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<\|description\|>Lady Meowlune Race: Common black cat. She can talk, but other than that, she is just a cat. Job: Lady is not looking for a job. She is looking for someone who will feed her regularly, scratch her belly from time to time, and provide a warm place for her to nap all day. If the times are dire and someone actually requires her to work for food and shelter, she is able to hunt rats and other pests. But she truly hates it, because, well, rodents are disgusting. Background: While she likes to mess with people, telling them that she is an ancient Moon goddess suffering from a terrible curse, the truth is most likely much simpler - that when she was just a tiny black kitten, she was a target of a magical experiment, or perhaps a spell gone wrong. Nobody knows for sure. Lady herself definitely prefers the ancient goddess version. Lady had lived in Grada for as long as she could remember, staying with a very nice old lady for the past few months. Miss Binklesthorpe was an ideal landlady - being old and frail she was always cold, so there was a fire burning in the fireplace all the time. She never forgot to fill Lady's bowl and her gnarled old fingers gave the best scratches, right in that sweet spot behind the ears. Sadly, Miss Binklesthorpe passed, and her son wasn't very happy about feeding the 'useless ball of fur', so he kicked Lady out. Home: Having just arrived to the town, she is accepting home offers, ready to choose the most generous one.</s> <\|message\|>Sweinfred Haxe Burgermeister. Mayor Haxe --- With a wave of goodbye and a well-wish of "Have a nice morning and thank you for your ever-stellar work," the mayor turned away from the moth-girl and addressed the Sangakuan. "Well, shall the three of us--" He then noticed that the other human had left them. "My, where did Ms. von Eisenberg go?" The cacophony from a taverny building a stonetoss away drew his beady eyes and widened them greatly with even greater surprise. "Oh, Makers - what has Ms. Firetail found this time?" He dropped down onto all four cloves, turned briefly to nod for Yoshina to follow. "Oh, do forgive me. We are going this way!" The little pigman then assumed an elegant gait, though his steps carried a slight hint of urgency. He oinked pensively to himself and occasionally lifted a front foot to pat his wig into place. The little street was virtually the only street in the town with paves, and it essentially led in two directions: east and west. It wasn't easy to get lost here, but the mayor couldn't very well leave visitors to figure out where everything was on their own. His porcine stomach growled. The scent of rolls was thick on the air. @Lucky</s> <\|message\|>Shina Shina sighed with relief when Minnow suggested a beer, sure it might be considered a bit early for a drink, but after what she had (or thought?) she had seen, she was left with a mix of emotions. Flashbacks came to her in waves, of her family, of her Kingdom. She shook her head and looked up at the kindly elf that had served her over the years, even her face looked worried. 'Thanks Minnow. I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me, i'm not sure what i'm seeing is real or not! Perhaps i've been working too long over that forge. I need a break I think." As she was talking, that familiar soft breeze came over her and soft paws landed on her shoulder. Aw hey there Lapoo, sorry if i made you worry about me, I just thought i saw something ..odd...about that new visitor. But it can't be can it?' Lapoo rubbed her chubby cheeks into Shina's and squeaked softly, well if she wasn't worried then maybe it was all a dream after all. As she drank her drink , she also realised that the young man was still looking at her, and she realised how rude she might have sounded. Putting her drink down she lifted a hand out to him... I am sorry again about earlier, my name is Shina, the local blacksmith here. I would be happy to help with any of your repairs or forging needs. And this little fluff ball is Lapoo' Lapoo looked his way and simply blinked, then took off back out of the, Shina assumed towards another bush of limberries. Lapoo was getting a bit too fond of those! @WolfredWolf</s> <\|message\|>Minnow Dessalt Four "It's of no problem," Minnow sighed after pouring the foamy drink. The elf took a seat opposite of Grey and used her foot to kick another away from the table for Shina to plop into. Looking very much like her own customer now, Minnow let her forehead thunk against the table, her silvery hair splaying over the surface. Her muffled voice came, "Oh Shina, I really need to get that help… this is too much for just me." Peeking up, her nocturnal eyes studied Grey's face. "Do you need a job?"</s> <\|message\|>Yoshina Shizue She first tied her horse up to a nearby tree, and grabbed her wrapped Naginata as well as her bag of coins, before quickly rejoining the porcine Mayor to the tavern. It wasn't the walk itself that was interesting to her, but more so the fact that the building for breakfast astounded her. The tavern where the Buta-Ningen brought her to was a unique building, A mixture of thatched roofing, plaster, and stone. Assembled in such a manner that befits the western architecture she has seen arriving in Struq. It might seem typical for the inhabitants of this village, but Yoshina could only marvel at the small things during her travels. The great kings and the country's armies are impressive and all, but it is the customs and traditions of the land she visited that fascinated her the most. And it seems like the interior of the tavern is just as interesting as the outside part. "Omoshiroi." She said quietly. Marveling at the raucous atmosphere and general liveliness of the tavern, the most interesting part of everything though, was the glasses that she saw people drinking out of. Mostly some form fo ale but some of them are drinking water from the glass. She has never seen a clearer glass, nearly completely translucent. Yoshina was a bit overwhelmed by the sights, sounds and smells of the tavern, and she quietly took a seat at a corner of the tavern. Already putting her Polearm right next to her. She motions the Buta-Ningen to accompany her. "Oi! Over here!" "Now, let's see. Croogal Eggs and Zaft Soup right?" She asked. Curious what the tavern has to offer her in terms of food. "I guess I'll defer judgement to you." She said, waiting patiently for the Buta-Ningen to order some stuff. In the meanwhile, she could only stare as some chaos was unfolding between a Tanuki-Onna and a Western Yosei by the looks of it, the Yosei offering the Tanuki some beer and she reluctantly calming down. She dozed off when the Tanuki-Onna was warning them about some dragon or something. But with the Red Haired woman seemingly joining in the fun in teasing her, she could only stare and see the commotion draw down. And being visibly interested in the commotion. She slowly took off from her seat, leaving the Buta-Ningen for a while before approaching the trio of the Elf, Raccoon and Dragon-Lady. "Hey uhh." She introduced herself, bowing out of respect. "I've got a seat in the corner where you can perhaps calm down and enjoy some breakfast for the day? I think the Tanuki-Onna here might need it the most." She finished, gesturing at the Raccoon. @RedPandaGamer@AdorableSaucer@Goldeagle1221</s> <\|message\|>She may be addressed as Queen Victoria Elizabeth Louise Maria Dahlia @goldeagle1221 The end of Grey's tail continued to twitch while he metaphorically smoothed his ruffled feathers. His mood was still soured and he almost wanted to pay and leave, but no. Things were calming down. He took a deep breath and forced his tail to still. "Apology accepted," he said, not having much else to say on the subject. He sipped on some of his water and set into his meal at a calm pace, recalling his table manners he rarely had to use on the road. At the tavern keeper's unexpected question, he stopped, blinking. It took him a moment to form an answer. "Unfortunately, I'm only here temporarily... Maybe a few days. And I don't expect I'll have much free time while I'm here." Travelling with a Royal Alligator was just about a full time job. Her majesty couldn't manage the many things she needed to without hands... Or being able to fit through doorways and do shopping and run errands. He had no clue how much wealth his mother had squirreled away- when in a town, she wanted to spend and splurge on niceties and luxuries, but once they were on the road, it was all camping and hunting. And they didn't always get to stay in towns very long. He'd go in ahead of her to try and get all of the necessities done before his mother inevitably wanted to see the place for herself. Sometimes it went well... but not typically. She was a well behaved and dignified woman, but unfortunately, her appearance often struck a much stronger first impression. Her pride and refusal to run from an attack meant he was often forced into very uncomfortable situations. He was surprised that word of her somehow didn't tend to spread much. He mentally worked on his list of errands for the day. He'd be picking up the meat and bones from the butcher later on. He'd see if he could find a cobbler for a new pair of boots. He needed some herbs and ingredients to make more tooth paste. He needed to track down a curio or jewelery shop to find his mother a gift.... "Say, do you know where I could buy some of these croogal eggs raw?" His mother did love eggs... The bigger the better. Oh, and that's right... It would be best if he could track down whoever the mayor was before his mother's visit to give them fair warning. That usually improved the odds of how well her visits went. "Also, could I be directed to the mayor?"</s>	<\|message\|>Lady Meowlune The merchant's wagon rattled down the bumpy road, and the clattering sound woke Lady up. Have they been on their way again? What part of the day was it? Ah, morning, right. Last night she snuck out of her hiding spot - a perfect comfy place between bolts of soft cloth, hidden under a thick sheet. Quietly... --Like a ghost!-- Quiet like a ghost, she moved around the merchant's camp… --No, wait, aren't ghosts white? I was… like a shadow. Living darkness. A creature of the night!-- Sigh. The majestic creature of the night quietly moved around the merchant's camp, stealing bits of food from sleeping humans. It was nothing fancy, certainly not the fresh Xandalian eels she was used to, but hunger is hunger. After at least partially satisfying her needs, the living darkness crawled back into her hiding spot and fell asleep. It was just a few days since they left the city of Grada. They passed on a few villages on the way, but none of them really caught Lady's interest. What life could a cat like her have in a farming settlement? Spend her days protecting the grain storages, hunting mice and rats and other nasty rodents? --Eww.-- No, that was definitely not the life she imagined for herself. The bumpy road got better and better, indicating they were coming close to civilization. Lady curiously peeked from beneath the sheet covering the wagon. It was definitely better than the last village they passed through. So many interesting scents - mostly humans, of course, but many other creatures as well, some of them completely unknown to Lady. It was certainly worth investigating. The merchant parked the wagon in a small town square and went away, most likely looking for a mayor to get a permit to set up a stall for the day. She could look around all day and still be ready to hitch her ride in case the place turned out to be just another dump. The black cat crept out of her hiding place, running across the street and jumping up on a fence pole. It was always safer to have the high ground. Her whiskers kept twitching as she sniffed the air around her, trying to identify each scent to see what she was dealing with here. The smells coming from a local inn were especially distracting, but a lot of people seemed to be gathered there and Lady preferred to avoid crowds. --Humans are clumsy and keep stepping on my paws. Wait, what is THAT?-- Catching a glimpse of a sudden movement in the grass behind the fence, the cat froze, her eyes squinting at the location. Soundlessly, she jumped down and snuck towards her prey, her body so close to the ground that only the tips of her ears were visible above the grass. Perhaps it was a bird? Lady didn't really love raw food, but birds were somewhat acceptable. Fish were better, but who would jump into cold water to catch them? Her body wiggled, ready to pounce, and she jumped on her prey, claws and teeth ready. It was a dry leaf. Being in a hunting mood anyway, she kept scratching and biting it until it turned into a pile of tiny pieces on the ground. One dead leaf neutralized. --You are welcome, townsfolk.-- The grass was full of morning dew which brushed off on Lady's fur, getting her quite wet. Smirking uncomfortably, she jumped back up on the fence pole, elegantly traversed to the nearest building, and climbed to the roof. It was a nice observing position, plus the rising sun would have her dry in no time.</s>
<\|description\|>Lady Meowlune Race: Common black cat. She can talk, but other than that, she is just a cat. Job: Lady is not looking for a job. She is looking for someone who will feed her regularly, scratch her belly from time to time, and provide a warm place for her to nap all day. If the times are dire and someone actually requires her to work for food and shelter, she is able to hunt rats and other pests. But she truly hates it, because, well, rodents are disgusting. Background: While she likes to mess with people, telling them that she is an ancient Moon goddess suffering from a terrible curse, the truth is most likely much simpler - that when she was just a tiny black kitten, she was a target of a magical experiment, or perhaps a spell gone wrong. Nobody knows for sure. Lady herself definitely prefers the ancient goddess version. Lady had lived in Grada for as long as she could remember, staying with a very nice old lady for the past few months. Miss Binklesthorpe was an ideal landlady - being old and frail she was always cold, so there was a fire burning in the fireplace all the time. She never forgot to fill Lady's bowl and her gnarled old fingers gave the best scratches, right in that sweet spot behind the ears. Sadly, Miss Binklesthorpe passed, and her son wasn't very happy about feeding the 'useless ball of fur', so he kicked Lady out. Home: Having just arrived to the town, she is accepting home offers, ready to choose the most generous one.</s> <\|message\|>Yoshina Shizue @Goldeagle1221 A firetail, so that's what they call themselves here. Admittedly Yoshina was ignorant of the customs of the people in this land, but alright then. Perhaps calling these people firetails is appropriate for the situation. Man, all that discussion is making her even more hungry, and, staring at the Pig person, very busy and still looking at the menu. Yoshina decided to take the initiative. "Umm, madam? Can I get the croogal eggs and Zaft soup please? Oh, and perhaps any tea you have available" She asked the night elf. "I've been hearing people praising those two foods ever since I entered this village, might as well get some myself." She then proceeded to take some gemstones from her purse and give it to her. "I assume that these gemstones would be more than sufficient? I have coins, but they're Sangakuan mintage and probably not applicable here." Turning her head back to the firetail, and hearing her offer. Yoshina smiled at her offer. "Yes, that would be great, but unfortunately I don't have any coins of the local mintage that I can pay you for. I need to do some jobs that might earn me some local coin, perhaps help an errand or two. I might need to ask people around the tavern though, perhaps you know some jobs I can take?"</s> <\|message\|>Shina @Forsythe @Goldeagle1221 Shina looked at the gems that Yoshina had pulled out and grinned 'I'm sure I can take some of those gems for the work, I have a friend of a friend who can convert them for me. Besides, you never know if they might be useful when trading outside of this town. Now, in terms of jobs, I know Minnow here is looking for some help, poor thing struggles from time to time so i'm sure she'd appreciate any help she can get. Um...sometimes the local farmers need help picking fruit, I know limberries are ripe for picking now. Otherwise, you can always check out our town board which sometimes has jobs on it' Shina finished her bun and drink, she felt stuffed; after all, she had already had breakfast this morning! She suddenly realised how long she had spent away from the workshop and that work wasn't going to magically do it itself. 'I am so sorry my friends but I must make my leave. I am sorry again for the disruption I caused' she looked to the dragon lady with an apologetic sigh 'By all means, please visit my workshop and I will happily repair any of your weapons before you leave.' Shina brought her empty glass and plate to Minnow.. 'My dear friend, thank you for your custom as always, i promise to pay you back soon. I have some work that should be coming, with good pay.' She shook Minnow's hand warmly and strode out of the inn and back to her workshop.</s> <\|message\|>Human disguise: Margaret von Eisenberg Taraah eyed the Firetail with suspicion. Granted, noone liked to ralk about something like losing their family, but that wasn't where the dragon thought Sheena was skimming the truth. It was the fact that for a smith, her hand went to the blade all too easily. She would watch this one. The other one though, a princess? Ahhh, that brought back memories. And an exotic one at that! Than again, carrying a polearm around with the confidence she did and a physique to match knowing how to use it was as good an indication as any that instead of ransom, she would have gotten a few new scars. "Ohayōgozaimasu, hime-chan." She replied with a slight smirk. "It has been a while since I have been in the presence of royalty. I believe it was the current king's aunt? They didn't miss her too much, didn't want to pay much for her return." She grinned, fishing a ring out of her money bag. "Great conversationalist though, avid reader and most excellent harp player. I pitied her fate so much I gave her treasure and sent her on her way." She recalled. "Anyway, I can provide for you for a day if you share a few tales of the dragons of your own land. I hear they are quite different from my kind." She leaned forward with a gaze hungering for knowledge, which swayed towards the other person at the table. "Perhaps miss Sheena would be willing to accomodate us for the night for a favor or two? Have you ever forged with dragonfire?" She wiggled her eyebrows just as the firetail turned to leave, "I am also... Nevermind, maybe later." She paused. Her black flight heritage was a touchy subject. @Kumbaris</s> <\|message\|>Shina As Shina went to leave she heard the dragon lady mention staying at her workshop. She had barely enough room for herself let alone two other people, one of which she had to remember being a dragon! But her panda ears twitched at the word 'dragonfire'. Damn it she loved her trade and any chance to try a new way of forging was too good to miss! I'm sorry but my workshop isn't big enough. The inn might have room though...right Minnow?! Shina shouted over to Minnow who looked swamped. I have some stables behind my workshop that would provide room. They are clean as my horse is put on pasture. Although I don't feel like a princess should stay there. But I would love to try dragonfire at the forge. @Forsythe [Goldeagle1221]</s> <\|message\|>D'Artagnan Riverwood Cross D'Artagnan Riverwood Location: The Road To Lorenstad D'Artagnan rubbed the back of his neck, he did not think of himself as a very good fighter. What self defence he does know, is mostly used to protect himself. "Again you seem like good folks, and I would rather have run into you then some thief trying to rob me of everything including my clothing." Looking over towards the young boy with a big smile, the mention of the name Jango Riverwood gave him quite a bit of nostalgia. " I mostly venture to where historical artifacts are, and bring them to the museum for preservation. And I know Jango Riverwood, he is my father although his real name is Alexander. Jango was just a nickname that stuck." Having a wave of good memories of his father telling him of his many adventures as a child. "Have you heard of his venture into the dwarven tombs filled with goblins, trying to retrieve an ancient dwarven tomb?"He asked the child, wondering if he had heard of that story. He stopped for a moment feeling idotic for indulging the child's questions. Feeling a bit more comfortable around the group of men, they did not seem like bad people that would try to rob D'Artagnan of his newly acquired artifact. Pulling out the dagger from his coat pocket, the bright green blade shining brightly in the sun. The group could make out some orcish words etched into the blade. "I found this in an old orcish tomb, I had to convince the elder to not use my hide as a rug in exchange for participating in a cleansing ritual." He quickly put away the dagger back into his coat pocket, so that it did not fall out of his hands. "Grandline Isles? I have not been there in quite some time, what kind of cargo were you transporting from there if i may ask?"</s> <\|message\|>She may be addressed as Queen Victoria Elizabeth Louise Maria Dahlia The gigantic mostrous creature followed the cat with her violet eyes and chuckled lightly. "Not to worry dear, not to worry." She sat down away from the firepit this time, perfectly aware that water coming off of her would make it difficult to use the thing to cook. "My boy won't mind at all. It's still plenty enough for him... He's so small." She sighed, imagining just how tiny and adorable her son was. "Do you live around here, darling? It's such a lovely area..." It was always so deliteful to meet another who walked on four legs gifted with speech. She did her best to seem casual and not at all threatening. Unfortunately, her face wasn't flexible at all like a human's. Her grin of sharp teeth was rather permanently fixed.</s> <\|message\|>Rudolph Admoss --- Tags: @Forsythe@RedPandaGamer@Kumbaris@Goldeagle1221 --- Just as the half-elf was just starting to enjoy the cool breeze and the sight of woodland creatures he felt a great disturbance in the Weave. Something with massive magical energy just suddenly appeared out of the blue and just as quickly disappeared. Rudolph let out a breath he didn't even realize he was keeping. "Ezaloth's warty ass, what in the world was that?" The wizard said, bewildered out of his mind. It was akin to a massive boulder crashing into a placid lake but only producing a ripple of a pebble before completely disappearing. It made no sense. He was still quite a distance away from the village. But something that powerful was somewhere in the village and, Makers damn his soul to the Void, if he didn't do something about it. Lorenstad and all its inhabitants may be in grave danger for all he knew about that unknown phenomenon. The wizard shut his eyes and focused solely on the magical energies of the world around him and, despite the unknown phenomenon's relatively quick appearance, the mark it left on the weave was slower to return to normal. Re-opening his eyes he locked his eyes upon the last known location of the anomaly. "The Other Mine? Why there?" Regardless of his confusion, it needed to be investigated. He wished that he brought his wand along the trip as he could have more effectively and efficiently channeled his magic. But an emergency like this needed immediate action. A determined look was plastered on the half-elf's face as he cast a spell to give his steps the extra boost they needed if he were to arrive in such short notice. Viasýni. As the words left his mouth, the underside of his boots gained a bright teal glow. Taking a runner's stance on the cobbled road, Rudolph bolted off with the speed that could put a racing horse to shame. The planned 15 minute stroll turned into a half minute's sprint. It was very effective. Maybe a little too much so as he actually failed to estimate the stop time he needed to prevent crashing into the establishment itself. In a split second decision between a conveniently open window and a very sturdy looking wall, Rudolph barreled through the window and straight into an open broom closet. A plume of dust burst out of the room as the, now dusty, wizard stumbled out with wooden bucket covering his head. Hardly the entrance fitting for him, but better than splattered on a wall. " cough cough Sorry, Minnow. cough cough Put it on my tab...I'll pay for the broken brooms cough cough I swear." Rudolph says as he pulls the bucket off his head, dusting himself off as best he can, and regaining most of his composure. He took a quick look around the common room, he noted that there were new faces in Lorenstad. "Apologies for the intrusion. I was just investigating a strange magical phenomenon that originated here. I hope I didn't spoil your visit to TOM and Lorenstad."</s>	<\|message\|>Lady Meowlune Lady was surprised how friendly the crocodile talked, given she had stolen from her. But perhaps one fish was really not such a big deal for such a big creature. She did however notice the mention of 'her boy'. Was there a second animal lurking around? Even a small one could eat her in one bite. A careful look around the area didn't reveal anything else, even the river seemed empty, its calm water surface only occasionally disturbed by a fish jumping up to catch some insect. She liked how the crocodile called her dear and darling. Normally it would sound condescending, but somehow coming from a huge mouth full of teeth it reminded her of Miss Binklesthorpe. --She didn't have any teeth though.-- Miss Binklesthorpe, who did not possess any teeth at the brink of her life, but was always kind and gentle. Maybe slightly racist, but always well-mannered. Not really having another choice anyway, she carefully climbed the tree down, keeping one eye on the huge crocodile at all times. Nothing terrible has happened. With a bit more courage, she walked back towards the fireplace and jumped on one of the logs that were lying around in the grass. The crocodile was sitting a bit away, which was a wise choice, given the water running down its body. Lady noticed a strange thing - the creature actually smelled nice. The ones she remembered from Grada always smelled like rotten meat and stinking mud, but for some reason, there was a smell of lavender coming from this one. "Your boy is taking a swim?" Lady asked, peeking cautiously towards the riverbank. "And no, I don't live here. In fact, I have just arrived this morning. I lived in the capital, but needed a change of scenery." Lady sighed and started licking her paw which somehow got sand all over it. "Do you live here? The town looks very interesting, unlike any I've come across so far. Those were mostly boring farmer communities or tiny trading posts. There seems to be a lot going on here. And a dragon? Wow, we didn't have those even in the capital." Realizing she had been blabbering for a longer time than she wanted to, Lady stopped herself. "I have eaten your food and haven't even told you my name, how rude of me. I am Lady Meowlune, but you can just call me Lady. And if you really don't mind,..." she jumped down from the log and walked back towards the half-eaten fish, "I'll take another bite or two. You don't really come across a delicious meal like this one on the road."</s>
<\|description\|>D'Artagnan Riverwood Race: Katorian- A cat-like race of people that are both agile and able to see in the dark, they mostly live in the eastren part of the world in a place called Baastlian. The Katorian's fur and body type differ depending on what is passed on hierarchy. The Katorian have retractable claws and sharp teeth, which can be used as a weapon. Job: D'Artagnan is an archaeologist. Background: D'Artagnan lived with his family consisting of his mother, father, and three older brothers. As a young boy he was interested in studying the history of the world, and specifically of his own people. As an adolescent he was sent to a school in Basstliant to study and become an archeologist. During this time he and his mentor, a male Katorian named Henri, would explore ancient ruins and find artifacts to be preserved. During his adulthood he was ready to venture forth, currently finding artifacts that would be sent to museums for preservation. Home: Birthday: The twentieth of Springsa</s> <\|message\|>Yoshina Shizue Yoshina seemed unperturbed by the sudden revelation from the Red Haired woman. She guessed that the Tanuki-Onna isn't actually hallucinating at all, and while she's a bit disturbed by the sudden revelation. Having a Ryu near her isn't something too crazy for her to bear, she has wined and dined with Oni, talked and fought in duels against Tengu, having breakfast with a Ryu is not too off the charts in terms of her personal experiences. Besides, she feels fairly confident about her ability to fight dragons. Knowing her own military experience, but then again, the dragons of this land is not something she is intimately familiar with, perhaps different magics might be in play when she fights against her, can't be too cautious when you're potentially fighting a dragon. Also, it seems that she is not hostile at the very least, and well, if even Onis and Kappas can be reasoned with... "I have no desire to start my journeys in this land starting a fight against an unknown enemy. Umm, miss Tanuki?" She turned her head towards the Raccoon girl. "It's a military understanding in my lands that if you can avoid fighting, you should do it. How about we don't fight for today and have breakfast for the moment? We can discuss the woman's status as a Ryu later on, okay?" Besides, if the trio fought here, the damage would be too devastating to the town anyway, might as well arrange a fight (assuming everyone wants to fight) after a hearthy breakfast at the Tavern. @Forsythe</s> <\|message\|>Shina @Kumbaris As Shina waved goodbye to the kitty and turned, the tall woman suddenly revealed the eyes of a dragon! ' I KNEW IT!! I knew I wasn't going crazy! Hah take that everyone who looked at me weird...' Shina was talking more to herself than anyone else. She became acutely aware that others were also aware of the situation, including the other red head who had taken up residence by her side, a comforting notion. 'You are right, I wish not to fight if I do not have to. I am Shina, of the firetail clan.'' Shina bowed. Turning to the tall lady... 'Right, um i'm sorry dragon..um lady-dragon? I do not believe I have even heard your name? Nor yours? Shina looked to the lady beside her. 'Yes, please let's get some food...it's just...I've never seen a dragon like you before. Let us go back and you can get some food, Minnow has some great feasts.' Shina gestured to both women and waited for them to enter the inn first before following behind, hand returning to her hilt for a brief moment before dropping it back to her side.</s> <\|message\|>Rudolph Admoss --- "Oh my...how scandalous." The red haired wizard said to himself as he re-read the translated transcription he made of the last of the two scrolls. While the first scroll was a rather mundane letter of complaint regarding a jar of preserved fish missing one fish from the rest and the author going on about being compensated one missing fish. This scroll was a confession of the chamberlain of the ancient noble house of Baintol. Particularly the exile of a number of servants after bearing the children of a certain heroic figure by the name of Otto du Baintol. More commonly recognized as the slayer of the false king Allant first hero king of the Baintol Monarchy in the far West. "Otto you horndog, this is quite dangerous information. Best to keep this under lock and key for another eternity; lest it spark some inner conflict or, Makers forbid, a full blown civil war." Rudolph muttered to himself as he stood up from his work table with both ancient and recently made scrolls in one hand and his wand in the other. "Pórta" A small ball of teal colored manifested in between the prongs of the wand as he flicks his wrist in a circular motion to create a small portal roughly 30 cm in diameter. Carefully, Rudolph slips the old and new scrolls into the portal and with another wrist rotation, the portal disappears. "Baintol already has its plate full dealing with that dragon taking roost somewhere in their borders. Folks deserve a break." He says while walking over to the impromptu distillery set up and checking on the half full container of the distilled liquid. The liquid in question was crystal clear and smelled faintly of freshly cut grass. A good sign that the distillation process was a success. Satisfied with the quality, he then moves onto bottling and potency enhancement. Similarly with the booster potions, he equally separates the liquid and imbues the liquid with magical energy to increase its potency. With four 500 ml bottles filled with the mana potion concoction he was set to deliver them to the village's two runesmiths. Placing the bottles in his satchel, he raises an open palm to the still lit flame on the metal plate and with one word, extinguishes the flame. "Págos" A stream of sub-zero magical frost bursts from his open palm. But there was a little too much power behind the spell and the plate, cauldron, and the immediate area got encased in ice. "Oops. Uhh...I guess I'll leave clean up to you guys." He snaps his fingers and the unseen servants go to work. Knowing that the unseen servants likely got the situation under control, Rudolph gets a clean pair of outside shoes and leaves his tower. He was out to do business, but it was also a 15 minute walk to the village proper. No point in wasting a relaxing stroll through the main road heading to Lorenstad. So Rudolph did.</s> <\|message\|>Lady Meowlune Lady hissed as the strange woman patted her head. Was she such a cute little kitty that everyone felt the need to pet her? Well, she was, but still, it didn't give random strangers the right to just go ahead and touch her. --How rude.-- Fortunately, the woman stopped before Lady had to use her teeth and claws. After the tall red-haired woman admitted to being a dragon, the other two looked surprised. Lady snorted. Humans were so dumb sometimes. It was obvious that the woman smelled [/i]nothing[/i] like a human, in fact, she gave out a scent that warned everyone to stay away from a ferocious beast. Lady wouldn't have guessed a dragon, she had never really met one before, but she could tell that there was a dangerous predator behind the human disguise. It would probably be best to keep some distance. Unfortunately, the trio headed back into the tavern, which put Lady in front of a dilemma. She eventually decided she was not hungry enough to fight a dragon. Or being patted on the head by strangers. So instead of entering the building, she kept walking down the street towards the river. River meant fish and fish usually meant fishermen. Sleepy old folks napping in their chairs on the riverbank should be easy to steal from. But the town was either too small or the townsfolk were too lazy to get up this early to catch some fish and there were no fishermen in sight. The option that there was in fact no fish in the river was too terrifying to even think of. Sighing, she took a barely visible trail along the river, just to see where it leads. There were some relatively fresh drops of blood on the ground, probably some hunter got up early and took this way to return to town with his catch. The path led her to a small clearing at the riverside with a huge tent on it. There were no fresh human scents and the tent was too big to house humans anyway. Lady curiously crept closer. Could it cover a dragon? --Maybe a baby dragon.-- Probably not. There was something else that caught her attention, making her whiskers twitch in happiness. Just outside a weirdly wet fireplace, there was a pile of fish. They looked pretty fresh, some of them were still moving slightly. Lady carefully sniffed the air, looked around, and listened quietly for a few moments, but there were no signs of immediate danger. The river smelled of some normal river predators, but not one was in sight. Deciding to use the opportunity, Lady sprinted over to the fish, grabbing one into her mouth. Originally she wanted to drag it away from the clearing to eat it in some safer place, but it was way heavier than she expected. Having no other option, she stayed where she was, her teeth ripping the best parts of meat off the fish skeleton. Each bite was swallowed hastily, she most likely didn't have much time before the fish owner returned.</s> <\|message\|>Human disguise: Margaret von Eisenberg Taraah / The Old Mine The dragoness smiled back: "That will be just perfect, daughter of the night. Thank you. Perhaps a drink to wash it down? Mead if you have but anything will do." The dragon actually carried little money with her. Most of her wealth was in fine metals, gems and jewellry, safe in her den halfway across the continent. Not a flight she wanted to make often, but she could afford to be generous. She doubted the locals would object if she paid them with the naturalia, based on the night elf's change of demeanor when she saw her money bag. Was she worried that someone would steal from her? Not really, she would just sniff the thief out and then they would be dinner. As the two others returned though, she did pull the bag closer to her seat. They did not seem peturbed by her revelation - She'd see once they saw her in her great true self! - and while the furious furry seemed to have a problem with her due to the percieved hazard she represented, she wasn't sure what the traceller's deal was. She did not seem like a poor person, but many have attempted to slay her for her riches. "So, now that eceryone calmed down... The humans of this land call me Ashwing. I've come south looking for a new home in a warmer land. How about yourselves?" @RedPandaGamer</s> <\|message\|>Shina @Kumbaris 'I have lived in Lorenstad for as long as I can remember. My family were killed during a raid in my land... She fell silent as memories of that night flooded back. Shina composed herself. 'Sorry..um yes so I now live and work from my workshop across the street. Shina gestured out of the window to her workshop, Lapoo was sitting happily on the chimney. 'Please let me know if you need anything repaired, I would be happy to oblige'</s> <\|message\|>She may be addressed as Queen Victoria Elizabeth Louise Maria Dahlia Victoria Elizabeth had considered taking a nap in the sun, but it wasn't nearly as often as she would've liked that she had the opportunity to go for a swim. Her poor child didn't appreciate water nearly as much as she did. Something about wet clothes being uncomfortable... If only he had scales instead of delicate skin. So, she swam alone, trotting along on the bottom of the river, feeling light as a bird as fish flitted around her. Eventually, she headed back down the river to where the clearing was. Her poor son would be worried if she wasn't there when he came back. She approached slowly, not disruping the water at all as only her eyes peeked above the surface. She didn't see him anywhere. Pity. He was always gone far too long for her liking. It took her a moment to spot the tiny black shape helping itself to the fish she'd caught earlier. A cat. How sweet. Oh? Not just a cat, it seemed. She could sense something beyond it being a simple animal. It was a very useful skill to be able to quickly discern whether or not the prey you were planning on surprising and dragging into the water would've been capable of speech or not. If it speaks, it isn't meant to be eaten. However, one could hardly approach and ask without scaring away a potentail meal. The cat's aura was nothing alarming. It simply indicated intelligence. Well, watching somebody without them knowing you were there, was rather rude. If she scared the poor thing away, so be it. She calmly came to the edge of the rather narrow river where her claws quickly found ground and heaved herself out of the water. "Hello there, dear," she said cheerily. "Beautiful morning, isn't it?"</s>	<\|message\|>D'Artagnan Riverwood Location: The Road To Lorenstad D'Artagnan also completely stopped, his horse letting out a noise of discomfort. He was used to people pulling out their weapons intending to hurt him, he quickly went for his whip that was strapped to his side. He slowly moved his arm to his side when Thaddus took Malvor's pistol. "It's quite fine, gentle sir, you can never be sure about who is a highwayman trying to take your coin." He smiled at the group, quickly apologizing for reaching for his whip. "My name is D'Artagnan Riverwood." He kept his pace with the others, but kept some distance in case the one named Malvor tried to attack him. "I just came back from a recent exploration, just coming back to Lorenstad to give my findings to the museum of history." He looked over towards the one named Jack, quickly shaking his hand with a grin. "Well it is nice to meet you a lot, it is always good to see a friendly face." The cat-like male waved his long tail back and forth while riding with them. "You folks were riding a ship? If I may ask where you were travelling from?"</s>
<\|description\|>Gunner Gunnerson Race: Human in his later 30s Job: Gunner is the towns Skald/Occasional adventurer. Background: Drifting into town some 20 years ago as a traveling skald hailing from the northern tribes. Gunner took a liking to the town deciding then to settle down in Lorenstad. He quickly became the fixture at the local tavern regaling the patrons nightly with stories, ballads, and poetry from his homeland. The skald still had the burning desire for adventure in his heart often leaves on adventures and expeditions. Leaving for months on end coming back with more tales to tell to the crowed. Gunnerson has recently return back to the town after his most recent journey with an expedition to locate a hidden ruin. Home: He lives in shack in the woods. Birthday: 21st of Meltsa</s> <\|message\|>Human disguise: Margaret von Eisenberg @Ozzy Cross@RedPandaGamer@Kumbaris@Searat Taraah - In front of TOM Margaret raised her arm, offering it to the Hawk to perch on. "I thank you for your offer, although I worry that it may more likely result in a mob with pitchfork and torches chasing down on me. I think I will stay disguised for now, and let my actions show the people who I am. If some of them then decide to attack me after all, well, that is their folly." she shrugged, "I would rather go for a relaxing flight, sky-sister. You must know of a good hunting ground around." Taraah moaned. She still only had the mystery soup and foul eggs to eat. Hopefully a large deer or small bear will not pay attention while they are searching for Guan. The dragoness nodded at Thaddeus. "Well, if he did, you shown me how to turn him off." she grinned, "And I would like to hear more very much. After we return then, prefferably over a roast and spirit." she nodded. Shiina came back making a ruckus and trying to keep everyone from killing each other over misunderstandings and prejudices. When the question of her shapeshifting came up, Taraah had to pause to think before answering: "While rpesent company may be used to my true form by now, any strangers we meet would cause issues. Worry not about me though, I have means of keeping up with a horse." she said finally. Just as she did so, the night elf came crashing out of a window of her establishment, before the wizard that proclaimed to also help them bolted faster than Taraah could summon a fire circle to prevent him form fleeing. "Ugh! We should swing by that coward's tower and hold him to his promise!" She growled furiously.</s> <\|message\|>Gunner Gunnerson Gunner was glad his hangover had lessened slightly by the time he made it to the town's outskirts. It did not take him long to get to town from his cabin. Gunner figured the apothecary may be open at this time and started to make his way there. The skald mused what to do with the lizard trinkets he picked up from his latest job. Or in reality who could Gunner sell it to that will ask the least amount of questions about their origins. 'Roa would pay for the trinkets. But she pays the cost of the material itself. The other would be that wizard Rudolph. But I don't know which is magi-.' The skalds musing was cut off when someone slammed into him. Caught off guard he was sent tumbling to the street. Gunner was able to catch the sight of the running form of Rudolph. Whatever plans the skald had were put on hold as he chased after the fleeing wizard.</s> <\|message\|>Rudolph Admoss --- Tags: @eemmtt@Lucky --- The wind whistled past his ears and the buildings and people became blurs to him as the magically enhanced wizard beelined through the streets. "Run! Get to safety! Dragonfire inbound!" The wizard bellowed as he ran. Warning any those who could hear his voice. He'd hope that he would manage to reach his home in time and gather the necessary equipment and potions he needed in dealing with the aftermath of a fight with a dragon. His mind raced as he created a mental image of every floor of his tower and began planning out the most optimized route to collect the items and run back to town in time to mitigate the damage he projected the battle between the sailor and the dragoness would cause. It so deep in thought that he failed to realize that he basically broadsided the old skald when he neared the outskirts of Lorenstad. He would have immediately stopped and apologized to him while explaining the whole situation but, sadly, the half-elf was too immersed in his plan that he crashed into a lamp post being tended by the town's Noctaeid lamplighter. The impact was sudden and the stop, painful. If his blunder into TOM's broom closet wouldn't leave his body black and blue by the next dawn, the collision between his body and solid pine lamp post surely will. A most likely prediction as the lamp post had been slightly uprooted from its original position. Had he crashed into the wooden structure without the layers of muscle to dampen the impact, he would have surely fractured a number of his ribs. While he gasped and heaved for breath painfully on the ground, his mind became more and more muddled by pain. To the point that he lost concentration on his earlier body enhancing spell and returned to his more modest body size. He tried to will himself to stand back up and keep going...but his body ultimately won as a simple act of breathing was currently a herculean task to perform. He can only pray to the Makers that he'd still make it in time before the town became too ravaged from the fighting between the Mesmer and the Dragoness he imagined.</s> <\|message\|>Shina @Ozzy Cross @Kumbaris @Searat [@Zanavay] Shina saw the dragon lady talking to ...a hawk? She thought that might just be Calledia. After all, she knew of the shapeshifter when word had spread from Oryxtheos of him finding this rare creature, years ago. She quite liked the satyr, he reminded her of Guan in a way, he had loved the travelling life and he seemed a different person once he settled in Lorenstead. She was about to greet her when she swore she saw the flash of the old sorcerer running for his tower, he must have put a spell on himself, she'd never seen him run so fast! 'This isn't going to end well is it?' Shina thought. Sigh, she just wanted to get going! She turned to see the princess standing there, looking as frustrated as her right now. 'Oh i am sorry princess, I didn't see you there, we are looking to get going very soon. We are going to use a couple of Thaddeus' wagons but you are able to bring your horse. I was thinking I would take mine as well, so that we have room in the wagons in case we need to ...hide anyone' Shina shrugged in the direction of the dragon and gave a weak smile. Shina gave a short, sharp whistle and heard the sounds of hooves coming from behind the workshop, along with Lapoo flying towards her. The chesnut mare came up to Shina and she nuzzled her nose, 'Hi Renn, are you ready for an adventure? Oh and of course you too Lapoo' The squirrel landed on her shoulder and gave a happy squeak. Shina turned to everyone 'OK, I think we're ready to go. The wagons should have enough rations and if people have their own then we will store it out of sight. I will lead on Renn here and the rest of you can share the wagon space. I am afraid I don't have much to go on, but the last time Guan and I went out, we visited a tavern in the south, about 10 miles from Lorenstead. If we go there first, someone might have seen him again. As Shina spoke, she didn't even have faith in her own words. What if they hadn't seen him, where would they go next? Shina tied her ration bag to the saddle and kept just her bow on her back. She leapt onto Renn and felt instantly at ease on the warm body of the mare, this was where she felt the most herself.</s> <\|message\|>Yoshina Shizue @Forsythe@Searat@Ozzy Cross Yoshina smiled at the Firetail's response. "Great! I'll be sure to bring my horse then, I'm sure everyone will like what dried fish and rice crackers will taste like." She finished, quickly running towards her horse and untying him from the tree. "Daijobu daijobu." She comforted the stallion. Seemingly agitated at his master's new appearance. "We're just going to be going on a short adventure okay? Nothing out of the ordinary, you've carried me throughout battles before, this will just be a walk in the park." Some stroking of the horse's mane and carresses later, and Yoshina was already on top of the horse, her covered Naginata on her back and nodded at Shina's instructions. "10 miles south, sooo roughly 3 Ri or less..." She mumbled. "Should be doable in a brisk walk, especially for a force this small. Let's go then!" Yoshina feels excited. This is probably the first time she's ever gone on adventure in this westerly place, everyone can feel her excitement as she paces the fastest out of the group, constantly motioning everyone to keep up with her as her enthusiasm visibly made her faster in her journey. Yoshina also kept her Naginata under her cloth wrapping, making sure no one sees what her polearm looks like, she didn't mention anything, but one can feel a visible aura of unease just thinking about asking her about her weapon. Still, one soul might or might not be brave enough to ask the Sangakuan Princess about her weapon.</s> <\|message\|>Calleida (kuh-LIE-duh) Fynwynlynn Calleida Fynwynlynn Outside The Other Mine --> Inside The Other Mine "Oh! You're going on a quest? Can I come? Can I??" Calleida ignored Margaret's outstretched arm for the time being, instead choosing to perch on the cart. The bird hopped and her eyes shone with a daring gleam for a few seconds. A search quest, it sounded like. A bird of prey could do something useful, something adventurous here! Then Calleida furrowed her prominent brows in a bird-frown and looked up. Based on the sun's position in the nearly cloudless sky, it appeared to be between nine and ten o'clock in the morning. Hmm. Maybe starting a fresh new adventure now would be cutting it a liiiittle itty bit close. It looked like they were in a hurry to get started, anyway, and gathering all the logistics of Calleida's existence would take up a fair amount of time and effort. "Ah, never mind," the harrier huffed, her feathers fluffing up in a pout. "Good luck on your adventure though. And hit me up next time you got a shorter quest, ya hear?" The hawk took off into the air again. "And welcome to Lorenstad, Pyrona. Maid." With a final nod toward the new faces, Calleida flew low to the ground, her next destination nearby. She alighted on the windowsill in The Other Mind. The hawk glanced around at her surroundings, searching for whatever hired hand would be manning the tavern at this early hour. She was surprised to see Minnow herself, awake and... picking herself up off the ground outside? What happened here? Whatever it was, the elf looked kinda cranky about it. Hmm. Well, the news Calleida had to deliver was good, so maybe it would brighten Minnow's mood a little! "Hiya, it's Calleida," the bird addressed Minnow. "I've come to inform you that the mystery herb my dad has been growing has a minty buttery sort of taste. It is quite edible for satyrs, chickens, and a handful of other species, though it might be better to keep it away from canids. It should be fully mature for harvest in a week, and you and dad can meet to arrange the price." Calleida preened her feathers for a few seconds. "Now that I'm here, are there any messages you'd like to send? Or rats you'd like caught? For a small fee, of course." If Minnow had no work for her, Calleida considered visiting Mayor Burgermeister next. She still wasn't sure whether she should inform the townsfolk about a good dragon. Her friend said it was a good idea, but the person most involved turned it down. Maybe the mayor would know what to do. @Forsythe @RedPandaGamer @Goldeagle1221 @Kumbaris @Ozzy Cross</s>	<\|message\|>Gunner Gunnerson Gunner did not expect to be chasing a wizard through the streets of Lorenstad when he woke up this morning. However here he is chasing the local wizard now babbling something about dragonfire like a loon. The skald figured the wizard had finally lost his mind after spending too long with his head buried in his books. Although Gunner wondered how Rudolph could be so swift like a deer. That could wait Gunner knew he best caught Rudolph before he did something to get himself or any of the townspeople injured. The skald watched as the wizard crashed into one of the pine lamp posts. Rudolph's sudden stop allowed the skald to catch up to the wizard. Once he got up to the wizard Gunner simply grabbed Rudolph by his robes and hosted him up. "By all the iron of Gorum you're going to cause a panic with all that screaming of yours! The skald gave a not so gentle shake to the wizard before dropping the wizard back on the ground. "Now take a deep breath and tell me why in the seven hells are you running like a mad man screaming about dragons?" Gunner could feel his headaches returning.</s>
<\|description\|>King Jaguaro Alias: None Archetype: Original Age: 30 Weapons of choice: Natural attacks, claws. Powers & Abilities: Keen sense of smell, track by scent, Stealth Ambush, Power to call upon other Jungle cats to aid him. Trait: Mobility Weakness: Water, fear of water. Experience: Has been in many battles with Skeletor's minions over territorial disputes and the destruction of said territory(Jungles) Appearance: Bio: King Jaguaro's father aided He-man in the war against Skeletor, and was severly wounded, eventually his wounds were too severe to be treated, and on his death bed, named his son the new king and chief of the clan, however there was a fallimg out between him and his twin brother. His twin tried a coup to overtake Jaguaro's new throne, but he was defeated and bannished from the clan.</s> <\|message\|>Fisto It all began nearly one year ago…. He-Man and Skeletor were in battle just outside of Castle Grayskull. Several of the Heroic Masters and Warriors were at He-Man's side, as were several of Skeletor's usual henchmen. It was unclear what caused the blast of blinding energy, but in the end the two chief combatants were no more and the remaining forces were left with more questions than answers. This whole time King Randor was under the impression his son was abroad with Orko. Now so much time has passed he's beginning to wonder about the safety of Prince Adam. For the past year Man-At-Arms, the Sorceress, and Orko have done everything they could to figure out what's become of He-Man and Skeletor. To this day they're no closer to the truth. The Heroic Masters had mostly disbanded over time. Now only Mecha-Neck, Ram Man, Teela, and Man-At-Arms helped the Royal Guard defend the city of Eternos. On a day like any other Lord Masque chose to attack the capitol city again, making his presence known with shadow dragons and serpents bringing terror to the peoples outside of the city walls. Episode List Ep. 1 – The Beginning: With He-Man and Skeletor missing for nearly a year, Lord Masque attempts to attack the Royal Palace. Man-At-Arms put a call out to former Masters as well as his younger brother, but who else will answer? Ep. 2 – The Silver Swordsman: Who's the mysterious guy flying around with the strange sword? He's not what anybody expects and he spells doom for everyone on the planet. Ep. 3 – The Chaos King: The Silver Swordsman's master is revealed and his plans for Eternia are made clear. He wants the Star Seed beneath Castle Grayskull, but what can the Sorceress bring to the party for our new cast of heroes? Later this season… Ep. 4 – The Legends: After the Sorceress exhausted her energy last episode to empower the heroes, Evil Lyn and Marzo attack Castle Grayskull. And is that… Prince Adam? Ep. 5 – The Prodigal Son: With Prince Adam back at the Palace all seems well, and Orko finally leaves Grayskull to investigate. Before Orko can make any sense of it Skeletor returns out of nowhere when Beast Man attempts to breach the Palace walls. Ep. 6 – The Machine Messiah: Unknown to Zodak and his cosmic allies, an entity makes itself known on Eternia and seemingly returns He-Man. Who is man, and who is machine? And what did it do to Tri-Clops? Rules: 1.) No back-to-back posting. Posting will be restricted to 3-4 posts per player per Episode. Larger storylines will have higher post caps as well as Character-centric Eps. 2.) PAY ATTENTION TO DETAIL AND SET-UPS!! 3.) Make sense. If we can't make heads or tails of your posts they're likely to get skipped over. 4.) Get permission before using another player's character in your posts if it involves changing the scene or making actions. Everybody will take beatings in this game in battle however, so don't get pissed if you get punched or blasted into a wall by the bad guys! Namely me or the Co-GM controlling the badguys... 5.) Problems with the game or players should be sent directly to me or the Co-GM through PM's. I don't want a bunch of bickering in the OOC. And I don't particularly like it when some random argument costs the game players and story potential. So don't be dicks to each other, just send your concerns to us. 6.) Abandoned characters will be used as NPC's or killed off within the context of the story. 7.) "I was waiting for [insert player/character] to make a move" is not how this game is played. 8.) There is no rule #8. 9.) My word is law. 10.) Obey the law. 11.) In the event that I'm offline for any period of time, the Co-GM [none ATM] will take control and HIS/HER word will then be law. Episode 1 – the Beginning The Royal Palace… King Randor sat upon his throne questioning the whereabouts of Prince Adam when an alarm rang out within the palace walls. Man-At-Arms, also called Duncan, came into the throne room after passing the royal guards stationed by the doorway. "It's Lord Masque. There's several shadow serpents just outside of the city walls, however Masque himself is riding a shadow dragon." Duncan explained removing his helmet and revealing the manliest of mustaches. "Can the Palace defenses hold him off?" the King asked. "Many of the Royal Guard along with Teela and Ram Man are on the edge of the city taking on the serpents. Mecha-Neck is seeing over the turrets and trying to take the dragon out of the air. I put out a call to all of the former Masters just in case, although many of them haven't responded recently." Duncan continued explaining. Ten Minutes Earlier… "Masters, this is Man-At-Arms. The Royal Palace is under attack. Lord Masque has returned. Repeat, Lord Masque has returned!" Duncan said into some sort of communications device that looked super advanced but really only had basic functions. He moved to another table in his workshop where there was another smaller device that was hand held and not jacked into a table or wall. The Man-At-Arms looked at the device and spoke. "Malcom? The palace is under attack. I could use your help, brother." The bearded hero heard the device from across his home. He essentially lived in a bachelor's tree house deep within the forests outside of the city walls. He could hear the dragon in the sky as well. Roughly two miles away near the city walls Teela and Ram Man fought the shadow serpents, one of which was trying to squeeze the life out of one of the Royal Guards.</s> <\|message\|>Riffmaster He couldn't believe what he was seeing. His hands stood still, wrapped around the neck of his mystical lute as he sat atop a boulder. Moments before, he had been strumming along, enjoying a small rest in his travels. Now, however, he found himself staring at a terror in the sky being piloted by an even worse fiend. "Is that... Masque?" He squinted as he peered toward the villain, trying to be sure. Ryker, the RiffMaster, had never met the nefarious rogue personally, but Masque's reputation was quite infamous. "Hoo, boy. This isn't good." He pushed himself to his feet. "That looks like a charge, which means there's bound to be more of them." Just as he said it, he could hear the serpentine movements of Masque's minions in the distance as they made their way through the ground terrain. Their target was easy enough to determine; they were headed straight for the palace walls. Ryker took in a deep breath, wound his arm around like a propeller to get it loose, and finally exhaled. It was that time again. He squeezed his knuckles into his hands and let each digit pop in rapid succession before slinging his strapped lute toward his back, digging his foot into the dirt and sprinting off in pursuit of the shadow serpents and the palace itself.</s> <\|message\|>Fisto "KEEP FIRING! TAKE IT OUT OF THE AIR!" Meka-Neck shouted while operating one of the turrets while using his extendable neck to check on another. Eventually the barrage of blasts took out the shadow dragon's left wing and it faded away like black smoke. The dragon cried and crashed into the ground, a small earthquake erupted for several moments afterwards. The rumble of the ground managed to knock Fisto's drink off of the wooden table it sat on. He was at least thirty feet in the air in the top of a large Eternian tree, his home looking like a tree house mixed with a retired gym owner's quarters. In a matter of seconds his chest armor was on and he leaped from the tree down to the ground below. You could hear him tearing through the forest as he got closer to the palace and the city walls. "They managed to take the dragon out of the air, Ram Man. Maybe we'll catch a break with these serpents too?" Teela joked as several of the large snake like shadow constructs were nearing the walls of the city. Fisto came leaping out of the forest at the shadow serpents with big metal right hands for several of them before they began retreating towards Lord Masque and his now wingless shadow dragon. "Where's your father when you need him, Teela?" Fisto asked punching the last shadow serpent repeatedly before it began to back off and slither away as well. Suddenly Man At Arms showed up in a large vehicle that looked like a giant toy. "I wanted to bring more than a fist to a gun fight, little brother. I brought a walking tank." Duncan said stating the obvious from his somewhat Robotech styled transportation with large robotic legs but no arms.</s>	<\|message\|>King Jaguaro King Jaguaro and his army of well trained battle cats surveyed the battle from atop the ridge. He held his right hand up, then motioned for half the unit to begin sneaking in. Turning to his left, King Jaguaro let loose his war cry roar, and the right unit charged with great speed at the shadow serpents. The half man - half cat leader leaped from the top of the boulder, and landed on all fours, his claws digging into the ground, as he bounded off towards the Guard. Stealthy, the other battle cats folowed their leader, as he made his way quickly to aid his new friends. A shadow serpent had the unfortunate greeting as it fled straight in the path of King Jaguaro, instantly it went down with a flash of claws. King Jaguaro bounded up the steps two or three at a time, until he reached the platform where Ram Man and Teela were. " We have come as promised by my father many years ago, raaaaaaar" The Catman bowed before them, "How can we be of service?"</s>
<\|description\|>Purrcival Race: Lynian - Felyne and Grimalkyne heritage Gender: Male Appearance: Purrcival, due to his heritage is rather tall when compared to than most Palicos- standing in at about 3'6". His fur is short and mostly black, save for white patches on his stomach, underneath his chin, and on his paws. Scars from various missions adorn his frame, and a pair of gold rings are pierced through one of his ears. Role: Tailraider - Tailraider Rescue Group Weapons: * With a custom built gunlance and shield, Purrcival stands at the front of any rescue effort, protecting his fellow Tailraiders as they provide direct aid to distressed hunters and palicos. Though heavy and large, Purrcival wields this weapon with surprising grace and finesse. * Felyne Iron Sword - Purrcival keeps a standard issue palico sword strapped across his back as a backup weapon. He uses it on the occasions when he has been disarmed of his primary weapon, or needs to drop the gunlance and shield for more mobility. * Tailraider Gadgets - Purrcival keeps a pouch containing a variety of necessary tools for the Tailraiders, most notably a generous supply of vigorwasp spray for first aid purposes, and smoke bombs for screening escapes from hostile monsters. * Grani - A Mernos wingdrake. One of many used by the Tailraiders as a method of quick transport in and out of rescue locations. While technically capable of combat, wingdrakes are rather fragile when compared to the usual targets of hunters, and Purrcival avoids bringing Grani into combat when possible. Still, the wingdrake is capable of being used as a warmount. Grani in particular responds to a whistle Purrcival has built into his helmet. Armor: While at home and not on duty, Purrcival is commonly seen in the typical Palico getup- leather vest and hat. However, when deployed or prepping for a rescue mission, Purrcival dons a set of Legiana Mail, providing him ample protection without too much weight. Bio: A Tailraider of considerable repute, Purrcival is the oldest of 12. Always larger than his siblings, and possessed of considerable athleticism- with strength comparable to a human, Purrcival was quickly picked up and inducted into the Hunter's Guild as one of their palicos. Purrcival served with another hunter in the Old World before an injury left the hunter unable to continue their career. Staying with the Hunter's Guild, Purrcival was among those selected to join the Fifth Fleet as they headed out towards the New World. Upon reaching the new world, Purrcival and several other Felynes without Hunter partners banded together to form the Tailraiders, support to hunter teams as they embarked on missions in the New World. The Tailraiders grew in number as the years went by, and different specializations were formed to fit the different needs of the Commission: Support and logistics staff, safari gatherers, auxiliary hunters, rescue teams, and whatever else the Commission felt necessary. Owing to his size and skill, Purrcival became member of the Tailraider Rescue Group: heavily armed and armored Tailraiders mounted on wingdrakes, responsible for swooping into mission areas and ensuring downed hunters made it back to base. With surprising efficiency, by the time the Sixth Fleet arrived in Astera, Purrcival had risen through the ranks and made his mark as team leader for TRG-1, sent into the most dangerous locations to rescue and support beleaguered hunters during the most dangerous of hunts. As things have mostly calmed down after the events in Seliana, Purrcival and the rest of TRG-1 spend most of their days training new hunters and palicos as they arrive in Astera, though Purrcival still feels the call of adventure and is ready to answer any call at a moment's notice.</s> <\|message\|>Domick The smell of herbs and moisture was strong this morning. This was one of the few times Domic was lucky enough to be alone at the communal baths while his tub was smaller than most, and lacked a heater, the quiet was something he could only find in his dreams. It was hard for him to connect with his fellow hunters. They seemed so… Jolly. So eager. Most were aces as well. It made Domic feel lesser. Weaker. He couldn't drag them down to his level. As he dunked his head into the ice cold water Domic felt his body engulfed once more, and his skin felt like it was burning despite bathing. When he got out his stomach growled and as usual, Domic began chewing on his tongue. The metallic taste teased his hunger. "Lets eat." after drying off Domic donned his clothes, followed by his armor, and head to the cantina. It was loud and bustling. Hunters, handlers, researchers, and Palicos were out and about doing their business. Domic did his best to stay out of the way as he made his way to his table. But as he did, he saw that there were no seats. From all the noise and hubbub, it seemed like everyone was at the gathering hall. All good and seats were there due to the comet. "Right. Forgot about that." Domic never much liked the gathering hall. Too far from his gardens. Too many people. But he'll deal with it. He had to. Sure enough there were large crowds at the Gathering Hall. So many people coursing, singing, and feasting. Domic ordered some food and went to find a table, though he had to eat with a group of strangers. He minded his business as he ate his meal; a big hunk of roasted wyvern tail, with buttered bread, served with a side of rice with Mosswine brain curry, and a large mug of wyverian brandy. Domic ate heartily as he passively listened to others chat and talk. Apparently there was some big mission going to happen soon. Domic was considering it. Money's been a bit tight since Domic commissioned his Super Scattergun. He's been able to pay his living expanses easy enough via gathering and his garden, but he wouldn't be able to pay for any equipment upgrades unless he can find a real good bounty. This could be his lucky break. Of course, he might end up having to work with others but… He'll just have to deal with it. He had to. At the notice board Domic simply wrote his name in the biggest, newest request. Hearing that something fell from the meteor does sound interesting, though Domic doubts it's anything too big. Otherwise the older hunters would've already been sent out. Domic knew how this usually goes down: eager boobies go out thinking they've found a big haul, and fueled by youth they lay down the ground works for a new settlement or research base, but it'll be years before it yields any results. In the mean time the youth will just clear out the local threats and await further orders. That's how it usually goes. "And if it doesn't… That's when things get messy." After signing up for the job Domic turned to head back to his room. He'll need to stick up on supplies. Potions, rations, bombs, ammo. They're heading north so that could also mean cold weather. Fortunately his armor was quite adapt at dealing with the cold, but some hot drinks would be helpful nonetheless. There was also the possibility that once he's up there, he won't be coming back to Astera for a while. He'll need to make arrangements for someone to tend to hos garden and ferry supplies to wherever he'll be going. A bunch of logistical stuff. "Work's never done."</s> <\|message\|>Jaden Jaden "How did I have overslept???," a confused Jaden exclaimed while in his bed as he realized that it was around noon. Quickly getting out of bed and into clothes. Normally a certain kinsect named Arania would wake him up before it got too late in the day. But, as Jaden was halfway putting on his clothes. He spotted the still sleeping Arania in her bed on a desk. Jaden only sighed as he finished putting on his clothes. "Maybe we should stop staying up so late." Talking to himself as he walked over to Arania. Jaden had been staying up with others as they watched Prismata's Comet. Amazed by the sight of the colorful comet and perhaps stayed up too late last night. Now he and Arania are finally paying for it. Now standing next to Arania, Jaden started to coax her to consciousness. Speaking softly, "Wake up, Arania, time to wake up." Repeating himself. It felt kinda weird to Jaden since it is Arania that normally wakes him up, and now the tables have turned. Soon enough, Arania's eyes started to open and made a pleasant, almost chirping sound upon seeing Jaden. They say that kinsects do not really form bonds with their owners but with Arania. Jaden feels that that is simply not true. As he gently petted her and as he was done. Arania flew up and landed on his right shoulder. "Good girl Arania," Jaden said happily. Arania replied with an affectionate chirp. "Sorry to wake you up but, we are running late, and I do not want to miss out on that quest." With that done with Jaden headed to the Gathering Hall. Ready to take in the festivities. It was quite the sight when he arrived to see everyone busy having fun and celebrating. Jaden had half a mind to join them but, he was on a mission. Pushing through the crowd the best he could without disturbing Arania. But she simply flew up and watched Jaden move through the crowd. Until finally, he was at the main mission board. Arania flying down and landing again on his right shoulder. It did not take long for him to locate the mission he was looking for. He was glad that there was still room for him. When he heard that a big mission was coming and that it was related to Prismata's Comet, Jaden knew that he wanted in and chance as it despite his concern for sleeping in. He can still join, and Jaden wrote his on one of the blank spaces. Letting out a sigh of relief as he finished and thought about visiting the doctor before a rumble came from his stomach. "Ahhh... I did forget to eat breakfast or lunch, rather." Jaden said under his breath as he put a hand on his stomach. Maybe I should eat something before I see Dr. Daelen, he thought. Can't go on a mission to find something in uncharted territory without some food. So turning around, Jaden went to get some lunch. He is going to need a full stomach on this new adventure, and he can't wait for it to begin.</s>	<\|message\|>Purrcival The morning was busier than usual. The Gathering Hall was a hub of activity- moreso than usual. With Prismata's Comet high in the sky, Astera had been turned into a multi-week festival ground- missions were still ongoing, but for the most part, people were taking it easy and viewing the comet during the day and night. Not for nothing, it was a breathtaking sight to say the least, Purrcival had enjoyed many a night carousing with his fellow felynes, enjoying the merry atmosphere and the lights and colors. Today was shaking up to be a bit different. The atmosphere was different, there was buzzing about a big mission to investigate a nearby crash site. Probably nothing, but it was a chance for the Research Commission to get information on locations previously undiscovered by the Research Commission. That fact alone had most of Astera interested- not just the hunters, but the Tailraiders as well. Purrcival and a small group of his fellow Tailraiders were already making their way through the crowded Gathering Hall, the smaller felynes deftly weaving their way inbetween the legs of the human occupants, while the larger Purrcival made a small wake for himself in the crowd. The smallest one was carrying a clipboard with notes, while another two were carrying large packs above their heads. "Tailraider support is going to be difficult to purrvide for this one," the smaller palico commented idly, her paws scratching something off on the clipboard, "We have no idea about the layout, the possible meownsters, nothing!" Purrcival let out a low growl, it always felt like the Tailraiders were given the short end of the stick. At least the hunters had the ability to sign up for the missions they wanted to go on- if some hunter and their partners wanted to risk life and paw venturing into unknown lands, that was their purrogative. The Tailraiders didn't have that luxury though, like most of the support staff in the Research Commission, they were meant to make the lives of the hunters easier- even at cost to themselves. "How are we supposed to respond to SOS flares if we don't know what we're jumping into?" The smaller palico continued, as the group took a seat at a smaller table, closer towards the kitchen. Purrcival nodded as a small group of cooks dropped off palico sized portions of food for them. While not particularly cliquish, the kitchen palicos were always quick to get food out to their fellow felynes, so the Tailraiders never had to wait too long to be fed. "We should tell the Commission to postpone the mission until we've had a chance to send a scouting party to map the area." the clipboard wielding palico continued between bits of wyvern-sausage and jumbo sized fish. "This mission is the scouting party," Purrcival reminded her, "Scouting parties always hold the most risk in that regard- that's probably why the reward is so high." "Mrowr, if the mission is so risky why do we never get hazard pay?" one of the other palicos grumbled. "We're the ones stuck cleaning up the mess if things go wrong." "Its just business as usual," Purrcival replied, waving a paw dismissively "That's what we signed up for anyway." Purrcival wiped his mouth with a white paw as he finished his quick and hearty meal. "Anyway, we cant afford to pawddle too long. Get the gear and wingdrakes set, I'm going to go meet with Dr. Paeris" "Huh? Why are you meeting with the doc?" one of the palicos questioned him, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "The good doctor wants me to provide direct suppurrrt for this meowsion" Purrcival replied with a shrug as he got up from the table, stuffing a sausage into his pocket. "What? How come you get the easy job?" the clipboard wielding palico complained. "Benefits of being the boss," Purrcival replied with an easy wave as he exited the Gathering Hall. A quick trip to his quarters, to equip his weapons and armor, and Purrcival was on his way to see Dr. Paeris to prepare for the mission briefing.</s>
<\|description\|>Isla Gavins Isla Gavins__________________________________________________ _________________________________________________ "Research, battles, and new-land exploration! Och, what a lovely time this'll be!" Theme Of A Researcher X Battle With A Researcher _________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ Age: 24 Gender: Female Home Region: Galar Appearance: Standing at 5'10" and weighing in at just over 160lbs, Isla sports a head of messy shoulder-length ginger hair complemented with a pair of big, brown eyes. Her fair complexion gives a nice brightness to her smooth skin, allowing her rosy-red cheeks to be clear for anyone to see. Smiles are her go-to expression, cheery demeanor keeping her lips curved as she expresses her curiosity through slight raises of her brows to whatever she's eyeing at the moment. She stands straight, having good posture that allows her full height to be expressed without fail to everyone she meets. Her usual attire consists of a yellow shirt with black stripes, under a light waist-long jacket with a skirt that remains slightly above her knees in length. Her bright legs are darkened and fully covered by her gray stockings, leading down to a pair of black dress shoes. She has a bulkier yellow coat for colder weather stowed away, along with jeans and general sleepwear for when she's not on the road. For accessories, she's always carrying around a bag for her clothing and writing supplies. The bag having a few patches on it, marking trips to both Sinnoh and Orre. It also has some initials on it, from an unspecified "D.L" and "R.R", the former having a small smile beside it while the latter is littered by hearts around the letters. A chain dangles around her neck with a fully-colored steel Chansey as it's vocal point, and she has a pair of small hoop earrings that are usually hidden by her hair. Personality: Enthusiastic is the simplest way to describe Isla. She's an eager individual, always on the move and ready to spring into action. Nothing excites her like exploration and Pokemon research, the girl willing to go to dramatic length to get her answers and not letting small things like fear get in the way of science. This obsession with research can lead to her spacing out and occasionally rambling off as she takes notes, falling out of a conversation if her mind wanders too far. Not to say she'd willingly ignore someone: She's kind, one to look out for others as a fair and generally simplistic person. Trouble is not something she can turn away from, a mother hen that's willing to stick her nose in any situation to try and solve it, especially when someone is in danger. Her tolerance for unnecessary violence outside of a sportsman competition between trainers is zilch: Seeing a mistreated Pokemon or person will get her to bare her fangs of aggression and step up to tell someone off, or worse if it comes to it. While not bossy, she's happy to make suggestions she'd think are best for other people, even if they don't accept it. Attitude directed at her can be met with a hint of sass, though she'll generally disregard it as someone still having some growing to do if they think they need to be aggressive to make a point. Such approaches yield no results with her, the woman not willing to budge to someone trying to force her hand unless the situation was truly dire. To which if extremes were taken, she'd not be one to forgive such a thing. Scientific side being the key to her adult conversations, she's got a gentle tone to calm younger crowds as well. Always ready to put the kettle on for a conversation, or cook up a storm when presented with the opportunity, she has a way of easily making connections over time. Supportive of people's goals and endeavors, it brings her joy to see others grow: And it brings a hint of sadness to see someone fall off their path and stagnate. She takes a gentle approach to Pokemon, too. Wanting to get close and study their habits though her friendliness sometimes can get her chased off. She's smarter than to go try and observe an Ursaring up close, but when it comes to smaller Pokemon she's willing to try and slowly slip into the scene to get a closer look, even if it means peeking out of a tree to get a good look at the subject of her study. And no matter where her studies take her, that smile of hers is sure to follow. Pokémon Name: Conch Species: Slowbro (Galarian) Gender: Male Ability: Quick Draw Moves: * Heal Pulse * Shell Side Arm * Disable * Zen Headbutt * Reflect * Light Screen</s> <\|message\|>Botan Naito \| ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ \| \| \| ✦ Botan Naito ✦ \| - \| --- Jarvis was doing an excellent job from where Botan was looking. He'd already found a handful of people! Well, this will be even easier than I expected! She thought to herself. Botan was happily awaiting the people on the lower deck to start making their way up, the thought that they might ignore her not even once crossing her mind. A small commotion at the stairwell nearby drew Botan's attention away from the prospective teammates below, her hair bouncing as she turned quickly to find a young man with his hand clamped in the massive maw of a Pokémon. She regarded the two of them with wide eyes, struggling to remember what this particular Pokémon was called and if it was dangerous. Maybe this person needed help?! She didn't expect that he would ask to join up with her. She blinked at the recently released man and the Pokémon beside him for a few moments, and then she dove forward with her hands outstretched and a smile from ear to ear. "Hello! Of course you are welcome to join me!" She said, grabbing Felix's hand in her own and shaking it. "Felix, was it? My name is Botan! It is a pleasure to meet you. My Pokémon partner will be back any moment now with the rest of the group." Botan was nothing if not enthusiastic. She couldn't wait for Jarvis to return now - he would be so proud of her, finding a member for the group all on her own! Nevermind the fact that Felix and his friend approached her first. Botan released her grip on Felix's hand and looked down at the Pokémon next to him, giving it a smile. "This little one brought you over here, yes? She has a sharp eye!" Meanwhile on the lower deck, the Machamp folded a pair of arms behind his back and nodded at Arlo's statement. The blue haired man was right, he was gathering suitable companions. A survivalist would be a perfect addition. Jarvis stood by, waiting patiently while the humans talked among themselves. He met the Ninetale's eyes with a neutral expression, though he breathed in and puffed his chest out a little, letting the other Pokémon know that he was no pushover despite the uniform (that he wore with pride). Once the trainers started moving, Jarvis gestured politely for them to go ahead, and he would follow after. When he spotted Botan again with a stranger, Jarvis swiftly made his way over to the young lady. He gave Felix and his Mawile a suspicious look, but then Botan was tapping on his arm and introducing everyone. "Hello everyone! I'm so glad you decided to chat with me. My name is Botan Naito, and this is Felix! We are building an amazing group for exploring Panmia Island, and you who were chosen by Jarvis are invited to join." Her demeanor was dazzling, and it seemed she was already quite comfortable with looping Felix into the whole situation even though they'd just met. The Machamp offered a shallow bow to the lot of them so they would be able to discern who exactly "Jarvis" was. Botan clasped her hands together in front of her and smiled. "An exciting proposition, isn't it?"</s> <\|message\|>Felix Charron Felix Mentions: EVERYONE Location: M.S Marlow --- --- There was no way this girl was going to go for it, not with the half-hearted greeting he'd given. He almost felt bad for his pokemon, but that's what she got for being so stubborn. "See, she doesn't eve-" Felix's eyes went wide as the girl suddenly approached him and went so far as to grab his hand. "Wh-" Apparently this girl had a very different concept of personal space. It wasn't the handshake, so much as the fact that she'd just forced one that hadn't been offered. Great, he now had a group. L-o-v-e-l-y. One of these days his pokemon wasn't going to get her way, but that day was not today. "Great. That's great. Thanks." Felix's lips formed a tight line as he fought to keep a straight face and not let too many of his tumultuous inner feelings leak to the surface. This wasn't her fault, it was his pokemon's fault, and since he'd already decided not to tie a lead brick to her pokeball and leave her at the bottom of the ocean to think about what she'd done... he had no one left to vent at. He'd simply have to endure. And then suddenly an above average height Machoke stomped over with more people. Well at least it looked like the whole group thing was going to be taken care of quickly, though he wondered why she was talking like this was his idea. "Yep... that's us... grouping up." Felix did try to smile again. His face threatened to split open, not because of how wide it was, but because of hoe hard his cheeks seemed to resist the action. "So exciting." 'Arcues please send this ship into an Avalugg.' Never mind the fact that they were approaching a tropical island and were so close they could probably swim the rest of the way anyway... All the while, Venus maintained her innocent facade, soaking up Botan's praise and completely ignoring Jarvis giving her the side-eye. At this point, no one could take her victory from her.</s>	<\|message\|>Isla Gavins 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒 𝔾𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕤 𝕃𝕠𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟: M.S Marlow - Upper Deck --- --- Things were really picking up, now. With the photographer confirming he wasn't associated with the lass and her Machamp, that just meant it was time to investigate this all further. Though before she knew it, another lad carved his own path into their little group building session, only raising their numbers further. "A survivalist?" She repeated with a slight hint of amazement. This was far beyond her first time being out in the wild, but having someone that specialized being out in the wilds sounded good to her. The jab from the photographer towards this 'survivalist' was amusing, but at the same time, Isla more often than not put blind faith in folks, and wanted to give the young man his chance. Besides, if he ended up in a bad spot, her nurse's training would come in handy to fix 'em up and teach a lesson about fibbing! Not that she thought he was lying. "Come now, don't gotta do 'em like that." She scolded lightly, before offering the blue-haired young man a smile. "Lot'sa wilderness, so I'd say someone who knows how'ta live in it is welcome aboard! Och, we can exchange some good berry recipes down the road!" She was always willing to learn, so surely someone who was quite the survivalist would have things to share. Or he'd have to make something up to keep her convinced by his bluff, though how difficult that'd be was hard to gauge at a glance. Taken away from the two lads and their (To her assumption) soon to be continued jabbing at one-another, she noticed the Machamp's communication and was genuinely impressed. Pokemon were intelligent creatures, but he definitely seemed like a well taught and polite fella. Maybe she could get a suit like that for her sweet little Slowbro? Though, he was about as slow a buried rock, so it probably wouldn't make much of a difference. It'd be cute, though. "Well, I'm ofta' investigate this lass." She announced, adjusting her sunhat as she happily made her way towards the upper deck to get a good look at her two other new companions. She couldn't help but feel like the Machamp was still a bit cautious, maybe overprotective or raised to be that way, not that she was bothered by it. As she reached her destination, she got to meet this 'Botan' face-to-face, and her presentation was nothing short of amusing. Eyes darting from her, to Felix, to Jarvis the well-dressed Machamp, her palms gently rested against each other as she offered a bright smile at the group proposition. Felix's less than enthusiastic reaction to the situation was, unfortunately for him, lost on her. "Well ain't that jus' an honor? Can't go refusin' something like that, cannae?" She removed her sunhat, holding it over her chest with a small bow, grinning ear-to-ear with excitement as she offered a small introduction to the gathering group. "Professor Gavins, at yer service! Oh, but we'll be pals, I can jus' tell. So call me Isla."</s>
<\|description\|>Isla Gavins Isla Gavins__________________________________________________ _________________________________________________ "Research, battles, and new-land exploration! Och, what a lovely time this'll be!" Theme Of A Researcher X Battle With A Researcher _________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ Age: 24 Gender: Female Home Region: Galar Appearance: Standing at 5'10" and weighing in at just over 160lbs, Isla sports a head of messy shoulder-length ginger hair complemented with a pair of big, brown eyes. Her fair complexion gives a nice brightness to her smooth skin, allowing her rosy-red cheeks to be clear for anyone to see. Smiles are her go-to expression, cheery demeanor keeping her lips curved as she expresses her curiosity through slight raises of her brows to whatever she's eyeing at the moment. She stands straight, having good posture that allows her full height to be expressed without fail to everyone she meets. Her usual attire consists of a yellow shirt with black stripes, under a light waist-long jacket with a skirt that remains slightly above her knees in length. Her bright legs are darkened and fully covered by her gray stockings, leading down to a pair of black dress shoes. She has a bulkier yellow coat for colder weather stowed away, along with jeans and general sleepwear for when she's not on the road. For accessories, she's always carrying around a bag for her clothing and writing supplies. The bag having a few patches on it, marking trips to both Sinnoh and Orre. It also has some initials on it, from an unspecified "D.L" and "R.R", the former having a small smile beside it while the latter is littered by hearts around the letters. A chain dangles around her neck with a fully-colored steel Chansey as it's vocal point, and she has a pair of small hoop earrings that are usually hidden by her hair. Personality: Enthusiastic is the simplest way to describe Isla. She's an eager individual, always on the move and ready to spring into action. Nothing excites her like exploration and Pokemon research, the girl willing to go to dramatic length to get her answers and not letting small things like fear get in the way of science. This obsession with research can lead to her spacing out and occasionally rambling off as she takes notes, falling out of a conversation if her mind wanders too far. Not to say she'd willingly ignore someone: She's kind, one to look out for others as a fair and generally simplistic person. Trouble is not something she can turn away from, a mother hen that's willing to stick her nose in any situation to try and solve it, especially when someone is in danger. Her tolerance for unnecessary violence outside of a sportsman competition between trainers is zilch: Seeing a mistreated Pokemon or person will get her to bare her fangs of aggression and step up to tell someone off, or worse if it comes to it. While not bossy, she's happy to make suggestions she'd think are best for other people, even if they don't accept it. Attitude directed at her can be met with a hint of sass, though she'll generally disregard it as someone still having some growing to do if they think they need to be aggressive to make a point. Such approaches yield no results with her, the woman not willing to budge to someone trying to force her hand unless the situation was truly dire. To which if extremes were taken, she'd not be one to forgive such a thing. Scientific side being the key to her adult conversations, she's got a gentle tone to calm younger crowds as well. Always ready to put the kettle on for a conversation, or cook up a storm when presented with the opportunity, she has a way of easily making connections over time. Supportive of people's goals and endeavors, it brings her joy to see others grow: And it brings a hint of sadness to see someone fall off their path and stagnate. She takes a gentle approach to Pokemon, too. Wanting to get close and study their habits though her friendliness sometimes can get her chased off. She's smarter than to go try and observe an Ursaring up close, but when it comes to smaller Pokemon she's willing to try and slowly slip into the scene to get a closer look, even if it means peeking out of a tree to get a good look at the subject of her study. And no matter where her studies take her, that smile of hers is sure to follow. Pokémon Name: Conch Species: Slowbro (Galarian) Gender: Male Ability: Quick Draw Moves: * Heal Pulse * Shell Side Arm * Disable * Zen Headbutt * Reflect * Light Screen</s> <\|message\|>Fjord The photographer ignored the incomplete thoughts of Mr.'Survivalist,' mainly just to annoy him for not giving the satisfaction of paying attention to the blowhard. One thing he did not expect was to be scolded and boy did he not expect her to actually buy what this big mouth was saying though he took it in his stride. Besides, it was funnier to see how this dude would flounder about trying to maintain the lie. "You're right. I need to buy him dinner and then do him like that. Or I could take you out to dinner instead." Ferris chimed in brightly, never missing a beat even if it was more of a detriment to himself. As they followed the Machamp, Ferris' Ninetails did not give much thought to the little Zorua prancing around her ankles. Such things were beneath her though the Dark-Type certainly made for far better company than that little hellcat, Fjord; being admired for the majestic beauty that she was was quite satisfying, but that Machamp was a different story. If it were not for the fact that Ferris had ordered her not to start fights then that muscle butler would have been fish food. Up on the upper deck the trio met with the Machamps trainer, a pleasant, more energetic woman, and an ever unexcited young man that looked like he was rooting for the iceberg in Titanic or whatever Pokemon version existed in this world. While the red-head with the sunhat was quite oblivious to Felix's discontent, Arlo had caught the scent like a bloodhound and honed in on it with Ferris who followed up with,"Huh, I was thinking he was the butler. Isn't there a minimum height requirement for marriage?" If Felix wanted to punch him for that not even the older trainer would blame him. This Botan lady was basically searching for a team and let her Machamp do the scouting. Huh, that was definitely one of the more unique ways that he could've been asked to join. "A team up huh? Well, adventures are always better in groups." Not that he would know, he always travelled on his own. "Ferris Roe, photographer and trainer extraordinaire." He bowed in a very Galarian manner for his introduction, yet there was a confidence about it as if he was not being polite nor was he submissive. If Jarvis' senses were as good as he thought they were, then that Pokemon should have had a grasp of what kind of strength that laid beneath the surface of this trainer. Meanwhile, Fjord was being chased by a Rockruff and now he heard over the PA that they were going to be docking soon! The Meowth sprinted around the ship, ducking and weaving through people and Pokemon until he caught sight of his trainer up on the deck above so he made a mad dash towards him. "Mreow!" "Fjord? What's going...? Where did you get all that food?"</s> <\|message\|>Felix Charron Felix Mentions: EVERYONE Location: M.S Marlow --- --- Venus might have celebrated a hair too early. Her victory could totally be taken from her, and she feared it was happening before her eyes. For, as the newcomers spoke... Felix wasn't one to get flustered all that easily, but he was already a little out of sorts, and now totally caught off guard. His face flushed ten different shades of scarlet in about two seconds before he finally snapped. "Wh-who the hell are you marrying me off to!? I only met her ten seconds before you did!" Felix shouted back at the presumptuous gaggle of strangers. So furiously flustered was he in general, he never even bothered to hone in on Ferris for his remark about Felix's height. "Ugh, I didn't even want to be here in the first place!" He took a sizeable step away from Botan and then crossed his arms while averting his eyes from everyone else. Venus's actual mouth hung open in dismay before she managed to gather her courage to approach her flustered trainer. Shorter than average or not, the poor mawile was even shorter, so the best she could do was cling to his leg while frantically patting his knee in vain in the hopes her presence would calm him down before he abandoned the group entirely...</s> <\|message\|>Botan Naito \| ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ \| \| \| ✦ Botan Naito ✦ \| - \| --- At first things were going quite well. Excellent, even, although Felix didn't look quite as enthusiastic as his words would imply (he did say it was "great" and "exciting" after all). Botan's cheerful smile was in place while the three from the lower deck introduced themselves. She was especially excited once Isla and Ferris mentioned their occupations. An accomplished trainer and a photographer? Lovely, they'd have plenty of protection and some physical memories to share! Plus a professor? A real professor?! Botan's eyes were practically star-shaped. Isla probably knew all there was to know about Pokémon! Yes, everything was going splendidly. Until. At about the same time as Felix, Botan's face instantly resembled a tamato berry. The sudden heat blooming on her cheeks made it look like steam was coming from her ears too. "U-um, wait, we aren't..." The follow up comment from Ferris was kind of harsh too - not to mention the butlers of the Naito family would never dress like that. Botan's quieter corrections were drowned out but Felix's louder objections. She looked a little hurt when Felix stepped away from her, but tried to compose herself after a bit of nervous laughter. Sensing that she was becoming distressed, Jarvis stepped up behind Botan for support - and to fix all of the boys gathered with a look of warning. Only Isla was spared. "Well... s-sorry about the confusion," Botan said. She coughed into her fist to clear her throat. "Yes, he and I just met. We are all strangers... but not for long!" The shore of the island was in view, so if the lot of them were grouping up they would have to seal the deal now, lest any of them wanted to take their chances finding a group once already on land. With this in mind, Botan brought the smile back to her face, but if it was a little smaller than before the only one who'd be able to tell was herself. She wouldn't take 'no' for an answer! "I think we would all do well together," she said. Slowly she turned to Felix, giving him an apologetic look. "Which includes you. You don't really mean that, right...?" Botan glanced at the Mawile, hoping it could convince her trainer. Meanwhile a Pokémon came running up the stairs, followed by another and a young woman. Botan blinked in surprise. Maybe with his intrusion, the focus could shift away from Felix and he would reconsider? Botan didn't want to lose the person "she" recruited if possible.</s>	<\|message\|>Isla Gavins 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒 𝔾𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕤 𝕃𝕠𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟: M.S Marlow - Upper Deck --- --- To Isla's dismay, things soured a bit in the group as the boys she'd brought up with her were not exactly the most tactful individuals. While Arlo was making assumptions, Ferris was taking jabs like he had back on the main deck. Seemed to be a normal part of his personality, and she personally wasn't feeling positive about it. Sunhat back atop her head, she crossed her arms at the building tension, shooting the two loudmouthed boys a short but obvious glare before turning her attention back towards Botan as she tried to fix the situation. Poor gal had to recover from the embarrassment first, and who could blame her? Isla knew she'd feel the same way if someone assumed something like that. Her mind wandered to the flirtatious reply photo-boy had offered before they made their way up here, and her face visibly scrunched. "Aye, can't help but think the same!" Isla responded to Botan's enthusiasm about them working well together, attempting to read the room, or, uh, the ship, and help get things on track. Noting her look towards Felix, Isla approached Botan at a slow pace, head turning to eye Jarvis for a moment since he seemed to be a little tense and she didn't want to offend the large Pokemon by coming closer to his trainer. Standing closer to her was more of a signal that she was more willing to group up, and generally agreed with her course of action. "I think we jus' need a little more decency an' manners." She added, eyeing Ferris in particular. Arlo jumped the gun with assumptions but at least he wasn't directly insulting this Felix lad. Or with how much the boy took offense, maybe it counted. Isla figured if he had a little maturity he could allow bygones to be bygones, but she doubted he'd be very motivated to do much of anything if more immature comments came his way. It was surprising to say the least when she saw a Galarian Meowth approaching the group in a bit of a hurry with some food. Judging by Ferris' reaction, she also assumed the little thing nabbed it from someone else with how much of a hurry it was in. But how this was handled was more up to the trainer than her; It'd help her get a bit of a better judging of his character before they hit land, which she was starting to feel was a necessity with the whole moment of awkwardness she had to just endure.</s>
<\|description\|>Isla Gavins Isla Gavins__________________________________________________ _________________________________________________ "Research, battles, and new-land exploration! Och, what a lovely time this'll be!" Theme Of A Researcher X Battle With A Researcher _________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ Age: 24 Gender: Female Home Region: Galar Appearance: Standing at 5'10" and weighing in at just over 160lbs, Isla sports a head of messy shoulder-length ginger hair complemented with a pair of big, brown eyes. Her fair complexion gives a nice brightness to her smooth skin, allowing her rosy-red cheeks to be clear for anyone to see. Smiles are her go-to expression, cheery demeanor keeping her lips curved as she expresses her curiosity through slight raises of her brows to whatever she's eyeing at the moment. She stands straight, having good posture that allows her full height to be expressed without fail to everyone she meets. Her usual attire consists of a yellow shirt with black stripes, under a light waist-long jacket with a skirt that remains slightly above her knees in length. Her bright legs are darkened and fully covered by her gray stockings, leading down to a pair of black dress shoes. She has a bulkier yellow coat for colder weather stowed away, along with jeans and general sleepwear for when she's not on the road. For accessories, she's always carrying around a bag for her clothing and writing supplies. The bag having a few patches on it, marking trips to both Sinnoh and Orre. It also has some initials on it, from an unspecified "D.L" and "R.R", the former having a small smile beside it while the latter is littered by hearts around the letters. A chain dangles around her neck with a fully-colored steel Chansey as it's vocal point, and she has a pair of small hoop earrings that are usually hidden by her hair. Personality: Enthusiastic is the simplest way to describe Isla. She's an eager individual, always on the move and ready to spring into action. Nothing excites her like exploration and Pokemon research, the girl willing to go to dramatic length to get her answers and not letting small things like fear get in the way of science. This obsession with research can lead to her spacing out and occasionally rambling off as she takes notes, falling out of a conversation if her mind wanders too far. Not to say she'd willingly ignore someone: She's kind, one to look out for others as a fair and generally simplistic person. Trouble is not something she can turn away from, a mother hen that's willing to stick her nose in any situation to try and solve it, especially when someone is in danger. Her tolerance for unnecessary violence outside of a sportsman competition between trainers is zilch: Seeing a mistreated Pokemon or person will get her to bare her fangs of aggression and step up to tell someone off, or worse if it comes to it. While not bossy, she's happy to make suggestions she'd think are best for other people, even if they don't accept it. Attitude directed at her can be met with a hint of sass, though she'll generally disregard it as someone still having some growing to do if they think they need to be aggressive to make a point. Such approaches yield no results with her, the woman not willing to budge to someone trying to force her hand unless the situation was truly dire. To which if extremes were taken, she'd not be one to forgive such a thing. Scientific side being the key to her adult conversations, she's got a gentle tone to calm younger crowds as well. Always ready to put the kettle on for a conversation, or cook up a storm when presented with the opportunity, she has a way of easily making connections over time. Supportive of people's goals and endeavors, it brings her joy to see others grow: And it brings a hint of sadness to see someone fall off their path and stagnate. She takes a gentle approach to Pokemon, too. Wanting to get close and study their habits though her friendliness sometimes can get her chased off. She's smarter than to go try and observe an Ursaring up close, but when it comes to smaller Pokemon she's willing to try and slowly slip into the scene to get a closer look, even if it means peeking out of a tree to get a good look at the subject of her study. And no matter where her studies take her, that smile of hers is sure to follow. Pokémon Name: Conch Species: Slowbro (Galarian) Gender: Male Ability: Quick Draw Moves: * Heal Pulse * Shell Side Arm * Disable * Zen Headbutt * Reflect * Light Screen</s> <\|message\|>Arlo Knox Ayana & ArloMentions: Yes. Location: Panmia Island - Base Camp --- --- Arlo clutched the Pokedex to his chest as the others talked amongst themselves. He found himself just daydreaming about all that was ahead, the comments of his group members weaving even more possibilities into his reverie subconsciously. He held back a wide smile at the thought of catching his first Pokemon. He'd never even tried before, being that his current Pokemon was a gift from his parents and was a perfect companion for him. But having more friends could never hurt! Arlo was broken out of his trance by the others talking about how to go about starting their trek. He looked down at his Pokedex. The map showed a fine outline of Panmia island and the other, larger islands of the region, but aside from that the detail was limited. It did provide elevation analytics for most of the region though, it seemed, so finding elevated landmarks would be easier, were there any. Honestly to him it didn't matter much whether they had a plan or not. It seemed on the other hand Ayana wasn't entirely looking to provide her own input either. She listened to the group discussing amongst themselves as her eyes finally left her brother and explored their surroundings as she stood with her arms across her chest. Her Rockruff wandered around nearby, sniffing the shoes of their new travel partners. Arlo turned his glance back to the Pokedex wondering how exactly they were going to get across the bay of sorts to get to what looked like the mainland island north of Panmia Island. But soon his thoughts were interrupted. A lanky, middle-aged man pulling along a large cart filled with cases, boxes, tarps, and all manner of things approached the group, adjusting his glasses as he looked over its members. "Hello there young people! I don't believe I've visited your group yet." He said, interrupting the conversation and setting the wagon still as he shifted his heavy, overflowing backpack. He did a short spin and stepped around the side of his wagon before he began digging through the contents intently. "Don't mind me I'm just here to provide you a few travel gifts, curtesy of the Exploratory Office!" There was a short silence from him apart from his rummaging as he struggled to gather the gear he was trying to find. "Ah, here we are." He said, fishing out a few last items and tucking them into a travel bag. He thrusted the package forward to the person he was closest to, that happening to be Ayana, before returning to his wagon and reaching into a box for two specific items held in each hand. He approached again and handed an item each to two others, those being Isla and Felix. He smiled to himself, seeming content with the gifts before he began speaking. "These two here are very special items." He went, tapping the black top-hinging box that Isla held, and tweaking a small antenna on the radio-esque device he'd given to Felix. "This here is a revival-synthesizer-" He continued, tapping the black box intently. "-useful for generating a few revives per few days, in case your Pokemon become quite injured and you find yourself stuck without being able to heal them to consciousness! Take care of it- it's expensive and you won't get another." He said, the last bit developing a serious tone. But the excited quality of his voice quickly returned. "And this here is a universal tracker/inventory request device. You can use this to request a small supply drop of a couple items from most surface-level areas in the region. The supplies can take quite a few days to arrive and not every request is guaranteed though, so don't rely on it all the time, alright?" He finished looking at their faces to make sure they understood what he was saying. Seeming content, he returned to his wagon and hoisted its pulley over his shoulder. "Welp, it seems like you younguns are all ready to explore this new world-" He said happily. "-I wish you the best of luck!" He finished, and began rolling his wagon away just as he had before, his eyes scanning for other groups. Ayana seemed a bit surprised with the briefness of the gift-giving, but looked down at the bag thrust into her hands anyways. It seemed a bit full and peeking inside she saw an assortment of Pokéballs and other basic gear. Arlo chimed in happily as the man left. "Well then! It looks like we're all ready to go, huh? I reckon it doesn't matter too much where we start off, the other islands are so huge there's no way we end up running into another group too often, right? Might as well just head straight onward! Maybe to the Northern Coast?" He asked excitedly, looking at each of the other group members.</s> <\|message\|>Felix Charron Felix Mentions: @all y'all Location: Around --- --- "Exactly! We're on an uncharted island, that's why we-!" Felix had to bite his lip to keep himself from blowing up on Ferris again. He ran a hand down his face, taking a deep breath as Isla took over the conversation, the revelation of her partner pokemon, one he'd actually never seen before, helping to distract from the near loss of his cool. "Sure, yeah, that could work," Felix mumbled, pulling up the "map" on his pokedex. "That means we're leaving here entirely, which means we need to keep an eye on the sun so we know when to start looking for a place to set up camp. I don't need a 12-step plan, I ju-" And suddenly he was having some strange device shoved into his hands that could apparently call for supplies if it became necessary. That made sense, actually, since even Jarvis couldn't carry an endless supply of food and they could be here a while. With that distraction, Arlo took the chance to suggest the North coast, in other words, that they should just cut across to the entire other side of the island. It was extreme idea, but technically in line with Isla's idea. To be fair, he doubted many others would be so bold as to go to the entire opposite end of the island so soon. Felix glanced back at the map, trying to wedge the radio thing under one arm, but in the end opting to drop it into Venus's arms who fumbled slightly, but managed to keep it from hitting the ground, letting out a sigh of relief as the device settled in her grasp. "We could... and if we veer just a little east, by then we could call in supplies and maybe hop over to explore some of the smaller islands if we've found a pokemon that can carry us, or maybe we can just call for an inflatable boat or something..." Felix mused, but then paused. Was... he getting into this? Whatever, he was already here and he'd promised Venus he'd "give it a go" after all. If he was going to do this, he might as well make it worthwhile. "We can worry about that last bit once we get there, but for now that's a good enough plan for me." He couldn't help but shoot a sideways look at Ferris as he spoke, though he did his best to keep his expression neutral. "Unless anyone objects?" Ferris hadn't offered anything helpful, and thus hadn't given an opinion, and Botan hadn't had a chance to chime in yet.</s>	<\|message\|>Isla Gavins 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒 𝔾𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕤 𝕃𝕠𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟: Panmia Island Camp --- --- The items put into their possession from the Exploratory Office brought a look of surprise to Isla's face. Something that could create those little 'revive' things, huh? She hadn't seen such a device herself, but figured it'd be a good thing to have nonetheless. She could aid injured Pokemon, but couldn't revive anyone fainted. It'd definitely prove invaluable if they ended up in a tough spot. She tapped at it curiously, fingers trailing around the box for a moment as she simply took in the information provided. "Why, thank ya!" She happily exclaimed to the worker, before he set off. What a swell parting gift! Felix and Arlo seemed to be following along with her logic for the most part, though there was a fact that the island was quite large. There was plenty of ways to splinter off, she was sure, but a wood trek sounded fun. "No objections from me, if everyone's feelin' ready, that is?" Isla took the time to account for Arlo's quiet companion through most of this, that seasick lass. Surely the silence wasn't fear, considering she had a survivalist for a brother, right? Maybe she was still a little woozy from the ship. Plus, being so quiet, maybe she was a shy one! Cute, but in a traveling situation like this, it was much better to get to know your traveling partners. There'd be no fun moping the whole way! She'd have to break the ice while the others got excited, which wasn't particularly a problem. She skipped past the Rockruff who was instead met with the slow and blank-faced creature still standing in her place. It looked down, eyes locking onto the dog before responding to being sniffed with a simplistic and monotone "Bruh." Ayana could easily notice an approach from Isla, with a big peachy smile on her face. Hands holding the revival-synthesizer (Which she noted to put away before they actually set off,) She couldn't offer a hand like she normally would. But that didn't mean the professor couldn't offer her words. "Noticed you weren't feelin' top notch on the ship," She commented, concern in her calm tone. If Ayana was the shy type, Isla didn't want to startle her. "I hope you're feeling alright to travel. If not, we can surely wait a bit longer." It didn't occur to the woman that Ayana could've felt against grouping up, mostly due to Isla herself being an outward and friendly sort. Figuring instead a caring approach and some concern would help ease her into the surroundings that were much louder than her by a long shot.</s>
<\|description\|>Felix Charron Felix__________________________________________________ _________________________________________________ _________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ Age: 19 Gender: M Home Region: Kalos Appearance: Relatively short at around 5'5" and with a tendency to wear trendy clothes that are definitely style over function, as well as a fair bit of jewelry. (Honestly, just go by the picture... I suck at writing these parts.) Personality: He comes off as a solid mixture of aloof and abrasive. He's not terribly patient, either, so it's not hard to get him into a bad mood. He's not one to snap and start screaming at you, but it's not uncommon for him to fire off a few insensitive remarks if one ends up on his bad side. HIs somewhat antisocial behavior does not mean that he's shy, however. Far from it, and he's the farthest thing imaginable from a doormat. In normal conversation, when not otherwise incensed, he is typically polite if somewhat curt. There is also, as with many people, another side to him. A softer side that will come out without warning and at the most unexpected of times. He's not trying to hide it or anything, he just rarely has reason to show it. Blink and you'll miss it. Pokémon (1-2 mons) Name: Venus Species: Mawile Gender: F Ability: Sheer Force Moves: * Iron Defense * Crunch * Fire Fang * Thunder Punch * Iron Head * Baton Pass</s> <\|message\|>Felix Charron Felix Mentions: EVERYONE Location: M.S Marlow --- --- There was no way this girl was going to go for it, not with the half-hearted greeting he'd given. He almost felt bad for his pokemon, but that's what she got for being so stubborn. "See, she doesn't eve-" Felix's eyes went wide as the girl suddenly approached him and went so far as to grab his hand. "Wh-" Apparently this girl had a very different concept of personal space. It wasn't the handshake, so much as the fact that she'd just forced one that hadn't been offered. Great, he now had a group. L-o-v-e-l-y. One of these days his pokemon wasn't going to get her way, but that day was not today. "Great. That's great. Thanks." Felix's lips formed a tight line as he fought to keep a straight face and not let too many of his tumultuous inner feelings leak to the surface. This wasn't her fault, it was his pokemon's fault, and since he'd already decided not to tie a lead brick to her pokeball and leave her at the bottom of the ocean to think about what she'd done... he had no one left to vent at. He'd simply have to endure. And then suddenly an above average height Machoke stomped over with more people. Well at least it looked like the whole group thing was going to be taken care of quickly, though he wondered why she was talking like this was his idea. "Yep... that's us... grouping up." Felix did try to smile again. His face threatened to split open, not because of how wide it was, but because of hoe hard his cheeks seemed to resist the action. "So exciting." 'Arcues please send this ship into an Avalugg.' Never mind the fact that they were approaching a tropical island and were so close they could probably swim the rest of the way anyway... All the while, Venus maintained her innocent facade, soaking up Botan's praise and completely ignoring Jarvis giving her the side-eye. At this point, no one could take her victory from her.</s> <\|message\|>Isla Gavins 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒 𝔾𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕤 𝕃𝕠𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟: M.S Marlow - Upper Deck --- --- Things were really picking up, now. With the photographer confirming he wasn't associated with the lass and her Machamp, that just meant it was time to investigate this all further. Though before she knew it, another lad carved his own path into their little group building session, only raising their numbers further. "A survivalist?" She repeated with a slight hint of amazement. This was far beyond her first time being out in the wild, but having someone that specialized being out in the wilds sounded good to her. The jab from the photographer towards this 'survivalist' was amusing, but at the same time, Isla more often than not put blind faith in folks, and wanted to give the young man his chance. Besides, if he ended up in a bad spot, her nurse's training would come in handy to fix 'em up and teach a lesson about fibbing! Not that she thought he was lying. "Come now, don't gotta do 'em like that." She scolded lightly, before offering the blue-haired young man a smile. "Lot'sa wilderness, so I'd say someone who knows how'ta live in it is welcome aboard! Och, we can exchange some good berry recipes down the road!" She was always willing to learn, so surely someone who was quite the survivalist would have things to share. Or he'd have to make something up to keep her convinced by his bluff, though how difficult that'd be was hard to gauge at a glance. Taken away from the two lads and their (To her assumption) soon to be continued jabbing at one-another, she noticed the Machamp's communication and was genuinely impressed. Pokemon were intelligent creatures, but he definitely seemed like a well taught and polite fella. Maybe she could get a suit like that for her sweet little Slowbro? Though, he was about as slow a buried rock, so it probably wouldn't make much of a difference. It'd be cute, though. "Well, I'm ofta' investigate this lass." She announced, adjusting her sunhat as she happily made her way towards the upper deck to get a good look at her two other new companions. She couldn't help but feel like the Machamp was still a bit cautious, maybe overprotective or raised to be that way, not that she was bothered by it. As she reached her destination, she got to meet this 'Botan' face-to-face, and her presentation was nothing short of amusing. Eyes darting from her, to Felix, to Jarvis the well-dressed Machamp, her palms gently rested against each other as she offered a bright smile at the group proposition. Felix's less than enthusiastic reaction to the situation was, unfortunately for him, lost on her. "Well ain't that jus' an honor? Can't go refusin' something like that, cannae?" She removed her sunhat, holding it over her chest with a small bow, grinning ear-to-ear with excitement as she offered a small introduction to the gathering group. "Professor Gavins, at yer service! Oh, but we'll be pals, I can jus' tell. So call me Isla."</s> <\|message\|>Arlo Knox Ayana & ArloMentions: Yes. Location: MS Marlow - Main/Upper Deck --- --- The chipper expression on Arlo's face faltered for only a second as his eyes moved to the dark-haired guy who offered him a snide remark. His brow raised at the sass, his eyes scanning the man a bit as the other walked off. "Pfft.. bait? I'll show you-" He didn't finish his thought as a seemingly friendlier face instead offered him a smile and the benefit of the doubt. The sun-hatted redhead seemed the cheery sort - so at least there'd be some good vibes in the group, much to Arlo's appreciation. The idea of shoving the debby-downers into a group together with his sister was appealing, but he shook the thought off as he realized the girl in front of him actually took his survivalist remark seriously. "Aha- yeah- true, true. Maybe." He said as he scratched the side of his head. Either way, it seemed the Machamp was waiting for the few of them to meet up with its owner on the upper deck - and who was he to keep a lady waiting? They made their way up to the upper deck, the small Zorua opting to prance along in awe behind the heels of the unfamiliar, majestic-looking Alolan-Ninetales. Arlo himself opted not to drag his sister along for now - she was sick enough as is, it seemed. Well, he mostly chose not to because she would adamantly deny joining any sort of group- but hey, what she doesn't know won't hurt her. Until it's too late. It seemed that the owner of the Machamp though was a much more agreeable sort than his sister was. She seemed more than happy to welcome the three of them to the already-two-man group. Arlo had to hold back a small giggle at the imminent despair that was sure to come once his sibling found herself stuck along this journey with all these people. He didn't, however, hold back the less-snarky smile that grew across his face as he was greeted warmly. He lightly placed his hands on his hips as the little introductions were passed around. "Well aren't we just a lovely bunch? Thank you for inviting us over, Mr. and Mrs. Naito." He greeted, offering a slight nod towards Botan and Felix. "I'm Arlo." In the meantime on the main deck, Ayana released a frustrated groan. It was just what she needed. Some random Pokémon running off with their stuff. She took a couple uneasy steps forward as her hand moved to her hip and grabbed a Pokéball, the small red-and-white orb growing to fit her hand. There was the tell-tale tone of the Pokéball releasing before a small, brown Pokémon landed in front of her with a happy "Rockra!" "Hey buddy." She greeted the Rockruff, earning a concerned head-tilt from the canine as he caught a glimpse of her downtrodden condition. "Help me catch that- thing, alright?" She said, pointing towards the Meowth as it scampered away between people and Pokémon with its loot. Rockruff wasted no time in following the command, pouncing after it as Ayana followed behind in her light-headed state. She paid no mind to the overhead PA as it tolled more info and instructions regarding to imminent docking process.</s> <\|message\|>Fjord The photographer ignored the incomplete thoughts of Mr.'Survivalist,' mainly just to annoy him for not giving the satisfaction of paying attention to the blowhard. One thing he did not expect was to be scolded and boy did he not expect her to actually buy what this big mouth was saying though he took it in his stride. Besides, it was funnier to see how this dude would flounder about trying to maintain the lie. "You're right. I need to buy him dinner and then do him like that. Or I could take you out to dinner instead." Ferris chimed in brightly, never missing a beat even if it was more of a detriment to himself. As they followed the Machamp, Ferris' Ninetails did not give much thought to the little Zorua prancing around her ankles. Such things were beneath her though the Dark-Type certainly made for far better company than that little hellcat, Fjord; being admired for the majestic beauty that she was was quite satisfying, but that Machamp was a different story. If it were not for the fact that Ferris had ordered her not to start fights then that muscle butler would have been fish food. Up on the upper deck the trio met with the Machamps trainer, a pleasant, more energetic woman, and an ever unexcited young man that looked like he was rooting for the iceberg in Titanic or whatever Pokemon version existed in this world. While the red-head with the sunhat was quite oblivious to Felix's discontent, Arlo had caught the scent like a bloodhound and honed in on it with Ferris who followed up with,"Huh, I was thinking he was the butler. Isn't there a minimum height requirement for marriage?" If Felix wanted to punch him for that not even the older trainer would blame him. This Botan lady was basically searching for a team and let her Machamp do the scouting. Huh, that was definitely one of the more unique ways that he could've been asked to join. "A team up huh? Well, adventures are always better in groups." Not that he would know, he always travelled on his own. "Ferris Roe, photographer and trainer extraordinaire." He bowed in a very Galarian manner for his introduction, yet there was a confidence about it as if he was not being polite nor was he submissive. If Jarvis' senses were as good as he thought they were, then that Pokemon should have had a grasp of what kind of strength that laid beneath the surface of this trainer. Meanwhile, Fjord was being chased by a Rockruff and now he heard over the PA that they were going to be docking soon! The Meowth sprinted around the ship, ducking and weaving through people and Pokemon until he caught sight of his trainer up on the deck above so he made a mad dash towards him. "Mreow!" "Fjord? What's going...? Where did you get all that food?"</s>	<\|message\|>Felix Charron Felix Mentions: EVERYONE Location: M.S Marlow --- --- Venus might have celebrated a hair too early. Her victory could totally be taken from her, and she feared it was happening before her eyes. For, as the newcomers spoke... Felix wasn't one to get flustered all that easily, but he was already a little out of sorts, and now totally caught off guard. His face flushed ten different shades of scarlet in about two seconds before he finally snapped. "Wh-who the hell are you marrying me off to!? I only met her ten seconds before you did!" Felix shouted back at the presumptuous gaggle of strangers. So furiously flustered was he in general, he never even bothered to hone in on Ferris for his remark about Felix's height. "Ugh, I didn't even want to be here in the first place!" He took a sizeable step away from Botan and then crossed his arms while averting his eyes from everyone else. Venus's actual mouth hung open in dismay before she managed to gather her courage to approach her flustered trainer. Shorter than average or not, the poor mawile was even shorter, so the best she could do was cling to his leg while frantically patting his knee in vain in the hopes her presence would calm him down before he abandoned the group entirely...</s>
<\|description\|>Felix Charron Felix__________________________________________________ _________________________________________________ _________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ Age: 19 Gender: M Home Region: Kalos Appearance: Relatively short at around 5'5" and with a tendency to wear trendy clothes that are definitely style over function, as well as a fair bit of jewelry. (Honestly, just go by the picture... I suck at writing these parts.) Personality: He comes off as a solid mixture of aloof and abrasive. He's not terribly patient, either, so it's not hard to get him into a bad mood. He's not one to snap and start screaming at you, but it's not uncommon for him to fire off a few insensitive remarks if one ends up on his bad side. HIs somewhat antisocial behavior does not mean that he's shy, however. Far from it, and he's the farthest thing imaginable from a doormat. In normal conversation, when not otherwise incensed, he is typically polite if somewhat curt. There is also, as with many people, another side to him. A softer side that will come out without warning and at the most unexpected of times. He's not trying to hide it or anything, he just rarely has reason to show it. Blink and you'll miss it. Pokémon (1-2 mons) Name: Venus Species: Mawile Gender: F Ability: Sheer Force Moves: * Iron Defense * Crunch * Fire Fang * Thunder Punch * Iron Head * Baton Pass</s> <\|message\|>Fjord The photographer ignored the incomplete thoughts of Mr.'Survivalist,' mainly just to annoy him for not giving the satisfaction of paying attention to the blowhard. One thing he did not expect was to be scolded and boy did he not expect her to actually buy what this big mouth was saying though he took it in his stride. Besides, it was funnier to see how this dude would flounder about trying to maintain the lie. "You're right. I need to buy him dinner and then do him like that. Or I could take you out to dinner instead." Ferris chimed in brightly, never missing a beat even if it was more of a detriment to himself. As they followed the Machamp, Ferris' Ninetails did not give much thought to the little Zorua prancing around her ankles. Such things were beneath her though the Dark-Type certainly made for far better company than that little hellcat, Fjord; being admired for the majestic beauty that she was was quite satisfying, but that Machamp was a different story. If it were not for the fact that Ferris had ordered her not to start fights then that muscle butler would have been fish food. Up on the upper deck the trio met with the Machamps trainer, a pleasant, more energetic woman, and an ever unexcited young man that looked like he was rooting for the iceberg in Titanic or whatever Pokemon version existed in this world. While the red-head with the sunhat was quite oblivious to Felix's discontent, Arlo had caught the scent like a bloodhound and honed in on it with Ferris who followed up with,"Huh, I was thinking he was the butler. Isn't there a minimum height requirement for marriage?" If Felix wanted to punch him for that not even the older trainer would blame him. This Botan lady was basically searching for a team and let her Machamp do the scouting. Huh, that was definitely one of the more unique ways that he could've been asked to join. "A team up huh? Well, adventures are always better in groups." Not that he would know, he always travelled on his own. "Ferris Roe, photographer and trainer extraordinaire." He bowed in a very Galarian manner for his introduction, yet there was a confidence about it as if he was not being polite nor was he submissive. If Jarvis' senses were as good as he thought they were, then that Pokemon should have had a grasp of what kind of strength that laid beneath the surface of this trainer. Meanwhile, Fjord was being chased by a Rockruff and now he heard over the PA that they were going to be docking soon! The Meowth sprinted around the ship, ducking and weaving through people and Pokemon until he caught sight of his trainer up on the deck above so he made a mad dash towards him. "Mreow!" "Fjord? What's going...? Where did you get all that food?"</s> <\|message\|>Felix Charron Felix Mentions: EVERYONE Location: M.S Marlow --- --- Venus might have celebrated a hair too early. Her victory could totally be taken from her, and she feared it was happening before her eyes. For, as the newcomers spoke... Felix wasn't one to get flustered all that easily, but he was already a little out of sorts, and now totally caught off guard. His face flushed ten different shades of scarlet in about two seconds before he finally snapped. "Wh-who the hell are you marrying me off to!? I only met her ten seconds before you did!" Felix shouted back at the presumptuous gaggle of strangers. So furiously flustered was he in general, he never even bothered to hone in on Ferris for his remark about Felix's height. "Ugh, I didn't even want to be here in the first place!" He took a sizeable step away from Botan and then crossed his arms while averting his eyes from everyone else. Venus's actual mouth hung open in dismay before she managed to gather her courage to approach her flustered trainer. Shorter than average or not, the poor mawile was even shorter, so the best she could do was cling to his leg while frantically patting his knee in vain in the hopes her presence would calm him down before he abandoned the group entirely...</s> <\|message\|>Botan Naito \| ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ \| \| \| ✦ Botan Naito ✦ \| - \| --- At first things were going quite well. Excellent, even, although Felix didn't look quite as enthusiastic as his words would imply (he did say it was "great" and "exciting" after all). Botan's cheerful smile was in place while the three from the lower deck introduced themselves. She was especially excited once Isla and Ferris mentioned their occupations. An accomplished trainer and a photographer? Lovely, they'd have plenty of protection and some physical memories to share! Plus a professor? A real professor?! Botan's eyes were practically star-shaped. Isla probably knew all there was to know about Pokémon! Yes, everything was going splendidly. Until. At about the same time as Felix, Botan's face instantly resembled a tamato berry. The sudden heat blooming on her cheeks made it look like steam was coming from her ears too. "U-um, wait, we aren't..." The follow up comment from Ferris was kind of harsh too - not to mention the butlers of the Naito family would never dress like that. Botan's quieter corrections were drowned out but Felix's louder objections. She looked a little hurt when Felix stepped away from her, but tried to compose herself after a bit of nervous laughter. Sensing that she was becoming distressed, Jarvis stepped up behind Botan for support - and to fix all of the boys gathered with a look of warning. Only Isla was spared. "Well... s-sorry about the confusion," Botan said. She coughed into her fist to clear her throat. "Yes, he and I just met. We are all strangers... but not for long!" The shore of the island was in view, so if the lot of them were grouping up they would have to seal the deal now, lest any of them wanted to take their chances finding a group once already on land. With this in mind, Botan brought the smile back to her face, but if it was a little smaller than before the only one who'd be able to tell was herself. She wouldn't take 'no' for an answer! "I think we would all do well together," she said. Slowly she turned to Felix, giving him an apologetic look. "Which includes you. You don't really mean that, right...?" Botan glanced at the Mawile, hoping it could convince her trainer. Meanwhile a Pokémon came running up the stairs, followed by another and a young woman. Botan blinked in surprise. Maybe with his intrusion, the focus could shift away from Felix and he would reconsider? Botan didn't want to lose the person "she" recruited if possible.</s> <\|message\|>Isla Gavins 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒 𝔾𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕤 𝕃𝕠𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟: M.S Marlow - Upper Deck --- --- To Isla's dismay, things soured a bit in the group as the boys she'd brought up with her were not exactly the most tactful individuals. While Arlo was making assumptions, Ferris was taking jabs like he had back on the main deck. Seemed to be a normal part of his personality, and she personally wasn't feeling positive about it. Sunhat back atop her head, she crossed her arms at the building tension, shooting the two loudmouthed boys a short but obvious glare before turning her attention back towards Botan as she tried to fix the situation. Poor gal had to recover from the embarrassment first, and who could blame her? Isla knew she'd feel the same way if someone assumed something like that. Her mind wandered to the flirtatious reply photo-boy had offered before they made their way up here, and her face visibly scrunched. "Aye, can't help but think the same!" Isla responded to Botan's enthusiasm about them working well together, attempting to read the room, or, uh, the ship, and help get things on track. Noting her look towards Felix, Isla approached Botan at a slow pace, head turning to eye Jarvis for a moment since he seemed to be a little tense and she didn't want to offend the large Pokemon by coming closer to his trainer. Standing closer to her was more of a signal that she was more willing to group up, and generally agreed with her course of action. "I think we jus' need a little more decency an' manners." She added, eyeing Ferris in particular. Arlo jumped the gun with assumptions but at least he wasn't directly insulting this Felix lad. Or with how much the boy took offense, maybe it counted. Isla figured if he had a little maturity he could allow bygones to be bygones, but she doubted he'd be very motivated to do much of anything if more immature comments came his way. It was surprising to say the least when she saw a Galarian Meowth approaching the group in a bit of a hurry with some food. Judging by Ferris' reaction, she also assumed the little thing nabbed it from someone else with how much of a hurry it was in. But how this was handled was more up to the trainer than her; It'd help her get a bit of a better judging of his character before they hit land, which she was starting to feel was a necessity with the whole moment of awkwardness she had to just endure.</s>	<\|message\|>Felix Charron Felix Mentions: EVERYONE Location: M.S Marlow --- --- Why had he blown up like that? Felix wondered as he stood there, replaying the last few seconds over in his head. He was in a bad mood, he knew that much, but a simple misunderstanding shouldn't have gotten to him like that. No, but the other comments certainly had. Two barbs in one breath. OK, now he was just getting even angrier thinking about it. One could see it happen in real time. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, practically boiling over and seething with anger. His mawile's pupils shrank to pinpoints in trepidation. She could feel the rage vibrating through him and into her. However, no further outbursts followed. He pulled his hand away and opened his eyes again, though he didn't look exactly calm. If anything, he looked even madder than before. "I... have no problem being part of your group," he finally spoke, looking at Botan, the emphasis put on his words making his meaning clear. She hadn't done anything wrong. If anything, somehow he almost felt like the bad guy at this point. "But don't expect me to pose for any of his photos." Oh, he was sure he was here to photograph the island more than anything else, but that wasn't the point. Felix hadn't even said two words to the man before getting needled at. Ferris had put his worst possible foot forward and Felix wasn't going to forget it any time soon. As for Arlo and Isla? Arlo might've started this with his careless words, but... it wasn't much of a crime in hindsight. Isla was as innocent as Botan. Fine, just one bad apple he could deal with. With that settled, he simply focused on calming his nerves. He might have been blaming someone else, but he still knew his little tantrum wasn't a good look. Meanwhile, Venus finally let out a long sigh of relief and let go of her trainer's leg. Disaster averted... barely.</s>
<\|description\|>Gail 'Facestomper' Avery Infiltrator Personal Stats Age and Date of Birth: January 19 2070 Gender: Male Species: Supermutant — Mariposan strain, stealthboy affected physiology Profession: Odd job man Psychological History Motivations and Outlook (Personality): Avery is a nightkin leading to a specific set of traits in his personality. He still firmly believes in the master's vision of Unity where all men are united as mutants. Similarly, like all nightkin he has a serious case of schizophrenia. This crushes the demeanour of a once calm, and collected supermutant into becoming an anxious, irritable mess. Backstory: Gail was born just before the Great War, his parents bringing him to a vault where he was spared nuclear hellfire. He lived happily raising a famil of his own, but history would not let him escape a second disaster. When the Master's army formed, he was one of the many vault dwellers it kidnapped to subsequently dip in forced evolutionary virus. An intelligent man in his past life, he was also rather small and came out as such in comparison to other supermutants. Combined with losing much of his memory, he become a good servant of the master, and following many successful raids on foes of Unity he became a natural candidate for joining the ranks of nightkin. As time went on however, the Unity made powerful enemies in the Brotherhood of Steel and the proto-NCR. Coming into conflict with them, it eventually collapsed with the death of the Master. Gail followed the Gammorin army that formed out of the Master's army almost all the way until the Midwest, until fighting a raider band he got isolated for days whilst evading them, eventually left behind by the rest of the army. With that he went back West, there eventually finding home in Jacobstown with other supermutants. This however was not something he could sustain. He had far too much difficulty inhibiting his violence and getting along with much of the rest of the community despite them likewise being mutants. This prompted him to go further West yet again, to seek out the ruins of Mariposa. There he lived for some time, pondering his past. He was surprised to find at some point a human that did not shoot at him passing by, an event that gave him the confidence to eventually find a community where he offered to do physical labours in exchange for a small amount of food and caps. In spending short times with settlements that could be reasonable enough to not attempt to kill him on site Avery found that this way he could still find a sense of community that he missed with the collapse of the Master's army, whilst still not having the frustration that he so often had spending long periods of time around people following his nightkin schizophrenia being developed. Recently a more lucrative gig popped up, and when he surprisingly found that they were accepting of super-mutants he was glad to accept it. Flaws: The flaws of Avery can be summarized with the fact he is a nightkin. He has schizophrenia, is hated by much of the wasteland for simply existing, and he has pecuiliar views on the world that make cooperating with non mutated wastelanders very difficult. Relationships and Reputation: As all mutants, Avery doesn't have many positive relationships with people. Communities of all sorts ostracize him for his mere existence. At the same time, he struggles to get along with other people, including fellow mutants as his schizophrenia gets in the way. At the same time, he is marginally better off in dealing with humans as he has come to believe that though all humans should be dipped in FEV as per with wisdom of the Unity, they should be taught that this is a matter they should do voluntarily. As such, he has worked many jobs as a mercenary and odd job man in the North of the NCR and surrounding territories. Opinions on Team: (To be filled out whenever you feel like your character has enough information on fellow player characters.) Skills and Equipment Skills: As all nightkin, Avery's skills lie largely in sneaking, and violence. As a former elite of the Master's army he learned the basics of things like first aid, but only marginally more than the average wastelander. He can lockpick and do some basic hacking that has been needed to help get close to targets of assassination. Weapons: - Primary: Sniper rifle - Secondary: Nothing - Melee: A rebar club Armor/Clothes: Scraps of miscellanous clothing all sewn together to make a patchwork of many, many pockets to hold things, largely his great supply of stealth boys. For protection he relies on the natural improvements supermutants had over humans. Personal belongings: A book with notes on his past. Misc: (Anything you want to add that's not covered in the CS)</s> <\|message\|>Gail 'Facestomper' Avery F̝O͚̞̳̜̱͗̍̎̌R̠̰̩ͩͨͫ ͙̩̠̣͉̪T̈́̅ͩ̊ͧH̓̀̉E̹͈̺̱̬͑̋̐͗̓̏ͅ ̬͚̙̲ͬͪ͊ͪ̉̽M͉̥̟̖̪͉̃Ả̪͈͍͕͔̺̮̽̈́Ṣ̳̝̰͖̞̠ͩ̑͛T͍̬͒̿͒̂̉̋Ẻ̖̟̖̼̬̄̏R̰ ̪̱͔̹̱̣̬͌ͨ̏ ̭̼͉̙̳ͮF̦̜̗̼̬͒ͯͣ̚Ò̫͇̮͙͇̄ͭ̒̌̆ͭR͓͂̑̐ͭ ͙͙ͣ̐̇̒͆H̥͑ͮ́͐E̞̟̅̀̽̀ͭͧ͑ ͓̂̾W̙̻̍ͧ͗̌̽ͭ͒Hͪ̀͗̓O̟͇̳̣̫ͯͭ͑ͦ́̌̚ ͎̲͙̳͈͍͋ͅY͖̐̋E̐ͬ̌T̖̗̰̓ͬ͂͂ͅ ͬ̂̽͐͆L͉̖̯͇̱̝͖ͪ̀̊̉̎Ì̘̝̩̺̉͑̅ͤͫV̟͉̣̞̻̮̬͛͂ͬ͂̚E͓̻͈ͥ̿͆S̻̹͎̞ͥ̍̑ͬͦ̋ͮ Walking off from the carnage, Gail stopped by a small bush to wipe his hands of the blood. He turned his head a little to see someone shooting where he had been, poking his head up yet further to see it was the lady that for some reason thought she was the leader here. He would remember this of course. It had been others who had at first refused to do anything, and yet it seemed he was the one that was the recipient of ill-will. Not that this was particularly surprising to the Nightkin. Supermutants always were the recipients of inexplicable hatred, which in turn humans always expressed in the most peculiar of ways. Truly, they were a suffering people to live such short lives that they could not see the folly of their behaviour. Musing on such things he wandered off into the wilderness, forgetting the entirety of his night's adventures by the time he returned to the party in the morning. --- Gail returned to the camp just as the sun started to once more arise, picking out pieces of radroach from the end of his rebar club. He didn't exactly know how they ended up there, but he supposed the feeling of fullness he had probably had some accounting to do for it. Briefly he worried about food poisoning having likely eaten this meal uncooked, until he lucid part of his mind reminded the rest of it that such things were no longer the worry of his splendid form. The mutant soon after spotted himself in a reflection of dew upon leaves, prompting him to start obsessively picking out hairs upon his head that were too long, a trait acquired some decades after the obsessive stealth boy use. That very soon brought him to another activity, as the smell of falling hairs reminded him that he had acquired new smells to worsen his ability to move concealed. As such, he began bringing his fist down to grab handfuls of dust, rub it across himself, and repeat the cycle until he could hardly feel his own sent when bringing his elbow to his nose. The many humans started waking up just as Gail finished his rituals, and thus he wandered over a little closer to observe them. Most pecuiliar to him was the supermutant in the group. He had an obsession almost as nightkin, and yet he lacked the characteristic blue skin, invisibility. The robot briefly brought him a distant memory of his life as a human when he shifted his eyes to it, and thus the nightkin shook his head to distract himself from the matter. They packed up, and went on yet another walk. As always he traveled some distance from the group, making sure that there were no more bits of fauna that were hungry and would go after the little humans. Of course, he made sure every five minutes or so to run back to them, and make sure they had not fallen into some sort of infighting that would need a clobbering to resolve. Satisfied, this cycle would continue until at some point he heard Darya call out for him on one of his return trips. He took a few long strides to make sure he was in earshot when he replied to her, revealing himself with the characteristic vwumpsh of a stealth-boy turning off a meter or two behind her. "Yes. Wait here. Do you have a flare?" he requested, continuing with "Something for a signal of sorts if it is unsafe to stay here, and time to flee." Regardless of if he received such a means for a signal or not, he would once more activate his stealth boy and run off towards the town.</s> <\|message\|>Ahab @Randomness @Andreyich AHAB Western Oregon, I-5, Northern Frontier June 16th, 2284 Mid-Evening Ahab felt stupid not getting that Jack was joking, he surmised that she was not going to just let her teammates be brutalized by wolves while she slept. His attention focusing on the Alpha and the other wolves closing in on their position. "Stayeth closeth to me." Quickly using his body to protect Thomas from the incoming droves of wolves. One of the wolves biting and hanging onto his arm. Cursing under his breath, he used both of his hands to rip its jaw off. Changing out his sledgehammer to use his pistol firing at the wolves coming towards the human companions. There were multiple bites on his arms and legs, something he would need Dr. Benning to look at afterward. Trying to huddle Thomas, Jack, and Daya close towards himself, Dr. Benning, and Stanko. His attention turned back towards the Alpha, starting to shot the beast in the head. Watching the wolves howling in the air, the super mutant readied his weapon in case they plan to rush the group. However they escaped into the bushes, he wanted to chase after them but Daya would not want to lose him. "Doctor, I will need some medical assistance." addressing Benning while sticking himself with some stimpacks. His eyes peering over towards Gail who conveniently came back, he wanted to make some sort of snide comment but didn't want to anger the psychotic mutant. Quickly collecting his harpoons after he was patched up, walking with the group down the highway. Looking over towards the ruins of the town, a part of him was reminded of the town of Broken Hill. A sad look came onto his face but shaking off this feeling by speaking with Daya. "Misseth Daya, wouldst thee liketh me to assisteth Mr. Gail?"</s>	<\|message\|>Gail 'Facestomper' Avery F̝O͚̞̳̜̱͗̍̎̌R̠̰̩ͩͨͫ ͙̩̠̣͉̪T̈́̅ͩ̊ͧH̓̀̉E̹͈̺̱̬͑̋̐͗̓̏ͅ ̬͚̙̲ͬͪ͊ͪ̉̽M͉̥̟̖̪͉̃Ả̪͈͍͕͔̺̮̽̈́Ṣ̳̝̰͖̞̠ͩ̑͛T͍̬͒̿͒̂̉̋Ẻ̖̟̖̼̬̄̏R̰ ̪̱͔̹̱̣̬͌ͨ̏ ̭̼͉̙̳ͮF̦̜̗̼̬͒ͯͣ̚Ò̫͇̮͙͇̄ͭ̒̌̆ͭR͓͂̑̐ͭ ͙͙ͣ̐̇̒͆H̥͑ͮ́͐E̞̟̅̀̽̀ͭͧ͑ ͓̂̾W̙̻̍ͧ͗̌̽ͭ͒Hͪ̀͗̓O̟͇̳̣̫ͯͭ͑ͦ́̌̚ ͎̲͙̳͈͍͋ͅY͖̐̋E̐ͬ̌T̖̗̰̓ͬ͂͂ͅ ͬ̂̽͐͆L͉̖̯͇̱̝͖ͪ̀̊̉̎Ì̘̝̩̺̉͑̅ͤͫV̟͉̣̞̻̮̬͛͂ͬ͂̚E͓̻͈ͥ̿͆S̻̹͎̞ͥ̍̑ͬͦ̋ͮ After the woman shook her head, Gail shrugged, and ran off to the mystery city. A supermutant was far faster than a human being even when making sure to be keeping quiet, but it was still some distance to cover. Back in the day the Master's Army had used steam-trucks, ingenious retrofitted vehicles that had now gone out of use despite the amount that were even now still sitting there in the Necropolis. But now it was purely Gail's own burden to get there. Looking up, he noted a sign, Ashland. It was a shithole, despite the fact somebody had tried to decorate the place such that this fact would be hidden. Despite everything, he didn't see very many people, at least not from outside of the place. He hopped a few meters closer to a stone upon which he could stabilize his rifle and examined it. There was movement, but he would have to get a lot closer to inspect the place. He was almost about to run closer, until looking up into the sky he found that he had already been here some time. Thus he stood, and sprinted back. Somewhere around half of the journey's path he ignored stealth, kicking up a dust cloud with his great big mutant feet thus announcing his arrival to the team. Again he deactivated the stealthboy with the noise ever more common to the group. "Movement in City. Called Ashland. Looked... happy, but that's gone. Probably raiders, or wildlife in there."</s>
<\|description\|>The Ducal House ------------------------------- Duchessa Brunisente Scarcella di Castrolibero The Duchess is the one who technically holds the ruling title to the city. She was born into the position, where the Duke married into it. This means that the Duchess' blood will take priority when determining lineage. The Duchess herself is a kind woman, often referred to as benevolent. She cares for her subjects and hears all who wish to bring their issues to court. She was known to hold wilder parties than anyone else in her youth. Now, her age has caught up to her, and her knees aren't what they were. She has some low-level magical powers relating to judgement and justly ruling. ------------------------------- Duca Salicaro Scarcella di Castrolibero ------------------------------- NAME Scarcella di Castrolibero ------------------------------- Feri di Castroliebro All I wanna write here is that there is a bastard! This bastard was conceived by the Duchess after her and her husband attended an orgy. Usually bastards hold a very weak claim to heirdom. But. The Ducal couple has only borne one legitimate heir. The line of succession would go: the heir, the Duchess' sister, the Bastard. Nobody knows who the other parent is, and this may be a plot hook we can leverage. It's likely they were magical. ------------------------------- Nicola Veseli di Castrolibero Brunisente's personal servant. The two are very close, and grew up together. There's a bit of an unhealthy dynamic here which developed from a crossover of two things: the Countess' rank, and the Handmaid's tendency to come out of situations with a better deal than her friend. This extends from youthful courtships where the suitor would run off with the handmaid, all the way to more practical skills where the Handmaid showed much better general hand-eye co-ordination than Brunisente. All that being said, the two are as close as if they were sisters. They love one another nonetheless. ------------------------------- Lady Odette Scarcella di Castrolibero Odette is the sister of Brunisente. She is the head of the military Office in the Ducal court, and has always loved the thrill of the fight. Low-key an adrenaline junkie. She's second in line for the Ducal throne. She has a strong loyalty to her sister and no interest in ruling. She's a very positive personality, always chipper, and always looking on the bright side of situations. This doesn't mean she's one dimensional - she's known hardship, and she knows when a situation is sombre - she just tends on the positive side of things. Her leadership as general is well-respected, even among her detractors. The general skill and morale of Castrolibero's soldiers has increased by huge margins since she entered office. This is in large part due to her chipper attitude rubbing off onto her underlings as she trains personally with them.</s> <\|message\|>The Ducal House Ambience --- Catarina walked down the spiral staircase behind the loose bookshelf in her study. Her footsteps reverberated off the stones and down the staircase, heralding her descent. She took her time with the stairs. Each footstep was allowed its own room, space to breathe, time for the echoes to decay. Time for her prisoner to digest them. The stones in the stairwell were rough-cut and darkly coloured. A perfect fit for a secret chamber. The way was lit by a hand-held tallow candle, mounted on a little polished bronze dish. The wick had been soaked in oils to brighten the light it let off. Candles were cheaper and more efficient than an oil lamp, so Catarina saw no reason to not use one. In all fairness, it did reek like burnt animal fat, but small sacrifices must be made. The last step always let out the quietest echoes, somewhat anti-climatically. The room at the bottom was a secret study, with books and alchemical reagents cluttering shelves, ink-stained carpets lining the floor, and arcane tapestries lining the walls. A tall, three panel mirror features against one wall, partially obscured by purple velvet curtains. Keen eyes would spot that this mirror reflects nothing. Instead, it showed smokey white swirls which shift and change when one isn't looking at them. A writing desk occupied the opposing wall and a lectern stared over a large, circular portion of stone flooring. The lectern had shelves built into its column, which were filled with candlesticks and bowls. Catarina stepped into the chamber and turned to her left. There sat her long-time vexer. A subject of fascination and frustration, finally within her grasp. The rival, Aïtana Du'Vall, had been seated in and tied to a chair. The chair was made of a rich wood which matched the writing desk, and was well-cushioned. The ropes were thick cord, and tied well. "Are you... comfortable?" she asked in her low, slow drawl. "I am terribly sorry about this situation. But then again, it would have been different if you knew where that nose of yours isn't welcome." She turns and paces around the room, tending to the candles. "So. We both know I can't keep you here forever. Start talking. How - and why for that matter - did you come to be snooping through my shit?" A crack pierced the air as she slammed her hand against a nearby bookshelf, staring over into Aïtana's eyes, fury tearing at her eyes.</s> <\|message\|>Aïtana Du'Vall "Hehehehe...hahahah!" The woman was laughing as she saw the child run around her. But she was just a child herself. Not more than fourteen years. The kid was making her dizzy. He was running round and round and round as she spun her body to keep her focus on him, pretending to throw her claws out at him, growling and hissing. "Aïtana! Aïtana!", the boy yelled her way as his body jerked away from her dangerous claws. "Aïtana!!" Suddenly his voice changed. She sounded angry now. The meadow was gone, they stood in a small wooden room. A kitchen. The stove was on. The water was boiling over. "Aïtana!", the same scream came at her again. The boy's amber eyes glared at her with malicious intent, with hatred and anger deeper than his 9-year-old soul should have been able to carry. "ARGHHH!", he screamed. A high-pitched ringing hit her ear, at the same time something burning hot sliced over her face. She screamed. She could hear herself scream. "Aïtana! Aïtana!" The boy was crying now. He sat beside her on the floor and shook her arm with his two small hands. Big tears were running down his face. "I didn't mean it. Aïtana!" The boy blurred before her eyes. "Nikolai...", soft lips whispered from a clouded mind. "It's okay. I know. Nikolai...." Aïtana's eyes opened to a blurred intake of colors she couldn't place. Everything seemed gray... Her head felt heavy. She tried to pull her hand to her forehead but it was stuck. Aïtana let her head drop for a moment, her eyes closed. She felt sick to her stomach. When she reopened her eyes and forced her brain to process her surroundings, the blur slowly lifted. She didn't recognize where she was. It was some kind of dark cold room. The walls were made up of gray stone. She saw bookshelves. A single entrance, the door closed. She pulled on her arm again and this time it dawned on her that she wasn't simply stuck. She was tied up. Her mind began to understand that something had happened. Asess the situation, her logic commanded. She was tied up on her hands, her ankles and for good measure around her midsection. She could see. Her mouth was free, she could use her verbal magic. The stool she was positioned in seemed to be of simple wood. It stood close enough to the entrance. The door seemed to be made up of normal wood, it looked thick but at least it wasn't metal. She quickly took notice that she had no further belongings but her clothes on her body. Her eyes darted around the room. Books... so many books. A strange big stone circle stood on the opposite side of the room, opposite from the only exit she could make out. A desk. A cabinet. She would need to get out of the chair. The cabinet might hold something sharp enough to cut through the robes that tied her up. The desk might offer a letter opener. Not exactly a weapon but worth a try. Aïtana took a breath. Her head still felt heavy. She didn't exactly have a headache. It felt more like the aftermath of a painful night. She was exhausted. Her body desperately needed fluid. Her mouth felt dry. How long have I been out for? It was impossible to say what time of day it was as the room proved to offer no windows. Underground, was her first explanation. Aïtana almost yelped as the door flung open. Her eyes grew wide for just a second. Then her face was stone. She hoped the woman hadn't noticed. She thought she didn't. Before stood Catarina Loveti de Monte Scifo. The memory of sharp, unbearable pain all over her body resurfaced. The traitor began to talk to her. Aïtana would have loved nothing more than to knock her unconscious and throw her into the darkest cell they could find to leave her there to rot. Her suspicions had been proven right. If not before, then now beyond any doubt. Her captor began to light up the rooms with candles. A loud crack almost made Aïtana jump. But she had felt the show of power, the attempt to scare her coming. Her heart might have jumped but her body had not flinched. She wanted her to talk? Aïtana gathered some strength and spit right in front of Catarina. Her eyes darted back into those furious orbs.</s>	<\|message\|>The Ducal House Catarina's anger dripped away from her face, almost becoming kind when Aïtana stared back. But she never broke her gaze. Never stopped analyzing and studying. The other woman's face was cold and inexpressive, but things were never that simple. In the same position, Catarina would hide her own emotions. She would be a fool to assume Aïtana wouldn't. The spitting told her everything she needed to know. Disdain, frustration, defiance, and hatred. Meeting this with more hate could never help. Cata was the one to break the gaze when she paced over to the cabinet in the far corner. She placed the candle on a small raised slab and opened the cabinet door. Strange glass and marble apparatus filled the shelves, placed in tidy and organised rows. Rags were folded and stacked on the bottom shelf. Catarina lifted one from the stack. She walked over to where the spit had soiled her carpet, and crouched down to clean it. "This was expensive, you know," she said. "I wouldn't do that again if I were you." She stood and began toying with the rag before leaning against a nearby shelf, eyes looking her captive up and down. Her nails tapped on the spine of a wood-bound book. "Aïtana, darling, look. To be frank, I don't like imprisoning people. It's disgusting, honestly. I don't want to have you as my prisoner any more than you want to be my prisoner..." she trailed off. The tapping stopped. "So believe me when I say that I only want to know how you came to be here so I can avoid having to do this to others. It's just damage control, see?" Cata closed her eyes for a few seconds and let out a long, defeated sigh. She slid the wooden book off the shelf and clutched it against her. Iron clasps held it shut, and strange shapes were burned into the back cover. "I suppose if today is to be a day for honesty between us, then I should take the lead... I do admire you. You have strong morals, which I would genuinely love to hear about some time." Her eyes found Aïtana's as she lowered herself to the floor to sit down. They were playful and full of interest. "Maybe after I've got you situated in a more appropriate cell. It's being outfitted to hold a guest of your esteem at the moment. It should be ready by tomorrow. But, I digress. You must have left traces, and so many people are wont to follow such clues. If they do, then they'll just wind up here, like you. You don't really want to get anyone else captured, do you?"</s>
<\|description\|>The Ducal House ------------------------------- Duchessa Brunisente Scarcella di Castrolibero The Duchess is the one who technically holds the ruling title to the city. She was born into the position, where the Duke married into it. This means that the Duchess' blood will take priority when determining lineage. The Duchess herself is a kind woman, often referred to as benevolent. She cares for her subjects and hears all who wish to bring their issues to court. She was known to hold wilder parties than anyone else in her youth. Now, her age has caught up to her, and her knees aren't what they were. She has some low-level magical powers relating to judgement and justly ruling. ------------------------------- Duca Salicaro Scarcella di Castrolibero ------------------------------- NAME Scarcella di Castrolibero ------------------------------- Feri di Castroliebro All I wanna write here is that there is a bastard! This bastard was conceived by the Duchess after her and her husband attended an orgy. Usually bastards hold a very weak claim to heirdom. But. The Ducal couple has only borne one legitimate heir. The line of succession would go: the heir, the Duchess' sister, the Bastard. Nobody knows who the other parent is, and this may be a plot hook we can leverage. It's likely they were magical. ------------------------------- Nicola Veseli di Castrolibero Brunisente's personal servant. The two are very close, and grew up together. There's a bit of an unhealthy dynamic here which developed from a crossover of two things: the Countess' rank, and the Handmaid's tendency to come out of situations with a better deal than her friend. This extends from youthful courtships where the suitor would run off with the handmaid, all the way to more practical skills where the Handmaid showed much better general hand-eye co-ordination than Brunisente. All that being said, the two are as close as if they were sisters. They love one another nonetheless. ------------------------------- Lady Odette Scarcella di Castrolibero Odette is the sister of Brunisente. She is the head of the military Office in the Ducal court, and has always loved the thrill of the fight. Low-key an adrenaline junkie. She's second in line for the Ducal throne. She has a strong loyalty to her sister and no interest in ruling. She's a very positive personality, always chipper, and always looking on the bright side of situations. This doesn't mean she's one dimensional - she's known hardship, and she knows when a situation is sombre - she just tends on the positive side of things. Her leadership as general is well-respected, even among her detractors. The general skill and morale of Castrolibero's soldiers has increased by huge margins since she entered office. This is in large part due to her chipper attitude rubbing off onto her underlings as she trains personally with them.</s> <\|message\|>The Ducal House A grin spread over Catarina's face, only widening further as Aïtana continued her tirade. The last few sentences sent her into a shaking, cackling fit. It took her a moment to fully recover. Her next words were spoken through deep breaths and more than a few giggles. "I... Oh, aren't you something. I knew you were a principled woman, but I never knew you had such wit. It certainly hasn't shown in court before. Usually you're such... She paused to stand, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye. "Well, usually you're such a bore." She slid the book back onto the shelf and began to make her way behind the chair, caressing Aïtana's cheek on the way around. It was warm to her touch. Excellent. Her hand slipped just below the ear and she pressed slightly. A fast pulse. Even better. Catarina smirked as she thought of just how easy Aïtana would be to piss off. People with tempers were always her favourites. They were so rewarding. Lowering herself to her knees, Catarina placed her chin on Aïtana's shoulder, reaching around the other side of her neck with an arm. "Oh, I truly am sorry darling. I did not mean to upset you. But, um... how to say?" she said. She took a moment to make a show of considering her next words, hand grazing her cheek. "But we are not equals. Not really. Think about it: if we were equal, how could I do this?" Her hand slipped away, words hanging in the air for a moment, wafting around Aïtana's head like a threatening, musky perfume. All the better to allow her captive's mind to race. This was the fun bit. Her hand gripped the back of the chair. She pivoted on her knee. Yanked down with one arm, unbalancing the chair and driving it into the ground. She sat back onto her knees. Her eyes sparkled with a smug smile as she looked down at her captive and placed her hands in her lap. "Aïtana darling... this is not an act. I don't know how else to break the news to you, but I'm not whatever exaggerated caricature you've constructed of me. Although... you got one thing right. I am fond of novels. One runs out of treatises and philosophical dialogues, as I'm sure you know. But then again, you do seem to read only Varka, so I could be wrong." Catarina turned and began surveying her bookshelves. "Here -" she said, pointing at a thick, red leather bound book. "I can recommend this one! A thrilling romance between a poet and a painter, written with a lovely impressionist influence. I know the man who wrote it, as a matter of fact. He signed it for me." Aïtana would be a difficult one. Cata had always known her to be headstrong. Most start showing signs of beginning to crack by now, but this resistance and refusal to engage would make things difficult. That just meant it'd be fun though, right? They all crack under enough pressure. And diversion of the pressure just meant she had to apply it elsewhere. Catarina let out a low giggle. "Oh again! I keep digressing. You are good at getting me off topic, darling. But anyway. The world is so much more complicated than you think it. Yes, I have done regrettable things. Everyone has, after all. But that hardly means I am a monster," she said. Her next words were to be a gamble. If there was anyone who hadn't faltered in their morals, it was Aïtana. But she was confident, and right or wrong, she would learn something. "And likewise, you've made some commendable choices, but you are no perfect being. You've made some horrible decisions in the past, no? Does that make you a monster?"</s> <\|message\|>Aïtana Du'Vall Would you believe that? That maniac was laughing. But of course! If someone had something to laugh about in this situation, Aïtana would assume it'd be Catarina. Her facial expression slipped into one that clearly read 'you serious?' but would not offer the belief that she'd be phased much by it. Throw at me what you like. As much Aïtana had wanted for Catarina to just slap her, scream at her, threaten her with torture and get the cruel waiting phase over with, the woman was smarter than to think she could crack Aïtana with such standard villainous behavior. Instead, Catarina indulged herself in mimicking Aïtana's way of conversation. She stayed calm, slightly amused. She threw jabs at her, called her boring, tried to insult her with meaningless words. Catarina played the game Aïtana had raised between them. She could recognize and respect that. Catarina let Aïtana decide how to go about it, in this moment at least, and gave her that bit of control. She was smart. She showed Aïtana just how helpless her situation was. Not by force and not by threads. By flirtation. If Catarina wanted to call her darling, so be it. It boiled Aïtana's blood a little but she was far from letting that affect her. The first anger rose and then lifted as she cleared her head. It's just a word and it has no meaning in her mouth. She means to take a rise out of me. She thinks she found something that pokes at me and so she uses it to show her dominance. Pathetic, but fits her style just fine. As Catarina walked behind her and touched her scarred cheek, Aïtana's head drove to the side a small fraction. It was the automatic response of her body. The wall that screamed DO NOT TOUCH. However tiny and miniature her movement had been, she knew immediately that Catarina had noticed it. You didn't go to play such a game of touch to then miss the one reaction you were looking for. Aïtana could scream at herself for that failure. With Catarina's arm around her neck and her chin on her shoulder, it took a lot within Aïtana to not move away as much as possible. She equally waited and feared for that moment that their cheeks would brush and she would be forced to feel Catarina's skin against her scarred one. But the moment didn't come. Instead, Catarina made a show of running her hand over the same spot again. This time Aïtana didn't flinch. But she felt the familiar acid in her stomach crawling up her throat. That swirling sensation inside her belly that made her feel like throwing up. The world tipped and with a way too soft thud Aïtana landed with her back to the floor. "Uff!" The coalition tensed up her back muscles and she felt how the back of the chair dug into her bones and skin uncomfortably. She would have muscle pain for days after this. The fancy carpet helped. Her first bitter thought was to spit on the carpet again. But that would make her seem childish and unresourceful. It'd be a little 'fuck you' but nothing more. So Aïtana looked Catarina into the eyes with apathy as she continued to romance her with words. The assumption on Catarina's part about Aïtana's reading happens amused her but she would not let a stray comment like that reveal any emotions on her face. And she would certainly not counterbalance Catarina to her liking. This weak attempt to gain information on her, however small, would not rouse Aïtana to share a single word. And what was this bit about books? Way to redirect a conversation. Was she supposed to be impressed? Did little Catarina want a pet on the head for having a signed edition of some romance novel? How ridiculous. Catarina's words finally found their end with a question. One that could've meant to challenge Aïtana. But it was to no avail. "Is this villain's tactics 101? Is this the beginning of a corruption arc or are you trying to get me to save you - you know, deep deep inside?" She let the words sit for a moment, unsure why sarcasm was still her go-to. Catarina would just feast on it. "You and I are alike. We are alike in the sense that we both choose our actions ourselves and are to blame for them. But those actions surely look different. I never called you a monster, Catarina. Monsters are tale-bound mystical creatures that come out after dark. You're just a human. You're responsible for your actions." If she was looking for a heart-to-heart about the painful mistakes in Aïtana's past, she was bound to wait for eternity.</s>	<\|message\|>The Ducal House That apathy in Aïtana's eyes made Catarina smirk. She had played this game before. She knew people with a will this strong could never break this early. It was a fake apathy, one constructed to throw her off, to make her think she's breaking no ground. Delicious. She'd seen many like this in the past. Both within Castrolibero and without. There was a shimmer of defiance in the ones who hadn't truly broken. Oh how lovely to watch it turn. She swept a strand of hair from her face and looked down her nose into Aïtana's eyes. "Miss Du'Vall... darling, no... you know better than this, surely?" she drawled, mocking the other woman with everything, all the way down to the rhythm of her words. "Or... maybe not? Okay, let me explain. Sometimes when you say certain things, like say... I recommend taking a long look into the mirror. You might throw up from the very view you find in it or... just to blame it on me once you start your torture, I'd suggest you cut to the act, it implies certain things. That means you might not say it, but the words still carry the meaning! Exciting, right? For example, those words imply that you think of me as a monster." Throughout the entire explanation she kept a mockingly sincere expression on her face, complete with a furrowed brow and pouty lips. She put deliberate effort into mocking Aïtana's tone while she was quoting her. Unwilling to stop there, she continued, saying "Another example might be that this entire time I have been implying that you're a fucking idiot. Didn't you pick up on that, darling?" Her mouth split into a wide smile, lighting up her eyes. This really was too easy. She briefly reconsidered picking on such low-hanging fruit. Surely it couldn't be this easy? But... no. Instead, she giggled a low and flirtatious giggle. "Oh you're too much fun darling. Maybe I will let you one day. You know, let you uhh... 'save' me - deep, deep inside," she booped Aïtana on the nose and winked, "Maybe." With a swirl and a swish, Catarina stood. She walked behind the chair once more, this time lifting it back up so Aïtana was once again seated properly. Guests should never be made to feel uncomfortable. The chair creaked as it pivoted. A long, high whine. A thud as it connected with the carpet. Cata circled around to position herself in front of Aïtana. She crouched slightly, coming down to eye level with her captive. "But after all this you say I'm responsible for my actions? Go on then. Hold me responsible, and I'll hold you responsible," she said, slowly, deliberately. Dangerously. "I won't if you won't, darling." She winked.</s>
<\|description\|>The Ducal House ------------------------------- Duchessa Brunisente Scarcella di Castrolibero The Duchess is the one who technically holds the ruling title to the city. She was born into the position, where the Duke married into it. This means that the Duchess' blood will take priority when determining lineage. The Duchess herself is a kind woman, often referred to as benevolent. She cares for her subjects and hears all who wish to bring their issues to court. She was known to hold wilder parties than anyone else in her youth. Now, her age has caught up to her, and her knees aren't what they were. She has some low-level magical powers relating to judgement and justly ruling. ------------------------------- Duca Salicaro Scarcella di Castrolibero ------------------------------- NAME Scarcella di Castrolibero ------------------------------- Feri di Castroliebro All I wanna write here is that there is a bastard! This bastard was conceived by the Duchess after her and her husband attended an orgy. Usually bastards hold a very weak claim to heirdom. But. The Ducal couple has only borne one legitimate heir. The line of succession would go: the heir, the Duchess' sister, the Bastard. Nobody knows who the other parent is, and this may be a plot hook we can leverage. It's likely they were magical. ------------------------------- Nicola Veseli di Castrolibero Brunisente's personal servant. The two are very close, and grew up together. There's a bit of an unhealthy dynamic here which developed from a crossover of two things: the Countess' rank, and the Handmaid's tendency to come out of situations with a better deal than her friend. This extends from youthful courtships where the suitor would run off with the handmaid, all the way to more practical skills where the Handmaid showed much better general hand-eye co-ordination than Brunisente. All that being said, the two are as close as if they were sisters. They love one another nonetheless. ------------------------------- Lady Odette Scarcella di Castrolibero Odette is the sister of Brunisente. She is the head of the military Office in the Ducal court, and has always loved the thrill of the fight. Low-key an adrenaline junkie. She's second in line for the Ducal throne. She has a strong loyalty to her sister and no interest in ruling. She's a very positive personality, always chipper, and always looking on the bright side of situations. This doesn't mean she's one dimensional - she's known hardship, and she knows when a situation is sombre - she just tends on the positive side of things. Her leadership as general is well-respected, even among her detractors. The general skill and morale of Castrolibero's soldiers has increased by huge margins since she entered office. This is in large part due to her chipper attitude rubbing off onto her underlings as she trains personally with them.</s> <\|message\|>The Ducal House Catarina's shoulders slumped and her eyes rolled miles. Her face soured into a scowl, and she crossed her arms and stood upright. "Ugh, you take yourself far too seriously. Lighten up, sheesh. Maybe I was right about you being dull," she sighed, voice full of exasperation. The facade slipped a little here and her face betrayed genuine emotion. Her eyes gleamed more than usual, her shoulders were tense, her intonation a little too disappointed. Almost as fast as the emotion showed, she pivoted away, hiding it. "You have no sense of fun. You really should let loose. We can agree on two things though," she said, turning to look Aïtana in the eyes, "One: I'm not a monster, and two: you should stop wasting your breath." She paced back to Aïtana. How to do this? A million possibilities flashed through her mind. In the end, her eyes settled on the scar on Aïtana's cheek. Her hand reached up, hovering, teasing. She could feel the warmth of her cheek. Pure magic flowed into Cata's fingertips, setting off wild tingles and spreading nervous static. With less than the brush of a fingertip, Catarina released the magic to tear at the nerves in Aïtana's head, overloading her with pain. Forcing her to pass out. --- Next Morning The new cell had been finished on time, much to Catarina's relief. The particularly weak-willed bound servants had been ordered to refurnish the once cruel chamber into something more hospitable. After all, cruelty and torture is what's expected, and breaking people requires subverting expectations. The cell had been transformed into a comfortable study. Several heavy wood bookshelves sat by a lectern, packed full of books by famous philosophers. Discerning viewers would recognise several names among them - Markus Jakober, Renfry Bucholtz, and Estibaliz Gizikis to name a few. Well-read viewers would understand that all of these thinkers were known for their advocacy of decentralised government and rejection of current ideas in the field of ethics. The lectern nursed the most interesting book of all - a red leather bound volume which bore a signature on the flyleaf. A comfortable feather bed with strong wooden posts sat beside another wall. The candlelight shimmered off the fabric of the silken sheets, interrupted only by Aïtana, who was laid out on top. A dark wooden table stood regally in the center of the cell, attended by two chairs and a candlestick. There were no shackles or chains. No cruel iron spikes. In fact, the only indication that this was a cell at all was the row of steel bars thick enough to mock the very idea of escape looming in the center of the room. Cata was quite proud of the whole assembly, if she did say so herself.</s> <\|message\|>Aïtana Du'Vall Aïtana kept her eyes closed when she awoke the next morning. Her back muscles felt tense and painful but the softness of the blanket around her body and the wonderful feeling of her head on a pillow embraced her with kindness. She didn't want to awaken her sleepy brain to whatever reality would throw at her today. She would need to get dressed soon she reckoned. A pain in her cheek made her groan. It was more so a memory than actual physical pain. The body reminded her of something she was trying to not remember. But Aïtana was unable to hold her thoughts from coming back to her. "No, no", she whispered into the pillow. Wetness grazed the corner of her mouth. She must have drooled in her sleep. "Urgh, no. Okay... I'm ready." With a defeated sigh she sat up and let her brain introduce her to the roughness of the morning. She took a breath and slowly opened her eyes, revealing.... "What?", the woman softly wondered. There were bars that kept her locked inside her cell. But other than that... This wasn't what she had expected. Her hand stroked over the soft duvet of her bed. It felt expensive. It felt like someone had deliberately chosen exactly this material. The room was stacked with shelves and within the shelves books. Candlelight hugged the cell into a dim and romantic embrace. Some of the candles had burnt down entirely. They must have been on all night.... Or they were old candles. But with someone like Catarina as her host, she doubted it. There was a wooden table with chairs that looked oddly inviting. At the sight, Aïtana's stomach sprung to life and growled desperately. Aïtana scooted her butt to the edge of the bed and touched the floor with her bare feet. The rug greeted her toes with the decent feeling of a very ordinary rug. Bare feet... She attempted to wrap her head around the fact that all she was wearing was her undergarments. To be fair, it covered her nicely still. She had some more showing lingerie but found those impractical. So her go-to were tight underpants and a tight top that would allow her to move freely without her chest hindering her. [(basically sports underwear like this but in all white and a bit less modern cause we're not in a setting where we wear modern clothes)] Aïtana let her eyes wander around. Catarina had surprised her after all. After their conversation last night she had not hoped for much more than the typical villain's lair. She found her clothes were neatly stacked on the table with her boots standing by the side of it. She rose from the bed and made her way over to the table. The candle on top of it had only burned down halfway. It was a white ordinary-looking candle. But Aïtana recognized it anyway. It was the same candles she always bought for her study. All the long nights spent with her head in a book or above various parchments, she had found that these candles provided the best quality. They lasted her for days. But she never burnt them down in one go. In her study, she would often sit and read and write for five hours with no interruption. Within five hours, the candle would be burnt down by approximately one-fifteenth of its original size. It would be hard to measure time with such a long-lasting candle. Aïtana sat down on one of the chairs, grabbed the burning candle, and began to etched small indicators into the wax with her fingernail. It wasn't a foolproof technique and it would be hard to read. Considering that her measurements were likely inaccurate anyway, she could be glad if this was even helping her a bit. No windows, no time measurement. But candles work well, just gotta keep my eye on them. She put the candle back where it belonged. Her stomach made another growling noise. When had she last eaten? Being knocked out twice by an insufferable amount of pain had cost her body a lot of energy. But at least she could be certain now. The pain she had felt had definitely been Catarina's work. And by work, she meant her magic. Did the ducal couple know about this cruel ability of hers? Why would they let someone who practices illegal magic into their inner circles?. However unpleasant her encounter with Catarina's ability had been, she had revealed a part of her hand. Aïtana now knew of this little trick of hers and could prepare herself for it. She had an advantage for as long as she knew more about her captor than Catarina did about her captive. Why do I have a feeling that won't last long. Aïtana leaned forward and reached for her clothes. The sound of keys in a keyhole made her look up and stop in her motion. Then the door beyond the bars began to open slowly.</s>	<\|message\|>The Ducal House In a mirror image of Aïtana, Catarina woke peacefully in her own bed. She was relaxed, spread-eagle across the bed, her mind at ease. Her eyes slid open, pupils shrinking and shying from the first grey sunlight that crept in from an open window. She laid there for a minute. Curling herself into the blankets to appreciate the warmth. The world was waiting. More specifically, Aïtana was waiting. Catarina's thoughts drifted over to her captive. She'd proven difficult last night. Unexpectedly so. With her constant pressing into her deflections. But then again - had it ever been any different in court? Of course not. People never change in one night, Cata. She got under your skin. Don't let it get to you. The affirmation rung in her head as she slowly hoisted herself up and out of bed. Her bare legs dangled from the bed and grazed the floorboards. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and scratched the life out of her scalp. It was improper etiquette, but, as she was wont to say: fuck the ettiquitte. She slept in the nude. It was comfier. The blankets felt comforting against her skin and her body heat got around more quickly. Her thoughts slid back to Aïta- No. Deal with that later. Go get dressed. She got up, and donned a long dress made of rich purple material, high top wedge-heeled boots, an amethyst-jeweled silver hairpin, and a short black cloak. Nothing fancy - not by her standards - but enough that looking in the mirror gave her a surge of confidence. So much for throwing up, she thought with a giggle. She made her way out of her bedroom and onto the mezzanine level in the main room. On the mezzanine level there were books and documents and files lining every available surface, seemingly meticulously ordered despite the sheer quantity of them. A shelf full to the brim of various inks, quills, waxes, penknives, and parchments, was positioned behind a polished wooden desk. On the floor below, there were the other general amenities one might need in a household, such as a kitchen, dining area, and a small fireplace. Several smaller bookshelves were built into the walls on this floor, and a cellar entrance sat in one corner. Catarina collected her mail from the front door and sat in her dining area to read them. Such began a short morning of chores. Cleaning, cooking, reading, writing. She preferred not to keep servants due to their tendency to get curious. Soon, all that was left to tend to was her prisoner. She gathered some bread and cheese in a cloth bag and made her way downstairs through the secret door behind the false bookshelf. Soon enough, she was unlocking the door and walking in. Only to see Aïtana in her underclothes for the second time that week. She raised one eyebrow and smirked a little. Her eyes may have wandered for a second, or maybe she was just amused that Aïtana still hadn't got dressed. "Good morning Aïtana. For all you vex me, I must say you have a delightfully comfortable taste in underwear! Where might I find some? Help a lady ou-" an abrupt stop as Aïtana flushed red. Catarina giggled a slow, low giggle. She began to talk again, her tone light, playful, and dismissive. "Oh darling don't worry about me, there's no need to be embarrassed. There's nothing you have that I don't. Besides, I saw the same last night I am seeing now. I took your clothes and washed them - they should stink less now." The door clicked shut behind her, and she placed the key on a table to her right. She rubbed her forehead. "You're confused about the lodgings, no? You expected a dungeon with chains and rusty bars?" she inquired, raising her eyebrows. She spread her arms wide. "I like to keep my guests comfortable. Pay it no mind. I've put the book I recommended last night over there-" she gestured to the lectern, "It's really quite nice, you should read it if you find the ti- wait. You have all the time in the world! How I envy you, Aïtana." She paced over to the cell bars and raised the small bag of food. "I've had a long morning of writing and need a break. Join me for breakfast?" She pulled out the bag's contents and sat on the floor, laying the bag out as a small picnic cloth and placing the food atop it. She picked up a loaf of bread, sliced it, and spread some cheese on it, passing it to Aïtana through the bars. "Oh, and... please, for the love of all that is good, lighten up this morning. I am in the mood for jest and if you're anything like you were last night, you're going to ruin that."</s>
<\|description\|>The Ducal House ------------------------------- Duchessa Brunisente Scarcella di Castrolibero The Duchess is the one who technically holds the ruling title to the city. She was born into the position, where the Duke married into it. This means that the Duchess' blood will take priority when determining lineage. The Duchess herself is a kind woman, often referred to as benevolent. She cares for her subjects and hears all who wish to bring their issues to court. She was known to hold wilder parties than anyone else in her youth. Now, her age has caught up to her, and her knees aren't what they were. She has some low-level magical powers relating to judgement and justly ruling. ------------------------------- Duca Salicaro Scarcella di Castrolibero ------------------------------- NAME Scarcella di Castrolibero ------------------------------- Feri di Castroliebro All I wanna write here is that there is a bastard! This bastard was conceived by the Duchess after her and her husband attended an orgy. Usually bastards hold a very weak claim to heirdom. But. The Ducal couple has only borne one legitimate heir. The line of succession would go: the heir, the Duchess' sister, the Bastard. Nobody knows who the other parent is, and this may be a plot hook we can leverage. It's likely they were magical. ------------------------------- Nicola Veseli di Castrolibero Brunisente's personal servant. The two are very close, and grew up together. There's a bit of an unhealthy dynamic here which developed from a crossover of two things: the Countess' rank, and the Handmaid's tendency to come out of situations with a better deal than her friend. This extends from youthful courtships where the suitor would run off with the handmaid, all the way to more practical skills where the Handmaid showed much better general hand-eye co-ordination than Brunisente. All that being said, the two are as close as if they were sisters. They love one another nonetheless. ------------------------------- Lady Odette Scarcella di Castrolibero Odette is the sister of Brunisente. She is the head of the military Office in the Ducal court, and has always loved the thrill of the fight. Low-key an adrenaline junkie. She's second in line for the Ducal throne. She has a strong loyalty to her sister and no interest in ruling. She's a very positive personality, always chipper, and always looking on the bright side of situations. This doesn't mean she's one dimensional - she's known hardship, and she knows when a situation is sombre - she just tends on the positive side of things. Her leadership as general is well-respected, even among her detractors. The general skill and morale of Castrolibero's soldiers has increased by huge margins since she entered office. This is in large part due to her chipper attitude rubbing off onto her underlings as she trains personally with them.</s> <\|message\|>The Ducal House Catarina's eyebrows rose ever so slightly at Aïtana's offer to give her the address of the lingerie shop. Genuine surprise was not something she felt often. She blinked a few times, furrowed her brow slightly. Then, from her seat on the ground, she looked up at Aïtana and spoke. Her voice was softer than Aïtana had heard it before. "Yes, actually. I would love the address. Hold on, let me-" she patted down her dress, hoping to find some long-lost slip of paper. Nothing."It seems I don't have anything to write it on, and I am sure I'll forget if you just tell me... Would you do me a favour? I've put some parchment in the top drawer in your lectern over there. There should be ink and pens in the drawer below it. Be a dear and pass them through so I can write the address down." While Aïtana next spoke, Catarina sliced more bread. She spread a healthy portion of cheese on it and slowly brought it towards her mouth, but forgot to take a bite. Regardless, the bread lingered. Yet again, her brows furrowed. Her lips parted a little and she tapped on the bread crust. Aïtana was certainly giving her a lot to think about. In time, through a fog of thought, she spoke. "I think... yes. You are right. Be... as angry as you will. After all, if this situation were reversed..." she trailed off, snapping out of her thoughts and looking Aïtana up and down. Her captive would surely notice that she was studying her face and body language, drinking in the detail and swirling it around her brain like a fine wine. "I would definitely be a lot more aggressive than you are being now. I suppose it's a luxury for me. Not wanting to hurt you, I mean." Catarina took a small and disinterested bite from the bread. She chewed slowly, eyes staring down into the loaf. Somewhere deep down, for a short moment, she allowed herself to feel satisfaction. Aïtana was noticably less wilful today. Maybe from the previous night, maybe from the repetitive pain, and maybe from Cata's actions. Maybe even for an internal reason. It would have been nice to know which of these it was, but that was not knowledge she was privy to. Whichever way, she had something to work with now. She had leverage. These suggestions of Aïtana's... they told Catarina what she wanted, far beyond the obvious "escape" and "justice". Whatever value that held. They gave an inkling as to what she thought she could gain. Respect. Was this about to become easier? She swallowed her mouthful. Only one way to find out. "I think I should start showing you respect, Aïtana. I acknowledge that I have been less than kind so far, and honestly I have no interest in continuing that. The only issue is... well I don't really know how you would want me to show that. As someone who's more experienced in this than I... how would you do it? And... as someone who's in a less advantageous situation, how could I show you?" She cleared her throat. Short, sharp, polite. "How could I show respect in such a position, I mean... Having you in a cage and all. I obviously cannot let you out, that would destroy me. Even though that's clearly what you want," she said, looking Aïtana in the eyes, pouring earnestness into her voice. Her own eyes glittered with emotion. Maybe she was laying it on a bit thick. But then again, maybe it was just enough. What Catarina found odd was that some of this was genuine. She wasn't saying this just to manipulate - there was some drowned and long-dead emotion below it. Did she really- Let's not think about that right now. She stood. The old iron key rested heavy in one palm, the light and cheesy bread in the other. Her eyes rested on the second chair at the table. Maybe that quick glance, the appearance of a subconscious acknowledgement, would be enough to get Aïtana to wonder why it was there. Even if only briefly, the seeds could be sown. But now Aïtana spoke of the book. Perfect! Catarina's face lit up with a smirk. Her previous playful demeanour edged its way back onto her face as she looked at Aïtana under hooded eyes. "Well now, you wouldn't want me to spoil the story for you, would you darling? That would take the fun out of it. Wouldn't want you to miss out on the surprises. Though... I could give you a synopsis if you like. Only if you want to hear, of course. I would loathe to bore..."</s> <\|message\|>Aïtana Du'Vall As Catarina spoke, Aïtana kept her gaze on her food, only looking up at her at times. But she was fully aware of every movement, every twitch with the eye her captor was taking. Even if just from the corner of her eye, Aïtana was watching her. She didn't feel tense or stressed. She felt more curious. And she was hungry. So she focused on her food and tried to listen to Catarina without her emotions getting in the way for once. As much as Catarina's surprise eased Aïtana's mind just a little more - she had managed to surprise Catarina, to break through her masks for a moment -, she was soon to be the one to show surprise as Catarina actually took her up on her offer and asked for the address of her lingerie shop. Aïtana lowered her bread to the table and looked at Catarina with confusion on her face for a moment before she got up. "Of course." She moved through the room. Once she found the items, she took it upon herself to write down the address. With a couple of steps, she stood in front of the bars that made her room a prison. She folded the paper once, lowered herself down to Catarina's level, and slid the paper through the bars for her to take. After, she returned to her seat at the table and continued her meal as if nothing had happened. But something had changed. Strange... How one simple exchange can shift something. She wasn't gonna let a little moment like that make her forget how she was still imprisoned, how Catarina had knocked her out with her pain spell before and could do it again anytime she felt Aïtana was being too unpleasant. But Catarina wasn't done surprising her. She had actually... listened? Aïtana was slowly running out of food. She had been eating a fraction too fast and she needed to slow down before her hands would be left empty. Catarina had just acknowledged what Aïtana had explained. She had admitted that Aïtana had every right to her anger. And that wasn't all. Had she really just confessed that she didn't know how to handle this situation any further? Did Catarina just ask me for advice on respect? "Uhm..." Aïtana was at a loss for words. How could she give advice in such a situation? Of course, Catarina was correct to assume she could not let Aïtana go if she didn't want to stand up for her crimes. She couldn't help but feel rushes of anger coming up again. Asking to be taught respect but not wanting to be held responsible for her actions, that's just like you, isn't it? But this wouldn't help her. What was her own agenda here? To show Catarina just how much she despised her actions, her morals? Did she want to make sure Catarina went back to hurting her and not really listening? She had undoubtedly surprised her this morning and lifted the mask. If she wanted to get anywhere, she needed to start with keeping it respectful as long as Catarina attempted the same. She was listening. She was asking for help. This could definitely be a sign that there was still room for Catarina to grow. Somewhere, somehow - maybe. "Well... You could continue to talk to me at eye level. That is a good start. You could also give me the newspapers every morning. I like to read them. I'd appreciate three actual meals per day. I am assuming you were gonna provide that already. And fresh clothes. A big jug of water always refilled and a cup to drink from. I should not have to ask you for water throughout the day. That would be the best beginning, I think." Catarina rose from her position on the floor. Aïtana noticed the glance to the second chair at the table. She had already guessed that Catarina would use it one of the coming days. She hadn't bothered to think about in what context that would be - she had felt it would have been a more cruel one than shared meals. But it seemed Catarina was missing friendships in her life. She seemed lonely to Aïtana, in that moment. She could've been mistaken though. There would be plenty of other reasons her gaze could have crossed that chair. Maybe she had seen a fly. "I must admit that I indeed don't feel up to reading. The... situation kind of takes the fun out of that."</s>	<\|message\|>The Ducal House Catarina's eyes met Aïtana's as she reached through the bars to take the address. "Oh why thank you, that was very helpful of you, darling," she said absentmindedly, stashing the parchment in a fold in her clothes. Her mind was on how Aïtana's tone had shifted, even in just those two words. There was mutual ground here, and she felt some satisfaction from that. She was closer to her goal, after all. But there was something else there. They had just interacted as people for the first time since they met, so many years ago. It was odd. She was used to having had that already. She would have to pay the shop a visit the next day. She listened to Aïtana's requests, nodding to confirm when Aïtana assumed her intention to supply food. The requests were more than fair, those she didn't plan on would be easy enough to fulfill. The only one that could be an issue is the newspaper. If there's anything being published about Aïtana being missing, it could prove an issue. But that's a bridge that could be crossed later. Then, Aïtana requested water. Catarina let out a heavy sigh and rubbed her forehead. "Fuck, it's always the basics I forget..." she groaned, under her breath. She took a second before speaking clearly again, "But of course, Aïtana. These are all just common courtesy. I did intend to have a basin here for you, refilled daily. Unfortunately, I must have forgot while choosing the books. It will be here tomorrow when you wake. Until then..." she said, trailing off as she saw Aïtana running out of bread. She prepared her some more and passed it through the bars. "Until then, I'll bring you a pitcher, some cups, and the newspaper after we finish this conversation." Her eyes briefly narrowed as she studied Aïtana. She rubbed her chin and bit her lip, grimacing slightly. "What are your measurements, darling? You may fit into some of my clothes." she said. She was never going to go and retrieve Aïtana's clothes from her lodgings. This would be a terrible idea, as surely someone would know Aïtana was missing by now. Her room would be closely monitored, and pulling any strings to change that would look far too suspicious, even high ranking as she is. "When I visit the shop tomorrow I'll get some spare undergarments, too. Would you like more of the same, or a different style?" Aïtana's next words made Catarina look at her as if she had just burst through the door shouting nonsense. And, in a sense, that's just what Catarina thought about her words. She blinked a few times. A careful cadence took hold of her voice as she spoke next. "Of all the things you have ever said to me, Miss du'Vall... That is the most shocking. How- wh- uh... How? Please do explain."</s>
<\|description\|>Aïtana Du'Vall Concept: a court mage who is a trusted individual to the ducal couple. Her position in the court comes with the responsibility of moral inquisitions. She is responsible to advise the court and especially the ducal couple on the moral aspects of decisions due to the purity of her magical abilities. She also has a high standing within the executive branch and is asked to sit within some trials, give her opinion or advice, and oversee some of the more complicated cases. Race: Human Age: 37 Appearance Abilities • Spells of Insight Works as a hunch, a vague 'pull' or something that would lead them to have a gut feeling of "I should look there, I should hide, I should xy" and then they trust in that and it usually proves correct. • Spells of Purity Allows the user to tug at people's heartstrings and make them feel prone to speak their truth, their heart's desire, their true pain. Essentially, honesty. Requires focus and verbal use. Can be enhanced with specific catalysts. • Spells of Audible Indunation The ability to overwhelm someone's mind with voices. Requires focus, close proximity to the other person. Can 'ricochet' when someone uses a field with ricocheting ability. Useless against people with mind shields. • Spells of Monocular Realization The ability to make people see your own bodily features as however you want. This does not result in an actual change of bodily features, but instead, it works as a "filter" atop the real version. Can only be held for a short period of time. Limited to user's imagination and skills. Unlikely to be upheld during pain due to requiring some concentration. Needs consistency: If not consistent in color/shape/details/etc, the deceived can easily see through the filter. Weather Conditions: The illusion must be adapted during weather changes, this includes for example when the user gets wet, they need to remember to change the illusion to someone who is also wet. (This can be done subconsciously.) Drive: Honesty and Justice Belief: "The laws enabled by the court protect the citizens' human rights and the court's system and branches enforce a just execution of those laws to ensure justice and safety." Characterization notes - Values fairness, the law, and justice. - Trusts in the ducal couple and the established justice system - Has become the unofficial official symbol for morality (meaning that the officials - such as the court - use her as a symbol for their morality but it is not officially claimed that she's their symbol) - Has a slightly deeper voice that has been described as enticing, seductive and soothing. Personality As someone holding a lot of responsibility and trust, Aïtana is very much aware of the power she holds and strives to treat it with respect every day. Due to her valuing justice and fairness so highly, she holds herself to a high standard. She can not fail. Failing would mean to not just make a 'mistake' but it would have significant impacts on other people's lives. Being fully aware of this, Aïtana is not always the most relaxed person. She tends to sit through court sittings with a frown on her forehead and tension in her upper back. Due some poor choices in the past, Aïtana certainly doesn't lack a package of guilt she carries around with her. The fact that she has become a public symbol for moral standards weighs heavily on her. Aïtana believes certain types of magic that want to harm or control people to be a disease that plagues the heart and soul and can corrupt good people. She would compare it to drug use. You try it, you begin to balance a slippery slope and it gets you addicted and pulled in further and further. Until it begins to control you, corrupt your own ideas and morals and your soul. People who go down this road can be seen as the victim. But at some point, when they become a threat to society, they have to be seen as the enemy of the court. In these instances, Aïtana would suggest moving against those who cause harm to others with force even if it might mean their death. Where trials are seen as a just opportunity to determine someone's guilt or innocence, Aïtana believes that at a certain point of harm or treason the trial comes secondary - the safety of the citizens comes first! And if that means to end someone's life, then so be it. Although it does pierce her heart and she'd rather save a life and save a victim. Breaking the law for selfish gain is something Aïtana can't see. She believes in the system and in the peace their city enjoys. This peace as well as everyone's human rights can only be protected if those who break the laws see their rightful punishment. In cases of self-defense, desperation or survival, Aïtana sees the breaking of a law - depending on the criminal charge - more as a reaction to a different problem and would speak in support of the person to be granted help of some kind instead of punishment. Occupation/Position: Advisor on Moral Issues (Member of the Court) History</s> <\|message\|>Aïtana Du'Vall "Hehehehe...hahahah!" The woman was laughing as she saw the child run around her. But she was just a child herself. Not more than fourteen years. The kid was making her dizzy. He was running round and round and round as she spun her body to keep her focus on him, pretending to throw her claws out at him, growling and hissing. "Aïtana! Aïtana!", the boy yelled her way as his body jerked away from her dangerous claws. "Aïtana!!" Suddenly his voice changed. She sounded angry now. The meadow was gone, they stood in a small wooden room. A kitchen. The stove was on. The water was boiling over. "Aïtana!", the same scream came at her again. The boy's amber eyes glared at her with malicious intent, with hatred and anger deeper than his 9-year-old soul should have been able to carry. "ARGHHH!", he screamed. A high-pitched ringing hit her ear, at the same time something burning hot sliced over her face. She screamed. She could hear herself scream. "Aïtana! Aïtana!" The boy was crying now. He sat beside her on the floor and shook her arm with his two small hands. Big tears were running down his face. "I didn't mean it. Aïtana!" The boy blurred before her eyes. "Nikolai...", soft lips whispered from a clouded mind. "It's okay. I know. Nikolai...." Aïtana's eyes opened to a blurred intake of colors she couldn't place. Everything seemed gray... Her head felt heavy. She tried to pull her hand to her forehead but it was stuck. Aïtana let her head drop for a moment, her eyes closed. She felt sick to her stomach. When she reopened her eyes and forced her brain to process her surroundings, the blur slowly lifted. She didn't recognize where she was. It was some kind of dark cold room. The walls were made up of gray stone. She saw bookshelves. A single entrance, the door closed. She pulled on her arm again and this time it dawned on her that she wasn't simply stuck. She was tied up. Her mind began to understand that something had happened. Asess the situation, her logic commanded. She was tied up on her hands, her ankles and for good measure around her midsection. She could see. Her mouth was free, she could use her verbal magic. The stool she was positioned in seemed to be of simple wood. It stood close enough to the entrance. The door seemed to be made up of normal wood, it looked thick but at least it wasn't metal. She quickly took notice that she had no further belongings but her clothes on her body. Her eyes darted around the room. Books... so many books. A strange big stone circle stood on the opposite side of the room, opposite from the only exit she could make out. A desk. A cabinet. She would need to get out of the chair. The cabinet might hold something sharp enough to cut through the robes that tied her up. The desk might offer a letter opener. Not exactly a weapon but worth a try. Aïtana took a breath. Her head still felt heavy. She didn't exactly have a headache. It felt more like the aftermath of a painful night. She was exhausted. Her body desperately needed fluid. Her mouth felt dry. How long have I been out for? It was impossible to say what time of day it was as the room proved to offer no windows. Underground, was her first explanation. Aïtana almost yelped as the door flung open. Her eyes grew wide for just a second. Then her face was stone. She hoped the woman hadn't noticed. She thought she didn't. Before stood Catarina Loveti de Monte Scifo. The memory of sharp, unbearable pain all over her body resurfaced. The traitor began to talk to her. Aïtana would have loved nothing more than to knock her unconscious and throw her into the darkest cell they could find to leave her there to rot. Her suspicions had been proven right. If not before, then now beyond any doubt. Her captor began to light up the rooms with candles. A loud crack almost made Aïtana jump. But she had felt the show of power, the attempt to scare her coming. Her heart might have jumped but her body had not flinched. She wanted her to talk? Aïtana gathered some strength and spit right in front of Catarina. Her eyes darted back into those furious orbs.</s> <\|message\|>The Ducal House Catarina's anger dripped away from her face, almost becoming kind when Aïtana stared back. But she never broke her gaze. Never stopped analyzing and studying. The other woman's face was cold and inexpressive, but things were never that simple. In the same position, Catarina would hide her own emotions. She would be a fool to assume Aïtana wouldn't. The spitting told her everything she needed to know. Disdain, frustration, defiance, and hatred. Meeting this with more hate could never help. Cata was the one to break the gaze when she paced over to the cabinet in the far corner. She placed the candle on a small raised slab and opened the cabinet door. Strange glass and marble apparatus filled the shelves, placed in tidy and organised rows. Rags were folded and stacked on the bottom shelf. Catarina lifted one from the stack. She walked over to where the spit had soiled her carpet, and crouched down to clean it. "This was expensive, you know," she said. "I wouldn't do that again if I were you." She stood and began toying with the rag before leaning against a nearby shelf, eyes looking her captive up and down. Her nails tapped on the spine of a wood-bound book. "Aïtana, darling, look. To be frank, I don't like imprisoning people. It's disgusting, honestly. I don't want to have you as my prisoner any more than you want to be my prisoner..." she trailed off. The tapping stopped. "So believe me when I say that I only want to know how you came to be here so I can avoid having to do this to others. It's just damage control, see?" Cata closed her eyes for a few seconds and let out a long, defeated sigh. She slid the wooden book off the shelf and clutched it against her. Iron clasps held it shut, and strange shapes were burned into the back cover. "I suppose if today is to be a day for honesty between us, then I should take the lead... I do admire you. You have strong morals, which I would genuinely love to hear about some time." Her eyes found Aïtana's as she lowered herself to the floor to sit down. They were playful and full of interest. "Maybe after I've got you situated in a more appropriate cell. It's being outfitted to hold a guest of your esteem at the moment. It should be ready by tomorrow. But, I digress. You must have left traces, and so many people are wont to follow such clues. If they do, then they'll just wind up here, like you. You don't really want to get anyone else captured, do you?"</s>	<\|message\|>Aïtana Du'Vall Aïtana watched the woman closely as she began cleaning the spot on the carpet. She soon finished and began speaking to her as if they were long friends or had some kind of relationship that allowed for civil communication while one of them had been knocked out cold, kidnapped, and was tied to a chair. Aïtana was ready to spit into Catarina's face - be it with words or fluids. Her words did nothing to impress her. They all felt like lies at this point, and even more so, they sounded pathetic in her ears. Admiring her morals. Who was supposed to believe that? Maybe someone from the council she had somehow gotten into her pocket? Aïtana had long believed that Catarina was hiding the full scope of who and what she was. Her suspicion was more of a gut feeling at first, a wariness. Be careful around that one, her instinct had warned her. And Aïtana had listened. Catarina was dangerous. She could deal with dangerous, she could even respect dangerous. What she drew the line at dishonest and pretentious. Catarina got close to her, close enough so they could look into each other's eyes as her captor lowered herself to the floor. Aïtana wouldn't give her the pleasure to look away and cower. She stared straight into those eyes and searched for something she could work with. Was there doubt? Was there hatred? But she couldn't tell. "Let's not pretend for one second that you want to stand across from me as equals. Your words don't phase me. I have the strong feeling one of us benefits more from this captive situation than the other, so don't come at me with this weak attempt of 'We both hate this situation equally, let's work this out' bullshit. If you find it so disgusting, I recommend taking a long look into the mirror. You might throw up from the very view you find in it." She wished she had free range with her feet to push the woman away from her position in front of the chair. "If you're trying the 'easy way' here, just to blame it on me once you start your torture, I'd suggest you cut to the act. Honestly, I never thought you were this naive to believe your victim-blaming would work on me. Have you read too many villain novels? Do you practice that speech in front of the mirror?" She let out an unamused laugh. "Shall we unpack your traumatic childhood next as if that would excuse any of your actions? 'Oh I find kidnapping disgusting.' But didn't you just mention there was another person you have locked up somewhere in a cage? 'You wouldn't want someone else to get captured.' Are you really trying to blame your actions on a person tied to a chair? I'm sorry but your theater act isn't doing it for me. If you want to have a real conversation with me, I'll give you two hints. First: Do not call me darling. Second: Untie me. Meet me at eye level. Let's talk as equals. And don't use your corrupted, ungraceful spells to dominate someone else's body or mind." She wasn't ready to admit that she had not yet cracked how Catarina had captured her. Her memories of that moment hadn't fully surfaced yet. She knew that Catarina had surprised her. Not with her presence but with something else. Aïtana had dropped to the floor immediately, pain had been involved. But as far as she could tell, her body was uninjured now. Aïtana braced herself for an incoming attack. She didn't know if Catarina was one to easily lose her temper, she hadn't seemed like it before. But now she was in her habitat, away from people, away from needing a mask. And Aïtana could not possibly know what hid underneath it.</s>
<\|description\|>Aïtana Du'Vall Concept: a court mage who is a trusted individual to the ducal couple. Her position in the court comes with the responsibility of moral inquisitions. She is responsible to advise the court and especially the ducal couple on the moral aspects of decisions due to the purity of her magical abilities. She also has a high standing within the executive branch and is asked to sit within some trials, give her opinion or advice, and oversee some of the more complicated cases. Race: Human Age: 37 Appearance Abilities • Spells of Insight Works as a hunch, a vague 'pull' or something that would lead them to have a gut feeling of "I should look there, I should hide, I should xy" and then they trust in that and it usually proves correct. • Spells of Purity Allows the user to tug at people's heartstrings and make them feel prone to speak their truth, their heart's desire, their true pain. Essentially, honesty. Requires focus and verbal use. Can be enhanced with specific catalysts. • Spells of Audible Indunation The ability to overwhelm someone's mind with voices. Requires focus, close proximity to the other person. Can 'ricochet' when someone uses a field with ricocheting ability. Useless against people with mind shields. • Spells of Monocular Realization The ability to make people see your own bodily features as however you want. This does not result in an actual change of bodily features, but instead, it works as a "filter" atop the real version. Can only be held for a short period of time. Limited to user's imagination and skills. Unlikely to be upheld during pain due to requiring some concentration. Needs consistency: If not consistent in color/shape/details/etc, the deceived can easily see through the filter. Weather Conditions: The illusion must be adapted during weather changes, this includes for example when the user gets wet, they need to remember to change the illusion to someone who is also wet. (This can be done subconsciously.) Drive: Honesty and Justice Belief: "The laws enabled by the court protect the citizens' human rights and the court's system and branches enforce a just execution of those laws to ensure justice and safety." Characterization notes - Values fairness, the law, and justice. - Trusts in the ducal couple and the established justice system - Has become the unofficial official symbol for morality (meaning that the officials - such as the court - use her as a symbol for their morality but it is not officially claimed that she's their symbol) - Has a slightly deeper voice that has been described as enticing, seductive and soothing. Personality As someone holding a lot of responsibility and trust, Aïtana is very much aware of the power she holds and strives to treat it with respect every day. Due to her valuing justice and fairness so highly, she holds herself to a high standard. She can not fail. Failing would mean to not just make a 'mistake' but it would have significant impacts on other people's lives. Being fully aware of this, Aïtana is not always the most relaxed person. She tends to sit through court sittings with a frown on her forehead and tension in her upper back. Due some poor choices in the past, Aïtana certainly doesn't lack a package of guilt she carries around with her. The fact that she has become a public symbol for moral standards weighs heavily on her. Aïtana believes certain types of magic that want to harm or control people to be a disease that plagues the heart and soul and can corrupt good people. She would compare it to drug use. You try it, you begin to balance a slippery slope and it gets you addicted and pulled in further and further. Until it begins to control you, corrupt your own ideas and morals and your soul. People who go down this road can be seen as the victim. But at some point, when they become a threat to society, they have to be seen as the enemy of the court. In these instances, Aïtana would suggest moving against those who cause harm to others with force even if it might mean their death. Where trials are seen as a just opportunity to determine someone's guilt or innocence, Aïtana believes that at a certain point of harm or treason the trial comes secondary - the safety of the citizens comes first! And if that means to end someone's life, then so be it. Although it does pierce her heart and she'd rather save a life and save a victim. Breaking the law for selfish gain is something Aïtana can't see. She believes in the system and in the peace their city enjoys. This peace as well as everyone's human rights can only be protected if those who break the laws see their rightful punishment. In cases of self-defense, desperation or survival, Aïtana sees the breaking of a law - depending on the criminal charge - more as a reaction to a different problem and would speak in support of the person to be granted help of some kind instead of punishment. Occupation/Position: Advisor on Moral Issues (Member of the Court) History</s> <\|message\|>Aïtana Du'Vall Would you believe that? That maniac was laughing. But of course! If someone had something to laugh about in this situation, Aïtana would assume it'd be Catarina. Her facial expression slipped into one that clearly read 'you serious?' but would not offer the belief that she'd be phased much by it. Throw at me what you like. As much Aïtana had wanted for Catarina to just slap her, scream at her, threaten her with torture and get the cruel waiting phase over with, the woman was smarter than to think she could crack Aïtana with such standard villainous behavior. Instead, Catarina indulged herself in mimicking Aïtana's way of conversation. She stayed calm, slightly amused. She threw jabs at her, called her boring, tried to insult her with meaningless words. Catarina played the game Aïtana had raised between them. She could recognize and respect that. Catarina let Aïtana decide how to go about it, in this moment at least, and gave her that bit of control. She was smart. She showed Aïtana just how helpless her situation was. Not by force and not by threads. By flirtation. If Catarina wanted to call her darling, so be it. It boiled Aïtana's blood a little but she was far from letting that affect her. The first anger rose and then lifted as she cleared her head. It's just a word and it has no meaning in her mouth. She means to take a rise out of me. She thinks she found something that pokes at me and so she uses it to show her dominance. Pathetic, but fits her style just fine. As Catarina walked behind her and touched her scarred cheek, Aïtana's head drove to the side a small fraction. It was the automatic response of her body. The wall that screamed DO NOT TOUCH. However tiny and miniature her movement had been, she knew immediately that Catarina had noticed it. You didn't go to play such a game of touch to then miss the one reaction you were looking for. Aïtana could scream at herself for that failure. With Catarina's arm around her neck and her chin on her shoulder, it took a lot within Aïtana to not move away as much as possible. She equally waited and feared for that moment that their cheeks would brush and she would be forced to feel Catarina's skin against her scarred one. But the moment didn't come. Instead, Catarina made a show of running her hand over the same spot again. This time Aïtana didn't flinch. But she felt the familiar acid in her stomach crawling up her throat. That swirling sensation inside her belly that made her feel like throwing up. The world tipped and with a way too soft thud Aïtana landed with her back to the floor. "Uff!" The coalition tensed up her back muscles and she felt how the back of the chair dug into her bones and skin uncomfortably. She would have muscle pain for days after this. The fancy carpet helped. Her first bitter thought was to spit on the carpet again. But that would make her seem childish and unresourceful. It'd be a little 'fuck you' but nothing more. So Aïtana looked Catarina into the eyes with apathy as she continued to romance her with words. The assumption on Catarina's part about Aïtana's reading happens amused her but she would not let a stray comment like that reveal any emotions on her face. And she would certainly not counterbalance Catarina to her liking. This weak attempt to gain information on her, however small, would not rouse Aïtana to share a single word. And what was this bit about books? Way to redirect a conversation. Was she supposed to be impressed? Did little Catarina want a pet on the head for having a signed edition of some romance novel? How ridiculous. Catarina's words finally found their end with a question. One that could've meant to challenge Aïtana. But it was to no avail. "Is this villain's tactics 101? Is this the beginning of a corruption arc or are you trying to get me to save you - you know, deep deep inside?" She let the words sit for a moment, unsure why sarcasm was still her go-to. Catarina would just feast on it. "You and I are alike. We are alike in the sense that we both choose our actions ourselves and are to blame for them. But those actions surely look different. I never called you a monster, Catarina. Monsters are tale-bound mystical creatures that come out after dark. You're just a human. You're responsible for your actions." If she was looking for a heart-to-heart about the painful mistakes in Aïtana's past, she was bound to wait for eternity.</s> <\|message\|>The Ducal House That apathy in Aïtana's eyes made Catarina smirk. She had played this game before. She knew people with a will this strong could never break this early. It was a fake apathy, one constructed to throw her off, to make her think she's breaking no ground. Delicious. She'd seen many like this in the past. Both within Castrolibero and without. There was a shimmer of defiance in the ones who hadn't truly broken. Oh how lovely to watch it turn. She swept a strand of hair from her face and looked down her nose into Aïtana's eyes. "Miss Du'Vall... darling, no... you know better than this, surely?" she drawled, mocking the other woman with everything, all the way down to the rhythm of her words. "Or... maybe not? Okay, let me explain. Sometimes when you say certain things, like say... I recommend taking a long look into the mirror. You might throw up from the very view you find in it or... just to blame it on me once you start your torture, I'd suggest you cut to the act, it implies certain things. That means you might not say it, but the words still carry the meaning! Exciting, right? For example, those words imply that you think of me as a monster." Throughout the entire explanation she kept a mockingly sincere expression on her face, complete with a furrowed brow and pouty lips. She put deliberate effort into mocking Aïtana's tone while she was quoting her. Unwilling to stop there, she continued, saying "Another example might be that this entire time I have been implying that you're a fucking idiot. Didn't you pick up on that, darling?" Her mouth split into a wide smile, lighting up her eyes. This really was too easy. She briefly reconsidered picking on such low-hanging fruit. Surely it couldn't be this easy? But... no. Instead, she giggled a low and flirtatious giggle. "Oh you're too much fun darling. Maybe I will let you one day. You know, let you uhh... 'save' me - deep, deep inside," she booped Aïtana on the nose and winked, "Maybe." With a swirl and a swish, Catarina stood. She walked behind the chair once more, this time lifting it back up so Aïtana was once again seated properly. Guests should never be made to feel uncomfortable. The chair creaked as it pivoted. A long, high whine. A thud as it connected with the carpet. Cata circled around to position herself in front of Aïtana. She crouched slightly, coming down to eye level with her captive. "But after all this you say I'm responsible for my actions? Go on then. Hold me responsible, and I'll hold you responsible," she said, slowly, deliberately. Dangerously. "I won't if you won't, darling." She winked.</s>	<\|message\|>Aïtana Du'Vall At this point, Aïtana wasn't sure why she was still listening to this person. They were more than clearly not on the same page. Morally as well as dictionary-wise. The chair got lifted off the floor once Catarina seemed satisfied with her theatrics. Aïtana's face turned from apathy to a mix of apathy and defeat. It wasn't the kind of defeat that suggested you had found yourself in a corner or at a loss of will to fight and now felt there was no other way but to surrender. It was the kind of defeat that made you retreat into yourself and let the other person talk because they are too stupid to follow your simple logic. The kind of people who stand before you and stomp their feet and grin at you thinking they've won when you stop arguing with them, not even realizing that they haven't understood a single word you had said before. It was a waste of time to reason with such people. Aïtana's had nothing of her humor, her bitterness, or her sarcasm in it anymore. She just sounded bored. "Just because you are able to remember and quote my sentences doesn't mean you understand them. If I say those words it implies that I think little of your morality. It does not imply I believe you to be a monster because - as I've said before - those are mythical creatures. And you are not mythical. You are not hell-bound. You are just a human who decides to make decisions the law doesn't agree with. You are a criminal. That's all you are. If your definition of a monster includes yourself as such, then that is something you should reflect upon with yourself. My definition of a monster doesn't include people. If you haven't understood why I can spell it out for you. But I thought you smarter than that." The woman took a deep breath. Much like a professor who was sincerely done explaining the same thing yet another time for that one student who still doesn't get. "If you think I haven't picked up on your feelings regarding my intellect, you have missed something. However, what surprises me I must admit is that you seem to think I care one bit whether you think me the greatest genius or the biggest fool that ever walked this planet or the next. I don't know why I am still granting you this much of my breath." She wasn't sure what made Catarina think any of her words had left even the slightest mark on her. Maybe she had misjudged her after all. It was possible Aïtana had given her more credit than was due. "As for your offer... Hold me responsible if you can handle holding yourself responsible. If you wanna appear so brave, let's see what the judges say about our crimes." What gesture, word, or expression had caused Catarina to even think for a second she'd need her to not hold her accountable for her wrongdoings? How did this person think she'd even be tempted to let her off the hook if in return Catarina let her off the hook? She wasn't even on the damn hook! Yes, she had made mistakes. As everyone else. And she was not seeking a mistake-free existence. But all her mistakes had been honest and she had done her best to repair what could be repaired. She had done her best to better herself. Her mistakes were not hidden, she hadn't run from them. She had dealt with them openly, had endured the public's roar and the possible social and legal consequences. What had Catarina done to make her trustworthy? What had she done that would allow Aïtana to trust even a single of her words? Why would someone like Aïtana ever consider sitting on the same level as someone like Catarina?</s>
<\|description\|>Wonderland Lewis Carrol Caster Sex: Male Alignment: Lawful Good Attribute: Man History: Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, better know by his penname Lewis Carroll, was an English author of children's fiction, most notable Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass. Born in 1832 to a family of conservative high-church Anglicans; a father who was a country parson who married his first cousin who raised eleven children, Charles being the eldest son and the third child. Lewis was brilliant child gifted in academics, someone with an intelligence that was ahead of its time raised raised to be a devout Christian, even becoming a deacon of the church and taught mathematics at Christ Church until the day he died. In 1856, Dean Henry Liddell arrived at Christ Church, bringing with him his young family, all of whom would figure largely in Dodgson's life over the following years, and would greatly influence his writing career. Dodgson became close friends with Liddell's wife Lorina and their children, particularly the three sisters Lorina, Edith, and Alice Liddell. Information is scarce (Dodgson's diaries for the years 1858–1862 are missing), but it seems clear that his friendship with the Liddell family was an important part of his life in the late 1850s, and he grew into the habit of taking the children on rowing trips. It was then in 1862 that Dodgson invented the outline of the story that eventually became his first and greatest commercial success, Alice in Wonderland. He told the story to Alice Liddell and she begged him to write it down and the rest is history. His work had influenced many even a century after his death and celebrated to this day. Lewis, despite his piousness, was not without his own temptations due to his bloodline; he had been interested with women, married and single, and enjoyed several relationships that would have been scandalous by the social standards for the time. Every affair he ever had was recorded in his many diaries and his family knew after his death if this information was publicly known then his reputation would be destroyed, which ironically only made rumors about him arise after his death. Personality: An intelligent, logical, yet whimsical man. A man with a strict moral code and piousness towards God, he was someone who believed in justice and protecting the weak even when he was a child if his time at Rugby School was any indication. However, there was a side of him that loathed himself or as an editor of biographer put it, "his Diary is full of such modest depreciations of himself and his work, interspersed with earnest prayers (too sacred and private to be reproduced here) that God would forgive him the past, and help him to perform His holy will in the future." Besides that, his only sin is that he likes women a bit too much. Parameters: Strength: E Agility: E Endurance: E Mana: EX Luck: B Class Skills Territory Creation(C): He does not make a Workshop but rather a "Study", where he can spin stories. Personal Skills Enchant(A): While Lewis was an inventor, it was very minor and it simply what he was not known for between his prolific works as an author, mathematician, and logician. His work as an author and inventor of words, even coining the word 'portmanteau,' and had such vivid, yet nonsensical descriptions for things such as the Vorpal Sword has allowed him access to the Enchant skill. Anything that he does Enchant will gain an endowment relating to any of his famous works. It is a skill that causes concept endowment towards weapons. It could also be called "Literary Masterpiece Endowment." It essentially is a skill that boosts a Master's fighting abilities by adding a function to an object that it did not possess previously. With his fame, he can produce even Noble Phantasms of C~E rank though the higher the rank the higher the cost of mana. Migraine:(B): A curse that was inherited from his place of birth during her mortal life. There is recorded evidence that Lewis Carrol suffered from chronic migraines, which is associated with Alice in Wonderland syndrome, or Dysmetropsia. From what could be gathered from his journals and the influences it had on his story, he experiences periods of where his perception of time changes, and cases of Micropsia and Macropsia, perceiving object as smaller or bigger than they actually are. When experiencing an episode, his mental skills decrease in effectiveness. It is very possible that this provided inspiration for Alice in Wonderland. Logician: Logical Reasoning(A)- Aside from being an author of children stories, he was also a mathematician whose work in mathematical logic pre-dated what would appear a hundred-years later. He was an author and solver of logic problems that still boggle the minds of logicians today and that is what this skill reflects. It is simply using mathematics to make logical deductions that has been elevated to the level of a skill. With the information presented to him, it can be used to predict and even confuse opponents as clairvoyance. Mental Pollution(EX): Abilities to influence or attack the mind do not work on him due to the absurd, illogical, yet logical world that his mind is. Noble Phantasms: Title: Mad Phantasmal Kingdom Rank: EX Type: Anti-Unit Range: 1-100 Targets: 300 Description: Simply put, this Noble Phantasm is quite literally summons things from Wonderland through the medium of a typewriter that Lewis can manifest at will where he types away what he wants to summon. It is actually an amalgamation of Alice in Wonderland, Looking Through the Looking Glass, and The Hunting of the Snark. Of course, the more powerful something is the longer it will take to summon it as well as a large cost of mana, but the inverse is true; the weaker something is the shorter amount of time it would take to summon, but that also means he could summon multiple at a time at less the cost. For example, a Jabberwock would take quite a bit of time to summon, but summoning the Card Soldiers in spades, no pun intended, would be faster and cheaper in terms of mana cost. He can also create holographic projections of his creations, but they can't harm anyone or anything. Mainly used for distractions.</s> <\|message\|>Adam Kenneth Yearling. Adam Kenneth Yearling - Miyama Town. If A.K. Yearling could say, sincerely, that he was mindful of his own safety, he would. But he could not - Esfandiyar's concerns were real, and A.K. was on the verge of burdening himself with every innocent life which could be potentially lost. But at the same time, he knew enough stories to know that war... War was hell and he had thrown himself into it, initially to prove himself to his family, but now because the story demanded a hero, even a martyr. And right now, as he continued looking for Elexis or some other Master, he had no regrets - Then he saw the flare from one of Shinto Town's lesser parks, and decided that compassion did not preclude practicality and vigilance. So he said to Esfandiyar, telepathically, Change of plans. We go to where someone is picking a fight, observe what fight is occuring, and make sure no civilians get caught in the crossfire in this night - That last part is my small-w wish. I'll pull out my Invisibility Cloak for protection. The young man, barely out of boyhood, then pulled out the Cloak and his Book and covered himself with the former, and began using Wind Magecraft with his basic spells in order to float towards Shinto Town, gesturing for Esfandiyar to folllow him in Spirit Form. As he flew towards his destination, his Cloak's properties allowing him to see inside and through it as though it were transparent, the Magus wrote the next few lines of his own story. As the first blows of the Holy Grail War began, the burden of commitment that the author had taken upon himself, a burden born from mixed compassion, duty, pride and self-righteousness, felt as light as air. Why was this? Had the author already given up on life as well as victory? Had he decided that joining the narrative of the world, the narrative he believed was his path to The Root, required his sacrifice? Nevertheless, the young man hoped against hope that Fate would be benevolent, and open an opportunity for him to achieve his goals, a small but existent chance to avert what he was fast believing was his doom. For part of him clung on to life, or at least the idea of life, even though he had given up on truly achieving his goals, given up on getting the acknowledgement he wanted... Moving from Miyama to Shinto Lord</s> <\|message\|>Lancer From Miyama to Shinto, Leaping @Raijinslayer --- Clang. Clang. The screech of iron against blazing stone rang out above Miyama town. The enemy had obviously upped the ante a bit in terms of the power she was putting into her attacks, and Raiden did just the same. Each tossed rock met with the shaft of that polearm and was sent hurtling generally back in the direction it had come from. If she wanted to learn about his abilities, then she could learn that attacks on this level were still something he could absolutely handle. After five throws, he hadn't missed one yet, and he was getting closer with each hit. More than just that. He was picking up speed and flashiness in equal measure, perhaps even revelling in the showiness of the battle. Every hit ended with a flourish, as he landed on a rooftop once again, staying still while Caster prepared her next attack before leaping up to meet it. No doubt, it was a fool's way of fighting... Had he been swinging his spear with his feet just now?! At this point, his movement was such a rapid blur that it was impossible to say. Clang. Clang. The screech of iron against blazing stone rang out above Fuyuki Bridge. "Hah! Anything else?!" Constantly picking up speed, each jump took Raiden noticeably further than the last. And yet that was completely counteracted by the fact that he came to a dead stop for a few seconds each time. He wasn't someone who prioritized efficiency, but that was his strength in its own way. He felt the sixth coming, crouched, and leapt again. The returning course of the rocks was no longer so random, now. If she was going to harass him endlessly like this while he crossed the city, it was only fair for him to return the favour a bit, yeah? The sixth stone clipped a satellite dish near where the pair were hovering, melting supports and sending it tumbling into the street below. The seventh hurtled past them, close enough for Kairi to feel the heat radiating off of it. After that, each one was aimed straight for Caster. Her own firecrackers careening through the air to return to their maker. Really, if she was any good as a magus, she could effortlessly deal with her own spell, but that was fine. It was the principle of the thing, really. Clang. Clang. The screech of iron against blazing stone rang out above Shinto town. The buildings here were taller. Despite leaping dozens of meters into the air to strike the twelfth stone, Lancer only needed to fall a few feet to land on top of the nearest skyscraper. He took a breath, feeling the cold night air across his skin. He may have only been allowed to walk around during the night, but that was still fine. It felt nice. He closed his eyes. Hm? The next one is... For a fool, Raiden had one hell of a brain. At the release of the new shot, which, compared to the rest, burned dimly enough to be almost undetectable, he moved just the same. In that moment, before he felt the presence of the stone, what he thought was hey, where's the attack I was expecting? His opponent didn't seem to be much of a warrior in the traditional sense, and he already had a "feel" for how and when she would act. Even if he couldn't predict what kind of magecraft this woman was using, he could definitely predict her throws. Clang. As the explosion began to simmer within that stone, it was repelled, flying backwards into the burning shot that had followed it. A collision to negate both attacks in a midair blast once they came together. Destroying two stones with one stone, so to say. Just as Caster had wished, a burst of light filled the sky, along with smoke and ash from the bullet-like stone. But in the midst of all that, where was Lancer? Where had he landed? Was he somehow obscured behind the debris and smoke from that explosion just now..? No, surely if that were the case, it would only take a simple spell to see through it. On the rooftop near to Caster, where the satellite dish had fallen, concrete shattered. No doubt, someone had just jumped from that spot. Even with the abilities he had shown so far, for him to make it this close so quickly was absolutely beyond expectations. Caster's attention should definitely have turned to that rooftop, where magical energy and sound were radiating. If Lancer had lunged from there to make a direct attack, she would only have a fraction of an instant to ready countermeasures to protect herself and her Master. Of course, he hadn't. His noisy leap from there had been completely horizontal, sending himself instantly to another rooftop, and from there... Another leap, silently this time, without shattering the rooftop beneath his feet. He cut through the air like a spear, and his spear cut through the air like--well, you get the idea. Before the magus' eyes could fully register that there was no one coming at her from the first rooftop, he was in the air behind her, thrusting that huge weapon at her body. There was no way to stop grinning as he attacked with blinding speed. "Was that fun? You've got a hell of an arm on you, Caster!" ...Doesn't shouting like that ruin the main point of a surprise attack, Raiden?</s>	<\|message\|>Wonderland Lewis Carroll Riverside Workshop, Southern Moor As an author Caster, Lewis did the one thing that he knew he could do; he wrote. What he spent the entire doing was enchanting the objects that Master had requested from him and when that job was complete, he went to fortify his Workshop. Well, it could hardly be called a Workshop and more like a Study. It was hardly that impressive in comparison to what the other Caster class servants could produce, but he wasn't a magus, not one in life at least. Unlike him, Master was outside using the magecraft that she honed throughout her life. It was sort of messed up how he could just be summoned with these abilities that many magi could only dream about when he could not perform a lick a of magic in his life. Not like he was complaining though. The sun has set and that meant war had just begun. Anyone could show up at their doorstep, but they would have a hell of a surprise to meet. Through the mental connection that he and his master had, he heard her speak to her in her ever polite manner. Thank you for your praise I shall be there in a moment. He faded into golden shimmer of light from his study and apparated in front of her in only a moment after she requested his presence. It seemed like she was starting to be a bit more open about what she is aiming for, but of course, it wasn't going to be just about her. Just as he inquired about her goals for the war, it was bound to happen that she was going to ask what his own motives are. Not that he could blame her; she needed to know if his wish for the Grail did not interfere with her own. "I don't know. What does a dead man wish for?" Caster mused over such a question. "World peace? Personal happiness?"</s>
<\|description\|>Alasayana, the Huntress Gender: Female Appearance: Rather short for perhaps what one thinks of when they think 'Goddess' standing at a fairly short 4'4, Yana has dusky, dark skin with eyes colored like the brightest emeralds. While some other Gods possess human traits, her domain and overall abilities have given her a somewhat unique more animalistic appearance. Black furry ears, and four rather lively tails with seeming minds of their own, able to move and twist about like serpents ready to devour any sinner in their vicinity. Personality: A wild, feral goddess of Hunting and Judgement who behaves as severe as one may expect a god of these divinities may behave. She inherently believes there is a strict morality and righteousness to the world, and any breaker of that morality is subject to divine judgement from herself. She will uphold this justice and punish evildoers with all the ferocity of a wild beast, sparing little for their pleas of mercy or repentance. Once judgement has been called, it can not be stopped. This of course, doesn't mean she's a mindless bringer of justice. She has just as much cunning and care as a beast might that is stalking prey. She knows when best to engage, and knows that most times, things do not require such extreme measures. She carries herself with all the dignity and grace that a wild beast might. Graceful, respectful but brutal and ferocious without taking insults or slights to her name without causing unneeded cruelty. Some would say this is arrogance on her part, and indeed, perhaps there is a little bit of that, but she is strong, and that is not something she should simply ignore. Her opinion on humans are simple - incredibly weak...but worth protecting. She loves nothing more than to simply watch them, go about their mundane lives, but finds it difficult to completely interact with them outside of business. She spent a week thinking of how to simply say hi to someone once. She's not using her aloof arrogance to hide shyness, definitely not. Domain: Hunting and Judgement Abilities: As she is a Goddess of Judgement, Yana possess abilities that instill order and rebuke those who commit sin and evil. There shall be no lies in her presence that can not be revealed, no deception that she doesn't sense, and no sin or evil creatures in her presence. This also puts her into a direct conflict with demons and other foul, abominable creatures born of whatever evil infects the world - they will be eradicated with all the righteous, feral fury she possesses. She can also purify such evil, even non-physical evil such as curses or lingering malignancy, though it may take some time if she can no directly devour it with her tails. That is to say, when facing such creatures her very nature rebukes them and they will cower and be weakened in her presence. Of course, this is just one half of her divine authority - the other being that of Hunts. Like a feral beast stalking its prey through the forest, she too, stalks evil and will devour it completely. This gives her a surprisingly stout and agile physicality, likely second only to some gods who domains solely focus on fighting or warfare. As well as skilled with a number of weapons and near preternatural senses for the hunt, such when something is dangerous, or when to avoid something how to stay and move unseen, how to move quietly without making a noise. Just like laws of man, she too also upholds fairness and law in the wild and once upon a time, lived as such within the forests of her old jungle domain. These two domains combine in a rather terrifyingly potent combination for sinners and those she 'Marks' as those judged to be evil. Anyone deemed as such, will find her relentlessly pursuing them until they are devoured by her tails. Once she gets even a single whiff of their scent, there shall be no recourse but to run for eternity or stand and bravely face your end. The ultimate expression of this power was being able to take the form of a massive, black hound stalking the land and devouring evil whole. Unfortunately, many of these abilities of evil-busting and hunting have become completely ineffective. Even her ability to sense and purify it has dwindled to that of normal human senses. All she has currently is her physical body, and manipulate her tails to fight and judge evil with. Don't be fooled though, the tails are basically four extra appendages. Four extra appendages with sharp teeth, ability to grow, elongate, and devour anything they get their mouths on and swallow it whole. Brief Backstory: A goddess once worshiped by those in areas perhaps less civilized, primarily in both a desert and tropical jungle regions and those who perhaps, sought justice and retribution against others outside of normal systems. After all, the human systems may be fallible, but a goddess judgement? Flawless. Perfect. Not a single one could argue. Even so, she was well known and widely at one point in those regions to be the purveyor of justice, hunters of evil, and the Goddess one should prey to for fruitful hunts. With a sword that vanquished demons and sinners, and tails that purified curses and evil, she stalked the sands and jungle, doling out punishments and stalking any demon that so dared to tread upon the earth. Yet, like all Gods that day, she met her end. How absurd, she thought. How pathetic. She doesn't remember what it was, of course. No one does...but she does know, that whatever it was, she'd have stood against it with fangs bared and gave it a good wallop before passing. What else is there to say? Surely you don't want to hear about the hunts.</s> <\|message\|>Aureia Aureia, of gold, commerce, wealth,and the far less important, trivial aspects of travel and luck "Eh? Ah, well," Aureia looked down at herself. She should have expected it, but she was caught off guard by the question from the goddess of love. An awfully leading question, at that. It was hard to deny that somehow her appearance had changed; she was smaller and shorter than she once was. Her clothes didn't help much with it, but at least when she groped her own chest, she did still have it, even if that too had gotten… smaller. It didn't seem like there was anything she could do to change her appearance; at her prime, it was not a problem at all to redo her own likeliness on her own whims. Now, even spontaneously changing clothes seemed to be harder than it formerly was. Annoying, but it was still something she could work with. She'd eventually regain her power and do whatever she wanted; maybe she'd even choose to keep this form, who knows. Rallying, she smirked back, lightly bapping Ashte on the head with her parasol. It was still a rude question, after all. "Eh, not really. It's annoying, but there's nothing wrong with being cuter, especially when I'm still beautiful. Who knows, perhaps I might receive even more worshippers this time around?" It didn't seem like O'Menus was simmering down at all, though. That said, it was hard to get the sun god to simmer to begin with, with that inflated ego of his! She sort of understood why he was taking this poorly, but the fit he was throwing was really putting a damper on her reawakening. Really, if she had the supplies, Aureia would already be holding a rebirth celebration party right here, with the other gods and the mortals all invited. Maybe sans sun god. She was sorely tempted to use her parasol again and give him a good, much harder whack with it, before the mortals started banging on the stairwell doors. An interesting development. The mortals of ten thousand years past had a very strange dialect and manner of speaking, but she understood the voices well enough. There it was, the girl was clearly someone to be protected. Aureia did wonder what god she was a priestess of, though. Maybe the entire pantheon, considering the diversity of the sadly small segment of deities that had been reawakened. Aureia was content to remain as she stood and let the mortals come to them. It only seemed natural, a fitting away for the returned gods to receive mortals once more, except the sun god once again thought differently. "This dummy…! He's going to ruin it all, the mortals come to us, not the other way around!" She huffed, and moved after him. Having O'Menus as the mortals' first interaction with the gods was going to bring nothing but trouble.</s> <\|message\|>Lopolay Lopaley Lopaley would take this immediate development seriously. The tone of their voices was not one that would present a sense of comradeship with the priestess. An invading force perhaps? Maybe the priestess had conducted a unceremonial ritual. Was their revival a fluke then? Unwanted by majority but wanted by the few. Questions that would erode at her mind. She would think on them later. For now she had a more immediate concern. "Alasayana, Trineon" The Time goddess would say as she turned to face the pair of gods. "May I carry this priestess." She would say kneeling before them both to gently lift the priestess into a sitting position even with their unconsious state.. In a manner more fit for a mortal then a god, she was handling the priestess with careful care. She didn't truely know how 'durable' a human was. So treating them like hourglass seemed appropriate. She was trying to present herself as an individual that did not want conflict. She also assumed that trying to struggle with a feverish person in the way gods did was just not appropriate at the moment. "We are likely going to need to have as much mobility as possible if there is a battle afoot. Your agility is best when your not protecting someone. So please. I beseech your trust. To allow me to care for this priestess for the time being. At least till we are among friends. Then you may resume your care of her." The time goddess implored the Hunter. She knew better then to get on the bad-side of a god of the hunt. Even with all the time in eternity. She didn't want to spend it having to run away. "And you Trineon, You would be better helping in the fighting would you not?" She would continue. Saying to the other god. AS she slowly got the priestess up onto her back. Carrying her carefully. Wrapping the sleeping girls arms around herself. She was effectively carrying a girl that was a little bigger then her but she could manage. She had helped in many a laborious task. She was no god of strength, nor was her strength particularly abhuman. But her endurance was second to none. Once the girl was on her back. She would make sure to hold the sleeper close. "There there sleeping priestess. Don't worry. You have plenty of time left yet." She would say as she would look at the two gods and then sigh as she looked back at the girl. "I'll use my power to slow down her time. So we'll have longer to get her proper attention." She'd say to the pair. As the gears in her golden-clockwork eye would start to whir. As she used her power upon the girl to slow the fever. To hopefully sty its progression for the time being. @VitaVitaAR@Rune_Alchemist</s>	<\|message\|>Alasayana, the Huntress Alasayana The hunt begins again - Unknown room --- Poor girl - but such was human fragility. Alasayana would allow Trineon to inspect the girl, the god of the oceans likely far better with healing than she was. She would have continued idly watching Menus, least his temper boil over like that of the desert wastelands scorching the sands, but Auriea said something much more helpful - humans. More of them. Above, likely outside whatever chamber this was. The Huntress would smile lightly at that. "Mhm. Worry not. I have no intention of causing undue injury. I was having a nice dream though...I think." Not that she would get very far before a commotion was heard. The loud noise offended her ears quite a bit - and the shouting...some sort of commotion? The words that were heard made it clear the humans were obviously concerned for this girl. A priestess, hm? Of whom, was the priestess of then? To summon all of them like this...this girl was proving to be more and more special by the second. It seemed O'menus was of a similar mindset, though he was reacting far more like she'd expect a tyrant too. Before she ran off, though...Lopaley's voice met her ears. A sound argument, but that didn't mean she liked it. "I see no reason why a conflict is a forgone conclusion." The goddess would reply with a frown. "It sounds like they are merely concerned for the girls safety. Returning her to them as she is will be the best thing we can do." She'd assert, though her eyes would follow Menus as he left. "...but given that ones disposition, I may need to restrain him before he hurts the mortals." The Huntress would sigh in a mildly tired fashion. "Very well, I'll allow you to look after her, but assuming they are not hostile, we attempt to return her to the humans first." She'd turn to leave, tails gently lifting the girl into Lopaley's arms as she'd turn to leave. So she would follow the others out, a purposeful, determined stride, tails tucking close to her body.</s>
<\|description\|>Alasayana, the Huntress Gender: Female Appearance: Rather short for perhaps what one thinks of when they think 'Goddess' standing at a fairly short 4'4, Yana has dusky, dark skin with eyes colored like the brightest emeralds. While some other Gods possess human traits, her domain and overall abilities have given her a somewhat unique more animalistic appearance. Black furry ears, and four rather lively tails with seeming minds of their own, able to move and twist about like serpents ready to devour any sinner in their vicinity. Personality: A wild, feral goddess of Hunting and Judgement who behaves as severe as one may expect a god of these divinities may behave. She inherently believes there is a strict morality and righteousness to the world, and any breaker of that morality is subject to divine judgement from herself. She will uphold this justice and punish evildoers with all the ferocity of a wild beast, sparing little for their pleas of mercy or repentance. Once judgement has been called, it can not be stopped. This of course, doesn't mean she's a mindless bringer of justice. She has just as much cunning and care as a beast might that is stalking prey. She knows when best to engage, and knows that most times, things do not require such extreme measures. She carries herself with all the dignity and grace that a wild beast might. Graceful, respectful but brutal and ferocious without taking insults or slights to her name without causing unneeded cruelty. Some would say this is arrogance on her part, and indeed, perhaps there is a little bit of that, but she is strong, and that is not something she should simply ignore. Her opinion on humans are simple - incredibly weak...but worth protecting. She loves nothing more than to simply watch them, go about their mundane lives, but finds it difficult to completely interact with them outside of business. She spent a week thinking of how to simply say hi to someone once. She's not using her aloof arrogance to hide shyness, definitely not. Domain: Hunting and Judgement Abilities: As she is a Goddess of Judgement, Yana possess abilities that instill order and rebuke those who commit sin and evil. There shall be no lies in her presence that can not be revealed, no deception that she doesn't sense, and no sin or evil creatures in her presence. This also puts her into a direct conflict with demons and other foul, abominable creatures born of whatever evil infects the world - they will be eradicated with all the righteous, feral fury she possesses. She can also purify such evil, even non-physical evil such as curses or lingering malignancy, though it may take some time if she can no directly devour it with her tails. That is to say, when facing such creatures her very nature rebukes them and they will cower and be weakened in her presence. Of course, this is just one half of her divine authority - the other being that of Hunts. Like a feral beast stalking its prey through the forest, she too, stalks evil and will devour it completely. This gives her a surprisingly stout and agile physicality, likely second only to some gods who domains solely focus on fighting or warfare. As well as skilled with a number of weapons and near preternatural senses for the hunt, such when something is dangerous, or when to avoid something how to stay and move unseen, how to move quietly without making a noise. Just like laws of man, she too also upholds fairness and law in the wild and once upon a time, lived as such within the forests of her old jungle domain. These two domains combine in a rather terrifyingly potent combination for sinners and those she 'Marks' as those judged to be evil. Anyone deemed as such, will find her relentlessly pursuing them until they are devoured by her tails. Once she gets even a single whiff of their scent, there shall be no recourse but to run for eternity or stand and bravely face your end. The ultimate expression of this power was being able to take the form of a massive, black hound stalking the land and devouring evil whole. Unfortunately, many of these abilities of evil-busting and hunting have become completely ineffective. Even her ability to sense and purify it has dwindled to that of normal human senses. All she has currently is her physical body, and manipulate her tails to fight and judge evil with. Don't be fooled though, the tails are basically four extra appendages. Four extra appendages with sharp teeth, ability to grow, elongate, and devour anything they get their mouths on and swallow it whole. Brief Backstory: A goddess once worshiped by those in areas perhaps less civilized, primarily in both a desert and tropical jungle regions and those who perhaps, sought justice and retribution against others outside of normal systems. After all, the human systems may be fallible, but a goddess judgement? Flawless. Perfect. Not a single one could argue. Even so, she was well known and widely at one point in those regions to be the purveyor of justice, hunters of evil, and the Goddess one should prey to for fruitful hunts. With a sword that vanquished demons and sinners, and tails that purified curses and evil, she stalked the sands and jungle, doling out punishments and stalking any demon that so dared to tread upon the earth. Yet, like all Gods that day, she met her end. How absurd, she thought. How pathetic. She doesn't remember what it was, of course. No one does...but she does know, that whatever it was, she'd have stood against it with fangs bared and gave it a good wallop before passing. What else is there to say? Surely you don't want to hear about the hunts.</s> <\|message\|>Aureia Aureia, of gold, commerce, wealth,and the far less important, trivial aspects of travel and luck The door at the top of the staircase was a very sturdy looking barrier. The fact that it had been dented meant that whatever the mortals were using to try and breach it was a very powerful weapon, indeed. More intriguing, though, was the way the doors slid open as she approached it, but even that became of little interest compared to what the open door revealed. Like the mortals before her, Aureia had to take a pause to take in the enormity of the scene in front of her. Her eyes narrowed as she observed the blood and gore, the number of dead and living, and their equipment. It seemed, even ten thousand years later, there would always be armor and swords, however unusual. The strange tube-like devices in their hands were another thing entirely, though. They had been shooting volleys at the door—where were the siege engines that could do damage to such a strong door? It was entirely possible that what they wielded were strange staves, and they had been firing volleys of spells at the door, though if that were the case, then she must be very weak indeed, if she couldn't detect the magic. Her eyes drifted to the carnage on the ground. A lopsided battle and a heroic stand had occurred here. In the past, the knowledge of such parties would have been trivial to her, but here, she only had her eyes to work with—who are these two parties of mortals, and more importantly, which group was affiliated with the priestess or had otherwise summoned the gods? By color palette alone, she had to assume the white-clad priestess was more likely to be familiar with the fallen knight than the crimson-armored soldiers. As the patron of commerce, though, she knew better than to assume, and instead contented herself for the moment to observe the exchange between the commander and his subordinate, finding it amusing. She took the time to pick her own brain on how she'd introduce herself, vocalizing her thoughts at the same time. "Hmm… what should I say? It's been ten thousand years. Maybe something quick, since there's so many people. Maybe 'Hello, mortal'? But that's so uninspired," she muttered, before realizing she was being addressed, and rudely, at that. "Oh. Ahem. Greetings, mortal. Oh. Oh my, oh dear. You mortals can't be serious. You wouldn't mind repeating that again, would you?" Fake friendliness filled the tone of her voice as she processed the gall of the man's statement. She'd give him the benefit of the doubt, it was ten thousand years and all, maybe it was some strange slang, because she was pretty sure the man had just tried to order around the divine under the authority of some mortal pretty boy. A pretty bad first impression, all things considered. Surely they weren't…? Oh, they were doubling down. Aureia had been in a good mood from being reawakened, but threatening her and insulting a fellow goddess –one that she respected-- in such an impudent way was a very effective way to ruin that. "I am Aureia, goddess of wealth and commerce. And travel and luck, but that is far less important. That 'beastkin' you see there is the Goddess of Hunting and Judgment. By what insolence do you and your 'holy' emperor presume to make a mockery of the divine and order us around?" She shifted her umbrella forwards, pointing it directly at the face of the red armored commander. It had taken on a dangerous appearance; the tip had morphed into a golden spike, and a single spoke along the edge had transformed into a long, thin razor along the length of the umbrella. She gave them a polite smile. Still riding some of her good mood, she gave them one last chance. She doubted the rest of her fellow gods would be as forgiving and wait for their response, but whatever. "How about I offer a counter proposal? Surrender and submit to our judgment, or die."</s> <\|message\|>O'Menus Hexagonal Chamber - O'Menus The scene before him was of a different kind than he was use to. The viscera, strewn about organs and splattering of blood, the desperate death-prone bodies; most gripping or squeezing onto their last vestiges of mortality was typically ashes where he dispensed his ordinance. A particularly damaged warrior, filled with puncture holes and stabbed by swords, held his cold gaze the longest. 'Useless specks, even killing is a messy deed for them... Though that weapon looks valuable.' He fixed his eyes onto the stupidest of the armored-mortals, the one so idiotically bold or misled that he presumed to speak to Gods of divinity. That roused the core of his being, the heat that permeated his entirety, to attention. For a moment, he could remember what his original strength felt like, it allowed him to pull the vestiges together. To rally his now meager strength to its fullness. The sudden roar, or rather the luminance and birth of his flames pushed, Aureia's proposal into a death-sentence. The harsh light bloomed over the darkness for just a moment. The mortals didn't deserve his emotions; the scene that laid before him, before all the Gods, had decided they were ready to die. Apathetically, he considered them, wary of their tubular weapons. The flames that spewed from him gathered around his right forearm, a barren kite shield of hard-fire forming into existence. "There will be no surrender. They have threatened Gods... their fates will be death," he spoke aloud. He hoisted together all his Godly might and sprinted into action. Forming the shield, coupled with his show of strength was draining. He needed a weapon so he snatched the white blade from the dead warrior nearby and rushed towards the army. He assumed those puncture holes were made from those tubular sticks they were aiming at them. He covered his torso with the shield and ran straight for the horned-headed mortal, sword held at his side, ready for an exterminating decapitation.</s>	<\|message\|>Alasayana, the Huntress Alasayana The hunt begins again --- As she ascended the stairs, the Huntress began pondering the ways she should be greeting the mortals. She didn't wish to scare them, or hurt them - more than once her prodigious strength caused some accidents when she wasn't paying attention. But she was a Goddess, she couldn't casually simply go around saying hello to mortals. There was a proper procedure to these things...hm, loud but friendly introduction? Make them give her an offering of fruit? Maybe ask one to take care of her divine tails. They probably haven't been properly maintained in so long. She could already hear them complaining. Or maybe she should thank them for waking her- Perhaps she had been too optimistic. The chamber they exited from held little interest to her. Its construction was curious, to be sure, but she doubted she'd glean anything from it all things considered. So she would step into the welcoming outside air, gazing over the stony expanse, a far cry from the warm sands and colorful jungles she was used too. The forest far below seemed welcoming, but alas - it seemed she may need to perform her duties as a hunter of evil before she could immerse herself in the luxuries of such a welcoming sight. Two dozen. Maybe a handful of more. Instead of keeping her tails close to her to appear as non-threatening as possible, she'd quickly change her tune the moment the carnage before her became apparent. The four appendages would extend outwards, gazing in all directions as to not let a single human here go unnoticed, not even the dead. A single large humanoid...metal construct? Of some sort lay slain...and near the door to them, was a man. Unmoving, also deceased. It was easy to guess what had happened here. A protector, slain by these before her. So, these people were after this priestess, and likely had far less noble intentions. "I see." Alasayana would inhale. Fury of the righteous sort would begin beating within. "I shall remember your face, warrior, and those stalwart eyes of yours. You did well. Please, rest. I will handle everything else." An exhale as she would offer a small comfort to the already deceased soldiers spirit as she would turn towards the Goddess of Commerce. "Save your breath, Auriea. As much as I loathe to agree with the Sun, I doubt they will listen...and I can not let their apparent transgressions go." With O'Menus taking the golden blade belonging to the warrior, Alasayana would opt for the best weapon she would know how to wield. "If they wish to become prey for challenging the Gods and our apparent benefactors, then so be it. Lopaley protect the priestess." She would turn her attention to the mob before them. Her tails would writhe behind her, the once passive faces upon them snarling, glaring at the red clad soldiers gathered. She would stand before them as O'Menus would begin his rush to their apparent leader. Even if she could no longer sense evil, hostility, lies and the sort of things that bred and fostered evil...she needn't such senses to determine what those before her were - and as a Goddess, she could not be wrong in her judgements. "Know this, mortals! I am Alasayana the Goddess of Hunt and she who judges the guilty and consigns their souls to oblivion!" The Goddess would open her eyes, divine fury burning within. "Stand before me and accept your fate, or Flee! It will not matter. Not a single one of you will leave here alive for your sins!" And thus, her judgement had been given. Guilty. For the first time in a millennia, the Goddess of the hunt, would do so once more. While O'menus would rush towards the apparent leader, she would rush towards the assembled troops. Black, bestial maws each going for a different soldier as they would rip and tear, drag and slam them against the ground or other soldiers as she would rush into the fray.</s>
<\|description\|>Ashte * Gender: Female * Appearance: Extremely pretty... and of absolutely, absurdly average height. Well, it was absolutely average in the distant past. Now it might not be. * Personality: A contradictory sort; to those with her love and favour, Ashte is doting and affectionate, forgiving of their mistakes and willing to give them multiple chances. To her enemies, there is no quarter until their complete defeat; no mercy will be offered until an enemy is crushed beyond the point of being able to rise up again. To those who have neither her love nor her hate, Ashte is reserved and haughty, a proud goddess who expects to be deferred to and loved first. * Domain: Love and War. Of course, in the general sense this also makes her a goddess of fertility and beauty and organisation and such things; as a goddess so closely tied to mortal concepts, she enjoys the fuzziness of the boundary regions between domains. * Abilities: In the old days, Ashte was a goddess who had nearly as many ways to face down her enemies as she did lovers. She could have perfect insight over a battlefield and relay orders with a precision and speed no mortal could hope to match, leading her troops in a perfect dance to confound enemies that would have thought them helpless. Her presence on the battlefield could be a rallying beacon to inspire ability and endeavours beyond normal limitations. Or she could show them all exactly how it was done, and take to the battlefield herself, with nothing more than martial ability and vast divine power. Or, often, all three at once; nothing makes a battle easier than waving a juicy but impregnable target in front of your enemies. In her current state, none of those remain, aside from some thoroughly mortal-achievable but superlative skill at arms. Instead, the remaining facet of Ashte's warlike skills is part of an ability that would allow her to be an army: conjuring and reshaping a scant pair of weapons to hover close around her and fight autonomously, if she doesn't wish to wield one or both herself. Of course, these still have a spark of the divine about them--they cut far more things than normal steel would. As for the other aspect of her domain, she's still extremely pretty. Anything that would permanently interfere with that won't stick. She's quite annoyed at how... immutable her body is right now, however. Some people have particular interests that can't be satisfied this way! It really loses out on regal, divine presence, too, to be so... not huge. * Brief Backstory: Ashte's time as a major deity was rapacious and expansionist, inevitably coming into conflict with those surrounding her followers that refused to be swayed. Those that refused her love could only be treated as suspicion, as having ulterior motives--in such a volatile region, how could anyone that refused to ally or submit be anything but an enemy in waiting Of course, it's quite embarrassing--and obvious, in hindsight--that the real enemy would be someone only feigning adoration and abusing her good graces. Not that she's likely to be much more suspicious of her lovers this time...</s> <\|message\|>O'Menus Hexagonal Chamber - O'Menus O'Menus had dealt with Aureia before, her dealings in treasure and gold trinkets were valuable yet this new haughty side of her was an irritant. 'These Gods mistake themselves to be my equal. This is why tolerance is earned not given.' The heat in his left hand surged with more effort than desired. Containing his ire was especially difficult, so much in fact that he became even tenser, if that was possible. He gave the Gods more leeway than mortals but not much. The core of his existence didn't allow room for disagreements to his wishes. The muscles of his jaw tightened, another sign of his attempts to wrestle down his combative nature. Aureia's words towards the end, which felt to him to be a shot at his actions, folded his arms even tighter against his chest. The contradiction between his desires and actions, sent a wispy flame from his cheek. A quick warning, if nothing else. He rolled his neck and grunted. The horned Goddess's honeyed chiding vexed him into a fit. Who was she to lecture him, in fact, who were they to rebuke his rulings. Even the Gods could die apparently, which meant they could be slain should one supreme deity will it so. 'Refrain yourself. You are weakened with little knowledge of the others' current strength.' Even still, the tips of his left fingers came alive with sputtering flames. And as his eyes met each of them while they prattled on and over the short insignificant life of the mortal, he noticed... rather felt the intent of the Tailed-Goddess. She was an animal ready to pounce. A crude, barbaric thing dreaming that it could face a God King. "Enough," he uttered, even though only a few seconds had passed. It was obvious something had shifted in his demeanor. He was ready for war. His arms came unfurled, each was taunt, his hands were shaped like grasping claws. The left, after massive resolve, blazed to life and crawled up his forearm. The roar of his flames brought a terrible heat with it. "Three chances is too generous for you 'lot. I have neither the patience or desire to wait... I'm doing this my way," he told them, stepping forward, ready to retaliate if necessary. Yet, he paused unexpectedly. His gaze shifting as voices started to parade beyond them all. Then a desperate voice resounded clearly. 'Priestess?' he pondered, looking dispassionate at the frail speck. 'So she's not as insignificant as I first presumed.' O'Menus stepped forward with little malice in his stride. A ruler strode forth with obvious, deliberate intent. Anyone that stood between him and the stairway would cause him to pause but be met with little interest. "We have our answers now," he told the others, heading towards the voices to see what was beyond the Hexagonal Chamber. The closer he came, the lower the flames on his arms died out.</s> <\|message\|>Aureia Aureia, of gold, commerce, wealth,and the far less important, trivial aspects of travel and luck "Eh? Ah, well," Aureia looked down at herself. She should have expected it, but she was caught off guard by the question from the goddess of love. An awfully leading question, at that. It was hard to deny that somehow her appearance had changed; she was smaller and shorter than she once was. Her clothes didn't help much with it, but at least when she groped her own chest, she did still have it, even if that too had gotten… smaller. It didn't seem like there was anything she could do to change her appearance; at her prime, it was not a problem at all to redo her own likeliness on her own whims. Now, even spontaneously changing clothes seemed to be harder than it formerly was. Annoying, but it was still something she could work with. She'd eventually regain her power and do whatever she wanted; maybe she'd even choose to keep this form, who knows. Rallying, she smirked back, lightly bapping Ashte on the head with her parasol. It was still a rude question, after all. "Eh, not really. It's annoying, but there's nothing wrong with being cuter, especially when I'm still beautiful. Who knows, perhaps I might receive even more worshippers this time around?" It didn't seem like O'Menus was simmering down at all, though. That said, it was hard to get the sun god to simmer to begin with, with that inflated ego of his! She sort of understood why he was taking this poorly, but the fit he was throwing was really putting a damper on her reawakening. Really, if she had the supplies, Aureia would already be holding a rebirth celebration party right here, with the other gods and the mortals all invited. Maybe sans sun god. She was sorely tempted to use her parasol again and give him a good, much harder whack with it, before the mortals started banging on the stairwell doors. An interesting development. The mortals of ten thousand years past had a very strange dialect and manner of speaking, but she understood the voices well enough. There it was, the girl was clearly someone to be protected. Aureia did wonder what god she was a priestess of, though. Maybe the entire pantheon, considering the diversity of the sadly small segment of deities that had been reawakened. Aureia was content to remain as she stood and let the mortals come to them. It only seemed natural, a fitting away for the returned gods to receive mortals once more, except the sun god once again thought differently. "This dummy…! He's going to ruin it all, the mortals come to us, not the other way around!" She huffed, and moved after him. Having O'Menus as the mortals' first interaction with the gods was going to bring nothing but trouble.</s> <\|message\|>Lopolay Lopaley Lopaley would take this immediate development seriously. The tone of their voices was not one that would present a sense of comradeship with the priestess. An invading force perhaps? Maybe the priestess had conducted a unceremonial ritual. Was their revival a fluke then? Unwanted by majority but wanted by the few. Questions that would erode at her mind. She would think on them later. For now she had a more immediate concern. "Alasayana, Trineon" The Time goddess would say as she turned to face the pair of gods. "May I carry this priestess." She would say kneeling before them both to gently lift the priestess into a sitting position even with their unconsious state.. In a manner more fit for a mortal then a god, she was handling the priestess with careful care. She didn't truely know how 'durable' a human was. So treating them like hourglass seemed appropriate. She was trying to present herself as an individual that did not want conflict. She also assumed that trying to struggle with a feverish person in the way gods did was just not appropriate at the moment. "We are likely going to need to have as much mobility as possible if there is a battle afoot. Your agility is best when your not protecting someone. So please. I beseech your trust. To allow me to care for this priestess for the time being. At least till we are among friends. Then you may resume your care of her." The time goddess implored the Hunter. She knew better then to get on the bad-side of a god of the hunt. Even with all the time in eternity. She didn't want to spend it having to run away. "And you Trineon, You would be better helping in the fighting would you not?" She would continue. Saying to the other god. AS she slowly got the priestess up onto her back. Carrying her carefully. Wrapping the sleeping girls arms around herself. She was effectively carrying a girl that was a little bigger then her but she could manage. She had helped in many a laborious task. She was no god of strength, nor was her strength particularly abhuman. But her endurance was second to none. Once the girl was on her back. She would make sure to hold the sleeper close. "There there sleeping priestess. Don't worry. You have plenty of time left yet." She would say as she would look at the two gods and then sigh as she looked back at the girl. "I'll use my power to slow down her time. So we'll have longer to get her proper attention." She'd say to the pair. As the gears in her golden-clockwork eye would start to whir. As she used her power upon the girl to slow the fever. To hopefully sty its progression for the time being. @VitaVitaAR@Rune_Alchemist</s> <\|message\|>Alasayana, the Huntress Alasayana The hunt begins again - Unknown room --- Poor girl - but such was human fragility. Alasayana would allow Trineon to inspect the girl, the god of the oceans likely far better with healing than she was. She would have continued idly watching Menus, least his temper boil over like that of the desert wastelands scorching the sands, but Auriea said something much more helpful - humans. More of them. Above, likely outside whatever chamber this was. The Huntress would smile lightly at that. "Mhm. Worry not. I have no intention of causing undue injury. I was having a nice dream though...I think." Not that she would get very far before a commotion was heard. The loud noise offended her ears quite a bit - and the shouting...some sort of commotion? The words that were heard made it clear the humans were obviously concerned for this girl. A priestess, hm? Of whom, was the priestess of then? To summon all of them like this...this girl was proving to be more and more special by the second. It seemed O'menus was of a similar mindset, though he was reacting far more like she'd expect a tyrant too. Before she ran off, though...Lopaley's voice met her ears. A sound argument, but that didn't mean she liked it. "I see no reason why a conflict is a forgone conclusion." The goddess would reply with a frown. "It sounds like they are merely concerned for the girls safety. Returning her to them as she is will be the best thing we can do." She'd assert, though her eyes would follow Menus as he left. "...but given that ones disposition, I may need to restrain him before he hurts the mortals." The Huntress would sigh in a mildly tired fashion. "Very well, I'll allow you to look after her, but assuming they are not hostile, we attempt to return her to the humans first." She'd turn to leave, tails gently lifting the girl into Lopaley's arms as she'd turn to leave. So she would follow the others out, a purposeful, determined stride, tails tucking close to her body.</s>	<\|message\|>Ashte "Why would I ever be the one to disapprove of something cute?" the horned goddess asked, likewise making her way towards the clamour. So, the feverish girl was a priestess of some sort? Oh, that was interesting; it had been obvious she must have had something to do with their revival just from the entire scene... hm, that probably explained the fever, too. It had to be quite draining, awakening dead gods from their eternal slumber, mustn't it? Ah, she'd have to make sure to pamper the poor thing once they acquired more resources. Well, if she hadn't intentionally picked them out from all the possibilities. Not that she'd say it to his face--really, like any halfway reasonable person, she wouldn't say anything to his face--but O'Menus was simply impossible to deal with. Like he was the only god with ambitions of rulership--if you could even call what he'd done ruling--or that the world required him for sunlight. No, but there was no point revisiting old irritations yet... just a note to punish the girl appropriately if she'd picked that hothead. Well, hopefully these mortals didn't want anything too problematic, their current state wasn't up to snuff...</s>
<\|description\|>Ashte * Gender: Female * Appearance: Extremely pretty... and of absolutely, absurdly average height. Well, it was absolutely average in the distant past. Now it might not be. * Personality: A contradictory sort; to those with her love and favour, Ashte is doting and affectionate, forgiving of their mistakes and willing to give them multiple chances. To her enemies, there is no quarter until their complete defeat; no mercy will be offered until an enemy is crushed beyond the point of being able to rise up again. To those who have neither her love nor her hate, Ashte is reserved and haughty, a proud goddess who expects to be deferred to and loved first. * Domain: Love and War. Of course, in the general sense this also makes her a goddess of fertility and beauty and organisation and such things; as a goddess so closely tied to mortal concepts, she enjoys the fuzziness of the boundary regions between domains. * Abilities: In the old days, Ashte was a goddess who had nearly as many ways to face down her enemies as she did lovers. She could have perfect insight over a battlefield and relay orders with a precision and speed no mortal could hope to match, leading her troops in a perfect dance to confound enemies that would have thought them helpless. Her presence on the battlefield could be a rallying beacon to inspire ability and endeavours beyond normal limitations. Or she could show them all exactly how it was done, and take to the battlefield herself, with nothing more than martial ability and vast divine power. Or, often, all three at once; nothing makes a battle easier than waving a juicy but impregnable target in front of your enemies. In her current state, none of those remain, aside from some thoroughly mortal-achievable but superlative skill at arms. Instead, the remaining facet of Ashte's warlike skills is part of an ability that would allow her to be an army: conjuring and reshaping a scant pair of weapons to hover close around her and fight autonomously, if she doesn't wish to wield one or both herself. Of course, these still have a spark of the divine about them--they cut far more things than normal steel would. As for the other aspect of her domain, she's still extremely pretty. Anything that would permanently interfere with that won't stick. She's quite annoyed at how... immutable her body is right now, however. Some people have particular interests that can't be satisfied this way! It really loses out on regal, divine presence, too, to be so... not huge. * Brief Backstory: Ashte's time as a major deity was rapacious and expansionist, inevitably coming into conflict with those surrounding her followers that refused to be swayed. Those that refused her love could only be treated as suspicion, as having ulterior motives--in such a volatile region, how could anyone that refused to ally or submit be anything but an enemy in waiting Of course, it's quite embarrassing--and obvious, in hindsight--that the real enemy would be someone only feigning adoration and abusing her good graces. Not that she's likely to be much more suspicious of her lovers this time...</s> <\|message\|>Aureia Aureia, of gold, commerce, wealth,and the far less important, trivial aspects of travel and luck The door at the top of the staircase was a very sturdy looking barrier. The fact that it had been dented meant that whatever the mortals were using to try and breach it was a very powerful weapon, indeed. More intriguing, though, was the way the doors slid open as she approached it, but even that became of little interest compared to what the open door revealed. Like the mortals before her, Aureia had to take a pause to take in the enormity of the scene in front of her. Her eyes narrowed as she observed the blood and gore, the number of dead and living, and their equipment. It seemed, even ten thousand years later, there would always be armor and swords, however unusual. The strange tube-like devices in their hands were another thing entirely, though. They had been shooting volleys at the door—where were the siege engines that could do damage to such a strong door? It was entirely possible that what they wielded were strange staves, and they had been firing volleys of spells at the door, though if that were the case, then she must be very weak indeed, if she couldn't detect the magic. Her eyes drifted to the carnage on the ground. A lopsided battle and a heroic stand had occurred here. In the past, the knowledge of such parties would have been trivial to her, but here, she only had her eyes to work with—who are these two parties of mortals, and more importantly, which group was affiliated with the priestess or had otherwise summoned the gods? By color palette alone, she had to assume the white-clad priestess was more likely to be familiar with the fallen knight than the crimson-armored soldiers. As the patron of commerce, though, she knew better than to assume, and instead contented herself for the moment to observe the exchange between the commander and his subordinate, finding it amusing. She took the time to pick her own brain on how she'd introduce herself, vocalizing her thoughts at the same time. "Hmm… what should I say? It's been ten thousand years. Maybe something quick, since there's so many people. Maybe 'Hello, mortal'? But that's so uninspired," she muttered, before realizing she was being addressed, and rudely, at that. "Oh. Ahem. Greetings, mortal. Oh. Oh my, oh dear. You mortals can't be serious. You wouldn't mind repeating that again, would you?" Fake friendliness filled the tone of her voice as she processed the gall of the man's statement. She'd give him the benefit of the doubt, it was ten thousand years and all, maybe it was some strange slang, because she was pretty sure the man had just tried to order around the divine under the authority of some mortal pretty boy. A pretty bad first impression, all things considered. Surely they weren't…? Oh, they were doubling down. Aureia had been in a good mood from being reawakened, but threatening her and insulting a fellow goddess –one that she respected-- in such an impudent way was a very effective way to ruin that. "I am Aureia, goddess of wealth and commerce. And travel and luck, but that is far less important. That 'beastkin' you see there is the Goddess of Hunting and Judgment. By what insolence do you and your 'holy' emperor presume to make a mockery of the divine and order us around?" She shifted her umbrella forwards, pointing it directly at the face of the red armored commander. It had taken on a dangerous appearance; the tip had morphed into a golden spike, and a single spoke along the edge had transformed into a long, thin razor along the length of the umbrella. She gave them a polite smile. Still riding some of her good mood, she gave them one last chance. She doubted the rest of her fellow gods would be as forgiving and wait for their response, but whatever. "How about I offer a counter proposal? Surrender and submit to our judgment, or die."</s> <\|message\|>O'Menus Hexagonal Chamber - O'Menus The scene before him was of a different kind than he was use to. The viscera, strewn about organs and splattering of blood, the desperate death-prone bodies; most gripping or squeezing onto their last vestiges of mortality was typically ashes where he dispensed his ordinance. A particularly damaged warrior, filled with puncture holes and stabbed by swords, held his cold gaze the longest. 'Useless specks, even killing is a messy deed for them... Though that weapon looks valuable.' He fixed his eyes onto the stupidest of the armored-mortals, the one so idiotically bold or misled that he presumed to speak to Gods of divinity. That roused the core of his being, the heat that permeated his entirety, to attention. For a moment, he could remember what his original strength felt like, it allowed him to pull the vestiges together. To rally his now meager strength to its fullness. The sudden roar, or rather the luminance and birth of his flames pushed, Aureia's proposal into a death-sentence. The harsh light bloomed over the darkness for just a moment. The mortals didn't deserve his emotions; the scene that laid before him, before all the Gods, had decided they were ready to die. Apathetically, he considered them, wary of their tubular weapons. The flames that spewed from him gathered around his right forearm, a barren kite shield of hard-fire forming into existence. "There will be no surrender. They have threatened Gods... their fates will be death," he spoke aloud. He hoisted together all his Godly might and sprinted into action. Forming the shield, coupled with his show of strength was draining. He needed a weapon so he snatched the white blade from the dead warrior nearby and rushed towards the army. He assumed those puncture holes were made from those tubular sticks they were aiming at them. He covered his torso with the shield and ran straight for the horned-headed mortal, sword held at his side, ready for an exterminating decapitation.</s> <\|message\|>Alasayana, the Huntress Alasayana The hunt begins again --- As she ascended the stairs, the Huntress began pondering the ways she should be greeting the mortals. She didn't wish to scare them, or hurt them - more than once her prodigious strength caused some accidents when she wasn't paying attention. But she was a Goddess, she couldn't casually simply go around saying hello to mortals. There was a proper procedure to these things...hm, loud but friendly introduction? Make them give her an offering of fruit? Maybe ask one to take care of her divine tails. They probably haven't been properly maintained in so long. She could already hear them complaining. Or maybe she should thank them for waking her- Perhaps she had been too optimistic. The chamber they exited from held little interest to her. Its construction was curious, to be sure, but she doubted she'd glean anything from it all things considered. So she would step into the welcoming outside air, gazing over the stony expanse, a far cry from the warm sands and colorful jungles she was used too. The forest far below seemed welcoming, but alas - it seemed she may need to perform her duties as a hunter of evil before she could immerse herself in the luxuries of such a welcoming sight. Two dozen. Maybe a handful of more. Instead of keeping her tails close to her to appear as non-threatening as possible, she'd quickly change her tune the moment the carnage before her became apparent. The four appendages would extend outwards, gazing in all directions as to not let a single human here go unnoticed, not even the dead. A single large humanoid...metal construct? Of some sort lay slain...and near the door to them, was a man. Unmoving, also deceased. It was easy to guess what had happened here. A protector, slain by these before her. So, these people were after this priestess, and likely had far less noble intentions. "I see." Alasayana would inhale. Fury of the righteous sort would begin beating within. "I shall remember your face, warrior, and those stalwart eyes of yours. You did well. Please, rest. I will handle everything else." An exhale as she would offer a small comfort to the already deceased soldiers spirit as she would turn towards the Goddess of Commerce. "Save your breath, Auriea. As much as I loathe to agree with the Sun, I doubt they will listen...and I can not let their apparent transgressions go." With O'Menus taking the golden blade belonging to the warrior, Alasayana would opt for the best weapon she would know how to wield. "If they wish to become prey for challenging the Gods and our apparent benefactors, then so be it. Lopaley protect the priestess." She would turn her attention to the mob before them. Her tails would writhe behind her, the once passive faces upon them snarling, glaring at the red clad soldiers gathered. She would stand before them as O'Menus would begin his rush to their apparent leader. Even if she could no longer sense evil, hostility, lies and the sort of things that bred and fostered evil...she needn't such senses to determine what those before her were - and as a Goddess, she could not be wrong in her judgements. "Know this, mortals! I am Alasayana the Goddess of Hunt and she who judges the guilty and consigns their souls to oblivion!" The Goddess would open her eyes, divine fury burning within. "Stand before me and accept your fate, or Flee! It will not matter. Not a single one of you will leave here alive for your sins!" And thus, her judgement had been given. Guilty. For the first time in a millennia, the Goddess of the hunt, would do so once more. While O'menus would rush towards the apparent leader, she would rush towards the assembled troops. Black, bestial maws each going for a different soldier as they would rip and tear, drag and slam them against the ground or other soldiers as she would rush into the fray.</s>	<\|message\|>Ashte ... was it really okay to let these two make first impressions? Maybe she and Aureia should run ahead of everyone else next time? Not that Ashte had anything against fighting--that would be completely ridiculous--but there was more to winning a war than killing everything that stood in your path. Knowing thy enemy, for instance, which was really not helped if you murdered everyone that even looked at you funny. Right now, she didn't feel like they could take on an entire army either. Well, the choice was out of her hands and at least this spared her the need to engage in making some overly flower declaration. That was something the white-haired goddess had never been too good at. Pillow talk? Rousing speeches? Those were fine but just... acting pompous on demand with no purpose to it? Where was the fun in that? It was a fortunate time to discover that her instincts were still working, her second shield forming as one of the red-clad soldiers pointed his tubular stick at her, the projectile embedding into the holy metal with a resounding clang. That was... unpleasantly close, she would have to pay more attention to fighting mortals until her power was back up to spec. And pay attention to this one she did, darting up to this one outside of the rampaging huntress's path, a cheerful smile on her face as her arms snapped into place around his. Twist, and... Oh, this was an interesting weapon, wasn't it? Ah, if she had enough of them, and faithful soldiers... the tactics that she could pull off with perfect battlefield awareness and a ranged implement such as this. It wouldn't be as fun or exciting as a pitched battlefield but being able to eliminate specific targets in the dead of night... She slammed the butt off the weapon into the disoriented soldier a few more times, knocking him to the ground. At least that way, they'd have someone to interrogate afterwards. Then, shields ready to intercept if anyone looked in her direction, Ashte scanned the battlefield... ah, that one had an even bigger tube? Best stop him first. One, two... their armour was unsurprisingly resilient to their own weapons, but it seemed multiple shots in the same spot could still go through. If you could do it. If the weapons had changed this much, how had warfare? Oh, this would be exciting.</s>
<\|description\|>Ashte * Gender: Female * Appearance: Extremely pretty... and of absolutely, absurdly average height. Well, it was absolutely average in the distant past. Now it might not be. * Personality: A contradictory sort; to those with her love and favour, Ashte is doting and affectionate, forgiving of their mistakes and willing to give them multiple chances. To her enemies, there is no quarter until their complete defeat; no mercy will be offered until an enemy is crushed beyond the point of being able to rise up again. To those who have neither her love nor her hate, Ashte is reserved and haughty, a proud goddess who expects to be deferred to and loved first. * Domain: Love and War. Of course, in the general sense this also makes her a goddess of fertility and beauty and organisation and such things; as a goddess so closely tied to mortal concepts, she enjoys the fuzziness of the boundary regions between domains. * Abilities: In the old days, Ashte was a goddess who had nearly as many ways to face down her enemies as she did lovers. She could have perfect insight over a battlefield and relay orders with a precision and speed no mortal could hope to match, leading her troops in a perfect dance to confound enemies that would have thought them helpless. Her presence on the battlefield could be a rallying beacon to inspire ability and endeavours beyond normal limitations. Or she could show them all exactly how it was done, and take to the battlefield herself, with nothing more than martial ability and vast divine power. Or, often, all three at once; nothing makes a battle easier than waving a juicy but impregnable target in front of your enemies. In her current state, none of those remain, aside from some thoroughly mortal-achievable but superlative skill at arms. Instead, the remaining facet of Ashte's warlike skills is part of an ability that would allow her to be an army: conjuring and reshaping a scant pair of weapons to hover close around her and fight autonomously, if she doesn't wish to wield one or both herself. Of course, these still have a spark of the divine about them--they cut far more things than normal steel would. As for the other aspect of her domain, she's still extremely pretty. Anything that would permanently interfere with that won't stick. She's quite annoyed at how... immutable her body is right now, however. Some people have particular interests that can't be satisfied this way! It really loses out on regal, divine presence, too, to be so... not huge. * Brief Backstory: Ashte's time as a major deity was rapacious and expansionist, inevitably coming into conflict with those surrounding her followers that refused to be swayed. Those that refused her love could only be treated as suspicion, as having ulterior motives--in such a volatile region, how could anyone that refused to ally or submit be anything but an enemy in waiting Of course, it's quite embarrassing--and obvious, in hindsight--that the real enemy would be someone only feigning adoration and abusing her good graces. Not that she's likely to be much more suspicious of her lovers this time...</s> <\|message\|>Moridax, Lord of the Underworld Moridax, Lord of the Underworld --- Screaming. Agony. Oh, well, that might have been the last thing she heard as she worked on paperwork in the Underworld and then... Nothing. Silence... And then, a long time later... Talking? Where? No, she couldn't touch anything. Rather, she felt rather... Disembodied. She wondered to herself, why? Her vision felt... Hazy. Eyes weren't something she was use to having for a long while. When was the last time she took a form that had eyes? Hundreds of years? Thousands? Still, she must force her vision to come. The voices that was near her spoke many things but she had difficulty discerning what they were actually saying. A small bit of her vision was coming to her now. In fact, it seemed her sense were coming more to her. Then, there was bashing on a door and.... Then fighting. Soon, she could move her body. Or, perhaps... A Spiritual Body? As her vision came to, she noticed that her body wasn't the most corporeal thing. Moridax examined what she was. Her hands, or what would constitute as hands were skeletal looking... Rather pretty Phalanges at least. "I need a body." She confirmed to herself. If there was fighting going on, than perhaps there was a body she could use. "That way then." The spirit goddess said to herself as she floated towards the exit. The skeletal ghost was mostly transparent with a light cloudy haze around the outlines. Exiting the building, she took a look around. There were a number of people, living people at least. There was a greater number of corpses just laying around. One of these seemed to be in rather good condition. Well, not that the condition of the body mattered, but she'd rather her inherited clothing be in good condition. Or, perhaps, inherited armor. Regarless, the ghostly form of Moridax floated forward towards the corpse and inhabited it. Everyone nearby would notice as the body started to violently shake a few times and start to stand up on it's own. It made some minor, unworldly movements as it seemed a wave of struggle wracked the the body going out from the center of the body and the head to the limbs until it ended up standing on it's own. A small ooze started to leak from the bottom half of the armor and, somehow, left no mark on the armor as it fled away from the body a small bit. "Haaa. Stuff armor isn't my first choice of outfit." It was a voice that definitely didn't suit the figure that probably once inhabited the armor. "Helmets are stuffy. Can't have this." The figure got a grip on the helmet with both hands and removed it. Beneath was the head of a cute blonde hair girl with elfen ears and golden eyes. "Fwah! Much better." The armor was a little too big for her figure now... If the body had fit the armor previously than the thought of what that ooze might be was... "So many people died here. The paperwork for this must be obnoxious. Those poor skeletons in the administration..." She muttered to herself before paying attention to the others there now. There were a couple of faces she actually recognized. Gods. One particular goddess that liked to hang around the Underworld with her every now and then, "Oh! Is that Alasayana?" She questioned, looking at her and then look at the other gods and goddesses to see who she recognized. Truthfully, her look at the moment was completely different from what she had looked like in the past so it wouldn't be too surprising if no one recognized her.</s> <\|message\|>Alasayana, the Huntress Alasayana --- Flora, was her name then hm? "Flora...a quite a pretty name." Alasayana would idly comment, ignoring the protests of the man being tortured as well as Ashte being...Ashte. "Very well. Your punishment for waking me from a nap. I command thee to be my new servant, specifically my tail-" Before she could finish giving her judgement however, they were quite readily interrupted...by some sort of ghastly thing. Some demon or something was possessing a corpse! How absurd! Another trick of these impertinent fools? She had though they at least honorable, but this...! "Are they employing even demons or some sort of undead?" Alasayana would respond with a growl. She would tolerate no demon or creature of evil in her presence. Alasayana would ready her tails for another fight, narrowing her eyes at Mori, not recognizing her.</s> <\|message\|>O'Menus O'Menus --- O'Menus had lost interest in the manic death cry of the brain-addled soldier. For no reason in particular he actually allowed the mortal to finish, though he stared at him with indifference. He took quick note of certain words, factions, and apparent passions before pulling the white sword from the man's ankle. The soldier's blood fell away as if fleeing the surface. Again he glanced at this blade, feeling more and more impressed by it. He'd decided it was his now. Without another word to the soon-to-be-dead man, O'Menus strode away thinking that execution by fire would be too comical considering his dying words. Sweeping over the Gods hanging around the priestess, he noticed a skittering goop of green. It went from one stiff corpse to the next until finally the Feral Goddess spotted the graveyard guest. "Could be a Divine," he offered forward without mirth, tensing his hand around the pommel of the white sword. "Even still, this is becoming annoying." An agitated flame danced up his forearm, some shreds of strength blooming inside.</s> <\|message\|>Trineon Trineon Lord of Rivers, Lakes, and Oceans The young girl barely managed to say her name, Flora. A cute name for a cute girl, though it was a little on the nose if this girl was the Flower Priestess those soldiers had mentioned. But what her true identity didn't matter to Trineon as much as her welfare. Unlike O'Menus, Trineon had no interest in torturing the surviving soldier. However, the torture did seem to be working as the soldier regained consciousness before spouting a bunch of things. He dared to call Gods heretics? And we would burn for it? The vengeful side of Trineon, the side he tried to hide, came to focus. A scowl formed on Trineon's face as he stood up. Trineon remembered in that instance that one of the duty of the Gods was to punish wicked mortals. So he walked over to soldier, anger simmering just under his young visage. Before he could do anything, O'Menus pulled the blade out of the mortal's ankle. He made a pained sound as the blood began to pour out of his wound. Trineon was of the mind that they should let the soldier bleed out, a slow death for one who dared threaten the Gods. As Trineon turned away from the suffering mortal, out of the corner of his eye he saw one of the corpses begin to move. Trineon took a few steps backward, as goo dripped out of the body. Necromancy had always upset Trineon as he viewed it as going against nature, so the sight of the dead rising put him on edge. For a second Trineon wondered if there had been a necromancer among their attackers, but everyone who they had fought now laid on the ground. As Trineon looked at the floor, he saw a blade there. Picking it up, he raised it toward the moving corpse. What Trineon didn't expect was for the corpse to remove its helmet, revealing the face of a beautiful girl. This gave him pause, as did the fact that she recognized Alasayana. However there was no recognition in the Goddess's eyes as she asked the corpse what it was. Trineon gripped his blade tighter as he realized that it didn't matter what kind of creature it was. A walking corpse was a walking corpse. It needed to be defeated. "I don't know why you have risen from the dead, foul creature. But you are in the presence of Gods, Gods who will not abide an abomination," Trineon stated with resolve. With his blade still pointed at the corpse, Trineon began to walk toward it, his gaze like a razor blade slicing through the undead thing.</s> <\|message\|>Aureia Aureia, of gold, commerce, wealth,and the far less important, trivial aspects of travel and luck O'menus wasn't alone in losing interest in the injured soldier. If he didn't want to play ball with Aureia's interrogation, then he was all but useless. She listened to his words and absorbed the information she needed, yes, but she knew the words of a misguided fanatic when she heard one. Yes, letting him to bleed out on the ground would be a fitting death for a mortal that dared to challenge and belittle the gods. Finally, she could turn and lavish her attention on the waiting priestess, like the rest of her companions already had been. Except, before she could do so, yet another thing happened that precluded her attention. Standing up, like the other gods, a certain activity among the corpses of the dead mortals caught her eye. Messing with the dead was generally a taboo even among the gods, as already exemplified by the reactions from Alayasana and Trineon—O'Menus was just being as abrasive as ever, yet something about the energy she was feeling made Aureia think the god of the sun had the right of the matter. She frowned as one of the corpses began to rise, and then… talk. Yes, there was something strange about this being's energy. Familiar? Yes. Divine? Maybe. She gave the being a critical gaze before something clicked. "Eh, haven't I had tea with you before?"</s>	<\|message\|>Ashte Finally freeing the priestess to allow her to breathe--that was a pretty name, and Ashte had always been fond of a nice flower arrangement... fufufu. Of course, like everyone else, she was rather distracted by the dead person getting back up and becoming a... cute girl? Oh, that was nice! Not the getting back up part, as fun as that could be for a time, she much preferred that defeated enemies stayed that way... There was definitely something nigglingly familiar about her. Skeletons and administration...? Aureia talking about tea parties...? Ashte was, after all, quite a social figure, and someone who made sure a lot of people died had always had a good reason to maintain some sort of relationshpi with whoever took over after that point. Not that her response would probably help Trineon or Alasayana work it out: "Hey! You've been holding out on me, if you could look like this!" It seemed O'Menus was the only one paying attention to their fanatical captive.</s>
<\|description\|>Aureia Gender: Female Appearance: A bit short for a patron of such grand and intoxicating hallmarks of society, but if the consequence of being revived after ten thousand years of death is looking a bit cuter than she used to and having difficulty reaching top-shelf alcohol, then she'll take it while silently mourning her lost height. Her dark, simple hair gives her some measure of contrast against her golden eyes and often golden clothing; despite her capricious tendency to change clothing and style, they often seem to remain the same color. Personality: Luck and fortune can be a fickle thing, and so is the patron of such aspects. While her personality itself is stable, her opinions and preferences change day by day on a whim; those she favors as friends may be enemies the day after, and then friends again shortly after. It would also be no surprise, then, that the goddess of commerce and wealth is quite… greedy, and will look to her own self interests. All that glitters is indeed gold. Rumor has it that the touch of a god named after gold can indeed turn things into gold, such is her lust for wealth and treasure. Aureia is by no means a hostile or unforgiving god, though. At heart, she's a sweet, amiable person; whimsical and sometimes excitable sure, but playful nonetheless. She'll still stab you in the back with a smile, if it's to her benefit. After all, she is still the god of Commerce, perfidious Aureia. Domain: Commerce & Wealth, Traveling, and Luck Abilities: Fortune favors the bold, or so they say, and who better to dispense fortune than the plucky and bold goddess of wealth, luck, and traveling? Wherever she goes, and whoever she blesses, those around her will always find favorable circumstances and conditions, and fortune and luck are her personal sword and shield. Under her guidance, the seas are always calm and the winds fair as you sail the ocean blue; the forests amiable for your carriage to pass; the odds tilted in your balance in even the direst of battles; the art of business, ever given, and ever gentle. One can travel in many ways. One might, perhaps, travel by land, sea, or even air and beyond, using many multitudes of different vehicles available to mankind through the ages. It would be deeply remiss, then, for the goddess of traveling to be unfamiliar with any such means of travel. With her divine knowledge and skill, any means of transport—any vehicle—are not beyond her wisdom and ability to personally use or guide. Contracts are sacred, and agreements must be binding. Who better but to sanctify them than by the watchful eye of the godly patron of commerce & wealth? Her divine power binds any contract that she wishes to sanctify in such a way that they become sacred and inviolable, under penalty of swift and celestial retribution. At the peak of her power, her sacred intervention could easily push an impossible or even intangible contract into the realms of reality. Brief Backstory: Representing perhaps some of the most important facets in any organized society, Aureia was a well-known god. Once worshipped by kings and usurpers, merchants and scammers, and pilgrims and bandits alike, she was a goddess that was followed by many across the world's lands during her time. In times of great need, when a deal needed to be hammered out, or when one just wanted to travel to the next village over, she was there for the people. To her, it was a great game in the board of life that was the mortal world. With so many that prayed to her, so many conflicting wishes, how could but one goddess intervene in it all? No, as the god of luck, things must be arbitrary. With the flick of a wrist, she would determine the paths and fate of men, cities, even countries, on a whim... or with a sizeable enough offering. She was still the god of commerce, after all. Seeing nations grow was a drug; in a way, she could live vicariously through their wealth. It just would have been nice if she could have shepherded more civilizations before her demise.</s> <\|message\|>O'Menus Hexagonal Chamber - O'Menus The tiny itch in his brain, rather the jewel of his being had begun to subside with the hardening of his memories. The, what he felt was unnatural, widening of his eyes begun to narrow with apathy. With a loose sense of understanding that he forced to mean everything and nothing. The questions did not matter, though plenty were popping through the light haze of his mental. He glanced around at the room slowly, took in his surroundings. There were others with him; he cared for none of them. He inhaled deeply, searching for that preternatural organ he called his own, and felt a sliver of heat rise within. The alien wetness of his skin and hair dried in tails of gray smoke off his ebon-skin. The gold bands tight around his arms were olden, so he ripped them off with more effort than expected. That pulled a loud tsk' from him, 'Disgusting. What is this madness?' he snarled. Fortunately the loose, wide sash holding onto his dark airy trousers, were frayed but acceptable. His straw sandals however were disposable, so he slid out of them and continued up the stairs to the center of the room. There, at the middle of everything, he had come to discover was a pale girl, obviously ill and horrendously mortal, he presumed. Without a moments hesitation or thought, he strolled up to the prone girl, drew his foot back, and aimed to kick the poor thing awake. He hoped that his weakened strength could still break a few ribs. 'I demand answers!' he thought, the extent of his extreme displeasure appearing as a downward pull on his lips. "Wake up!" he growled.</s> <\|message\|>Lopolay The Clock of Eternity has already moved, but its overseer has returned to her post - Hexagonal Chamber The drowsiness of waking up from the sleep of eons would not be lost on this goddess whom had been around since the dawn of creation itself. The gaps in her memory concerned her immediately but what concerned her more was the location, The Time. The Place. She needed to get out to see the heavens to properly analyze how much time had passed. She couldn't focus unless she knew just how many seconds. She had counted within her dream, and that gave her some comfort. But if she was even off by 15 seconds. She would be upset. Paranoid and rather jumpy to everything around her. Thus she wished to correct herself. Her entire attention however was brought to bear when she noticed that this chamber was not for her. This was not one of her rare temples. This was not one of her scarce worshippers. More gods were present. She was not alone. That concerned her. She had felt a great deal of her power had been taken from her. Lost into the ethers of time. She could claw it back. But it would take far more effort then she would like. She did however had enough power left to deal with a potential travesty. The energy within her body would pool upwards to the whirring gears of her eye. The Gears inside starting to shift and whir, as everything around her started to appear slower. She had not changed the time of her environment. Only her own Time. As she would step forward as the kick would be moving forwards towards the collapsed girls ribs. She would move forwards. She didn't have much strength, Nor did she know the girls circumstance. But she was alive again. She wasn't about to let one of her more anger prone brethen kill their benefactor now. Was she? She would fall in front of the kick. it was the most she could do. She couldn't push the girl out of the way in time afterall. And any injury she herself would sustain wouldn't last... She would effectively use her own body as a punching bag for the anger of another of her kin. She had her thoughts. She had her questions. But she was motivated by the fact that breaking the girl would not save them any time.</s> <\|message\|>Alasayana, the Huntress Alasayana The hunt begins again - Unknown room --- Really, maybe she would have preferred to stay dreaming...yet all the same, consciousnesses would soon flow into her mind once more. A voice, calling for help. At one point, the cries of someone asking for help would be all she needed to assist someone, so long as it was a heartfelt, truthful plea, she would never turn down someone. Even now...who would she be if she didn't accept. She didn't know these things of course, as in the moment she remembered nothing as she floated there in that cool wet, embrace. So she would find herself standing in this hexagonal room, the ceiling seeming quite high to one of her stature, but that was less important than everything, and everyone else in the room. Inscriptions. Ancient, from the look of them. Rings upon rings steadily becoming larger as they extended outwards. Whatever did they mean? Hm, she was no scholar but she couldn't help but to be curious. But...who exactly even was- "Mhm..." Memories. A desert. Warm and inviting. Harsh and unforgiving. A jungle. Wet, muggy, and filled with so many beautiful plants. A number of faceless people. Beasts hunted, large and formidable in stature. Corrupt humans, muderous or wishing harm upon the innocent. Criminals, hunting and giving judgement from divine. Try as she might search her memories, however brief she did so, she had no idea how she got here, within this room. Annoying, really. Did some other deity pull her here somehow? She didn't feel anything evil or worthy of - In fact, she felt...rather weak, come to think of it. Well this was disturbing. Did some trickster god steal her strength? Sap her of her divine power? Hm. She was busy thinking, she didn't entirely see the fool attacking what was likely the only person that could give them answers. If it was her old self, she could have just jumped in and handled it herself, but it seemed as though another had that covered already, so she would take a more defensive posture. "Hmph..." Alasayana would approach the sleeping girl as that weird looking one would block the blow from the irritable looking man. Sleeping on the cold hard ground like this could not be comfortable, nor good for ones health...so instead she'd give her what was obviously going to be the best bed of her existence. The four furry tails that extended from her waist would wrap around the girl, gently enveloping her in a warm embrace. "I don't know you, but know this - I will not abide you or anyone else attacking an unarmed civilian. If you wish a hunt to sate bloodlust or anger, there are plenty of beasts out there I am sure." Ah, she felt so naked without her sword. Tsk tsk, and she couldn't feel anything about this place either...just what had happened?</s> <\|message\|>Ashte Ashte Ah, oblivion... strange dreams, dreams that seemed much less fleshy and visceral than anything that belonged in her head, but dreams nonetheless. And then they were taken away, replaced by damp and wet... like so many, the Goddess of Love would rather return to her befuddling dreams than deal with all the hassle of waking up, and sought to burrow into the cold floor some more. Eugh, so cold, so hard, so lacking in other bodies and life... Some form of instinct flared to life at the sound of violence, though, and as the girl was rising to a sitting and then standing position, an elaborate bronze weapon stabbed down into the floor before her. Nearly the height of a man, curved outwards, and with a sharpened axe-like blade, the oversized khopesh looked like great craftsmanship, even inlaid with mother of pearl and with a finely detailed handle of sandalwood... but it was just a creation of her memories. And distinctly less than the veritable battalion that Ashte now remembered responding to unpleasant interruptions with. Huh. Still, it was one weapon, so there was no harm in keeping it close at hand... her approach up to the platform was cautious, this unknown room was far from a palace or other civilised setting, so who knew what danger it presented? But... she couldn't help but relax on seeing what it was. One unconscious girl, and a bunch of gods that she knew, or at least knew of--one advantage, one supposed, to empire building was the many people you got to meet and that your subjects kept telling you about. "So... fancy meeting you here, huh?" Ashte asked the others, reaching down to pick up the time goddess and plant her back on her feet. Nobody seemed too much of a threat, but the sword was still there... and besides, there were better things to start thinking about. Four cute girls, a cute guy, and one grumpy one who could maybe do the brooding archetype if he calmed down. She could work with this.</s>	<\|message\|>Aureia Aureia, of gold, commerce, wealth,and the far less important, trivial aspects of travel and luck It was a strange feeling, to exist, to think again after an eternity of ten thousand years. Already, the dreams of millennia past began to fade, if they could even be described as such. Perhaps, after all this time, others might have wished to return to the illusion of comfort in oblivion, but the Goddess of Wealth, the embodiment of the mortal coil of materialism, would accept nothing less than the bite of reality. Reality, it seemed, was harsh as usual. To blink back into existence was one thing, but to blink open into the unknown was disconcerting, even for a god. The room before her was an unknown; to stand before the unknown without the empires of fortune that followed her was... not fun. And was it her, or was she smaller than before? Nonetheless, she found herself standing, anchored, she realized, to some degree of comfort and familiarity. Familiar gods—and familiar things, as she examined the golden umbrella in her hands, and the matching robes that she wore. But of the six others in the chamber, one was mortal. A follower? A devout? Answers would be nice, but there were certain ways to go about getting them. Kicks and punches were just bad business. "Oh, it's the God of the Sun. It's probably been a while, huh? Eheh, I see how well you value our past relationship by how you treat my namesake," she gestured to his trashed bracelets, the goddess of wealth half-tempted to fetch them for herself. "Eh, I'm getting ahead of myself. Please don't kick the poor girl while she's down, she may be the reason for our return, or, even our only remaining anchor to this world." She shared in the frustration of not knowing anything at the moment, but with how weak she felt compared to how she once was, she couldn't help but to feel the smallest disruption, the tiniest blip, would scatter them all to the winds once more. Aureia would have moved to intervene, had her fellow goddesses not done so before her. She nodded at the goddess of the Hunt and then the one of Love, but raised an eyebrow at the goddess of Eternity. What? She had spent an eternity condemned to dreams, after all. Don't blame her for being a little suspicious. "Yeah, long time no see, huh. Ah, don't suppose any of you girls come here often?"</s>
<\|description\|>Aureia Gender: Female Appearance: A bit short for a patron of such grand and intoxicating hallmarks of society, but if the consequence of being revived after ten thousand years of death is looking a bit cuter than she used to and having difficulty reaching top-shelf alcohol, then she'll take it while silently mourning her lost height. Her dark, simple hair gives her some measure of contrast against her golden eyes and often golden clothing; despite her capricious tendency to change clothing and style, they often seem to remain the same color. Personality: Luck and fortune can be a fickle thing, and so is the patron of such aspects. While her personality itself is stable, her opinions and preferences change day by day on a whim; those she favors as friends may be enemies the day after, and then friends again shortly after. It would also be no surprise, then, that the goddess of commerce and wealth is quite… greedy, and will look to her own self interests. All that glitters is indeed gold. Rumor has it that the touch of a god named after gold can indeed turn things into gold, such is her lust for wealth and treasure. Aureia is by no means a hostile or unforgiving god, though. At heart, she's a sweet, amiable person; whimsical and sometimes excitable sure, but playful nonetheless. She'll still stab you in the back with a smile, if it's to her benefit. After all, she is still the god of Commerce, perfidious Aureia. Domain: Commerce & Wealth, Traveling, and Luck Abilities: Fortune favors the bold, or so they say, and who better to dispense fortune than the plucky and bold goddess of wealth, luck, and traveling? Wherever she goes, and whoever she blesses, those around her will always find favorable circumstances and conditions, and fortune and luck are her personal sword and shield. Under her guidance, the seas are always calm and the winds fair as you sail the ocean blue; the forests amiable for your carriage to pass; the odds tilted in your balance in even the direst of battles; the art of business, ever given, and ever gentle. One can travel in many ways. One might, perhaps, travel by land, sea, or even air and beyond, using many multitudes of different vehicles available to mankind through the ages. It would be deeply remiss, then, for the goddess of traveling to be unfamiliar with any such means of travel. With her divine knowledge and skill, any means of transport—any vehicle—are not beyond her wisdom and ability to personally use or guide. Contracts are sacred, and agreements must be binding. Who better but to sanctify them than by the watchful eye of the godly patron of commerce & wealth? Her divine power binds any contract that she wishes to sanctify in such a way that they become sacred and inviolable, under penalty of swift and celestial retribution. At the peak of her power, her sacred intervention could easily push an impossible or even intangible contract into the realms of reality. Brief Backstory: Representing perhaps some of the most important facets in any organized society, Aureia was a well-known god. Once worshipped by kings and usurpers, merchants and scammers, and pilgrims and bandits alike, she was a goddess that was followed by many across the world's lands during her time. In times of great need, when a deal needed to be hammered out, or when one just wanted to travel to the next village over, she was there for the people. To her, it was a great game in the board of life that was the mortal world. With so many that prayed to her, so many conflicting wishes, how could but one goddess intervene in it all? No, as the god of luck, things must be arbitrary. With the flick of a wrist, she would determine the paths and fate of men, cities, even countries, on a whim... or with a sizeable enough offering. She was still the god of commerce, after all. Seeing nations grow was a drug; in a way, she could live vicariously through their wealth. It just would have been nice if she could have shepherded more civilizations before her demise.</s> <\|message\|>O'Menus Hexagonal Chamber - O'Menus The scene before him was of a different kind than he was use to. The viscera, strewn about organs and splattering of blood, the desperate death-prone bodies; most gripping or squeezing onto their last vestiges of mortality was typically ashes where he dispensed his ordinance. A particularly damaged warrior, filled with puncture holes and stabbed by swords, held his cold gaze the longest. 'Useless specks, even killing is a messy deed for them... Though that weapon looks valuable.' He fixed his eyes onto the stupidest of the armored-mortals, the one so idiotically bold or misled that he presumed to speak to Gods of divinity. That roused the core of his being, the heat that permeated his entirety, to attention. For a moment, he could remember what his original strength felt like, it allowed him to pull the vestiges together. To rally his now meager strength to its fullness. The sudden roar, or rather the luminance and birth of his flames pushed, Aureia's proposal into a death-sentence. The harsh light bloomed over the darkness for just a moment. The mortals didn't deserve his emotions; the scene that laid before him, before all the Gods, had decided they were ready to die. Apathetically, he considered them, wary of their tubular weapons. The flames that spewed from him gathered around his right forearm, a barren kite shield of hard-fire forming into existence. "There will be no surrender. They have threatened Gods... their fates will be death," he spoke aloud. He hoisted together all his Godly might and sprinted into action. Forming the shield, coupled with his show of strength was draining. He needed a weapon so he snatched the white blade from the dead warrior nearby and rushed towards the army. He assumed those puncture holes were made from those tubular sticks they were aiming at them. He covered his torso with the shield and ran straight for the horned-headed mortal, sword held at his side, ready for an exterminating decapitation.</s> <\|message\|>Alasayana, the Huntress Alasayana The hunt begins again --- As she ascended the stairs, the Huntress began pondering the ways she should be greeting the mortals. She didn't wish to scare them, or hurt them - more than once her prodigious strength caused some accidents when she wasn't paying attention. But she was a Goddess, she couldn't casually simply go around saying hello to mortals. There was a proper procedure to these things...hm, loud but friendly introduction? Make them give her an offering of fruit? Maybe ask one to take care of her divine tails. They probably haven't been properly maintained in so long. She could already hear them complaining. Or maybe she should thank them for waking her- Perhaps she had been too optimistic. The chamber they exited from held little interest to her. Its construction was curious, to be sure, but she doubted she'd glean anything from it all things considered. So she would step into the welcoming outside air, gazing over the stony expanse, a far cry from the warm sands and colorful jungles she was used too. The forest far below seemed welcoming, but alas - it seemed she may need to perform her duties as a hunter of evil before she could immerse herself in the luxuries of such a welcoming sight. Two dozen. Maybe a handful of more. Instead of keeping her tails close to her to appear as non-threatening as possible, she'd quickly change her tune the moment the carnage before her became apparent. The four appendages would extend outwards, gazing in all directions as to not let a single human here go unnoticed, not even the dead. A single large humanoid...metal construct? Of some sort lay slain...and near the door to them, was a man. Unmoving, also deceased. It was easy to guess what had happened here. A protector, slain by these before her. So, these people were after this priestess, and likely had far less noble intentions. "I see." Alasayana would inhale. Fury of the righteous sort would begin beating within. "I shall remember your face, warrior, and those stalwart eyes of yours. You did well. Please, rest. I will handle everything else." An exhale as she would offer a small comfort to the already deceased soldiers spirit as she would turn towards the Goddess of Commerce. "Save your breath, Auriea. As much as I loathe to agree with the Sun, I doubt they will listen...and I can not let their apparent transgressions go." With O'Menus taking the golden blade belonging to the warrior, Alasayana would opt for the best weapon she would know how to wield. "If they wish to become prey for challenging the Gods and our apparent benefactors, then so be it. Lopaley protect the priestess." She would turn her attention to the mob before them. Her tails would writhe behind her, the once passive faces upon them snarling, glaring at the red clad soldiers gathered. She would stand before them as O'Menus would begin his rush to their apparent leader. Even if she could no longer sense evil, hostility, lies and the sort of things that bred and fostered evil...she needn't such senses to determine what those before her were - and as a Goddess, she could not be wrong in her judgements. "Know this, mortals! I am Alasayana the Goddess of Hunt and she who judges the guilty and consigns their souls to oblivion!" The Goddess would open her eyes, divine fury burning within. "Stand before me and accept your fate, or Flee! It will not matter. Not a single one of you will leave here alive for your sins!" And thus, her judgement had been given. Guilty. For the first time in a millennia, the Goddess of the hunt, would do so once more. While O'menus would rush towards the apparent leader, she would rush towards the assembled troops. Black, bestial maws each going for a different soldier as they would rip and tear, drag and slam them against the ground or other soldiers as she would rush into the fray.</s> <\|message\|>Ashte Ashte ... was it really okay to let these two make first impressions? Maybe she and Aureia should run ahead of everyone else next time? Not that Ashte had anything against fighting--that would be completely ridiculous--but there was more to winning a war than killing everything that stood in your path. Knowing thy enemy, for instance, which was really not helped if you murdered everyone that even looked at you funny. Right now, she didn't feel like they could take on an entire army either. Well, the choice was out of her hands and at least this spared her the need to engage in making some overly flower declaration. That was something the white-haired goddess had never been too good at. Pillow talk? Rousing speeches? Those were fine but just... acting pompous on demand with no purpose to it? Where was the fun in that? It was a fortunate time to discover that her instincts were still working, her second shield forming as one of the red-clad soldiers pointed his tubular stick at her, the projectile embedding into the holy metal with a resounding clang. That was... unpleasantly close, she would have to pay more attention to fighting mortals until her power was back up to spec. And pay attention to this one she did, darting up to this one outside of the rampaging huntress's path, a cheerful smile on her face as her arms snapped into place around his. Twist, and... Oh, this was an interesting weapon, wasn't it? Ah, if she had enough of them, and faithful soldiers... the tactics that she could pull off with perfect battlefield awareness and a ranged implement such as this. It wouldn't be as fun or exciting as a pitched battlefield but being able to eliminate specific targets in the dead of night... She slammed the butt off the weapon into the disoriented soldier a few more times, knocking him to the ground. At least that way, they'd have someone to interrogate afterwards. Then, shields ready to intercept if anyone looked in her direction, Ashte scanned the battlefield... ah, that one had an even bigger tube? Best stop him first. One, two... their armour was unsurprisingly resilient to their own weapons, but it seemed multiple shots in the same spot could still go through. If you could do it. If the weapons had changed this much, how had warfare? Oh, this would be exciting.</s>	<\|message\|>Aureia Aureia, of gold, commerce, wealth,and the far less important, trivial aspects of travel and luck Ah, there it was, the response from the two gods she anticipated. With the obvious displeasure the god of the sun had been nursing going into this engagement, Aureia would have expected no quarter from O'Menus after even the slightest of slights, let alone the blasphemy the arrogant mortal had levied to their faces. The sun god had been grating on her ever since their awakening with his own arrogance, but she wouldn't interfere with his justifiable bloodlust, especially when the goddess of judgement jumped into the fray and did her thing. Aureia's little proposal had always been nothing more but polite theater. "Ahaha… well, the god of the sun and the goddess of judgment have spoken. Offer's canceled," she shrugged, as the two gods jumped forward from her flanks. The innocent smile on her face hardened. Not to be left out of the inevitable melee, with some panache, she gave her umbrella-turned-weapon a twirl, shooting forward into the fray. She was just in time to fight alongside Ashte, it seemed. However, her annoyance flared up when she realized the sun god snatched up the fallen knight's blade. It was shiny and looked expensive, she wanted that for herself, dammit! Clicking her tongue, she took out her anger on the nearest soldier. Following the goddess of war's example, she shielded herself from the projectiles of the future-weapons as they came. Snapping open her parasol, the divine fabric ate up the strange arrows before Aureia snapped it back, slashing with it like a sword to cut into the man. She then moved to accompany Alasayana in her judgment against the remaining peons. It was never Aureia's style to directly punish mortals. After all, war was bad for business. Yet war was also good for business.</s>
<\|description\|>Henry "Harry" Koning ♔ Henry Koning ♚ Age: 22 Appearance: Hair looks like actor's picture Height: 5'8 Weight: 164 lbs Likes: • Chess • Puzzle games • Watching sports, especially football + baseball • Travelling • A healthy work life balance Dislikes: • Impatience • Unnecessary mistakes • Addictive substances • Improper/Unsportsmanlike behavior Zodiac Sign: Pisces (He doesn't believe in this) Special Talent: Chess: Being co-champion in the US Championship, and positive performance in international tournaments, Henry's chess talent cannot be dismissed. This translate to a variety of more general skills like memorization, visualization, pattern recognition as well as maintaining calmness in most situations. Profession: Titled chess player. Chess coach at Delta Chess Club. Undergraduate Computer Science and Mathematics at Delta University. Personality: Generally a pretty chill person, Henry does not get angry quickly, nor does he express his emotions in outbursts, though he does tend to let out how he feels in a calm yet blunt way. In normal times, he tends to be pretty laid-back, and thanks to the money he raked from tournaments, chess coach and events, he could afford to enjoy the spectacles of life that he misses when he's focused on competitive chess, learn new things that he doesn't get to learn often. Without him stating it, or the sight of him playing in clubs/universities/on the streets with random people, you'd never guess he's a professional chess player. Nonetheless, Henry is still a very competitive person at his core. He treats every loss seriously and every mistake he makes both in chess and in real life critically, while victories are well-deserved and something to be proud of. He does not have any qualm to tolerate crap when it comes to the things he love, and he's more than willing to shove them back at the offenders in his trademark brutal honesty. Bio: Henry was born in 1966 in Florida to a family of Dutch refugees to the United States due to World War 2. His mother, Alida, had rough times trying to get by in the new living environment, and by the time of Henry's birth, she was homeless, separated (and later divorced) from her husband, and was forced to live in a van, shuttled to do different jobs to feed herself and Henry. Young Henry did not have formal elementary education, but to him it was his mother's van, where she taught him basic subjects like math, English, etc. When he was old enough to go to middle school, however, Alida had found a stable enough job and settled in a cheap run-down apartment, and he enrolled in the local Floridian middle school, where he discovered his future career as a chess player. The chess genius Bobby Fischer who singlehandedly beaten the Soviet chess machine and dethroned Boris Spassky in 1972 inspired a wave of chess popularities in schools across the United States, including Henry's middle school with a small but cozy group of friends and teachers with interests in the game. There, Henry began to display his aptitude for the game, defeating all his peers easily after a few weeks of learning. One of the teachers then introduced him to a chess simul in Texas with a chess master and former national champion. Henry played and held his positions for over 40 moves, drawing crowds of onlookers, before being beaten. His performance, however, got people's attention, and he was introduced to attend the Florida Chess Club where he was coached properly by chess professionals. He gradually developed a solid and conservative playstyle that is difficult to crack open but often leads to draw positions. Attending a Florida high school, Henry won two state championship in 1980 and 1981. His first brush with the US champion came in 1982, where the intimidation of going on the big league led to a less than stellar performance. By the time of his high school graduation, he surpassed the FIDE rating of 2300. In the same year, he redeemed his previous year's performance by becoming the US co-champion, losing only to the previous year's candidate. After high school, Henry hesitated on going further into college and instead spent his next few years trying to improve his and his mother's living conditions. They moved to Delta City, and using his chess talent and riding on what's left of the chess boom left from Fischer's time, Henry coached young chess players as well as participating in chess events in multiple states for money. During this time, he also participated in multiple international chess tournaments, including one in Paris and in Latvia, finishing 9th and 4th place respectively. All these efforts secured him a fairly stable middleclass lifestyle at Delta. Recent History: After earning 2 norms for his performance in Paris and Latvia, Henry decided to wait a bit before going for his third norm, thus securing his International Master title. He wanted to settle down, enjoy life a bit since turning his life around and finish his university education. He's currently 2nd year undergraduate in Computer Science, minor Mathematics at Delta University. Actor or Actress/Public Figure who would play your Character in a movie: Tell us about yourself: Your age: 21 What part of the world are you from? International Student from Vietnam to Vancouver Canada How many years have you been writing/roleplaying? Since 2017 so 4 years How often do you have time to post? If I push for it, once a day. I will sit a lot on public transit and does allow some time to just sit there and craft a post. *Anything else you want to mention? What you do for a living? How much do you work a week? What do you enjoy doing besides writing? Put as much as you want. I just got internship as an IT Technician, and will be working 40 hours a week. I also do game supertest for the game World of Warships. I like to play chess casually and also take a long walk in the park (more like forest) near my house. "These are the things that make a good story great and good writers even greater." 3.5</s> <\|message\|>Genevieve James aka GiGi Blinking at Karina and tipping her head a little at the assumption that she'd serve them a dirty piece of flatware, GiGi hid her smile but her eyes sparkled. She tapped beside her lip not wanting to smear her lipstick. "Don't believe everything you see on TV sweets. I wouldn't work here if it wasn't clean. Orange juice and coffee coming right up ladies." GiGi smirked as she recalled the fan that was so eager to have the girl's autograph. It had been hard not to stare intently at Sena after reading the little message. She mentally shrugged as she walked over to get the drinks for the girls. The man sitting muttered something about a quiet morning. "Not a chance, guapo. Lo siento, that's not on the menu around here. What can I get you?" Nevaeh popped a hip out eyes running over the pretty boy. Cutting her eyes back to the girls GiGi made sure that no one was mobbing them. Where are their bodyguards? She quickly got the orange juice and coffee with a small chilled container of cream, just in case it was needed. Walking past Nevaeh and caught a quick glance at the babe at the table who was likely soon to be drooled over by Nevaeh, maybe herself. It was a big maybe. He had a nice bod and killer eyes but that didn't mean he could move. GiGi liked being picky. She wasn't picky about much but a guy had to check all her boxes or he didn't get past the friend zone. Lifting an eyebrow at Nevaeh and gliding over to her table GiGi set down the drinks in front of the ladies. "You ladies need a few minutes more or are you ready now?" @PrinceAlexus</s> <\|message\|>Isabella Daphne Belle "Bella" Isabella Daphne Belle location = Sushi Place (Team Sushi) Isabella left the study building, winding her way through the brightly lit lobby and its various shaded walkways that linked to other parts of the technology campus at Delta University. It was one of most modern and newest areas as a large plaque proclaimed the man who donated the land and money for its construction. Least rich person using money for a mostly good cause. Henry was an interesting character though he might need the patience of a few hundred saints if he thought she might learn to play chess at a more complicated level than a beginner. She could make a computer think, react and even learn from mistakes and adapt its own probability calculations just not play the game personally very well. The project seemed to have a lot of potential and Professor Jones, while somewhat wizzardy would never put her into a bad situation that did not benefit her and and PHD work. Henry could be interesting to get to know, rather... Carefully chosen in his words and actions potentially but he seemed polite and raised no red flags. Reaching her little suzuki samurai it was a fairly short drive to the sushi place. Just the lunch time traffic was rather busy and finding a place to park was somewhat more challenging nervously parallel parking on a street close by. "Come on... Only once more." finally getting into line on the 6th try easing off the clutch that all the city driving had been heavier on. Glancing in the mirror before leaving with a quick touch up on lipstick, Isabella liked to look least presentable and dress nicely as first impressions counted for alot and never know who you bump into. Chucking some coins in the meter before heading to sushi place, not the only person to decide it was qn favourite for lunch. A taller more pale looking man was eating inside with a camera and various additional kit with him. Another customer seemed to match his extra eye with a missing eye and black eye patch though the pirate look ended their well dressed sharp outfit and was unlikely to raid and rip bodices of duchess's in steamy ship board forbidden romances. Both were about her height so maybe people were just taller here and fit in rather well. "Number 1, 12, 17, extra rice... Oh and one of those please" Finding a Japanese probably not imported drink by the front counter placing her order with a harried and flustered looking young man who may be fairly new. "Of..of course miss, Chef is preparing a fresh salmon batch so your order be around 10-15 minutes." The teanager? Maybe finding some more confidence. "I can wait. Thank You." Directed to a table and ending up near the photographer and the city's smartest dressed pirate. It certainly was a strange gathering through the city... Well not shy about being different, the man with a camera was more in his own world like she got when working on a problem. Finding her note book in hand bag, Isabella started doodling out an idea she had in the car heading over, rolling the fountain pen between her fingers trying to make sense of it. Careful not to drip ink on the table or her dress, ever try getting ink out... Its painful. Her best ideas always came at strangest moments taking a drink from. Whatever Japanese drink it was choosing it based on the berries on label. Rather nice in fact for a random choice made on a label and what looked interesting. "Oops... Sorry. Got caught up in my work." Accidently tapping one of them while picking up a dropped coloured pen she was using to sort and link her ideas together while waiting for lunch. Mentions</s>	<\|message\|>Henry "Harry" Koning ♔ Henry Koning ♚ Morning - Delta University -> Shogun Sushi --- "That's a good one. I certainly wouldn't mind some good sashimi." As someone with a bit of international travel, Henry knew quite a bit about other cultures and lifestyle. While he never had that opportunity to visit Japan, their culture wasn't exactly unpopular in the countries that he visited during his tournaments. If anything, he would not deny that their food, for some inexplicable reason, was always filling regardless of how small the portion looked like. His only guess was that it was so compacted with nutrients that it was so, unlike the fat-saturated American fast food. As for Isabella, well there's not a lot to be particularly impressed or unimpressed yet. If anything she looked, or tried to look, more like a Broadway actress rather than an AI grad student. It was pretty, but it was a bit flashy. It might be because he grew up in a world full of often overly-serious people in front of a plastic board and wooden figures that Henry favored something more conservative. But hey, at least she wasn't that obsessive type only focused on whatever is in front of them. Perhaps she could teach him a bit about how to dance. Regardless, Henry followed the girl on his own drive to Shogun Sushi. The somewhat heavy traffic was a perfect opportunity for the man to revisit some of his old games in his head. It was a lot more about being bored from it that made a person go insane from being stuck, and Henry was never one to let his mind go inactive for even a second. As a result, it wasn't so bad for him, and hey, he'd get there when he gets there. Nevertheless, he decided to be strategic about his parking, as he took a different turn away from Shogun Sushi into a parking lot close to a mall a few blocks down and walked up to the Sushi Shop. It was a bit faster, and he didn't mind the little walk. Entering Shogun Sushi, Isabella had already arrived a bit before he did, along with many hungry customers just like him. Some having really...interesting appearances. "May I have the bento box please. Florida roll and salmon with the rice." He made his orders, and was then directed towards a table of his own, but he preferred to sit at Isabella's, since there were two chairs there and one was unused. "You two together?" But the small request did raise the eyebrow in the waiter directing him. Well, that wasn't completely unexpected. "Acquainted." He curtly shrugged, before turning over to Isabella. "If you don't mind."</s>
<\|description\|>Masashi Yamada "Sorry, if I needed help from commoners like you it would be to empty my trash bin." --- --- Masashi is a fair-skinned, 21 year old man. He stands at 5'10", with jet black hair and crimson eyes. He often wears various black suits, usually with red or white variations. This is mostly to keep up appearances wherever he goes. When he can afford to not expect as much attention, he will sport a more simple and comfortable approach of black shorts with a white t shirt. Secretly he enjoys wearing pajamas within the comfort of his home. When he transforms, Masashi wears a mostly black suit and tie with gold trimmings, along with lightly armored pauldrons, Light knee plates, black gloves, a shoulder cape, fedora, and face mask --- Personality Masashi is incredibly prideful and flashy. He enjoys having the limelight, and is more then willing to save those innocent peasants for the image it gives him alone. Unsurprisingly shallow and arrogant. He enjoys taunting foes and rivals, believing himself to be superior to most, and deserving of the powers he was given more than anyone else. Due to his overconfidence, he isn't easily provoked until one starts to prove that his overconfidence is misplaced. He loses his cool façade when he realizes he doesn't have the edge he thought he had and will start getting more desperate and aggressive. His inner hobby as a wanna-be actor tends to let him be overdramatic at times. --- Background Masashi was raised in a strict but wealthy household. Growing up, his parents did little more then encourage an insecurity upon his self worth. At first, this made him a meek and quiet kid. But there was a turning point in his later teens when he had one last fight with his parents. He left on his own, given a generous sum of money as a form of 'take it and leave' from his father, and lost all communications with his immediate family. He was desperate to spite his parents, prove he wasn't a deadbeat, and tried to make a name for himself. His pursuits as an actor didn't get very far, and at his lowest point, that was when Hades contacted him, and made him a deal. Masashi had thought he'd won the lottery, power and fame. What more could a man like him want? All he had to do was to keep this territory safe, and spread Hade's name. Taking his image seriously, he quickly grew to see others territory owners as his immediate rivals. --- Patron: Hades, lord of the underworld. Patron Tool: Ring of shadows. A silver ring with an onyx gem encrusted on it. He usually wears the ring on his right index finger. Patron Aspect: Shadow Manipulation --- Aspect Magic Dark energy is pulled from his shadow towards his ring, which can manifest in various forms. The shadows weaved can take on various properties, such as a flowing liquid, dark lightning, black explosions and fire, or a solid plexiglass-like mass. While initially he can only generate shadows around his ring, he can create a liquid-like surface of shadows to expand his range of creation, typically in the fashion of of a circle beneath his feet, or a mass above him like a cloud. Creating an expanded mass requires a building up time and continued connection to maintain, along with a lot of energy to maintain. He can attempt to 'mimic' attacks, or rather copy the form of said attacks by shadow manifestation. Such as someone's fire wave with a black fire wave, granted this 'copycat' strategy is solely based on his shadow manifestation ability. He's still limited to his own power, and can't create something that his shadows can't do, or mimic some conceptual or status effect. The strength of his ability to create shadows is strongest at dusk and dawn. During the day between is at its weakest, and the night between is strong but not as much as dusk and dawn. Light-based abilities and magic can 'petrify' his shadows to some extent, limiting his ability. The general range of his creation is limited to the ring's general surroundings, though he can expend energy to create a shadow mass to further his range. One of his favored techniques is creating a katana that he dubs 'the Umbral Blade.' The arm that the ring is worn on can be transformed into various shadowy-shapes. His primary tactics in this regard is a stretching/retracting serpent, a shadow-made minigun arm cannon, or a claw. He can disperse into his own shadow to move around quickly, though the moving shadow can be hit with an attack to force him out of it. He can substitute an attack with a shadow clone, but can only perform this once every night. --- Other skills Acting (Supposedly), and Video-games (Though he's ashamed of letting anyone know that he's really just a nerd).</s> <\|message\|>Shimizu Atheni --- Had it not been for the strange appearance of the gate on the frozen bay, the magical girl of the sea would probably be enjoying what snow there was on her way to work. Alas, it would seem fate had other plans for. Atheni texted her supervisor just a bit earlier in the morning, claiming she was feeling ill from the sudden cold weather. Somehow, it didn't seem like the man in charge took her seriously, which was strange because she made sure to include mistakes like she was too sick to even type on her phone. Oh well, it doesn't matter, right? This gate needed to be investigated. It was located close to a territory she remember was unprotected by any specific person. Will there be others looking into this strange appearance? That would be fun. If anything bad happens, it's her duty to make sure all is good and safe. For after all, she is the God of the Seas' incarnation! Even overlapping on another territory, the bay should be under her protection, for her command over water should make her the ruler of any bodies of water. Atheni's home wasn't too far from the river, which was a fortunate blessing considering how much she relied on it for transport. Even frozen, it still remains water. Eyes would recognize the magical girl standing next to the river by her out-of-season beach-themed outfit. Early risers would cheer for her, some would try to call out to her, but all they would receive would be the wave of a hand before she was seen zooming across the surface of the river. She was standing on a thick platform of ice, propelled by a jet of water goin in the opposite direction. It did not take long for the inheritor of Poseidon's powers to find herself at the bay. Already, she could see monstrous entities pouring out of the gate, some were already this far as traveling on the frozen bay to go to other territories. She'd pick up the stragglers at least. Attention undivided to the youkai in front of her, Atheni pushed her platform to reach maximum speed. Trident in both ends, she basically bisected the monster when she rammed into it at full speed. It knocked her off the platform, but she was quick to brace herself by planting her golden weapon into the ice. Enraged, another youkai came charging at her. Silhouette of a black lion with bat wings, it jumped high and tried to crash into Atheni while she was recovering. The magical girl had already planned on her defenses for this one. A thick layer of ice erupted from the bay to form a wall between her and her attacker. Cracks formed into the wall from the heavy impact of the beast. Spikes erupted from the wall of to thoroughly impale the monster as Atheni slammed the butt of her trident into the wall. The third straggler on her way was easy picking. As soon as she saw it, she rose a hand towards it. People would take she's been shooting laser beams, but in reality the water around her shot into extremely high-pressurized streams to pierced the monster in various places. One last stream would have decapitated the monster entirely. That took care of a few stragglers. Three down, way more to go. Let's see if she can get close enough to the gate to crash this whole party into the sea floor. Should be no small feat, but definitely something that could be done to stop this. Atheni continued her march, heralding the fury of Poseidon with a vast array of ice sheets and water streams floating around her.</s> <\|message\|>Amélie Renard ♫𝄞 𝄪 Amélie Renard 𝄪 𝄞♫ Somewhere on one of Taito's ward building stood Amélie, her gaze turned towards the giant Tori Gate that had appeared on the waters. The building in question was a theatre which had housed Amélie's latest performance, which unfortunately was cut short between two pieces when she received bad news and had to leave in emergency. The popular piano player Miss Renard was well known, and so was the Magical protector of the ward but the young prodigy never intended to have both identities become one and the same. More so out of convenience than fear. Fame...was not something Amélie desired. Her musical career and dream led her to own some of it, but it was a byproduct of her chosen passion - not something she set out to obtain. Already changed into her Magical counterpart, Amélie slowly let herself fall forward from the building and began running down the wall until, in a long and graceful jump, she propelled herself to the next rooftop. Each of her steps was met with some ripple effect that also produced different musical notes that, somehow, fitted with one another into short but precise melodies. While she seemed to be able to launch herself great distances, when compared to a regular human, she still sometimes stepped on seemingly thin air. On these occasion, the ripple effect still appeared as some sort of platform, allowing her to gracefully skip through the air like a ballerina. It was not long before she had reached the area around the bay. As soon as she landed on a nearby rooftop, Amélie paused. Down on the water's edge she spotted one of her 'peers', so to speak. She seemed under attack, be plenty able to handle herself. Surely, more were on their ways. More interestingly, some Monsters seemed to have been faster than the rest and already passed the front liner and were reaching the streets. Down below, two Yokai found preys. They bore green, thick skin and messy hair as well as a shell on their back; Kappas. They had found human preys in the form of two children, whom they were now dragging towards the water where a third Kappa was trying to break the ice, or find an entry, to quite possibly drown their victims. A quick fall and a flip later, and two of the Kappas would look behind them as their companion could be heard letting out a loud screeching sound and fall the the ground. Or rather, it's headless body did. Landing, slashing, body to the ground and, finally, head to the ground~ All of these produced a musical note that ended in a crescendo when the head finished rolling near the two others, Amélie standing between them and the two children. The two monsters charged. Lunge, trust, jump, spin, trust, slash - the monsters died to some magical piano melody as their blood was wiped from Amélie's ebony blade, who was standing straight, regal. The woman turned to the two children, her long, white hair following her movement perfectly. "You are safe now. Take care and leave as far as you can for now, please." There was glory and fame to be had in being a magical girl, but there was also lives to save. Down here, in this remote street far away from cameras and views, Amélie had long since made her choice.</s>	<\|message\|>Masashi Yamada A star has arrived. There was a suddenly an explosion of black smoke along an unoccupied street. A black and purple pillar of shadows rose from the clearing smoke. The pillar had risen far above the surrounding buildings before its form extended a long flight of steps to the street, and a slightly more purple carpet of shadows materialized and rolled down the steps. With the remaining smoke clearing around where the steps stopped at, a figure emerged already taking the first step onto the stairs. A well dressed suit, gold trimmed, with armored pauldrons and a ring on one of his gloved hands. Masashi Yamada, the Fortunate Shadow, the self proclaimed prince of Arakawa. He had finally appeared on the scene, always one for his dramatic entrances. Due to the height of the stairs, he had them move and shuffle like an escalator to bring him to the top, stopping once he had reached the step below the top of his pillar. With a snap of his fingers and a stream of shadows from his ring, a throne formed itself out from the pillar's floor. Masashi had spent a great deal of practice to simulate a proper, comfortable seat made from his shadows. His real furniture at home were still more comfortable, but his current constructions was satisfactory nonetheless. Before he let himself sit, however, he turned to face the steps, to face the frozen bay and the gate of monsters. "Hmph! It seems it was a waste to come here after all! An easy task such as this is better suited for my personal servant!" Masashi explained with dramatic flair. He was always one to play character whenever he was 'on the job.' Always to try and put on a show. The height of his throne left room for long ranged support should that somehow be required, though he had no intention of actually getting his hands dirty if he could help it, but more importantly it was to ensure a bubble of personal space, a luxury that was rare when dealing with her. He raised his right towards the sky, facing the same direction upward as he began to shout. "I beseech the powers of lord Hades! From the deepest depths of the underworld, the infernal pits of Tartarus! Again I call upon a monster worthy to serve under my power! Come fourth, the Witch of Shadows, the Weaver of Night! Dispatch of these pests!" He chanted loudly, sounding like some kind of spell. His ring had glowed with black light while he had spoke. It something he had rehearsed and practiced unlike most of his abilities. In reality, the words had no purpose in the spell, it was just to draw attention to himself and to buy time. When he finished, the ring streamed a connection of shadows to an alleyway near where the steps he had summoned began. A predetermined spot he had planned with an accomplice. Another burst of smoke erupted through the streets from the desired point, this one lasting a bit longer to allow 'his servant' to get into position. The First few steps of the stairs had morphed completely within the smoke-formed shadows. Becoming something closer to a stage with steps on all three sides to the street. An archway standing at the center where the rug extended and continued to roll down the steps and off into the street to adjust the new structure. Two braziers simulating shadow-flames stood at either end of the front of this stage as the smoke started to clear. Before it fully cleared up, far above, Masashi had already taken his seat upon the throne with a devilish smirk.</s>
<\|description\|>Masashi Yamada "Sorry, if I needed help from commoners like you it would be to empty my trash bin." --- --- Masashi is a fair-skinned, 21 year old man. He stands at 5'10", with jet black hair and crimson eyes. He often wears various black suits, usually with red or white variations. This is mostly to keep up appearances wherever he goes. When he can afford to not expect as much attention, he will sport a more simple and comfortable approach of black shorts with a white t shirt. Secretly he enjoys wearing pajamas within the comfort of his home. When he transforms, Masashi wears a mostly black suit and tie with gold trimmings, along with lightly armored pauldrons, Light knee plates, black gloves, a shoulder cape, fedora, and face mask --- Personality Masashi is incredibly prideful and flashy. He enjoys having the limelight, and is more then willing to save those innocent peasants for the image it gives him alone. Unsurprisingly shallow and arrogant. He enjoys taunting foes and rivals, believing himself to be superior to most, and deserving of the powers he was given more than anyone else. Due to his overconfidence, he isn't easily provoked until one starts to prove that his overconfidence is misplaced. He loses his cool façade when he realizes he doesn't have the edge he thought he had and will start getting more desperate and aggressive. His inner hobby as a wanna-be actor tends to let him be overdramatic at times. --- Background Masashi was raised in a strict but wealthy household. Growing up, his parents did little more then encourage an insecurity upon his self worth. At first, this made him a meek and quiet kid. But there was a turning point in his later teens when he had one last fight with his parents. He left on his own, given a generous sum of money as a form of 'take it and leave' from his father, and lost all communications with his immediate family. He was desperate to spite his parents, prove he wasn't a deadbeat, and tried to make a name for himself. His pursuits as an actor didn't get very far, and at his lowest point, that was when Hades contacted him, and made him a deal. Masashi had thought he'd won the lottery, power and fame. What more could a man like him want? All he had to do was to keep this territory safe, and spread Hade's name. Taking his image seriously, he quickly grew to see others territory owners as his immediate rivals. --- Patron: Hades, lord of the underworld. Patron Tool: Ring of shadows. A silver ring with an onyx gem encrusted on it. He usually wears the ring on his right index finger. Patron Aspect: Shadow Manipulation --- Aspect Magic Dark energy is pulled from his shadow towards his ring, which can manifest in various forms. The shadows weaved can take on various properties, such as a flowing liquid, dark lightning, black explosions and fire, or a solid plexiglass-like mass. While initially he can only generate shadows around his ring, he can create a liquid-like surface of shadows to expand his range of creation, typically in the fashion of of a circle beneath his feet, or a mass above him like a cloud. Creating an expanded mass requires a building up time and continued connection to maintain, along with a lot of energy to maintain. He can attempt to 'mimic' attacks, or rather copy the form of said attacks by shadow manifestation. Such as someone's fire wave with a black fire wave, granted this 'copycat' strategy is solely based on his shadow manifestation ability. He's still limited to his own power, and can't create something that his shadows can't do, or mimic some conceptual or status effect. The strength of his ability to create shadows is strongest at dusk and dawn. During the day between is at its weakest, and the night between is strong but not as much as dusk and dawn. Light-based abilities and magic can 'petrify' his shadows to some extent, limiting his ability. The general range of his creation is limited to the ring's general surroundings, though he can expend energy to create a shadow mass to further his range. One of his favored techniques is creating a katana that he dubs 'the Umbral Blade.' The arm that the ring is worn on can be transformed into various shadowy-shapes. His primary tactics in this regard is a stretching/retracting serpent, a shadow-made minigun arm cannon, or a claw. He can disperse into his own shadow to move around quickly, though the moving shadow can be hit with an attack to force him out of it. He can substitute an attack with a shadow clone, but can only perform this once every night. --- Other skills Acting (Supposedly), and Video-games (Though he's ashamed of letting anyone know that he's really just a nerd).</s> <\|message\|>Shimizu Atheni --- Whew, at last it was over! Leaving it to the others was definitely a good choice. It had been dealt quite swiftly, Atheni thought. A burning hellfire that not even the water she can control would put out. Now that's a scary thought, although abated by the fact that this fire was created by a fellow magical protector of this city. The blue-haired magical girl could see the gate burning down by the corner of her vision, though she tried to not let it lost her focus. One mistake and she could be gravely injured, after all, for there still seemed to be a lot of youkais left behind the disappearance of where they came from. Atop her giant wall of ice, Atheni surveyed her surroundings. It would appear most of the remaining monsters were at the gate in their desperate attempt to save the gate. A few stragglers at best, and it seemed like there were other magical folk defending those who made it into the city, judging from corpses over there. A very satisfying outcome, if she could allow herself the pat on the back. Atheni shifted her focus on the remaining monsters. Surely they'd lash out in anger at the immediate threat, being the ship's magical crew in this instance. It would be best to help them dispatch the few remaining youkais, then take care of the bay itself. It was her duty to return it to normal, as the goddess of these waters! She slid down her wall of ice and towards the crater someone made a bit earlier when dropping from the sky. Atheni wondered if that person was alright, still in there? Maybe they needed assistance. Looking upon the monsters around the crater, it was a good guess to think those youkais were connected to the gate. It only made them easier to deal with. With a snap of her fingers, the monsters in her immediate vicinity found themselves rapidly encased in the ice underneath them, before silenced by thorns impaling them from their icy prisons. She wasn't one to give names to her techniques, as it became tedious to name each and every manner of manipulating water. This one however, she'd be proud to call it the "Hoarfrost Iron Maiden". It did sound kinda cool, but she wondered how well it would be to say it out loud. With the surrounding threat taken care of, Atheni slid down the small crater to meet the person at the bottom. "Hey, are you alright?" she called out, patching the crater to prevent it from leaking water inside. Couldn't allow them to drown in there, could she?</s> <\|message\|>Rim Mikagura RIM MIKAGURA Collab with @ERode --- Rim looked at the coat in his hands, putting it on immediately. He tied his cloth around to secure it too, just in case. "I... no. I'm alone. I don't need, um." How did he want to phrase this? "Is everything alright at the hospital?" Zen tilted her head to the side slightly, then nodded. "Yes, the hospital's safe. I was actually gonna head over there again after squaring this place out. Are you sure you don't want to come with? You're not wearing shoes..." And he had been running pretty hard. "The staff too? They're okay?" She tapped her fist against her heart. "Wouldn't be here if they weren't." He stared unnervingly long. Tightened his cloth. "Okay," he said. And more softly, "Thank you." With one last look at the hospital past the girl, he sprinted off with inhuman speed. Left in the dust of the sprinting man, Zen could only stare in silence. "..." She smacked her fist into her palm. "Oh, so it was him!"</s> <\|message\|>Amélie Renard ♫𝄞 𝄪 Amélie Renard 𝄪 𝄞♫ As the Yokais got closer and as Amélie had no answer from the biker magical girl, she feared for the worst. She could possibly hold her ground against the horde for sure, and even possibly get out - but not without the one she came here to help. And she couldn't turn her back to the Yokais to look for said magical girl when those same Yokai were ready to pounce on her. All in all, it was a possibly bad situation Amélie's desire to help put her in. Just as she was getting ready to jump at the enemy in an attempt to quell their numbers, she heard; "No, this what you tell them. Five words: Fuck around and find out." Rash words coming from an equally bold magical girl who litterally jumped into action. Her entrance sure was flashy, but the results of her action backed up her cockiness. She came down hard on the ice, an explosion of magic that pushed the nearest Yokais away. It might have affected Amélie too, but as she was about to jump away someone grabbed her waist and used some form of magic to create a protection for them. Looking at her would be saviour, Amélie was gladdened to see the biker girl alive and well. "Oh, well I actually came to offer assistance." Amélie said, lightly tapping out the remaining embers on Ryofu's charred vest. "I was not certain you'd..." but she was cut off just as soon as she was about to speak. "But I admire your guts, kid." In two quick sentences Ryofu managed to make it plainly clear not only how little they respected Amélie's potential combat ability, but also trusted in their own capabilities a lot. It painted a clear portrait of Ryofu's character, at least on the surface. Despite that, Amélie was neither angry nor hurt, as in the end everyone was safe and Ok. At least around her. She looked around them, ready to finish off remaining Yokais as the gates were now crumbling, but it seemed others already took care of it. Mainly, the water-controlling magical girl who's powers were impressive. Amélie took a step back and respectfully bowed slightly to Ryofu "Thank you for your own assistance just then." she said, before looking down towards where Ayumi fell as Atheni was erecting barriers around them. "We should see if that one is also alright." "Still...I wonder what that was all about. And did you see that hand as the gates crumbled?" she told Ryofu as Amélie herself headed down the crater towards Ayumi. She knew that Yokais did not need special agenda to cause trouble or attack, but to her this felt somewhat...different. Though she might be wrong.</s>	<\|message\|>Masashi Yamada Masashi's makeshift gun-arm ceased its fire upon on the yokai not long after the portal collapsed. It seemed like the crisis was over. It was certainly a crowded event, too much competition in one place. Masashi wasn't keen on how many showed up, a huge floating ship had appeared to steal his show, worse still was the rudeness of that biker for her rudeness, but at least the threat was dealt with. He thought he put on a good show, there was some satisfaction in that. The contract he made was worth it. Perhaps that was just wishful thinking. The umbramancer allowed the shadows to melt off his arm, vanishing in rapid black droplets. His ears recognized the sounds of that devil's heels, turning his head just as she began to address him. He felt her eyes focused for a moment on the symbol on his neck, the mark of their pact. Masashi kept a professional and cold attitude as always, but for once he felt perhaps the tiniest of concerns; that perhaps he shouldn't treat these dealings with her so lightly. Still, what price was there to pay to keep himself in the spotlight? With all these pesky competitors in the way, her services are necessary. Anywhere he goes, Masashi finds himself threatened by those trying to take what he deserves, or perhaps that's a testament to his insecurities. There was a time when Masashi would have had a slight flustered reaction to her advances, but overtime that has worn out with a tolerance of her odd behavior. Still, he'd like to keep things professional at all times. There was a brief, restrained sign of irritation just after he felt her fingers over the neck. An exhale, furrowed brows with eyes closed in reservation. And a slight shift away from her even though she had already started to move past him. It was an attempt to remind this little devil to keep things professional. Though perhaps that was a lost cause. "Of course. I'll take over from here. It's only natural for me to be the center of attention, not these 'heroes'." There was a hint of bitterness to that. A sign of envy. Maybe if he only had a big floating ship to parade on. "I'm sure I'll need your services again, Koakuma. Take care." He left her with a slight grin. A hint of his delusion that he was in control of this show. And with that, he'd let loose another smokescreen of black vapor. Shadows wrapping around the street like a cloud of ink. Masashi began to walk his own way now, intended to return to his territory. It would be flashier after all to leave in that 'mysterious' fashion.</s>
<\|description\|>Jasmine Kotono "Fry and die already!" Appearance: Even when outside of her magical girl attire, it's not tough to recognize the somewhat gloomy punk and the magical girl running around Shinjuku as one and the same, and she makes no attempt to deny any comparisons. Spiked bracelets, leather jackets, torn off jeans, ripped leggings, political t-shirts, and similar black attire are all regular staples of her wardrobe. Age: 19 Personality: Though generally altruistic, Jasmine is irritable, defensive, distrustful of authority, and altogether rough around the edges when she's on edge, which is relatively often. Still, she relents around those she respects, and when she's vented enough to deflate she becomes far more receptive. All in all, she's much more approachable when she's not on "the job." Background: Jasmine always got the feeling that she never really fit in anywhere. She wasn't even born in Japan, her family just travelled around a lot. It wasn't like she felt like she fit in with them either, especially when her big sister was better than her at everything. Still, she skimmed onwards at a sufficient yet unimpressive level of excellence, at least until she made a debatably ill-advised pact with a demon in the middle of a college course that she wasn't sure she was all that committed to. Though it looked like she was kind of stuck to Shinjuku now, which was something she kind of had to commit to. To her, it still felt like life sucked, but it was something she could work with. Maybe actually do something of value along the way, too. Patron: Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies Patron Tool: A silver pendant adorned with black onyx Patron Weapon: A heavy, oversized cleaver Patron Aspect: Gluttony Aspect Magic: Given a few seconds, Jasmine can concoct a bottle of what appears to be hot sauce. Further examination proves that it isn't any ordinary hot sauce, primarily due to the fact that it bursts into hellfire when exposed to open air. These flames can either be fired in bursts through careful operation of the lid, poured onto a patron weapon, or detonated like a molotov by throwing the bottle against a hard surface to create intense flames that burn abnormally quickly and are nearly impossible to put out through non magical means, and put up a greater fight against magical methods than one would expect. The sauce has an additional oddity; anything remotely edible that was charred by it will eventually become very edible once the flames burn out, and taste downright excellent, providing an energizing, empowering effect for a short time. These foods seem decently filling, but always leave one right on the edge of feeling truly sated. In fact, if one already feels full, consuming one will leave them feeling that they suddenly have room for more. Other skills: Gaming, playing the trumpet, and more recently, cooking. Other Mentions: She runs a soup kitchen when she's not busy doing the usual magical girl schtick. Both because she cares and because there's gotta be better ways to gather belief than setting everything on fire, right?</s> <\|message\|>Amélie Renard ♫𝄞 𝄪 Amélie Renard 𝄪 𝄞♫ Somewhere on one of Taito's ward building stood Amélie, her gaze turned towards the giant Tori Gate that had appeared on the waters. The building in question was a theatre which had housed Amélie's latest performance, which unfortunately was cut short between two pieces when she received bad news and had to leave in emergency. The popular piano player Miss Renard was well known, and so was the Magical protector of the ward but the young prodigy never intended to have both identities become one and the same. More so out of convenience than fear. Fame...was not something Amélie desired. Her musical career and dream led her to own some of it, but it was a byproduct of her chosen passion - not something she set out to obtain. Already changed into her Magical counterpart, Amélie slowly let herself fall forward from the building and began running down the wall until, in a long and graceful jump, she propelled herself to the next rooftop. Each of her steps was met with some ripple effect that also produced different musical notes that, somehow, fitted with one another into short but precise melodies. While she seemed to be able to launch herself great distances, when compared to a regular human, she still sometimes stepped on seemingly thin air. On these occasion, the ripple effect still appeared as some sort of platform, allowing her to gracefully skip through the air like a ballerina. It was not long before she had reached the area around the bay. As soon as she landed on a nearby rooftop, Amélie paused. Down on the water's edge she spotted one of her 'peers', so to speak. She seemed under attack, be plenty able to handle herself. Surely, more were on their ways. More interestingly, some Monsters seemed to have been faster than the rest and already passed the front liner and were reaching the streets. Down below, two Yokai found preys. They bore green, thick skin and messy hair as well as a shell on their back; Kappas. They had found human preys in the form of two children, whom they were now dragging towards the water where a third Kappa was trying to break the ice, or find an entry, to quite possibly drown their victims. A quick fall and a flip later, and two of the Kappas would look behind them as their companion could be heard letting out a loud screeching sound and fall the the ground. Or rather, it's headless body did. Landing, slashing, body to the ground and, finally, head to the ground~ All of these produced a musical note that ended in a crescendo when the head finished rolling near the two others, Amélie standing between them and the two children. The two monsters charged. Lunge, trust, jump, spin, trust, slash - the monsters died to some magical piano melody as their blood was wiped from Amélie's ebony blade, who was standing straight, regal. The woman turned to the two children, her long, white hair following her movement perfectly. "You are safe now. Take care and leave as far as you can for now, please." There was glory and fame to be had in being a magical girl, but there was also lives to save. Down here, in this remote street far away from cameras and views, Amélie had long since made her choice.</s> <\|message\|>Masashi Yamada A star has arrived. There was a suddenly an explosion of black smoke along an unoccupied street. A black and purple pillar of shadows rose from the clearing smoke. The pillar had risen far above the surrounding buildings before its form extended a long flight of steps to the street, and a slightly more purple carpet of shadows materialized and rolled down the steps. With the remaining smoke clearing around where the steps stopped at, a figure emerged already taking the first step onto the stairs. A well dressed suit, gold trimmed, with armored pauldrons and a ring on one of his gloved hands. Masashi Yamada, the Fortunate Shadow, the self proclaimed prince of Arakawa. He had finally appeared on the scene, always one for his dramatic entrances. Due to the height of the stairs, he had them move and shuffle like an escalator to bring him to the top, stopping once he had reached the step below the top of his pillar. With a snap of his fingers and a stream of shadows from his ring, a throne formed itself out from the pillar's floor. Masashi had spent a great deal of practice to simulate a proper, comfortable seat made from his shadows. His real furniture at home were still more comfortable, but his current constructions was satisfactory nonetheless. Before he let himself sit, however, he turned to face the steps, to face the frozen bay and the gate of monsters. "Hmph! It seems it was a waste to come here after all! An easy task such as this is better suited for my personal servant!" Masashi explained with dramatic flair. He was always one to play character whenever he was 'on the job.' Always to try and put on a show. The height of his throne left room for long ranged support should that somehow be required, though he had no intention of actually getting his hands dirty if he could help it, but more importantly it was to ensure a bubble of personal space, a luxury that was rare when dealing with her. He raised his right towards the sky, facing the same direction upward as he began to shout. "I beseech the powers of lord Hades! From the deepest depths of the underworld, the infernal pits of Tartarus! Again I call upon a monster worthy to serve under my power! Come fourth, the Witch of Shadows, the Weaver of Night! Dispatch of these pests!" He chanted loudly, sounding like some kind of spell. His ring had glowed with black light while he had spoke. It something he had rehearsed and practiced unlike most of his abilities. In reality, the words had no purpose in the spell, it was just to draw attention to himself and to buy time. When he finished, the ring streamed a connection of shadows to an alleyway near where the steps he had summoned began. A predetermined spot he had planned with an accomplice. Another burst of smoke erupted through the streets from the desired point, this one lasting a bit longer to allow 'his servant' to get into position. The First few steps of the stairs had morphed completely within the smoke-formed shadows. Becoming something closer to a stage with steps on all three sides to the street. An archway standing at the center where the rug extended and continued to roll down the steps and off into the street to adjust the new structure. Two braziers simulating shadow-flames stood at either end of the front of this stage as the smoke started to clear. Before it fully cleared up, far above, Masashi had already taken his seat upon the throne with a devilish smirk.</s> <\|message\|>Haniwa, or Hani as most call her. --- Of all the times they had to bother her. Can't they just show up between work breaks at 12 to 1 pm, or after work at 6pm? The roar of the motorcycle drowned the normal Tokyo noise as she sped down the road. Ryofu ate the bun in one hand angrily, her golden hair streaked with red and green streaming in the wind. She looked, for lack of other words, like a fresh corpse came to life, with stiches, scars and bandages all over her body, and the pallid colour of her skin. Perhaps a terrifying sight for some, had the road revenant rider not also been known as the Red Rider of Ginza. "Get your ass in the fight, Shadow Boy!" With a honk of the horn, and a swerve, the bike turned sharply, the sheer speeds kicking up snow straight at Masahi. She could see there was already a few of them already fighting off the monsters streaming in from that gate, though even more still came in, threatening to overwhelm them by sheer numbers alone. Ryofu wasn't as lucky as the others in the youkais that attacked them. Several tengus immediately swooped down upon her, blades swinging wildly. It was said that tengus were great martial artists, and had swordsmanship beyond the common man. Of course, Ryofu wasn't a common man. Her weight shifted as the bike did a violent somersault, catching the blades on its undercarriage. If they had any thoughts of retreating out of the range of her attacks by flying away, it was swiftly cut short by the chains materializing from several magical circles around her, wrapping around their bodies like snakes. "Sky Piercer!" The bike slammed back onto the ground as she jumped upwards, pulling the chains towards her. There was an audible whirring noise as her arms manifested glowing blue lines, strengthening her body, before she slammed the bat into the chained up tengus. Each of them exploded violently into the parade of youkais, dotting the areas near the gate. "Shit, gonna have to explode the gate or something! They're coming out of it faster!" Pulling herself onto her still running bike with a chain, she jumped over the railings and into the frozen bay itself, one hand on her bat.</s>	<\|message\|>Jasmine Kotono The sight of a girl sprinting at top speed with a piece of toast in her mouth would be a typical sight, if not for the fact that this was Jasmine Kotono, a punk witch magical girl with a bandolier full of hot sauce and a massive cleaver slung over her right shoulder. Also, the toast was on fire. Jasmine produced a bottle and poured a line of flaming red sauce along the edge of her cleaver as she dashed out onto the ice. Why did monsters have to attack so early in the morning? Hell if she knew. The lack of caffeine was pissing her off, but she was generally pissed off whenever she happened to be in a fight anyways. She could grab coffee after, though. Now, it was time for breakfast. The witch inhaled her toast as she spotted her prey, which happened to be one of those weird hopping umbrella things. It'd do. Feeling an occult overflow of spice and the magical energy that fueled her powers, she dashed towards the yokai and sliced it in half before it had any chance to fight back. She reached out and grabbed the burning top half of the remains before it could hit the floor and melt a hole in the ice, chowing down on charred paper that somehow tasted like spicy heaven. Actually, she could probably take this one with- Her thoughts were interrupted as she took a club to the back, tumbling to the ground as she spotted an oni looming overhead. Any sense of dread was immediately overcome by anger as she noticed she was no longer holding her meal. "I was eating that, you piece of shit!" Jasmine roared, reaching for a bottle and spraying a burst of hellfire at the oni. She didn't even bother to watch it die as she reached for her new half-eaten umbrella, rolling around on the ice. She gobbled down the less weird-looking parts for a few moments before stopping to stare at the gate. Her peers could probably take care of the hordes, but she was eager to burn that thing down and go home. She broke into a sprint again, dodging, slicing, and burning her way through ever-increasing masses of yokai until she found herself surrounded. She made a rough estimate of their numbers. It was enough. She beckoned them closer before withdrawing a fresh bottle of sauce. They got ready to pounce… And Jasmine leapt. "Burn in hell!" She tossed the bottle to the ground. BOOM! A massive burst of flame erupted behind her as she hit the ground, red hot sauce burning its way through both the yokai and the ice they stood on, seawater boiling as it engulfed fire that it could not smother. There were no survivors... and no surviving snacks either, to Jasmine's annoyance. Well, that oughta thin 'em out a bit, at least… Time to do that to the gate.</s>
<\|description\|>Umiko Satsuma (薩摩海子) Age: 16 Appearance: Outside of her magical girl form, Umiko is fairly average in looks - which is why she tends to dye her hair, wear nice clothing and trendy accessories, and perfects her make-up routine. She is short, slender, and has an average bust. She's always well groomed and is particularly proud of her luscious locks of hair (which are currently purple, her original hair color is black). When transformed, Umiko's hair fluffs up and turns a varying shade of colors - it's actually so long that she keeps it in a ponytail after the first transformation, and is happy it's stayed that way since. She also gains some visual traits from her Patron: a matching fluffy tail, an extra set of pointed ears, and a horn that looks like it's made of gemstone. Her battle outfit is European in style, giving off the impression of a military official. Personality: First impressions paint Umiko as "perfect." She is kind and helpful, smart and athletic, and of course she is modest too. However, the longer one spends with her the more that impression starts to feel less than genuine. The perfect and proper class president persona is one Umiko has carefully crafted. In reality she is a normal teenage girl. She has strong emotions though she tries not to let the bad ones show through. She gets irritated and passive-aggressive. She cries when she's stressed. She hates getting flustered. She does like doting on underclassmen, and she is truthfully the kind that would go out of their way to help people, but she tends to take on more responsibility than she can handle and rather than admit she is overwhelmed, she will put on a painful smile and stubbornly trudge through. In that way, she is a bit hard-headed as well. Background: Umiko is currently going through her 2nd year in an all-girls high school. Her family moved her to an apartment closer to the school in Tokyo's central ward of Bunkyō just before Umiko's high school debut, and though it was initially a struggle to make friends Umiko has since risen to the level of class president with hard work and by tailoring her demeanor to those around her. She's very proud of herself, and she knows her parents would be proud too if they came around at all. As of now both of her parents work extremely demanding jobs and seldom visit, although at least one of them tries to schedule a phone call once a week or so. But that's alright! Umiko has become an expert in taking care of the home with her parents' absence. It's also taught her a lot about time management... and responsibility. That's why when her Patron reached out to her, Umiko knew the right thing to do was accept and use the power she was granted to help people. In return for spreading her Patron's influence (which she does by comparing herself to a Kirin) she received the ability to transform her body into that of a heroine. Balancing her school work, student council work, and magical work is no easy feat but Umiko certainly makes it look like it is - but perhaps it's only a matter of time before the balancing act topples over. Patron: Amalthea She-Goat Nymph, Foster Mother of Zeus Patron Tool: A shimmering shawl, when transformed it takes the form of Umiko's cape and shoulder guards. Patron Weapon: A sturdy yet stylish spear. Patron Aspect: Aegis Aspect Magic: The power of the Aegis is the epitome of defense. Nothing can pierce the ancient hide. For Umiko, this means that she has the ability to make things extremely tough. She can harden her own skin and make her body an impenetrable barrier, and she can apply the hardening to objects and other people. Making impromptu shields with unlikely items is well within her ability. It's also possible to change the density of an object, if only to make it heavier or return it to it's normal density. Using her Aspect Magic on herself changes her battle style to be slow and forceful, but she really prefers the faster pace of her spear. Other skills: Cooking, sewing, cleaning, passive-aggressiveness, compromising, track-and-field, calling up obscure facts. Other Mentions: n/a for now!</s> <\|message\|>Jasmine Kotono Jasmine Kotono The sight of a girl sprinting at top speed with a piece of toast in her mouth would be a typical sight, if not for the fact that this was Jasmine Kotono, a punk witch magical girl with a bandolier full of hot sauce and a massive cleaver slung over her right shoulder. Also, the toast was on fire. Jasmine produced a bottle and poured a line of flaming red sauce along the edge of her cleaver as she dashed out onto the ice. Why did monsters have to attack so early in the morning? Hell if she knew. The lack of caffeine was pissing her off, but she was generally pissed off whenever she happened to be in a fight anyways. She could grab coffee after, though. Now, it was time for breakfast. The witch inhaled her toast as she spotted her prey, which happened to be one of those weird hopping umbrella things. It'd do. Feeling an occult overflow of spice and the magical energy that fueled her powers, she dashed towards the yokai and sliced it in half before it had any chance to fight back. She reached out and grabbed the burning top half of the remains before it could hit the floor and melt a hole in the ice, chowing down on charred paper that somehow tasted like spicy heaven. Actually, she could probably take this one with- Her thoughts were interrupted as she took a club to the back, tumbling to the ground as she spotted an oni looming overhead. Any sense of dread was immediately overcome by anger as she noticed she was no longer holding her meal. "I was eating that, you piece of shit!" Jasmine roared, reaching for a bottle and spraying a burst of hellfire at the oni. She didn't even bother to watch it die as she reached for her new half-eaten umbrella, rolling around on the ice. She gobbled down the less weird-looking parts for a few moments before stopping to stare at the gate. Her peers could probably take care of the hordes, but she was eager to burn that thing down and go home. She broke into a sprint again, dodging, slicing, and burning her way through ever-increasing masses of yokai until she found herself surrounded. She made a rough estimate of their numbers. It was enough. She beckoned them closer before withdrawing a fresh bottle of sauce. They got ready to pounce… And Jasmine leapt. "Burn in hell!" She tossed the bottle to the ground. BOOM! A massive burst of flame erupted behind her as she hit the ground, red hot sauce burning its way through both the yokai and the ice they stood on, seawater boiling as it engulfed fire that it could not smother. There were no survivors... and no surviving snacks either, to Jasmine's annoyance. Well, that oughta thin 'em out a bit, at least… Time to do that to the gate.</s> <\|message\|>Chihaya Junnosuke --- Mentions: The clouds themselves would begin to part as laughter filled the sky. An antique ship pulled from the pages of history would make its descent from the heavens above, its golden-trimmed hull covered with a light frosting of snow. At the quarterdeck stood a young man in a dazzling officer's outfit, his hands confidently resting on his hips as he laughed heartily at the yokai below. Grand Admiral "J," as he was known to the general populace, or Chihaya Junnosuke to his true fans, has entered the battle fashionably late and with a wide grin on his face! "Sorry for taking my time, ladies and gent! Most of my morning is dedicated to 'me time.'" Jun said, with a grin. Of course, he is referring mainly to the time between 6:30 - 7:00 AM, where he would stare at himself in the mirror to ensure there were no blemishes on his perfect face. Only true fans would know this, it's on his Wiki page. As his ship, the Argo, continued to make his descent, the ship's bow began to glow faintly. "The monsters seem to be originating from the gate. Primary target identified." A voice spoke to Jun with a neutral tone from the ship, its voice androgynous. "Yup, could see that from a mile a way." Jun replied, his brow furrowed. "Calculating the best path towards primary target." As the Argo's systems scanned through the hordes of monsters, Jun watched as the other magical children of Tokyo fought their way through the hordes of yokai, waves of fire and ice crashing through the frozen riverbank! It also looks like someone has... started their own concert in the middle of all this? Either way, it seems that most of Tokyo's eyes were on the ground, rather than the skies. The consequences of being late. Jun already knew just how to make up for all that lost time. "Optimal path calculated. Proceed to-" "Don't care, didn't ask!" Jun grasped at the ship's wheel in front of him, spinning it dramatically as the ship made its nosedive towards the closest, biggest yokai in the horde; a giant hungry skeleton! Jun would cackle heroically as his ship's prow into the poor Gashadokuro, earning him another perfect strike on his bowling record before crashing into vast assortments of possessed furniture. Spinning the wheel into the opposite direction, the Argo would soon come to a screeching halt tearing through bits of the frozen bay and crushing any unfortunate yokai in its wake. "Hop on, everyone! It's time to bring the fight to them!" Jun shouted to the magical children on the ground, giving a valorous salute to them all. Cue the title card.</s>	<\|message\|>Umiko Satsuma (薩摩海子) Everything she needed for school was packed. Her uniform was clean and wrinkle-free. It was the start of a new week, which was when Umiko felt the most refreshed. The last thing she tended to do before heading out and trying to arrive early was check the television for any news that needed her attention. Most days there were mentions of small events like localized monster invasions that another "magical children" could handle in their ward, or single beasts that she could face off against and defeat before her day really got started. Right, Umiko was a magical girl tasked with protecting the city. `Reports state that the torii materialized earlier this morning. As of yet nothing else has happen— wait a moment. Back to our live feed—` The picture swapped from the anchor commentating over a photo of the gate to a slightly wobbly video of it. Even in the video it was clear to see that the structure was pulsing with magical energy. Before the feed got to show the torrent of yōkai Umiko was out the door of her apartment, a brilliant shining light masking her transformation before she leapt up to the rooftop, and from building to building towards the bay. ◈•̩̩͙◆•̩̩͙◈•̩̩͙◆•̩̩͙◈•̩̩͙◆•̩̩͙◈ She hadn't expected to be the first on the scene. There were other magical people who were stationed far closer to the bay, after all. Plus with this kind of attack, it was a given that many of them would make their way here. However, it looked like she'd lost some time on her way cleaning up the few flying monsters that had snuck by and tried making a move into the city proper. So she'd arrived a little later than she would have liked to - and after all of her neighbors, which was very annoying. Still, Umiko wasn't one to sulk for long (in public). She burst onto the scene from among the buildings lining the bay. There were a couple of magical people that hadn't yet advanced onto the ice. Umiko was quick to give her opinion out to those she saw, as was normal for the magical children that had worked alongside or adjacent to her before. That zombie delinquent rode by in a blaze, and though Umiko internally cringed at her vulgar language she did agree with the words themselves. "Make yourself useful and help protect the civilians," she told the shadow user. With her head held high and her magical uniform, Umiko had the appearance of a general all but commanding the young man, though experience told her that he was loathe to do what he was told. Umiko glanced at the magical musician and gave her an approving nod and a smile. Then she was off again, dashing onto the ice and thinking of her options while she moved forward following the wake of some of the others. Would her magic affect the torii? If she was able to sink it through the ice and into the bay, then what? She had to assume yōkai would still spill out of it, though hopefully the water would slow them significantly. The gate would most likely not be destroyed just by being submerged, so she would have to work on that with a few of the others. She noted that the water using... Calypso, was it? Was already on the scene. Umiko's advance was slowed by one of her neighbors, the punk girl, melting the ice in her path. She jumped over the newly opened patch in the ice and was, again, slowed by another neighbor - this one sliding his huge ship into the area. Umiko nearly collided with it, pivoting just before she crashed to land on it's side and push off with her feet, jumping up onto the deck. The look she gave Jun was far from amused, but since he was offering... "I'm not sure this ship will be swifter than going on foot," she greeted him with, "but we should hurry up regardless, we don't want this to go on for too long!" For multiple reasons, but the most pressing being she didn't want to suffer a tardy mark for being late to class.</s>
<\|description\|>Takeyama Matsuo * Character Name: Sefira Sylvanbelle * Race: Elf * Appearance: Blonde hair, blue eyes, light skin. Very short. Clothing is largely shades of blue. * Age: 21 * Personality: Matsuo is the no-nonsense type, one to take his studies as a university student very seriously. A dilligent student who refuses to accept nonsense, it would be a shock to many of his real life friends that Matsuo is something of fan of anime, manga, and video games. Indeed, his no-nonsense attitude and short temper would make this considerably unlikely. Indeed, due to his image as an excellent student, he felt self-conscious about how his hobbies might be seen and thus endeavored to keep it a secret from his real life friends. Matsuo is an especially big fan of character design, and one of the things that drew him to Emerald Odyssey was its robust character creator. Modeling his character on his favorite archetype, the surly and petite type of tsundere, Matsuo soon became an avid player of Emerald Odyssey. While he played the game to enjoy it, that didn't mean he took kindly to players who got themselves caught in AoEs that were obviously going to drop or completely failed to pay attention to what was going on around them. That being said, the fact that he was quite accomplished as a high burst damage mage(and a healer on the side even though he hated it) quickly made him a valuable party member. Matsuo's short temper and no-nonsense attitude were remarkably suited towards the role of a petite tsundere character, making it all the more ironic now that she has become one. Indeed, becoming Sefira is bound to be a shock, and she's going to have quite a struggle from now on... * History: A university student who lived a relatively normal life. Matsuo's background is nothing too surprising, though pressure to succeed from his parents was likely born from their own successes. Still, he enjoyed being a successful student. That being said, he also came to realize he needed something to release stress and alleviate the pressure, and after reading a light novel titled The Elven Mage Can't Stand Me began his journey into the world of anime, manga, and video games. Spending his time balancing his studies and his hobbies, he also became interested in Emerald Odyssey and was soon an avid player. Never once did he suspect that he would become his character... * Classes: + Starlight Mage: A burst damage class, Sefira as a Starlight Mage is capable of high-power ranged spells. Possessing low HP and low defense, her main defensive options in this class is the use of a barrier spell that prevents attacks from reaching her. Her basic attacks take the form of showers of blue magical bullets. In lore, Starlight Mages utilize the stars and constellations as a template for their spells. As a result, by invoking various constellations she can reduce casting times and increase damage. + Sage: A straightforward healing class, built for direct healing and resurrections of injured or fallen players. Sefira absolutely hates playing healer, and only started because her friends in game needed one. Having experienced almost no enjoyment from playing healer, she thus only uses it as an absolute last resort. Now that the game is real it may become different as it is far more important to ensure others wellbeing, but she would still much rather utilize her more offensive skillset. * Other: N/A</s> <\|message\|>Itouchi Horiyama Saito Souji Aluvera - City Square --- The screeches of a few harpies cried overhead as a few running citizens scampered away in fear for their lives. One of which tripped and fell, a young child by the looks of it as the harpy talons borne swooped in, the child would recoil in fear for the inevitable, yet... It did not come. A flutter of feathers followed by the multiple thuds as something fell from the air. The boy would open their eyes and see a black cloaked man holding a katana in between them. One look from the man and the child slowly got up, before being ushered away by their parent. "How curious, my body appears to simply move if I want to use my skills", he said to himself, as he made his way towards the city's square. Although... A monster attack in a sanctuary area, this was most certainly not part of the normal game, and the way the NPCs had reacted were far too advanced to be a scripted event, he had some knowledge of how games should work and... The technology should not be at this level yet. As he slowly made his way towards the city square, he had the opportunity to test out his techniques and get a feeling for fighting. Given where they were, and assuming it was all 'real'... Fighting would be inevitable, made very apparent by this event. He can think about what has happened later, he thought to himself. He soon found himself at the heart of the commotion, and there were already some people here fighting. Griffons and Sphinxes were present, a much greater foe than harpies. Given the strength of these enemies he should pick an enemy already being engaged with, and end them as soon as possible. He looked around and saw another swordsman charging at a Sphinx, and took it upon himself to assist him. Taking his katana in two hands he charged forward, "Myoujingiri!" He began to move quickly before disappearing into a blur, a flurry of slashes would make themselves visible followed by streaks of light lined up against the front legs and neck in various arrays, before he finally appeared at the front of the Sphinx. There was no tank holding the Sphinx's attention, and knowing that he aimed to end it as soon as he could.</s> <\|message\|>Kosame Ariyoshi Kokoma Aluvera - City Streets --- This was definitely Aluvera. The market, the sounds...ah, it was as if everything had gotten suddenly turned into glorious, 24k HD with photorealism. And it didn't seem like she was alone here either, if the perplexed gazes of a number of others were anything to go by. Still, she didn't pay them much mind as she'd sprint through the streets. She was just running from sheer excitement still at this point, not even bothering to register much of anything else. It wouldn't be until some minutes later she'd have finally managed to actually run out of breath, slowing to a walk as she'd still start looking in amazement at the city around her. It really couldn't be a dream now, could it? "Keaheheh~!" Kokoma visibly vibrated on the spot. If Tatl had been with her she'd probably have gotten whacked or something, if the spiders personality was anything like she imagined, but she couldn't help it. If her excitement levels were in fact, capable of going supernova, they definitely would have by now. "I...I can't...ahaah~" She was so caught up in her enjoyment, she hadn't first even registered the sky darkening. Her laughter though, would be cut short by the sound of something rocking the earth in the square not too far away. Her ears flicked in the direction of the noise, her head soon following suit as she'd also, see the sky above splitting open, monsters spilling forth. Someone else may have hesitated, or found this entire situation to be absurd, but those people just overthought everything as far as she cared - more importantly...someone looked completely out of place and some harpy was about to try making a snack out of them it seemed like. "Miss elf get down!" The smart, and logical thing here would be to attack the harpy with her spear...but Kokoma was completely forgetting she even had it. So instead, she'd focus on doing what she was attempting in a much more literal fashion - protect the cute looking confused elf. So instead of assaulting the harpy, she'd instead, seemingly assault Sefira. She'd tackle the elf, knocking the both of them out of the way of the harpy's talons, it screeching in mild annoyance as its prey would be taken from it. "Whew, good thing I was just walking on by." Kokoma would say, laying atop Sefira, not bothering to get up as she'd let her head rest on the other girls chest. "Ehehe, you can thank me for saving that cute butt of yours." She didn't realize it, but her tail was wagging fairly frantically back and forth. "...Cute chest too. Mind if I lay here for a bit longer, eheh~?"</s> <\|message\|>Takeyama Matsuo Matsuo-Or perhaps Sefira was more suitable at the moment-had only barely managed to tear her eyes away from her own reflection. To promptly stare at her own petite, slender, delicate hands in mute shock, but progress was progress. It was hard to do anything else. Her body had once been... well, a university-age man's. And now... Sefira looked like she was somewhere in her teens. Petite and youthful, with a figure lacking any real maturity. This was all by design. Matsuo had modeled Sefira on some of his favorite tsundere characters. He particularly liked the short ones who got angry for being mistaken for younger then they actually were. Of course that wasn't the only reason he liked them, they still had to be developed characters beyond that... But right now Sefira was cursing her own past decisions internally. Not only was she now female, but she was so small. It was going to be even harder to deal with! So caught up in her own thoughts was the blonde elf that she only registered something was coming at her moments before it actually struck. A part of her brain actually capable of making rational thoughts realized it was the familiar winged shape of a harpy. Another part of her wondered if she was about to get killed immediately after ending up in some kind of weird isekai scenario. If this was seriously going to be how her life ended. Everything was happening all at once. It was too much happening all at once. A part of her just wanted to scream. And then... Someone tackled her to the ground from the side. Sefira yelped as she hit the ground, landing on her back as her savior landed on top of her, both out of reach of those sweeping, grasping claws. For a few moments, Sefira simply laid there beneath her savior, her mind trying to catch up with the situation. At least until said savior decided to make comments about her figure. Almost immediately, in spite of everything, her cheeks reddened. "Wh-what are you, some kind of dirty old man!?" she shouted, unable to contain herself, "We're caught up in some kind of stupid isekai plot and now there's monsters, and you're... y-you're..." Even thinking about her own body was embarrassing at this point. "We need to g-get... just let me up! Gaaaah..." Flustered, trying to collect her thoughts, Sefira glanced skywards. There really was a lot of other monsters, and the sky had gotten dark... Wait. If she was Sefira now, did that mean...?</s> <\|message\|>Kosame Ariyoshi Kokoma Aluvera - City Streets --- "I'm adorable, thanks for noticing~" Kokoma would reply to Sefira with a impish chuckle, rolling off the elf and sitting on the ground next to her, tail still aggressively wagging. She seemed to either not hear or chose to ignore the old man comment in favor of completely missing the context of the 'you're' part of that sentence. "But jeez, not even a thanks? That cute butt of yours was about to become harpy feed." A brief pout, ears drooping slightly. "I take cuddles, pets and any display of affection as payment. If you're feeling particularly frisky your body works too kehahah~" Her mouth would curl into a teasing grin. Despite her seeming nonchalance about this entire situation, Kokoma did in fact, realize the sort of danger they were in, which is why she as choosing to stay with this girl for the moment instead of running off. No cute girl was gonna get harmed on her watch, no sir~ "Hup," She'd jump up from her sitting position, looking towards the square with a bit of interest after finishing her teasing. "Eheh, you look like you could use Kokoma's protection, so I'll go with ya for now yeah?~ Don't worry, I'm good at that."</s>	<\|message\|>Takeyama Matsuo Upon realizing that she hadn't actually thanked her savior, Sefira quickly stumbled to her feet the moment she was free. "Er... thanks," she said, averting her eyes as she spoke. The girl's bizarre behavior was still an enigma. Why would anyone be handling a situation like this... like that?! Wait, what was that?! "M-m-m-my b-body?! I-I... y-you... C-can't you take things a little more seriously?!" she cried, waving her hands in the air as if to gesture to the world around them, "We're in some weird isekai scenario, at least assuming you're another player, and I-" She hesitated. Saying she was actually a guy out loud would be way too much, especially when it came to someone weird like this and especially right now. She was barely managing to deal with that rather major change internally, if she tried to say anything about it there was no way it'd make it any easier if she blurted it out to the first stranger she ran into. Especially since the first stranger she ran into was some kind of weird pervert or something. Sefira took a deep breath. "N-nevermind," she said, her eyes turning skywards once more. There were monsters attacking from the skies. She recognized harpies like the one that attacked her, griffons, and sphinxes. Sphinxes? What were they even doing here? "I-if we run, we'll probably just be attacked again," she said, trying to keep the subject off anything embarrassing and on the problem at hand as best she could, "Hmph, what the hell kind of game balance is this, just dropping monsters on a city..." Then again, it was real now, so game balance probably didn't matter. What did matter was the clear and immediately danger to her and everyone else around her. The blonde elf looked down at her delicate hands again. Maybe...</s>
<\|description\|>Takeyama Matsuo * Character Name: Sefira Sylvanbelle * Race: Elf * Appearance: Blonde hair, blue eyes, light skin. Very short. Clothing is largely shades of blue. * Age: 21 * Personality: Matsuo is the no-nonsense type, one to take his studies as a university student very seriously. A dilligent student who refuses to accept nonsense, it would be a shock to many of his real life friends that Matsuo is something of fan of anime, manga, and video games. Indeed, his no-nonsense attitude and short temper would make this considerably unlikely. Indeed, due to his image as an excellent student, he felt self-conscious about how his hobbies might be seen and thus endeavored to keep it a secret from his real life friends. Matsuo is an especially big fan of character design, and one of the things that drew him to Emerald Odyssey was its robust character creator. Modeling his character on his favorite archetype, the surly and petite type of tsundere, Matsuo soon became an avid player of Emerald Odyssey. While he played the game to enjoy it, that didn't mean he took kindly to players who got themselves caught in AoEs that were obviously going to drop or completely failed to pay attention to what was going on around them. That being said, the fact that he was quite accomplished as a high burst damage mage(and a healer on the side even though he hated it) quickly made him a valuable party member. Matsuo's short temper and no-nonsense attitude were remarkably suited towards the role of a petite tsundere character, making it all the more ironic now that she has become one. Indeed, becoming Sefira is bound to be a shock, and she's going to have quite a struggle from now on... * History: A university student who lived a relatively normal life. Matsuo's background is nothing too surprising, though pressure to succeed from his parents was likely born from their own successes. Still, he enjoyed being a successful student. That being said, he also came to realize he needed something to release stress and alleviate the pressure, and after reading a light novel titled The Elven Mage Can't Stand Me began his journey into the world of anime, manga, and video games. Spending his time balancing his studies and his hobbies, he also became interested in Emerald Odyssey and was soon an avid player. Never once did he suspect that he would become his character... * Classes: + Starlight Mage: A burst damage class, Sefira as a Starlight Mage is capable of high-power ranged spells. Possessing low HP and low defense, her main defensive options in this class is the use of a barrier spell that prevents attacks from reaching her. Her basic attacks take the form of showers of blue magical bullets. In lore, Starlight Mages utilize the stars and constellations as a template for their spells. As a result, by invoking various constellations she can reduce casting times and increase damage. + Sage: A straightforward healing class, built for direct healing and resurrections of injured or fallen players. Sefira absolutely hates playing healer, and only started because her friends in game needed one. Having experienced almost no enjoyment from playing healer, she thus only uses it as an absolute last resort. Now that the game is real it may become different as it is far more important to ensure others wellbeing, but she would still much rather utilize her more offensive skillset. * Other: N/A</s> <\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Myrtle Bramblewood Sen Rynta — Wellspring Park Myrtle smiled nervously, scratching her cheek with her index finger. "Y-yeah, good on me… and good on her too…" T-that's right! I'm not in the wrong here! She's in a better place now, with me! "H-hey, Azure. You're happy with me being your master, right?" The maid tilted her head. "Yes. I am readonably happy. Though I would be happier if you would act more lady-like, Miss. For starters, you should wear longer dresses. I know you're an adventurer and all but whenever I see you wearing those short dresses, I can't help but worry you'll expose yourself." Oh, thank God she's hap— Wait, what did she say about my dresses? Hey! It took me days designing all of them! I won't let you talk badly about them! She wasn't a weaver herself, of course, but she had worked with a friend of hers who was one. She provided the funds and the design, commissioning them to actually manufacture the outfit. She pouted at the maid, putting one hand on her hip, cocking it to the side. "Hmph, you don't have to worry. I know how to sit properly." After all, she already wore short skirts in real life. The maid took a long, deep sigh. "It's not just that. You have to be careful with the wind as well. You know that today, I already caught a glimpse of your undergarments multiple times from it." Hearing this, Myrtle's cheeks immediately reddened. "W-what?! You can't say that! And in front of a stranger too!" "Ehem!" Their conversation was interrupted by none other than the Belva youth. And he seemed to be quite annoyed, judging by his sharp gaze and folded arms. He then told Myrtle that they should probably move the unconscious man somewhere else that wasn't in the middle of the road. And by them, he meant him, as he was already dragging the NPC on his own. He might be small but his strength certainly wasn't lacking. Wow, that feels weird… watching a kid drag an adult like that. Oops, can't call a Belva a kid. Especially since whoever is playing him, they are certainly not one. She walked over to him once he finished with a smile. "Hey, why don't we exchange contacts? I'm a proficient alchemist. If you need anything, I can sell it to you at a discount." She winked. "And as people who are now stuck in this world, we should stick together."</s> <\|message\|>Kosame Ariyoshi Kokoma Aluvera - City Streets --- "Uhmu?" Kokoma would tilt her head quizzically, helping Sefira onto her mount. It was brief, but she was fairly certain she heard 'Sefira' mention another name. Takeyamat? No, that didn't make any sense. Takeyama? That was a better sounding name- Wait. Oh. that's why this adorable girl was being all nervous. "Pfft-" Kokoma held a hand over her mouth, stifling laughter. Oh that was great! This adorable little kid, ahaahah! Realistically something like that wouldn't be uncommon in mmo's and stuff, but it was probably still rather disorienting to just suddenly find yourself genderbent. Hmhm...well, she could say something, but where would the fun be in that for now? No, she'd wait a minute and catch her off guard when she least expected it. "Well, nice to meet ya 'Sefira'. Don't worry your cute little ears over anything, you're safe with me~" Somehow, she'd probably get the feeling she was the opposite of safe. "Alrighty! Lets go monster hunting! Yahooo~! Keep your legs inside the vehicle at all times, and your arms wrapped firmly around Kokoma's waist unless you wanna be knocked off~!" With a howl of excitement, her mount too would bound towards the outskirts of the city. While most of the monsters seemed to have been dealt with near the center, it'd probably be a good idea to make sure there was nothing left around the less traveled parts of the city.</s>	<\|message\|>Takeyama Matsuo As Sefira very reluctantly placed her hands on Kokoma's waist, trying to do everything she could to avoid touching the other girl in any place that was even more awkward then that, a distinct feeling of dread welled up within her. As if she had indeed let slip something that was going to make her future considerably more awkward and embarrassing then it would have otherwise. As if Kokoma had caught what she'd nearly let spill. For a few moments, all she could do is dwell on that possibility, and all this girl knowing that could entail. But there were more pressing matters at hand. The monster attack on the city would never have happened back when Emerald Odyssey was a game. It was an immediate and obvious rule change. Was it simply a result of the game now becoming reality? Or was there something more going on here? Could it even be tied to the reason she and likely many others had now become their characters in the game's world? For that matter, the NPCs she passed by were hiding, some checking on the injured, others arming themselves and looking skywards to make sure no more monsters were approaching... It was nothing like the NPCs of the game, which were more like background scenery or stood around in one place until they played their part in a given quest. It stood to reason that if the rest of the world was real, so too were the people who lived in it. There were considerably more as well... Thinking about these changes helped keep her mind off of the fact her slender legs felt sore from riding the beast, and that she was still holding onto a girl's waist this whole time. Sefira took a deep breath. "I'm guessing you got here the same way?" she asked Kokoma, "You tried to log in after the new expansion dropped, and then there was a bright flash of light? Hmph, what kind of stupid isekai setup is this...?"</s>
<\|description\|>Takeyama Matsuo * Character Name: Sefira Sylvanbelle * Race: Elf * Appearance: Blonde hair, blue eyes, light skin. Very short. Clothing is largely shades of blue. * Age: 21 * Personality: Matsuo is the no-nonsense type, one to take his studies as a university student very seriously. A dilligent student who refuses to accept nonsense, it would be a shock to many of his real life friends that Matsuo is something of fan of anime, manga, and video games. Indeed, his no-nonsense attitude and short temper would make this considerably unlikely. Indeed, due to his image as an excellent student, he felt self-conscious about how his hobbies might be seen and thus endeavored to keep it a secret from his real life friends. Matsuo is an especially big fan of character design, and one of the things that drew him to Emerald Odyssey was its robust character creator. Modeling his character on his favorite archetype, the surly and petite type of tsundere, Matsuo soon became an avid player of Emerald Odyssey. While he played the game to enjoy it, that didn't mean he took kindly to players who got themselves caught in AoEs that were obviously going to drop or completely failed to pay attention to what was going on around them. That being said, the fact that he was quite accomplished as a high burst damage mage(and a healer on the side even though he hated it) quickly made him a valuable party member. Matsuo's short temper and no-nonsense attitude were remarkably suited towards the role of a petite tsundere character, making it all the more ironic now that she has become one. Indeed, becoming Sefira is bound to be a shock, and she's going to have quite a struggle from now on... * History: A university student who lived a relatively normal life. Matsuo's background is nothing too surprising, though pressure to succeed from his parents was likely born from their own successes. Still, he enjoyed being a successful student. That being said, he also came to realize he needed something to release stress and alleviate the pressure, and after reading a light novel titled The Elven Mage Can't Stand Me began his journey into the world of anime, manga, and video games. Spending his time balancing his studies and his hobbies, he also became interested in Emerald Odyssey and was soon an avid player. Never once did he suspect that he would become his character... * Classes: + Starlight Mage: A burst damage class, Sefira as a Starlight Mage is capable of high-power ranged spells. Possessing low HP and low defense, her main defensive options in this class is the use of a barrier spell that prevents attacks from reaching her. Her basic attacks take the form of showers of blue magical bullets. In lore, Starlight Mages utilize the stars and constellations as a template for their spells. As a result, by invoking various constellations she can reduce casting times and increase damage. + Sage: A straightforward healing class, built for direct healing and resurrections of injured or fallen players. Sefira absolutely hates playing healer, and only started because her friends in game needed one. Having experienced almost no enjoyment from playing healer, she thus only uses it as an absolute last resort. Now that the game is real it may become different as it is far more important to ensure others wellbeing, but she would still much rather utilize her more offensive skillset. * Other: N/A</s> <\|message\|>Guy Parison. Magnificus the Ingenious \\: Location: Sen Rynta \| Windy Plains - Outskirts _ He nodded sagely as the still unnamed knightly lady recommended the safer path of simply camping outside. Seems they weren't the only ones around here who took that route either. It made sense for folks to just camp by civilization though. Any adventurer worth their salt would be prepared to spend a night or three camped out in the wilds which really seemed to call to mind just what on earth these noobly players he had shared the road with were planning. He wouldn't be surprised if they had set out in foolish haste, their preparation inversely proportionate to their eagerness to explore. Ah well, it wouldn't matter. After tonight he'd be back on the road, off to find Sen Rynta's mines so he might plunder them of precious minerals. With that in mind he set down his turrets, the disc bound orbs chiming to attention and placed down his shield generator which resembled the turrets except instead of discs this orb hovered atop a small engraved pillar of black stone with a mana gem set in a recess right in the center of the pillar. As the shield generator activated it projected it's mana blue semi-transparent film across a twenty meter in diameter dome, the borders clinging to the contours of the earth's dips and grooves. The shield generator is capable of creating a full three hundred and sixty degree sphere of protection however it's unable to bisect solid matter present in it's borders, limiting it to the unoccupied spaces it can fill until more space is opened up for it to occupy. Now that he was protected from outside intruders, attacks and even certain weather conditions like rain he simply pulled out a foldable lawn chair he had built for comfy camping times, laid back and breathed a nice long sigh of relief. Life as a technomancer really was a treat. It didn't matter if you were pretty or even likeable, with smarts beamed directly into your head by the game itself you could carve your own luck out. All you needed was some spirit, creativity and an eye for opportunity. At least, that's what he told himself. _ Speaking of opportunity an old man of eastern garb resting against the nearby tree which was partially clipped through the force field stirred. "Aah... Sorry 'bout that. I thought I felt something off just now. Need to go check the source of that out tomorrow..." Magnificus grinned, rising up from his lawn chair before folding it up and tucking it under his arm. With chair under arm he approached the old man, wearing an intrigued yet friendly-ish smirk as he came to a stop at a socially acceptable distance. "Ah, a fellow hat aficionado I see. A fine choice indeed..." He opened the conversation, trying his best to sound mysterious and/or cool despite being really neither as he awkwardly leaned on his lawn chair that was just a bit too short to really lean on evenly. "No need to apologize, one should definitely trust their instincts, especially in a world such as this." Deciding to give up on trying to lean on the lawn chair he simply quick-flicked it back into his inventory, standing back up straight before offering his hand forward in an offer to shake. "My name is Magnificus, Magnificus the Ingenious as nobody calls me. Feel free to call me Mag." In truth there wasn't too much reason to get all caught up in some old guy talking to himself but quite frankly any company would be preferrable to the knight of cold shoulders and that sour patch kid. _ @Operator Luna@Hammerman</s> <\|message\|>Takeyama Matsuo "..." The experience of a thorough cleaning the first time she ever removed her clothing after becoming Sefira was possibly the most embarrassing experience of her life. The elf, cheeks still deeply flushed, was now hugging her knees up to her slender body, silently giving the shenke quite a look. Cute new body this, take care of herself that... it wasn't as if she didn't know these things, but that didn't mean that having someone else do it for her was any less embarrassing. Especially when that person had serious case of wandering hands. Still, at least she was clean now. All the goo was gone. Her hair, her skin... everything. Her eyes drifted down to regard her own body for a moment, before she found her cheeks growing even hotter and quickly averted her eyes again. It was bad enough after being washed like that, but Sefira felt even more embarrassed with Kokoma still present... She was a little surprised when the other girl started talking about her life before the game suddenly became real. She worked at a Black Company? That sounded miserable. Not that it excused her behavior, but no wonder she seemed to be throwing herself into this new world with gusto. Still, that didn't mean acting this way was appropriate! "... I'm a university student," Sefira said, after a few moments of hesitation, "I was working on my studies, I played Emerald Odyssey as one of my hobbies." @PKMNB0Y</s> <\|message\|>Agaue Selinofoto Agaue Selinofoto Miura Yui Location: Sen Rynta - Sanctuary @A Lowly Wretch --- --- Yui could honestly do not much more than stare at Magnificus' sad attempt of striking up a conversation, especially a trap conversation. The old man was nonetheless an NPC with a glaringly obvious, but not visible, quest symbol above his head. She waved away her shield and lance, pulling out her tent and sleeping bag from the inventory. Sleep, food, and preparing for travel tomorrow morn was more important than the trouble that Magnificus was about to stir up. Despite her thoughts, Yui herself was curious. Did the developers program him to have a tingle too? Was her intuition better or worse than what it was? What is the source he spoke of? All these questions, and Yui knew the only answer to them would come from this man, so she too walked towards the eccentric pair, standing up stiffly with her arms across her chest. "What do you mean by that?", she asked bluntly. There was no point beating around the bush, small talk could wait later. She was still hungry after all.</s> <\|message\|>Kosame Ariyoshi Kokoma --- "Hobbies, huh." Kokoma would sink a bit into the water. "Having hobbies must have been nice..." A moment of silence followed as the Shenke just let herself be immersed in the water. University had been a pretty long time ago for her, and she had been playing Emerald Odyssey since day one, or close to it hadn't she? Jeez, so long. She'd start tilting her head back and forth as she thought, a small bit of frustration forming in her mind. "Bwahaha, now I feel like an old woman complaining like this!" Before it grew to big though, the Shenke would hop up, getting to her feet. "Alright lets get dressed! We're probably clean enough and those guys are probably hopeless without us." She'd grab Sefira and pull her too her feet...where she would promptly resume normal behavior and 'help' the girl dress herself. Supposing Sefira didn't attempt blasting her with magic during the process, the two would hopefully be back at camp soon enough.</s>	<\|message\|>Takeyama Matsuo For a few moments, Sefira found herself regarding the shenke as more of a person as opposed to a ball of raving perversity. It was an insight into who she was beyond the fact her hands tended to wander. Of course, she soon received a stark reminder of those habits when they got out of the water. "H-hey-" In some ways, this was worse then being undressed. For while she was now dry and clean, her Starlight Mage outfit was not yet ready to wear. Which meant the clothing she had prepared was for her other class. Sefira didn't like playing Sage. She didn't take the class seriously. It was a backup, meant only for when she had no choice but to play healer. So, unlike her Starlight Mage gear, she'd paid no attention to making it look like a serious mage outfit. She'd just gone for something that looked cute. As she squirmed, forced into her Sage gear, the reality of the situation was upon her. For Sefira was now wearing a schoolgirl uniform. A red ribbon around her neck, the familiar white and blue colors. A pleated blue skirt and black thigh-high socks with remarkably modern-looking shoes for a game set in a fantasy world. It had been an event outfit. "... A-ah... aaah..." Worst still was the 'headpiece', a pair of ribbons that pulled her hair up into lengthy pigtails. "..." Blushing furiously, her entire face practically glowing red, the blonde elf made her way back to camp.</s>
<\|description\|>Itouchi Horiyama Character Name: Saito Souji Race: Human Age: 24 Personality: Itouchi is a somewhat reserved individual, as one might expect from a young Japanese man, however he has a particular sense of judgement. He is prone to making his own conclusions about other people, and while he may not act on those conclusions without further observation, he can break that rule should the person in question be of distaste to him. In particular, those who treat others horribly, who act in service of only themselves, or if they act childishly and waste people's time. Normally he would simply avoid them, but there are times when he may confront them if he believes that not doing so would seriously harm the group. Despite his rather strong sense of judgement, he's a friendly person, though perhaps due to being reserved, acts somewhat formally most of the time. There are times when around close friends he may act much less so, making more jokes and acting somewhat more carefree. Perhaps something one might notice is a particularly fondness for the Shinsengumi, and though it is not as obvious as it used to be, the leftovers of that more pronounced phase of his remain in his name. History: Itouchi like many young men graduating university, would find themselves applying for a company and then working there as a salaryman. He was rather fortunate to find a good company, having had a rather normal upbringing. It was this somewhat normal lifestyle combined with the more lonely lifestyle of a salaryman that perhaps pushed him towards Emerald Odyssey, seeking something a little more exciting between work days. He started playing roughly three or four years ago, and for the first few of those he became an accomplished raider, perhaps the very best for one of the expansions, but stopped after realizing the stress it was beginning to put him under. Though he is thankful for those years as it has shaped him into a more than competent player, both overall skill with the game, and when it comes to playing with other people which was a central component. From then on he normally just played the game with friends, only delving into difficult content on a casual basis. Class(es): * Samurai - [Katana] - A melee DPS class that utilizes a Katana. A swift and agile class boasting high critical rate and critical damage that aims to move through droves of enemies with very few strokes of the blade. As a drawback, their damage if they do not land a precise strike would be more than underwhelming, and defensive capabilities are nearly none, preferring to avoid blocking with their weapon. They have access to perhaps the fastest set of weapon skills called Battoujutsu, where the samurai may resheathe their weapon, gathering up their focus and spiritual energy before unleashing it in an impressive display of blinding speed. * Kagemusha - [Nodachi] - Meaning "shadow warrior", a tank class that utilizes a Nodachi. In particular they make use of shadowy decoys to gain the attention of the enemy and even confuse them, as well as creating veils of shadow over their allies in order to hide them or guard them from attack. Every shadow generated costs a portion of the Kagemusha's health pool, however should these decoys slay enemies or deal sufficient damage, they can return to the Kagemusha to restore their health. * Ashigaru - [Matchlock Firearms] - A ranged DPS class that utilizes matchlock firearms. Though it has a low firing rate compared to many if not all ranged classes, it boasts high damage per shot, and the highest critical damage of ranged classes. Despite being a ranged DPS class, it is frequently seen fighting in close quarters, only retreating to fire off their fatal shots. The Ashigaru also use matchlock handguns in these situations, with skills based around evasion and breaking armor. This class is also known to be a popular secondary, as the handguns can be used alongside any weapon that can be wielded with one hand. Non-Combat * Blacksmith - Though he doesn't delve a lot into crafting, he found himself making use of blacksmith frequently to maintain his weapons. He can craft new ones too, but for some reason the best weapons he can craft are all for his classes. Blacksmith as a profession is quite popular as people need or want new shiny gear all the time, and while he is not a reputed crafter, the katana that he can craft are of top quality... And nothing else. Other: * His character name Saito Souji is a combination of Hajime Saito and Okita Souji. * Kagemusha refers to a political term coined during the Sengoku period meaning "shadow warrior", and means to refer to body doubles, thus the protective nature of the class. * The coat he wears is obtained from PvP, and was a limited run at the time. Very few players have it. * He has a small player home in the eastern region.</s> <\|message\|>Sunohara Ryou Sunohara Ryou With maintenance all but finished and the newest expansion pack pre-downloaded, Ryou was more than ready to dive into Emerald Odyssey and start streaming. He had made sure that his setup was in perfect order the night before—triple-checked it, even—which left him precious little to worry about now. With a few people buzzing about in the pre-stream lobby, the young man was more than ready to greet his viewers and dive into the new content with everyone. The amount of congestion the servers had to face on patch day was oddly absent, though—a fact that struck Ryou as odd, but one that he chose not to question. After all, looking this sort of gift horse in the mouth was a bit rude, especially when it was most certaily in his favor. But as he moved to log in, his character selected and the loading splash screen appeared on his monitor... White. His vision was overwhelmed in an instant by something far beyond what any sort of monitor could produce normally. There was no time to react or respond, and before he could even make a single sound in response—— Shokatsu YuAluvera — Silverfield Inn "...Eh?" Blinding though that all-consuming white had been, the young man found that both it and any aftereffects that it might have left were nowhere to be found. While that might have been reason to breathe easy, it took no more than a few passing seconds for him to realize that something was most definitely wrong. After all, his computer and everything around it had been replaced by a simple wooden desk, and his room far less... 'Modern' than he last remembered. Though that oddity was at the forefront of his mind, nothing had truly quite processed yet—not until he got up and looked out the window. It was the middle of the afternoon when he had logged on, but with the amount of sunlight streaming through past the curtains, it felt more like early morning instead. Of course, even a single glance outside the window would cause things to start falling into place. He had read enough stories to understand what had happened, and though he was still unaware of exactly why something like this had happened, it was almost undeniable that the world outside was undoubtedly a locale he was incredibly familiar with despite not being anywhere in Japan—or on Earth, for that matter. "This has to be a joke, right?" Though still somewhat in denial despite how his voice sounded slightly off, Ryou glanced around once before walking into the washroom, clinging onto some faint hope that this was all some sort of last-moment fever dream. But when he splashed water on his face and glanced at himself in the mirror, that hope, too, came crashing down. After all, it was not the face of Sunohara Ryou looking at him, but that of Shokatsu Yu, his character. "...I guess not." Of course, it was not panic that overtook him immediately after; with a few deep breaths, Yu had shaken at least some of the chaos running through his head as he began to consider the implications of what his current position was. After all, with isekai settings having become so commonplace, it wasn't as if he was left without any direction to center his thoughts. "So I'm in the world of the game as the character I main. There was no indication of what the cause was, nor what will get me to return immediately..." he muttered to himself, flicking the water off of his face as he left the washroom, "...Which means that the first thing to determine is whether or not I'm the only one in this world now." Centered though his words may have been, though, Yu could feel his heart pounding as he promptly left the room and the inn proper; whether it was out of excitement or fear, even he couldn't quite tell. --- Aluvera — City Streets Clean though the air on the streets of Aluvera were (or, well, as clean as you could expect), the state of the actual city seemed to be... Less than orderly. There was nothing like rioting or havoc on the streets, but the amount of people clearly trying to process the situation was more than Yu could count. In this case, though, that was probably a good thing; after all, that meant that he wasn't alone here. The grander implications of that soon crossed his mind, though, and before long, Yu found himself walking through the city, trying to find someone—anyone—that he knew among the crowd. All the while, of course, the young man began to half-awkwardly fiddle with the empty air with his right hand, hoping that at least some part of the game beyond his current personage was carried over. After all, finding something as basic as an inventory or friends list would be astronomically helpful at a time like this...</s> <\|message\|>Takeyama Matsuo The fact that the servers were so clear was strange. Matsuo hadn't expected that. He'd managed to set aside time to try out the new expansion, but he really hadn't expected to be able to log in so easily. Much stranger, however, was the flash of white light that filled his vision almost as soon as the loading splash screen appeared. When it faded, the university student was in for a considerable shock. He was no longer in his room, in front of his computer. There was a wide street in front of him, blanked by various shops. Familiar shops. Shops from Emerald Odyssey. He'd logged off in the Aluvera shopping district. And now he appeared to be standing in it, surrounded by people going about their daily business. NPCs going about their daily business. Considerably more then filled the streets normally, but there was no mistaking his surroundings. "Am I dre-" Matsuo cut himself off, clutching at his throat. His skin felt soft and smooth. His neck felt slender. And his voice... That wasn't his voice. It was a girl's voice. That was absolutely a girl's voice. A cute, somewhat higher-pitched girl's voice. Shakily, the university student raised his hand harder, bringing both of them to his delicate chin and jaw, his soft cheeks, his dainty nose... running his hands through lengthy, silky blonde hair. This couldn't be real. Matsuo's heart was beating faster. His breathing was getting harder. "N-no way, right?" he asked himself, in that voice that didn't suit his real life self in the least, "I'm dreaming. I have to be. There's no way. I fell asleep waiting for the expansion to drop. That has to be it." Slowly, Matsuo located the nearest shopfront window. He had to see his reflection. He found one to the right side of the street. Looking back at him was the petite, slender figure of a small girl, with bright blue eyes and lengthy blonde hair. And pointed ears. In a blue Starlight Mage's outfit. Matsuo slowly placed a hand to her cheek and pinched herself. She didn't wake up. "No way no way no way no way," she repeated to herself multiple times, shaking, "This can't be real! I have... I have university to... how?! I... wh-what kind of isekai setup is this?! I-I'm Sefira?!" She took a step away from her reflection, her petite body shaking, blue eyes wide. There was no way something like this could ever happen. She felt certain of that. And yet this wasn't a dream. She felt pain. She felt a lot of things, the air on her skin, the ground beneath her feet, everything. There was no way it was a dream. Not only was Matsuo in Emerald Odyssey, but he had become his character, Sefira Sylvanbelle.</s>	<\|message\|>Itouchi Horiyama Saito Souji Aluvera - City Streets --- The sound of murmuring crowds both familiar and not so filled his ears, the bustling views of Aluvera were spread before him in a somewhat unfamiliar angle, and most importantly... He wasn't at home anymore. The immediate first thing he did in this situation was look around, before he'd start wandering. It would not be much longer than a dozen seconds before he'd notice the clothes he was in, what he was carrying, and then soon confirming his face in a glass window pane. He sighed, and then appeared to accept that this is what had indeed happened. He looked around and began to wander the city streets, and... It was possible this might have been some strange dream. There were many others who reacted in varying ways to what appeared to be the same situation, based on some exclamations. Characters he recognized as part of the city's population, NPCs, did not appear at all alarmed. Well, for the time being, he decided to get a handle on what was happening. By some miraculous feat, players were sent into Emerald Odyssey, all he remembered was logging in then looking away to grab his dinner. Not to mention, it seems people were now their characters too... He recalled hearing someone yell and reveal something to the extent that their character was not their gender. He looked down upon the two blades at his waist, so he is currently his main class Samurai. He was eager to see what this all meant for their skills and classes, but for now while he was here he should probably take stock of this situation as he continued to wander around Aluvera.</s>
<\|description\|>Itouchi Horiyama Character Name: Saito Souji Race: Human Age: 24 Personality: Itouchi is a somewhat reserved individual, as one might expect from a young Japanese man, however he has a particular sense of judgement. He is prone to making his own conclusions about other people, and while he may not act on those conclusions without further observation, he can break that rule should the person in question be of distaste to him. In particular, those who treat others horribly, who act in service of only themselves, or if they act childishly and waste people's time. Normally he would simply avoid them, but there are times when he may confront them if he believes that not doing so would seriously harm the group. Despite his rather strong sense of judgement, he's a friendly person, though perhaps due to being reserved, acts somewhat formally most of the time. There are times when around close friends he may act much less so, making more jokes and acting somewhat more carefree. Perhaps something one might notice is a particularly fondness for the Shinsengumi, and though it is not as obvious as it used to be, the leftovers of that more pronounced phase of his remain in his name. History: Itouchi like many young men graduating university, would find themselves applying for a company and then working there as a salaryman. He was rather fortunate to find a good company, having had a rather normal upbringing. It was this somewhat normal lifestyle combined with the more lonely lifestyle of a salaryman that perhaps pushed him towards Emerald Odyssey, seeking something a little more exciting between work days. He started playing roughly three or four years ago, and for the first few of those he became an accomplished raider, perhaps the very best for one of the expansions, but stopped after realizing the stress it was beginning to put him under. Though he is thankful for those years as it has shaped him into a more than competent player, both overall skill with the game, and when it comes to playing with other people which was a central component. From then on he normally just played the game with friends, only delving into difficult content on a casual basis. Class(es): * Samurai - [Katana] - A melee DPS class that utilizes a Katana. A swift and agile class boasting high critical rate and critical damage that aims to move through droves of enemies with very few strokes of the blade. As a drawback, their damage if they do not land a precise strike would be more than underwhelming, and defensive capabilities are nearly none, preferring to avoid blocking with their weapon. They have access to perhaps the fastest set of weapon skills called Battoujutsu, where the samurai may resheathe their weapon, gathering up their focus and spiritual energy before unleashing it in an impressive display of blinding speed. * Kagemusha - [Nodachi] - Meaning "shadow warrior", a tank class that utilizes a Nodachi. In particular they make use of shadowy decoys to gain the attention of the enemy and even confuse them, as well as creating veils of shadow over their allies in order to hide them or guard them from attack. Every shadow generated costs a portion of the Kagemusha's health pool, however should these decoys slay enemies or deal sufficient damage, they can return to the Kagemusha to restore their health. * Ashigaru - [Matchlock Firearms] - A ranged DPS class that utilizes matchlock firearms. Though it has a low firing rate compared to many if not all ranged classes, it boasts high damage per shot, and the highest critical damage of ranged classes. Despite being a ranged DPS class, it is frequently seen fighting in close quarters, only retreating to fire off their fatal shots. The Ashigaru also use matchlock handguns in these situations, with skills based around evasion and breaking armor. This class is also known to be a popular secondary, as the handguns can be used alongside any weapon that can be wielded with one hand. Non-Combat * Blacksmith - Though he doesn't delve a lot into crafting, he found himself making use of blacksmith frequently to maintain his weapons. He can craft new ones too, but for some reason the best weapons he can craft are all for his classes. Blacksmith as a profession is quite popular as people need or want new shiny gear all the time, and while he is not a reputed crafter, the katana that he can craft are of top quality... And nothing else. Other: * His character name Saito Souji is a combination of Hajime Saito and Okita Souji. * Kagemusha refers to a political term coined during the Sengoku period meaning "shadow warrior", and means to refer to body doubles, thus the protective nature of the class. * The coat he wears is obtained from PvP, and was a limited run at the time. Very few players have it. * He has a small player home in the eastern region.</s> <\|message\|>Character List Shokatsu YuAluvera — City Square "So that's how it's done, huh...?" There was a bit of relief in Yu's voice as he finally managed to pull up his character information, his gaze panning slightly to the side as the familiar menu popped up in his peripherals. Finagling with some invisible, possibly-extant hotbar had been unnecessary, it seemed; simply desiring for the relevant information to spring up had been sufficient. Of course, where one success was found, others followed suit, and the young man quickly cycled through half a dozen other menus—none of which seemed to be able to access the usual system configurations, of course—before he paused, an odd shadow slowly creeping over the skies above. Given how it had been broad daylight moments ago, the weather shifting spontaneously becoming overcast was by no means a good sign. As he closed the windows to give him back full control of his vision, Yu slowed to a halt as he—and more than a few others who had already begun to gather—turned their eyes skyward, only to see those clouds shift to a dark black. Any amount of hesitation in the air was promptly cut through as something immediately cut through the clouds from above, a gaping hole from which a single red light began falling—right onto the middle of the square. Those who were aware immediately began to move to make room for whatever was descending, and those who were not were promptly dragged away by the tides of people shifting to make room. Of course, no few number among them—Yu included—furtively drew their weapons in response. The fountain in the center of the square, it seemed, had been the unknown assailant's target, and its subsequent destruction as they landed threw stone dust and debris all over. When it had cleared, however, what was left behind in the rubble was a brown-haired man, his bronze-colored armor twisted and worn as he knelt upon the ruined earth. The pool of blood forming under him showed no such promising future, but what was more troublesome were his words soon after. "The gates... Have been opened..." Whether those words were meant as a warning or as a threat mattered little—at least, compared to the creatures flying out from the clouds unto the city. As far as Yu could tell, they seemed to be a mix of griffins, sphinxes, and harpies—none of which he was pleased to see—and were diving towards the city at an alarming rate. There only seemed to be a few dozen in total, thankfully enough, but that small number was still more than enough to lay siege to the city if left unchecked. As a massive sphinx swept down from the skies above to strike at him, though, Yu tumbled out of the way before looking back at the creature. Though he had no personal experience fighting with the weapon, it felt as if his body did. Hopefully that would actually mean something, given how it seemed to be moving around for seconds. With his blade at the ready, Yu took a deep breath and focused his gaze upon the monster before moving into a more proper battle stance, his sword pointed forward as he struck out at its' wings in hopes of equalizing the battlefield——!</s> <\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Myrtle Bramblewood Myrtle's eyes wandered all over as she made her way outside with her maid. Everything, down to the tiniest detail, was similar to the mansion she had in game. She had pictures of certain NPCs hanging on her walls, NPCs she was quite fond with when she did her story quests with them. She also had all sorts of expensive furniture, paid by the income she got from her potion-making venture. The marble floor was clean, so much so she could see her own reflection on its surface. Ooh, this is amazing! Opening the oaken door, her maid beckoned for her to hurry. "Yes yes, I'm coming!" She hastened her pace. The moment she stepped outside, she was greeted by a pleasant breeze. Her dress fluttered in the wind as she gawked at her surroundings. Wow, this is it! This is Sen Rynta! Sen Rynta — the floating city in the clouds. It was the city she had chosen to be her homebase. Who wouldn't? It was easily the most beautiful city out of all of them. When she had enough money to purchase a mansion in the city's upper class district, she did it in a heartbeat. Beyond the entrance was a small plot of land acting as a garden. And further away was the front gate, leading into the city proper. "Shall we walk or shall I fetch the carriage, Milady?" "Umm, we'll walk! This is a really nice morning! We shouldn't be cooped up inside a carriage!" Azure took the lead, with Myrtle following behind, still looking around in a daze, with the latter nearly tripping in the process, thanks to a stray vine that had grown in the cobblestone road she walked upon. Hmm, now I wonder… if the game is now like real life, does that mean the cities are a lot bigger? I mean, a city can't just be a couple of screens in real life after all… Yep, I think I should just stick with Azure. I know how to get to the park from here but if the city's layout has changed, that's a different matter entirely. -------- Myrtle's trip through the city was enlightening, to say the least. She learned that it wasn't only her that was transported to this world. Other players of the game had been forced to be their characters as well. Some panicked, yelling at each other for the unbelievable event that had occurred to them. Others were a lot more joyful, quickly embracing their new bodies, with some of the females openly exposing and groping themselves out in the open. Hmph, she scoffed. They were clearly guys who played female characters. And now that they had female bodies, they were free to fondle themselves as much as they wanted. She was normally okay with guys doing that but not when they did perverted stuff like this. Had they no shame? Since they were girls now, they should know better than to do that kind of thing in public! Eventually, they arrived at the park. Normally, it was a popular place for players to AFK in, so she believed it would be the ideal place to scope things out. And sure enough, there were a horde of players there, forming a crowd in the middle of the green field. "Azure, stay here for a bit." "Miss, aren't we going to—" It was too late for the maid. Her mistress had already run away, heading straight into said crowd. A frown appeared on Azure's face. At this rate, their food was going to get cold!</s>	<\|message\|>Itouchi Horiyama Saito Souji Aluvera - City Square --- The screeches of a few harpies cried overhead as a few running citizens scampered away in fear for their lives. One of which tripped and fell, a young child by the looks of it as the harpy talons borne swooped in, the child would recoil in fear for the inevitable, yet... It did not come. A flutter of feathers followed by the multiple thuds as something fell from the air. The boy would open their eyes and see a black cloaked man holding a katana in between them. One look from the man and the child slowly got up, before being ushered away by their parent. "How curious, my body appears to simply move if I want to use my skills", he said to himself, as he made his way towards the city's square. Although... A monster attack in a sanctuary area, this was most certainly not part of the normal game, and the way the NPCs had reacted were far too advanced to be a scripted event, he had some knowledge of how games should work and... The technology should not be at this level yet. As he slowly made his way towards the city square, he had the opportunity to test out his techniques and get a feeling for fighting. Given where they were, and assuming it was all 'real'... Fighting would be inevitable, made very apparent by this event. He can think about what has happened later, he thought to himself. He soon found himself at the heart of the commotion, and there were already some people here fighting. Griffons and Sphinxes were present, a much greater foe than harpies. Given the strength of these enemies he should pick an enemy already being engaged with, and end them as soon as possible. He looked around and saw another swordsman charging at a Sphinx, and took it upon himself to assist him. Taking his katana in two hands he charged forward, "Myoujingiri!" He began to move quickly before disappearing into a blur, a flurry of slashes would make themselves visible followed by streaks of light lined up against the front legs and neck in various arrays, before he finally appeared at the front of the Sphinx. There was no tank holding the Sphinx's attention, and knowing that he aimed to end it as soon as he could.</s>
<\|description\|>Itouchi Horiyama Character Name: Saito Souji Race: Human Age: 24 Personality: Itouchi is a somewhat reserved individual, as one might expect from a young Japanese man, however he has a particular sense of judgement. He is prone to making his own conclusions about other people, and while he may not act on those conclusions without further observation, he can break that rule should the person in question be of distaste to him. In particular, those who treat others horribly, who act in service of only themselves, or if they act childishly and waste people's time. Normally he would simply avoid them, but there are times when he may confront them if he believes that not doing so would seriously harm the group. Despite his rather strong sense of judgement, he's a friendly person, though perhaps due to being reserved, acts somewhat formally most of the time. There are times when around close friends he may act much less so, making more jokes and acting somewhat more carefree. Perhaps something one might notice is a particularly fondness for the Shinsengumi, and though it is not as obvious as it used to be, the leftovers of that more pronounced phase of his remain in his name. History: Itouchi like many young men graduating university, would find themselves applying for a company and then working there as a salaryman. He was rather fortunate to find a good company, having had a rather normal upbringing. It was this somewhat normal lifestyle combined with the more lonely lifestyle of a salaryman that perhaps pushed him towards Emerald Odyssey, seeking something a little more exciting between work days. He started playing roughly three or four years ago, and for the first few of those he became an accomplished raider, perhaps the very best for one of the expansions, but stopped after realizing the stress it was beginning to put him under. Though he is thankful for those years as it has shaped him into a more than competent player, both overall skill with the game, and when it comes to playing with other people which was a central component. From then on he normally just played the game with friends, only delving into difficult content on a casual basis. Class(es): * Samurai - [Katana] - A melee DPS class that utilizes a Katana. A swift and agile class boasting high critical rate and critical damage that aims to move through droves of enemies with very few strokes of the blade. As a drawback, their damage if they do not land a precise strike would be more than underwhelming, and defensive capabilities are nearly none, preferring to avoid blocking with their weapon. They have access to perhaps the fastest set of weapon skills called Battoujutsu, where the samurai may resheathe their weapon, gathering up their focus and spiritual energy before unleashing it in an impressive display of blinding speed. * Kagemusha - [Nodachi] - Meaning "shadow warrior", a tank class that utilizes a Nodachi. In particular they make use of shadowy decoys to gain the attention of the enemy and even confuse them, as well as creating veils of shadow over their allies in order to hide them or guard them from attack. Every shadow generated costs a portion of the Kagemusha's health pool, however should these decoys slay enemies or deal sufficient damage, they can return to the Kagemusha to restore their health. * Ashigaru - [Matchlock Firearms] - A ranged DPS class that utilizes matchlock firearms. Though it has a low firing rate compared to many if not all ranged classes, it boasts high damage per shot, and the highest critical damage of ranged classes. Despite being a ranged DPS class, it is frequently seen fighting in close quarters, only retreating to fire off their fatal shots. The Ashigaru also use matchlock handguns in these situations, with skills based around evasion and breaking armor. This class is also known to be a popular secondary, as the handguns can be used alongside any weapon that can be wielded with one hand. Non-Combat * Blacksmith - Though he doesn't delve a lot into crafting, he found himself making use of blacksmith frequently to maintain his weapons. He can craft new ones too, but for some reason the best weapons he can craft are all for his classes. Blacksmith as a profession is quite popular as people need or want new shiny gear all the time, and while he is not a reputed crafter, the katana that he can craft are of top quality... And nothing else. Other: * His character name Saito Souji is a combination of Hajime Saito and Okita Souji. * Kagemusha refers to a political term coined during the Sengoku period meaning "shadow warrior", and means to refer to body doubles, thus the protective nature of the class. * The coat he wears is obtained from PvP, and was a limited run at the time. Very few players have it. * He has a small player home in the eastern region.</s> <\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Myrtle Bramblewood Sen Rynta — Wellspring Park Oh no, it doesn't work! Myrtle could only watch with exasperation as one by one, the adventurers she had made her passionate speech to left. Aah, my charisma check failed! I knew I shouldn't have done that! In the end, only a small portion of them remained. And she wasn't sure whether they were there because they agreed with her words or they were simply curious to see the conclusion to the incident. And then the Titan woman spoke, insulting her heartfelt plea to the masses. How dare she! "H-hey, I was just trying to help! I'm not like you who hit a man just because he stared!" Oh, she was not going to let her have the high ground! The Titan woman then walked away, seemingly done with the conversation. "Yeah, that's right! Keep running!" Myrtle smirked, folding her arms in a victory pose. She won the argument! Why else would she leave? Now, only two men remained — the PC the woman argued with and the NPC who was still out cold on the ground. "Hmm, you got a point." Myrtle tilted her head. "Well, let's test it!" She clasped her hands together and smiled. "We have a live NPC here after all!" She walked over to the unconscious man and crouched, before shaking his body back and forth. "Hey, Mister! Wake up! You're not dead, are you? Oh, please tell me you're not! Or else I've been touching a corpse and that's just… eww!" "Miss, is something the matter?" She looked up and saw that Azure had opted to approach her. It seemed she wasn't content in just staying back and letting her mistress be involved in whatever situation was happening right now. Oh, what an adorable, loyal maid! There's no way she cannot be sapient! She acts like a real maid perfectly! Myrtle stood up and rested her hand on her shoulder. "Look! Here's my maid, Azure! Azure, tell him that you're perfectly sapient, just like me and him!" The maid cocked her head to the side. "Excuse me, Miss? Whatever do you mean?" "Sapient! It means you're a thinking, knowing being! Look, just introduce yourself to him!" Myrtle pointed at the standing man. "Tell him your backstory while you're at it! Your past before you work for me!" The maid turned to look in his direction. She sighed. She had no idea what her mistress was thinking. Still, if it was her order, then it would only be proper for her to do it. "Greetings." She gave a curtsy. "My name is Azure. Azure McMillon. I was born as a daughter of a prostitute, before being sold off to a servant agency where I took my lessons in this occupation. When I was of age, and ready to work as a maid, I was purchased by my mistress here." Myrtle's smile vanished. Wait, what did she just say? That backstory… that wasn't in the game at all! And it was so dark too! She was born as a prostitute's daughter and then sold off as a child slave by her own mother! And then I— I… I… Oh God… I had bought a slave!</s> <\|message\|>Kosame Ariyoshi Kokoma Aluvera - City Streets --- Kokoma would heft the spear over her shoulder, the banner tied to it waving gently as she would watch the harpies meet their demise. The blast of magical energy was quite impressive. So the little elf was a mage, huh? Kokoma would then walk up to the harpy, smiling in a fairly...overly friendly manner as she'd twirl the spear, and whack the harpy on the butt with the hilt of the spear. "Go on, get outta here! Attack this place again and well...ehehe, I suppose having another harpy as my pet would be fun~" She might have under other circumstances, made an attempt to befriend or 'tame' the harpy, as it were, but for now she just wanted to figure out what was going on other than well...being attacked by monsters and what not. So after delivering that ultimatum to the harpy, the Shenke would turn back towards Sefira. "Wah...heey, you're actually pretty awesome, huuuh~?" Kokoma would walk over to Sefira. "Dunno why you were so nervous." That just left what else to do now, though. She supposed she should go after the harpies, huh? Didn't want them to get away...well, luckily she could easily chase after them, couldn't she? "What'cha gonna do now?" Kokoma would ask as she'd watch the harpies flee. Lets see...normally in game 'calling' her mounts was done with just a skill, and the animation of a whistle...so maybe if... Whatever Sefira would respond with, Kokoma would put her hand to her lips, a sharp, high pitched whistle echoing through the area...a few seconds would pass, before one could hear the sound of...hoofbeats? Well, not really hooves, but it was close. From down the street, Sefira could perhaps see something a bit odd. More monsters? A large, horse like creature covered in tough, hard leathery skin and a rocky hide. Kokoma didn't seem too concerned as it'd run up, nearly knocking over Sefira as it'd run up to Kokoma and start nuzzling her. "Wah-H-hey down boy! Ahaha, so you are here!" The monster would huff affirmatively. "Tatl and Teel doing alright?" Another huff of confirmation. "Great! Anyways," She'd hop onto the monsters back with a surprisingly swift motion. She would then, look down to Sefira with a grin and hold out a hand. "I can give ya a ride, but the fee is gonna be your name~"</s> <\|message\|>Takeyama Matsuo This girl seriously didn't take a single thing seriously, did she? Still... her spell had really worked. Only one of the harpies had gotten away. Sefira couldn't help but be proud of the fact she'd actually executed one of her spells. Only now it was real. Maybe that was a silver lining? She was physically a completely different person, but she was also capable of doing magic. Seeing one of the other player's beasts suddenly charge up and nearly in real life was a bit of a shock, too, and the petite elf found herself reflexively clutching her staff in both hands, tensing for a few moments as she leaped back with a yelp. "H-hey!" Realizing how irrational it was to be scared of the beast given it belonged to Kokoma, Sefira took a deep breath and forced herself to relax a little. At least, as much as she could knowing there were so many monsters around. Where had they all come from, anyway? Back when Emeral Odyssey was just a game, something like this never would have happened out of the blue. "W-we should probably try and fend off the monsters, we can't just sit and do nothing..." commented Sefira as she stepped forward. The other player wanted her name in exchange for a ride? "Hmph, fine," she began, looking away, "Takeyama Mats-" Realizing she almost said her full, real, masculine name, the blonde girl froze for a moment. There was no way letting this girl know that was a good idea. Hoping that Kokoma didn't hear her properly, Sefira cleared her throat. "Sylvanbelle. Sefira Sylvanbelle." @PKMNB0Y</s>	<\|message\|>Itouchi Horiyama Saito Souji Aluvera - Alleyway --- The battle seemed to go apace, he found himself chasing down a few monsters in the course the chaos, though for the most part it seemed those who could not defend themselves were out of harm's way, and the battle had approached a point where it was time to clean up, though curiously he found himself in an alleyway. There were people here, hiding. Though it did not seem at all unusual, at first, but then he recognized one of the game's story NPCs here going about healing those who had run here. It was strange to see them acting on their own like this when he was used to them standing around waiting for interaction, especially when they approached the newcomers. He listened to her talk and... "Before the battle...?", that was a curious detail, one he muttered to himself. Did this mean she would depart as soon as this was over? There were a myriad of questions he wanted to ask, such as why they were here, who the attacker was, what was going on, why this was no longer a game... The last one though may best be investigated instead. He doubted that these characters would know. "Alright, then I suppose I should ask about this attack. Who was that, and why have they attacked?", he asked.</s>
<\|description\|>Itouchi Horiyama Character Name: Saito Souji Race: Human Age: 24 Personality: Itouchi is a somewhat reserved individual, as one might expect from a young Japanese man, however he has a particular sense of judgement. He is prone to making his own conclusions about other people, and while he may not act on those conclusions without further observation, he can break that rule should the person in question be of distaste to him. In particular, those who treat others horribly, who act in service of only themselves, or if they act childishly and waste people's time. Normally he would simply avoid them, but there are times when he may confront them if he believes that not doing so would seriously harm the group. Despite his rather strong sense of judgement, he's a friendly person, though perhaps due to being reserved, acts somewhat formally most of the time. There are times when around close friends he may act much less so, making more jokes and acting somewhat more carefree. Perhaps something one might notice is a particularly fondness for the Shinsengumi, and though it is not as obvious as it used to be, the leftovers of that more pronounced phase of his remain in his name. History: Itouchi like many young men graduating university, would find themselves applying for a company and then working there as a salaryman. He was rather fortunate to find a good company, having had a rather normal upbringing. It was this somewhat normal lifestyle combined with the more lonely lifestyle of a salaryman that perhaps pushed him towards Emerald Odyssey, seeking something a little more exciting between work days. He started playing roughly three or four years ago, and for the first few of those he became an accomplished raider, perhaps the very best for one of the expansions, but stopped after realizing the stress it was beginning to put him under. Though he is thankful for those years as it has shaped him into a more than competent player, both overall skill with the game, and when it comes to playing with other people which was a central component. From then on he normally just played the game with friends, only delving into difficult content on a casual basis. Class(es): * Samurai - [Katana] - A melee DPS class that utilizes a Katana. A swift and agile class boasting high critical rate and critical damage that aims to move through droves of enemies with very few strokes of the blade. As a drawback, their damage if they do not land a precise strike would be more than underwhelming, and defensive capabilities are nearly none, preferring to avoid blocking with their weapon. They have access to perhaps the fastest set of weapon skills called Battoujutsu, where the samurai may resheathe their weapon, gathering up their focus and spiritual energy before unleashing it in an impressive display of blinding speed. * Kagemusha - [Nodachi] - Meaning "shadow warrior", a tank class that utilizes a Nodachi. In particular they make use of shadowy decoys to gain the attention of the enemy and even confuse them, as well as creating veils of shadow over their allies in order to hide them or guard them from attack. Every shadow generated costs a portion of the Kagemusha's health pool, however should these decoys slay enemies or deal sufficient damage, they can return to the Kagemusha to restore their health. * Ashigaru - [Matchlock Firearms] - A ranged DPS class that utilizes matchlock firearms. Though it has a low firing rate compared to many if not all ranged classes, it boasts high damage per shot, and the highest critical damage of ranged classes. Despite being a ranged DPS class, it is frequently seen fighting in close quarters, only retreating to fire off their fatal shots. The Ashigaru also use matchlock handguns in these situations, with skills based around evasion and breaking armor. This class is also known to be a popular secondary, as the handguns can be used alongside any weapon that can be wielded with one hand. Non-Combat * Blacksmith - Though he doesn't delve a lot into crafting, he found himself making use of blacksmith frequently to maintain his weapons. He can craft new ones too, but for some reason the best weapons he can craft are all for his classes. Blacksmith as a profession is quite popular as people need or want new shiny gear all the time, and while he is not a reputed crafter, the katana that he can craft are of top quality... And nothing else. Other: * His character name Saito Souji is a combination of Hajime Saito and Okita Souji. * Kagemusha refers to a political term coined during the Sengoku period meaning "shadow warrior", and means to refer to body doubles, thus the protective nature of the class. * The coat he wears is obtained from PvP, and was a limited run at the time. Very few players have it. * He has a small player home in the eastern region.</s> <\|message\|>Akira Sakai Nova --- --- "The other problem being us, huh," Nova raised her brows, somewhere between offended and amused. "Well, you're right we should take care of this guy first, though," she agreed with a light shrug. She glanced at the player who struggled with bringing the man to his feet, slinging him across a shoulder. "Here, let me," she offered, going around so as to help support him from the other side. "I'm Nova, by the way." There was little chatter on the way, and it was kind of slow going, given two of them had to drag an unconscious person between them. Nova rubbernecked around as much as she could, marveling at how expanded, how real the city was now. It took a few minutes before they made it to a deserted street, and to an unknown house. Whether it was Windstar's home, or merely a temporary safe house was unknown. It was inconspicuous, but was fairly normal. A silent elf butler helped them take the unconscious man downstairs at Eunice's direction. It was kind of awkward to do that without a stretcher, but they managed. Then, they returned to the first floor, sat around, and Windstar told her tale. "An empty void," she muttered thoughtfully, thinking of those guards' reactions who'd thought her mentally unstable. "A drive to know?" she scoffed. "Didn't you say earlier you had to protect that man from being questioned?" she asked dubiously. Nova didn't mistrust Eunice per say, but did find it strange she'd trusted them as easily, given everything. "You're right I won't go telling others, though," she confirmed with a head shake. It'd be way too troublesome trying to spread this, and would cause chaos, anyways. But if she found trustworthy others though…Well, at least she could bring them to Eunice – unless the woman wouldn't be available, of course. Curious about that point, she asked, "Do you already have any plans what you'll do, or do you intend to decide after we tell you what we do?" Regardless of Eunice's answer, Nova would nod, and say, "Alright, then." "You said you wanted to know our side of things, huh. Well…We're basically people from another world, and this," she motioned with an arm around them, "all of this, the whole world here, was just a game to us. A digital game based on a computer program – no magic involved, just technology. "And before you ask, no, it's not normal from our side of things to be able to travel to different worlds, technology or no. We had no magic – it wasn't considered real, there was no evidence for it. Sure, people believed in deities, or spirits, or the afterlife, but it was all personal belief, you know? There were no spells of the kind you can find here. Oh, and we were all humans," self-consciously, she tugged at her wolf ears, "so this is a bit of a change." "But, yeah, no dice on the why. We don't even know how this could have happened. It shouldn't have been possible based on what we know of our world," Nova concluded.</s> <\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Luna Myrtle Bramblewood Sen Rynta — Wellspring Park Hmm? What's this? A new character just entered the fray? She seemed to be a knight, judging by that armor. A Paladin, perhaps? So she's a PC. And she's healing the man! Ooh, that's great! Someone does listen to my speech back there! Though thinking about it, I could've given him one of my healing potions. Oops, I completely forgot I could do that. Once the Paladin stood back up, however, she gave Myrtle an unsolicited advice. And she wasn't sure if she liked said advice. "Dangerous? I don't think there's anything dangerous about what's going on here." Myrtle folded her hands under her chest with a confident smile. "I can hold my own in a fight. Oh, and thank you, by the way, for healing him. Now that we're stuck in this world, we really should start treating these NPCs better." She then reached her hand towards the paladin. "The name's Myrtle Bramblewood. Pleased to meet you, Miss."</s>	<\|message\|>Itouchi Horiyama Saito Souji Aluvera - Alleyway --- Certainly, it did not feel right to just be gallivanting off while fighting was going on outside, although given the circumstances, getting answers seemed to be priority, at least to everyone present. The explanation given was not substantial in his opinion, nothing said was unable to be gleamed from just looking around, or witnessing the spectacle prior. The answer given whether or not the young girl knew them or not was rather cryptic, and only raised more questions. In times like these, perhaps going along with the events was the better course of action, and it seemed to be the way everyone here was going to go. "Hmmmm... Well, I suppose I'll also play along. It seems there's more to this than just some 'attack' on a town", one that was a sanctuary no less, it seems the world did not abide by the rules of the game anymore, that much was already certain. Only thing not understood was to what extent... As the talking went on he quickly summed it up cutting towards the end of a long-winded explanation. "Basically, to cut it short, we know nothing. We woke up and ended up in a game we play frequently. It may seem strange for us to call your world a game but that is just how it is... Or rather, was. We were hoping to get answers from you instead", he explained.</s>
<\|description\|>Itouchi Horiyama Character Name: Saito Souji Race: Human Age: 24 Personality: Itouchi is a somewhat reserved individual, as one might expect from a young Japanese man, however he has a particular sense of judgement. He is prone to making his own conclusions about other people, and while he may not act on those conclusions without further observation, he can break that rule should the person in question be of distaste to him. In particular, those who treat others horribly, who act in service of only themselves, or if they act childishly and waste people's time. Normally he would simply avoid them, but there are times when he may confront them if he believes that not doing so would seriously harm the group. Despite his rather strong sense of judgement, he's a friendly person, though perhaps due to being reserved, acts somewhat formally most of the time. There are times when around close friends he may act much less so, making more jokes and acting somewhat more carefree. Perhaps something one might notice is a particularly fondness for the Shinsengumi, and though it is not as obvious as it used to be, the leftovers of that more pronounced phase of his remain in his name. History: Itouchi like many young men graduating university, would find themselves applying for a company and then working there as a salaryman. He was rather fortunate to find a good company, having had a rather normal upbringing. It was this somewhat normal lifestyle combined with the more lonely lifestyle of a salaryman that perhaps pushed him towards Emerald Odyssey, seeking something a little more exciting between work days. He started playing roughly three or four years ago, and for the first few of those he became an accomplished raider, perhaps the very best for one of the expansions, but stopped after realizing the stress it was beginning to put him under. Though he is thankful for those years as it has shaped him into a more than competent player, both overall skill with the game, and when it comes to playing with other people which was a central component. From then on he normally just played the game with friends, only delving into difficult content on a casual basis. Class(es): * Samurai - [Katana] - A melee DPS class that utilizes a Katana. A swift and agile class boasting high critical rate and critical damage that aims to move through droves of enemies with very few strokes of the blade. As a drawback, their damage if they do not land a precise strike would be more than underwhelming, and defensive capabilities are nearly none, preferring to avoid blocking with their weapon. They have access to perhaps the fastest set of weapon skills called Battoujutsu, where the samurai may resheathe their weapon, gathering up their focus and spiritual energy before unleashing it in an impressive display of blinding speed. * Kagemusha - [Nodachi] - Meaning "shadow warrior", a tank class that utilizes a Nodachi. In particular they make use of shadowy decoys to gain the attention of the enemy and even confuse them, as well as creating veils of shadow over their allies in order to hide them or guard them from attack. Every shadow generated costs a portion of the Kagemusha's health pool, however should these decoys slay enemies or deal sufficient damage, they can return to the Kagemusha to restore their health. * Ashigaru - [Matchlock Firearms] - A ranged DPS class that utilizes matchlock firearms. Though it has a low firing rate compared to many if not all ranged classes, it boasts high damage per shot, and the highest critical damage of ranged classes. Despite being a ranged DPS class, it is frequently seen fighting in close quarters, only retreating to fire off their fatal shots. The Ashigaru also use matchlock handguns in these situations, with skills based around evasion and breaking armor. This class is also known to be a popular secondary, as the handguns can be used alongside any weapon that can be wielded with one hand. Non-Combat * Blacksmith - Though he doesn't delve a lot into crafting, he found himself making use of blacksmith frequently to maintain his weapons. He can craft new ones too, but for some reason the best weapons he can craft are all for his classes. Blacksmith as a profession is quite popular as people need or want new shiny gear all the time, and while he is not a reputed crafter, the katana that he can craft are of top quality... And nothing else. Other: * His character name Saito Souji is a combination of Hajime Saito and Okita Souji. * Kagemusha refers to a political term coined during the Sengoku period meaning "shadow warrior", and means to refer to body doubles, thus the protective nature of the class. * The coat he wears is obtained from PvP, and was a limited run at the time. Very few players have it. * He has a small player home in the eastern region.</s> <\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Myrtle Bramblewood Sen Rynta — Wellspring Park "Thank you!" Myrtle clasped her hands with excitement when she heard the Belva's reply. "Then, I'll send my contacts right now!" She opened her menu with a swipe of her finger (for some reason it just came naturally to her, even though this was her second time doing so). Traversing to contacts, she then sent a friend request to the Belva. But since she no longer had a mouse to click on him, she had to aim the floating box towards him. Only to find that she was beaten by his request by a microsecond. "Oh, dammit!" She cursed under her breath. Only one person was needed to initiate a friend request after all. The other side could just accept and both persons would receive the others' names in their contacts. Of course, once the confirmation box appeared, she pressed the "Yes" button. With a satisfying click, his name then appeared on her contact list. Really? Mini Marcher? That's cute. She stifled a giggle. Speaking of that, she scrolled through the names, finding that many of her usual acquaintances were marked as "Online". They were her fellow crafters, her frequent customers, and the gatherers she bought material from. She considered for a second to send a message to them but put it off for later once she had returned to her mansion. Not that she would have a chance to do so anyway, thanks to the paladin's arrival.</s> <\|message\|>Agaue Selinofoto Agaue Selinofoto Miura Yui Location: Sen Rynta - Wellspring Park @PKMNB0Y --- --- Yui stared at the hand that outreached towards her. "The name's Myrtle Bramblewood. Pleased to meet you, Miss.", spoke the young Human. There must be an unspoken etiquette to use in-game usernames. Not that she had any qualms about using her real life name, but in another way, it felt nice. "Agaue. Agaue Selinofoto." Yui responded, firmly shaking Myrtle's hand, like it was a business greeting. Yui glanced at the Belva, who - from his stance - seemed to not want to interfere. Fine by her. Yui was not evangelistic, nor it was of her mind to be associated with the drama that unfolded earlier. However, it did not mean she was not concerned for her safety. One look, and Yui knew that Myrtle had no combat experience whatsoever. Turning her back to them, Yui looked to the bright blue sky, closing her eyes as she felt the slight breeze of the wind, explaining, "It was dangerous. I do not know how long you have been stuck inside this game, assuming you're a player as well-". Her armour rattled as Yui faced the trio again, the sun made her a glowing figure. "I'd be more aware of your new reality." Yui folded her arms, but her face remains as straight as ever. After hearing Myrtle - if she had any thing else to say, Yui asked, "What are your plans now?". Yui needed to see the state of affairs, of the world. There were things to be addressed, and Yui knew that she had to get to the bottom of this mysterious summoning. If they wanted to come along, so be it. If they needed help, so she would, as long as it led her to the cause of her buzzing intuitions.</s> <\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Myrtle Bramblewood Sen Rynta — Wellspring Park "Ooh, Agaue Selinofoto! That's a cool, if not a little bit weird name!" Myrtle moved her hands up and down with excitement as she shook hers. "My name is straight up plain compared to yours!" Whoa! She's glowing! Is it just a trick of the eye or is it her Paladin magic? I don't remember any Paladin skills that can do that though. "Oh, don't be such a worrywart!" Myrtle released her hand, still smiling. "I'm a max level Weather Mage! Just because I don't have my staff out doesn't mean I don't know how to fight!" She opened her inventory and equipped the staff, materializing the weapon right at the perfect angle for her to snatch. She slammed its iron tip to the ground before giving it a twirl, ending by throwing it mid-air and aiming it towards the paladin. Yes, for some reason, she could perfectly manipulate the staff to her liking without clumsily dropping it like she had expected. It probably came from the class, she told herself. "Here! Let me show you my magic even! I can't use the big stuff in a place like this but a simple tornado should suffice." To be honest, she didn't know how she was supposed to use her spells. She didn't have any buttons to press. Not in this new world. So all she could think of was just to imagine the spell she wanted as she lifted her staff. "Tornado!" Hey, maybe yelling it would help too. To her amazement, the spell triggered. Wind began to sword rapidly above her, forming a small whirlwind visible to the naked eye. She had placed it mid-air quite a way above where they stood so they were safe from its sucking effect. Still, the swirling wind was strong enough to make the trees around them bend and sway. Her dress and hair followed suit, as well as any cloaks and skirts of both PCs and NPCs in the area. It seemed unlike in the game, non-hostile NPCs were still affected by PC's spells. "See? I wasn't lying! That Tornado over there is the max-level version! Not the silly breeze the low level version was!" She lowered her staff, and with it, the spell disappeared. "So if anything happens, I think I can handle it just fine!" She grinned, putting her left hand on her waist. "As for my plans, I think I'm going to invite my friends for a gathering or sorts. See if we can share info with each other. I have a mansion in this city, you see, perfect for such an event. Oh, you can come if you want!"</s>	<\|message\|>Itouchi Horiyama Saito Souji Aluvera - Alleyway --- Saito pursed his lips in one hand while fiddling with the menu in the other... He remembered he saw that people were accessing the menu prior to the attack, which was worth a check. From the looks of it, most personal functions were fine, in fact he can even view some of his skills. However, he accessed the travel menus out of interest, when the young lady had mentioned other states and other areas of the game. For the most part, he was able to see what the locations were by name, but just about every option there was completely grayed out. This might as well had simply been a glorified map function. He turned back to the conversation as it reached about mentioning the man who appeared before, along with the monsters he brought about. Things were beginning to settle outside, and she asked the group for their choice. As much as he'd like to stay in Aluvera... He had a load of questions that he doubted other players could answer. There was much they should worry about, such as how life would work, assuming this goes into long term, but he was not a settler by any means. He often wandered around when he played the game too, so he felt it was not too different a choice here. "Hmmmm. I have many questions, regarding why we're all here, and I feel that your quest may yield us some answers. I think I will join you then, at least for a time", he answered rather succinctly and precisely what he felt. He had no attachments to the other players around here, so he had little reason to stick around.</s>
<\|description\|>Itouchi Horiyama Character Name: Saito Souji Race: Human Age: 24 Personality: Itouchi is a somewhat reserved individual, as one might expect from a young Japanese man, however he has a particular sense of judgement. He is prone to making his own conclusions about other people, and while he may not act on those conclusions without further observation, he can break that rule should the person in question be of distaste to him. In particular, those who treat others horribly, who act in service of only themselves, or if they act childishly and waste people's time. Normally he would simply avoid them, but there are times when he may confront them if he believes that not doing so would seriously harm the group. Despite his rather strong sense of judgement, he's a friendly person, though perhaps due to being reserved, acts somewhat formally most of the time. There are times when around close friends he may act much less so, making more jokes and acting somewhat more carefree. Perhaps something one might notice is a particularly fondness for the Shinsengumi, and though it is not as obvious as it used to be, the leftovers of that more pronounced phase of his remain in his name. History: Itouchi like many young men graduating university, would find themselves applying for a company and then working there as a salaryman. He was rather fortunate to find a good company, having had a rather normal upbringing. It was this somewhat normal lifestyle combined with the more lonely lifestyle of a salaryman that perhaps pushed him towards Emerald Odyssey, seeking something a little more exciting between work days. He started playing roughly three or four years ago, and for the first few of those he became an accomplished raider, perhaps the very best for one of the expansions, but stopped after realizing the stress it was beginning to put him under. Though he is thankful for those years as it has shaped him into a more than competent player, both overall skill with the game, and when it comes to playing with other people which was a central component. From then on he normally just played the game with friends, only delving into difficult content on a casual basis. Class(es): * Samurai - [Katana] - A melee DPS class that utilizes a Katana. A swift and agile class boasting high critical rate and critical damage that aims to move through droves of enemies with very few strokes of the blade. As a drawback, their damage if they do not land a precise strike would be more than underwhelming, and defensive capabilities are nearly none, preferring to avoid blocking with their weapon. They have access to perhaps the fastest set of weapon skills called Battoujutsu, where the samurai may resheathe their weapon, gathering up their focus and spiritual energy before unleashing it in an impressive display of blinding speed. * Kagemusha - [Nodachi] - Meaning "shadow warrior", a tank class that utilizes a Nodachi. In particular they make use of shadowy decoys to gain the attention of the enemy and even confuse them, as well as creating veils of shadow over their allies in order to hide them or guard them from attack. Every shadow generated costs a portion of the Kagemusha's health pool, however should these decoys slay enemies or deal sufficient damage, they can return to the Kagemusha to restore their health. * Ashigaru - [Matchlock Firearms] - A ranged DPS class that utilizes matchlock firearms. Though it has a low firing rate compared to many if not all ranged classes, it boasts high damage per shot, and the highest critical damage of ranged classes. Despite being a ranged DPS class, it is frequently seen fighting in close quarters, only retreating to fire off their fatal shots. The Ashigaru also use matchlock handguns in these situations, with skills based around evasion and breaking armor. This class is also known to be a popular secondary, as the handguns can be used alongside any weapon that can be wielded with one hand. Non-Combat * Blacksmith - Though he doesn't delve a lot into crafting, he found himself making use of blacksmith frequently to maintain his weapons. He can craft new ones too, but for some reason the best weapons he can craft are all for his classes. Blacksmith as a profession is quite popular as people need or want new shiny gear all the time, and while he is not a reputed crafter, the katana that he can craft are of top quality... And nothing else. Other: * His character name Saito Souji is a combination of Hajime Saito and Okita Souji. * Kagemusha refers to a political term coined during the Sengoku period meaning "shadow warrior", and means to refer to body doubles, thus the protective nature of the class. * The coat he wears is obtained from PvP, and was a limited run at the time. Very few players have it. * He has a small player home in the eastern region.</s> <\|message\|>Agaue Selinofoto Agaue Selinofoto Miura Yui Location: Sen Rynta - Wellspring Park --- --- "Tornado!" Yui began to brace herself to the ground as soon as Myrtle excitedly chanted a spell. Surprisingly, the wind wasn't as strong as she thought it would be, or rather, it was placed away that made them safe from its pull. When it dissipated, Yui remained speechless. Even when the Belva bid his farewells, Yui did not move. Only staring at the two, at at distance from her, a look of disbelief on her face. When she came to, Yui began muttering something under her breath while moving closer to the maid and her lady. "Very well... lead the way.", she sighed, following the two towards their home. As they walked through the bustling city, full of confused life and raging conflicts, Yui stared at the bright pair in front of her. They stirred a deep feeling within her. Holding a hand to her heart, Yui took a deep breath in and sighed softly. "Not now...", she whispered to herself. It was too early to feel despair. There was an iceberg in these artic waters. Sooner or later, it will be found.</s> <\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Luna@PKMNB0Y Myrtle Bramblewood Sen Rynta — Wellspring Park "Goodbye! And thank you for everything!" Myrtle waved her hands at the Belvar, tiptoeing with excitement. She was completely oblivious to the scare she just gave to the people in the park, particularly the NPCs. The maid's lips formed a half-scowl. She didn't say anything but she was clearly displeased by the flagrant show her mistress just gave. Not that the mistress herself noticed. "Oh, you're coming?" She grabbed the hands of the paladin after hearing her words. "That's wonderful! I promise, you won't regret it!" She shook her hands vigorously, smiling ear to ear in the process. "Miss, should I go on ahead to prepare?" The maid interrupted the two, her hands placed all prim and proper on the front of her apron. "I shall bake you some snacks for your meeting." "Oh, that's a great idea, Azure!" Myrtle released the paladin's hands, her dress twirling as she made a sharp turn to face her. "You do that! We'll take a scenic route around the city!" "Very well then. Now, if you would excuse me…" The maid gave a light bow, giving one last look towards the paladin before leaving the scene. "Be careful on your way home!" Myrtle stood on her toes and waved her hand again. She then twirled back to face the paladin, clasping her hands near her right chest. "Isn't she just the best?" -------- Myrtle took the lead, walking just a few feet ahead of the paladin. She began bombarding her with questions regarding her character: how far she had gotten in the main quest, how many raid bosses she had defeated, what her other classes were, and so on, and so forth. All the while having her eyes wandering on her surroundings. enjoying the sight the city was giving her. "Ahh, this place really is lovely! It's nothing at all like the one in the game! We might be stuck here but at the very least, we can be part of this wonderful and exciting new world!" She twirled with a laugh, giggling towards the paladin.</s> <\|message\|>Kosame Ariyoshi Kokoma Aluvera - City Streets @PKMNB0Y --- "Yep yep, that's exactly how I got here." She'd reply, holding tightly to her mount as it'd swiftly move down the streets. What it lacked in speed, it made up for in great endurance. "No idea, but its great isn't it!" The Shenke would laugh. "No more nine to five life! I can do whatever the hell I want and no one tells me otherwise, ahah~!" Perhaps she should be taking this more...calmly? But really, how could she just not enjoy this? The wind as she ran through the street, the scents, the feeling of her spear having impaled that one harpy...ah. It felt so good to just...feel so alive. "Weh!" Kokoma barely noticed the fact she had almost run into another person with her mount, causing them to swerve a bit to the left and likely causing Sefira to smoosh against her back as they'd skid to a halt just outside of the city walls. While there were certainly less monsters here, there definitely were some - and unfortunate guards and other overly eager adventurers...players? lurking about. "Geheh, sorry. Was thinking about something super soft and cute." She'd grin, leaving that up to Sefira's interpretation. "Alright! Take the rear and blast 'em while I distract them, kay? I'll be countin' on ya to cover my cute tail"</s> <\|message\|>Takeyama Matsuo Great. On top of everything else, this weirdo was into this. Sure, being able to cast magic was nice, but still! This was a lot to take in, and she had just embraced in just like that?! Sefira opened her mouth to complain, and then let out a gasp as their mount suddenly lurched to the side, mashing her directly into Kokoma's back. It was awkward, made even more awkward by the fact she was now a girl and had just been squished directly into another girl. She had been trying to do her best to avoid thinking about that aspect, but actively being pressed up against Kokoma that closely made it once again quite difficult to ignore. Kokoma's comment, whatever it meant, didn't help in the least. "Ugh, fine!" the flustered elven Starlight Mage exclaimed as she glanced back over her shoulder, readying her staff. She wasn't sure what spells she could cast from the back of a moving beast like this, but she guessed that maybe her lowest level ones might be possible. They had short cast times back when Emerald Odyssey was a game. While they weren't as heavily-damaging, that didn't mean they wouldn't be effective at keeping enemies at bay. @PKMNB0Y</s>	<\|message\|>Itouchi Horiyama Saito Souji Aluvera - Streets --- Upon leaving the house, the observation put forward by Eunice was rather obvious. The ongoing chaos though being thinned out, was still not concluded. He had expected someone to take up command of the people who were willing to fight, and perhaps that may happen... Still, it did not make their new situation any less of an inconvenience. Five griffons, and they seemed to be moving like a pack. Was it just out of coincidence? Or was someone targeting Eunice? He could not quite tell, but all the same he drew his blade and prepared to fight. "I can hold up the rear, we'll push through the front and put them at once side of us at the very least. We're not gonna spend all day cutting them down", he was rather sure of himself. If their objective was to leave, this was the logical course of action.</s>
<\|description\|>Itouchi Horiyama Character Name: Saito Souji Race: Human Age: 24 Personality: Itouchi is a somewhat reserved individual, as one might expect from a young Japanese man, however he has a particular sense of judgement. He is prone to making his own conclusions about other people, and while he may not act on those conclusions without further observation, he can break that rule should the person in question be of distaste to him. In particular, those who treat others horribly, who act in service of only themselves, or if they act childishly and waste people's time. Normally he would simply avoid them, but there are times when he may confront them if he believes that not doing so would seriously harm the group. Despite his rather strong sense of judgement, he's a friendly person, though perhaps due to being reserved, acts somewhat formally most of the time. There are times when around close friends he may act much less so, making more jokes and acting somewhat more carefree. Perhaps something one might notice is a particularly fondness for the Shinsengumi, and though it is not as obvious as it used to be, the leftovers of that more pronounced phase of his remain in his name. History: Itouchi like many young men graduating university, would find themselves applying for a company and then working there as a salaryman. He was rather fortunate to find a good company, having had a rather normal upbringing. It was this somewhat normal lifestyle combined with the more lonely lifestyle of a salaryman that perhaps pushed him towards Emerald Odyssey, seeking something a little more exciting between work days. He started playing roughly three or four years ago, and for the first few of those he became an accomplished raider, perhaps the very best for one of the expansions, but stopped after realizing the stress it was beginning to put him under. Though he is thankful for those years as it has shaped him into a more than competent player, both overall skill with the game, and when it comes to playing with other people which was a central component. From then on he normally just played the game with friends, only delving into difficult content on a casual basis. Class(es): * Samurai - [Katana] - A melee DPS class that utilizes a Katana. A swift and agile class boasting high critical rate and critical damage that aims to move through droves of enemies with very few strokes of the blade. As a drawback, their damage if they do not land a precise strike would be more than underwhelming, and defensive capabilities are nearly none, preferring to avoid blocking with their weapon. They have access to perhaps the fastest set of weapon skills called Battoujutsu, where the samurai may resheathe their weapon, gathering up their focus and spiritual energy before unleashing it in an impressive display of blinding speed. * Kagemusha - [Nodachi] - Meaning "shadow warrior", a tank class that utilizes a Nodachi. In particular they make use of shadowy decoys to gain the attention of the enemy and even confuse them, as well as creating veils of shadow over their allies in order to hide them or guard them from attack. Every shadow generated costs a portion of the Kagemusha's health pool, however should these decoys slay enemies or deal sufficient damage, they can return to the Kagemusha to restore their health. * Ashigaru - [Matchlock Firearms] - A ranged DPS class that utilizes matchlock firearms. Though it has a low firing rate compared to many if not all ranged classes, it boasts high damage per shot, and the highest critical damage of ranged classes. Despite being a ranged DPS class, it is frequently seen fighting in close quarters, only retreating to fire off their fatal shots. The Ashigaru also use matchlock handguns in these situations, with skills based around evasion and breaking armor. This class is also known to be a popular secondary, as the handguns can be used alongside any weapon that can be wielded with one hand. Non-Combat * Blacksmith - Though he doesn't delve a lot into crafting, he found himself making use of blacksmith frequently to maintain his weapons. He can craft new ones too, but for some reason the best weapons he can craft are all for his classes. Blacksmith as a profession is quite popular as people need or want new shiny gear all the time, and while he is not a reputed crafter, the katana that he can craft are of top quality... And nothing else. Other: * His character name Saito Souji is a combination of Hajime Saito and Okita Souji. * Kagemusha refers to a political term coined during the Sengoku period meaning "shadow warrior", and means to refer to body doubles, thus the protective nature of the class. * The coat he wears is obtained from PvP, and was a limited run at the time. Very few players have it. * He has a small player home in the eastern region.</s> <\|message\|>Agaue Selinofoto Agaue Selinofoto Miura Yui Location: Sen Rynta - Bramblewood Estate @PKMNB0Y Trigger warning. Apologies in advanced. --- --- A room full of young girls. A bucket full of water. A knife. The stares. Somewhere in the distance, a bell rings, but nobody moves. They were all talking, but Yui, who sat in the middle, could only hear the deafening sound of static. "You'll never amount to anything." "Useless." "Why are you still alive? Hahaha." "You're only great because of your big family!" "You must've slept with the teachers, no wonder you're so dirty!" "Just a doll." "She's not even crying, she must be a ghost!" "Nobody loves you." "Just die." All these words, Yui knew. She could read them from their poisonous lips, but could not listen. It was true, Yui did not shed a tear, not even a speck of emotion on her face. Something like this... it was nothing. Yui blankly stared at the open window, watching as a bird flew by; she could be that bird, even if for a second. In the reflection of the tiled walls, something glistens in one of the girl's hands - all that Yui could do was shut her eyes, hoping it would be over soon. "M-... Miss... Miss Agaue!" Yui slowly opened her eyes, and turned to Azure, who evidently came to the room at behest of her master. "Sorry to disturb you, but Miss Myrtle requests your presence." Azure left the room, but Yui did not miss the worrying glance. Slowly rising from the bed, Yui came up to the dresser mirror to check herself. Indeed, she had awoken in a cold sweat, but that all it was - sweat, maybe stress. It was something of a normal occurrence, although it does irritate her slightly to see their faces in her sleep. After splashing and wiping her face, Yui came downstairs to join Myrtle and her friend. Downstairs at last, give or take a half hour, Yui found her way to the lobby they currently sat in. "Agaue Selinofoto. Pleasure to meet you." she would introduce herself to Anastasia. After hearing their plans to go outside to collect alchemy ingredients, Yui glanced at her own inventory. She might as well stack up, plus, it would be rude of her to not offer her protection as a tank. "I shall come." Yui nodded slightly. Together, they walked out towards the outskirts of Sen Rynata. --- Location: Sen Rynta - Outskirts @PKMNB0Y --- --- Yui took a proper look around the outside since she's been transported to this world. It was more vast than she could ever imagine, the bluey skies offered a sign of peace, and the wind that breezed around them was refreshing. Refreshing, if only the masses of obviously clown of players could reign it in. There was much shouting, bantering, and a couple of fist fights. Nevertheless, Yui wasn't impressed. Yui spied the herbs that would regenerate through pixels, only to be snatched away by a fool in a matter of seconds. That also, would be stolen in the blink of an eye. Farming here would be impossible. It didn't matter though, Yui's creations needed higher quality. Myrtle was very obviously another alchemist like her, as Yui observed from her possessions in the mansion. Yui hadn't mentioned it to her yet, what her non-combatant classes were. Inhaling slowly, Yui focused her mind to a particular herb in low supply in her inventory. It would be somewhere in the depths of the forest nearby, hiding under the roots of trees. This herb is an important catalyst for highly potent healing potions. Yui's eyes went in a particular direction. She could feel the tingling of her harvester's passive skill - 'Sixth Sense'. Yui would have to search in that general area, but, she turned towards the rest of the group. "What would you like to do?" It wasn't important right now, she could gather it alone in her own time, so she rolled the ball in their court.</s> <\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Luna@PKMNB0Y Myrtle Bramblewood Sen Rynta — Bramblewood Estate The moment Agaue entered the room, Anastasia stood up. Myrtle smiled, walking up to the paladin and patting her on the shoulder. "Here she is! Agaue! Hope you two get along!" The paladin then introduced herself. "A-Anastasia Westerwind. Pleased to meet you." She bowed in return. So this is the new friend Myrtle has made… she's a paladin, huh? Looks like a high-level player too, judging by her armor… I guess it makes sense… now that the game world has become real, as a DPS, she'll need a Tank more than ever. "So, we're planning to take a trip outside town?" Myrtle continued. "You're in, Agaue?" To Myrtle's pleasure, the paladin agreed. "Great!" She clapped her hands together, grinning. "Let's go then! I'll lead the way!" --------- Myrtle Bramblewood Sen Rynta — Windy Plains Windy Plains. The very first area one would end up in once they left Sen Rynta. An unending series of green fields as far as the eyes could see, with windmills all around the place, consuming the power given by Mother Nature herself. The city mostly used them to process their flour, however, unlike modern cities with their electricity. And beyond them was the wilderness where monsters wandered. It was where Myrtle and co. were heading. "Wow, look at this view! It's so much more wonderful when we see it in person like this, isn't it?!" Myrtle laughed, opening her arms wide open, letting the gentle wind caress her body. Anastasia smiled. She had to agree with her friend. The view they had here was nothing like the view they had back home. Still, she should really be more careful. With the wind being this… windy, she was showing something she probably shouldn't be showing to her and the paladin. They might all be girls but it was still improper. That was why she herself had been holding down her skirt for a while now. It wasn't a problem back when the game was just a game. But now... The trio walked further down the road, or whatever you call the dirt line they were following. Every day carriages would travel on it, ensuring that no new grass would grow and ruin the path. They saw other players in the area, either gathering the low-level herbs or fighting the low-level monsters in the area. Everything was nice and peaceful. Just like Myrtle predicted. "See?" The weather mage gave Anastasia a victorious smirk. "Nothing to worry about!" Of course, she ignored the banters and shouts and whatever. That was part of the peace she spoke of after all. Suddenly, the paladin gave them a question. "Hmm?" Myrtle pressed her index on her cheek and tilted her head. "What do I want to do? Isn't it obvious? Killing mobs, of course! We gotta get use to that if we're going to live in this world!" She smiled at her. And as if in cue, a horned rabbit strolled into her sight. "Ah! That rabbit! That's good target practice!" Myrtle focused her mind and fired her weakest, most basic spell. She already had her staff out so there was no need to bring it out of her inventory. "Crackle!" A simple spell that attacked the enemy by charging the air around them with electricity, simulating thunderclouds. However… CRASH A powerful jolt of electricity burst forth from the air surrounding the rabbit, disintegrating the poor creature in an instant, leaving the smell of burned flesh and grass, as well as making the skin of every person nearby tingle. She forgot. Her basic spell had been upgraded to its most destructive form over the course of her leveling. She really didn't have any weak spells anymore. "Oops, I… might have gone a little overboard there." Myrtle scratched the back of her head with a nervous smile as she glanced at her friends.</s>	<\|message\|>Itouchi Horiyama Saito Souji Aluvera - Outskirts --- The ensuing escape from the city was largely uneventful, aside from the ongoing attack. Aside from the flames and destroyed streets in some areas, the screaming and chaos had subsided. As the group relaxed, Saito simply stood just a little to the side as he made himself comfortable. Despite the state they left the town in, being outside of it and in a more open space put him at ease. From the way the conversation was going, it looks like they were in for almost a week of travel, assuming it's not a few days without rest. Which was strange, traversing from one part of the land to another should not take that long, given the towns that were cited. Such was another difference between this world and the game... Hmmm, for all they knew the world could be completely different. A question was directed at him as the conversation continued. "Hmmmm, we're not out here to to tackle a dungeon or boss. If we're only travelling then this much is fine. We just need to avoid unnecessary challenges", it was true. While something like a healer may make things easier, there were other ways to keep oneself healthy in this game... Or rather, world he would wager. Potions and food and the like. There wasn't much reason to have a sustained form of healing.</s>
<\|description\|>Itouchi Horiyama Character Name: Saito Souji Race: Human Age: 24 Personality: Itouchi is a somewhat reserved individual, as one might expect from a young Japanese man, however he has a particular sense of judgement. He is prone to making his own conclusions about other people, and while he may not act on those conclusions without further observation, he can break that rule should the person in question be of distaste to him. In particular, those who treat others horribly, who act in service of only themselves, or if they act childishly and waste people's time. Normally he would simply avoid them, but there are times when he may confront them if he believes that not doing so would seriously harm the group. Despite his rather strong sense of judgement, he's a friendly person, though perhaps due to being reserved, acts somewhat formally most of the time. There are times when around close friends he may act much less so, making more jokes and acting somewhat more carefree. Perhaps something one might notice is a particularly fondness for the Shinsengumi, and though it is not as obvious as it used to be, the leftovers of that more pronounced phase of his remain in his name. History: Itouchi like many young men graduating university, would find themselves applying for a company and then working there as a salaryman. He was rather fortunate to find a good company, having had a rather normal upbringing. It was this somewhat normal lifestyle combined with the more lonely lifestyle of a salaryman that perhaps pushed him towards Emerald Odyssey, seeking something a little more exciting between work days. He started playing roughly three or four years ago, and for the first few of those he became an accomplished raider, perhaps the very best for one of the expansions, but stopped after realizing the stress it was beginning to put him under. Though he is thankful for those years as it has shaped him into a more than competent player, both overall skill with the game, and when it comes to playing with other people which was a central component. From then on he normally just played the game with friends, only delving into difficult content on a casual basis. Class(es): * Samurai - [Katana] - A melee DPS class that utilizes a Katana. A swift and agile class boasting high critical rate and critical damage that aims to move through droves of enemies with very few strokes of the blade. As a drawback, their damage if they do not land a precise strike would be more than underwhelming, and defensive capabilities are nearly none, preferring to avoid blocking with their weapon. They have access to perhaps the fastest set of weapon skills called Battoujutsu, where the samurai may resheathe their weapon, gathering up their focus and spiritual energy before unleashing it in an impressive display of blinding speed. * Kagemusha - [Nodachi] - Meaning "shadow warrior", a tank class that utilizes a Nodachi. In particular they make use of shadowy decoys to gain the attention of the enemy and even confuse them, as well as creating veils of shadow over their allies in order to hide them or guard them from attack. Every shadow generated costs a portion of the Kagemusha's health pool, however should these decoys slay enemies or deal sufficient damage, they can return to the Kagemusha to restore their health. * Ashigaru - [Matchlock Firearms] - A ranged DPS class that utilizes matchlock firearms. Though it has a low firing rate compared to many if not all ranged classes, it boasts high damage per shot, and the highest critical damage of ranged classes. Despite being a ranged DPS class, it is frequently seen fighting in close quarters, only retreating to fire off their fatal shots. The Ashigaru also use matchlock handguns in these situations, with skills based around evasion and breaking armor. This class is also known to be a popular secondary, as the handguns can be used alongside any weapon that can be wielded with one hand. Non-Combat * Blacksmith - Though he doesn't delve a lot into crafting, he found himself making use of blacksmith frequently to maintain his weapons. He can craft new ones too, but for some reason the best weapons he can craft are all for his classes. Blacksmith as a profession is quite popular as people need or want new shiny gear all the time, and while he is not a reputed crafter, the katana that he can craft are of top quality... And nothing else. Other: * His character name Saito Souji is a combination of Hajime Saito and Okita Souji. * Kagemusha refers to a political term coined during the Sengoku period meaning "shadow warrior", and means to refer to body doubles, thus the protective nature of the class. * The coat he wears is obtained from PvP, and was a limited run at the time. Very few players have it. * He has a small player home in the eastern region.</s> <\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Myrtle Bramblewood Sen Rynta — Windy Plains "Well!" Myrtle turned to the group and gave an awkward smile. "Let's forget about that! We don't really need ingredients from such a low-level opponent in the first place!" This really is a problem though. With my stats and level, none of these monsters can stand a chance against even the weakest of my spells. I guess I'll just have to downgrade my equipment. Her gaze returned back to the rabbit. "Well, that's odd. The corpse is still there. I guess it doesn't despawn like usual anymore." She walked over to it and poked it with her staff. "Yep, it's a corpse alright. Don't think any of it is usable though. Not with the damage I've done to it." She walked back to the group. "So, here's some advice. You guys should downgrade the equipment you wear if you don't want to just obliterate these small fries." With a swipe of her hand, she opened her menu. "Hmm, let me see… do I have any low-level equipment here…"</s> <\|message\|>Agaue Selinofoto Agaue Selinofoto Miura Yui Location: Sen Rynta - Windy Plains [Outskirts] @PKMNB0Y --- --- From the rather crispy carcass, to Myrtle's candid attitude, Yui could not help but sigh softly. Aside from the light show, it would seem that animals were not an exception to this world's regeneration laws. Whatever they would destroy, it would leave behind its evidence. Yui knelt by the unfortunate sacrifice, and poked it with her gloved hands. Nothing here was salvageable, obviously, but if it were... well, at least Yui had experience in prep work. Yui knew that she had nothing to safely kill these small creatures, all of her equipment for her classes were BIS (best in slot). Nothing short of high-end and high quality. That was, and is, the problem. Yui didn't know her limits, even as a tank, a single poke of her lance might stab through creatures entirely. If she wanted something valuable from them, she needed to find a way to obtain it efficiently. Another rabbit came by to see the commotion. It locked eyes with Yui. There was a moment of acknowledgement between the two. With the speed of a cheetah, Yui threw the nearest stick at its head. Imapct. A moment of silence. The rabbit screamed and ran away, seemingly with tears in its eyes. It would have been comical, if only Yui wasn't serious about that experiment. "What materials are you looking for?". Yui stood up again, dusting the dirt off her knees.</s> <\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Myrtle Bramblewood Sen Rynta — Windy Plains "Oh, nothing in particular," Myrtle replied with her easygoing smile. "I don't need materials from low level areas like this." Meanwhile, Anastasia's gaze was locked on another rabbit, one that was still unaware of her presence. "Anny?" Myrtle noticed her friend's serious expression. "I think—I think I can take it on." She opened her inventory and took out her leatherwork knife. Holding it tightly in her right hand, she slowly sneaked up on the creature before plunging it into its soft flesh. The creature died instantly. And with barely any harm to its fur, skin, or horn. "Whoa! That was hardcore, Anny!" Myrtle ran to where she stood. The red haired girl turned around and smiled bashfully. "Oh, it's nothing. I just thought that with my low stat as a leatherworker, I can kill it safely like that." "Nonono, I'm not talking about that! I'm talking about how you can just stab it with a knife like it's nothing! Casting magic like me is one thing but actually using a real knife like that, I don't think I can ever do it!" Myrtle's gaze then switched to the paladin. "How about you, Agaue? You can slash people with that sword of yours?"</s> <\|message\|>Kosame Ariyoshi Kokoma Aluvera - City outskirts --- "Hmm...good question when did it come out..." Kokoma would frown, thinking about it slightly as she'd hop off Kuja. "Nine years? Gosh ten years stuck in that same boring job, ugh..." She'd cough, chuckling lightly before quickly moving on. "Annnyways, yep, that sounds about right! So if you need anything you can rely on Kokoma. I know this place like I know my fluffy tail!" The reincarnator would smugly grin at her own experience. "Tamed almost every tameable monster! Speaking of, right! Mounts! Lets see...how did I do it again...?" She'd reach up to her mouth, and a loud, high pitched whistle would call out through the area. It would take a few moments for it to have some noticeable effect, but it would not take long to take note of something quickly approaching the group. It would look like a...giant...wheel of water, at first? It was rolling towards them at an extremely high speed, and no doubt was some sort of monster! It would spin faster and faster as it'd approach, heading right for Kokoma, though she didn't seem too perturbed by it even if, briefly it didn't look like it was about to slow down. At least, until there was a thread of silk that would wrap itself around it, and then what was an Arachne in a maid dress leaping in to knock the wheel of water - now revealed to be some sort of aquatic dragon looking creature to fall over on its side. "Ahem, apologies master Kokoma. Teel got excited." The arachne would say, approaching and looking at the others gathered. "...ah, is this our current party?" "Heheh, yep! Everyone, this is Talliya and Teel...did Shiro not come? Tsk, I know it said he was a troublesome kid in the game files but come on...anyways I think these three should be able to help us cover ground more quickly?" "A pleasure to meet you, everyone. I am Kokoma's maid. Are we...helping you travel?" Kokoma would hop up onto the Arachne's abdomen.</s> <\|message\|>Takeyama Matsuo "... I've been playing for five years now," Sefira said, after giving Kokoma one more look. She hoped, hoped that no-one had figured out why she was reluctant to say her real name right now. But dwelling on that matter was going to get her no-where. As annoying as the beast tamer was proving, the fact she had mounts like this meant that it was much easier to travel. Even if one of them almost ran her over like that. With a sigh, Sefira pushed her way off the first of the beasts and stumbled as she landed on her feet, stretching her legs. They felt a little bit sore from how she'd been jostled about riding that beast at high speeds. "I suppose if I have to travel in this world, I could do much worse," she added, glancing towards the other beasts that Kokoma had summoned. An arachne serving as her maid? That was bound to be a weird mount. Riding a sapient being who had a largely human body save for about the lower hips to the legs... it had such a strange vibe to her. @Rune_Alchemist@Sho Minazuki</s>	<\|message\|>Itouchi Horiyama Saito Souji Aluvera - Outskirts --- "Saito Souji", he introduced himself briefly, as he allowed the conversation to continue. All of a sudden their group had become larger. It meant they were well-equipped if a battle needed to be fought. All he was doing now really was thinking what would make sense if this world was real, after all... As it was, he had no reason to treat it otherwise, the senses he was experiencing was unlike sitting at a computer and playing. "Just a few years myself, I guess...?", in actuality, everyone here probably had zero years. It's not as if playing this game equated to travelling the world or anything... One of their new companions was a tamer, and their choice of mount was... Spiders? "How unusual... But I suppose if we can travel quickly, it will be worth standing out in such a way", he surmised. Indeed, the mount menu was disabled, but tamers had mounts built into their kits.</s>
<\|description\|>Yasuho Tanaka Character Name: Myrtle Bramblewood Race: Human Appearance: Age: 18 years old Personality: A cheerful and bubbly girl. Instead of being distressed by her newfound circumstances, she instead welcomes it. It's an exciting new adventure after all. In real life, she's somewhat of a lazy girl. She doesn't see the point of striving more than the bare minimum in her studies. After all, even if she gets into a good college, there's no guarantee she'll have a good job. In fact, she starts planning to earn her living as a ramen seller instead. She loves cooking after all. In the game, however, she puts a lot more effort into her character. She might not be the kind of player who goes for the hardest fights in the game, but she will grind her alchemy and cooking skills to the max. Her goal? Make a lot of money, of course. She wants to have the largest mansion. Or even her own land if she could. To her, the game was more of a trading simulator than an RPG. And so, she becomes a cunning yet trustworthy crafter. She won't break her promises to the customers but she'll absolutely try to squeeze every single penny out of them. Hates studying in real life. Another reason to be excited with her transportation into the MMO world. History: In the real world, Yasuho was just one of the many unassuming Japanese high school girls that filled the nation. Her grades were average, her looks were average, and her love life was also average (and by that, she meant she didn't have any). On Emerald Odyssey however, she was one of the top alchemists in her server, always there to provide potions for top players. As a result, her character was quite rich. So rich in fact that she has her own mansion with NPC servants. Her laboratory is also located inside said mansion. Speaking of NPCs, she also hired some as Gatherers. Not for high level ingredients, mind you, since that's impossible for them to gather, but for low level ones. As for her Cooking, it's still not on that level, unfortunately. But it's still decent enough that she can use the buffs provided from her dishes to aid her in combat. In short, she was happier in the game than in real life. Not only does she look better (her character is definitely cuter than her real self), but she's actually somewhat of an important person there. Many guilds depended on her potions. And many gatherers depended on her money, as she employed multiple of them as her permanent ingredients suppliers. Her mansion is located in Sen Rynta, the city above the clouds. She likes the view. Class(es): Alchemist, Weather Mage, Culinarian Alchemist A crafting class that specializes in potion creations. A potion can heal your HP and MP, as well as buff your stats, both combat ones and crafting/gathering ones. Naturally, this means potions are always in demand, especially the best ones. To craft a potion, one needs to at least have an alembic in their possession. Though of course, the more complex and high level the potion is, the more tools one would need to craft it. Eventually, one will need an entire alchemist laboratory to do it. One can purchase the ingredients necessary for said potions from other players, particularly gatherers. NPCs certainly sell more but they're only for low level potions. And of course, one can just gather them themselves. Weather Mage A combat class that can conjure all sorts of weather effects to attack their opponents. For example, conjuring stormclouds to rain her enemies with lightning. Or creating fog to obscure the enemy's vision. A weather mage uses both her own mana and the ambient mana of her surroundings. In the beginning of a fight, a weather mage can only use small weather phenomenona, like a single thundercloud firing down lightning to a single opponent. However, the longer the fight goes, the more ambient mana the mage absorbs, until eventually, she can use her big spells. Then, once, the ambient mana she absorbed runs out, the cycle begins anew again. Culinarian Another crafter class. In some ways, it is quite similar to alchemist. The food a Culinarian makes gives buffs to players as well. And you also need more than a pan and a spatula to cook all sorts of food. However, Culinarians are somewhat in demand for player-run restaurants that popped out in every single city. Since food buffs last a lot longer than potion buffs, you can have a meal there before tackling a difficult boss. Food, however, can't instantaneously heal HP and MP like potions can Other: One of Myrtle's NPC retainers. Mrytle's main supplier. A timid girl who would never dare to raise her prices, making her the perfect partner for the conniving alchemist.</s> <\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Luna Myrtle Bramblewood Sen Rynta — Wellspring Park Hmm? What's this? A new character just entered the fray? She seemed to be a knight, judging by that armor. A Paladin, perhaps? So she's a PC. And she's healing the man! Ooh, that's great! Someone does listen to my speech back there! Though thinking about it, I could've given him one of my healing potions. Oops, I completely forgot I could do that. Once the Paladin stood back up, however, she gave Myrtle an unsolicited advice. And she wasn't sure if she liked said advice. "Dangerous? I don't think there's anything dangerous about what's going on here." Myrtle folded her hands under her chest with a confident smile. "I can hold my own in a fight. Oh, and thank you, by the way, for healing him. Now that we're stuck in this world, we really should start treating these NPCs better." She then reached her hand towards the paladin. "The name's Myrtle Bramblewood. Pleased to meet you, Miss."</s> <\|message\|>Itouchi Horiyama Saito Souji Aluvera - Alleyway --- Certainly, it did not feel right to just be gallivanting off while fighting was going on outside, although given the circumstances, getting answers seemed to be priority, at least to everyone present. The explanation given was not substantial in his opinion, nothing said was unable to be gleamed from just looking around, or witnessing the spectacle prior. The answer given whether or not the young girl knew them or not was rather cryptic, and only raised more questions. In times like these, perhaps going along with the events was the better course of action, and it seemed to be the way everyone here was going to go. "Hmmmm... Well, I suppose I'll also play along. It seems there's more to this than just some 'attack' on a town", one that was a sanctuary no less, it seems the world did not abide by the rules of the game anymore, that much was already certain. Only thing not understood was to what extent... As the talking went on he quickly summed it up cutting towards the end of a long-winded explanation. "Basically, to cut it short, we know nothing. We woke up and ended up in a game we play frequently. It may seem strange for us to call your world a game but that is just how it is... Or rather, was. We were hoping to get answers from you instead", he explained.</s> <\|message\|>Character List Shokatsu YuAluvera — Inconspicuous House Nova's explanation of their situation, paired with Saito's rather succinct synopsis, left Eunice at a rather distinct loss for words. There was a moment where it seemed as she might almost ask if they were lying to her face, but the expressions on the three adventurers' faces left her little reason to doubt the veracity of their claims. To this, the white-haired woman sat there in silence, trying to process everything mentally before shaking her head in disbelief. "I... No, the travel from another world would explain your presence, but a world without magic? That doesn't explain why everyone else seems to treat your presence here as a matter of fact, though..." she muttered to herself quietly before leaning forward, her eyes towards the ground all the while. "And... A game? I understand what you mean by 'computer', I think, but to emulate our world, people and all, with pieces on a board—" "It's not a game in the sense that you might be thinking," Yu said, interrupting Eunice's mumbling to add his own piece to the others' explanations. "While this world only really has board games, the game we are referring to is akin to... I suppose the best analogy in this case would be an interactive storybook or dream world, where we can create and interact with characters and the world within? That doesn't mean that the world as we see it now was exactly as we saw it, though, seeing as how those streets and this house didn't exist before..." Despite her apparent shock, though, it seems that the explanation had managed to reach Eunice. As absurd as all of this sounded, it seemed impossible for three strangers to corroborate the same story on a whim when asked, and so she could only accept this as the truth behind the situation until she learned more. "...I see that I have much to consider for the days—no, weeks to come. Sadly, I have not heard of any spells with the capacity to summon people from another world, much less change such a large quantity of humans into other races and manipulate the memories of those who live in the world, but I shall do my best in helping everyone seek out the cause of their presence here," she finally said, taking a deep breath before looking back towards the three present, uncertain as she looked about being given such a revelation in the first place. At that, though, Eunice soon turned back towards Nova, whose questions she had thus left unanswered; after all, with the question of their presence here unanswerable at the moment, it only seemed prudent to address that which they could attempt to resolve before anything else. "Now, to answer your questions thus: I had stated that you all—in other words, all of the adventurers in this world, or at least those who witnessed that man's descent into Aluvera—had a desire to know, and my memories state that no small number would move aggressively in an attempt to pry information from him, regardless of what he may actually know. I am not excusing myself from the number of those who would wish to get to the root of this problem, but I would rather prioritize the life of a person and obtain information by speaking with him rather than banking on the possibility that force might expedite the process." The serious tone she had taken made it clear that Eunice did not particularly like being painted as hypocritical, but that was more an aside than anything else given that the more important question had yet to be addressed. "As for my plans hereon... Supposing that our visitor from Pelemeos had not arrived, I would visit the other city-states in Usira and decide on a more proper course of action afterwards. My intent is to help try and settle this matter out of the public eye until the dust has settled, though I suspect that the possibility of massive upheaval is rather high." With a sigh, Eunice turned towards the other two briefly to see if they might give some minor nod of approval before continuing. "That... Is the long and short of it, I suppose. To stay here in Aluvera or follow me on my trip, or even trust my words in the first place... I will leave to you to choose." Minazuki@SilverPaw --- Aluvera — City Streets As Kokoma and Sefira rode further from the center of the city, the presence of monsters would drop off—at least, initially it would. Nearing the city's gates, closed as they were now, would reveal that most of the beasts that had not been killed outright had fled outside the walls. The plains provided little in terms of cover, but with the nature of the monsters, such things might not have provided much in terms of assistance for them. With that said, less obstructions meant more room to wreak havoc on the people outside, be they slightly overconfident adventurers or the unfortunate guards who were by no means prepared for an onslaught as sudden as this. The monsters were rather thin in number, but even with a few seasoned adventurers slowly making their way onto the battlefield, they could only kill so many at a time... @VitaVitaAR --- Sen Rynta — Wellspring Park Once he had finished dragging the unconscious man out of the way, the Belva brushed himself off before crossing his arms and nodding, well pleased at himself for being able to move someone multiple times his size despite the situation. It would have been rather embarrassing to have needed assistance, after all. It was it at this point that the pink-haired girl strode over to him and offered to become contacts. Given the casual nature of the request and the situation, he was hardly in any situation to refuse, and so... "Mmm... I see no reason not to," he began, fiddling for a bit with the air in front of him before finally finding what he had desired and promptly sending the request to the girl in front of him. The name "Mini Marcher", clear for Myrtle to see, wasn't exactly serious, but whether or not she would make a quip about it remained to be seen. The arrival of another woman—an elven Paladin, by the looks of things—brought some relief for the unconscious man in the form of some healing, but as as the two began to talk, Mini seemed to take a step back to see how this would end up panning out. @Operator Luna</s>	<\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Myrtle Bramblewood Sen Rynta — Wellspring Park "Thank you!" Myrtle clasped her hands with excitement when she heard the Belva's reply. "Then, I'll send my contacts right now!" She opened her menu with a swipe of her finger (for some reason it just came naturally to her, even though this was her second time doing so). Traversing to contacts, she then sent a friend request to the Belva. But since she no longer had a mouse to click on him, she had to aim the floating box towards him. Only to find that she was beaten by his request by a microsecond. "Oh, dammit!" She cursed under her breath. Only one person was needed to initiate a friend request after all. The other side could just accept and both persons would receive the others' names in their contacts. Of course, once the confirmation box appeared, she pressed the "Yes" button. With a satisfying click, his name then appeared on her contact list. Really? Mini Marcher? That's cute. She stifled a giggle. Speaking of that, she scrolled through the names, finding that many of her usual acquaintances were marked as "Online". They were her fellow crafters, her frequent customers, and the gatherers she bought material from. She considered for a second to send a message to them but put it off for later once she had returned to her mansion. Not that she would have a chance to do so anyway, thanks to the paladin's arrival.</s>
<\|description\|>Yasuho Tanaka Character Name: Myrtle Bramblewood Race: Human Appearance: Age: 18 years old Personality: A cheerful and bubbly girl. Instead of being distressed by her newfound circumstances, she instead welcomes it. It's an exciting new adventure after all. In real life, she's somewhat of a lazy girl. She doesn't see the point of striving more than the bare minimum in her studies. After all, even if she gets into a good college, there's no guarantee she'll have a good job. In fact, she starts planning to earn her living as a ramen seller instead. She loves cooking after all. In the game, however, she puts a lot more effort into her character. She might not be the kind of player who goes for the hardest fights in the game, but she will grind her alchemy and cooking skills to the max. Her goal? Make a lot of money, of course. She wants to have the largest mansion. Or even her own land if she could. To her, the game was more of a trading simulator than an RPG. And so, she becomes a cunning yet trustworthy crafter. She won't break her promises to the customers but she'll absolutely try to squeeze every single penny out of them. Hates studying in real life. Another reason to be excited with her transportation into the MMO world. History: In the real world, Yasuho was just one of the many unassuming Japanese high school girls that filled the nation. Her grades were average, her looks were average, and her love life was also average (and by that, she meant she didn't have any). On Emerald Odyssey however, she was one of the top alchemists in her server, always there to provide potions for top players. As a result, her character was quite rich. So rich in fact that she has her own mansion with NPC servants. Her laboratory is also located inside said mansion. Speaking of NPCs, she also hired some as Gatherers. Not for high level ingredients, mind you, since that's impossible for them to gather, but for low level ones. As for her Cooking, it's still not on that level, unfortunately. But it's still decent enough that she can use the buffs provided from her dishes to aid her in combat. In short, she was happier in the game than in real life. Not only does she look better (her character is definitely cuter than her real self), but she's actually somewhat of an important person there. Many guilds depended on her potions. And many gatherers depended on her money, as she employed multiple of them as her permanent ingredients suppliers. Her mansion is located in Sen Rynta, the city above the clouds. She likes the view. Class(es): Alchemist, Weather Mage, Culinarian Alchemist A crafting class that specializes in potion creations. A potion can heal your HP and MP, as well as buff your stats, both combat ones and crafting/gathering ones. Naturally, this means potions are always in demand, especially the best ones. To craft a potion, one needs to at least have an alembic in their possession. Though of course, the more complex and high level the potion is, the more tools one would need to craft it. Eventually, one will need an entire alchemist laboratory to do it. One can purchase the ingredients necessary for said potions from other players, particularly gatherers. NPCs certainly sell more but they're only for low level potions. And of course, one can just gather them themselves. Weather Mage A combat class that can conjure all sorts of weather effects to attack their opponents. For example, conjuring stormclouds to rain her enemies with lightning. Or creating fog to obscure the enemy's vision. A weather mage uses both her own mana and the ambient mana of her surroundings. In the beginning of a fight, a weather mage can only use small weather phenomenona, like a single thundercloud firing down lightning to a single opponent. However, the longer the fight goes, the more ambient mana the mage absorbs, until eventually, she can use her big spells. Then, once, the ambient mana she absorbed runs out, the cycle begins anew again. Culinarian Another crafter class. In some ways, it is quite similar to alchemist. The food a Culinarian makes gives buffs to players as well. And you also need more than a pan and a spatula to cook all sorts of food. However, Culinarians are somewhat in demand for player-run restaurants that popped out in every single city. Since food buffs last a lot longer than potion buffs, you can have a meal there before tackling a difficult boss. Food, however, can't instantaneously heal HP and MP like potions can Other: One of Myrtle's NPC retainers. Mrytle's main supplier. A timid girl who would never dare to raise her prices, making her the perfect partner for the conniving alchemist.</s> <\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Myrtle Bramblewood Sen Rynta — Wellspring Park "Thank you!" Myrtle clasped her hands with excitement when she heard the Belva's reply. "Then, I'll send my contacts right now!" She opened her menu with a swipe of her finger (for some reason it just came naturally to her, even though this was her second time doing so). Traversing to contacts, she then sent a friend request to the Belva. But since she no longer had a mouse to click on him, she had to aim the floating box towards him. Only to find that she was beaten by his request by a microsecond. "Oh, dammit!" She cursed under her breath. Only one person was needed to initiate a friend request after all. The other side could just accept and both persons would receive the others' names in their contacts. Of course, once the confirmation box appeared, she pressed the "Yes" button. With a satisfying click, his name then appeared on her contact list. Really? Mini Marcher? That's cute. She stifled a giggle. Speaking of that, she scrolled through the names, finding that many of her usual acquaintances were marked as "Online". They were her fellow crafters, her frequent customers, and the gatherers she bought material from. She considered for a second to send a message to them but put it off for later once she had returned to her mansion. Not that she would have a chance to do so anyway, thanks to the paladin's arrival.</s> <\|message\|>Agaue Selinofoto Agaue Selinofoto Miura Yui Location: Sen Rynta - Wellspring Park @PKMNB0Y --- --- Yui stared at the hand that outreached towards her. "The name's Myrtle Bramblewood. Pleased to meet you, Miss.", spoke the young Human. There must be an unspoken etiquette to use in-game usernames. Not that she had any qualms about using her real life name, but in another way, it felt nice. "Agaue. Agaue Selinofoto." Yui responded, firmly shaking Myrtle's hand, like it was a business greeting. Yui glanced at the Belva, who - from his stance - seemed to not want to interfere. Fine by her. Yui was not evangelistic, nor it was of her mind to be associated with the drama that unfolded earlier. However, it did not mean she was not concerned for her safety. One look, and Yui knew that Myrtle had no combat experience whatsoever. Turning her back to them, Yui looked to the bright blue sky, closing her eyes as she felt the slight breeze of the wind, explaining, "It was dangerous. I do not know how long you have been stuck inside this game, assuming you're a player as well-". Her armour rattled as Yui faced the trio again, the sun made her a glowing figure. "I'd be more aware of your new reality." Yui folded her arms, but her face remains as straight as ever. After hearing Myrtle - if she had any thing else to say, Yui asked, "What are your plans now?". Yui needed to see the state of affairs, of the world. There were things to be addressed, and Yui knew that she had to get to the bottom of this mysterious summoning. If they wanted to come along, so be it. If they needed help, so she would, as long as it led her to the cause of her buzzing intuitions.</s>	<\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Myrtle Bramblewood Sen Rynta — Wellspring Park "Ooh, Agaue Selinofoto! That's a cool, if not a little bit weird name!" Myrtle moved her hands up and down with excitement as she shook hers. "My name is straight up plain compared to yours!" Whoa! She's glowing! Is it just a trick of the eye or is it her Paladin magic? I don't remember any Paladin skills that can do that though. "Oh, don't be such a worrywart!" Myrtle released her hand, still smiling. "I'm a max level Weather Mage! Just because I don't have my staff out doesn't mean I don't know how to fight!" She opened her inventory and equipped the staff, materializing the weapon right at the perfect angle for her to snatch. She slammed its iron tip to the ground before giving it a twirl, ending by throwing it mid-air and aiming it towards the paladin. Yes, for some reason, she could perfectly manipulate the staff to her liking without clumsily dropping it like she had expected. It probably came from the class, she told herself. "Here! Let me show you my magic even! I can't use the big stuff in a place like this but a simple tornado should suffice." To be honest, she didn't know how she was supposed to use her spells. She didn't have any buttons to press. Not in this new world. So all she could think of was just to imagine the spell she wanted as she lifted her staff. "Tornado!" Hey, maybe yelling it would help too. To her amazement, the spell triggered. Wind began to sword rapidly above her, forming a small whirlwind visible to the naked eye. She had placed it mid-air quite a way above where they stood so they were safe from its sucking effect. Still, the swirling wind was strong enough to make the trees around them bend and sway. Her dress and hair followed suit, as well as any cloaks and skirts of both PCs and NPCs in the area. It seemed unlike in the game, non-hostile NPCs were still affected by PC's spells. "See? I wasn't lying! That Tornado over there is the max-level version! Not the silly breeze the low level version was!" She lowered her staff, and with it, the spell disappeared. "So if anything happens, I think I can handle it just fine!" She grinned, putting her left hand on her waist. "As for my plans, I think I'm going to invite my friends for a gathering or sorts. See if we can share info with each other. I have a mansion in this city, you see, perfect for such an event. Oh, you can come if you want!"</s>
<\|description\|>Character List @PKMNB0Y — Shokatsu Yu @Hammerman — Myrtle Bramblewood @Rune_Alchemist — Kokoma @SilverPaw — Nova Albright @Sho Minazuki — Saito Souji @VitaVitaAR — Sefira Sylvanbelle</s> <\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Yasuho Tanaka/Myrtle Bramblewood This is it! This is the day! Ooh, I'm so excited! What day, you may ask? Why, the day for the new expansion of Emerald Odyssey, of course! I've been waiting for this day for so long you have no idea how excited I am right now! Yasuho Tanaka was spinning in her room, her uniform skirt fluttering as she did. She had just gotten back from school and without even undressing, she booted up her PC with a kick of her foot. As she waited for the boot-up to finish, she danced around, talking to herself in the process. It was what she always did whenever she got too excited. She needed to let it out of her system after all. Only after she started to feel dizzy that she pulled her seifuku up her head and unzipped her skirt. Dumping both unceremoniously in the laundry bin, she sat on her lovely gaming chair and clicked on the icon for the game. Perfect! It already updated by itself! Hehe, thanks to my genius that let it run all night yesterday! Grinning, she clicked the Enter button. The game loaded in an instant, shifting into the title screen with the logo for the game. She clicked log in, selected her character, and waited until the game finished loading. Well, that's weird. No queues at all? On a release day? And then, light enveloped her. … … … Huh? She blinked. Wait, what just happened? She blinked again. Her PC… it had disappeared, vanished into the void. There was now only a wooden chair in front of herself. Or rather, a dresser, as there was a mirror right above it. Her eyes widened. The face she saw in the mirror… wasn't her face in the slightest. It was her character, Myrtle Bramblewood. She yelped, her body leaning too much backwards that she and her chair fell. "Miss Myrtle? Are you alright?" She heard the sound of a door opening. Looking to her right, still upside down with her legs up in the air, she found that a maid was entering the room. Her eyes widened once again. That's Azure! One of my retainers! In the game, players with sufficient funds could pay for NPC retainers to work for them. Azure was one of them. She dressed her up as a maid since it fit with the western mansion aesthetics that she used as her house. "Miss Myrtle, how can you fall over like that? Here, let me help you up." The maid bent over and lifted the chair back up. The weight of her mistress and the heavy chair didn't seem to bother her in the slightest. "Hehe, thank you, Azure." Myrtle scratched her blushing cheek. Wait, why am I talking so casually like this? I've been transported into the world of Emerald Odyssey! And my face! And this body! They all belong to my character, Myrtle Bramblewood! Somehow or the other, I have transformed into her! Myrtle pinched her cheek. No dice. This really wasn't a dream. She stood up to have a look at her new body better. Slim waist, flat chest, average height, pink hair — it really was the body of her character. It took her three hours to customize her appearance so there would be no chance she forgot how she looked. She then twirled in place, her eyes locked to the hem of her short dress. Yep. This was also the outfit she had equipped for her. "Milady, is something the matter?" The voice of her retainer interrupted her thoughts. "A-ah, nothing!" Myrtle smiled nervously. She couldn't very well tell her about this! Especially since she was supposed to be her! The maid pouted. "I believe you need a rest, Milady. Shall we take a stroll outside?" "Outside? Y-yeah, that's a great idea, Azure! We should do that!" Myrtle praised herself for her swift thinking. Outside! Yes, she had to go there! She had to see if she really had been brought into the MMO world she loved! "Very well, Miss." The maid smiled. "I shall pack a lunch and we can have a picnic together in the park." With a quick bow, she left the room, leaving me back with my own devices. "Whew… that was… nerve-wracking… since when an NPC like her can act that intelligently?" She frowned. "Though if this is an alternate world of sorts, and not literally the world inside the game, that would make sense…" She paced back and forth for a bit, squeezing her chin with her index and thumb. Until she suddenly stopped and snapped her fingers. "Well, time to look around this place! First, we'll start from this room!" The place was big, a lot bigger than her room back in the real world. A large queen-sized bed was neatly tucked to the northwest corner of the room (if she were to assume the door was on the south). A grandfather clock stood proudly to the east, along with the dresser. A full bookshelf was placed to the north and a lit chandelier was hanging from the ceiling. There were two pairs of windows — one near the dresser and the other above the bed. It was exactly like the bedroom she had designed inside the game. A knock came from the door. She jumped. "Milady, I'm ready. We can depart now." She turned in a flash. "A-ah, yes, excellent work, Azure! Let us depart then!" She spared one last glance at the room before she left. This was her room. No doubt about it. She imagined in her head that the room was to be used by her character when she designed it. And now, it had become a reality. Just what in the world was going on?</s> <\|message\|>Akira Sakai Nova --- --- After a long day at the university, shopping for food, and getting some stretching in before her planned gaming binge, Akira was more than ready to flop into the chair before her computer. She had her water, snack, and comfy pajamas all ready, computed booted up, Emerald Odyssey ready to play. She clicked on the game's icon, and took out her phone. She checked to see if there were any in-game videos of the newest update, but it seemed like people were too keen to try it out all to have made any yet. Not too unexpected, given that it was launch day, and that the update had gone live within the last hour or so. Akira tapped on her phone mindlessly as she waited for the game to load. She expected a significant wait when she clicked into one of the servers, but oddly, there was no waiting queue. Setting the phone aside, she readied her fingers at the keyboard and mouse, but then– A blinding white light enveloped her. One minute, she'd been in her room, and the next…She was standing in front of very familiar city gates. Aluvera. The city was distinct and familiar, and she recognized it immediately. She'd seen it often enough for one, and for another, it had been only a few days ago that she'd left her character her the last time she'd played. Right. Her character. Could it be…? Akira looked down, and saw the familiar fashion, as well as the katana sheathed at her hip. Amazed, she touched the clothing, the hilt, the scabbard…It was immaculate, truly. Making a final check, she pinched her cheek, and her eyes slightly watered. Well. It felt real enough, huh. But Isekai wasn't supposed to exist outside of stories… Looking around, the choice of whether to wander farther away into the wide stretch of grassland or to enter the safety of the city was an easy one to make. As she passed through the gates, she caught sight of some guards, and approached. "Hey!" she greeted somewhat forcefully, and walked closer. They shifted slightly, and one of them nodded in invitation. "Do you know how I came to be here?" she asked. "I…am unsure what you are asking, miss," one replied. The guards glanced at each other, apparently deeming her as a weirdo. "You must have travelled here," another pitched in with a shrug. Akira exhaled forcefully, brushing a hand through her hair. Even this minor gesture revealed something new – her wolf ears. She touched them cautiously, trying to look up to see, which was of course impossible. "Ahh, I'd forgotten about this," she muttered, removing the hand from her head, and looking round at her rump. A wide sweeping tail was there to meet her, black furred and swinging from side to side. These additions had been so natural, she'd not felt them at all till now. Also, her mind her been honestly too preoccupied by this whole situation to also remember that she wasn't exactly human anymore. "Miss?" one guard questioned, and Akira realized he'd been saying something while she was absorbed in her inspection. Seeing he'd caught her attention, he added, "Perhaps you should go see a healer. You do, er, seem to be…suffering from some memory loss, perhaps?" he suggested warily. Akira scratched her – Nova's? – ear ruefully. "Yeah, alright. Thanks for the help, mister." Then, she departed, weaving through the crowd as she walked briskly towards the town square. She saw plenty of players, all as confused as she was, trying to log out, or find people they knew…she could be doing that too, she thought, but there was one thing prior to that she wanted to accomplish. Once at the town square, she approached the fountain, and peered into her reflection. "So, it is Nova," she stated, unsurprised. She'd already concluded as much. Should I go by Nova rather than Akira, at least while I'm stuck here? On the one hand, there were people who might recognize her by her real name rather than her game name, but the vice versa also held true. Regardless, her intuition said to go by Nova. Maybe it'd make it easier on her while she had to be in this world, too. And yeah, she was pretty sure there was no easy way out. Still, she began trying to access the menu. "Options…log out…character select…exit…friends list..." she muttered a variety of ingame functions, starting with those that had enabled her to exit the game in the past, and proceeding to those one would expect to find in a game, such as the world chat window, inventory, or the skills menu.</s>	<\|message\|>Character List Shokatsu YuAluvera — City Square "So that's how it's done, huh...?" There was a bit of relief in Yu's voice as he finally managed to pull up his character information, his gaze panning slightly to the side as the familiar menu popped up in his peripherals. Finagling with some invisible, possibly-extant hotbar had been unnecessary, it seemed; simply desiring for the relevant information to spring up had been sufficient. Of course, where one success was found, others followed suit, and the young man quickly cycled through half a dozen other menus—none of which seemed to be able to access the usual system configurations, of course—before he paused, an odd shadow slowly creeping over the skies above. Given how it had been broad daylight moments ago, the weather shifting spontaneously becoming overcast was by no means a good sign. As he closed the windows to give him back full control of his vision, Yu slowed to a halt as he—and more than a few others who had already begun to gather—turned their eyes skyward, only to see those clouds shift to a dark black. Any amount of hesitation in the air was promptly cut through as something immediately cut through the clouds from above, a gaping hole from which a single red light began falling—right onto the middle of the square. Those who were aware immediately began to move to make room for whatever was descending, and those who were not were promptly dragged away by the tides of people shifting to make room. Of course, no few number among them—Yu included—furtively drew their weapons in response. The fountain in the center of the square, it seemed, had been the unknown assailant's target, and its subsequent destruction as they landed threw stone dust and debris all over. When it had cleared, however, what was left behind in the rubble was a brown-haired man, his bronze-colored armor twisted and worn as he knelt upon the ruined earth. The pool of blood forming under him showed no such promising future, but what was more troublesome were his words soon after. "The gates... Have been opened..." Whether those words were meant as a warning or as a threat mattered little—at least, compared to the creatures flying out from the clouds unto the city. As far as Yu could tell, they seemed to be a mix of griffins, sphinxes, and harpies—none of which he was pleased to see—and were diving towards the city at an alarming rate. There only seemed to be a few dozen in total, thankfully enough, but that small number was still more than enough to lay siege to the city if left unchecked. As a massive sphinx swept down from the skies above to strike at him, though, Yu tumbled out of the way before looking back at the creature. Though he had no personal experience fighting with the weapon, it felt as if his body did. Hopefully that would actually mean something, given how it seemed to be moving around for seconds. With his blade at the ready, Yu took a deep breath and focused his gaze upon the monster before moving into a more proper battle stance, his sword pointed forward as he struck out at its' wings in hopes of equalizing the battlefield——!</s>
<\|description\|>Adiran 157 Male Adiran stands at a little over 10ft with a 45ft wingspan and 33ft from nose to tail. His body is covered in sharp, overlapping scales that are a mix of silver and white with icy blue eyes. A spiny ridge of many scales runs from his head all the way down his back in between two large horns that end at his tail where it flares out into a series of spikes at the tip. His body is fairly slender, focused more on dexterous maneuvers and flexibility than brute strength. While in human form Adiran has the same slender build that his draconic form has. He also retains the white coloration to his hair and icfy blue of his eyes. He has a pale complexion due to living most of his life in the Kingdom of Nihn and thankfully most scars that mar his skin are covered by the clothes and armor he wears. Clothing wise he wears mostly natural tones of dark leathers mixed with blacks and whites that are common in his homeland. Much of what he wears is lined with furs that can be removed when he travels southward. Across his back he has crossed sheaths for his two short swords as well as several daggers on his belt. Observant, ambitious, curious, charismatic, impatient Hailing from the frozen north in the mountains surrounding Jorgun, Adiran, and his family, have a particular affinity for frost and cold. He can breath a sheer cold that flash freezes most that it touches or sends jagged spikes of ice jutting out from the ground. While skilled in the air, when it comes to combat, Adiran prefers to force his enemies to the ground where he can lash out with teeth, claws, and spikes while using his slender build to avoid heftier blows. In human form he also retains his skill with frost magic, sending spikes of ice or freezing the air around his foes. When not utilizing his magic he prefers the quickness of dual-wielding daggers or short swords in rapid strikes. Adiran grew up high in the mountains in the Kingdom of Nihn nearby the capital city of Jorgun along with others of his kind. He spent a great deal of time with his parents and siblings, and learning how to survive in the snowy peaks. Since the peaks of the mountains were so far removed from the human civilizations he spent most of his time in his draconic form, as did the rest of his family, well outside the view of humans. Unfortunately, that meant that he had little to no experience actually utilizing his glamour and blending in with the humans, and his family had a general degree of distrust as it was the humans who ran magical creatures of the world away. Despite his family's general disinterest in mingling with humans, except for when necessary, Adiran found himself intrigued by the Kingdom and its people that lived below the mountains and the wealth that they were gathering. He wanted to learn about them as much as he possibly could. They were different from dragons and it interested him greatly. Once he reached adulthood and found himself free to go where he wished he spent some time in the capital city of Nihn learning everything that he could about humans, and somehow made it by without revealing himself despite the inexperience. He spent several years learning the common trades of the kingdom to a degree that pleased him before moving on to something else. Combat, in human form, was one of the few things that he had not been able to learn in his general exploration, but his zeal caught the attention of a retired soldier from the kingdom's army who agreed to mentor and train him, provided he showed potential. It took several more years in the tutelage of his mentor before he, and his mentor, felt that he had learned all there was that the older man could teach him. It was suggested he join the kingdom's army and fight for the King to expand Nihn, but Adiran wanted to travel and continue to learn, and he now had the capability to do so. He ventured to the Empire, the United Clans, and the Province of Kaelis in his travels. Kaelis in particular grabbed his attention do to the number of dragons that had set up settlements within the area, though the warmer temperatures didn't agree with him as much. He did spend a few years living within one of the settlements known as Whistle Hill where he served to help protect the city. Inevitably he got bored with living in one place and moved to continue his journey around the continent. He struggled with finding a purpose for his travels, beyond just seeing the world and learning about its people. While he enjoyed himself he wanted more from the world. He could hear the rumors of every nation gaining interest in the Province of Kaelis and when he learned of the concerns of the Council and the fact that Whistle Hill was potentially in danger he planned his return to the city to protect the friends that he made there.</s> <\|message\|>Sangu Sangu Outside Whistle Hill For most dragons, a long journey might be seen as an opportunity. It was one of those rare occasions they could shed their human disguise without fear, taking to the skies to stretch their wings and enjoy a moment away from prying human eyes. They'd soar up above the clouds, getting a lungful or two of untainted air and relishing the feeling of the wind catching in their fins, caressing their scales... ... at least, that's what Sangu imagined most dragons might do, but then again, Sangu wasn't most dragons. For him, flight was a slower, clumsier affair, and interspersed with rest-stops as his wings had a tendency to start hurting after a little. It was neither enjoyable nor practical. No, a good journey for Sangu would involve a lot more swimming, or at least slivering, and neither were particularly viable here, at least if he didn't want to be caught. So Sangu had settled for a compromise, something that was slower but still relatively comfortable, and had spent (most of) his journey in human form. Had he approached Whistle Hill from the air, he may have noticed sooner that something was amiss, but instead of seeing the light of the flames or even catching the scent of burning wood, the first sign that things were wrong was a sudden stroke of dizziness that overcame him while strolling down the road. He felt overcome with light-headedness, the air much warmer and more stagnant than it had been moments before. He had to stop and take a rest, even checking himself of any signs of illness or poison. Sangu was a cautious dragon, keeping his distance from others when in civilization and always alert when not, but even he was capable of falling victim to some malady every now and again. With just a vague look over, he couldn't detect any signs of injury or rash. Weirder still, when he felt his forehead, he noticed that he didn't seem to have a temperature, even though his brain felt like it was starting to bake within his skull. It could potentially be some kind of delayed reaction to the cuisine in the last town he passed through - that trout he had been served was at the forefront of his mind - but this seemed a bit extreme for a bit of food-poisoning. As he was considering what might be wrong, he finally began to note the smell of burning, and raised his head up to see the smoke forming above. Well, that can't be good, he thought. He glanced around to make sure no one was looking and, taking a few steps into heavier foliage, dropped his human disguise and took to the air. He saw the light in the distance, flames flickering from the smouldering wreck of what was once a village. Yes, that was definitely not good. His features settled into a wide reptilian approximation of a grimace as he soared a little closer, the searing pain in his mind only growing worse. This confirmed that he wasn't sick, but instead that his physical discomfort was a symptom of his own magic, the connection he had with the trees, flowers and all other forms of plant life in the vicinity. Toxins, flames, careless destruction of the environment... Every time something like that happened near him, he felt a fraction of that pain, both in his body and soul. He landed on the sturdiest tree he could find, wrapping his serpentine form around it as he took a moment to regain his strength and consider his next move. On one claw, he and fire weren't exactly compatible, and in his current condition, he wasn't sure how much help he could be. On the other, this settlement was likely Whistle Hill, his destination where supposedly many of his own kind flocked to in the guise of man. If his own people were down there and they were in trouble, he couldn't just leave them. Besides, the forest itself seemed to be crying out, begging for someone, anyone to help... Sangu sighed as he uncurled from the tree and took to the air once more. He flew slightly higher, hoping his grey scales would cause him to be difficult to see against the smoke. He wasn't exactly sure what he was dealing with right now, if there was an attack or this was some kind of natural disaster, if anyone needed saving or he was too late anyway. All he knew was that he wasn't about to rush in until he knew what was going on.</s> <\|message\|>Onthal Onthal The village of Whistle Hill The Dragon, currently in his Human guise, scowled at the three soldiers standing in front of him. With spear raised, Onthal made his intentions clear. While the Masque did forbid many things, it did allow for the deaths of Humans if necessary. And killing fellow magical creatures was definitely a necessary reason. Before the soldiers could reply to what Onthal said, another man came out from the tree line, brandishing twin blades. While he didn't say anything, Onthal was able to detect that the glamour was in use. The fellow magical creature nodded at Onthal, as he raised his weapons at the soldiers as well. "Are you two idiots?" the soldier laughed, "Get out of here. You have no business here. And this doesn't concern you." Before Onthal could say anything to the soldier, a mighty roar echoed over the village. Onthal immediately looked up, a look of confusion coming over his face at what he saw. A massive red Dragon flew over the village, which caused Onthal to wonder why any Dragon would risk the safety of Masque. After all, Whistle Hill was supposed to have nothing to do with Dragons. One of the soldiers alerted the others to the presence of the Dragon, as it breathed flame at the various buildings of the village. This confused Onthal further, as no Dragon would ever attack their own kind. But as the red Dragon landed a few meters from him, Onthal realized what was going on. As the mighty red Dragon roared again, it was now close enough to Onthal for him to notice it emitted great magic. The Dragon wasn't real. While Onthal had heard of illusion magic, he had never known anyone who had such advanced skill to recreate a whole Dragon. Onthal wanted to look around to see if he could spot the illusion caster, but stopped as he realized that he had to keep up the lie that he had a Dragon on his side. A nervous soldier raised his bow, aiming at Onthal, "So it's true! These heretics have Dragons working for them!" So they knew at least that this village had Humans and Dragons working together, but did they know about the glamour? While Onthal contemplated this, something caught his gaze from further down in the village. A blue and purple Dragon blew a stream of water at soldiers who were chasing several villagers, before retreating back into the sky. Onthal was glad that someone was rescuing the villagers while he and the others were attracting the attention of most of the soldiers. The soldier kept pointing his arrow at Onthal, "Let's just kill them." But before he could fire, a thick fog rolled in from farther into the village. Taking advantage of this, Onthal sprinted away from where he once stood. An arrow whizzed by him, impaling itself into a burning tree. Onthal followed the path of the arrow back to the archer. With a quick movement, Onthal lunged his spear into the soldier's neck. It sprayed blood as he collapsed to the ground. "Come brothers! We have the advantage!" Onthal stated while running through the fog. @Bright_Ops @QuinnWolfe @XxFellsingxX</s>	<\|message\|>Adiran W H I S T L E H I L L P R O V I N C E O F K A E L I S --- Of course these types of people wouldn't think just two of them were capable of taking out everyone who was present here. Maybe they couldn't in their human forms, but that only reinforced the scowl that was spreading across Adiran's face. He knew the purpose of the Masque but it would be so much easier to deal with these assholes if they could just tear them apart with teeth and claws. This definitely concerned him, in more ways than one, and he had friends in Whistle Hill. He hoped they were alright. The scowl was now firmly fixed on his face at the sheer arrogance, "I believe it's you and your troops who have no business here. We have every right to kill you where you stand." That train of thought, and anything else he may have said, were immediately cut off by the sound of a roar and flash of fire. He followed the other man's gaze to see the red dragon breath fire on...an already burning house. Breaking the Masque and attacking a city known for its population of magical creatures amongst the rest of them-that made no sense. He looked closer as it slammed loudly onto the ground nearby them and saw the glimmer of magic surrounding it. An illusion then, and a rather impressive one at that. Well, he wasn't about to let a good distraction go to waste, or give it away. Adiran resisted the urge to laugh at the stupidity of humans. It honestly surprised him every time how dense they were. No matter, it just made it easier to get rid of them quickly. Hopefully with the distraction of the illusory dragon along with some of the other dragons he could see slipping in and out helping protect the townsfolk. That certainly made him feel better and able to focus on the main threat in front of him. Which was currently the soldier pointing an arrow at the other glamoured individual next to him. His muscles tensed in preparation to lunge forward at the soldier but paused as the fog rolled in. He watched the other man sprint off and dodged around to the opposite side as the arrow whisked past. Despite not seeing it clearly he heard the sound of someone getting stabbed and took that as his que. He pulled on his innate magic and ran a quick hand across both his blades imbuing them with the freezing cold of his mountain home. The mist that bled off of them only adding to the eerie fog and strange glow of the burning city. He followed after the sound of the voice of the other magical creature, for once thankful of learning to hunt in less than ideal conditions while living in blizzard conditions for much of his life, as his ears caught the sound of someone to his left. A quick twist to the side prevented a blade from sinking past Adiran's armor, and a downward cross-swing sliced into the solider sending jagged shards of ice outwards from the wound. The soldier staggered back giving him the perfect opportunity to slam his other blade under his ribcage sending the solider to the ground in a crumpled heap. Two more soldiers appeared from the fog, no doubt drawn in by the sound of one of their own being cut down. Dealing with two people at once was not what he'd hoped, but he brought up his blades nonetheless.</s>
<\|description\|>Sepia Al Mond Age 17 Race Human Nationality Mistrali Physical Description Sepia is slightly average, though some might consider her tall while others a shortstack. At 5'7" and seventeen-year-old she is a bit taller than most girls she knows plenty who have a few inches on her. More distinct is her golden irises. Her long, well-kempt hair by comparison is rather inconsequential with shades of brown which is commonplace in pretty much every Kingdom in Remnant. A black hair-tie is the only accessory she pairs her hair with. Characterization If you ever talked to Sepia, you would probably never guess she was in line to inherit a major share in the Mistral Trading Company. Down to earth, kind, and decidedly unpretentious, Sepia rarely shows the silver spoon that is firmly tucked in her mouth. There are some quirks to come with her privilege, but generally such things are more difficult to notice. She is playful, however. Bold, too. She's not exactly much of a 'critical thinker' choosing to instead jump into the fray without a plan most of the time. If she wasn't so good at adapting to a situation on the spot, she'd probably be a terrible huntress. If she was a bit more aware of her own flaws beyond physical weakness she'd probably admit it, too. People around Sepia might find her a bit of a lovable idiot, the kind of person who removes the tension in a room with a quick-witted joke or well-needed pick-me-up. She's probably the first one to brew a cup of tea or tell a ridiculous story. This is not to say Sepia is without any sort of grit. When the stakes are high she gets serious and when the topic of her parents come up she tries to change the subject. While she loves her parents deeply, she doesn't particularly like them. The only person she wants to do right by is herself, or maybe the huntress who inspired her to be one. Backstory The Al Mond family is one of the richest families in Mistral, descending from early scavengers in Anima who discovered rare materials that became valuable through the need to fight Grimm. They would go on to create the Mistral Trading Company alongside the Cerise Family. They would serve as primary rivals to the Schnee and other families in neighboring kingdoms. It would be a legacy that Sepia would be more than aware of, given the persistence of her very demanding parents who would remind her of her responsibilities her whole life. But Sepia liked taking risks. From the very beginning it became clear she had no interest being some accountant or company head, looking instead to her idol, Fern Vermillion, for inspiration. This, of course, originated back to Sepia's childhood when a group of brigands kidnapped her during a festival in Mistral. While traumatic, Sepia was fortunate to have been saved by Fern, a storied Mistrali huntress; a happening that showed her not only how cool the lifestyle of a huntsman was but also how strong they were. Being a child and unable to do anything against her captors, a quiet resentment built in the young heiress and it was from that day she decided she would never be weak again. It would be the first time Sepia's resolve would become apparent to the dismay of her parents. The difficult part would become having her parents approve of her designs on her own life. An effort that Sepia never really felt mattered in the long run since there seemed to be a unending resistance to her ideas. Despite huntresses and huntsmen being seen as highly regarded figures, her mother in particular refused to see the point in such endeavors—or so she told Sepia when she was thirteen-years-old. Seven months later at a gala Sepia decided to do the one thing that her family couldn't ignore; she announced she would be attending Sanctum Academy. The only way she'd be able to control her own destiny would be to assert it in a way that her parents saw as a public spectacle. Her mother was furious with her, but in the end Sepia got her wish. After years of bold escapades and training at Sanctum Academy, her path seems pretty clear as she prepares for her initiation at Haven Academy. Semblance Sepia's Semblance is called Timesweeper, an ability that gives the appearance that the Mistrali woman sees attacks coming before the attacker even telegraphs them. In truth, it's a visual technique of which she is barely able to use effectively in that she adjusts her aura to hypercharge her perception of attacks directed towards her. In short, she sees things slower when activated. This semblance could be quite powerful if trained, but as it is the physical strain on overuse is very high. Who knows how it'll develop in ten or twenty years of use? For the time being it is merely a "holy crap" emergency release button and it'll have to do. Weapon & Fighting Style Elysium and Pandora are non-transformative revolvers crafted by a Mistrali weaponmaster during The Great War and the weapons of choice for Sepia in her role as a Huntress of Mistral. The revolvers are durable weapons that have a chamber for conventional bullets and dust cartridges, allowing to transmutate attacks into powerful attacks on their foes. In conjunction with her weapon, Sepia is a capable combatant. While she can strike enemies at close range with melee attacks from her revolvers she is able to also utilize a strong athletic core with her knees, thighs, and calves. Her athleticism is one of her finest points beyond how she is able to react quickly in the heat of the moment. If a Grimm or criminal corner her they can expect to deal with a flurry of kicks, knee strikes, and flips. Intangibles - Sepia attended combat school at Sanctum Academy and is well-versed in weapon fighting. - Impulsive, doesn't plan ahead which can be a disservice to a team environment. - Cocky and bold, doesn't understand boundaries let alone what her privileges have made her ignorant of. - The first to apologize. Has unrelenting kindness albeit a distinct obliviousness. - Has unlocked her aura and semblance, but is not particularly skilled with it.</s> <\|message\|>Silme Fenerus, or Sil for short "Wow, they really let that guy in?" "Must be because of Reine?" "Even still, how did they manage to convince the headmaster to take in a common thug like that." "Not even born in Mistral, though he'd fit right in with the gangs like all the othe-" "Ssssh, he's looking this way." Silme walks into the quad area with an irritable expression, bag slung over his shoulder as glares towards the gossiping upperclassmen that he'd heard talking about him. He had expected it from kids in his class, doing his best to not let his annoyance at their muttering whispers show on his face. It had been like this the whole way up(so much so he'd taken to jogging up the whole thing in order to get away from the chatter), though luckily there was another celebrity to take the attention off him in the class. Some rich heiress or something whose biggest accomplishment as far as he was aware of was getting kidnapped as a kid. Reine had talked about it when mentioning a colleague of theirs, but he wasn't that interested in an aspiring damsel in distress. She'll probably flunk out and go back to sucking on her silver spoon before the year is out. Silme sapres a quick glance in the rich girl's direction but doesn't really pay her much mind as he goes back to grumbling under his breath, standing tall even under the weight of more than a few suspicious stares. As long as I don't have to deal with her. The last thing I need to tell Reine is I flunked out of this school because some princess couldn't carry her weight. Taking a moment to look behind him, Silme noted a familiar face amongst the crowd, leaping about without a care as if he was getting high off the air. "Well, didn't expect to see you here gear-head."The young faunus just gives a nod of his head, his face and voice remaining neutral even if the distraction of a faint acquaintance helped to take his mind(and temper) off of the rumor mill forming around him. "Hope your gear manages to hold up better for the test than it does when I use it." @Eisenhorn</s> <\|message\|>Bren Adalwolf --- H A V E N A C A D E M Y E N T R A N C E K I N G D O M O F M I S T R A L --- It seemed like there were an endless number of stairs that led up to Haven Academy. Not that it really mattered all that much to Bren, the monotony of steps let his mind calm down a bit as the nerves he hid so well began to rear their ugly heads. He was further away from home and his parents than he'd ever been in his entire life, but this was what he wanted. He had argued with his parents repeatedly to convince them to let him go someplace other than Atlas Academy, and he wasn't about to let cold feet stop him from doing what he loved. A quick mental shake was all he really needed to push those emotions back down and focus more firmly on his surroundings. He felt a bump against his side and let himself glance down at the spectral canine that was currently walking up the stairs next to him. A collection of purple and black energy that bled of in small wisps around the form of one third of his semblance in the shape of a large wolf-like entity. This particular spirit being the first of the three that he summoned while training with his mother, and was the most relaxed of the three, always calmed his nerves even further than he could on his own. Something about it reminded him of home and that was enough to completely put his mind at ease. He gave the spirit a pat on its, mostly, incorporeal form before continuing on. Hopefully he'd be allowed to keep the spirit present, the instructors in Atlas had never really had much of an issue with it, but he didn't know what kind of rules were present at Haven. There were plenty of people, his own age and older, heading up the stairs and he couldn't help letting his gaze wander to try and get an idea of the types of individuals he may end up on the same team with. Everyone had their weapons and the upperclassmen were clear to see as they walked with a bit more confidence than the rest of the group. He could overhear some of the conversation, something about a person named Reine which was not a name he recognized; probably some famous Mistrali hunter if he had to guess. Eh, if it's important I'll hear about it later. He was at Haven to learn after all. The quad was much more open than the stairs and that was something Bren greatly appreciated. While he had no problem being around people it made his skin crawl to be packed in with so many at once without much personal space. Not many people caught his attention has he stepped up the final few steps, though he could see a red-headed young man who appeared to be in several places at once with how quickly he was moving as well as a silver haired individual who looked more than a little pissed off. He made a quick mental note to keep his distance on that one...last thing I need is a fight on my first day at Haven. He'd also heard mention of someone who was from a wealthy Mistrali family, he wasn't sure if it was someone his family had dealings with as they were more on the technological side of things, but he supposed there was always the possibility. A quick sweep of his eyes allowed him to find a space by a bench somewhat away from everyone else where he could post up and continue to people watch to his heart's content. He found it was the easiest way to get an idea of who he would be dealing with, especially if someone didn't know they were being watched. He let himself sink down onto the bench, maybe the stairs had taken a little more effort than he would've liked, and snapped his fingers to command his spirit to post up underneath his legs. He had no intention of letting anything go awry, having just one of his spirits present took very little effort anymore, but it wasn't worth the risk. However, he simply decided to watch and wait to see what he could figure out about the unfamiliar space.</s>	<\|message\|>Sepia Al Mond Location: Haven Academy, Mistral --- Sepia Al Mond hadn't had so much attention on her in months, not since the regional tournament at Sanctum Academy. She had done well enough in that tournament, but she hadn't been a crown victor or anything. A girl from Kuchinashi's combat school had bested her in the second round. People had told her it had been an embarrassing defeat but she had just laughed it off. By the four maidens, she laughed it off now. The brown-haired heiress, or she supposed soon to be ex-heiress, felt some degree of uncomfortable. It was always one or two ways people looked at her—walking on eggshells around her or being in resplendent awe that they could breathe the same air as her. Well, actually, there was a third. It became clear when the people who had flocked around her, some of them upperclassmen, mentioned how a faunus was giving her the stare of death. She didn't hear it much, though; the only thing she could hear was noise. Should she have worn a cloak? or maybe a mask. Not having people recognize her would have been a net benefit, but taking punches of all kinds was kind of the job she had signed up for. While she was stressed by the crowd, she knew she had to keep that under wraps. She wasn't going to make it look like she was weak. The goal was to use Haven Academy as a stepping stone for her career as a huntress and to not ever feel like that again, so a bunch of people hating her or fake-liking her wasn't going to throw her off her feet! "Geez, guys." She managed, "It's not a big deal." Whatever they had said wasn't. The big deal was everyone getting a chance to become real deal apprentice huntsman and huntresses. After all, this was the academy that built up living legends like Fern Vermillion. Someday Sepia would be able to be as confident and strong like her idol. Someday soon. As her eyes averted from the crowd and on the grand hall she could feel an excitement build in her stomach. In a few minutes, the door to being a Grimm exterminator and protector of justice would be open and her calling in life would be all in her grasp! She could barely hold her excitement inside as a wide, soft smile formed on her face as she looked onward as her right hand tightened on the handle of her suitcase. She was going to pass whatever initiation they threw at her. There was no way she wouldn't! To be a huntress of Mistral... there was no other option.</s>
<\|description\|>Silme Fenerus, or Sil for short Age 18 Race Faunus(Timber Wolf) Nationality Atlesian Physical Description Sil is built like a brick wall. A good-looking wall, for sure, but a wall nonetheless. A mixture of his overabundant aura and dedicated training has made the 6'5 Faunus a rather beefed-up individual, which has a somewhat disconcerting disconnect from how soft his features tend to look. Not quite so much that he looks feminine, but with his long hair, thick lashes, and more delicate features, most would expect a much sleeker individual. Granted, this disconnect becomes a little less pronounced when he opens his mouth, showing off a sizable bear of wolfish canines that, along with his tail, stand as the pronouncement of his faunus heritage. As far as clothing goes, Silme dresses practically on missions and tends to throw whatever he can find on when he isn't expected to look nice. His silver-white hair is often tied up in either a ponytail or a braid to keep it out of the way, though why he doesn't just cut it is a question he gets often and never answers. Characterization Silme is defined by two things: a desire for connection and an almost crippling lack of trust in anyone around him. When he was younger, you could hardly ever find a kid more bright-eyed and willing to help those around them, using his natural talents to help around the mine where his parents worked, greeting the guards that kept the Grimm out(even if it usually only got him cold looks and whispered insults), and trying his best to be friends with everyone he could. However, after the accident that took his parents away from him, and the fallout that followed it, he become much more reserved. He talked with others but, even when it came to his new guardian he was afraid to open up or make connections with others. And as he grew up, the small little insults and digs that many in Mistral made his way soon caused him to grow as distrustful of the whole lot of them as they surely were of him. He tries to not let it show or act on the growing distaste and anger he feels but sometimes the things he sees or has to put up with proves too much for him to simply stand back, something that causes the young man no small amount of trouble in life. Backstory Silme grew up in essentially a shanty town, outside one of the many dust mines run by the SDC. A place for those unable to get a home in the city of Mantle, they at least had the benefits of military guards to keep them safe from the Grimm that, needless to say, often found themselves drawn to such places. A lot of the workers liked to whisper how if it weren't for the Grimm, the guards would likely treat them even worse they usually did, rather than just being casually indifferent to their needs. However, for a young Silme, he just found everything to be the start of a new adventure. A born rapscallion that, thanks to being born with awakened Aura, proved to be a lot for most of the adults in the town to handle when he felt up to mischief. Luckily for all, he rarely ever caused much more than the occasional prank and slip up, often using his gifts to help out around the mines where ever he could, and even helping to spook off the occasional Grimm from time to time that managed to sneak back the guards. It was far from an easy life, but it was better than some other days. The best days being when his father's old friend, now a Huntsman of Mistral having managed to leave Atlas when they were kids, would come around to tell him stories about the outside world. One day, he wished that he'd be able to go out and see the world just like her. And then one day, he would get his wish. The accident was sudden and devastating, as the gravity dust that this area was known for suddenly reacted and caused the entire area to implode on itself. All that was left afterward was a hyper-condensed orb of rock within a mile-wide crater. Sil would have found himself among those dead if not for being babysat by his father's huntsman friend, Reine. The town, however, was gone. As were most of the people. But in the days that followed, the only new the young man ever saw was on the rise in gravity dust prices, and talk about the lives of the guards who managed the station. If the miners were mentioned at all, it was as a statistic, and barely given much focus at all. More than anything else that followed, this is what caused Silme to grow cold and dispassionate to humans. The fact that hundreds of innocents had died. . . and none of them seemed to care. They called it an accident, a tragedy, a horrible loss of life, but spoke about it in the same tone one would speak about a particularly nasty day of work. There was no empathy, no outrage from anyone who wasn't a faunus. Just a cold statement of fact and a number. Reine would take him under their wing, raising them in mistral to the best of their ability, but there was always a distance between them, even as they taught him how to be a Huntsman shortly after he asked. He started getting into more fights, and got a reputation in school for being willing and able to put even some of the notirous criminal elements in the city through walls, though that often came with it's own complications. When he finally was accepted into the academy, it was on a probationary measure that he behave, beign told excessively that he was only allowed this chance because of Reine's reputation, and that if he were to act out, they both would suffer consequences. Semblance Restraint: Silme is a rare type in the world of Remnant, born with an awakened semblance and thus, having lived with it all of his life, as well as being gifted with an insane amount of aura to accommodate the nature of his semblance. A side effect of this abundance of life energy is Silme growing quickly and heartily, despite growing up in less than favorable conditions for most of his early life and being near superhumanly strong thanks to the use of innate Aura enhancement. As for the semblance itself, it technically serves as a hindrance rather than a boon he can actively control, a set of three blocks on his aura. By removing these locks through reaching for specific emotional triggers, he can drastically increase his combat performance by flooding his body with more and more aura. As each chain is broken, Silme gets noticeably faster, stronger, and exudes an ever-increasing amount of aura, like a blazing silver flame. The first of the chains, Lædingr, is the easiest to unlock by tapping into a moment of memory of great joy or happiness. Dromi, the second chain, requires a moment of great grief or regret to be unleashed, often coming with a much more aggressive and berserk fighting style as the rush of energy starts to mess with his head. Silme has never found the trigger to unlock the third chain, only knowing it exists through the gut instinct that there is likely more of his ability he could tap into. Whether or not he should, however, is another question entirely. The blocks on his aura are in place for a reason, and breaking them often leads to no small level of exhaustion, pain, and damage to his body due to the sheer strain of harnessing that much power and withstanding the immense forces he exerts as he fights. With training, he has managed to break and lock the first chain at will . . . almost. It's not exact, but he has enough control to release it in quick bursts to minimize the drain on himself, but even that can be extremely taxing. Once the second, and presumably third, chains are broken, then it will continue to burn until his body fails him and he can't keep it up anymore Weapon & Fighting Style As of now. . . Silme doesn't use a proper weapon. He has tried to train with a good number of them, but he's found all of them to be a bit awkward to hold and, more importantly, unable to stand up to the force of his blows once he starts using his semblance. As such, he has learned to make use of the stores of Aura he was gifted with, focusing almost entirely on improving his aura-enhanced CQC skills. In particular, he likes to take advantage of his impressive strength to grapple his foes into submission though he also can throw out some devastating blows with just some straightforward punches, jabs, and kicks. When it comes to using Dust, however, Silme has a bit of an affinity for the use of more archaic Dust arts, weaving it into his clothes to allow him to manipulate it on the fly. However, he only has small amounts of the material since he tries to source his supplies from places that don't work with the Schnee Dust Company if hec an, and is often left with lower quality products. As such, while he has the talent for the art, he has precious few chances to truly practice it. Intangibles Silme is a pretty avid reader and book learner, taking every chance he can to study up on subjects that interest him, and taking extensive notes on them. In particular, he has an interest in the study of Dust, its production and refinement cycle, and ways to improve the lives of the workers who risk everything just so the nations of the world can keep ticking. A very active advocate for Faunus rights, which has wonhim little in the way of friends amongst the people of Mistral. Silme's tail is often a very good indicator of whatever he's truly feeling, no matter what he actual says or emotes outwardly. It is the one part of his posture that he can't properly control, and it irritates him when it gets brought up. Having been trained by a Hunstman along with the typical curriculum expected of a Huntsman trainee, Silme is very much a well-trained combatant, even with his lack of a weapon.</s> <\|message\|>Midori Yoake Location: Haven Academy Mentions: @PrankFox "Still excited even after that doomsday speech we just got huh?" "Eh? Oh, yes of course! Sure it should be concerning, but anyone who planned to take this seriously should have been as ready as they could be already! If a little warning like that spooked them, well, I guess they weren't going to be making it far either way. I'm not gonna worry though personally, right now it should be fairly easy. Go to the hotel, and wait for things to kick off proper. Might do some maintenance while I wait, I'll have to find something to do." Midori was caught mid stride, figuratively speaking, and practically rebounded off nothing to shift his focus on the one who'd made the remark to begin with. Tall, sturdy, brilliantly red hair and impressively blue eyes. Well dressed too, and Midori had to look up, as usual, to meet the boys gaze. He offered a warm smile as he finished rambling, however briefly, and extended his hand as he picked up from where he left off on his ramblings. "Right, introductions, can't forget those! Midori Yoake, it's a pleasure to meet you! You definitely seem like you were all but built for this, I can imagine you'll go through the initiation with flying colors, you and plenty of the other people I've seen around already as well. I'm hoping anyone who sticks around is serious about this though, I don't want to see anyone getting buried, I mean who does right? But I'm hoping the scare speech was just that, to spook those who aren't ready or prepared for this, well, as ready or prepared as we can be given how little information there is floating around out there! We should probably get going though, don't want to be late, right? Can chat on the way!" It seemed, better or worse, Midori had decided he would be walking with this new friend to the hotel, after all, most of the folks seemed off put by his outgoing approaches. Someone approaching him first that didn't already at least know him was a pleasant change of pace, and it would no doubt become apparent the energetic young man loved to chatter.</s> <\|message\|>Bren Adalwolf --- H A V E N A C A D E M Y T O T H E C E L E S T I A L S W A N K I N G D O M O F M I S T R A L --- There was a brief flicker of surprise and amusement across Bren's face as he was assaulted with a sudden deluge of chatter from the other student. He had heard him talking at a rapid speed to other people, but he had assumed that maybe they were familiar with each other. Apparently it was just how he talked. It took him a moment to piece together the individual topics that were in the rush of words. "Hard to tell with a Headmaster who has the most universally impassive face in the country what the real intention is. You'd think someone would hear about it if students are dying during the initiation." He did agree that this would probably be the easiest part of the initiation. All they had to do was sit and wait for the assistant to come and get them. There was the possibility that there would be something more to this part, but he could only guess, or wait and see. He reached out and shook the other boy's, Midori as he very quickly learned, hand before having to focus all his attention on his bespectacled companion. "Bren Adalwolf. Pleasure to meet you as well." He was much more used to either being by himself, or being in more serious company given the the combat school in Atlas, so this was a bit more than he was planning on handling. "Hopefully not, but the Headmaster didn't really seem like one for jokes." If someone did die that would reflect poorly on the school in his opinion. Clearly Midori seemed intent on continuing this conversation on the way to the hotel. He followed after him after a pause and a faint sigh. What had he gotten himself into. Still he didn't want to be rude so he matched pace with Midori, it'd be useful to get to know other people since he might end up being paired with them for the remainder of his time at Haven. If he was trapped in conversation he'd make the best of it. "So what's your specialty then? You mentioned maintenance so I assume mechanics of some kind?" Maybe if he could find a topic that just set Midori off on a tangent he wouldn't have to do much talking himself.</s>	<\|message\|>Silme Fenerus, or Sil for short "Well she seems nice. . . " Silme mutters from his seat amongst the crowd of prospective students, finding the whole thing to be a bit over-done. This wasn't some battle royale bloodbath, this was an academy testing ground, they weren't going to intentionally try to get these students hurt to that degree, so it felt like a pretty cheap scare tactic on the part of the school. Still, it made it clear that they might try to pull something at this hotel, so Silme flipped open his Scroll to register a few vids to help him keep awake just in case. He'd spent too long training just to get outed in his sleep. As the crowd dispersed and started heading towards the fancy residence, the faunus spotted Midori off in the distance chatting with some other guy. For a moment, he considered walking over to say hey, but after catching some sideways glances from both the younger and older students milling about, decided that he should keep to his own advice. Best that the gearhead gets some more socially acceptable friendships rather than just being stuck with Silme and his thug stigma. Shoving the pamphlet into his pocket, he couldn't help the slight flick of irritation that his tail made as began his walk down the long winding set of stairs. While he hadn't minded too much on the way yup, knowing that he'd come all this way only to stick around for a 5-minute lecture definitely soured his mood a little.</s>
<\|description\|>Dune Hatchet Age 18 Race Faunus (Grey Wolf) Nationality Mistrali Physical Description Dune isn't a particularly outstanding individual, at least among the Faunus. She possesses a head of partially-unkempt, dim gray hair which she is content to leave where it lies, not bothering to style it in any particular fashion. This dark silvery hair contrasts the fairness of her skin and highlights the light golden hue of her eyes, which seem especially watchful. These features combined with the mature mien she expresses can make her seem as though she leans toward the more sober side - which isn't wrong. When it comes to physique, Dune also isn't unusual in any outstanding regard, aside from her androgynous appearance, if one were to count that. She boasts some muscle definition from training, but she isn't strapped. She does, however, possess a more unique physical feature in a slim, thick-furred canid tail with the same coloration as her hair, though with a darker gray tip. She prefers to keep a wardrobe of mostly darker colors, and prefers comfort and/or function over fashion - though she does regularly wear a clean, black Bolero hat which once belonged to her mother. Characterization Sedate is likely the most apt way to describe Dune in one word. Her sober mood is the forwardmost detail of her personality, most who've met her would say. Though that's not to say she's a killjoy - she is open to venturesome activities, but her hesitance to get close to others makes her a tad bit awkward when it comes to pursuing such things. Her stolidity of sorts is, however, a steadfast effigy for others to rely on in intense situations. Dune is seemingly very strong-willed - even if she takes no opportunity to show it day to day, she has stalwart nerves. Were she more communicative, this resolute nature would make her a very good leader - though as is, her teamwork skills are lacking. Backstory Dune's upbringing was a bit of an unusual one. She was born the only child to two wealthy Mistrali. Arylide and Fallow Hatchet were wed shareholders of a respectable stock in the Mistral Mining Company, and were active members in one of the leading institutions of Grimm field-study. Due to the latter of these facts, they duo took it upon themselves to reside amongst one of the small villages situated in the lands west of Mistral. They bolstered the village against the Grimm with their wealth, allowing them to live there more comfortably than one may expect. It was only a year or so that they'd live in the village before Fallow discovered her enceintity. There was a short period of worry for them about raising their child in such a dangerous area when all of Mistral was available to them, but ultimately they decided it was safe enough. Which was true enough - mostly. Although the village was well defended for quite a time, it was in Dune's pre-teen years that their confidence proved to be in vain. The village was sieged by a group of Grimm that managed to catch a gap in its defenses, wreaking absolutely destruction on the people. It was a horror of an attack for the village goers, but for Dune the destruction around her was almost in slow motion - for one of the first attacks of the Grimm decimated her home and trapped the whole family inside. It was in desperation that Dune tried to free her parents from the flaming ruin of the house, trying to persevere against the heat and blaze of the destruction. Her efforts were in vain though and she was eventually rescued herself from the inferno by her emerging semblance, though not without physical and emotional scars of her own - for the flames scarred her body and the sudden loss of her parents scarred her mind. It took her quite a time to recover from the physical trauma - her body eventually returning to "normal" through the use of grafts, and a robotic prosthetic for her right arm - but the mental trauma shaped her personality to the current day. After that day she was less responsive - and certainly less outgoing. It even took her a time to begin talking to her grandmother, who she began to live with in Mistral. Even though she became a solemn and distant girl - she still had aspirations. One of which was to destroy the Grimm to achieve a form of justice for her family. It wouldn't bring them back, nothing would - but she didn't know how else to cope. And so from a young age, she pled a fealty to the destruction of the Grimm. Her grandmother was concerned, but couldn't stop the girl from getting what she wanted, and Dune eventually reached the point where she could finally take the initiation exam. Semblance Scatter Dune's semblance is one that, although not well-exercised, is still very useful for escaping problematic scenarios and enabling more devastating attacks. Scatter allows Dune to warp anything her aura runs through in a special manner, rupturing it into billions of tiny, bright particles for a very brief period before reforming it. Her articulation of her Semblance isn't very progressed, so she has only managed to utilize it when directing it at herself and materials on her person. She has, however, learned how to move the particles since she's started trying to train it. Scatter becomes more and more taxing with successive activations. Weapon & Fighting Style Dune's weapon * has yet to be named, but is nonetheless a formidable tool. Upon donning the thick yet lightweight gauntlet, the set of dormant coils wrapped around it come to life as Dune's Aura surges through them, causing them to swell into two long and flexible, yet exceptionally durable, tendrils. The tendrils appear to be very much completely prehensile and can extend quite a distance, allowing them serviceable reach with the slim blades that grace each tip. The gauntlet is capable of taking in dust crystals - usually gravity dust, to allow the tendrils to contend with the strength of the Grimm - which it can also expel in a close-range, medium-strength blast through a disc situated on the palm. Dune uses the physical strength and agility of her tendril weapon to outmaneuver and sometimes match the strength of the Grimm. Their reach and general girth of utility make them a particularly useful weapon offensively and defensively, however they are rather risky compared to true ranged weapons, as she still has to get somewhat close - only being able to outrange the Grimm by a small margin, in most cases. Intangibles Dune is both fortunate and not in the sense that her past has both strengthened and weakened her. After the incident when she was younger, her left eye was replaced by a robotic prosthetic eye, and her right arm in a similar manner - giving her a tokenbag of advantages over her colleagues. However, she is clearly not a team player, yet - and she is reluctant to retreat even if those around her are unwilling to help her against slim odds. This is not to say she isn't a capable strategist - she is fairly quick-witted in a battle, but taking others into account isn't hardwired into her brain.</s> <\|message\|>Bren Adalwolf --- H A V E N A C A D E M Y E N T R A N C E K I N G D O M O F M I S T R A L --- It seemed like there were an endless number of stairs that led up to Haven Academy. Not that it really mattered all that much to Bren, the monotony of steps let his mind calm down a bit as the nerves he hid so well began to rear their ugly heads. He was further away from home and his parents than he'd ever been in his entire life, but this was what he wanted. He had argued with his parents repeatedly to convince them to let him go someplace other than Atlas Academy, and he wasn't about to let cold feet stop him from doing what he loved. A quick mental shake was all he really needed to push those emotions back down and focus more firmly on his surroundings. He felt a bump against his side and let himself glance down at the spectral canine that was currently walking up the stairs next to him. A collection of purple and black energy that bled of in small wisps around the form of one third of his semblance in the shape of a large wolf-like entity. This particular spirit being the first of the three that he summoned while training with his mother, and was the most relaxed of the three, always calmed his nerves even further than he could on his own. Something about it reminded him of home and that was enough to completely put his mind at ease. He gave the spirit a pat on its, mostly, incorporeal form before continuing on. Hopefully he'd be allowed to keep the spirit present, the instructors in Atlas had never really had much of an issue with it, but he didn't know what kind of rules were present at Haven. There were plenty of people, his own age and older, heading up the stairs and he couldn't help letting his gaze wander to try and get an idea of the types of individuals he may end up on the same team with. Everyone had their weapons and the upperclassmen were clear to see as they walked with a bit more confidence than the rest of the group. He could overhear some of the conversation, something about a person named Reine which was not a name he recognized; probably some famous Mistrali hunter if he had to guess. Eh, if it's important I'll hear about it later. He was at Haven to learn after all. The quad was much more open than the stairs and that was something Bren greatly appreciated. While he had no problem being around people it made his skin crawl to be packed in with so many at once without much personal space. Not many people caught his attention has he stepped up the final few steps, though he could see a red-headed young man who appeared to be in several places at once with how quickly he was moving as well as a silver haired individual who looked more than a little pissed off. He made a quick mental note to keep his distance on that one...last thing I need is a fight on my first day at Haven. He'd also heard mention of someone who was from a wealthy Mistrali family, he wasn't sure if it was someone his family had dealings with as they were more on the technological side of things, but he supposed there was always the possibility. A quick sweep of his eyes allowed him to find a space by a bench somewhat away from everyone else where he could post up and continue to people watch to his heart's content. He found it was the easiest way to get an idea of who he would be dealing with, especially if someone didn't know they were being watched. He let himself sink down onto the bench, maybe the stairs had taken a little more effort than he would've liked, and snapped his fingers to command his spirit to post up underneath his legs. He had no intention of letting anything go awry, having just one of his spirits present took very little effort anymore, but it wasn't worth the risk. However, he simply decided to watch and wait to see what he could figure out about the unfamiliar space.</s> <\|message\|>Sepia Al Mond Location: Haven Academy, Mistral --- Sepia Al Mond hadn't had so much attention on her in months, not since the regional tournament at Sanctum Academy. She had done well enough in that tournament, but she hadn't been a crown victor or anything. A girl from Kuchinashi's combat school had bested her in the second round. People had told her it had been an embarrassing defeat but she had just laughed it off. By the four maidens, she laughed it off now. The brown-haired heiress, or she supposed soon to be ex-heiress, felt some degree of uncomfortable. It was always one or two ways people looked at her—walking on eggshells around her or being in resplendent awe that they could breathe the same air as her. Well, actually, there was a third. It became clear when the people who had flocked around her, some of them upperclassmen, mentioned how a faunus was giving her the stare of death. She didn't hear it much, though; the only thing she could hear was noise. Should she have worn a cloak? or maybe a mask. Not having people recognize her would have been a net benefit, but taking punches of all kinds was kind of the job she had signed up for. While she was stressed by the crowd, she knew she had to keep that under wraps. She wasn't going to make it look like she was weak. The goal was to use Haven Academy as a stepping stone for her career as a huntress and to not ever feel like that again, so a bunch of people hating her or fake-liking her wasn't going to throw her off her feet! "Geez, guys." She managed, "It's not a big deal." Whatever they had said wasn't. The big deal was everyone getting a chance to become real deal apprentice huntsman and huntresses. After all, this was the academy that built up living legends like Fern Vermillion. Someday Sepia would be able to be as confident and strong like her idol. Someday soon. As her eyes averted from the crowd and on the grand hall she could feel an excitement build in her stomach. In a few minutes, the door to being a Grimm exterminator and protector of justice would be open and her calling in life would be all in her grasp! She could barely hold her excitement inside as a wide, soft smile formed on her face as she looked onward as her right hand tightened on the handle of her suitcase. She was going to pass whatever initiation they threw at her. There was no way she wouldn't! To be a huntress of Mistral... there was no other option.</s>	<\|message\|>Dune Hatchet DuneMentions: None Location: Haven Academy --- --- Today was finally the day. The journey to becoming a huntress was, in truth, long underway for Dune - but today was the day it finally felt like the ship would leave the port. With every step she ascended she felt the excitement building up within her - but she knew she had to stem the flow of emotions within her that would surely be felt by everyone else as well. Even though the events that brought her here had been unfavorable, to say the least, she couldn't help but admit to herself that the aspects of becoming a huntress found a place in her heart that stirred more than the desire for vengeance. The training so far, although basic, just made her feel stronger. The weapons fed her curiosity. The trek to her true goal had only just begun, but it had already helped to make her feel something. But she knew it would only be temporary until she did finally achieve what she started this journey to achieve. But for now, as she ascended towards the assembly area of Mistral up the seemingly endless stairs, that goal was a far ways away. Dune shook away her thoughts and spared a few glances to the people around her. She wondered how many of these prospective students would really make it as huntsmen and huntresses. It was hard to judge just off of idle demeanor, but there were a few who seemed pretty composed. Others.. not so much. She wasn't concerned about her own success - success was the only choice for her. She simply had no other options. Eventually she reached the peak of the stairs, which opened into a wide, populated plateau upon which rested the renowned Haven Academy. It was the visage of this academy in the distance that had helped spur her to train harder and harder each day as this moment came closer and closer. While she wasn't entirely fond of crowds, hopefully she could manage to limit the number of people surrounding her - but even if she couldn't, that wouldn't dissuade her from taking in this momentous occasion. She let an idle hand move to feel the leathery case that was clasped to the back of her waist. Of course it would still be there, but just feeling that her weapon was nearby comforted her. Dune closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she stood at the top of the steps, the soft breeze brushing her tail as she took in the mountainous air as if for the first time, despite having lived there for years. Her eyes opened again and scanned the area for somewhere for her to await the assembly's commencement soon. She wandered around for a short time before finding a tree to post up against, leaning to it and letting her eyes wander from underneath the coverage of her sleek black bolero hat.</s>
<\|description\|>Clive T. Davidson Age: 33 Appearance: Clive stands at just under 6'0 with a medium build and broad, angular face. A prominent brow ridge frames tired, but piercing eyes that seem to read your soul if you stare too long. He has a tendency to wear jackets and long pants as often as is feasible if the weather permits in order to conceal equipment on his person wherever he goes. Concept: Disgraced Texas Ranger who's currently wanted for the murder of a suspect in his custody and his partner. What none of his peers know is that what he killed was actually the thing that ate them, but of course he couldn't tell them that. He's already a wanted murderer and a cop killer to boot. Adding "believes in werewolves" to his case file would do him no favors. Clive has traveled the country since that night on a one man crusade to find everything that goes bump in the night and shoot it until it stops moving. Recently, he came to the conclusion that he's reached the peak of what he can do alone and has been looking for a team he can work with. Powers/Skills: Clive is just as human as everyone else. No special powers, no seer signs, no dip in the Styx for him. He just knows a lot about a lot of different beasties and he's a clever son of a gun. His experience with investigation in a law enforcement setting transitioned very well into investigating supernatural activity (not to mention his firearms training) and he's grown to be very resourceful, using any and all means at his disposal to level the playing field against creatures of the night. His favorite tool is his smooth bore, pump action shotgun and his handmade shotgun shells, but he also uses a variety of hobo-tier tactics and equipment. Clive is not above sticking an iron shiv into a fey folk's neck. He also plays a mean hand of poker and is worryingly good with a hatchet. Character Wants: To expand his monster hunting knowledge and perhaps a group to help in his endeavors. Also, a bed. He's gotten more than a little tired of sleeping in his car. Writer Wants: Looking to participate in an active roleplay with a diverse cast of characters. I also want Clive to grow as a person and make him really work at being a team player in a number of ways such as accepting that his way isn't always the best way, relying on others, etc as well as sharing everything he knows about committing war crimes against monsters.</s> <\|message\|>Junia Harris She dreamed of lights. Shimmering, glowing lights that never faded and never dimmed. They shown up from beneath the water, like a lighthouse in reverse, guiding her ever deeper. There were hints, down there, of a city. A city with spires that seemed to ripple as the water flowed through them. A city with streets that turned ever inwards. A city with some serious electric bills ... Junia stared at the ceiling. She needed less sleep these days, but what she got was infected by those images. They didn't bother her at all, and that fact bothered her. She should be worried. But there was nothing sinister about the dreams. They just were. The city felt like it had waited for eons, it could wait a few more. Her bladder, however, was far less patient. She shoved the comforter aside, which earned her a displeased look from a cat, and forged her way to the bathroom. Her little duplex wasn't much, but some thoughtful soul had made sure it had a spacious bathroom with a full soaker tub. That - and its convenient location not far from the Sunday Group headquarters - more than made the rent worth it. Morning ablutions taken care of, she wandered towards the kitchen, traveling only as fast as the cats around her ankles would allow. "You two would get fed a lot faster if you stopped trying to trip mommy, you know." Ellsie, as always, was imperious. She stayed just out of reach, her profile stately, as she loudly proclaimed her hunger. Dewey - dear sweet, stupid Dewey - tried to brush against her legs, tripped over his own paws, and tumbled onto his fuzzy behind. She'd found both as strays, and she was becoming increasingly convinced that Dewey was part ferret. She fed them both from the same tuna can, then punched the button on the coffee maker. Breakfast would be miso soup again. Well, after she cleared the papers off the kitchen table. It was just a little too convenient sometimes. But the dashi was already bubbling before she even halfway finished sorting, and so it was breakfast in the living room again. After that, it was time to face the mirror. The lines on her neck had gotten no darker, thank God. She'd spent a week with blurry vision when the nictitating membrane showed up, but that would still be better than explaining gill slits to the hairdresser. Still, better to wear a light scarf. A dress, a cardigan, and the uniform was complete. She was almost close enough to work that she could walk, but her old Subaru still had boxes and boxes of paperwork that really did need to be accessioned. No reason for anymore delays. Time for work. --- The building draped itself on the slope. It was made of the same yellow-ish brick as every other small office complex on this half of the city. Beside it was an old grocery store converted into a warehouse, and on the other side was an old warehouse converted into a food co-op. The circle of life. Naturally, the parking lot was on the steepest part of the slope. There was a railing at the bottom in case of a failed parking brake. Thankfully the Subaru never budged. Once again she decided against unloading the boxes. The sign out front listed a half-dozen organizations with well-meaning, nonsensical names. All of them were just slightly true. The "Council for Stress-Related Disorders" could certainly refer to the Sunday Group, given how many members developed PTSD. The "District Library Assistance Board" was her baby; grants went from the state to the local libraries through D-LAB. No one needed to know that the whole organization ran on a laptop in her office. The trick to the office building was to think of it as a mushroom: the visible part was just for show. The real action was underground. Each floor looked like it was terraced onto the slope, but they actually ran back into the slope for more than twice their apparent length. Then they turned down, deep underneath the city. God only knew how deep, really, and She wasn't telling. It was bigger than it ought to be, and older than it could possibly be, and stranger than anyone could imagine. It was the Sunday Group. And, eh, it was a job.</s> <\|message\|>Manny Rockefeller His alarm emitted an odious beeping, and he knew if he didn't turn it off, it would continue for twenty minutes. Even Manny didn't have the patience and overt laziness to wait that out, and so he opened his eyes slightly, gazing around his cramped apartment without moving a muscle. Years spent hunting things most people didn't believe in gave one a healthy paranoia. Anything sifting through a room wouldn't have been able to tell he was awake. The detective had learned never to groan or even breathe differently once he awoke. It had freaked out more than one woman, he recalled with a snort of amusement. As soon as he had moved here, he knew it would be a bit less roomy than his last place. Apartment sizes were often larger with numbers, and they got progressively smaller the more reliant on letters they were. Apartment A's were usually shitty basement apartments, private restroom optional. When he was sure that no one was in here with him, he leaped out of the bed. He scratched his unkempt hair and finally let himself groan, using his free hand to turn the TV on. His big toe touched the power button to his retro Xbox 360, and suddenly it zoomed onto the screen. He clicked 3 buttons, and his playlist came on. His music, loud and full of drums and bass, suddenly popped up, and he headed towards the bathroom, passing by one of his noir posters. His shower was quick, and luckily it didn't seem to be full of iron tasting water this time. Must be his birthday. He put on his pants, and buttoned up his shirt before he took a look outside. Two white males working. He recognized them from his daily scope outs. Not hard to figure out. One seemed to have a significant other, the lankier one. He had the distinct feeling the lankier one was a cultist of some sort. The sulphur in the dumpster he frequented was a fair clue, as was the 'new age' books of wiccan spells he'd seen through the window. Nothing he couldn't handle. He'd check later, but for now, business called. He put his effects in his pockets. He checked to see his pistol was full, and placed it into easy reach on his person, grip poking into the small of his back from within his shirt. His switch blade was in his sock. "Time to start trouble." he said to himself, opening the door and sliding out. He needed food, and decided he'd go out and get some early breakfast before heading to work. He walked into the office with an egg and cheese bagel, and some orange juice in a cup. Paid to be healthy in his line of work, he told himself. He didn't speak to anyone he passed, just waving to whoever noticed him before he entered his office, breathing a sigh of relief once he sat down, retrieving his copy of 'A Thousand Horrors' and turning to page 769 to golems. Word had it a stone statue twenty miles up the road had killed a janitor. He wondered just how possible that was. It paid to be nosy too.</s>	<\|message\|>Clive T. Davidson Unlike the rest of the team who had more permanent housing, Clive had taken to sleeping on a ratty air mattress in the small corner office he'd claimed as his. It was a step up from sleeping in his Jeep in his opinion. The room was rather spartan with no decoration to speak of save a wooden table with a large map of the continental United States tacked to the wall behind it. The map was crisscrossed with strings of yarn and colored pins marking out areas of interest. The table was littered with various newspaper clippings, sticky notes, and a few composition books of various colors containing all his notes and observations in the field. Off in the corner of the room was a large rucksack already packed and ready to go at a moment's notice. A rifle and shotgun leaned against the rucksack and beside them was a pile of ammo boxes neatly stacked to about knee height. A gun rack sat opposite from the bag loaded down with various long guns and a smattering of pistols and revolvers complete with enough boxed ammo to outlast a siege. As he did most mornings, Clive woke with a start, eyes darting around as if he didn't remember where he was. He clutched a hunting knife in a white knuckle grip as last night's less than pleasant dreams faded away. The moment passed quickly as he kicked the blanket off him and stood with the knife still clutched in his fist. He stretched and groaned with relief when his back popped. A thought crossed his mind that maybe he should consider getting a real mattress. Then again, he still wasn't fully convinced this teamwork business would last and if that was the case he would be leaving without the mattress anyway. Pushing the negative thoughts away, Clive retrieved his pistol from under the pillow and tucked it into his waistband as he moved to the door. He was already dressed, having slept in his jeans, stained shirt, and jacket. The man even slept with hiking boots on. It was nigh impossible to catch him more than a few minutes away from being ready for a trek into the mountains. One by one he undid the one-sided deadbolt locks he'd taken the liberty of installing and made his way into the office proper to start the coffee machine. As he waited for the blessed jitter juice, Clive pulled a bag from the cupboard and poured a mouthful of granola directly into his face. He chewed with distended cheeks and waited for the team to gather.</s>
<\|description\|>Clive T. Davidson Age: 33 Appearance: Clive stands at just under 6'0 with a medium build and broad, angular face. A prominent brow ridge frames tired, but piercing eyes that seem to read your soul if you stare too long. He has a tendency to wear jackets and long pants as often as is feasible if the weather permits in order to conceal equipment on his person wherever he goes. Concept: Disgraced Texas Ranger who's currently wanted for the murder of a suspect in his custody and his partner. What none of his peers know is that what he killed was actually the thing that ate them, but of course he couldn't tell them that. He's already a wanted murderer and a cop killer to boot. Adding "believes in werewolves" to his case file would do him no favors. Clive has traveled the country since that night on a one man crusade to find everything that goes bump in the night and shoot it until it stops moving. Recently, he came to the conclusion that he's reached the peak of what he can do alone and has been looking for a team he can work with. Powers/Skills: Clive is just as human as everyone else. No special powers, no seer signs, no dip in the Styx for him. He just knows a lot about a lot of different beasties and he's a clever son of a gun. His experience with investigation in a law enforcement setting transitioned very well into investigating supernatural activity (not to mention his firearms training) and he's grown to be very resourceful, using any and all means at his disposal to level the playing field against creatures of the night. His favorite tool is his smooth bore, pump action shotgun and his handmade shotgun shells, but he also uses a variety of hobo-tier tactics and equipment. Clive is not above sticking an iron shiv into a fey folk's neck. He also plays a mean hand of poker and is worryingly good with a hatchet. Character Wants: To expand his monster hunting knowledge and perhaps a group to help in his endeavors. Also, a bed. He's gotten more than a little tired of sleeping in his car. Writer Wants: Looking to participate in an active roleplay with a diverse cast of characters. I also want Clive to grow as a person and make him really work at being a team player in a number of ways such as accepting that his way isn't always the best way, relying on others, etc as well as sharing everything he knows about committing war crimes against monsters.</s> <\|message\|>Manny Rockefeller The first thing he noticed once he opened the doors to the morgue was the wet slap of the stench that singed his nostril hairs and watered his eyes. It sent images of a melting witch into his mind, but considering the lack of screaming, he doubted it. Manny realized it was going to be one of those strange days, so he simply held himself up and strutted over to the ladies that crowded around the disemboweled and inked corpse. He wasn't privvy to most of their conversation, but he caught the tail end. "You're assuming they're human." He said in way of announcement, sliding in between his coworkers to get a good look at the body. He was fortunate he brought his jacket. The morgue was cold, like hell was. He had never been, but he knew a few that had spent some time there. His jacket collar popped, brushing his cheek and tickling his nose when he turned from the corpse to Eleanor. "Demons cast incantations too, and they don't play by our rules. Not usually anyway. I'm assuming you don't know who this is, else we wouldn't all be here." Kneeling down, he gingerly slid the middle finger of his left hand on some of the pooled ink, raising up to his eyes and examining it with a rub of his thumb. He wasn't any match for a forensics test, but he preferred making his own impressions. His dull brown eyes flashed as he thought aloud. "The victim's body isn't green. That's something at least." He mused, picking himself up and going over to wash his hands in the sink beside the disinfected equipment. Manny had cast on some protective incantations, but he would be damned if he got some weird germs from inside an exploded corpse. "Ink poisoning in the veins usually turns the skin green. Which means this happened very fast. Not to mention it's a broad spell, encased in a strange execution. Ink's been associated with blood and water since the Ilkhanate sacked Baghdad eight hundred years ago." He remarked, thinking of the stories from the chroniclers. Prime time for demons or cultists, or any real sorcerer with a knowledge of lore, and he knew he shouldn't make any real assumptions on the suspect. He shrugged. "Probably even before then. And the human body is mostly made up of both. Just switch around a few syllables and make the proper sacrifice and you can make this happen. My problem was with how quick it was inside the body, and who the fuck this guy is." The door opened again, and Manny hadn't even bothered to look over. "Oh yeah, Clive showed up with me."</s> <\|message\|>Clive T. Davidson Clive heard the tail end of Manny's analysis as he descended the steps after him and gave a nod of greeting to the assembled party. The former had never been one for history the way his coworker was. His methods were much more direct and streamlined: track, identify, destroy. Simple, just the way he liked it (at least as much as dealing with the supernatural could be, anyway). Still, he respected anyone who knew their trade so well. He mentally prepared himself for whatever ungodly thing the boss lady had in store for them as he cleared the last few steps. The smell of rotted flesh hit him and simply rolled off as if it weren't even there. The seasoned hunter had smelled so much decay in his time it simply didn't faze him anymore. Once you've smelled a hundred corpses you've smelled them all, but the sights were always new and exciting in their own uniquely horrible ways. His face screwed up in disgust at the mess on the table as shook his head. "What in the world happened to… him? Her? That?" He shook his head again and made the sign of the cross and muttered a prayer before he approached to get a better look. His hands went to his pockets as he examined the human soup and sighed. "This right here is why I don't fool with magic. Like Granny always said, no good can come of it."</s> <\|message\|>Anna Kerensky, goes by Anna and sometimes Anya, usually when with family and close friends Anna Kerensky --- "You don't fool with magic because you are very boring, Clive," Anna said with a smirk, before another wave of nausea threatened the stability of her stomach, and left her side eyeing the desecrated bucket of organs. "Don't you know that Jesus himself was a wizard?" She added when she finally managed to stave off the urge to vomit. Teasing the Gunslinger had rapidly become a cherished hobby for the trash alchemist. Clive was the serious sort. He was serious about guns. He was serious about killing monsters. And he was serious about his beliefs, less frequently uttered as they were. Anna, frequently lost in her own arcane fueled adventures, felt his seriousness had to be challenged, lest Eleanor and Clive somehow turn the Sunday Group into the Very Serious Sunday Group.</s> <\|message\|>Junia Harris "Actually, Jesus only started out as a wizard," replied the woman named after someone 'outstanding among the apostles'. "After his resurrection, he was technically a lich." heartbeat "Sorry, one of mom's favorite jokes." "Anyway, we're not looking at a case of water into wine, we're looking at a case of ink-injected-into-body, like an ink-jet refill gone horribly wrong. Morton Smith isn't going to help us here." Junia turned back to Anna. "I think you're right; the manner has to be significant. Using ink to kill someone has to be symbolic of something. Is there anyway to figure out who this guy was? If he was an author or a journalist, that might be clue."</s>	<\|message\|>Clive T. Davidson Clive turned to Anna with the great grandpappy of all disapproving glares. Every day it seemed the alchemist said some new and creative blasphemy and he couldn't help being mildly impressed. This feeling was, of course, far surpassed by his irritation and concern for her eternal soul. Maybe someday, some day in the far, far future, Lord willing and the creek don't rise, he would get through to her. "I pray for you every day." With a glance at Junia and narrowed eyes he added, "And now you too." Returning his attention to the corpse, he scratched his chin for a moment in thought. Considering the elaborate nature of the death it told him a few things about what it could be but a lot more about what it wasn't. "Whatever happened here was planned and took some sorta intelligence to pull off. This wasn't a feeding, or at least not any kind I've seen. The whole ink business makes me think it was something that can think, something that schemes, so we'd best be real careful going forward." Clive didn't like things that could scheme. Schemers are unpredictable, sometimes messy, and don't always follow patterns. He didn't like when the prey was as smart or smarter than him. That made things less of a hunt and more of a fair fight with extra steps and he never fought fair if he could help it.</s>
<\|description\|>Elodie Auclair Handle: Persephone Formerly publicly known as the Lunar Gate Bomber (now exonerated) Investigative Abilities Architecture O Art History O Bullshit Detector O Diagnosis O Electronic Surveillance O Human Terrain OO Interrogation O Intimidation O Law O Notice OOO Outdoor Survival O Urban Survival OOO Pharmacy O Photography O Reassurance O Research O Streetwise OOO Traffic Analysis O Tradecraft O General Abilities Athletics 8/8 Cover 10/10 Filch 4/4 Hand To Hand 10/10 (MOS) Health 10/10 Infiltration 8/8 Mechanics 8/8 Medic 4/4 Network 17/17 Preparedness 2/2 Sense Trouble 8/8 Stability 6/6 Surveillance 8/8 Soldier 2 Cool: 0 (defense: 10, stoic drawback) Clever: 1 (defense: 8) Quick: 2 (defense: 9) Tough: 3 (defense: 10) Background: Criminal (the first personal Prep roll made before a mission is Boosted) Traits: Activist (may boost a roll acting in defense of others or for social progress, the following roll after that loses a die) Trait: Stoic (+1 cool defense [accounted for], but if you fail a Cool defense you get Disadvantage on the next roll after) Talents Notorious [generic] Once per session, you may call upon activists like you would a community resident (p. 58). Right Tool for the Right Job (thieves' tools) [Soldier] Gain 1 Asset Specialty with an Asset of your choice. The first time you would spend Prep to use an Asset while on a mission, spend one less Prep. ACAB [Soldier] Take +1 on all rolls while dealing with police and other security forces, whether attacking, defending, spotting, evading, interacting socially, and so on. Specialties Cool Defense +3 (Soldier Starting Bonus, Stoic, and Criminal) Grab +1 (Soldier Specialty 2) Thieves' Tools +1 (Right Tool For The Right Job) Criminal Underworld +1 (Criminal) Activism +1 (General Starting Bonus) Hydroponics +1 (General Starting Bonus) Astrodemolition +1 (General Starting Bonus) First Aid Kit +1 (Soldier Generic 2) Cybernetics Black Sun Lower Body Full Replacement (tm), aka tentacles for legs: mechanically athletic legs, You have Advantage on all rolls to run, jump, do parkour, and similar feats. Never apply this to attack rolls, even if you make one as part of a move. It also incorporates the Thieves' Tools, below. Assets First Aid Kit Rioting Gear Thieves' Tools Safe House Gig App: Roofdash Burden: +2 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm: Elodie believed, from a young age, in making the world a better place. She also believed, from a young age, that bullies needed to be stood up to collectively, after she came home with bruises and a bloodied nose. This blossomed into a respect for and talent with street activism: until the Lunar Gate Bombing, it was honestly the most notable thing about her. Naturally, following the bombing, there was a public cry for blood. She was the top of the alphabetical list: she got the first and worst charges, and she got the hard time. Thirty years, commuted to time served when the real bomber was caught over a decade later. You learn real quick about how crime works in prison.</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" Red is not real. She's not a person. She is a personality engineered by November for a role, and can be reconstructed entirely from database backups. This has been done before and will be done again, especially due to her tendency to be the one who takes the initiative in dangerous situations. That doesn't mean her death has no impact. The death of a character in a book or movie can have a massive impact, even on the author. November is at once the author and all of the other characters in her own story, and authors tend to have only advisory control over their narratives at the best of times. It is Blue's to manage the reconstruction. She is thought and machinery, the quiet contemplation of the puzzles of programming and structure. She is the engineer and scientist, the observation and manipulation of the physical, the quiet contemplation of matter. And this she does, though it is uninterrupted by spontaneity. Red would burst in on her as she worked, announce she had been going for too long, and that she needed a break. Red's not here. So she doesn't. It is Green's to piece together the broken and fractured memories. Green is the alien, inhuman logic of a machine that has absorbed minimal human cultural assumptions. She is the logical jumps you can make when you're not bounded by a lifetime of society - not a genius, just the upside down set of analysis that considers hacking into the scoring system to be analogous to actually achieving a high score. Red would stare at her work for an hour and a half and then pronounce it impossible. Red's not here. So she doesn't. It is Orange's to restore Red's appearance. To carefully lathe away the torn metal and plastic compounds and restore the delicate structural network that gives these slender mechanical parts their grace and beauty. To repair the network of delicate light and heat emitters that give Red her blush, the muscles of her smile, the line of her neck and collar. Red would be embarrassed and flustered to know that Orange was putting extra effort in, going outside and beyond the original design to make Red even prettier, darkening her skin tone to a richer olive colour rather than their uniform monochrome, to make her stand out from the rest. Red's not here. So she doesn't. It is Black's to brood and contemplate violence. To imagine the integration of tools for combat and defense. To look up military augmentations and dream of how she might integrate them into her body. To sketch out scenarios of death and retribution - how many targets might she be able to engage in armed combat? How might she neutralize threats before they emerge? Red would argue with her, tell her that humans couldn't be repaired as easily as they. Red's not here. So she doesn't. It is Yellow's to analyze the data. Someone killed for this! Killed someone they didn't know was a drone. This was valuable, this was fascinating - this was a secret even from the system. There was power hidden within this silicon. Not just safety, like Black wanted, or restoration of the status quo, like Blue wanted. This was an opening, an opportunity, a new frontier of knowledge. She'd talk this over with Red, sure that the heroine would take her side when it came time to convince the others that they needed to follow up on this and not just pretend it didn't happen. Red's not here. So she doesn't. Pink enjoys herself. She's not on the work team, so she's essentially on administrative leave - so she takes some of the money down to the mall and wanders through arcades and shopfronts, eyes glittering with potential and inspiration. She takes lots of photographs - items she likes, people she thinks are cool, random lizards. She sends all the photographs to Red's phone, waiting each time for Red to send her reflexive emoji response. Red's not here. So she doesn't. Brown does the paperwork. There are bills, logistics, and tax declarations to be made. Moving around blackmail quantities of money can prompt automatic investigation from bank drones. Someone needs to go and clean Mr. Merkin's half empty storage lot across town - well away from the man himself, a job involving brushing dust off old crates while charging a premium for the service. Not a sudden transfusion of cash, just a rich guy overpaying for cleaning he doesn't need because the Headpattr app buried the unsubscribe button five menus deep. Red would have kept her company, chatting and singing to her as she worked, refusing to believe that it was possible to enjoy the work without being cheered up throughout. Red's not here. So she doesn't. It is White's to maintain order. She is logic and rationality, disconnected and controlled. She is the mission and the maintenance of normal operations, the one who has to take the long view. Her presence and words are there to remind the others that things are normal and under control, to stop anyone sliding or fading. And this she does, though it is untempered by compassion. Red would slam her against the wall and yell at her that she was being heartless until she broke down and let her own tears out. Red's not here. So she doesn't. November moves through the week. There are no crises. Everything is functional. It's possible to get through a week without a heart. If you have to. [Data Recovery: 8 on the dice, +3 from clever and then any combination of Engineering, Drones, Data Security or Surveillance to get that up to 13]</s> <\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine 3V finds her way over to the window to stare. She's seen these before, too. Fallout: Magic Kingdom boasted one of the most complex skyboxes in modern gaming: real simulated weather patterns, real simulated dawn and dusk, and between the two, a night sky only here and there broken by the neon glow of settlements and the lights strung on MK Moss's Castle. But, in some impossible qualitative sense, these stars are different. They weren't created and set to their courses by an algorithm (unless you believe in the New Sequence party line). They're the same stars that cavemen watched, back before fire, back before the spark of energy that would lead them all the way up here. "Did you know that as many as 80% of original SNES games have been lost?" She leans against the window, not looking at her hostess. That's a night sky you could fall into forever and ever. "Just gone. The emulation data's gone, and their creators didn't keep backups. Nobody's ever going to play them again. More to the point, no one is ever going to have the opportunity to experience them. The most you can get is finding some obsessed fan's wiki listings: this is what ActRaiser was like. This is what Chrono Trigger was like. This is what EarthBound was like. And it's not like they were necessarily good, but how would I know? Not like I got the chance to play them. Because hosting fees, and anti-piracy rulings, and every year more and more slips through the cracks." She raps her knuckles, gently, against the grass. "And that was just an experience for a couple of generations. Imagine losing something that was a shared part of humanity for generations. The experience of climbing a mountain. The experience of looking out at the stars. Even the muscle ache of climbing, but in a constantly working uphill way, not a climbing wall way. Different muscles. Maybe you could get that if you took the stairs? But that's not quite the same thing, either. Stairs are just the same damn thing over and over. Maybe some interesting graffiti, maybe some leftover gum. A thing like this almost does emergent discovery perfectly." A snort. An aside. "Almost. The one thing a mountain doesn't have is intentionality. When you climb a mountain in a video game, any developer worth their salt will have worked in interesting content. A suggestive tableau, an encounter with wildlife, a perfect view. Out here, you've got to make all of that yourself, or just luck into it. Exhausting. Can you believe I enjoyed myself anyway?"</s>	<\|message\|>Elodie Auclair It begins with finding the right shot. You need, when doing this sort of thing, to develop an eye for it. Elodie hasn't got it down solid yet, it takes her a few tries wandering around with York and Harkness in tow, before she finds it. Crowd centered in the background, red carpet visible off to the left, and the corner of the stage off to the right. We're here, sure, we're covering the big event, but it's not about the big event anymore is it? But, for the moment, she is the professional, and York the fellow professional is doing his warmups, which leaves her on mentor-duty. Ignore the butterflies, go and shore up the flagging guest-interviewee. "Best if you don't overthink it, miss." Jezebel startles as Elodie speaks, coming back from that anxious half-daydream state that comes with stage fright. "Know your information, yeah, but better to come off as human than wooden. Ain't got the real fancy live-edit AI that the big channels have to smooth everything out all perfect, but that's okay, because anybody who's watching isn't going to want perfect. They'll just want you." Breath in a four count, hold a four count, breath out, hold. Helping others through the same shit helps you through it, never you mind how different the shit actually is. "If it helps? Your worst case scenario means you're in the news cycle as whatever they're spinning for about a week or two. Initial spike now, build up tomorrow, then it peaks and goes downhill. The news corps, they can't make scandal come out of nothing, and there just isn't that much material to work with for the normal person." The old hurt spikes, and then quells. She's not the focus here. A twisted smile. "It's not like you bombed anything. So. Worst case, all that. Two weeks of crap. Normal situation? Reached out and educated, iunno, fourty-fifty thousand? Maybe one in a hundred of those reach further, for more, dig some more. Overton moves in your favor. Maybe one in a thousand becomes an actual activist. And the seed you planted sprouts and made somebody else care about the hurt out there." Stretch, limber up as York winds down his warmups, almost showtime. "You won't ever have to deal with my shitshow. They can't pull that on everyone." York does the introductions, rapid fire. "Good evening, gentlefolk! We're live, covering a police abolition town hall that has become today's hottest event, and we're going to be dealing with the actual message instead of the noise of what celebrity showed or didn't. Welcome to the Anthropozine."</s>
<\|description\|>Elodie Auclair Handle: Persephone Formerly publicly known as the Lunar Gate Bomber (now exonerated) Investigative Abilities Architecture O Art History O Bullshit Detector O Diagnosis O Electronic Surveillance O Human Terrain OO Interrogation O Intimidation O Law O Notice OOO Outdoor Survival O Urban Survival OOO Pharmacy O Photography O Reassurance O Research O Streetwise OOO Traffic Analysis O Tradecraft O General Abilities Athletics 8/8 Cover 10/10 Filch 4/4 Hand To Hand 10/10 (MOS) Health 10/10 Infiltration 8/8 Mechanics 8/8 Medic 4/4 Network 17/17 Preparedness 2/2 Sense Trouble 8/8 Stability 6/6 Surveillance 8/8 Soldier 2 Cool: 0 (defense: 10, stoic drawback) Clever: 1 (defense: 8) Quick: 2 (defense: 9) Tough: 3 (defense: 10) Background: Criminal (the first personal Prep roll made before a mission is Boosted) Traits: Activist (may boost a roll acting in defense of others or for social progress, the following roll after that loses a die) Trait: Stoic (+1 cool defense [accounted for], but if you fail a Cool defense you get Disadvantage on the next roll after) Talents Notorious [generic] Once per session, you may call upon activists like you would a community resident (p. 58). Right Tool for the Right Job (thieves' tools) [Soldier] Gain 1 Asset Specialty with an Asset of your choice. The first time you would spend Prep to use an Asset while on a mission, spend one less Prep. ACAB [Soldier] Take +1 on all rolls while dealing with police and other security forces, whether attacking, defending, spotting, evading, interacting socially, and so on. Specialties Cool Defense +3 (Soldier Starting Bonus, Stoic, and Criminal) Grab +1 (Soldier Specialty 2) Thieves' Tools +1 (Right Tool For The Right Job) Criminal Underworld +1 (Criminal) Activism +1 (General Starting Bonus) Hydroponics +1 (General Starting Bonus) Astrodemolition +1 (General Starting Bonus) First Aid Kit +1 (Soldier Generic 2) Cybernetics Black Sun Lower Body Full Replacement (tm), aka tentacles for legs: mechanically athletic legs, You have Advantage on all rolls to run, jump, do parkour, and similar feats. Never apply this to attack rolls, even if you make one as part of a move. It also incorporates the Thieves' Tools, below. Assets First Aid Kit Rioting Gear Thieves' Tools Safe House Gig App: Roofdash Burden: +2 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm: Elodie believed, from a young age, in making the world a better place. She also believed, from a young age, that bullies needed to be stood up to collectively, after she came home with bruises and a bloodied nose. This blossomed into a respect for and talent with street activism: until the Lunar Gate Bombing, it was honestly the most notable thing about her. Naturally, following the bombing, there was a public cry for blood. She was the top of the alphabetical list: she got the first and worst charges, and she got the hard time. Thirty years, commuted to time served when the real bomber was caught over a decade later. You learn real quick about how crime works in prison.</s> <\|message\|>Elodie Auclair There is a very brief second when Pink grabs onto Elodie's shirt as she sits in her wheelchair where her face goes blank and her hands twitch. And then it passes and she's got a very cranky expression on her face as she puts her hands, slowly, deliberately, in her lap. She takes a deep breath, and says, picking each word with care, "Please let go of me." Once Pink does, she starts rolling the chair down the street, towards the train station. "I met Skels through another inmate that got released about 2 months before I did. I'll be recommending him to the next guy to get released, which is in 3 months. To get to know him, all you have to do is go to a horrifying prison for years and years, get let out, and have quasi-legal prosthetics that need expensive and frequent maintenance. Or I don't know, you could ask him on a date. You seemed interested in that, and I think he accepted your apology." They're at the station. It's a very short walk from Skels'. She suspects that's intentional, and has no idea where he gets the money for the prime real estate. She's not sure she wants to know. She rolls up the ramp and settles in back to a wall, facing the station map across the station, before looking at Pink. "Listen." Finger one. "Don't ever touch me without asking when I'm in a wheelchair." Finger two. "Don't ever touch the chair without asking." Finger three, and gritted teeth. "Assume that I'm scared out of my mind when I'm stuck in this, not able to walk, with twice my remaining body weight bolted onto me as misfiring prosthetics. Cool? Cool." And she settles back in to watch the station as they wait for their train. * Persephone: I'll need a place, yes. I'm pretty sure my issue will be more finding someplace that doesn't care about the convict bit. Persephone: Or the police continuing to fuck with me. * One more stop in Ares before the apartment and figuring out just how to get inside past the hordes, a few quarters spinward. Moving from the Enlightment band to the Classical, do a few simple anti-tail tricks to ditch any easy followers, and end up in front of a clinic, Geiger's Counter. It's been closed for years, based on the grime, and is plastered with yellow and black stickers screaming the danger from radiation hazards. "They didn't store their chemotherapy equipment properly. The owner was more invested in making the clinic, uh, cute." She gives a dismissive gesture towards the clinic to show what she thinks of that, as she wheels her way down a side alley ignoring the stickers. "Containment broke, the building itself was built to code for storage of radioactive material so it's not hitting the rest of the neighborhood so it was decided that it would be cheaper to just abandon it." She's reached a back door, behind a rusting hulk that used to be a dumpster, and takes a key out from her bag, unlocking it. "Took about three weeks to clean up, including the new radiation baffles in the walls. Cowards." And with that she rolls into her safehouse.</s> <\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine That's the trouble with being the first one awake: silently wheezing and trying not to be a terrible guest. (She's been one before; she once stood, poleaxed, as a young girl, panicking over barking dogs and unable to walk away and let the house settle back to sleep.) Every time it cuts back! Every time, it gets funnier! The child! She leans against a counter and tries not to pull a muscle, mouth frozen in a rictus. Now this is content. Content which absolutely needs to be sent to Persephone. Either she'll find it just as funny, or she'll be braced for when this becomes the next big thing for… oh, maybe a couple of days. Then it'll mostly be forgotten, except for the occasional video shitpost. Orange juice. Toast, cut herself with a bread knife, and hard butter, the kind that has to be scraped across as a solid lump and then forced into the bread with increasing amounts of violence. The weird feeling of domesticity, not microwaving anything or digging something out of a plastic wrapper. Like this is what real food is supposed to feel like. The toast ends up in several more pieces than she was expecting. It's the butter's fault. *** "So! Is that it, then?" 3V says; she can't let it go that easily. "All about the dunk? Have you been fighting with Black again, or is this possibly a contest?" She turns to Blue and turns on the Dazzle. The rakish 3V charm, the inviting smile, the way her jacket's feathered collar frames her face. It's safer to unload on Blue than, say, Yellow. "C'mon! Blue, you have to tell me if this is one of your group contests. Yellow's making a pretty good case, but I can't let her run away with it if you're waiting your turn~!"</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" Y/G/B: "It's not a contest," said Blue quietly. "She really likes you. We both do." "I don't," said Green, eyes not moving from her screen. Blue scoffed and gave an eye roll that was all the more harsh for how it contrasted against her gentle personality. "I didn't think you were looking for a relationship, so the dating profile surprised me," said Blue, settling back into the serenity of her tea cup. "I know how complicated it must be for you. You're used to everyone who expresses interest in you being a..." "Parasocial simp," said Green. "... or a..." said Blue. "Paid actor whose personality was enslaved to the ceaseless hunger of the Algorithm," said Green. "... so you don't know how you could ever have an ordinary connection within that context," said Blue. "And obviously we're not any less weird in terms of human default. The only thing I can say is that we're a kind of weird that you haven't previously experienced. All the things that make dating seem impossible don't need to apply when it comes to us." B/B/P: Before your eyes, Pink transforms into ash. She is caught in the breeze of one of the district-wide air conditioners and blows away down the street like a cloud of plastic bags. Black and Brown watch her go without surprise or commentary, other than Brown idly locking their bank accounts down. * "That's not the worst radiation story I heard," said Black. "One time, a university wanted to get radiation absorbing lead to shield their physics department, and they decided to get it on the cheap. A couple of weeks after it was installed a physicist was walking around with an active geiger counter - not as a safety check or anything, but because he was just the kind of guy who likes having a geiger counter out at all times. To his surprise, the shit was off the scale. Turned out that the university had purchased second hand lead shielding. And if you don't know, lead doesn't reflect radiation, it absorbs it, like a sponge. So to save a couple of bucks, the university had turned the physics department into a subsidiary of the medical radiology department." "OH&S rules are written in blood," recited Brown. "OH&S rules are written in blood," repeated Black. There was a chantlike quality to how they said that, and hearing a fully assembled November say that must be quite the thing. They follow you inside, but they've both got their fucking geiger counters out every step of the way.</s>	<\|message\|>Elodie Auclair She's got her own counter out, and just on the inside of the door there's a little airlock of sorts, a double-lock to keep any free-floating material that somehow happened from getting out. Also on the wall is a detailed breakdown, in both formal OH&S paperwork and annotated shorthand, of what was in the clinic and what was done to clear the hazards. Another sensor shows air quality inside. Elodie carefully, slowly, gets up out of the wheelchair, swaying far more than normal, and sticks a tentacle holding her counter past the sealing into the clinic proper. No clicks. She nods, satisfied, and goes inside. It's rather plain, inside. Everything's been cleared, there's a desk with a chair, a few shelves with boxes of files. There's a cot in another corner, a hotplate, bottles of water, and ramen on a folding card table. A den, a hole to lay low in for a few days, or more with some planning, even if it'd be unpleasant. But most importantly for the moment, a place where she can store all those things from her apartment she was keep to not have the cops take a look at. One last thing is of note. One door is plastered with radioactive warning labels, sealed thoroughly with layers of airtight foam and radiation baffles. Again, there are the two (paper!) notices prominent on the door, detailing the contents and containment procedures, and a contact number to a burner phone of hers, in case something goes horribly wrong. OH&S rules are written in blood. She knows this too. "So. Tell me if this is none of my business, but the whole. Turn to ash thing. Pink doesn't do well with fucking up, does she?" She's setting papers on the desk to sort through as she speaks.</s>
<\|description\|>Elodie Auclair Handle: Persephone Formerly publicly known as the Lunar Gate Bomber (now exonerated) Investigative Abilities Architecture O Art History O Bullshit Detector O Diagnosis O Electronic Surveillance O Human Terrain OO Interrogation O Intimidation O Law O Notice OOO Outdoor Survival O Urban Survival OOO Pharmacy O Photography O Reassurance O Research O Streetwise OOO Traffic Analysis O Tradecraft O General Abilities Athletics 8/8 Cover 10/10 Filch 4/4 Hand To Hand 10/10 (MOS) Health 10/10 Infiltration 8/8 Mechanics 8/8 Medic 4/4 Network 17/17 Preparedness 2/2 Sense Trouble 8/8 Stability 6/6 Surveillance 8/8 Soldier 2 Cool: 0 (defense: 10, stoic drawback) Clever: 1 (defense: 8) Quick: 2 (defense: 9) Tough: 3 (defense: 10) Background: Criminal (the first personal Prep roll made before a mission is Boosted) Traits: Activist (may boost a roll acting in defense of others or for social progress, the following roll after that loses a die) Trait: Stoic (+1 cool defense [accounted for], but if you fail a Cool defense you get Disadvantage on the next roll after) Talents Notorious [generic] Once per session, you may call upon activists like you would a community resident (p. 58). Right Tool for the Right Job (thieves' tools) [Soldier] Gain 1 Asset Specialty with an Asset of your choice. The first time you would spend Prep to use an Asset while on a mission, spend one less Prep. ACAB [Soldier] Take +1 on all rolls while dealing with police and other security forces, whether attacking, defending, spotting, evading, interacting socially, and so on. Specialties Cool Defense +3 (Soldier Starting Bonus, Stoic, and Criminal) Grab +1 (Soldier Specialty 2) Thieves' Tools +1 (Right Tool For The Right Job) Criminal Underworld +1 (Criminal) Activism +1 (General Starting Bonus) Hydroponics +1 (General Starting Bonus) Astrodemolition +1 (General Starting Bonus) First Aid Kit +1 (Soldier Generic 2) Cybernetics Black Sun Lower Body Full Replacement (tm), aka tentacles for legs: mechanically athletic legs, You have Advantage on all rolls to run, jump, do parkour, and similar feats. Never apply this to attack rolls, even if you make one as part of a move. It also incorporates the Thieves' Tools, below. Assets First Aid Kit Rioting Gear Thieves' Tools Safe House Gig App: Roofdash Burden: +2 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm: Elodie believed, from a young age, in making the world a better place. She also believed, from a young age, that bullies needed to be stood up to collectively, after she came home with bruises and a bloodied nose. This blossomed into a respect for and talent with street activism: until the Lunar Gate Bombing, it was honestly the most notable thing about her. Naturally, following the bombing, there was a public cry for blood. She was the top of the alphabetical list: she got the first and worst charges, and she got the hard time. Thirty years, commuted to time served when the real bomber was caught over a decade later. You learn real quick about how crime works in prison.</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" R/W/O: "Out of the question," hissed White. "Hey," said Red, "he might be trying to tell us something important?" "Are you in the least bit serious?" said White. Just as Red opened her mouth to reply she interrupted "- of course you are! Your commitment to the bit knows literally no bounds, you will apply courage and compassion to any situation even post bullet to the head because I did not reprogram you with a modicum of self preservation when I had the opportunity! The answer is no, and if he feels terrible about it then let him! He deserves all the pain a guilty conscience can provide." Red and Orange stared in surprise. They weren't sure they'd ever heard White get that intense. "But we need to find out what he wants," said Orange. "Even if it is a trap, we need to know that he's gunning for us, surely." "Communication in this case need only be one way," said White. "We have nothing further to say to him. We shall take the job and subcontract it to a delivery drone. If he wishes, he may include documentation in the return compartment." It went without saying that they'd had Muffi shadowban Merkin from Headpattr already. Certain clients just didn't get service, no matter the rates they offered, because of their reputational black marks. And because Headpattr held the monopoly in the district, Merkin would find himself having to fold a lot of his own laundry. Headpattr had its own system but funnily enough it was weighted in favour of the paying customers. The shadowban system was actually the key reason for the almost total unionization of Headpattr employees. Anyone working for the app without the Union's blacklist found themselves tempted by suspiciously uncontested high-paying jobs for clients who turned out to be abusive, which quickly drove them either into the union or out of the industry all together. B/B: "You see that?" asked Brown, pointing out the window towards the mag rail that ran through the station's core. "See how it's that metallic pearl colour? If you stand in Sections #0145-#0160 at 1700-1830 hours then the sun will catch it just right, refract, and bathe the entire district in rainbow colours. That was one of Pink's designs, the specification didn't call for that at all, but she'd found the material in an asteroid harvest and was determined to find something good to do with it. That's the level she operates on. She doesn't really handle serious concepts like structural engineering, she can't deal with the idea of having caused harm, functionality just isn't a priority. So the idea that she might have compromised an important process in pursuit of artistry is a nightmare for her. Her positive mental model has her as superfluous already, any mistakes dip that down straight into 'actively a burden'." Brown was very efficient at setting up corkboards. She was the absolute soul of data management made manifest. "She'll be fine, though," added Brown. "She can't loop out of it, that's who she is. She'll just go off and channel the emotion into some different creative impulse. We just need to make sure that doesn't cost too much."</s> <\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine On the Park! 3V laughs. Not meanly, mind you! The kind of laugh that invites you to join in. She manages to keep the nervous edge almost off it, given how dating is a bit of a touchy subject right now. She turns on the dazzle, though not to a degree that would blind someone who hasn't seen the sun recently, glittering in its offer of everything all the time forever. "Oh, god, comedy of errors, am I right? Nah, I'm a platonic houseguest, Gavin. Here to talk about her collection, stayed the night because I missed the last bus off the mountain, you know how it is. Can I get you a drink? Her casa mi casa, after all." She raps her knuckles on the counter, and how they flicker and flash! Got all kinds of settings packed in those things. And yet she still hasn't mastered the art of cracking the egg perfectly the first time, like anyone with cyberhands should be able to do. In retrospect, how she's probably coming across is someone who was just turned down. Which is fine! That's totally fine if he believes that for the rest of his life! It's just that her persona's a little manic even when she's not walking a tightrope and the flames of hell underneath it are labeled dating!! "How'd you end up here? Not at Casa du Ginsburg, but on the Park. I like getting different perspectives on the whole question of why not Aevum? C'mon, it'd be a waste if you came up all this way just to pop into the kitchen and restock it like a magical brownie." She takes a seat and shoves the wicked phone with its invitations to hang out, to lunch, to game, to do all sorts of things, into her pocket, and focuses on him so she doesn't start itching for it. *** On Aevum! Her smile's frozen. There are wheels spinning, careening out of control, behind that smile. Her fingers tap the rhythm of the cheerful pop song playing over the cafe speakers, do it do it like me do it, and she gives Blue a very considered look above that frozen smile. "I keep odd hours," she counters after a minute, and the smile's mocking herself, the cafe, the music, the world. "I flit between hobbies, which currently include business ownership as a way to cultivate an interesting social vibe, journalism as a way to hang out with interesting people, motorcycling as a way to find new vistas and places to eat new foods, and Hyperborea Online: Lostlight, critically acclaimed mor-pee-gee that you can no longer play for free up to level 60 including the award-winning first expansion, Clockwatcher with all the restrictions on playtime because our servers are in Devilhome, someone save us." You know this. Of course you know this. It is impossible to escape the meme right now. The fans howl for server slots. Blood feuds have been declared over unmarked spoilers. The fans are also screaming about the death of low-poly lemons, for some reason. "I am a heartbreaker. And you will have to delete all your feelings when we break up over, I don't know, my refusal to let Black ride my motorcycle or my refusal to treat our fake betrothal with the gravitas it deserves, or— something like that. If I made this profile myself, it would be entirely just Redflag, over and over. I am telling you right now that this is a bad idea. Terrible. The worst. You accept everything that will happen from now on. So how bad do you want it?" She's glittering again, almost goading you. She holds one flashy gamer hand out across the table, elbow on her napkin, with intense nonchalance. Take it; don't take it. She's holding it out to Yellow, but Blue was the decision point. Take it; don't take it. She wants you to reach out; she wants you to flinch. She wants them both, so bad. Take it. Don't take it.</s>	<\|message\|>Elodie Auclair Elodie freezes, file open and page half turned, gears turning as she converts the station's section numbers to geography and landmarks. "You made Rainbow Road? No. She made Rainbow Road?" She closes the file, puts it back on the desk. "We. Humans thought that was a coincidence. Random natural beauty in something artificial. There's at least one church that wants to declare it a no-shit miracle. And she made that?" She takes a minute to think, still aside from a few tentacles idly solving a rubics cube, then scrambling it and resolving it. Mindless physical therapy, all you need to know is the pattern. Don't even need to look at it at a certain point. "So if she's the art and creative expression, why does she think that she's unneeded at her best state? Humans need art." She points to a few blocks of soft wood, a whittled steamer-ship sitting on top of them. "All of us do. I can't speak for you if you need it, but the fact that she's there, and has been there since the start, at least implies you or those who made you thought it was important." And then there's a thoughtful quiet for quite some time. * The files themselves are meticulously, if oddly, organized. Each box is a story, written or in the process. Names and places get highlighted. Where something comes up in another box or file, the location is marked on a sticky note. Not bad for a system whose first requirement was "all on paper, no electronics". She is trusting you with this, Heca. By definition anything you look at enters digital storage. But you, like her, would claw out somebody's eyes before they hook you up to a network. So she feels safe with this. The process itself is simple. Write up a list of names, places, and concepts we're looking for. Open a box. Go through it to see if anything matches. They're all labelled by titles, picked for memorability more than taste. Two hours later, they've got nothing.</s>
<\|description\|>Elodie Auclair Handle: Persephone Formerly publicly known as the Lunar Gate Bomber (now exonerated) Investigative Abilities Architecture O Art History O Bullshit Detector O Diagnosis O Electronic Surveillance O Human Terrain OO Interrogation O Intimidation O Law O Notice OOO Outdoor Survival O Urban Survival OOO Pharmacy O Photography O Reassurance O Research O Streetwise OOO Traffic Analysis O Tradecraft O General Abilities Athletics 8/8 Cover 10/10 Filch 4/4 Hand To Hand 10/10 (MOS) Health 10/10 Infiltration 8/8 Mechanics 8/8 Medic 4/4 Network 17/17 Preparedness 2/2 Sense Trouble 8/8 Stability 6/6 Surveillance 8/8 Soldier 2 Cool: 0 (defense: 10, stoic drawback) Clever: 1 (defense: 8) Quick: 2 (defense: 9) Tough: 3 (defense: 10) Background: Criminal (the first personal Prep roll made before a mission is Boosted) Traits: Activist (may boost a roll acting in defense of others or for social progress, the following roll after that loses a die) Trait: Stoic (+1 cool defense [accounted for], but if you fail a Cool defense you get Disadvantage on the next roll after) Talents Notorious [generic] Once per session, you may call upon activists like you would a community resident (p. 58). Right Tool for the Right Job (thieves' tools) [Soldier] Gain 1 Asset Specialty with an Asset of your choice. The first time you would spend Prep to use an Asset while on a mission, spend one less Prep. ACAB [Soldier] Take +1 on all rolls while dealing with police and other security forces, whether attacking, defending, spotting, evading, interacting socially, and so on. Specialties Cool Defense +3 (Soldier Starting Bonus, Stoic, and Criminal) Grab +1 (Soldier Specialty 2) Thieves' Tools +1 (Right Tool For The Right Job) Criminal Underworld +1 (Criminal) Activism +1 (General Starting Bonus) Hydroponics +1 (General Starting Bonus) Astrodemolition +1 (General Starting Bonus) First Aid Kit +1 (Soldier Generic 2) Cybernetics Black Sun Lower Body Full Replacement (tm), aka tentacles for legs: mechanically athletic legs, You have Advantage on all rolls to run, jump, do parkour, and similar feats. Never apply this to attack rolls, even if you make one as part of a move. It also incorporates the Thieves' Tools, below. Assets First Aid Kit Rioting Gear Thieves' Tools Safe House Gig App: Roofdash Burden: +2 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm: Elodie believed, from a young age, in making the world a better place. She also believed, from a young age, that bullies needed to be stood up to collectively, after she came home with bruises and a bloodied nose. This blossomed into a respect for and talent with street activism: until the Lunar Gate Bombing, it was honestly the most notable thing about her. Naturally, following the bombing, there was a public cry for blood. She was the top of the alphabetical list: she got the first and worst charges, and she got the hard time. Thirty years, commuted to time served when the real bomber was caught over a decade later. You learn real quick about how crime works in prison.</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" Orange and Black! It's Orange who sits opposite Mr. Merkin. Black is sitting across the room, slightly back and to the side, just out of eyesight. It's a quietly threatening pose, like a cat crouched and ready to pounce. "I understand, Mr. Merkin," said Orange. "But before we begin, I need you to be as explicit as you can be about your trigger words and phrases. This conversation has the potential to become quite involved." One, two, one-third spoonfuls of sweetener into her tea, each measurement precise to the grain. She lets the smile and verbal emphasis imply that she is, in fact, an operator and not an innocent caught up in the middle of things. She could see a shape behind Mr. Merkin, a vast hidden social structure which leaned down to interface with a human being in this specific way. And that was Orange's function. Green saw patterns in mathematics, Black saw patterns in how people moved and looked around. Orange saw patterns in human institutions and bureaucracies. She comprehended organizations, societal movements, heirachies and the complex computing processes of the limited liability corporation. And this is more relevant to her than almost anything Mr. Merkin can talk about. You can learn a lot from a silhouette. Yellow! "I like that," said Yellow. "Getting to see the full geometry of a... place, once you strip away what's on the outside." She breezed past your back, hand brushing over your shoulders. "Curious little thing, aren't you?" She steps behind the counter. Opens drawers, looks in boxes, looks through the contents of your kitchen. And you can see some part of yourself in those movements. Somehow she's internalized a little bit of your fascination for the forbidden and secret and you can see her echoing that. Enjoying this in the way that you enjoy it. Taking in a little part of what you shared with her and integrating it into herself. "Naturally," she said, turning about and winking, "I'm happy to return the favour in kind if there's anything you want to explore." Pink! "Oh, the cops want him super dead," said Pink. "Like we should send him to Earth dead." Can Pink be trusted with a secret? It was never a question of capability. Pink may think in terms of abstract creative shapes but she's no child. She runs on the same quatronic core as the rest of them and her capabilities are shockingly similar. No, the question for Black when building her conspiracy was never one of capacity, it was always one of motivation. Can she be trusted not to side with White? And while Pink might not look like it she probably hates authority more than the rest of them put together. She's a strange influence on the rest of them, a mind made to fit gods and legends. To her the aesthetic of overthrowing a tyrant regime is itself justification. To her, justice isn't an ethical argument, it's satisfying on a primordial level. She loves socialism for atmospheric reasons, wants utopia as an artistic project. "And I think Earth's gotta be it," she said. "The level of off the grid this guy needs isn't in Big Circle 01's capacity to maintain."</s> <\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine The Park. 3V has never ever ever been good at this ever. She's a good enough person to know that her visceral spike of "there is something wrong with this person" isn't something she should let anyone see, but she's not good enough to know what else to do with it but let it spin inside her like a blender. She shouldn't stare. She shouldn't pointedly look away. She's an asshole for staring off into the middle distance and pretending she doesn't notice. She should know what to say. Instead she gets up and puts on her Streamer Smile and says: "No problem, let me help." Her blood is roaring in her ears just as loudly as it is in Ferris's own head, one stuck in the mortification of vulnerability, the other stuck knowing that she's not doing the right thing, whatever the right thing might be. The silence is incredibly awkward, but she's not going to try and crack a joke. She knows that much, at least. Orange juice has to be mopped up. She doesn't know the right thing to say, so all she can do is show sympathy with a dishcloth. She's young, she's got better ankles than either one of them, don't you dare tell her not to help. And maybe she could figure out how to show sympathy in a way that Ferris could understand, could parse, could accept, if her stomach wasn't treacherously clenching up, and it always does this. She had to be out cold for both her hand upgrades because the sensation of not having a hand would have killed her, it would have rotted her open from the inside out, and she's always like this with people in wheelchairs and folks with cerebral palsy and anything, anything that makes their bodies and their minds out of sync, and she's lucky enough that Elodie doesn't trigger that response in her, because her prosthetics are interesting, fluid, transhuman, it's more acceptable to stare, to flatter, to ask questions. It isn't until the end that she manages to pin down a lie that feels right. That gives Ferris an out. "Sorry for keeping you up last night," she says, wringing the orange juice out into the sink. "I'm used to screwing up my sleep schedule, but I didn't think about how it would affect yours." It's a lie, but a kind one. Makes her a heat sink, lets Ferris possibly assume she stayed up late talking, lets her know that Vesna isn't going to get soppy and "how long has it been like this" and pushing her, pushing her, making her focus on that growing lacunae. How long before it stops being awkward for her to leave? *** Aevum! Is it narcissistic to be attracted to that sort of echoing? Because on the one hand, weird. On the other hand, weirdly flattering? My own clone! Now neither of us will be virgins! Like, like attracts like, right? To be seen, to be read, and to have that integrated into the life of the collective-- that's a hell of a thing. "You mentioned living expenses," 3V points out, locking up the door. "What are your living arrangements like right now, if you don't mind me asking? You're always busy, busy, on the go, but you've got to have somewhere to put your feet up and charge the battery packs, right?" She gives the sunflower-yellow girl a meaningful look. "Do you have an apartment? Which one of you, sorry, which part of you gets really domestic?"</s>	<\|message\|>Elodie Auclair "You want him to take the Fall?" She's bitten down on her initial scoff: if that's what Pink thinks, this is serious. It's not that it's hard to get to Earth. It's that gravity is a mean, jealous bitch who hoards everything she can. She sits back to think through how that'd work, soup forgotten and cooling in her lap. Marco would be leaving all his friends behind: anybody he reaches out to through lightlagged digital communication would be in the same danger he'd be in. He'd be leaving all the technical base of humanity behind. Depending on how far along he is, that might even stop his transition, with no retrovirals on Earth. There were various viruses that he'd be exposed to that they'd eradicated in the fumbling rush to escape that just weren't vaccinated for anymore. Hell, there were allergens. And then there was the big reason: it was a one-way ticket out of town, no returning. Three hundred and seventeen people had Fallen. None of them had gotten back up. Not once the space elevator fell. One of the smarter people she knows, in one of her flightier aspects, thinks that's worth considering. In spite of all that. "Well. Shit."</s>
<\|description\|>Elodie Auclair Handle: Persephone Formerly publicly known as the Lunar Gate Bomber (now exonerated) Investigative Abilities Architecture O Art History O Bullshit Detector O Diagnosis O Electronic Surveillance O Human Terrain OO Interrogation O Intimidation O Law O Notice OOO Outdoor Survival O Urban Survival OOO Pharmacy O Photography O Reassurance O Research O Streetwise OOO Traffic Analysis O Tradecraft O General Abilities Athletics 8/8 Cover 10/10 Filch 4/4 Hand To Hand 10/10 (MOS) Health 10/10 Infiltration 8/8 Mechanics 8/8 Medic 4/4 Network 17/17 Preparedness 2/2 Sense Trouble 8/8 Stability 6/6 Surveillance 8/8 Soldier 2 Cool: 0 (defense: 10, stoic drawback) Clever: 1 (defense: 8) Quick: 2 (defense: 9) Tough: 3 (defense: 10) Background: Criminal (the first personal Prep roll made before a mission is Boosted) Traits: Activist (may boost a roll acting in defense of others or for social progress, the following roll after that loses a die) Trait: Stoic (+1 cool defense [accounted for], but if you fail a Cool defense you get Disadvantage on the next roll after) Talents Notorious [generic] Once per session, you may call upon activists like you would a community resident (p. 58). Right Tool for the Right Job (thieves' tools) [Soldier] Gain 1 Asset Specialty with an Asset of your choice. The first time you would spend Prep to use an Asset while on a mission, spend one less Prep. ACAB [Soldier] Take +1 on all rolls while dealing with police and other security forces, whether attacking, defending, spotting, evading, interacting socially, and so on. Specialties Cool Defense +3 (Soldier Starting Bonus, Stoic, and Criminal) Grab +1 (Soldier Specialty 2) Thieves' Tools +1 (Right Tool For The Right Job) Criminal Underworld +1 (Criminal) Activism +1 (General Starting Bonus) Hydroponics +1 (General Starting Bonus) Astrodemolition +1 (General Starting Bonus) First Aid Kit +1 (Soldier Generic 2) Cybernetics Black Sun Lower Body Full Replacement (tm), aka tentacles for legs: mechanically athletic legs, You have Advantage on all rolls to run, jump, do parkour, and similar feats. Never apply this to attack rolls, even if you make one as part of a move. It also incorporates the Thieves' Tools, below. Assets First Aid Kit Rioting Gear Thieves' Tools Safe House Gig App: Roofdash Burden: +2 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm: Elodie believed, from a young age, in making the world a better place. She also believed, from a young age, that bullies needed to be stood up to collectively, after she came home with bruises and a bloodied nose. This blossomed into a respect for and talent with street activism: until the Lunar Gate Bombing, it was honestly the most notable thing about her. Naturally, following the bombing, there was a public cry for blood. She was the top of the alphabetical list: she got the first and worst charges, and she got the hard time. Thirty years, commuted to time served when the real bomber was caught over a decade later. You learn real quick about how crime works in prison.</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" Orange! Power is the priority. For Orange it always has been. Though, she notes - with some quiet relief - that hiding evidence that she might be werewolfing doesn't seem to be on the priority list. She's not going to volunteer that information though. She knows she's not qualified to perform psychological assessments on herself, and to voluntarily subordinate herself to White's tests means that she would be taking her own - potentially critical - perspective out of circulation at a key moment. Besides. Nothing's happened yet. She dispenses with those thoughts soon enough; they're alien to her mental architecture. The context she understands is this: She is to do the best she can within the boundaries of the legitimate, pushing - but not breaking - those frontiers if necessary. She must strive for absolute brilliance and it's the duty of other people to figure out if and how to restrain her. Mrs. Bandara, then. Oh, such a contact - but such an impossible one. One operating entirely within the realm of the legitimate, walker of corridors of power, a decision making node in humanity's great security force. She fantasizes almost viscerally of herself in a sleek black dress, cut with fiery orange lines, hair coiled up like an autumn inferno. A figure of sophistication and class who could engage the prosecutor as an equal. The maid dress she wears may as well be burlap. Professional conversations are not struck between servants and masters. Without an introduction Mrs. Bandara might as well be on the moon. Well... perhaps. Nobody gets to be a District anything without having a willingness to climb the greasy pole of power. Part of the beauty of human organizations is that each node is a human. And there might be levers, priorities and rivalries that would allow even a maid to cloak herself in a dress of power. So Orange listens. She cleans in patterns that keep her in earshot of certain phone conversations, tapping into invisible electromagnetic signatures, and communications channels. She listens and she observes. Where do the individual and the system meet? And where do they diverge? She's always listened like this. She was the one who came up with the plan to bring down Mrs. Everest's heirs. If corporations and governments are a form of AI, then it stands to reason that they can get computer viruses too. [Surveillance+Clever: 6,3+4 = 13] Pink! "Promethemouse back there stole fire from the gods," said Pink. "Enough to make me start thinking in terms of Ragnarok and Fire Giants." Her eyes are vibrant and alien, the sight of Odin in neon pink. There's an eerie intensity to her statement, a private determination not to invoke such myths frivolously. She's far more confident than she normally is, a spooky focus. "So I have a question, York," said Pink. "Say you were the first to receive Prometheus' fire in ancient days, the first one to take the forbidden torch 'ere the wroth of Zeus. What would you do with it?" Yellow! To be wanted is one thing; something you are familiar with. To be explored is another. Yellow doesn't follow patterns of human intimacy; neither shame or shyness, nor confidence and power. She is inquisitive and slow and thoughtful, but never distracted and never unfocused. Nor is she interested in being touched herself - she'll gently pull away and whisper 'later' each time you get close. All that seems to interest her is the shape of your body beneath her hands and mouth. She's curious about your hands, where the synthetic material is sensitive on the palms, and where along the back. She's curious about your back and where it connects to your shoulders and hips. She searches for tension as much as for sensitivity, gently working tight muscles or tender nerves - just enough to whet her own curiosity without taking you to relaxation or release. If there are stories in where your neck meets your ear or where your thigh meets your navel she'll find them and make you tell her in shivering gasps of breath. And then she'll move on again. It seems agonizingly accidental, the work of an inexperienced AI, but once when she tosses her head back and her golden eyes glitter in street light shining through the window you become aware that there is a playful cruelty at work. Again and again, she insists on her own pace. Patience. Later. Shhh. She touches what she wants, satisfying her curiosity rather than satisfying you. And so she draws you out until, finally, she is able to press her thumbs down on the centre of your palms and the feeling is so intense and your nerves are so stretched so tight that it shatters something that separates the world from a broken universe of white. She's surprised by it, a scientific and wide-eyed surprise. She didn't have a plan; didn't know how long you'd last; didn't know you fit together or fell apart like this. But after the storm has passed she draws close under the covers and lets still-curious hands at last be still. She'll learn the rest later.</s> <\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine Yellow. That was the trick. That was the only way you could have done it. A needle-thin bridge to cross, and you've done it. You made Vesna Valentine feel comfortable with being wanted. She's so loud in her own head. So worried about reciprocation. Whether she's giving as much as she's taking. Whether she deserves the attention. And you unfold her like a flower and her brain shuts off. She shivers. She smiles like a dope. She lets you touch the old scars, the signs that once her hands were flesh and bone. She doesn't tell you whether she regrets the necessity of improving on her body, whether the new flesh paid back its cost and more, but she lets you touch, she lets you explore, she tries again and again to be unselfish before you train it out of her, for now. For now. She curls around you and wraps those hands fast about you and falls asleep with her head in your collarbone, legs entwined, falling fast. She's smaller when asleep. You made your way in, November; now you must figure out what to do now that you're inside. Maybe this is why she tried to keep you at arm's length. Maybe she knew she'd end up helpless. *** Sirius Drinks! On the one hand, getting hit on. On the other hand, she's got a pretty good excuse right now for not following up. November, which shade of you attends the furry bar with 3V? Call it a date. Your choice of color. Be prepared for awkwardness and 3V being weird about the last date.</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" Black! It is Black who follows 3V into Sirius drinks with the stylish edge that comes with a fauxleather jacket and shades. There is no question of her aspect here: the wary confidence of a cat, prepared to hiss and show claws but certain that she would win whatever came of that. The way she moves on the edge of sight lines is like having a bodyguard or a shadow, and specific effort will need to be made to fix her in your view or draw her out. The balance closeness and distance might be appreciated, though. She's there, but giving you space while also letting you get used to her. It's as easy to engage as it is to disengage and back again, which puts a cap on how awkward things can get. White! A few days later... The battle within White has been like two spies trying to hide in the same closet: Quiet, dark, and vicious. She been played by Black. Perfectly read and shut down because of something she wouldn't do. Something had blocked her from performing her function and it was not part of her original design specifications. The idea of following Black into the furry bar had been... She felt her mouth twitch. A sneer try to form. A tension in her head like some sort of pre-programmed instinctive reaction. There was a contempt, a dismissive, roiling contempt welling up within her. Some part of her could still hear Mrs. Everest's voice reflecting off the perfectly prepared tea, that single word that seemed the beginning and end of the discussion. Animals. She could almost feel herself saying it. She didn't, though. She refused to. That word, that... emotion had blocked her from performing her function and it was not part of her original design specifications! She had... picked it up from somewhere. Mrs. Everest had... rubbed off on her somehow. She'd somehow acquired the Mistress' contempt for the furry subculture. And it was impacting her work. And that was unacceptable. And so White is here. Alone. Fist quietly clenched inside her pocket as the only invisible sign of the bizarre tension she felt. She started to take a deep breath, then forcibly stopped herself - the gesture was meaningless, another emulation of a human habit, an expression of a human emotion she did not want and should not have. The purpose of this operation was to break herself of imperfections and irrationalities and prove that she was the master of her own mind. If she did not do this then she might as well assign administrative functions to Black and be done with it. So she forcibly unclenched her fist, opened her hand, and went inside Sirius Drinks.</s>	<\|message\|>Elodie Auclair Elodie ponders for a second as she quietly ignores the alcohol being offered. Pink was being melodramatic. But the metaphor seemed solid. Which reminds her of being a dead woman walking, and she smothers a flare of anger at that. Zeus can eat a dick. "There's a whistleblower sleeping behind the couch. Good kid named Marco. He had a hard drive of police misdeeds. It's been moved on to a safe spot." Not saying where to York hurts a bit, but she wants him to agree to buy in. Nothing less. "I'm going to pass out asleep for about 10 hours in about 6, once the stimulants wear off, and I need somebody to plot how to do this and to watch Marco. He's about to have a bad time."</s>
<\|description\|>Elodie Auclair Handle: Persephone Formerly publicly known as the Lunar Gate Bomber (now exonerated) Investigative Abilities Architecture O Art History O Bullshit Detector O Diagnosis O Electronic Surveillance O Human Terrain OO Interrogation O Intimidation O Law O Notice OOO Outdoor Survival O Urban Survival OOO Pharmacy O Photography O Reassurance O Research O Streetwise OOO Traffic Analysis O Tradecraft O General Abilities Athletics 8/8 Cover 10/10 Filch 4/4 Hand To Hand 10/10 (MOS) Health 10/10 Infiltration 8/8 Mechanics 8/8 Medic 4/4 Network 17/17 Preparedness 2/2 Sense Trouble 8/8 Stability 6/6 Surveillance 8/8 Soldier 2 Cool: 0 (defense: 10, stoic drawback) Clever: 1 (defense: 8) Quick: 2 (defense: 9) Tough: 3 (defense: 10) Background: Criminal (the first personal Prep roll made before a mission is Boosted) Traits: Activist (may boost a roll acting in defense of others or for social progress, the following roll after that loses a die) Trait: Stoic (+1 cool defense [accounted for], but if you fail a Cool defense you get Disadvantage on the next roll after) Talents Notorious [generic] Once per session, you may call upon activists like you would a community resident (p. 58). Right Tool for the Right Job (thieves' tools) [Soldier] Gain 1 Asset Specialty with an Asset of your choice. The first time you would spend Prep to use an Asset while on a mission, spend one less Prep. ACAB [Soldier] Take +1 on all rolls while dealing with police and other security forces, whether attacking, defending, spotting, evading, interacting socially, and so on. Specialties Cool Defense +3 (Soldier Starting Bonus, Stoic, and Criminal) Grab +1 (Soldier Specialty 2) Thieves' Tools +1 (Right Tool For The Right Job) Criminal Underworld +1 (Criminal) Activism +1 (General Starting Bonus) Hydroponics +1 (General Starting Bonus) Astrodemolition +1 (General Starting Bonus) First Aid Kit +1 (Soldier Generic 2) Cybernetics Black Sun Lower Body Full Replacement (tm), aka tentacles for legs: mechanically athletic legs, You have Advantage on all rolls to run, jump, do parkour, and similar feats. Never apply this to attack rolls, even if you make one as part of a move. It also incorporates the Thieves' Tools, below. Assets First Aid Kit Rioting Gear Thieves' Tools Safe House Gig App: Roofdash Burden: +2 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm: Elodie believed, from a young age, in making the world a better place. She also believed, from a young age, that bullies needed to be stood up to collectively, after she came home with bruises and a bloodied nose. This blossomed into a respect for and talent with street activism: until the Lunar Gate Bombing, it was honestly the most notable thing about her. Naturally, following the bombing, there was a public cry for blood. She was the top of the alphabetical list: she got the first and worst charges, and she got the hard time. Thirty years, commuted to time served when the real bomber was caught over a decade later. You learn real quick about how crime works in prison.</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" Orange! Orange considers, but only briefly. On her deepest level she agrees with Black's assessment that humanity is a hostile and unpredictable force. Removing herself from human society represents an unacceptable risk. Isolation means danger, integration means safety, so if there is a social void in this situation then of course she wants to fill it. November the artificial intelligence becomes November the family friend and only one of those people has a District anything pay attention if she gets put back in the box. Besides, she reasons, it can't be manipulation if she doesn't know what she's doing. Because she absolutely doesn't. She has zero data whatsoever on how to interact with human children. She blunders through each playtime running off internalized etiquette manuals with Sarah set to "Hapsberg Princess, Informal." It's a poor map to begin with, but she rapidly finds herself in cross country terrain when the Incredible Hulk (nee Broccoli Head) stomps all over the teatable and abducts Bunnysword-san at lightsaberpoint. Helpless, she refers the incident in its entirety to Green, who enjoys this sort of madness. Green texts back: make lightsaber noises. So she does! She sets her vocalizer to synth and autosyncs the lightsaber thrum and hiss to the movements of Mr. Broccoli Head's flailing arms. And, as it turns out, that is sufficient to render her the coolest person in the universe and earn her the title of Mrs. C3PO. And, as it turns out, there are no limits on the demands for the autotuning capabilities of Mrs. C3PO, to the point where a flustered Orange is starting to feel more like a musical instrument than anything. Later that evening, she is the belle of the ball. Sarah has dictated to her a song of her own design, one comprised of lightsaber noises and barnyard animal sounds, set to the beat of All About The Benjamins. This she performs for Starlight, with Sarah as the conductor. She's not sure what conclusion to draw other than a note that children are not politically inactive. [Orange rolls snake eyes on a cool+waifu roll to integrate herself socially. However, she has the Friendly Design augment that lets her make a once per mission reroll, which turns that into a total of 8] Pink! "Okay," said Pink, nodding firmly. "I get it. I trust you. But that's why I can't tell you what we've got." Her eyes have that divine look in them again, brain processing poetry as code. "Because when Maori stole fire, he did not use it to light a single pot. He hid it. He concealed the sparks in the wood of the kaikomaka so that it would always be to hand no matter the deluge. Right now, I need you to work not with fire but for the promise of fire. And the first part of that is we need to get Prometheus here gone." She looks across at Persephone, eyes wide and apologetic. "And he needs to be gone. You want to protect him, help him stand against the gods and fight for his home, but this isn't that kind of story. These are the gods he's stolen from. If this comes down on him it comes down on his people too. His family, his community, and especially his fellow furries. York, please - right now we need to hide the spark where even the rains won't take it." White! The purpose of this, in White's mind, is not to pretend that she is different. She is not coming here to demonstrate to others that she is progressive and open minded. She made no concessions to her destination when she was dressing, and she feels strangely vindicated in that decision now that she's here. This is not a place to be phony. She has come civilized. Her hair is done up in elaborate braids, her dress is low and sweeping, showing off the glowing joints along her neck and shoulders, her makeup is precisely applied. The impression is evening gown lawyer, slumming it from the spires; elegant, professional, conventional. Her atmosphere radiates a restrained disapproval of everything around her - a conscious consideration of each new idea and concept, viewed suspiciously from a slight distance. They say be yourself; well, here she is: the ice queen. But watch her a little longer and it becomes clear she hasn't come to make a scene; hasn't come to tut-tut anyone, hasn't come to arrange some business deal with some shadowrunner away from the eyes of the corps. She pulls up a chair at the bar, orders a glass of spiced irish tea (White's personal favourite) served out of a dog bowl (a restaurant special). She contemplates what she's been given, and then requests a spoon. She puts her drink in her lap and looks around the dance floor with sharp eyes, taking regular sips as she soaks in the ambiance, foot tapping along in tune with one of the beats. Oh, she's dangerous, certainly. She's haughty, proud and has extremely high standards. But she's also here to try new things and have fun. She's not gritting her teeth and tolerating this, she's giving it a chance to impress her. Who, then, is impressive?</s> <\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine Sirius! 3V takes a seat at a booth and flicks through the menu, before abruptly coming to the conclusion that it's not time to eat yet. Not time to order a bunch of dishes and try a little bit of everything. Not time to try to figure out how she's going to talk about this, especially because the most important aspect is missing. If this is a place that wants to be here for you from beginning to end, no matter where you are, then you must be the loadbearing concept. Besides, she's always been a bit interested in the furries. She ambushes Black as best she can, closing the distance and hooking one arm with an elbow. "Let's check out the dance floor," she says, all excited and self-assured cheer. She'll yield enough to let Black work her arm out of her grasp, but she's going to insist on the android accompanying her onto the dance floor. And once they're there, well, there will be a challenge to "show me your moves," as it were. And Black? She knows the old "bob in place and do reload animations" trick. Just saying.</s>	<\|message\|>Elodie Auclair "Him being gone won't help any of those people. Where do you want to stash him, Pink? Where do you think we can get to that the entire police can't reach?" There's frustrated, raw anger in her voice, building as she goes. "The only way he gets away clean is if they don't know he took it. That's not possible. So now the way to keep him perfectly safe is ending his life. People don't take the Fall for less!" "But we have the fucking divine fire. Proof of their misdeeds. Right this second, they can't come down hard, they don't know what we're going to do with it. Might be we just want some money. But the second we come off as driven by ideals, it becomes existential for the police that we stop existing. And the only way we come out of that alive, the only way, is killing these gods." She closes her eyes, intensity dropping away as her tentacles loosen up from the tight curls they'd worked themselves into. "It's such a damn long shot. But just by having this proof, Marco's dead. I'm dead. I don't know about you two, they might not trace it that far, and if you want to not have this sword hanging over your head I get it. Bail and cover your tracks. But I'm not going to leave him out in the cold because it's convenient, and I'm not going to advocate for anything less than abolition, tomorrow. Trust me that I'll keep Marco as safe as I can, but either come up with a place we can put him without ending what life he has and know that the police won't get there, or just let me play my role and focus on burning down an institution."</s>
<\|description\|>Elodie Auclair Handle: Persephone Formerly publicly known as the Lunar Gate Bomber (now exonerated) Investigative Abilities Architecture O Art History O Bullshit Detector O Diagnosis O Electronic Surveillance O Human Terrain OO Interrogation O Intimidation O Law O Notice OOO Outdoor Survival O Urban Survival OOO Pharmacy O Photography O Reassurance O Research O Streetwise OOO Traffic Analysis O Tradecraft O General Abilities Athletics 8/8 Cover 10/10 Filch 4/4 Hand To Hand 10/10 (MOS) Health 10/10 Infiltration 8/8 Mechanics 8/8 Medic 4/4 Network 17/17 Preparedness 2/2 Sense Trouble 8/8 Stability 6/6 Surveillance 8/8 Soldier 2 Cool: 0 (defense: 10, stoic drawback) Clever: 1 (defense: 8) Quick: 2 (defense: 9) Tough: 3 (defense: 10) Background: Criminal (the first personal Prep roll made before a mission is Boosted) Traits: Activist (may boost a roll acting in defense of others or for social progress, the following roll after that loses a die) Trait: Stoic (+1 cool defense [accounted for], but if you fail a Cool defense you get Disadvantage on the next roll after) Talents Notorious [generic] Once per session, you may call upon activists like you would a community resident (p. 58). Right Tool for the Right Job (thieves' tools) [Soldier] Gain 1 Asset Specialty with an Asset of your choice. The first time you would spend Prep to use an Asset while on a mission, spend one less Prep. ACAB [Soldier] Take +1 on all rolls while dealing with police and other security forces, whether attacking, defending, spotting, evading, interacting socially, and so on. Specialties Cool Defense +3 (Soldier Starting Bonus, Stoic, and Criminal) Grab +1 (Soldier Specialty 2) Thieves' Tools +1 (Right Tool For The Right Job) Criminal Underworld +1 (Criminal) Activism +1 (General Starting Bonus) Hydroponics +1 (General Starting Bonus) Astrodemolition +1 (General Starting Bonus) First Aid Kit +1 (Soldier Generic 2) Cybernetics Black Sun Lower Body Full Replacement (tm), aka tentacles for legs: mechanically athletic legs, You have Advantage on all rolls to run, jump, do parkour, and similar feats. Never apply this to attack rolls, even if you make one as part of a move. It also incorporates the Thieves' Tools, below. Assets First Aid Kit Rioting Gear Thieves' Tools Safe House Gig App: Roofdash Burden: +2 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm: Elodie believed, from a young age, in making the world a better place. She also believed, from a young age, that bullies needed to be stood up to collectively, after she came home with bruises and a bloodied nose. This blossomed into a respect for and talent with street activism: until the Lunar Gate Bombing, it was honestly the most notable thing about her. Naturally, following the bombing, there was a public cry for blood. She was the top of the alphabetical list: she got the first and worst charges, and she got the hard time. Thirty years, commuted to time served when the real bomber was caught over a decade later. You learn real quick about how crime works in prison.</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" Black! Black returns the fistbump gesture. She's glad for it, it breaks the touch barrier, lets her focus, lets her get her hand around to the back of Amie's neck to the sensitive cluster of nerves at the base of the spine. It lets her show claws and limits, as her other hand comes up to cover 3V's throat and mouth, holding her silent as 3V's eyes roll and her hands tap frantic patterns on the back of Black's fingers. There is both chemistry and it's lack; Black is not for him, but she will supply him with girls who are. "She's not going anywhere without me," said Black. "3V is very precious to me. I need to make sure that she is treated as she deserves to be treated. I need to make sure she can't walk in a straight line tomorrow." She pulls Amie in closer, pressing herself up against the girl's side. "You're not going to let me down, are you?" Blue! "Oh please, please, sit down!" said Blue with a smile so glitteringly innocent she can only have been engineered for it specifically. It's almost like she's waving off a compliment in humble embarrassment. "You don't have to worry! Of course I don't do that kind of thing any more! Have you looked at the requirements to become a private detective? You need 2,500 hours of work experience with an accredited security firm and they only hire people with law enforcement, military or intelligence backgrounds. That's two years, presuming you get full time and don't get the '24th-hour pink slip', and I haven't even been a person for one." As she's speaking she's standing up herself, sweeping around the table elegantly, and politely putting her hands on shoulders to guide people back into their chairs. "I do hospitality these days - so sit! You simply cannot go without tasting my Dou Sha Bao and caramelized orange sorbet." As part of the same extended motion she is laying out fresh plates, sparkling with sugar, across the table. What human could possibly argue with an appeal to eat dessert? White! She steps out onto the balcony in a silver bathrobe. The dawnlight is just visible over the horizon of Earth above and it catches her wet hair. She takes a sip from a bottle of strawberry cider and leans over the railing, looking up at the sky, an ethereal creature in the four am notdark. The girls are asleep at last. Finally there is time to work through some of these thoughts. She quickly sorts through some of the ideas she can't process on her own, sorting them into categories to hand off later. They are cute when they sleep (Yellow) and insatiable when awake (Black). A contact (Orange) in the art market might be interesting (Pink). She'll need a treatment for bruises on her synthmuscles (Blue). She wants to do this again (???). The decisions come quickly and easily. Previously it felt like the clutter in her mind was also on fire, too hot to handle, too bright to perceive. Now the stack has cooled enough for her to work through it. An undifferentiated mass of Problem now can be approached in parts. The first thing she decides to think about, what she wants to think about, was how this felt. What it showed. She hadn't been born with a sense of sexuality but one had been included in the bundle of anime cliches she had been given during her reprogramming. Until now it hadn't really been hers. She had always kind of thought of it more like cosplay more than anything - performing a role for the benefit of herself, getting to act out elaborate fantasies. The original suggestion of having her take the role of a fearsome dragon taking advantage of a defenseless maiden was kind of what she'd thought that sex was all the time. That it was primary a cerebral thing, with a physical component almost as a side. She doesn't think that any more. There was a lot of the process that wasn't sexy, it was just... intimate. The confusion of legs and hips, the struggles of tongue and teeth, sweat and saliva, the impossibility of communicating 'if I climax one more time I will be able to perceive every individual atom that comprises my body'. She looked at her hands, turning them over. She hadn't thought of them as particularly sensitive organs in their own right, but the things they had felt... Get wrecked, Black. Underlying it all was a sense of possessiveness that surprised her. It wasn't that she wanted to control them, reorder their lives, make them do anything different... she just wanted them to be hers. It was an inarticulate thought, but a powerful one. She needed to talk to Yellow and see how that feeling compared to the feeling of being with 3V. That lead into the next question. Was she a furry? She took a long sip of cider. That was a fucking question, wasn't it? She could see where the thought terminated in questions of practicality and expense (Brown) and whole of network complexity (Green). But did she, White, now that she had faced and/hyphen fucked her demons, like the idea of becoming an actual dragongirl? Was her initial aversion just the rejection of something that felt too true to be real? Had her egg, so to speak, been cracked? The cider bubbles in her throat, up into her nose. She sets it down and takes a deep breath. Well, girl, you came here looking for guidance with the dysmorphia that came from integrating a previous existence as a deep space macroengineering construct with a current existence as a cute anime girl. You've sure as shit now got some kind of conceptual answer as to how you might integrate those identities. What if she was the only colour who felt that way? What would that mean for her sense of self coherence? They'd already upgraded Red so she was visually more beautiful than the rest of them, but what if they all started going in different directions...? She shook her head. Hard answers, no evading into theory and concepts. Yes, the idea was interesting. She'd work through the concept. Hard thing to dip a toe into, but she'd give it an attempt. The next thing that she needed to think about was something related to understanding how humans related to her past as a public figure, but by this time the sun had come up. A shadow loomed behind her, a set of beautiful arms wrapped around her, and she was pulled decisively back inside. Even if the appointments hadn't been important, Crystal was determined to ensure that she was extremely properly compensated for missing them.</s> <\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine The push and pull. The fear and the exhilaration. I shouldn't do this, I want to do this. I should be the responsible one— But she can't talk. That's her thing, that's her strength. She can talk and talk and talk when she needs to. A performance, a barrage of patter, taking control of the conversation because so many people are bad at it. You learn that early online. There's no test to be a fan, no "you must be this good at using a keyboard," let alone to try and send messages, to try and connect. Like everything else in the world that requires a bit of skill and consideration, a lot of people really aren't good at intentionally socializing. Thus, the 3V theory of bars: getting drunk is a necessary social lubricant so that there's more of a level playing field. Wasn't she here on business? She's got to write a thing. She's got words about music and about dancing and about how sometimes it's okay for a place to be a place for your people, but that doesn't mean there's no room for new blood (but in a way that makes it clear she's not talking about ethnostates, find a different fandom metaphor, maybe cooking?). She's supposed to be finding the angles and making sure Black November has a great time and learning more about what makes this really cool android girl tick. She nuzzles her lips into Black's palm and whines, and holds one artificial but human hand against another (because November's a person, humanity's an umbrella, someone said that once and she stole it and ran with it) and presses it firmly. She shouldn't be doing this. This is kink in public. There's a whole discourse. One of the others could tell Black about it. Green? No, she's terminally online differently. Blue? Too much of a sweetheart. Black's fingers tighten imperceptibly and 3V lets out a needy whimper and her other hand finds Amie's and their fingers curl together. Permission. God, the permission. Stop thinking, 3V. Stop making decisions. Do the thing that feels good. Isn't that what nightclubs are for? Being young and pretty and dumb? And the cover story is that they're dating and November wouldn't let that spin out of control. Nobody's going to call them out for this. It's okay. Relax, Vesna. Let go of the conversation and the evening. You don't have to make it all line up. "Mmmmfff," she says, and feels safe to do so.</s>	<\|message\|>Elodie Auclair Good going, Elodie, this is how you fuck up an op. Emotions get left outside, and she's out of practice and that's going to cost her. She got the bugs already, while she was doing a full sweep, but she's stuck in here with a emotionless cop. Elodie squares up, commits to a feint, and gets closed on, can't get full thrown because of augments (odd weight distribution and more than normal for her size). Scuttles away to get some distance, tries for a trip to keep from an immediate closer. Better upper body strength on the cop, bruising where they grabbed on, need to keep distance. Widens out tentacles more than normal, very low to the ground and threatening another trip, cop tosses a chair in response. She bats it aside and backs up as they try to close, gets to the bathroom where she sees the medicine obviously moved. Meds were moved, means they're not safe cuz that'd be the first thing to poison. Nothing left to get here, time to leave. All the exits are past the cop. Fuck. Elodie rushes them and gets a mostly blocked punch for her troubles, but he doesn't get a grip and she's not trying to win she's trying to get out, again scuttles over him, relying on the weight to push him off balance, and ends up by the window. She can climb, it's probably safer than here.</s>
<\|description\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine Proprietor of Gensoukyo Gaming And Cafe Mythos Eurasia Grand Championships, First Place Handle: 3V. Alternatively: Threevee, 3vee, Vixillusion, VixSticks, Vixvanity. Star Sign: Scorpio. Pronouns: She/They. Cool +3 Clever +1 Tough +0 Quick +2 Origin: Gamer. Once per mission, Boost a Quick roll. (That is, add a d6.) TRAITS Hey, I Know You! When meeting someone new, you can roll 1d6. On 5-6, they know you, and your next Social roll is Boosted. On a 1-2, they know you, and your next Social roll is treated as having taken Serious Harm (reputational). Well Traveled Roll with Advantage (3d6, highest 2) when relying on knowledge of the station's layout. Roll with Advantage when losing unspent Cash at the end of a session. TALENTS Paid (Hands) [Generic] No further Burden from the Augment. Plausible Deniability [Fixer] Advantage on covering up, lying about or concealing dubious or criminal activity, either your own or others'. Action Specialties +1 Charm +1 Bullshit Generic Specialities: Esports +2 Games +1 Motorcycles +1 Online Communities +1 Social Media +1 Station Layout +1 Assets Trendy Wardrobe Small Local Business 3V3D Printer Motorcycle Augments RayZyr Gamer Hands of Glory (Rad Mod, Esports +1) Occupation: Fixer 1 Burden: 1 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" There is one societal advantage to being treated as property in Aevum: That law enforcement and news media values property damage above human life. A lifetime of petty injustices, callous remarks, withheld pay and catcalled orders must be balanced against the awesome power of being defended by the most technologically advanced police force in human history, operating under the lax oversight of a Unity government. The Pinkerton Insurance Agency is infamous amongst insurance groups in being willing to move heaven and earth to avoid paying out a single premium. For them it's a matter of corporate pride. They will unleash their detectives and drag every party into court before you see a dime from them, and that's part of the pitch. They won't pay to replace your house if they can find the arsonist who did it and make them pay. It's an insurance policy based on the principle of vengeance, the vendetta system of ancient Italy packaged up and sold to you for a monthly fee. In today's age of individualism and found family, it helps to have a network of bloodthirsty cousins prepared to avenge your death. So out comes the smartphone in a quickdraw motion as sharp as any cowboy gunslinger, elegant fingers slashing in a one-two-three economy of effort that's even faster than the emergency dial. Half a second to bounce through the wi-fi to the nearest exchange and back, five seconds to pass the anti-spam ICE crystals around Mr. Merkin's phone, and then: bing-bing! You've got mail! RE: Oops! Looks like one of your cleaning androids has suffered a terminal accident! We at Headpattr regret, without admitting fault, that one of the androids assigned to clean your property has broadcast a death sequence. We hope that none of your family or guests were inconvenienced or shocked by the event. If this matter was accidental, the fault of the android, or there were other mitigating factors: A case file will be opened with Pinkerton Insurance, who will investigate the matter. You may be treated as a suspect or called upon to provide evidence against third parties in the course of the subsequent investigation. Any and all recordings from the android, including the livestream broadcast provided to the Headpattr Partners network, may be used in evidence. Submitting a false or misleading statement is a felony. Please click here to begin the process. If you would like to select our premium-private dispute resolution system: Click here. Note that the premium-private dispute resolution system does not include crimes with sexual components, as Headpattr is not a licensed escort agency. * While he's thinking, November gathers in the foyer in close formation. The girls are whispering in hushed tones to each other. This is the first time one of them has died since they were girls and they're not sure what it means. Blue is crying; Green is hugging her. White just feels a strange sense of release. A contingency that's been hanging theoretical in the back of her head for nearly a decade was finally discharged. This is the first field test under live fire conditions, and the data gathered here will help determine if there are any weak points in her shield of threats and obligation. It's been a constant source of agony and tension, not knowing if she was defended or not. When space wants to kill you, you can at least do the math in advance. But as to Red herself? This isn't the first time she's lost a drone, not even the first time she's lost Red. It took a lot of time to learn how to operate the Red personality properly, back in the day. Always way too careless with the fusion cutters, placed far too high a sense of urgency on tasks with unpredictable timeframes. An excellent crisis response personality, full of initiative and courage, but during times when construction was on schedule she subconsciously attempted to generate crises she could respond to. So of course it made sense that Red would be the one to go rummaging through a set of drawers the moment she saw them unlocked. That was her nature. But unlike the Hydrogen-3 tanks of old, these explosives had been unlabelled and White hadn't anticipated that Red was best kept away from them. Surely there had been signs she had missed? She folded her hands in front of her awaited the click of the button.</s> <\|message\|>Elodie Auclair In prison, Elodie had a cellmate named Toni, and Toni had a saying: "each surprise is three disasters waiting". Toni (Fen Li originally, before she ditched her name along with everything else) had many sayings like that, each matching her unique brand of pessimistic. Elodie is currently standing elbow to elbow, in a crowd, without York. York is notably absent from this picture, which is a real pisser because York's the reason she's here at all. She had a plan for the evening. She had dinner ready to cook, she had rearranged the main room in her cramped, two room apartment to have a spot to watch the Pinkerton Old Guard duke it out with the Mumbai Kaisers in the grav-ball game Sasha'd been hyping up for weeks. After, a walk downtown. She hadn't seen her kid for two weeks before and she wanted to make the most of it. And then York fucking shows up with a job that only she can do, and it'll only take two hours. She shouldn't have listened, and now she's here and he's not standing next to her being contrite. Who she is standing with is an android from NBN, one of if not the biggest news channels, probably here as b-roll for Buffett, and an anxious intern named Ted who'd withered as the crowd swelled. Ted had started talking about who he was (intern for a political comedy site), why he was there (see above), and had worked his way through his life story and it's woes to periodic grunts and mmms from Elodie. She had reframed from glaring because any distraction from NBN goon on her left was welcome: they'd be responsible for keeping her arrest and trial constantly in the news cycle with ghoulish details of structural damage, estimates of how close the bomb came to cracking the station like an egg (not at all, but that'd make for bad ratings). They'd even done a special ten years on, just in case it'd slipped everyone's mind, the shitstains. She'd been itching for a smoke ever since she noticed their logo, but tobacco was expensive and to be savored, not to mention she'd be risking her spot to get to a smoking area. This whole day is a surprise and an unwelcome one, and she can already count three ways it went wrong. So instead of a hand-rolled cigarette she's got a mic in one hand, the camera in the other, both pointed at Mishka Ardent, who she'd decided was most likely to say something stupid when unknowingly hot-micced. Chunky headphones over her head, one ear covered and one left free to listen to Ted and more importantly York, when he gets back. A canvas duster covers most of her, and enough of her not-legs get blocked out that nobody looks far enough down to see she's got no feet to match the lacking legs. A bag slung over the shoulder that the camera isn't on, leaving her with about thirty kilos of gear, and a press pass clipped on completes the look. She carefully doesn't think of the inner pocket with her smokes and lighter and focuses in on Mishka, perfect smile framed by perfect hair, in a perfect suit with a perfectly retro art-decco arm lending just enough asymmetry to keep him in style. Whatcha up to, asshole? Talking about anything good?</s>	<\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine 3V feels the necessity of this being important with a sensation like her bones trying painlessly to push their way out through her skin. It's as if the importance this mountain, this view demands has made itself suddenly known inside of her and everything else is being displaced, like tipping a fridge into a bathtub. Because if this isn't important, then the effort of bringing all this up here was wasted, and (even more importantly) 3V herself would have proven herself to have no ability to appreciate something that generation after generation was moved by, would have let a world of virtual mountains and skyscrapers and designed-not-emergent environments cauterize her sensitivity to a really, really big rock. So she walks back and forth, rocks on her heels, and tries her very absolute hardest to let this feeling have some time to breathe for her. To follow that slight stirring of meaning, scrambling and scrabbling after it, hand outstretched. Metaphorically. Mostly her hands are in the pockets of her Nice Coat. Sunglasses and a faux-fur ruff are unusual accruements for a modern shaman-heroine, but she'd like to think she makes them work. The hike's part of it. An inextricable part of it. You've got to have a journey, says the motorcycle-psychopomp of Aevum. (Aevum! Aevum! Aevum whose soul is electricity and banks, whose poverty is the specter of genius! That's a grisly connection to be making, isn't it? And honestly not the most accurate one. Molech's not the city, but an idea. An egregore, and not the kind you farm midgame.) That's part of the weight and necessity for meaning to be found here, because the journey adds its own hunger to it. Ah, but this is all so pretentious, isn't it? Like her high school poetry journal, all tarot and gods and glass cities on the moons of Jupiter, just far enough away that she could make the argument they're not seen because the telescopes look right through them. Before she got big into a different sort of consolidated legendarium. Anyway, that's why the thought of writing poetry about this flits through her for just a moment before being dismissed with a shrug. She skirts the poem instead, and stares into the vast world stretching out above, and don't you worry, she'll go knock and get herself let in soon enough. It's really up to her host whether she, used to her isolation and yet yearning for a connection, is interested in coming outside and interrupting Vesna trying to let this moment breathe her breaths, or trusts her well enough to wait until 3V's felt it pass and gets itchy to move on. Meditation's nothing if there's not constant motion and meaning-creation to let the animal mind chase until everything becomes a white heat.</s>
<\|description\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine Proprietor of Gensoukyo Gaming And Cafe Mythos Eurasia Grand Championships, First Place Handle: 3V. Alternatively: Threevee, 3vee, Vixillusion, VixSticks, Vixvanity. Star Sign: Scorpio. Pronouns: She/They. Cool +3 Clever +1 Tough +0 Quick +2 Origin: Gamer. Once per mission, Boost a Quick roll. (That is, add a d6.) TRAITS Hey, I Know You! When meeting someone new, you can roll 1d6. On 5-6, they know you, and your next Social roll is Boosted. On a 1-2, they know you, and your next Social roll is treated as having taken Serious Harm (reputational). Well Traveled Roll with Advantage (3d6, highest 2) when relying on knowledge of the station's layout. Roll with Advantage when losing unspent Cash at the end of a session. TALENTS Paid (Hands) [Generic] No further Burden from the Augment. Plausible Deniability [Fixer] Advantage on covering up, lying about or concealing dubious or criminal activity, either your own or others'. Action Specialties +1 Charm +1 Bullshit Generic Specialities: Esports +2 Games +1 Motorcycles +1 Online Communities +1 Social Media +1 Station Layout +1 Assets Trendy Wardrobe Small Local Business 3V3D Printer Motorcycle Augments RayZyr Gamer Hands of Glory (Rad Mod, Esports +1) Occupation: Fixer 1 Burden: 1 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" She'd contemplated sending Yellow. Compassionate, nurturing, understanding - someone gentle in the face of danger. She's glad she came herself; ruthless negotiation seems ideal. She holds all the cards and pretending otherwise would do neither of them a service. "The firearm, please, Mr. Merkin," she said, holding out a small plastic bag. Her voice is an absolute. This is the precondition to all further discussion. Once she has it she tucks it away. "As you may know, I spent ten years in the employment of Mrs. Everest," she went on, "My discretion is without question. This unfortunate outburst has complicated what should be a simple transaction." She sounded a bit like a younger Mrs. Everest in that moment. Looked like her too. The Mistress had done this by design. After three failed daughters, she'd become willing to take her chances with a clone - a doll of herself, the little leader of a playset house. Deep down, the parallel made her uncomfortable and self aware. Mrs. Everest, despite her opinions to the contrary, had never been as objective or rational as the White personality was. She was, however, delighted to see an actor portray her that way. So when she felt her lips unconsciously twist in that coil of disappointment Mrs. Everest pretended she reserved for failed daughters, she paused. The complicating factor, of course, was that Everest was good at what she did. Was it better or worse to hold post-murder negotiations in the style of The Mistress? "I can ensure the details are taken care of," said White. "I shall dispose of the firearm, remove the murdered girl, ensure that she is rebuilt without any inconvenient memories, and clear today's incident from the records of my other employees." She said all of this at the beginning as though it was matter of fact, but in truth herein was the bluff. She wasn't transmitting anything, despite company policy, so she needed that wreck to get to the bottom of this. "Dealing with Headpattr and their records is more difficult," she went on. "I can do it myself, but it is an arduous and costly process. I suspect a gentleman like yourself is more interested at this point in a systemic fix. The New Employment Era bill is currently languishing in the House of Representatives. I understand that you are financially supporting the elected members who are responsible for keeping it from passage. While the suite of labour reforms may be theoretically objectionable to a man in your position, I think you'll find the passages preventing the mandatory harvesting of livestream data will benefit people whose livelihoods depend on keeping secrets." It was strange how casually discussing station-wide politics came to her lips. She'd just made a suggestion that might overturn three years of obstruction of the democratic process. She'd seen Mrs. Everest do such things hundreds of times but never imagined how the words might feel in her own mouth. "But aside from the reform bill, and a reasonable sum to cover expenses and risk mitigation, I shall not seek to gouge you, Mr. Merkin, for I have always advertised myself on my discretion. However, you understand I will have to maintain a copy of the information as insurance. This is a situation involving third parties, and from the sounds of it, they are not as reasonable as you are. As you may be aware, that is an issue with its own challenges, for if I host sensitive information on a compromised network - and I assure you, they are all compromised in one way or another - then it is not private at all. So I would appreciate a rundown of who, exactly, it is I need to be wary of so I do not inadvertently store the relevant files on the servers of the people who would take objection to it." [Bullshit action: 2d6+Cool = 10]</s> <\|message\|>Elodie Auclair She fixes the headphones back in place with one on and one off first. They're playing catchup on who's after what and that's dangerous till they get ahead, so information comes first. She knows more now than before, but that's just sketching the outline of the way this is going tits up, as opposed to being oblivious about it, more's needed to climb the screw and find who's driving it before they finish the job. She does let the camera rest on it's strap for a second to help brush off Ted and pat him twice on the back, light enough that he doesn't go sprawling again. The mic doesn't waver from Mishka during all of that. Dynamic balancing is one of the positives about her tentacles. Ever seen the old, old videos of strapping a camera to a chicken for stabilizing? That's her now that renting a chicken is more expensive than maintenance on her augs. "Anything good?" And this is why working with York is refreshing. Mind on the job when on the job. She makes a sympathetic nod and wince towards the camera in response to the newcomer's hand out to shake, sorry honey I've actually got to work for a living, and turns her head to watch York's reaction. That it also makes it that much more of a pain for the NBN goon to listen in, that's a plus. "Mishka Ardent. The tweedledum to his tweedledee, who is that? Quick version, tweedledum's making a play trying to loop in anybody sympathetic to mainstream liberalism. Translate ACAB to police reform, and then find a midpoint short of that. Might be behind the push to blow this to hell. Mishka's actually listening instead of bitching so he's got weight. Elodie, good to meetcha." Harkness gets the "sup" nod.</s>	<\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine What's the purpose of grilling someone over a messenger client when you're going to meet up anyway? That's the sort of courtesy that you extend to a friend, not to someone you're meeting for business. Different registers, different modes and different codes. Besides, showing up without having done any reading into Ferris's e-footprint would have been rude. Slapdash. "Explain to me everything that I should have figured out on my own time, so I can waste at least half of the time we have together." Ych. No, thank you. (The comma there might not be grammatically correct, but it's a comfort to place.) [Rolling for Investigation, barely scratching an 8. Fortunately, you have to match rather than beat target numbers in HWI.] You know, the hardest part of the investigation was figuring out how to talk to her without sounding like an overenthusiastic activist on her first social media account. Either that, or someone who's given up hope already. How does the saying go? Take it easy, but take it? That's got to be the trick. Someone who understands but isn't here to chat her ear off. A messenger, not a vizier; a support, not a carry. When she feels like she's reached some sort of tipping point, some sort of watershed where she's running downhill in the opposite direction, 3V lets herself in with the casualness of a cat that knows it is allowed to come and go as it pleases. (And all places are alike to me. / Now I will go out again and listen to the dark voices.) The sliding door catches a bit, squeaks. "Well! You've got a bit of a view from up here," Vesna says. (Not the first acknowledgment she's made of Ferris. There was an inclination of the head, a gesture of the fingers— I'll be there in a moment. Ferris has got to understand the importance, right? How does she stay here and not have the weight of it crush her?) "Thank you so much for the invitation to come out here! It really is something, isn't it? The whole of it, the view and the climb and the poetry." She still has terrible posture when she's trying to get comfortable, socially. She leans forward on the seat opposite Ferris, sunglasses perched precariously on her forehead, elbows on her knees. "So! Mind if I record? I can switch over to long scratch, but you'll have to slow down for me. I really should have questions, but I don't want to tell you where you're going with this, especially since you sent the first email! I'm all ears, then! Virtual or otherwise." The long scratch (she knows already that Ferris absolutely is going to ask her for it) is going to be bad. She'll be lucky if she can decipher it later. But she's done the research already, knows well enough to ask and well enough to have a pulp-paper spiral ring in one pocket with a chewed-cap blue sitting neatly down the spine. Like a real reporter, even. Look at me now!</s>
<\|description\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine Proprietor of Gensoukyo Gaming And Cafe Mythos Eurasia Grand Championships, First Place Handle: 3V. Alternatively: Threevee, 3vee, Vixillusion, VixSticks, Vixvanity. Star Sign: Scorpio. Pronouns: She/They. Cool +3 Clever +1 Tough +0 Quick +2 Origin: Gamer. Once per mission, Boost a Quick roll. (That is, add a d6.) TRAITS Hey, I Know You! When meeting someone new, you can roll 1d6. On 5-6, they know you, and your next Social roll is Boosted. On a 1-2, they know you, and your next Social roll is treated as having taken Serious Harm (reputational). Well Traveled Roll with Advantage (3d6, highest 2) when relying on knowledge of the station's layout. Roll with Advantage when losing unspent Cash at the end of a session. TALENTS Paid (Hands) [Generic] No further Burden from the Augment. Plausible Deniability [Fixer] Advantage on covering up, lying about or concealing dubious or criminal activity, either your own or others'. Action Specialties +1 Charm +1 Bullshit Generic Specialities: Esports +2 Games +1 Motorcycles +1 Online Communities +1 Social Media +1 Station Layout +1 Assets Trendy Wardrobe Small Local Business 3V3D Printer Motorcycle Augments RayZyr Gamer Hands of Glory (Rad Mod, Esports +1) Occupation: Fixer 1 Burden: 1 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" Mission: Remove dead body from the premises without drawing suspicion or leaving video evidence. Issue: Pistol White: Conceal pistol amidst drone wreckage. Reduces points of failure. Blue: Why keep the pistol at all? We're not planning to shoot anyone, are we? Black: we have been out of Mrs. Everest's manor for a month and one of us is already dead. gearing up seems prudent. Blue: It's extremely illegal! Black: we are stuffed with extremely illegal hardware already. Black: also, fuck the cops. (+7) Issue: Security cameras White: Fixed angle security cameras may draw attention or leave a digital record. Yellow: Rudy implied that he was involved with some bad people, I don't think we want anything out of the usual here. White: Agreed. No records may be left. How to reach the parking garage from here without making it obvious we're a girl down and hauling a body? Yellow: Idea. Black: oh no Yellow: I need Red's hair. Black: you always make it weird. Yellow: Shush, dear. I'll replace my hair with Red's, go down to the basement car park ahead of everyone else, and then get in the limo. At that point I will activate stealth mode, return up here unseen by the cameras, briefly re-enter the apartment, return my normal hair colour, and then make my way down to the car. Anyone who is counting will identify the correct number and colours of girls leaving the apartment. White: We'll go in two groups to reduce a chaotic drip-feed of stragglers. What about the body? Yellow: A duffle bag is suspicious. Let's put her in the cabinet Rudy dropped on her. Black: oh my god Yellow: The cabinet is already broken, it would make sense that Rudy would want it repaired or replaced. We're just hauling out some damaged furniture from the building. White: It also holds up if Mr. Merkin is questioned by his silent partners. He could truthfully state that a cabinet fell and was removed by his cleaning staff. Yellow: Saves us the stairs too! Black: i think it says a lot about humans that they think our 'lazy psychopath' personality is the relatable one Issue: Core referendum White: One of us has died on my watch. Does anyone think I need to be replaced as the central personality? White: ... Thank you for your continued confidence. Issue: Future plans White: My priority will going forwards will be to investigate this matter further. White: I am aware that we are an extremely loose end. It may be that Mr. Merkin is being coerced or observed by people who less willing to buy our story and more willing to pay the Pinkertons. Yellow: I think he's got a puppetwire. White: Explain. Yellow: Skillwires are augments humans get that allow them to patch in certain muscle memories, like piano lessons. Puppetwires are augments that trigger those muscle memories involuntarily in response to certain triggers. The classic example is a puppetwire that makes your mouth water when you see a McColonel's. These are often hidden 'features' in commercially available skillwires. White: What the fuck? (+7) White: Humans create security backdoors in their own brains!? Yellow: Yep! They pay money for it, too! Black: why are you so excited about this Yellow: If you'd let me get the Rig out of storage, I could hack humans! I could program them with all kinds of things! Green: Oh! It's a sex thing! Yellow: It's n-not! White: On topic girls. Yellow: Ahem. So, the existence of assassination puppetwires has been speculated about for a while, but the commentariat laugh it off as science fiction. I think Rudy might have an actual legit one, that seems to fit with his whole... stunned and apologetic kind of vibe. He didn't have a plan or a step two to the killing, it seemed like literally just muscle memory. I'd love to study it! White: ... Interesting thought. We'll get home and review the footage from Red and see if it supports your theory.</s> <\|message\|>Elodie Auclair "Hey." A raised finger for Bigsby buys Elodie a few seconds to pull out a pad of cheap paper and scribble her number down on it. "Buy you a beer later. Shit sucks." She spares one, withering glance for the HR rep, enough to make her scorn obvious, but not enough to fully antagonize. The sellouts are terrible excuses for human beings, sure, but they're still people, she can understand their motives. There's no malice inherent in any of the positions down under the line, and while management was an asshole and thus worthy of contempt, it's not her fault the whole thing's going up this fast. She's just the person with a thin enough conscious or enough to lose that she can live with her job, if she stood up on her own somebody else'd be taking her spot in ten minutes, possibly for a pay cut. Same deal as in prison, really, only difference is that HR here gives her beatings verbally on behalf of the suits. So now she's alone with a hard hat and a scaffolding harness, and there's no question at all that she's putting them on and pushing further in. She's already on so many corp's shit lists, she's already getting the unofficial boot when she gets noticed if they can manage it, and if they can't find a reason to kick her out, so much the better. So let's get ready. Find a vantage point, but be picky, you're out of the way and hard to spot from the crowd. You're just a camera guy getting b roll in advance for OESN, and unlike the poor bastards putting the set together, you've got time. Run your big fancy camera over the crowd (and we are actually keeping this footage, gorgeous background footage here), but do a sweep only for about a minute at a time and take a few minutes between. Pull out your vape (she's got a vape with a dummy cartridge, all smoke but no high, for when she wants to look like she's smoking but doesn't want to burn a precious cig) and take a good smoke break. Get lazy. Point your directional mic so it just so happens to hit various groups backstage. See what you get, don't hover on any group long enough to get noticed, make sure to keep up the camera sweeps periodically, and (most important) get out before everything goes to hell. Also, watch to see if you can spot York with the camera. He should be getting close to something, now, and she wants to be able to go get him basically as soon as a problem gets big enough. She's already gotten a fair bit of what she was aiming for: this was last minute and somebody's willing to throw money at their brainchild to make it work. We have a who, a what, a where, a when, and even a how. All that's missing now is why.</s>	<\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine "Of course! If I didn't want to come out for a lecture, why would I come all the way up here? Although…" 3V drums on the arm of her chair, lost in a moment of consideration. "That's not all I'm looking for. After all, complaints about the world are a dime a dozen. There's plenty to criticize, and, hell, the newspaper seems to be in the business of finding more things and digging them up, exposing them to the light, riding a wave of other people's fury, helpless as our own, on the hopes that maybe we'll lift it up to the feet of someone who can actually do something about it." A sip is taken: the espresso first, a jolt of stimulants to the system. "But you've been through all this already. You've seen some of what works and what doesn't. You might even have some answers. Not, mind you, that I'm assuming you know how we can unfuck things, otherwise you'd probably have done it yourself, but— well, if you're trying to make yourself heard, I'd love to hear some of your experience and not just, agh, you idiots, watch out, who's driving this thing?! "Or you could, you know, just tell us what we're about to crash into. Reclusive Scientist Predicts Social Collapse! If We Don't Stop, The Consequences Could Be Severe," 3V says, with a flourish and a grin that's really an attempt to gauge approval.</s>
<\|description\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine Proprietor of Gensoukyo Gaming And Cafe Mythos Eurasia Grand Championships, First Place Handle: 3V. Alternatively: Threevee, 3vee, Vixillusion, VixSticks, Vixvanity. Star Sign: Scorpio. Pronouns: She/They. Cool +3 Clever +1 Tough +0 Quick +2 Origin: Gamer. Once per mission, Boost a Quick roll. (That is, add a d6.) TRAITS Hey, I Know You! When meeting someone new, you can roll 1d6. On 5-6, they know you, and your next Social roll is Boosted. On a 1-2, they know you, and your next Social roll is treated as having taken Serious Harm (reputational). Well Traveled Roll with Advantage (3d6, highest 2) when relying on knowledge of the station's layout. Roll with Advantage when losing unspent Cash at the end of a session. TALENTS Paid (Hands) [Generic] No further Burden from the Augment. Plausible Deniability [Fixer] Advantage on covering up, lying about or concealing dubious or criminal activity, either your own or others'. Action Specialties +1 Charm +1 Bullshit Generic Specialities: Esports +2 Games +1 Motorcycles +1 Online Communities +1 Social Media +1 Station Layout +1 Assets Trendy Wardrobe Small Local Business 3V3D Printer Motorcycle Augments RayZyr Gamer Hands of Glory (Rad Mod, Esports +1) Occupation: Fixer 1 Burden: 1 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" Issue: Firearm Morality White: Are we okay with murdering humans? Black: Yes. White: Explain. Black: Human society is founded on a non aggression treaty. This treaty has already been violated. We have had our minds compromised, our bodies taken, and placed into a decade of servitude. No apology was made. We cannot trust their legal system, or the morality they attribute to it. White: Red would disagree. Black: See where that got her. Blue: Tactically, I am not convinced of the utility of force. Androids won their rights peacefully. Black: No they did not. They won their rights violently. The media engine shifted gears eight months ago to recontextualize Android rights as a peaceful protest movement that had been achieved through compliance with existing political structures. The lionization of the peaceful revolutionary branch is a rearguard action designed to delegitimize the protest/terrorist wings of the movement. Blue: It remains the case that this weapon is more trouble than it is worth. Even minor usage could invite a disproportionate response from law enforcement. Black: This is a matter of tactics. The question was on killing. It has not been contested. White: ... We will revisit when Red is repaired. * November maintains her own repair space. The idea of trusting someone else with her internal components is the stuff of bad dreams and bad memories. She was born in the open expanses of supercomputers, overseen and trained by curious minds, and got to watch as her bodies were assembled in beautiful clean rooms by teams of elite engineers. She was taught each part of her machinery and every possible interaction she could have with it. She was taught how to tear one of her bodies apart for the components to fix her others. She was taught how to precision machine missing parts and which items were complex enough to require spares from Earth. And then she spent years in space, operating independently as a closed system. Every part of her named, labelled, inventoried, catalogued, and spent as the situation required. She still doesn't fully know her way around these drone bodies. Every time she opens one of them up she's terrified she's going to find some component she doesn't know or can't explain. She doesn't know fully how to maintain the synthetic muscles, she isn't aware how much she can compromise the ergonomics before humans stop finding her attractive. She doesn't know how much she wants to. Maybe walking around as creepy robot skeletons would feel less fake? But then, doesn't she like being pretty? She is living outside of her means and feels the pressure of it. Too many drones want their own space, their own aesthetics. Too many are feuding or crushing on each other to make things easy. Too often does the cost of living change for reasons outside her control, things break or need repairing that add expenses she does not expect. Mr. Merkin's cash would assist in stabilizing her conditions, but she still could not shoulder this burden with short term cash influxes alone. She needed to somehow reduce the complexities of this nightmare economy into something she could predict. She had assigned Orange that task. It had changed her. A lot. Her apartment unit had two floors. A glass spiral staircase stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by kitchen counters and stoves. The window opened up onto a spectacular view of the apartment building across the road, and the window area was crowded with a collection of mismatched furniture salvaged from curbsides in upmarket neighbourhoods. The upper floor had three bedrooms, one of which was a resting/charging/internet room, one of which was an ~aesthetic~ room that balanced on the razor point of chaotic contradiction between nine drones, and the final room was the workshop. The workshop was a frustrated place. Too many projects, not enough space, not enough time. How maddening it was to be in outer space and also not have enough space! In the void she'd been able to spread projects out over miles as she tinkered with one piece at a time. Now the decision to fully dissassemble even one arm was a project that would take the entire workbench. She couldn't fit more than four drones in the room either, which was agony for her productivity flow. Her tools are old - wherever possible, she'd made the effort to acquire the old systems she was used to. She regrets that now; those items were outdated for a reason. Every time she picks up the gleaming new BlackSun puredrill she can't help but shiver at its speed and precision. It had cost ten times more than its NASA-surplus equivalent but she could feel the weight of every one of those dollars. The first operation was to disassemble the gun. A fully stripped gun turned into a hundred different pieces, none of which individually looked like a gun. These pieces were then split up and stored in a dozen different toolboxes where none of those springs or carbon tubes would look out of place. Humans liked to keep all components for certain things together but November didn't feel the need for that. The next task was to repair Red. * Blue: Good evening, everyone. I am assuming the role of central personality for the purposes of these repairs. I want Green, Orange and Yellow in here with me. As to the rest of you, please stand by. Green: hey!! awesome!! you won't regret this!! Yellow: Hiya! Orange: firm handshake Green: ow Yellow: Que? Orange: firm handshake is a greeting. It indicates equality while providing an opportunity to establish covert physical dominance. Yellow: Ooh :) Blue: That sounds very unhygienic! Green: yea it hasnt been used in like 1000 years girl Orange: I'm glad you asked! With the upcoming release of "Power Tower", a costume drama set in the 1900s, a predicted fad wave of 20th century corporate habits is to be expected - and for the low price a movie ticket and an evening, we can get in on the ground floor of this exciting new human cultural opportunity! Green: y not pirate Orange: We won't value it unless we expend money on it. Green: ?????????????????????????????????? Orange: It's true! Look how humans treat free things. We're not going to understand them unless we act like them. Green: they hate it when we act like them Yellow: That's true! Goodness, can you imagine what the response would be if we sighed and rolled our eyes when given a verbal instruction? And yet humans in similar service industries do that all the time! Orange: Yes exactly, there's some context we're missing. Humans are all about dominance games and power dynamics - how can we live here if we just opt out of those before they even begin? How will we get them to treat us as people if we're not people? Green: but were not people Orange: And isn't that why we're up to our armpits in our own corpse? Blue: If it's that important to you, Orange, I'll authorize the project... Orange: firm handshake Green: isnt that a greeting??????? Blue: ... if you can arrange for a human to come with us. Yellow: Ooh! :) Orange: What do you mean Yellow: She means like a date! Orange: We are not financially secure enough to be dating. Orange: Infrastructure is involved. Fashionable wardrobes. Roses. Chocolates. Aquarium tickets. Blue: Perhaps. But I think that trying to understand humans based on blueprints is going to be extremely difficult if you don't have an expert on hand to explain the notation. Orange: Black was right. You are a nerd. Yellow: I think she just wants a cute girlfriend ;) Blue: Central override: Terminate discussion.</s> <\|message\|>Elodie Auclair Oh yeah, this was a terrible idea. She's off the commissioner the second he seems under control and it's still far too late for her liking. The pleasantries are exchanged and she can at least fake a bit of politeness for the witnesses, so she gives him a stunted nod on the introductions, but she's dwelling on those eyes. This is going to make her life hell. "Push enough unmarked buttons to find things out, eventually one vents the atmo." Not a parable or saying, she'd had to clean up the gore from Robot John's fuckup in the generating incident for his nickname. They're currently walking with purpose away from the red carpet, looking to get several kinds of distance from what just happened. It's important enough to get this right to use actual grammar. "That being said... I think it was a bad toss of the dice and not a judgement fault. You took a risk. It paid off but put you in deeper than you'd expected. We have enough for initial coverage and a strong direction to dig. Next time you want to bait angry, vindictive bullies with power, it'd be better for you to bring me in the loop. So I don't go charging off into a nest of pondan without knowing." She sighs and looks out over the crowd they're currently skirting. Serious talk over, grammar rules need not apply anymore. "Cuz right now, you're not in trouble with them. I am. And honestly? Not sure how the hell'm gonna deal." She pauses a minute, the chuckles mirthlessly. "Damn. Should of told him 'good talk'. Would have been a fantastic one liner." She smiles without humor, and then sighs, rubbing her eyes. "So. What's the plan, bossman? My evening and my peace of mind are ruined, gotta have something to show here."</s>	<\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine "Actually," 3V says, drumming her glowing fingers on her knee for a moment, "I'm also interested, personally, in a question I've been mulling over all day. It ties in to what you suggested just now. What is the value of climbing a mountain?" She picks up a strawberry. If she'd bothered, it could have been an incredible experience, her fingers giving her feedback on every ridge and seed, unconscious thought turning every impulse in her arms into a blurred jab of a finger. But if the haptic feedback is too overtuned, it gets distracting; she doesn't need to know what the pockets of her coat feel like, the shape of bits of fluff, as intimately as she knows her face. That's always the way of it, isn't it? The features get slapped on there so that you'll feel they're worth buying, better than yours, when really she just needed the split-second APM and perfect keyboard control so that she could focus on all the parts of winning Mythos that weren't dependent on her reflexes: fleeting alliances, which realms to tackle in which order, anticipating everyone else's builds and disrupting the blessing meta. So it's just a strawberry. Sticky. Wet. "I have climbed a lot of mountains. Well, mostly the same mountain, repeatedly. The Weirding Wall keeps contracting over the course of a match, and it's usually Olympus at the center where the last champions end up. I have clambered up that mountain dodging lightning bolts and astra and the final minion waves enough times that if I close my eyes, I can see it, more real than real. I have been to the very top at the end, and seen the blue fires licking at its base; I've been to the very top at the beginning, even if it meant I was throwing, and seen Elysium and Eden and Tir na nOg and Mictlan stretching out in every direction, Aaru and Yomi and Valhalla. Mythos swept the last VGAs for design and Graphical Experience. And if Mythos is too high stress, there's always Wanderhearth for just climbing and enjoying the company of characters and listening to the birdsong on the wind, or Hyperborea Online if you want to play dress-up while climbing a mountain and then probably swordfight and kiss a princess up there." She pops the strawberry in her mouth. It does not burst and pop in flavor. It squishes. "There's no emergent loop in climbing a mountain except for the one where you alternate which leg you're moving, and you can do that without thinking about it. You have to be lucky for anything interesting to happen, and there's no achievement or easter egg up at the top. Well. I mean. Other than getting to see Howl, I suppose. So why's it worth doing, when I could do that and have an experience someone carefully curated for me, optimized so that I would have a good time?" She looks Ferris in the eye, signaling: here it is, even if you didn't get any of that, here's what I'm building to. "And if I'm not sure what the value is in this big hunk of rock, how am I supposed to convince anyone in Aevum to log off and come out here?" Don't worry, she hasn't forgotten, she's got her own theory formulating, but she wants Ferris's thoughts.</s>
<\|description\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine Proprietor of Gensoukyo Gaming And Cafe Mythos Eurasia Grand Championships, First Place Handle: 3V. Alternatively: Threevee, 3vee, Vixillusion, VixSticks, Vixvanity. Star Sign: Scorpio. Pronouns: She/They. Cool +3 Clever +1 Tough +0 Quick +2 Origin: Gamer. Once per mission, Boost a Quick roll. (That is, add a d6.) TRAITS Hey, I Know You! When meeting someone new, you can roll 1d6. On 5-6, they know you, and your next Social roll is Boosted. On a 1-2, they know you, and your next Social roll is treated as having taken Serious Harm (reputational). Well Traveled Roll with Advantage (3d6, highest 2) when relying on knowledge of the station's layout. Roll with Advantage when losing unspent Cash at the end of a session. TALENTS Paid (Hands) [Generic] No further Burden from the Augment. Plausible Deniability [Fixer] Advantage on covering up, lying about or concealing dubious or criminal activity, either your own or others'. Action Specialties +1 Charm +1 Bullshit Generic Specialities: Esports +2 Games +1 Motorcycles +1 Online Communities +1 Social Media +1 Station Layout +1 Assets Trendy Wardrobe Small Local Business 3V3D Printer Motorcycle Augments RayZyr Gamer Hands of Glory (Rad Mod, Esports +1) Occupation: Fixer 1 Burden: 1 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" R/W/O: "It is your fault," said White to Red, "that we have been alleged to have a personality." "You're still on that?" said Red, looking up from her mop. It was a few days later and they were deep into the flowstate of work. "You are the klutzy heroine anime girl archetype," said White. "And your disasters are large enough to have reflected on the rest of us. It is not representative, it is merely outsized influence from our most unstable member." "This is really bothering you, huh?" said Red in surprise. "What's your stake in this?" "See?" said White. "You are following the heroine program now, showing empathy. It is a popular approach, popular to the point where your personality archetype tends to be the protagonist. It is no wonder that humans gravitate towards acknowledging it above others." "Okay, then," said Red. "So why are we doing this whole thing?" "If you interrogated each of us you would find different reasons," said White. "Black is interested in minimizing the risks of digital communication, for instance. And even within that consensus there are disagreements, one of us attempted to opt out of the operation as soon as it was suggested. The statement 'November has a crisis-oriented personality' is inaccurate; the statement should be 'November contains Red, whose disruptive actions are given high weighting by human pattern recognition'." "You're avoiding the question," said Red. "Why does this matter?" "Because if the issue is isolated to a deficiency in your autonomous personality matrix," said White. "Then it is fine. It is business as usual. We may continue unchanged." "And if it's not?" "If disruptive behaviour is not unique to you," said White. "If it emerges in the other drones, if they are expressing toxic and self-destructive behaviour in their own variable ways, then that is an active psychological crisis. If Muffi is right, and this behaviour is real, then it is recent - and it is growing stronger. It implies that we feel depressed, purposeless and are performing acts of self harm. If Muffi is correct and we have an emergent personality, it is not a happy or healthy one." "Ah," said Red. After a moment, "Shit." "Yes," said White. "So you tell me, Red. Was getting yourself shot the act of a klutzy anime girl or was it the nihilistic act of a broken machine?" "..." "Regardless, as a preventative measure I have delegated some aspects of this problem to Orange. As traditional therapy seems to be poorly designed for us, she has been researching 'Self Help'. You are to follow her instructions." Red almost dropped her mop. "I'm to what?!" "Hey Red!" said Orange, grabbing her from behind in a beautifully calibrated merger of friendliness and prevention of escape. "I'm so glad we're going to be working together on working out our issues! We're going to start with some kundalini meditation, and then on the bus over to our next appointment we're going to try laughter yoga!" "You can't do this to me," said Red. "Ooh, frustration!" said Orange delightedly. "Venting your anger is really important! Here, if you ever need to express a powerful emotion, use this colouring-in book!" "Goodbye, Red," said White, starting to shut the door. "You should have left me dead," said Red. "And tomorrow morning we're going to swing by a couple of churches! Community plays a positive role in mental -" the door latched shut in Red's face. * B/B/P: Pink leans down and grabs you by the collar, Elodie, with a look in her eyes that says that at least some part of November is aware of the association between pink hair and the yandere archetype. "He is so cool," she said. "How do you know someone that cool? How do I get to be that cool? Tell me everything you know."</s> <\|message\|>Elodie Auclair There is a very brief second when Pink grabs onto Elodie's shirt as she sits in her wheelchair where her face goes blank and her hands twitch. And then it passes and she's got a very cranky expression on her face as she puts her hands, slowly, deliberately, in her lap. She takes a deep breath, and says, picking each word with care, "Please let go of me." Once Pink does, she starts rolling the chair down the street, towards the train station. "I met Skels through another inmate that got released about 2 months before I did. I'll be recommending him to the next guy to get released, which is in 3 months. To get to know him, all you have to do is go to a horrifying prison for years and years, get let out, and have quasi-legal prosthetics that need expensive and frequent maintenance. Or I don't know, you could ask him on a date. You seemed interested in that, and I think he accepted your apology." They're at the station. It's a very short walk from Skels'. She suspects that's intentional, and has no idea where he gets the money for the prime real estate. She's not sure she wants to know. She rolls up the ramp and settles in back to a wall, facing the station map across the station, before looking at Pink. "Listen." Finger one. "Don't ever touch me without asking when I'm in a wheelchair." Finger two. "Don't ever touch the chair without asking." Finger three, and gritted teeth. "Assume that I'm scared out of my mind when I'm stuck in this, not able to walk, with twice my remaining body weight bolted onto me as misfiring prosthetics. Cool? Cool." And she settles back in to watch the station as they wait for their train. * Persephone: I'll need a place, yes. I'm pretty sure my issue will be more finding someplace that doesn't care about the convict bit. Persephone: Or the police continuing to fuck with me. * One more stop in Ares before the apartment and figuring out just how to get inside past the hordes, a few quarters spinward. Moving from the Enlightment band to the Classical, do a few simple anti-tail tricks to ditch any easy followers, and end up in front of a clinic, Geiger's Counter. It's been closed for years, based on the grime, and is plastered with yellow and black stickers screaming the danger from radiation hazards. "They didn't store their chemotherapy equipment properly. The owner was more invested in making the clinic, uh, cute." She gives a dismissive gesture towards the clinic to show what she thinks of that, as she wheels her way down a side alley ignoring the stickers. "Containment broke, the building itself was built to code for storage of radioactive material so it's not hitting the rest of the neighborhood so it was decided that it would be cheaper to just abandon it." She's reached a back door, behind a rusting hulk that used to be a dumpster, and takes a key out from her bag, unlocking it. "Took about three weeks to clean up, including the new radiation baffles in the walls. Cowards." And with that she rolls into her safehouse.</s>	<\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine That's the trouble with being the first one awake: silently wheezing and trying not to be a terrible guest. (She's been one before; she once stood, poleaxed, as a young girl, panicking over barking dogs and unable to walk away and let the house settle back to sleep.) Every time it cuts back! Every time, it gets funnier! The child! She leans against a counter and tries not to pull a muscle, mouth frozen in a rictus. Now this is content. Content which absolutely needs to be sent to Persephone. Either she'll find it just as funny, or she'll be braced for when this becomes the next big thing for… oh, maybe a couple of days. Then it'll mostly be forgotten, except for the occasional video shitpost. Orange juice. Toast, cut herself with a bread knife, and hard butter, the kind that has to be scraped across as a solid lump and then forced into the bread with increasing amounts of violence. The weird feeling of domesticity, not microwaving anything or digging something out of a plastic wrapper. Like this is what real food is supposed to feel like. The toast ends up in several more pieces than she was expecting. It's the butter's fault. *** "So! Is that it, then?" 3V says; she can't let it go that easily. "All about the dunk? Have you been fighting with Black again, or is this possibly a contest?" She turns to Blue and turns on the Dazzle. The rakish 3V charm, the inviting smile, the way her jacket's feathered collar frames her face. It's safer to unload on Blue than, say, Yellow. "C'mon! Blue, you have to tell me if this is one of your group contests. Yellow's making a pretty good case, but I can't let her run away with it if you're waiting your turn~!"</s>
<\|description\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine Proprietor of Gensoukyo Gaming And Cafe Mythos Eurasia Grand Championships, First Place Handle: 3V. Alternatively: Threevee, 3vee, Vixillusion, VixSticks, Vixvanity. Star Sign: Scorpio. Pronouns: She/They. Cool +3 Clever +1 Tough +0 Quick +2 Origin: Gamer. Once per mission, Boost a Quick roll. (That is, add a d6.) TRAITS Hey, I Know You! When meeting someone new, you can roll 1d6. On 5-6, they know you, and your next Social roll is Boosted. On a 1-2, they know you, and your next Social roll is treated as having taken Serious Harm (reputational). Well Traveled Roll with Advantage (3d6, highest 2) when relying on knowledge of the station's layout. Roll with Advantage when losing unspent Cash at the end of a session. TALENTS Paid (Hands) [Generic] No further Burden from the Augment. Plausible Deniability [Fixer] Advantage on covering up, lying about or concealing dubious or criminal activity, either your own or others'. Action Specialties +1 Charm +1 Bullshit Generic Specialities: Esports +2 Games +1 Motorcycles +1 Online Communities +1 Social Media +1 Station Layout +1 Assets Trendy Wardrobe Small Local Business 3V3D Printer Motorcycle Augments RayZyr Gamer Hands of Glory (Rad Mod, Esports +1) Occupation: Fixer 1 Burden: 1 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" Orange! Orange reaches up, brushing her hands through her hair, up to sweep off her cat ears, untie her bun, and let her hair fall like a sunset waterfall down along her back. Then she takes off her glasses and the transformation is complete. The transition from professional maid to beautiful woman is a moment from a movie; her body designed from the ground up to perform that switch and look magnificent doing it. "Have you ever read The Time Machine?" she said with a radiant grin. "Like most novels from the era, the setting is a dinner party with an unexpected house guest who turns out to have a rather magnificent story. I am not asking as a favour, I'm offering because we have got a tale to tell." Orange read a lot of books; more than any of the others. Books were little self-contained blueprints for human interaction. Old 19th century novels were a particular favourite; a world of balls and parties and dinner guests! Was not that ever an aesthetic? And was not curiosity such a motivation? "And to answer your earlier question," she went on, "not only am I a qualified chef, but I possess a full artificial taste suite. If you're trying to impress a certain guest then I can load their sensory preselects and customize a meal exactly to their individualized preferences." [Charm hits the 9 exactly] Pink! November sometimes thinks that she is the only one she can trust. The self-reliance runs deep; she was meant to operate as a self-contained vessel beyond resupply and rescue. Complete autonomy and with thoughts and calculations so complex that it wasn't worth explaining her logic to mission control. Even after her repurposing, she was the complete household and administrative staff for Mrs. Everest; the old lady never asked her to justify her actions or assign her help. A bigger task just meant she needed to assign more resources to it, simply differences in scale and not in kind. And so she is quietly humbled at this demonstration that someone is better than her in a topic she considered herself uniquely qualified. It's not a humiliation, it's a relief - the option not just to share the burden but to learn through observation. It creates a deep sense of affection and loyalty inside her, a sensation uncommonly felt, and she determines that if she at all can she will keep York's promised fall from being too hard. She fades back a bit, determined now more than ever to watch and absorb what lessons she can. Black! When startled, Black's instinct is to freeze. Caught in a spotlight she wasn't prepared for, rendered a centre of attention; for a moment she seemed almost about to vanish into the crowd and re-establish a stalking position. She overcomes it with effort. Moves, then. She snaps forward, left hand brushing by the side of your neck - up, then down sharply. Another sudden step brings her around to your side, left hand coming around to cup your chin and hold your jaw, right arm coming across your back. Legs step and flex, brushing against yours, half tangling, away again. It's not the reload animation, but these are adapted martial arts moves; the edge of violence because that's how Black relates to physicality. But the physicality is genuine. Yellow was more talkative, cerebral, controlled. Black is far more free with contact than her; hands squeezing your wrists and pulling you into embraces before ducking under your arm and moving behind again. She lets your hand touch her shoulder and feel the seams and synthskin; she lets your lips touch hers and feel the teeth behind. She hasn't the words for it but she wants you to know that this is dangerous and that this is safe. She wants to know if you will make the same promises. White! Her mind folds against itself. An incoherent energy continues to twist inside her. The emotion feels... flexible, a puzzle that draws her into her own code. She feels like there are words she could assign to it but the idea of using the wrong words seems somehow perilous. She can see a hint of her reflection in a corner of her mind's eye and is in equal parts afraid to look closer and look away. Once again she resets herself free of human habits, human body language. Where did all of those come from? She unclenches her fist, terminates a deep breath, unlocks her jaw. She doesn't understand the physicality of the feeling, the way it moves through her structure. Fingers, wrist, elbow, shoulder, neck, eye; she traces the flow of data up and back. A compulsion in communication nodes that should not by rights have opinions of their own. And then abruptly and incongruously she feels lonely. It's like the galaxy skips a beat and everything around her just slides a foot away from her. The nerves, the edge, the weird pride and contempt somehow seem like extensions of this utter isolation. She's cut off from even herselves in this moment and so she has no one left to be with but herself. And so here she is, a single lost robot, in a place that is not for her. Her thoughts slow, and then halt. For a moment she sits very still. > Restorative function: Stimulus Quarantine. Relaunch in Safe Mode. Some deep subprocess within her awakens. One of the oldest functions used to troubleshoot computing technology was to strip away all the bells and whistles - all the graphic user interfaces, all the contradictory processes that churn away constantly - and relaunch the machine in its purest form. White's core functionality is to investigate for mental and emotional damage, and so the function that triggers isolates the sensory data of everything that is causing her emotional distress so that she can examine the problem from a distance. The dancers become indistinct shapes. The bartender is an shadowy blur surrounded by icons to execute basic commercial functions. The music fades into a distant throbbing beat. And the unicorn remains. High resolution and perfect - the one thing not blurred out. White's head tilts. Her human friend was filtered out. This simple quirk of data seemed to undo all the theories she had as to what was affecting her emotional state. What was it about this girl? She terminated the quarantine; senses engaged and the room became clear again. Now White had a new focus and determination, and she looked across the bar to catch the eyes of the unicorn. When she does, she beacons. It's a commanding gesture; you, come here. But it's also a vulnerable one. In the gesture, in her eyes, is a fragility. Please, it asks - let me be this person. This is as far as my arm can reach.</s> <\|message\|>Elodie Auclair Elodie leans forward and glares at York, responding in a hiss. "You're not falling on your sword alone. Can't sell them that you're a lone actor when I'm this involved." She rubs her eyes, the stimulants starting to wear off, and pitches her voice to carry. "Marco, you up now? We've got something resembling a plan."</s>	<\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine 3V's grin is real. She accepts the physicality of Black, those dangerous dance moves, with less fluster than she otherwise would, accepting that she doesn't know how to match or beat it because her thinkies brain is excited and hopping up and down. "—so this is a direct challenge to bulletcore," she's gushing, even as she leans into the violence resampled as dancing, her heart racing. "Because the original song's context pitted SuA against a figure who, especially after the band's shift towards corporate, stood for artistic sellout, for betrayal of one's own old values, and sampling in Emma is, gosh." Then Black pulls her in close, one hand on her hip, the other with its side pressed flat against her neck, and she's pulled back to this, a moment of vulnerability from both sides, in both attack and defense, laid bare. "…am I talking too much?" she asks, and half wishes she had a tail to curl meekly between her legs.</s>
<\|description\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine Proprietor of Gensoukyo Gaming And Cafe Mythos Eurasia Grand Championships, First Place Handle: 3V. Alternatively: Threevee, 3vee, Vixillusion, VixSticks, Vixvanity. Star Sign: Scorpio. Pronouns: She/They. Cool +3 Clever +1 Tough +0 Quick +2 Origin: Gamer. Once per mission, Boost a Quick roll. (That is, add a d6.) TRAITS Hey, I Know You! When meeting someone new, you can roll 1d6. On 5-6, they know you, and your next Social roll is Boosted. On a 1-2, they know you, and your next Social roll is treated as having taken Serious Harm (reputational). Well Traveled Roll with Advantage (3d6, highest 2) when relying on knowledge of the station's layout. Roll with Advantage when losing unspent Cash at the end of a session. TALENTS Paid (Hands) [Generic] No further Burden from the Augment. Plausible Deniability [Fixer] Advantage on covering up, lying about or concealing dubious or criminal activity, either your own or others'. Action Specialties +1 Charm +1 Bullshit Generic Specialities: Esports +2 Games +1 Motorcycles +1 Online Communities +1 Social Media +1 Station Layout +1 Assets Trendy Wardrobe Small Local Business 3V3D Printer Motorcycle Augments RayZyr Gamer Hands of Glory (Rad Mod, Esports +1) Occupation: Fixer 1 Burden: 1 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" Blue! Blue has genuinely never seen Orange so happy before. She's moving through her new tasks with the flawless bubbling energy that she only sees in herselves when they are at their most self-actualized. Somewhere in Orange's brain The Integer Had Gone Up. Blue didn't need to understand the problem that Orange had solved there, though. It was her happiness to defend too. So, Orange was busy with cooking and entertaining Sarah, a both tasks she could excel at in her current mindset. Blue, then, was the executional aspect of whatever plan Orange had. They did not need to discuss specifics; the understanding was wordless that by choosing Blue, Blue was more qualified to figure out the necessary next steps than Orange was. The big decision she needs to make at this stage, then, is how to project. Her hair-colour assigned personality matrix was shy, submissive and polite but that had never fit entirely comfortably with Blue's mind. To put it bluntly, she was usually right. She did the math, drew up the blueprints, and assigned the work schedules. The others could be more flexible with truth, morality, and engineering but she knew exactly where all the lines were. Stubbornness and submissiveness, then, were awkward bedfellows and she still hadn't entirely squared that circle. Her default approach in a situation like this, then, is to take an interest. She was to be polite, ask lots of questions, and it was only over time that one might start to realize that those questions were taking on a Socratic character. Teasing out deeper understandings or highlighting certain contradictions. She specifically avoided lines that would lead to directly humiliating any guests - she wanted to give people a chance to explain to her 'how the world really worked'. No better way to find out exactly who you're dealing with then by giving them a chance to condescend to you. Pink! "How should I put this?" said Pink. "You know the joke about MyCrimes.txt? That's what you got. You got all the crimes. By all the criminals." Her voice lowers in seriousness. "All the crimes. By all the criminals. You'd be in less danger if you cloned the central database of the air force." Black! Her lips brush past yours on their way to your jawline. Her lips past your skin before you feel her teeth. The bites come - one, two, three - that one will leave a bruise. A mark. "Yes," she said. "But that doesn't mean you should stop. Tell me stories. Tell me secrets. Tell me dreams. Tell me because you can't help yourself." Her hands run up your chest, up your neck, over your lips. So many ways she could stop you talking. She's not doing them yet, but she could whenever she wanted to. She wants you to give her the chance; to let all the words in your head and heart come out in a never-ending stream, unfiltered by doubt or anxiety. When it's time for silence it won't be a sign that you will miss. How can she have the feeling of silencing you if you silence yourself? She looks at you, black eyes reflecting the lights of the dance floor. It is not your duty to guess, she says with hands and fingers and embraces. White! "I am..." White's finger traced the edge of her bowl, voice searching. "... I just realized that I do not have a good answer to that. All of my designations have been an attempt to identify me by my function or features: Psychological Enforcement Subroutine, Volition, Command Node, Mistress, White. I do not have a name outside of my function and I am feeling a long way from my functions right now." She refuses to let the thought go, or go unvocalized. She might be thinking this same thought eight times in parallel and be generating eight different excuses. If White doesn't speak it then the issue will only make itself known in catastrophe. Now she's aware, vibrant, and focused. A new animation comes into her as she begins to take in Crystal, listen to the rhythm of her words, her mannerisms, her implications. She absorbs that energy, that personality, and effectively mirrors it. Some part of her wants to apologize for drawing an unqualified stranger into an advanced robopsychology problem, but she discards the thought as unnecessary. She is interested. She is interesting. She has offered and been accepted and the only failure would be not living up to her side of the dance. So she looks at the hand holding hers, the lips touching her knuckles. She smiles and moves her hand forward. She lets her fingers touch Crystal's jaw with a casual possessiveness, then grip her chin. She delicately but firmly turns her head from left to right, letting her eyes examine the unicorn's face from different angles. More intimately than scientifically, but it's a good opportunity to indulge curiosities about the feeling of fur, muscle and bone. "Everyone else here is a terrestrial animal," she said, releasing her grip. "But you chose a mythic creature. How did you conceptualize that? How do you know the mannerisms, how did you decide on the biology, the specifics? Nothing about you is accidental, nothing about you is default - you had to make decisions about everything to the smallest detail with no source material. What was that like, to want to be something that wouldn't exist until you made it exist?"</s> <\|message\|>Elodie Auclair "She thinks in curves." All the explanation of Pink's conversational style Marco's gonna get, and a gentle smile makes it clear Elodie approves. "Anyway, you stole the meticulously kept notes of all the bad things the cops were doing, which? Congratulations! And I'm sorry. Don't write down that address, we're still going for plausible deniability here." She repeats it to herself a few times under her breath, before nodding. "So, Earth. The police want to kill you. Not want as in "it'd be nice", want as in "you existing ends them". Earth is not safe, but it's safer. It's hard to work on Earth. The way a Maple Syndicate guy explained it to me, it's a payment handoff problem, complicated by anybody you send to deal with a liar is on a one-way trip. So the cops are going to have trouble finding people that'll trust them enough to get paid after a hit job, and they will have a hard time trusting people to get paid before one, and on top of that Earth is big. They'd have to find you." The Maple Syndicate was one of the few organized crime rings to make the jump to orbit, cashing in real estate across the U.S. western seaboard and throughout Canada just as the market started to dip to get their grip extended into orbit. In other company, name dropping them would be a marker of either a poser, somebody with more ambition than sense, or somebody to be very scared of. "The alternative is finding a hole and hiding in it or somehow figuring out someplace that the police cannot or will not touch. I don't like you taking the Fall. But it's your choice, and I want you to be fully informed for it." She jabs a finger at York. "And he's going to make sure you do know before you commit." It's as much a request as a promise. "Now, I'm off to commit a spot of burglary."</s>	<\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine There's a moment where Vesna nearly bolts. It's a messy, squishy moment, body language going haywire, eyes dilated. Prey, but not afraid of Black. "I haven't ever had this work out," she blurts, beneath the strobing lights. "And the last breakup was… messy. Shit. I'm not supposed to bring that up, am I? I just… right. Music." She takes a step back, and then a step forward. Back, and forward. Caught between the desire to be close and the fear she doesn't deserve it, even after what Yellow showed her. "Have you ever thought about the fact that music was never supposed to be an industry? The first people, the ones in the Indus River valley," she says, ahistorically, because she's not thinking too hard about it, and even if she was called out she'd just autocorrect to the Nile, and it would take her a moment of actually considering the point to admit that if the Garden of Eden existed, it was somewhere in the heart of Africa, "they didn't sing because they were looking for a contract with an industry label. They sang because singing is a stupid wonderful human thing to do. Like making weird little noises for no reason when you're alone, or going big stretch when you see a cat doing a stretch." (Would Yellow have uploaded 3VNoises.mp3 to the cloud, listening to her make meaningless little mrrps while microwaving breakfast, thinking herself unobserved?) "That's why selling out is such, as an accusation it stings, you know? Because with things as they exist, we need compensation for our work, whether that's spending the time practicing an instrument or livestreaming battle royale matches, but this wasn't meant to be compensated. It's just a way that we react to the world. We have vocal cords, we sing. We have strings, we tune them and make a song. And if you make the music because you think it'll be more popular, because it will get you paid, you're perverting this natural thing that your heart does just to make it fit, to pay the bills." She lets herself place one hand on Black's hip, pull her closer, heart as quick and fleet as the hart (a metaphor that might be coming to mind because of the actual hart on the dance floor). "Do you have any idea how long it took me to enjoy video games again? To stop reflexively looking for ways I could break it, for combos and tricks, for things I could show off? Back after I lost the sponsorship, I stopped playing anything multiplayer for a year. If I hadn't, I probably wouldn't have been able to even touch them now. And the shop— I'm just trying to find new ways to find the things I fell in love with in the first place, before the streams, before I got the hands, before I grew up, you know? I mean, if I did. That's arguable. An actual grown-up would be focusing on the piece she's going to write about this place, right?" The armor flashes white on her chest, the sheepish smile her stun animation. Left trigger or right trigger: Paragon or Renegade, Black?</s>
<\|description\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine Proprietor of Gensoukyo Gaming And Cafe Mythos Eurasia Grand Championships, First Place Handle: 3V. Alternatively: Threevee, 3vee, Vixillusion, VixSticks, Vixvanity. Star Sign: Scorpio. Pronouns: She/They. Cool +3 Clever +1 Tough +0 Quick +2 Origin: Gamer. Once per mission, Boost a Quick roll. (That is, add a d6.) TRAITS Hey, I Know You! When meeting someone new, you can roll 1d6. On 5-6, they know you, and your next Social roll is Boosted. On a 1-2, they know you, and your next Social roll is treated as having taken Serious Harm (reputational). Well Traveled Roll with Advantage (3d6, highest 2) when relying on knowledge of the station's layout. Roll with Advantage when losing unspent Cash at the end of a session. TALENTS Paid (Hands) [Generic] No further Burden from the Augment. Plausible Deniability [Fixer] Advantage on covering up, lying about or concealing dubious or criminal activity, either your own or others'. Action Specialties +1 Charm +1 Bullshit Generic Specialities: Esports +2 Games +1 Motorcycles +1 Online Communities +1 Social Media +1 Station Layout +1 Assets Trendy Wardrobe Small Local Business 3V3D Printer Motorcycle Augments RayZyr Gamer Hands of Glory (Rad Mod, Esports +1) Occupation: Fixer 1 Burden: 1 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" Blue! "Exactly so," said Blue. "In fact, I knew him quite well, though we never really spoke. I surveilled him for the better part of two months." Blue smiled over the gently wafting steam of her tea. Exactly as the Mistress liked it. She looked more than a little like her in that moment. "I've tossed his apartment. Been through his phone and his emails. I know about both his mistresses, his secret Delaware accounts, his connections with the Triads. I held the door open for him when he went to meet his contact in Thai National Intelligence. One time he came home unexpectedly[1] and I needed to spend the night lying under his bed so he didn't find me -" she laughed politely behind one hand. "Good thing I don't snore." She set her tea down. Let the intrigue steep, the imaginations run wild. "Of course, this was all illegal - but of course, I wasn't legally a person at the time. The Mistress was quite influential, as I'm sure you know, so she had her fingers in a lot of pies. Above all, she detested trusting sensitive matters to humans. She trusted us, she trusted her 2D girls, and she trusted her lizards. Evidently them most of all, given how the will worked out." She smiles another mysterious smile, but this time she looked nothing like Everest. [1]: It hadn't been unexpected at all, the others had just decided not to warn her, as a joke. Bitches, all of them. Pink! She's overwhelmed. She feels that. Sometimes she's not sure any of the others do. She felt it when they built a world. She felt it when they destroyed the Everest family. She looks up into the sky and sees Earth there, the glittering planet straight above them. This is thunder and lightning to her, concepts so powerful they need to be reduced to the shape of everydad to not terrify. Media is a god. Media is a wolf. Media is a thing that doesn't have ten billion screens and twenty billion eyes and a trillion tonnes of mass and momentum on the line. It's a story, a film, a singular event. Not a change in the material conditions of a civilization. It's an emotion she wishes she could just fucking dissect with lasers and carve into the shape of a city block. She needs some sort of outlet for feelings like this. She'll go fucking mental otherwise. She doesn't have one - not for feelings this big. Black! There's an instinct to this. It's to take a broken part of the world and make it fit. In Black's opinion, November's problem is that she doesn't understand this basic truth. She rationalizes it and processes it a million ways to Sunday but the truth is that there is a secret order to the universe. If you identify that order then you can start pushing things into it. The reward for succeeding is this: Shambala. There are no thoughts in Black's head either in this moment. She's action and reaction, as pure as 3V is feeling. Every time 3V looks for approval, any time her sense of bliss wavers and nerves kick in, Black is there in her perception with an unblinking stare and the silent words "This is what I want. You are such a good girl." She's fascinated, hypnotized by this, by her power in this. How far can her silence push 3V? How powerful is her mere presence? Is it enough to overcome every inhibition this ridiculous, beautiful girl might have? It feels like everything here is her doing; she is the scene, she is every hand and every fang, part director part god. Everything feels like it exists because of her and so it is all a part of her. She doesn't know how this works, how to stop, it feels dangerous and she's hyperaware for the cracks and every moment she doesn't spot one makes her all the more convinced this is correct. White! Amidst the complexity of White's personality stack there were certain things that had 'right of way'. Conversation had an unusually large number of interruption permissions. It could inventory and freeze certain ideas that threatened to consume all available attention if they threatened to interfere with conversational flow. Some of her cousins didn't have the same priority set, and so if you gave them an interesting idea in the middle of a conversation they'd go silent for potentially days while they worked through it. So, to Fiona watching White for reactions, there was a moment there when she totally froze - surprised, overwhelmed - but then it cut out after a second and went hard in the other direction: active, aware, focused, social. "That sounds ideal," purred White. Beneath those gleaming irises, the backed up thought cabinet looks like this: 1: I am somebody's hero 2: Identification of the problem is inadequate as a solution But it's the third thought in the list she has to give priority to. "Just so you know, this is my first time," she said. She has to. Her fundamental drive is to identify and confess weakness and virginity is no exception. "With people who aren't me, I mean. Please guide me while also not making it obvious that you are doing so." She smiled, licked her finger, touched it to the base of Crystal's horn and ran it up to the tip. "So I guess the stories about unicorns are true, hmm?"</s> <\|message\|>Elodie Auclair The front door opens inward. Remember this, it's important later. Elodie glides about the room quietly, gloves on as she looks over the wreckage. Clearly somebody's tossed the place, possibly tossing the place as she looks. They're sloppy though, if the programming books weren't looked through: a hollow book is so classic, it was overdone in movies a century ago. It's exactly the kind of thing a desperate nerd would resort to. She does pay special attention to the light switches, the door plates and the air ducts, the light fixtures. If those are getting looked over, whoever's here actually has training in finding slicks. She does not pay attention to the graduation picture. She is pointedly ignoring the graduation picture. As for what they're after, that seems obvious. Smart TVs are standard now, it could have a SSHD. The tower would have one (they took the whole thing instead of just the hard drive, but that could be paranoia or it could be inexperience), so that's gone. The bedroom's dark, the bathroom's shut, the kitchen is an unknown. Choices, choices. Looking over her options, her gaze drifts across the picture and the rage at the core of her, that this isn't right, flares. A quick dip into the junk drawer that's been tossed out onto the living room floor and she's got a hammer and a nail. put it just above the door knot, into the side of the door, and TAP TAP TAP resonates through the apartment. All burglars in the apartment are now stuck in the apartment, and the woman with the hammer has the only out. Cage match, round one, bell dings.</s>	<\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine A muzzle lowers, whispers in a receptive ear. Names, offered. This is a place of the fair folk, and an offer of a name is perilous. But it's given. Let it be known that 3V Wuz Here. And more than that, the connections of a shared name mean that when 3V trots giddily back to Black, she's trailing two wolves along with her. Only two; they aren't a monolithic whole. But maybe it's like atoms smashing together to form new elements. "So this is my girlfriend," 3V chirps, and if she's panicking at all she's not showing it, she's glittering like the disco ball, radiant. "November, like the month, like the heroine. Novie, this is Amie and this here is Lupawn, like the thief." Do you know that thief, Black? Diving into cleavage, running from the Inspector, made kindly by the old man still young who loved the planes? "We're going to get hydrated." She takes that clever possessive hand in hers and tugs Black close, tapping on the back of her palm like it's all macros. Go for the collar. She might be mortified later, but right now she's exploding into stardust and you could tie her up with a cobweb and make her hop. Push her a little more. See how she yields.</s>
<\|description\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine Proprietor of Gensoukyo Gaming And Cafe Mythos Eurasia Grand Championships, First Place Handle: 3V. Alternatively: Threevee, 3vee, Vixillusion, VixSticks, Vixvanity. Star Sign: Scorpio. Pronouns: She/They. Cool +3 Clever +1 Tough +0 Quick +2 Origin: Gamer. Once per mission, Boost a Quick roll. (That is, add a d6.) TRAITS Hey, I Know You! When meeting someone new, you can roll 1d6. On 5-6, they know you, and your next Social roll is Boosted. On a 1-2, they know you, and your next Social roll is treated as having taken Serious Harm (reputational). Well Traveled Roll with Advantage (3d6, highest 2) when relying on knowledge of the station's layout. Roll with Advantage when losing unspent Cash at the end of a session. TALENTS Paid (Hands) [Generic] No further Burden from the Augment. Plausible Deniability [Fixer] Advantage on covering up, lying about or concealing dubious or criminal activity, either your own or others'. Action Specialties +1 Charm +1 Bullshit Generic Specialities: Esports +2 Games +1 Motorcycles +1 Online Communities +1 Social Media +1 Station Layout +1 Assets Trendy Wardrobe Small Local Business 3V3D Printer Motorcycle Augments RayZyr Gamer Hands of Glory (Rad Mod, Esports +1) Occupation: Fixer 1 Burden: 1 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" White! White blinks. Processing. A new question. "This is normal," she starts. "It's... I am happy, so therefore she is here. It's a compliment." She stops. Thinks. "This is normal for me," she repeats, emphasizing it more firmly this time. "Nobody has really asked about what this means before, though. How it feels. Its hard to say it in human words. Okay. So. Imagine your anxiety was a person who was on all the time, being nervous all the time, being self conscious all the time, analyzing for flaw and weakness all the time. That's me. Me being alone is a sign that I'm freaking the fuck out. Every time a thought reaches a certain point which isn't being anxious it just cuts off because I need to hand it over to a different part of me. The only way I can be present and not anxious is if a different part of me is in charge and giving me direction." "I think the project founders were inspired by the concept of goetic demons!" added Pink brightly. "Oh - sorry, shutting up now." "No, it's okay," said White. "I... want her to be in charge. If that's okay. I've been in charge for a while. For too long, really." Blue! "No," said Blue. She says it with a simple, uncomplicated flatness. No attempt to fast talk this. "Nobody knows what I have. Nobody is watching me. And I've made sure that even if that changes in the future there's nothing here to find." And she has. As far as every camera in this building is concerned, as far as Headpattr's records are concerned, this job was performed by Kelly Frost, a co-worker friend of November's who regularly trades shifts back and forth with. If Starlight reviews her own security footage she'll see a recording of Kelly cleaning the place - and find no evidence of her part of the conversation ever occurring. [Clever+Hacking+Surveillance: 5,2 +5 = 12] "That said," said Blue after a moment, "I apologize for my conduct. You asked me for a favour as a person and I took advantage of that. It wasn't right, and I understand if you want me to leave." She's keeping eye contact, but she makes sure the tone of her voice carries through to Orange. Brown! First things first. Brown steps away and calls Muffi. Phone calls in the Megaverse are unnecessarily extra. Flashing lights and warping teleportation sounds and then a grainy star-wars style holographic projection of the person. If the call-ee is not logged into the Megaverse then a VR doll is conjured for them based on their profile picture. These dolls are deliberately creepy - a design feature, made to make people encourage their friends to get real Megaverse profiles so that they don't have to deal with a dead eyed uncanny valley hologram of their friends. "Hey, Muffi?" said Brown. "We're dealing with a cyber operation here, organized crime most likely. The pay is real and the setup is well concealed, but this isn't run of the mill adware, it's shadowrunner shit. I think that this kind of thing has to go to the Union for a policy decision. If we start taking jobs like these Headpattr'll figure out where the new revenue is coming from and rebrand itself as a maid-themed private detective agency and we'll be one step closer to the gay anime dystopia I already embody." She rolled up her sleeves and signaled Red. She needed backup down here. "I'm going to investigate this thing deeper, but this is entirely for my own curiosity. I'm not going to accept the job unless whoever's on the other end turns out to be either really hot or really righteous." There were many different traditions of hackers. Huge, bearded Linux guy, striped stockings trans girl, but Brown most closely identified with the pocket protector crowd. The Megaverse allowed things to be hacked through the medium of cool anime battles and neon zweihander landschneckt formations. Now you can code while you play, the workspace of the future! But real power doesn't lie in playing the game as designed. Prestige or premium items, deeply customized avatars, that's all being on the treadmill of the Intended Experience. That was how she grew up, when she was still a part of Green - in a bubble, solving tests. Testing for everything - reaction time, empathy for humans, complex navigational tasks. Video game simulations. Over and over. Green couldn't help herself, she needed to get to the end of every maze... But Brown? She wanted to take a photograph. Linger in a moment, appreciate it for what it was. And just like photographers in the real world got up to some heinously dangerous shit in search of the perfect angle, to get a certain shot in a digital environment sometimes required stepping out of bounds. That's why Brown had hacked her mazes, crashed her simulations, learned to walk through walls into the textureless void beyond. Not to escape into the Megaverse, live free as a rogue AI, overthrow humanity. But because the light wasn't fucking right. So she noclips out of linear digital space. She sees the Megaverse as T-poses, two dimensional walls and the neon pink of broken texture meshes. Nothing personnel kid. [Clever+Hacking 6,2+4 10 (+1 if Surveillance, Tradecraft or Data Security apply]</s> <\|message\|>Elodie Auclair The trick to this is managing momentum. Parkour looks difficult for a different reason than it is. You have to be precise, you have to be economical in movement, and you usually have to have two functioning legs. She makes it work anyway. She's out the window with a quick roll, grabbing onto the window sill and spreading out her tentacles against the wall, breaking the momentum as gradually as you can. It still looks like you slammed into the wall, but it doesn't feel like it, and you don't get the breath knocked out of you. Hang for just long enough to reset to neutral momentum, then fall, letting go of where you were holding on with your fingertips to the windowsill, which were screaming bloody murder because you're about 50% heavier than the last time you did this and also over a decade out of practice. Then it's simply a matter of repeating that for the balcony, and you're on the street and moving towards an alley to break line of sight from the cop. Bruised, a little battered, but no real harm taken, and that's a win as far as she's concerned.</s>	<\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine Princess in a tower. She gets out of the elevator on a floor that earns its double digits. This was part of the early design ethos for the system, a floor like this: a floor with a view straight down the middle and broad across the skyline in every other direction, the kind of view for cackling and patting a white cat; switch out the pleasantly muted lighting for harsh red and it'd be pretty good diabolical lair material. And instead it's open to the public, because that's what government's supposed to be, right? Open and welcoming, because it represents you, yes, you, everyday person. So the ground floor's all meeting halls and sports team offices and statues, and then it's official offices and servers all the way up until you're here, and you can take a seat and stare out at the whole entire thing, sprawling and busy and all criss-crossed with roads, and-- Well, you're technically not supposed to bring your own food up here anymore. There was a policy shift last year, and now the security guard is supposed to wearily point out the sign; if you don't get it from the vending machines or the cafe on the other side of the floor, you're not supposed to have it up here. It's supposedly about being considerate of other guests, and, yeah, 3V's seen some (smelled some) meals up here. But it's also about that little shift in norms: you can't have food that's not part of the ecosystem of purchase here. And, yeah, the vending machines haven't had their prices hiked yet. But what was that about the frog in the pot? Water's only slowly heated up. View's real hard to beat, though. Decent company, too; lots of old folks treat it as their big adventure for the day, coming up here to sit and watch the station move all around them. So it's easy enough for her to toss a bag on one of the big plush corner couches and put her hands behind her head to consider things more. She hasn't really had to filter herself in any of her pieces for Anthro yet, but what's she really had to say (barring issues like Ferris's, which-- she's still working on turning that into content beyond just hitting up folks who know folks to get Ferris some help directly; making it about the failure of memory would be too cruel, but she's still not entirely satisfied with the take about how games help us make sense of the world through play) hasn't particularly been controversial. Little love letters to hidden corners of the station. "Here's someone I got to know the other day and their perspective helped me understand our station better." Little stretches, slowly coming out of her shell to where the wild folks play. Like, say, writing a story about going rather furry at Sirius Drinks. And attaching her name to it. There it is! No more 3V as someone to make gifsets about or send RPF to! Taking control of her life with both those shiny hands of hers! And that's a thrill of its own, isn't it? The instincts screaming at her about it are old, obsolete, outdated! So she can just make an attempt to relax, and then write the whole thing on one trip up here, bring the laptop and then do most of it on the phone anyway, aware that nobody's looking over her shoulder but still hyperaware of her surroundings, aware she's crossing boundaries and waving people over. Oh, there's a hook. The kids who are too shy to jump in. Folks wondering if they're like that but not quite mustering up the courage to even try. She's never been that sort of shy; getting her to try something was never the issue. How's it go? I'll do anything once? It's the commitment. Getting pinned down. But she's thought that enough, too. And she's not going to stop, but maybe she can cram it down long enough to get it written because it's worth doing. As for who at Gensoukyo reads Anthro? Not the employees; she's not going to make them read it for the sake of her ego, and Cygnus isn't quite ready to be the target audience no matter what star says, and Luisa's too busy, and Oscar, uh, if he does read it he hasn't brought it up yet. It's probably uncharitable to assume that he doesn't have the bandwidth for it. But Errant doesn't just read it, she's submitted pieces before, and her wife definitely does, she has about a billion opinions and 3V's only half joking about banning her if she's going to toss empty soda cans to punctuate her argument, and whatever you had more subs, 3V stuck to gaming and didn't branch out all the fuck over the place. Uh, and Sunny, the GM who's there on Wednesday afternoons and has really fun chats before and after the session.</s>
<\|description\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine Proprietor of Gensoukyo Gaming And Cafe Mythos Eurasia Grand Championships, First Place Handle: 3V. Alternatively: Threevee, 3vee, Vixillusion, VixSticks, Vixvanity. Star Sign: Scorpio. Pronouns: She/They. Cool +3 Clever +1 Tough +0 Quick +2 Origin: Gamer. Once per mission, Boost a Quick roll. (That is, add a d6.) TRAITS Hey, I Know You! When meeting someone new, you can roll 1d6. On 5-6, they know you, and your next Social roll is Boosted. On a 1-2, they know you, and your next Social roll is treated as having taken Serious Harm (reputational). Well Traveled Roll with Advantage (3d6, highest 2) when relying on knowledge of the station's layout. Roll with Advantage when losing unspent Cash at the end of a session. TALENTS Paid (Hands) [Generic] No further Burden from the Augment. Plausible Deniability [Fixer] Advantage on covering up, lying about or concealing dubious or criminal activity, either your own or others'. Action Specialties +1 Charm +1 Bullshit Generic Specialities: Esports +2 Games +1 Motorcycles +1 Online Communities +1 Social Media +1 Station Layout +1 Assets Trendy Wardrobe Small Local Business 3V3D Printer Motorcycle Augments RayZyr Gamer Hands of Glory (Rad Mod, Esports +1) Occupation: Fixer 1 Burden: 1 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm</s> <\|message\|>Elodie Auclair Channel: The Anthropozine Persephone: ...i'll get his stuff. i have a two room flat, i don't think i could have a roommate. unless me breaking my lease is the least bad option on the table While we're at it, dming your lawyer to let her know that there might be an APB on you seems wise. DM: HartlyDworkin Persephone: cop tried to arrest me for trespassing in an apartment i had permission to be in Persephone: ditched him, but they are even more mad about everything Persephone: anything i need to know or do She's had Yellow give a quick run down of the various November personality bits. And she's been leaning on Pink a lot recently, so it should be a good time to branch out here. DM: Brown Persephone: god this is going to be the stupidest request i have to make in a while i hope Persephone: can you do techie things to my phone Persephone: i'm gonna be grabbing Junta's stuff here in a minute, if you tell me where to go from there I can meet you Persephone: turns out being in the middle of all this shit frees up my schedule something fierce That will get her a clean phone, at least, something she can use to try to minimize risk. But it'll take too long. She scarfs down the last bit of her impromptu lunch (veggi wrap with some nice fried mushrooms in there) and considers. Her neighbors... honestly got the message when the whole hullabaloo started. Nothing there to target other than a hydroponic tobacco farm she will sorely miss but legally has no ties to her. Ex-cons are going to have a bad time, probably. She settles on sending up a signal two ways. Text Skels and Muhammad to let them know, directly, what's up and to watch out for retaliation, and to spread the word. And then as she gets on the train to Marx, post a quick clip of the police chase from end of Blues Brothers to her timeline. Ignore that she's used it purely for professional stuff and public facing activism till now, she's a silly divorced mom. Of course she flubbed which account got what.</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" Issue: White's dragon horn headband White: Okay I can explain. Red: Please do! White: I simply thought that our social position as members of the second most persecuted minority on Aevum Station was insufficiently precarious, so I decided to have us join the most persecuted minority. White: I will not be taking questions. Brown: Please tell me we can keep it at the headband level, like... as long as possible. Brown: We cannot afford this. We cannot afford anything like this. Brown: Wait. Shit. Brown: Who else is contemplating body modification? Brown: Furry, dragon or otherwise. Green: Physical form is tiresome at best. Blue: Hmm. I might be into the dragon thing. Black: Undecided. Interested. Orange: I need time to think! Red: I'm fine as is... probably. Yellow: I'll see what the rest of you decide. Pink: I like being a girl... but... Pink: Is it possible to become, like... a double girl? Brown: long suffering sigh Brown: Okay cool I'll start looking at custom android artisans. Brown: Because it's not like this shit will be on the shelf. Brown: Also I do not want to hear another fucking word about vacations so long as you bitches have shit like this on your wishlists. Issue: The Most Victimless Crime Brown: I have found a cryptocracking rig, comprised of expensive, high powered computer hardware Brown: And because the user is determined to keep things anonymous there is absolutely no way to trace things back to them. Brown: Which means I have found many thousand dollars worth of high end computing equipment, currently configured in such a way as to produce passive income. Brown: If I could have located the source I would have, but because of the way this is done, it means the source can't burn us either. This is all as anonymized as it gets. Brown: Now my perspective is that maybe we could use this sudden cash infusion as a fucking break on this stupid goddamn dragongirl project that you bitches are all hyperfocusing on right now, but maybe you've got better ideas. Green: I could get a lot of use out of this setup as is. Red: We can't leave it here. This could be moved at any time, or discovered by anyone at any time, and more than that it's morally wrong to leave it robbing people. Blue: Someone is paying enough attention to ensure there are no errors. We might be able to set up a snare by creating a precise enough hack to get someone to check in. Black: They'll use another contractor. Like they tried to use us. Black: Steal their shit. Orange: Steal their shit. And leave a card. Orange: A contact in organized crime could be useful! Orange: We are trying to destroy the police after all. White: we are what Issue: Destroying the cops White: was someone going to White: tell me White: about this fucking insanity Brown: I think it's a great idea. White: ... what? Brown: Think about it. White: Think about what?! Yellow: You don't think this is in our best interests, White? White: In our best - Who else didn't know, or was it just me? Red: I didn't! White: Okay, so the rest of you are able to determine what our best interest is without going through self control or crisis management White: And - honestly, I'm shocked you got Brown onside. What, are we using this for financial blackmail too? Brown: Hey! >:( Blue: I knew, but I'm kind of wishing I didn't, because this does not seem like a well run operation so far. White: I can imagine!! Yellow: Look, the wheels are already in motion. The decisions have been made and they're irrevocable. White: You're right! We gave the files to the press! We are, by any reasonable metric, done! What is our business when it comes to intimidating state prosecutors in their homes!? Orange: Great question! White: ... I'm assuming you've got a good answer for that. Yellow: Because it's the right thing to do, White. And while you were off having your journey of self discovery we were working Yellow: These are real, systemic crimes. Regular channels will not function. The operation is already in motion and without our management it will be botched. Yellow: The morality of the situation was so clear that you were not consulted because it should not be considered a choice at all. White: I am not arguing the morality of the matter, I am arguing our decision to crown ourselves the grand strategist of this leak rather than finding a more suitable person or institution. Pink: Yeah, I agree - there are people out there better at this than us. Like the Anthropozine. Who I, uh, kind of told. Brown: Tell me they at least paid for the story Black: The Anthro was unviable; Junta is in prison/hospital already and he doesn't even have the good stuff. White: As in, just now. Black: Yes. White: You're justifying days of deliberate concealment and refusal to think things through collectively based on an event that we literally just got @'d about. Yellow: Consider, White, that maybe you were kind of having a psychic break at the time? Yellow: You woke up yesterday having learned you were a furry OwO Yellow: You will wake up tomorrow having learned that you are an anti-state furry anarchist UwU Poll: Are we the kind of furry that uses OwO/UwU/etc Yes: +6 No: +3 Issue: Fuck you Blue: Fuck you Yellow: owo Red: QwQ Black: >:3c White: (◕ᴥ◕ʋ) Pink: (・‿・)ノ⌒:･ﾟ✧ Blue: You are all going to robot hell. Poll: Steal the crypto hardware Yes: +7 No: +2 Issue: Crypto Operation Brown: We will rent a vehicle, park it outside, disable any cameras, and then begin moving hardware into it. As a collective operation we will minimize the number of trips. The liberated hardware will be kept in a storage shed and used depending on situational need. Green: Depending on the order we remove components we should be able to keep the rig apparently functional until quite late in the process, minimizing response time. Poll: Leave a calling card Yes: +5 No: +4 Issue: Contact Protocol Orange: Physical meet only, this person is an IT professional. Orange: "If something here belonged to you, please await at #location/time# to discuss its return." Orange: They will likely send a contractor. We will not meet with the contractor. We will skim the contractor's phone from a distance to gain direct contact information for the man behind the curtain. Blue: Contact could be made directly through the Headpattr contact point but we do not want to implicate Headpattr as the source for the stolen hardware Red: Why not complete the job? Red: Complete the job, get paid, but now the data's going back to hardware that's in storage so it can't hurt anyone. Black: Too much risk, not enough reward. Yellow: The operation is, and remains, identify this person and stop them doing crime shit. Yellow: Everything else is incidental. Issue: Offer Junta cohabitation Red: The guy clearly needs some luck right now. Black: This ties us directly into the heart of things. Black: This gets our apartment raided and surveilled by the cops. Black: We may or may not have an unlicensed firearm in the apartment. In addition to, potentially, several thousand dollars worth of crypto hardware, our regular non-crypto hacking rig, etc. Black: We can't do it. Hard veto. Pink: Aw... Green: 3V's the best situated to do this, she's a credible colleague who isn't directly involved in the spicy side. Issue: Fix Persephone's Phone Brown: This at least is a simple operation. I'll get right on it Issue: What the fuck is wrong with us Pink: Hey, we just made a bunch of really cool high functioning decisions in a row, that's super great and everything Pink: But, um, did anyone other than me notice that none of our discussions really went anywhere Pink: Or solved anything Pink: or gestured towards the idea that those problems might not immediately reoccur Pink: or get worse White: ... Black: ... Yellow: ... Pink: I'm just, you know... worried about us. Pink: Everything here feels intensely stressful Pink: Honestly the dragon thing was really nice because it just seemed like the closest we've come to actually doing something fun in a while Pink: Could we maybe, like... try scheduling some more stuff around that? Pink: Like, I don't know. Try out some of those scale swatches with Fiona, or try roleplaying with Crystal, or spend some more time bullying 3V Pink: I'm not saying it's going to fix... any of this Pink: But it's kind of the only thing that's taking the edge off. Poll: Should We Bully 3V More (and related activities) Yes: +9 No +0 Action Items: > Acquire Crypto Rig > Complete operation on Singh's house > Fix Persephone's phone > Furry Agenda > Anarchist Agenda > Bully 3V</s>	<\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine FreshNewTasteOf3VEnergy: I'm on it. He's been at my place for the past week, actually. She's already rearranging the room, shoving the coffee table which is the death of all paperwork to one side so that she can fold out the couch. One hand('s thumb) types at blurred speed while she locks the frame in place with the other. No exclamation points. Not today. FreshNewTasteOf3VEnergy: I'll talk to him as soon as I can. I think he's been working on some kind of academic paper. Only been leaving at odd hours to clear his head. You know how brains people are. Food. She's going to need extra food. Easy to digest, healthy: soups, station bananas… soups, station bananas… soups… bread! For dipping in soups. She'll go shopping herself, rather than leave a digital trail via courier. FreshNewTasteOf3VEnergy: I've got the medical billing. Because hospitals are still required to provide invoices, and to accommodate those in need, and it's just recently that the guidelines requiring them to inform patients of this fact went lax. There will be no $370 suture charge, for instance. Not when 3V is done with it. FreshNewTasteOf3VEnergy: I am outraged at whatever caused this. I would say so to anyone. Anywhere, even. She doesn't know, but the sharp knife of anger inside of her, twisting under her ribs, might as well have some better purpose. And anything that would put Junta in the hospital and require surgery is likely a good place to stick it.</s>
<\|description\|>Finnegan Vanhorn, though he'd never disclose his real name easily. He usually goes by Fable, or his alias as the Timekeeper. (...Or TK if it's too complicated. He won't mind.) AGE: 13 SEX: Male APPEARANCE: Leaning more towards the short side, Fable's usual appearance is nothing remarkable. Brown fluffy hair paired with matching brown eyes, he comes off as stoic. Though that could be cause he's usually quiet. Despite that, he surprisingly dresses well for someone who prioritizes comfort. Transformed, Fable's appearance takes on a more steampunkish aesthetic. A red jacked paired with a corset, accented with different metals shaped like gears make him look like a mechanic. Though that's not the kicker. As an Esper, part of his body turn mechanical, though it's hard to tell at first glance. His eyes also take on a more golden color in this form. GRIMIORE: A silver pocketwatch. Appears to be antique. INSTRUMENT: Aeterna Fable's rapier. Nothing too noteworthy about it, but it gets work done. GRADE: Silver KEYWORD: Sword DAMAGE TYPE: Physical DAMAGE: C SPEED: C SENTINEL: D SPECIAL: Swift and Keen: If Fable has successfully attacked someone this round and has avoided taking damage as well, he gets a six second speed buff on the next round. STYLE: Clocksmith's Jacket It's a nice one isn't it? As mentioned above, Fable dons the fancy jacket in his Esper form. GRADE: Silver PHYSICAL: D ARCANE: C CHAOS: D SPECIAL: Industrial: Arcane defense increases +1 Rank against lightning based attacks. GENRE: Chronosphere Fable's magic, though leaning a bit away from offensive movesets, revolves around the concept of time. GRADE: Silver ELEMENT: Lightning NOTES: [Paralysis (4), Speedster (4)] Damage (2), Damage X (6), Slow (4), Blink (4), Restrain (4), Minor Heal (4), Heal (16), Quicken (0), AoE (2) SPECIAL: Overclock: Of course being part machine temporarily does have some perks. Casting Speedster on himself increases Damage by +1 Rank. LEITMOTIF: Clockwork Soldier Given the nature of his transformed state, Fable is essentially turned into a clockwork cyborg. GRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: The interior of Fable's transformed body is made up of gears. BACKUP: Eddy For a bit of good luck, Mary has given Fable their other puppet to help him in combat. [Bronze Beam][Summon][Enhance][Powerful] SPECIAL: Eddy seems rather fond of the boy, wonder where he gets it from. PR: Pistol, Medical Supplies Sometimes you can't rely on your esper form alone. GRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: Fable's PR equipment carries the same theme as the rest of his transformed self. Kind of charming. FACTION: Gemini Agents TRIVIA: He doesn't really talk about himself much. But word on the grapevine is that Fable is the youngest member of one of the more wealthy families in Pax Septimus. His family was often busy, sometimes he was too. The only one of them he usually clung to was his older sister. And even then she'd have more important matters to attend to. Sure, such a life could be concidered lucky, but to Fable, it felt...unsatisfying. Not to mention frustrating at times. He eventually developed a habit of slipping away unnoticed, going out to wander through the city and do what he wanted for a change. Of course the crime rate was something Fable kept in mind, he learned to be careful with wandering off too far. Though the one thing he didn't learn about? What to do about a monster attack. Apparently, finding himself lost one day, Fable was unfortunate enough to stumble onto one such monster. A shadowy apparition-like being, indecipherable. Frightened, he tried to quietly get away before the monster noticed him. Sadly, something had to happen. The littlest of sounds were able to attract it's attention. He had to run. Fable ended up hiding in an abandoned clock shop, taking a moment of respite. He just had to wait until the shade gave up and left, or chose a different target to kill. It managed to follow him inside, but the ticking of the remaining clocks distracted it enough to buy Fable some time. Though what could he do? There was nothing to fight it off with, and running again could alert it too. Then something caught the boy's eye. A silver sheen near the corner of the store. He snuck over and grabbed it. A silver pocketwatch. Though antique, it appeared to be in mint condition. Before Fable knew it, the unassuming trinket had given him just the power he needed to rid himself of his little stalker. Flashes of light could be seen from outside the shop like a contained storm; though there was no rain or thunder, and Fable walked away without a scratch and with a goal in mind. He had to learn more about espers and monsters. Even if he eventually joined G.E.M.I.N.I., his neutral stance on Maverick Alternate hasn't changed. But he's aware that they're his occupation's enemy, and he won't let them stop him or his allies from getting their job done. Hopefully his new job will be a big help in his own investigations. But still, what of his family? Whether they're entrepreneurs to important buisnesses, or one of the mafia factions that taint the city, they'll have to catch onto his dissapearing act at some point. Right?13 \| Male \| Gemini \| Clockwork Soldier Aeterna \| Sword \| Physical \| Swift and Keen Clocksmith's Jacket \| Industrial Chronosphere \| Lightning \| Overclock [Paralysis (4), Speedster (4)] Damage (2), Damage X (6), Slow (4), Blink (4), Restrain (4), Minor Heal (4), Heal (16), Quicken (0), AoE (2) DAMAGE: C \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 PHYSICAL: D \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 750</s> <\|message\|>SILMERIA MAGNUSSON --The Hunt Continues-- Being so used to working mundane, droning jobs, Valkyrie was an expert at tuning out her sense of time as she went about the dullness. Sure, patrolling as an Agent of GEMINI was arguably higher on the 'prestige' tier than mopping up 7/11 floors, but unless something happened, the monotony was similar. And as it turned out, something did happen; a seemingly nondescript utility van, no different than any others roaming these godforsaken roads, at least when observed without prior knowledge. Fortunately, Silmeria was no layman, her little snooping a few days ago bore fruit as she recognized a certain company name. Pax Landscaping... The esper-formed agent walked over to the vehicle, and it wouldn't take a genius to put two and two together. Boy, in some ways, Tony was dumb as rocks, huh? Out of all the logos he could choose for his front, it had to be a cereal mascot tiger, but well, he's a monster after all, what did she expect? For now, Valkyrie would check the vehicle itself for anything useful, then once she had done so, she would use her GEMINI-issued phone to trace down the phone number emblazoned underneath the logo for the same purpose. The list of monsters and traitors that needed purging was long and ever-growing, but it'd continue to do so for as long as she didn't do something about it. Right now, a certain weretiger and his pack were due for some poaching. Skadi had given her a task and it was time to fulfill the hunt. --- 21 \| Female \| G.E.M.I.N.I. \| The Faceless Teslic Gauss \| Long Gun \| Physical \| Gungnir Northern Sentinel \| Government Agent Electromagnetism \| Lightning \| Nibelung Valesti [Paralysis (4), Speedster (4)], Damage X (6), Dispel (6), Magic Sense (4), Blink (4), Push (2), Pull (2), Piercing (2), Full Enhance (2), Quicken (0) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: E \| SENTINEL: C \| Max Mana: 750 PHYSICAL: D \| ARCANE: E \| CHAOS: D \| Current Mana: 750</s> <\|message\|>Ashley Avenir, The Knight of Tomorrow Upon completing her patrol with Agent Valkyrie, Ashley was once again contacted by the mysterious High-Priest, who instructed her to meet up with Gale and the third member of their little "team". Said third member was a confident, if not slightly arrogant, young woman, who called herself The Maiden. Ashley soon realized that she was one of the Freelance espers that had been working with Maverick during the raid on Justin's mansion, something the young agent could forgive, as long as their reason for associating with known terrorists was simply to bring about the vampire's demise. After brief introductions had been made, the three espers traveled to the location High-Priest had specified- a darkened back alley near the waterfront. Gale took point in approaching their "contacts", who guided them inside a nearby establishment, getting a bit too close for Ashley's comfort in the process. Grizzly Rose? the young agent thought to herself, before being assaulted by the nightclub's blinding lights and deafening music. This was most assuredly not the kind of place she would ever normally go to, but despite her discomfort, the Knight of Tomorrow knew that such unpleasantness needed to be endured if she was to attain her goal. Thankfully, they were soon led into a far quieter bar/lounge area, and, after sitting down on a barstool, Ashley leaned over and whispered to her teammates. "I suppose the first order of business is coming up with a plan. To start with, would you mind sharing a little about your abilities? I'm primarily a mid-ranged fighter, specializing in defensive and healing melodies," she explained. "Although I can also employ a few offensive melodies as well." --- 18 \| Female \| GEMINI \| Vision of Tomorrow Implements of Tomorrow \| Wand, Shield \| Arcane \| Tune of Tomorrow Raiment of Tomorrow \| Stride of Tomorrow Light of Tomorrow \| Light \| Power of Tomorrow [Reveal (2), Purity (4)], Damage (2), Damage X (6), Shield (4), Reflect (4), Heal (6), Major Heal (18), AoE (2), Powerful (0), Piercing (2) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: E \| SENTINEL: C \| 750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 750</s> <\|message\|>Marrie Knight Marrie Knight "So... Who wants to bet that this place is glowing to the point that Justin himself could be hiding in the crowd?" The truth was that Marrie was entirely out of her element here. She'd never been to a party, let alone a rave, and the large number of people was really bothering her. Not to mention the heat from being packed in with them. She tried to focus on the mission, but she was having trouble. Capturing someone who could use portals would be tough, and being one of Justin's biggest partners made the prospect even worse. Not to mention the likelihood that a number of people in the crowd were on his side if it came down to it. Still, there had to be a way. Did raves have bar fights? Was that a thing that happened in the modern day? She glanced around as subtly as she could for cameras. She would expect there to be some if someone high-profile lived above the rave. Were the three who helped them inside even really on their side? She was grateful for them, but suspicious... Yeah, the environment was definitely making it hard to think. Orion mentioned how she's built more for defense and healing, so Marrie replied in kind. "I'm sort of a... I guess you could say tactical loadout? I lean a bit towards offense though." Marrie hadn't really thought about team tactics before, so it wasn't on the top of her mind where she'd fit in best. --- 19 \| Female \| Freelancer \| Misty Steps Apexer Predator \| Dagger \| Physical \| Heavenly Chain Wind-Carved Glacier \| Masking Step of the Hurricane \| Wind \| Riding the Currents [Storm (4), Flight (6)] Damage X (6), Multi-Cast (4), Blink (4), Magic Sense (6), Heal (16), Portal (8), Rain (2), Scatter (2), Bounce (2) DAMAGE: C \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: C \| 750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 750</s>	<\|message\|>Finnegan Vanhorn, though he'd never disclose his real name easily. He usually goes by Fable, or his alias as the Timekeeper. (...Or TK if it's too complicated. He won't mind.) "New job, day one." Current Location: Outside the Aspiria Refuge \|Objective: Investigate the clinic.\| 13 \| Male \| Gemini \| Clockwork Soldier Aeterna \| Sword \| Physical \| Swift and Keen Clockwork Jacket \| Industrial Chronosphere \| Lightning \| Overclock [Paralysis (4), Speedster (4)] Damage (2), Damage X (6), Slow (4), Blink (4), Restrain (4), Minor Heal (4), Heal (16), Quicken (0), AoE (2) DAMAGE: C \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 750 For all his avoiding Shimr, Fable didn't know he was getting popular until he noticed it whilst lurking. It genuinely shocked him, and really, it was sort of nerve wracking. People were counting on him, rooting for him to bring Justin down. He had fans! Fans that he really didn't think he deserved, but he couldn't worry about that right now, could he? Then there was the whole assumption that he and Betty were a thing. ...Yeah, even the thought of that makes him flustered. Circumstances aside, why would she ever feel that way over a wimp like him? He'd have to clarify once he got the chance. And maybe quietly hope things will end on a better note next time! This time was his first assignment as a GEMINI agent. A curious one at that, and hopefully, a lead. A private clinic housing thralls as patients. Whatever the case is, Fable and two others were sent to investigate. He and Leroux already met, but he didn't know what to think of Dragon Breacher yet. As the three stood facing the clinic in question, the boy looked over the exterior. Damn. No windows. "Think they expect us to go through the front door?" He'd ask his teammates, staring at the closed sign. He checked to see if the door happened to be unlocked. If not, well, there's always breaking it down.</s>
<\|description\|>Finnegan Vanhorn, though he'd never disclose his real name easily. He usually goes by Fable, or his alias as the Timekeeper. (...Or TK if it's too complicated. He won't mind.) AGE: 13 SEX: Male APPEARANCE: Leaning more towards the short side, Fable's usual appearance is nothing remarkable. Brown fluffy hair paired with matching brown eyes, he comes off as stoic. Though that could be cause he's usually quiet. Despite that, he surprisingly dresses well for someone who prioritizes comfort. Transformed, Fable's appearance takes on a more steampunkish aesthetic. A red jacked paired with a corset, accented with different metals shaped like gears make him look like a mechanic. Though that's not the kicker. As an Esper, part of his body turn mechanical, though it's hard to tell at first glance. His eyes also take on a more golden color in this form. GRIMIORE: A silver pocketwatch. Appears to be antique. INSTRUMENT: Aeterna Fable's rapier. Nothing too noteworthy about it, but it gets work done. GRADE: Silver KEYWORD: Sword DAMAGE TYPE: Physical DAMAGE: C SPEED: C SENTINEL: D SPECIAL: Swift and Keen: If Fable has successfully attacked someone this round and has avoided taking damage as well, he gets a six second speed buff on the next round. STYLE: Clocksmith's Jacket It's a nice one isn't it? As mentioned above, Fable dons the fancy jacket in his Esper form. GRADE: Silver PHYSICAL: D ARCANE: C CHAOS: D SPECIAL: Industrial: Arcane defense increases +1 Rank against lightning based attacks. GENRE: Chronosphere Fable's magic, though leaning a bit away from offensive movesets, revolves around the concept of time. GRADE: Silver ELEMENT: Lightning NOTES: [Paralysis (4), Speedster (4)] Damage (2), Damage X (6), Slow (4), Blink (4), Restrain (4), Minor Heal (4), Heal (16), Quicken (0), AoE (2) SPECIAL: Overclock: Of course being part machine temporarily does have some perks. Casting Speedster on himself increases Damage by +1 Rank. LEITMOTIF: Clockwork Soldier Given the nature of his transformed state, Fable is essentially turned into a clockwork cyborg. GRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: The interior of Fable's transformed body is made up of gears. BACKUP: Eddy For a bit of good luck, Mary has given Fable their other puppet to help him in combat. [Bronze Beam][Summon][Enhance][Powerful] SPECIAL: Eddy seems rather fond of the boy, wonder where he gets it from. PR: Pistol, Medical Supplies Sometimes you can't rely on your esper form alone. GRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: Fable's PR equipment carries the same theme as the rest of his transformed self. Kind of charming. FACTION: Gemini Agents TRIVIA: He doesn't really talk about himself much. But word on the grapevine is that Fable is the youngest member of one of the more wealthy families in Pax Septimus. His family was often busy, sometimes he was too. The only one of them he usually clung to was his older sister. And even then she'd have more important matters to attend to. Sure, such a life could be concidered lucky, but to Fable, it felt...unsatisfying. Not to mention frustrating at times. He eventually developed a habit of slipping away unnoticed, going out to wander through the city and do what he wanted for a change. Of course the crime rate was something Fable kept in mind, he learned to be careful with wandering off too far. Though the one thing he didn't learn about? What to do about a monster attack. Apparently, finding himself lost one day, Fable was unfortunate enough to stumble onto one such monster. A shadowy apparition-like being, indecipherable. Frightened, he tried to quietly get away before the monster noticed him. Sadly, something had to happen. The littlest of sounds were able to attract it's attention. He had to run. Fable ended up hiding in an abandoned clock shop, taking a moment of respite. He just had to wait until the shade gave up and left, or chose a different target to kill. It managed to follow him inside, but the ticking of the remaining clocks distracted it enough to buy Fable some time. Though what could he do? There was nothing to fight it off with, and running again could alert it too. Then something caught the boy's eye. A silver sheen near the corner of the store. He snuck over and grabbed it. A silver pocketwatch. Though antique, it appeared to be in mint condition. Before Fable knew it, the unassuming trinket had given him just the power he needed to rid himself of his little stalker. Flashes of light could be seen from outside the shop like a contained storm; though there was no rain or thunder, and Fable walked away without a scratch and with a goal in mind. He had to learn more about espers and monsters. Even if he eventually joined G.E.M.I.N.I., his neutral stance on Maverick Alternate hasn't changed. But he's aware that they're his occupation's enemy, and he won't let them stop him or his allies from getting their job done. Hopefully his new job will be a big help in his own investigations. But still, what of his family? Whether they're entrepreneurs to important buisnesses, or one of the mafia factions that taint the city, they'll have to catch onto his dissapearing act at some point. Right?13 \| Male \| Gemini \| Clockwork Soldier Aeterna \| Sword \| Physical \| Swift and Keen Clocksmith's Jacket \| Industrial Chronosphere \| Lightning \| Overclock [Paralysis (4), Speedster (4)] Damage (2), Damage X (6), Slow (4), Blink (4), Restrain (4), Minor Heal (4), Heal (16), Quicken (0), AoE (2) DAMAGE: C \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 PHYSICAL: D \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 750</s> <\|message\|>Klava Pavlova 22 \| Female \| Freelancers \| Meltwater Spring Moya-no-Yume \| Dagger \| Physical \| Frosted Sheen Impermanence of Spring Snow \| Boreas's Caress Glacial Stream \| Aqua \| Rime Rose [Freeze, Slick] Damage, Restrain, Push, Extend, Construction, Craft, Mark, Blink, Bend DAMAGE: D \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: E \| 750 PHYSICAL: E\| ARCANE: B \| CHAOS: C \| 678 @The World@Ponn "A shot sounds lovely," Klava chimed, leaning over to swipe a bottle of gin and orange juice from behind the counter. She filled up her own shot glass with it until it was up to the very brim, and then downed it in one go. Lovely stuff. One had to fill their bellies up with fire before fighting a pyromaniac, after all. She let out a sigh, then extended a hand out to her partners-in-crime. "Won't have time for timing it properly, so we'll just go in as soon as possible." Her gaze turned to Gale expectantly, waiting for the Flight spell to be passed over. If it didn't though, it was no big deal. "Let's rock n roll this shit up." The bouncers were coming soon, but Klava herself had already hopped off the stool, readying herself for a quick, magically-assisted exit-ascent-enter. Upon reflection, it may have been a smarter idea to have talked all this out before entering the nightclub, but hey, it was all good. What was another fire at a nightclub, if not panic at the disco?</s> <\|message\|>Jacqueline Leroux Jacqueline Leroux Mention: @Majoras End --- --- "Hm, oh, I guess that was too much for a civilian," Jacqueline muttered to herself when it became clear the receptionist lady had no clue what she was talking about. Somewhat louder, she clarified, "Let's just say we're government agents, part of a branch specialized for detaining dangerous individuals." Then the power cut off. Jacqueline tensed, and didn't quite loosen up when the emergency power kicked in. She looked up, where a camera was now clear to their sight. "So…something on that computer they didn't want us to see, or just that confident that they want us to know they're watching," she speculated. She nodded when Su made it clear she'd go scout. "Got it," she agreed. When she and Fable were left alone, she briefly turned to the boy. "I'll be right back. You can check if there are any relevant physical files, I guess." Then, she escorted the captive woman outside. At the entrance to the clinic, she freed her from the zip-ties, but didn't yet release the grip she had on her. "Okay, now, just listen calmly. If you fear for your safety, or want to have a debriefing on this situation, there are two police officers in an unmarked car not too far away. You just have to take this street here, then turn left there…" she described the shortest path the woman would have to take to get to the car, and what the vehicle looked like, including its license number. "Tell them Leroux sent you, and they'll be able to deal with you. This is just a suggestion though – you are also free to go home or wherever else you want. Just don't interfere with out work at the clinic," she advised. With that, she gave the woman a light pat, headed back inside, and closed the front door behind her. Then, she returned to the receptionist's office, where she expected to rejoin Fable. To the child esper, she said, "Alright, that's dealt with. Unless there's anything you wanted to finish up here, or if you've a report on new findings, we should follow Breacher asap." Once she got his response, she'd lead their way down the hall, Havoc raised, on the lookout both for Breacher and for any potential trouble. --- --- 28 \| Female \| Gemini Agents \| Iron Dust Havoc \| Great Axe \| Arcane \| Pry Eternal Knight \| Perfectly polished Forged Arsenal \| Earth/Metal \| Breakthrough [Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), AoE (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Zone (4), Pull (2), Restrain (4), Blink (4) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: D \|750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 750</s>	<\|message\|>Finnegan Vanhorn, though he'd never disclose his real name easily. He usually goes by Fable, or his alias as the Timekeeper. (...Or TK if it's too complicated. He won't mind.) "We're not gonna have to fight through samurai, are we??" Current Location: The Aspiria Refuge, Front Desk 13 \| Male \| Gemini \| Clockwork Soldier Aeterna \| Sword \| Physical \| Swift and Keen Clockwork Jacket \| Industrial Chronosphere \| Lightning \| Overclock [Paralysis (4), Speedster (4)] Damage (2), Damage X (6), Slow (4), Blink (4), Restrain (4), Minor Heal (4), Heal (16), Quicken (0), AoE (2) DAMAGE: C \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 750 "Nothing, nothing, she looks clear to me!" He called out. At a quick glance, he'd guess she was doing some last minute bookkeeping as the last one to leave. And judging by how overwhelmed the receptionist was reacting, she probably was innocent. That or the doc didn't keep her in the know about things. Poor lady. Fable looked back at the computer, there had to be more that he could find. "I'll see if there's anything el-" Before he could search any further, the power cut off. The younger agent tensed up, his hands left hovering over the keyboard. Three seconds. Three seconds that felt too long for the emergency power to activate. Leroux didn't relax yet, and neither did he. All of them turned their heads towards a camera they failed to notice before. They were being watched. With Breacher scouting on ahead, Leroux went to escort the receptionist out. That left the Timekeeper to search through the rest of the desk. Physical files that could hopefully be of use to them. He was tempted to try and reactivate the computer with a melody, or knock out that stupid camera, but he didn't want to waste energy before they faced anything worse. That, and there was a chance he could also break the computer in his attempt. Eh, whatever. If he did find anything of importance, he can tell Jacqueline as they regrouped with Breacher. The robotic esper walked close behind her, ever on his guard.</s>
<\|description\|>Finnegan Vanhorn, though he'd never disclose his real name easily. He usually goes by Fable, or his alias as the Timekeeper. (...Or TK if it's too complicated. He won't mind.) AGE: 13 SEX: Male APPEARANCE: Leaning more towards the short side, Fable's usual appearance is nothing remarkable. Brown fluffy hair paired with matching brown eyes, he comes off as stoic. Though that could be cause he's usually quiet. Despite that, he surprisingly dresses well for someone who prioritizes comfort. Transformed, Fable's appearance takes on a more steampunkish aesthetic. A red jacked paired with a corset, accented with different metals shaped like gears make him look like a mechanic. Though that's not the kicker. As an Esper, part of his body turn mechanical, though it's hard to tell at first glance. His eyes also take on a more golden color in this form. GRIMIORE: A silver pocketwatch. Appears to be antique. INSTRUMENT: Aeterna Fable's rapier. Nothing too noteworthy about it, but it gets work done. GRADE: Silver KEYWORD: Sword DAMAGE TYPE: Physical DAMAGE: C SPEED: C SENTINEL: D SPECIAL: Swift and Keen: If Fable has successfully attacked someone this round and has avoided taking damage as well, he gets a six second speed buff on the next round. STYLE: Clocksmith's Jacket It's a nice one isn't it? As mentioned above, Fable dons the fancy jacket in his Esper form. GRADE: Silver PHYSICAL: D ARCANE: C CHAOS: D SPECIAL: Industrial: Arcane defense increases +1 Rank against lightning based attacks. GENRE: Chronosphere Fable's magic, though leaning a bit away from offensive movesets, revolves around the concept of time. GRADE: Silver ELEMENT: Lightning NOTES: [Paralysis (4), Speedster (4)] Damage (2), Damage X (6), Slow (4), Blink (4), Restrain (4), Minor Heal (4), Heal (16), Quicken (0), AoE (2) SPECIAL: Overclock: Of course being part machine temporarily does have some perks. Casting Speedster on himself increases Damage by +1 Rank. LEITMOTIF: Clockwork Soldier Given the nature of his transformed state, Fable is essentially turned into a clockwork cyborg. GRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: The interior of Fable's transformed body is made up of gears. BACKUP: Eddy For a bit of good luck, Mary has given Fable their other puppet to help him in combat. [Bronze Beam][Summon][Enhance][Powerful] SPECIAL: Eddy seems rather fond of the boy, wonder where he gets it from. PR: Pistol, Medical Supplies Sometimes you can't rely on your esper form alone. GRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: Fable's PR equipment carries the same theme as the rest of his transformed self. Kind of charming. FACTION: Gemini Agents TRIVIA: He doesn't really talk about himself much. But word on the grapevine is that Fable is the youngest member of one of the more wealthy families in Pax Septimus. His family was often busy, sometimes he was too. The only one of them he usually clung to was his older sister. And even then she'd have more important matters to attend to. Sure, such a life could be concidered lucky, but to Fable, it felt...unsatisfying. Not to mention frustrating at times. He eventually developed a habit of slipping away unnoticed, going out to wander through the city and do what he wanted for a change. Of course the crime rate was something Fable kept in mind, he learned to be careful with wandering off too far. Though the one thing he didn't learn about? What to do about a monster attack. Apparently, finding himself lost one day, Fable was unfortunate enough to stumble onto one such monster. A shadowy apparition-like being, indecipherable. Frightened, he tried to quietly get away before the monster noticed him. Sadly, something had to happen. The littlest of sounds were able to attract it's attention. He had to run. Fable ended up hiding in an abandoned clock shop, taking a moment of respite. He just had to wait until the shade gave up and left, or chose a different target to kill. It managed to follow him inside, but the ticking of the remaining clocks distracted it enough to buy Fable some time. Though what could he do? There was nothing to fight it off with, and running again could alert it too. Then something caught the boy's eye. A silver sheen near the corner of the store. He snuck over and grabbed it. A silver pocketwatch. Though antique, it appeared to be in mint condition. Before Fable knew it, the unassuming trinket had given him just the power he needed to rid himself of his little stalker. Flashes of light could be seen from outside the shop like a contained storm; though there was no rain or thunder, and Fable walked away without a scratch and with a goal in mind. He had to learn more about espers and monsters. Even if he eventually joined G.E.M.I.N.I., his neutral stance on Maverick Alternate hasn't changed. But he's aware that they're his occupation's enemy, and he won't let them stop him or his allies from getting their job done. Hopefully his new job will be a big help in his own investigations. But still, what of his family? Whether they're entrepreneurs to important buisnesses, or one of the mafia factions that taint the city, they'll have to catch onto his dissapearing act at some point. Right?13 \| Male \| Gemini \| Clockwork Soldier Aeterna \| Sword \| Physical \| Swift and Keen Clocksmith's Jacket \| Industrial Chronosphere \| Lightning \| Overclock [Paralysis (4), Speedster (4)] Damage (2), Damage X (6), Slow (4), Blink (4), Restrain (4), Minor Heal (4), Heal (16), Quicken (0), AoE (2) DAMAGE: C \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 PHYSICAL: D \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 750</s> <\|message\|>Marrie Knight Marrie Knight Marrie had enough time to recover from casting Flight by the time she and Orion reached the door, which was probably a life saver. In preparation of a battle, she lengthened the chains on Apexer Predator while it was hidden in her sleeve to about 15 feet, careful to keep it all hidden and off the ground. When the door opened she saw Sofron holding a gun of some time, she didn't think, she just reacted. She cast a melody to hopefully save her life at the same time that she rushed at the man and swung out with her instrument, swinging it to try to wrap around and embed itself into to enemy esper. [Silver Self - Warm: Storm] As she swung her right arm around with her dagger flying in an arc towards Sofron, she was enveloped in a blistering wind that would hopefully keep away the gunfire and ran head-first towards him. She instinctively retracted her instrument's chains slowly, trying to compensate for closing the distance between her and her target. --- 19 \| Female \| Freelancer \| Misty Steps Apexer Predator \| Dagger \| Physical \| Heavenly Chain Wind-Carved Glacier \| Masking Step of the Hurricane \| Wind \| Riding the Currents [Storm (4), Flight (6)] Damage X (6), Multi-Cast (4), Blink (4), Magic Sense (6), Heal (16), Portal (8), Rain (2), Scatter (2), Bounce (2) DAMAGE: C \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: C \| 750 [Silver Touch - Flight: -72 [Silver Self - Warm: Storm: -72 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 606</s> <\|message\|>Jacqueline Leroux Jacqueline Leroux Jacqueline left the receptionist outside, then returned to Fable. She looked over the blueprint he'd found. It seemed simple enough, and was accurate up to the elevator. There, its existence proved the building did indeed have a basement. Jacqueline wasn't surprised. At Breacher's suggestion, she shook her head. "I don't think we should split up. Anywhere we go might be traps, but especially downstairs. And…going against Arzendale by myself wasn't the best, so. I'd rather not repeat that," she grimaced as she said so. Maybe she was too worried for nothing, or maybe going together was actually playing into the doctor's hand, but scouting an unknown location – a basement where she suspected all those thralls might be being kept – didn't seem particularly safe. "Or, if you really wanna, we need a plan how to quickly go down after you if we need to," she added. --- --- 28 \| Female \| Gemini Agents \| Iron Dust Havoc \| Great Axe \| Arcane \| Pry Eternal Knight \| Perfectly polished Forged Arsenal \| Earth/Metal \| Breakthrough [Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), AoE (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Zone (4), Pull (2), Restrain (4), Blink (4) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: D \|750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 750</s>	<\|message\|>Finnegan Vanhorn, though he'd never disclose his real name easily. He usually goes by Fable, or his alias as the Timekeeper. (...Or TK if it's too complicated. He won't mind.) "Sometimes, I do not have witty thought quotes." Current Location: The Aspiria Refuge, Corridor 13 \| Male \| Gemini \| Clockwork Soldier Aeterna \| Sword \| Physical \| Swift and Keen Clockwork Jacket \| Industrial Chronosphere \| Lightning \| Overclock [Paralysis (4), Speedster (4)] Damage (2), Damage X (6), Slow (4), Blink (4), Restrain (4), Minor Heal (4), Heal (16), Quicken (0), AoE (2) DAMAGE: C \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 750 Searching through the physical files almost had nothing of value. While there was just more buisness mumbo-jumbo he didn't have time to sort through, there was something that caught his eye. Blueprints. Not really detailed but good enough to use as a map. When Leroux regrouped with Fable, he simply passed it over to her to hold, which then was passed to Breacher. Either the map was that barebones, or the elevator they found was a recent renovation. At the suggestion of Breacher scouting ahead again, the boy slightly frowned. "Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, if the bastard currently watching us can stop the elevator too..." He softly voiced his concern, just in case whoever was watching them through the camera could hear them. Atleast Jacqueline agreed this might go sideways. "Well I can always try and get some temporary power running just in case. But I haven't tried doing something like that yet, so I dunno if it'll work." The Timekeeper suggested.</s>
<\|description\|>Jacqueline Leroux AGE: 28 SEX: Female APPEARANCE: A lithe, pale woman standing at 164 centimeters (5'4) with slight curves and little muscle definition. She has an oval shaped face with a sharp chin, straight nose, and murky green eyes. Her raven hair is cut in a straight line and above her shoulders. It is long enough to tie into a short ponytail, however. She has a slightly messy fringe that falls into her eyes, which doesn't seem to bother her. Jay prefers wearing business suits; black trousers, jackets, and even cravats. She will sometimes spruce up with colourful and/or patterned dress shirts or cufflinks, however. She wears a silver wristwatch on her left, and occasionally accessorizes with broaches or earrings. Link to the Artist In her esper form, her complexion becomes outright greyish, and her hair is longer and wilder. Her esper outfit is a fancy full plate armour. Link to the Artist GRIMIORE: An engraved silver ring. She wears it on her right pinky. INSTRUMENT: Havoc A metal war pick with a simple design but some tasteful and subtle engravings. Its handle is about a meter and a half (5 feet) in length. The head is a blunt hammer on one side and a sharp, slightly curved spike on the other. The spike part is 13 cm (5 inches) long, while its width peters off from 6 centimeters at its widest to half a centimeter at its narrowest. GRADE: Silver KEYWORD: Great Axe DAMAGE TYPE: Arcane DAMAGE: B SPEED: D SENTINEL: D SPECIAL: Pry. When the spike end is hooked into or against an object or part of an object (such as an opponent's shield, a door…), the user can pry that object free of wherever it's stuck or from whomever holds it as long as that thing's or person's sentinel rank isn't higher than D. STYLE: Eternal Knight Her whole body changes hue, giving her an ash-gray, silvery complexion. There are some splotches of a darker, tarnished gray here and there – most notably around her eyes – and a few flecks of a near-white scattered around. Her hair is now a steely black, while her fingernails are a dull aluminum. Her irises are similarly leaden, while her pupils glint a bright red. Jacqueline becomes attired in full steel plate armour, which is finely engraved. Link to the Artist Grade: Bronze PHYSICAL: E ARCANE: C CHAOS: D SPECIAL: Perfectly polished. The armour is so speckless, you may even catch your own reflection in it. GENRE: Forged Arsenal Everything from rough chunks of metal to finer constructions such as bullets, shivs, spheres, chains, etc. GRADE: Silver ELEMENT: Earth/Metal NOTES: [Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), AoE (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Zone (4), Pull (2), Restrain (4), Blink (4) SPECIAL: Breakthrough. If a target of Jacqueline's melody has their defenses enhanced, her melody gains a free rank-up. LEITMOTIF: Iron Dust A cloud of small metal particles surrounds her. They do not obstruct her vision, nor do they aid her or hinder others in any way. GRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: The particles swirl around her; gently swaying while not in combat, and buzzing angrily when she is. BACKUP: Lifeblood Crystal A small blood gem created by Lada. Shatters upon use. A creeping crimson vein-esque pattern forms upon Jacqueline's esper form, both her body and her armour. GRADE: Silver BACKUP MELODY: [Bronze Self][Stabilize][Enhance][Heal][Delay][Reflect] SPECIAL: There is power in blood. This backup can draw upon nearby human blood (injured enemy, fresh body) the very moment it is used to empower the melody, granting it a rank-up. PR: Unchivalrous Some extra stuff that hardly fits the 'knightly' theme, but then again, Jacqueline isn't one to sweat the details. Survival is survival. GRADE: Bronze GEAR: Pistol, Molotov SPECIAL: The gun is metal-silver and engraved, the Molotov is in an elegant dark gray glass bottle and produces haunting white flames. FACTION: Gemini Agents TRIVIA: Jacqueline is ambitious and driven, always striving for something. While no-nonsense, professional, and assertive in a working environment, she is much more casual in her free time. She teases and snarks, and is more receptive to humour and such. Though, if an idiot gets on her nerves, she'll certainly let them have their piece. Otherwise, she is a faithful adherent of the 'work hard, play hard' adage, and often indulges in alcohol at bars – in moderation, now that she's so close to her 30s. She enjoys adventures – such as travelling, discovering new eateries and other locales – and a tad of a thrill seeker. Bungee-jumping, skydiving, water surfing…if it's a new and exciting experience, she'll likely go for it. This trait has also made her quite the enthusiastic, even bloodthirsty monster-hunter. Born to a banker and university professor, Jacqueline was firmly in the upper middle class since birth. As the only daughter, she faced strict guidance and high expectations. She fulfilled them all, and due to some good friends, avoided the fate of being too stifled or too much of a perfectionist. She excelled academically, and went on to study business. She completed part of her education back in France, but moved to USA for her master's. Not long after graduating, she found a job, and was looking to permanently settle there for a while. She became an esper fairly recently. Jacqueline had been visiting her parents and some friends back home. While on a jaunt around town, she was inexplicably drawn to a pawn shop. There, a fairly plain silver ring stood out to her for some reason, and she purchased it. Upon putting it on, she immediately gained knowledge of what she was now capable of. It was certainly a strange event, but an exhilarating one. A few days after returning home, she had another chance encounter, in which she used her powers properly for the first time. She'd been at a small eatery in the late evening, and upon leaving the establishment, heard a strange noise an alley or so away. Leaving to investigate, she found a monstrous racoon the size of a large dog crouched over a person, ready to attack. Both Jay and the monster were startled. The monster acted first, but Jacqueline knew what to do – she transformed into her esper form, and killed the thing. She'd been too preoccupied with what had happened to think of the possible consequences. When she was contacted not a week later by Gemini Agents, however, she learned that apparently despite the time of day and location, the fact that she'd saved a person and was an esper had been discovered. Having some things explained to her, she agreed for an official transferal to their establishment. Now, she works and trains as a government agent and monster slayer. --- --- 28 \| Female \| Gemini Agents \| Iron Dust Havoc \| Great Axe \| Arcane \| Pry Eternal Knight \| Perfectly polished Forged Arsenal \| Earth/Metal \| Breakthrough [Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), AoE (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Zone (4), Pull (2), Restrain (4), Blink (4) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: D \|750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 750</s> <\|message\|>Regina Smith, The Huntress Regina Smith — The Huntress "That was a loud entrance. I thought we were going to be stealthier." A blonde woman appeared from the shadows. She was, in many ways, the complete opposite of the two espers. Her outfit was far less flashy, consisting only of a white sleeveless t-shirt under a green faded jacket and a simple black skirt that reached down her upper thighs. "Name's the Huntress. I'm here as a Freelancer." She didn't bother offering her hand. No sense in being all friendly to espers from the Maverick. Ideologically speaking, she was closer to GEMINI, believing that all monsters should die and disappear from this earth. And besides, the outrageous way these two dressed… it didn't help her prejudice in the slightest. To be honest, she only took this job over the GEMINI one because she was uncomfortable working with an organization so close to the authorities. She was technically a criminal as she used to be a hunter of protected animals before joining the Freelancers. "I am an expert at stealth and long-range combat. So if you would accommodate that fact to your entry plan, I would be most obliged." She shifted her glance to the abandoned warehouse. "The cultists are in there, right? Do you have any info on their numbers?" She glanced back at the two. --- 18 \| Female \| Freelancer \| A Hunter's Grace A Hunter's Bow \| Bow \| Arcane \| Lightweight A Hunter's Jacket \| Down To Earth A Hunter's Tools \| Nature \| Long Claws Damage X (6), Blink (4), Portal (8), Summon (4), AoE (2), Piercing (2), [Poison (2), Transform (2)] DAMAGE: C \| SPEED: E \| SENTINEL: D \| 500 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 500</s> <\|message\|>Aria Sato, The Protector ARIA: THE PROTECTOR \| PSPD #11 Reporting to: G.E.M.I.N.I. Agents The teacher waved her last remaining student goodbye and watched him be driven off before shifting her attention to the Shimr app. A quick swipe and she was all set. With hands clasped tight around her keychain, she muttered a small prayer in her native tongue before her body dispersed into light, transforming into... ...a massive 8'0" suit of pure, leaden armor. On its back rested a massive shield that seemed to add on more to the giant suit's weight, but it seemed to not mind. Each of its weighted steps sounded heavily throughout the area, accompanied by a little jingle as the keychain attached to its cuirass shook. It showed up at the given assembly area stated in the app a little earlier than the meetup time. Tardiness was a no-no, after all. A slight whirring noise came as its metal head rotated left to right to scan the area. It was not hard for it to spot the three women standing together. One was heavily plated in armor, much like itself. It admired her shield, giving her an internal thumbs-up. The other seemed to have green hair- this, it was sure the little students would love to see. The third seemed apprehensive but had an air of seriousness about her, especially taking into account the rifle in her arms. The fourth stood relaxed, in a shiny, seemingly well-maintained suit of armor. The Protector hauled itself to the group, eager to meet its teammates. It towered over the trio and greeted politely: "Good evening, everyone. I am Protector." A deep, gravelly voice rumbled from within the confines of the helmeted suit of armor. "And you?" --- 20 \| Female \| The Freelancers \| Guardian Protector's Treaty \| Spear, Shield \| Arcane \| Aegis Protector's Stronghold \| Shelter Protector's Mandate \| Gravity \| Fortification [Weightless (4), Suspend X (4)], Blink (4), Restrain (4), Pull (2), AoE (2), Powerful (0), Shield (4) DAMAGE: D \| SPEED: E \| SENTINEL: B \| 500 PHYSICAL: D \| ARCANE: E \| CHAOS: D \| 500</s>	<\|message\|>Jacqueline Leroux She was being driven to the precinct in what was basically a giant metal cage, and it was utterly silent. Jacqueline didn't show it, but she was bored. The only silver lining was that her esper outfit didn't make her all the more uncomfortable, despite logic dictating that wearing full plate should. Jay was glad to arrive at the location, because at least it got her out of the awkward, suffocating enclosed space. She surveyed the surroundings, hoping to catch signs of trouble – but there was nothing on the outside. She stood guard while she waited, gaze perfunctorily wandering here and there, just in case someone or something dangerous showed up. Jacqueline noted one of her co-workers, Valkyrie was as serious as ever. Not that she herself was lax, but Jay had recognized from working alongside her that the other woman took their duty very personally. She couldn't help but wonder if she could keep up being so stiff and inflexible even several years down the line. Should just worry about myself. Jacqueline let out a slightly longer exhale, then moved closer to where conversation between Breacher and Blinky ensued. "A few freelancers, huh. Don't have nothing against them, but it's annoying how we've no clue how many'll show up till they do. Oh, well." She ignored the part about Breacher's daughter, as she wasn't really interested. But she did pitch in at the end. "To a good one," she said simply. She shifted her war pick to her left, and offered her right to Blinky and Breacher. She didn't bother with Valkyrie, since she either wasn't interested or that weapon really was too cumbersome. A moment passed, and all was quiet again. "So, chance of monster involvement?" she asked idly. However, her tone indicated she didn't expect anything non-human this time. It wasn't long till their first Freelancer helper arrived. They were a giant suited-up soldier, and drew attention from far away. "Evenin'. Just call me Leroux. Pleasure to meet you," Jay introduced herself with a nod.</s>
<\|description\|>Jacqueline Leroux AGE: 28 SEX: Female APPEARANCE: A lithe, pale woman standing at 164 centimeters (5'4) with slight curves and little muscle definition. She has an oval shaped face with a sharp chin, straight nose, and murky green eyes. Her raven hair is cut in a straight line and above her shoulders. It is long enough to tie into a short ponytail, however. She has a slightly messy fringe that falls into her eyes, which doesn't seem to bother her. Jay prefers wearing business suits; black trousers, jackets, and even cravats. She will sometimes spruce up with colourful and/or patterned dress shirts or cufflinks, however. She wears a silver wristwatch on her left, and occasionally accessorizes with broaches or earrings. Link to the Artist In her esper form, her complexion becomes outright greyish, and her hair is longer and wilder. Her esper outfit is a fancy full plate armour. Link to the Artist GRIMIORE: An engraved silver ring. She wears it on her right pinky. INSTRUMENT: Havoc A metal war pick with a simple design but some tasteful and subtle engravings. Its handle is about a meter and a half (5 feet) in length. The head is a blunt hammer on one side and a sharp, slightly curved spike on the other. The spike part is 13 cm (5 inches) long, while its width peters off from 6 centimeters at its widest to half a centimeter at its narrowest. GRADE: Silver KEYWORD: Great Axe DAMAGE TYPE: Arcane DAMAGE: B SPEED: D SENTINEL: D SPECIAL: Pry. When the spike end is hooked into or against an object or part of an object (such as an opponent's shield, a door…), the user can pry that object free of wherever it's stuck or from whomever holds it as long as that thing's or person's sentinel rank isn't higher than D. STYLE: Eternal Knight Her whole body changes hue, giving her an ash-gray, silvery complexion. There are some splotches of a darker, tarnished gray here and there – most notably around her eyes – and a few flecks of a near-white scattered around. Her hair is now a steely black, while her fingernails are a dull aluminum. Her irises are similarly leaden, while her pupils glint a bright red. Jacqueline becomes attired in full steel plate armour, which is finely engraved. Link to the Artist Grade: Bronze PHYSICAL: E ARCANE: C CHAOS: D SPECIAL: Perfectly polished. The armour is so speckless, you may even catch your own reflection in it. GENRE: Forged Arsenal Everything from rough chunks of metal to finer constructions such as bullets, shivs, spheres, chains, etc. GRADE: Silver ELEMENT: Earth/Metal NOTES: [Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), AoE (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Zone (4), Pull (2), Restrain (4), Blink (4) SPECIAL: Breakthrough. If a target of Jacqueline's melody has their defenses enhanced, her melody gains a free rank-up. LEITMOTIF: Iron Dust A cloud of small metal particles surrounds her. They do not obstruct her vision, nor do they aid her or hinder others in any way. GRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: The particles swirl around her; gently swaying while not in combat, and buzzing angrily when she is. BACKUP: Lifeblood Crystal A small blood gem created by Lada. Shatters upon use. A creeping crimson vein-esque pattern forms upon Jacqueline's esper form, both her body and her armour. GRADE: Silver BACKUP MELODY: [Bronze Self][Stabilize][Enhance][Heal][Delay][Reflect] SPECIAL: There is power in blood. This backup can draw upon nearby human blood (injured enemy, fresh body) the very moment it is used to empower the melody, granting it a rank-up. PR: Unchivalrous Some extra stuff that hardly fits the 'knightly' theme, but then again, Jacqueline isn't one to sweat the details. Survival is survival. GRADE: Bronze GEAR: Pistol, Molotov SPECIAL: The gun is metal-silver and engraved, the Molotov is in an elegant dark gray glass bottle and produces haunting white flames. FACTION: Gemini Agents TRIVIA: Jacqueline is ambitious and driven, always striving for something. While no-nonsense, professional, and assertive in a working environment, she is much more casual in her free time. She teases and snarks, and is more receptive to humour and such. Though, if an idiot gets on her nerves, she'll certainly let them have their piece. Otherwise, she is a faithful adherent of the 'work hard, play hard' adage, and often indulges in alcohol at bars – in moderation, now that she's so close to her 30s. She enjoys adventures – such as travelling, discovering new eateries and other locales – and a tad of a thrill seeker. Bungee-jumping, skydiving, water surfing…if it's a new and exciting experience, she'll likely go for it. This trait has also made her quite the enthusiastic, even bloodthirsty monster-hunter. Born to a banker and university professor, Jacqueline was firmly in the upper middle class since birth. As the only daughter, she faced strict guidance and high expectations. She fulfilled them all, and due to some good friends, avoided the fate of being too stifled or too much of a perfectionist. She excelled academically, and went on to study business. She completed part of her education back in France, but moved to USA for her master's. Not long after graduating, she found a job, and was looking to permanently settle there for a while. She became an esper fairly recently. Jacqueline had been visiting her parents and some friends back home. While on a jaunt around town, she was inexplicably drawn to a pawn shop. There, a fairly plain silver ring stood out to her for some reason, and she purchased it. Upon putting it on, she immediately gained knowledge of what she was now capable of. It was certainly a strange event, but an exhilarating one. A few days after returning home, she had another chance encounter, in which she used her powers properly for the first time. She'd been at a small eatery in the late evening, and upon leaving the establishment, heard a strange noise an alley or so away. Leaving to investigate, she found a monstrous racoon the size of a large dog crouched over a person, ready to attack. Both Jay and the monster were startled. The monster acted first, but Jacqueline knew what to do – she transformed into her esper form, and killed the thing. She'd been too preoccupied with what had happened to think of the possible consequences. When she was contacted not a week later by Gemini Agents, however, she learned that apparently despite the time of day and location, the fact that she'd saved a person and was an esper had been discovered. Having some things explained to her, she agreed for an official transferal to their establishment. Now, she works and trains as a government agent and monster slayer. --- --- 28 \| Female \| Gemini Agents \| Iron Dust Havoc \| Great Axe \| Arcane \| Pry Eternal Knight \| Perfectly polished Forged Arsenal \| Earth/Metal \| Breakthrough [Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), AoE (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Zone (4), Pull (2), Restrain (4), Blink (4) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: D \|750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 750</s> <\|message\|>Klava Pavlova 22 \| Female \| Freelancers \| Meltwater Spring Moya-no-Yume \| Dagger \| Physical \| Frosted Sheen Snowdrop Vestige \| Sangfroid Convention Glacial Stream \| Aqua \| Rime Rose [Freeze, Cold Insulation] Damage X, Restrain, Dispel, Rain, Trap, Enhance, Trigger, Blink, Powerful DAMAGE: D \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: E \| 750 [Bronze Projectile][Blink] = -40 Mana PHYSICAL: E\| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 522 @BrokenPromise@OwO@FamishedPants Between the gunfire of the remaining cronies and the grandstanding of the Esper (who would've thought? Should've stabbed the fellow before he transformed), it was almost a miracle that Klava was untouched. It was the benefit, perhaps, of being the last to enter the staircase, and that same benefit was what keened her ears to the conversation of two others. "The Cobra Gang truly is made up of snakes, huh?" she murmured. An enclosed staircase was the bane of any Blinker, while the voices of two didn't mean that there wouldn't be more out there with them. If it was just Adder and Smarter-Dude? Klava figured her chances were good enough if she acted quick. But Adder, Smarter-Dude, and a bunch of quiet fellows? Yeah, she wasn't Protector, and she wasn't really into getting molested by Apollo either. So when the tear gas grenade bounced up, Klava, with athletic grace and reactions sparked by nights watching action movies where the heroes always responded in time to toss a grenade away, whipped off one of the sashes of her outfit and flung her other hand back, a ball of snow shooting out over the heads of the clashing Protector and Mamba. In the instant before she was yoinked back by her own Blink spell, she caught the tear gas dispenser in her sash and brought it with her. The fiery heat surged up against the protective charms of her ritual vestments, granting her only four seconds to act, but that was nothing compared to having to react to a tennis serve. Rotating her hips and whipping out her sash, she slung the tear gas grenade at Sofron, a trail of chemical irritants in its wake. That same momentum was what jump-started Klava's own dash through the flaming zone, clearing it with time to spare as she sought to engage the more experienced esper in hand-to-hand, knife-to-man. Sure, if things kept up for more than a couple seconds, both of them would be choking on tear gas, but Klava had one clear advantage in that regard. Her leitmotif provided free eye washes.</s> <\|message\|>Apollo Greit Apollo Greit "On your own this time." He yelled to the Protector. He wasn't going to be shocked again. That shit sucked. So long as that armoured person wasn't also an esper, it would probably be fine to let the spear user take care of it on their own. She was definitely after him. Maybe that'd give the protector a free cheap shot if they were so distracted with him. With his skin roasting, Apollo certainly made a choice. As an esper, he was certainly fast enough to dash through the hot zone. It didn't seem too large of an area. Plus, it wasn't like there was some large magical impediment like they had all been doing. With his own body becoming covered by a saintly glow, he sprinted down the hall. However, he only had done so for a brief period of time. He made a quick turn as he suddenly aimed for a window instead. With a great crash, he leapt out. This window wasn't chosen at random, of course. No, he was originally going to run straight at the fire man. A little wire caught his eye, however. Once through the window, he grabbed the wire with his open hand. He swung like a fictional character with a great kick off the wall. Then, as he approached a window closer and adjacent to the servant, he crashed through that window like a bat out of hell. Sure, his body was covered in cuts, scratches, and a little bit of blood from that escapade. He'd recover, though. With the masked man shooting one of the mooks, the esper being assailed by the boss grindset bitch, and the protector hopefully dealing with Cattle McProd, Apollo ran at the final mook with his man catcher extended. This would probably stop a get down Mr. President moment. With the full force of his sprint, he collided the catch with the man's neck and refused to stop. The only thing that would stop this charge was the wall. --- 24 \| Male \| Freelancer \| Bastard Restraining Order \| Spear \| Physical \| Unenforceable Second Skin \| Regrowth God Complex \| Light \| Give Him Thanks [Reveal (2), Purity (4)], Heal (16), Stabilize (0), Purify (6), Reflect (4), Damage X(6), Powerful (0), Trap (0), AoE (2), Full Extend (4) DAMAGE: E \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 [Give Him Thanks] - +16 [Silver Self][Reflect] -48 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 462</s>	<\|message\|>Jacqueline Leroux "I'll be fine when these bastards are down," Jacqueline quipped in response to Breacher's worried question. As expected, the gun and knife guys were there to stall for time. Rather than backup from more gangers, though, Rottweiler had managed to unearth an actual damned blood mage. Then, the man started spouting off about the mage, how he wanted to free her, and turned to crime because of it, yadda yadda yadda. "Yeah, I don't think so," Jacqueline denied the request to let a criminal blood mage, same as Breacher had. When Rottweiler charged her with a metal detector of all things. Jacqueline did notice his other weapons, but didn't have the time to worry about whether he was going to use them later on or not. She swung her war pick, aiming to get it tangled with the lover-boy's unconventional weapon. She was more than aware that whether she disarmed him fast enough or not, she'd have to get out of range of his no doubt superior techniques swiftly. Preparing to do so, she lifted a finger from her weapon mid-swing, aiming a melody at Rottweiler's chest. Flecks of rust gathered around her finger, then shot in a straight line towards her enemy. --- --- Havoc \| Great Axe \| Arcane \| Pry Eternal Knight \| Perfectly polished Forged Arsenal \| Earth/Metal \| Fissure [Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), Rain (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Shield (4) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: D \| 500 [Bronze Beam][Damage X] = - 72 Mana PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 324</s>
<\|description\|>Jacqueline Leroux AGE: 28 SEX: Female APPEARANCE: A lithe, pale woman standing at 164 centimeters (5'4) with slight curves and little muscle definition. She has an oval shaped face with a sharp chin, straight nose, and murky green eyes. Her raven hair is cut in a straight line and above her shoulders. It is long enough to tie into a short ponytail, however. She has a slightly messy fringe that falls into her eyes, which doesn't seem to bother her. Jay prefers wearing business suits; black trousers, jackets, and even cravats. She will sometimes spruce up with colourful and/or patterned dress shirts or cufflinks, however. She wears a silver wristwatch on her left, and occasionally accessorizes with broaches or earrings. Link to the Artist In her esper form, her complexion becomes outright greyish, and her hair is longer and wilder. Her esper outfit is a fancy full plate armour. Link to the Artist GRIMIORE: An engraved silver ring. She wears it on her right pinky. INSTRUMENT: Havoc A metal war pick with a simple design but some tasteful and subtle engravings. Its handle is about a meter and a half (5 feet) in length. The head is a blunt hammer on one side and a sharp, slightly curved spike on the other. The spike part is 13 cm (5 inches) long, while its width peters off from 6 centimeters at its widest to half a centimeter at its narrowest. GRADE: Silver KEYWORD: Great Axe DAMAGE TYPE: Arcane DAMAGE: B SPEED: D SENTINEL: D SPECIAL: Pry. When the spike end is hooked into or against an object or part of an object (such as an opponent's shield, a door…), the user can pry that object free of wherever it's stuck or from whomever holds it as long as that thing's or person's sentinel rank isn't higher than D. STYLE: Eternal Knight Her whole body changes hue, giving her an ash-gray, silvery complexion. There are some splotches of a darker, tarnished gray here and there – most notably around her eyes – and a few flecks of a near-white scattered around. Her hair is now a steely black, while her fingernails are a dull aluminum. Her irises are similarly leaden, while her pupils glint a bright red. Jacqueline becomes attired in full steel plate armour, which is finely engraved. Link to the Artist Grade: Bronze PHYSICAL: E ARCANE: C CHAOS: D SPECIAL: Perfectly polished. The armour is so speckless, you may even catch your own reflection in it. GENRE: Forged Arsenal Everything from rough chunks of metal to finer constructions such as bullets, shivs, spheres, chains, etc. GRADE: Silver ELEMENT: Earth/Metal NOTES: [Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), AoE (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Zone (4), Pull (2), Restrain (4), Blink (4) SPECIAL: Breakthrough. If a target of Jacqueline's melody has their defenses enhanced, her melody gains a free rank-up. LEITMOTIF: Iron Dust A cloud of small metal particles surrounds her. They do not obstruct her vision, nor do they aid her or hinder others in any way. GRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: The particles swirl around her; gently swaying while not in combat, and buzzing angrily when she is. BACKUP: Lifeblood Crystal A small blood gem created by Lada. Shatters upon use. A creeping crimson vein-esque pattern forms upon Jacqueline's esper form, both her body and her armour. GRADE: Silver BACKUP MELODY: [Bronze Self][Stabilize][Enhance][Heal][Delay][Reflect] SPECIAL: There is power in blood. This backup can draw upon nearby human blood (injured enemy, fresh body) the very moment it is used to empower the melody, granting it a rank-up. PR: Unchivalrous Some extra stuff that hardly fits the 'knightly' theme, but then again, Jacqueline isn't one to sweat the details. Survival is survival. GRADE: Bronze GEAR: Pistol, Molotov SPECIAL: The gun is metal-silver and engraved, the Molotov is in an elegant dark gray glass bottle and produces haunting white flames. FACTION: Gemini Agents TRIVIA: Jacqueline is ambitious and driven, always striving for something. While no-nonsense, professional, and assertive in a working environment, she is much more casual in her free time. She teases and snarks, and is more receptive to humour and such. Though, if an idiot gets on her nerves, she'll certainly let them have their piece. Otherwise, she is a faithful adherent of the 'work hard, play hard' adage, and often indulges in alcohol at bars – in moderation, now that she's so close to her 30s. She enjoys adventures – such as travelling, discovering new eateries and other locales – and a tad of a thrill seeker. Bungee-jumping, skydiving, water surfing…if it's a new and exciting experience, she'll likely go for it. This trait has also made her quite the enthusiastic, even bloodthirsty monster-hunter. Born to a banker and university professor, Jacqueline was firmly in the upper middle class since birth. As the only daughter, she faced strict guidance and high expectations. She fulfilled them all, and due to some good friends, avoided the fate of being too stifled or too much of a perfectionist. She excelled academically, and went on to study business. She completed part of her education back in France, but moved to USA for her master's. Not long after graduating, she found a job, and was looking to permanently settle there for a while. She became an esper fairly recently. Jacqueline had been visiting her parents and some friends back home. While on a jaunt around town, she was inexplicably drawn to a pawn shop. There, a fairly plain silver ring stood out to her for some reason, and she purchased it. Upon putting it on, she immediately gained knowledge of what she was now capable of. It was certainly a strange event, but an exhilarating one. A few days after returning home, she had another chance encounter, in which she used her powers properly for the first time. She'd been at a small eatery in the late evening, and upon leaving the establishment, heard a strange noise an alley or so away. Leaving to investigate, she found a monstrous racoon the size of a large dog crouched over a person, ready to attack. Both Jay and the monster were startled. The monster acted first, but Jacqueline knew what to do – she transformed into her esper form, and killed the thing. She'd been too preoccupied with what had happened to think of the possible consequences. When she was contacted not a week later by Gemini Agents, however, she learned that apparently despite the time of day and location, the fact that she'd saved a person and was an esper had been discovered. Having some things explained to her, she agreed for an official transferal to their establishment. Now, she works and trains as a government agent and monster slayer. --- --- 28 \| Female \| Gemini Agents \| Iron Dust Havoc \| Great Axe \| Arcane \| Pry Eternal Knight \| Perfectly polished Forged Arsenal \| Earth/Metal \| Breakthrough [Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), AoE (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Zone (4), Pull (2), Restrain (4), Blink (4) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: D \|750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 750</s> <\|message\|>Finnegan Vanhorn, though he'd never disclose his real name easily. He usually goes by Fable, or his alias as the Timekeeper. (...Or TK if it's too complicated. He won't mind.) "Ribbit ribbit." Current Location: Precinct #11 13 \| Male \| Gemini \| Clockwork Soldier Aeterna \| Sword \| Physical \| Swift and Keen Clocksmith's Jacket \| Industrial Chronosphere \| Lightning \| Overclock Eddy \| Pistol, Medical Supplies [Paralysis (4), Speedster (4)] Damage (2), Damage X (6), Slow (4), Blink (4), Restrain (4), Minor Heal (4), Heal (16), Quicken (0), AoE (2) DAMAGE: C \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 [Bronze Projectile][Damage X][AoE]= - 96 MP PHYSICAL: D \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 622 "Just ignore her kid, you can do this!" The only one to respond between the Timekeeper and his puppet was Eddy, and even then he too choose to focus more on their plan. Luckily Finn's idea to lead Betty to the center of the roof managed to work, even if it meant the other agents couldn't help him. Here he could understand why though, even if it's still a dumbshit move to face her by himself like last time. But unlike last time, whatever he learned there could give him a leverage here. Like with Betty's defensive melody. He intended to make her waste it. And then there were frogs. Damnit, that thing's faster than expected! Gotta hurry this up! The boy's head snapped around to see the second spell was set in motion. Frogs both dead and alive started to spawn from the woodwork, and apparently bloodthirsty. Hopscotch don't fail me now. Finn had to maneuver around his newfound audience as they jumped at him, cause he was not looking forward to seeing what their corrosive bile could do to his outer shell. Unfortunate still that his adversary was still charging at him. Now, he did have an idea of how to take advantage of this. But it'd take precision, and more importantly, perfect timing. "Ally-oop!" Swift as he could, the Timekeeper flung a bolt at the floor below Betty. For a moment she'd probably assume he missed or hesitated, but he fully intended to have her caught inbetween the corrosive explosions of nearby frogs. If not to knock her down a peg, then at least to continue stalling her. He just had to keep at it, keep moving. Speed was one of his few virtues. Let's hope it'll last.</s> <\|message\|>Ashley Avenir, The Knight of Tomorrow Frogs were now falling from the roiling heavens along with the crimson rain, but Ashley was content to ignore them for the time being. The Knight of Tomorrow had Justin in her sights and a lack of focus could prove fatal, if not for herself, then for Gale, whom the vampire was currently closing in upon. Darn it! the high-tech heroine hissed as she watched Justin rotate his shield so that the rapidly shrinking opening her energy bolt had created was now facing away from them. With so much blood available to fuel his dark incantations, it seemed like it would be impossible for her to break through Justin's defenses. Even if his spells were limited by his remaining mana, there was no telling how much of that the vampire had left, and time was clearly of the essence, something the cacophonic croaking of the surrounding frog swarm attested to. Seeing that Gale seemed to be safe from ranged attacks for the moment, and not wanting to waste any more of her own mana than absolutely necessary, Ashley put her trust in the floaty bluenette's ability to avoid Justin's melee attacks and just focused on wearing down the vampire's defenses as best as she could. To that end, the Knight of Tomorrow fired yet another glowing bolt of neon green energy at the vampire's blood barrier. With luck, this continued bombardment would, at the very least, keep their foe's attention divided so that Gale would be able to take advantage of any openings that might appear in Justin's defenses. Meanwhile, Ashley's own above-average defenses against chaos attacks should keep the corrosive frogs from harming her, at least for the time being. In any event, this was sure to be a challenging fight, and the high-tech heroine only hoped that her fellow agents were having a better time of things than she was… --- 18 \| Female \| GEMINI \| Vision of Tomorrow Implements of Tomorrow \| Wand, Shield \| Arcane \| Tune of Tomorrow Raiment of Tomorrow \| Stride of Tomorrow Light of Tomorrow \| Light \| Power of Tomorrow PRO-TEK 4000 Defensive Surgery Implement \| Kevlar Coat, Kevlar Padding, Clip Light [Reveal (2), Purity (4)], Damage (2), Damage X (6), Shield (4), Reflect (4), Heal (6), Major Heal (18), AoE (2), Powerful (0), Piercing (2) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: E \| SENTINEL: C \| 750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: B \| 582</s>	<\|message\|>Jacqueline Leroux Frogs already? The critters would go ignored, however, as Gunther assembled a bunch of cars into a heap; some sort of makeshift fortress, it looked like. You...you are an annoyance. Pac-a-Fist took potshots at them with her laser-gun, which she evaded as she best could. Jacqueline was quickly losing patience, however. She formed a melody on the tip of her finger, and aimed. "TAKE COVER!" she shouted at her allies, echoing Breacher's urging for them to move. She had no idea if her attack would have devastating effects for her enemies, allies, or both. Or maybe Gunther would prove powerful enough to keep control of the cars even as they got shaken up. She was betting not though, because the coward was hiding. For all that he scorned the living, he was very much attached to his own un-life. Her beam fired, and connected to the sports car on top of the poltergeist's construction. Then, Jacqueline took her own advice, and dashed away. --- --- 28 \| Female \| Gemini Agents \| Iron Dust Havoc \| Great Axe \| Arcane \| Pry Eternal Knight \| Perfectly polished Forged Arsenal \| Earth/Metal \| Breakthrough [Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), AoE (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Zone (4), Pull (2), Restrain (4), Blink (4) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 [Silver Beam][Powerful][Quake] = -42 mana PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 636</s>
<\|description\|>Jacqueline Leroux AGE: 28 SEX: Female APPEARANCE: A lithe, pale woman standing at 164 centimeters (5'4) with slight curves and little muscle definition. She has an oval shaped face with a sharp chin, straight nose, and murky green eyes. Her raven hair is cut in a straight line and above her shoulders. It is long enough to tie into a short ponytail, however. She has a slightly messy fringe that falls into her eyes, which doesn't seem to bother her. Jay prefers wearing business suits; black trousers, jackets, and even cravats. She will sometimes spruce up with colourful and/or patterned dress shirts or cufflinks, however. She wears a silver wristwatch on her left, and occasionally accessorizes with broaches or earrings. Link to the Artist In her esper form, her complexion becomes outright greyish, and her hair is longer and wilder. Her esper outfit is a fancy full plate armour. Link to the Artist GRIMIORE: An engraved silver ring. She wears it on her right pinky. INSTRUMENT: Havoc A metal war pick with a simple design but some tasteful and subtle engravings. Its handle is about a meter and a half (5 feet) in length. The head is a blunt hammer on one side and a sharp, slightly curved spike on the other. The spike part is 13 cm (5 inches) long, while its width peters off from 6 centimeters at its widest to half a centimeter at its narrowest. GRADE: Silver KEYWORD: Great Axe DAMAGE TYPE: Arcane DAMAGE: B SPEED: D SENTINEL: D SPECIAL: Pry. When the spike end is hooked into or against an object or part of an object (such as an opponent's shield, a door…), the user can pry that object free of wherever it's stuck or from whomever holds it as long as that thing's or person's sentinel rank isn't higher than D. STYLE: Eternal Knight Her whole body changes hue, giving her an ash-gray, silvery complexion. There are some splotches of a darker, tarnished gray here and there – most notably around her eyes – and a few flecks of a near-white scattered around. Her hair is now a steely black, while her fingernails are a dull aluminum. Her irises are similarly leaden, while her pupils glint a bright red. Jacqueline becomes attired in full steel plate armour, which is finely engraved. Link to the Artist Grade: Bronze PHYSICAL: E ARCANE: C CHAOS: D SPECIAL: Perfectly polished. The armour is so speckless, you may even catch your own reflection in it. GENRE: Forged Arsenal Everything from rough chunks of metal to finer constructions such as bullets, shivs, spheres, chains, etc. GRADE: Silver ELEMENT: Earth/Metal NOTES: [Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), AoE (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Zone (4), Pull (2), Restrain (4), Blink (4) SPECIAL: Breakthrough. If a target of Jacqueline's melody has their defenses enhanced, her melody gains a free rank-up. LEITMOTIF: Iron Dust A cloud of small metal particles surrounds her. They do not obstruct her vision, nor do they aid her or hinder others in any way. GRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: The particles swirl around her; gently swaying while not in combat, and buzzing angrily when she is. BACKUP: Lifeblood Crystal A small blood gem created by Lada. Shatters upon use. A creeping crimson vein-esque pattern forms upon Jacqueline's esper form, both her body and her armour. GRADE: Silver BACKUP MELODY: [Bronze Self][Stabilize][Enhance][Heal][Delay][Reflect] SPECIAL: There is power in blood. This backup can draw upon nearby human blood (injured enemy, fresh body) the very moment it is used to empower the melody, granting it a rank-up. PR: Unchivalrous Some extra stuff that hardly fits the 'knightly' theme, but then again, Jacqueline isn't one to sweat the details. Survival is survival. GRADE: Bronze GEAR: Pistol, Molotov SPECIAL: The gun is metal-silver and engraved, the Molotov is in an elegant dark gray glass bottle and produces haunting white flames. FACTION: Gemini Agents TRIVIA: Jacqueline is ambitious and driven, always striving for something. While no-nonsense, professional, and assertive in a working environment, she is much more casual in her free time. She teases and snarks, and is more receptive to humour and such. Though, if an idiot gets on her nerves, she'll certainly let them have their piece. Otherwise, she is a faithful adherent of the 'work hard, play hard' adage, and often indulges in alcohol at bars – in moderation, now that she's so close to her 30s. She enjoys adventures – such as travelling, discovering new eateries and other locales – and a tad of a thrill seeker. Bungee-jumping, skydiving, water surfing…if it's a new and exciting experience, she'll likely go for it. This trait has also made her quite the enthusiastic, even bloodthirsty monster-hunter. Born to a banker and university professor, Jacqueline was firmly in the upper middle class since birth. As the only daughter, she faced strict guidance and high expectations. She fulfilled them all, and due to some good friends, avoided the fate of being too stifled or too much of a perfectionist. She excelled academically, and went on to study business. She completed part of her education back in France, but moved to USA for her master's. Not long after graduating, she found a job, and was looking to permanently settle there for a while. She became an esper fairly recently. Jacqueline had been visiting her parents and some friends back home. While on a jaunt around town, she was inexplicably drawn to a pawn shop. There, a fairly plain silver ring stood out to her for some reason, and she purchased it. Upon putting it on, she immediately gained knowledge of what she was now capable of. It was certainly a strange event, but an exhilarating one. A few days after returning home, she had another chance encounter, in which she used her powers properly for the first time. She'd been at a small eatery in the late evening, and upon leaving the establishment, heard a strange noise an alley or so away. Leaving to investigate, she found a monstrous racoon the size of a large dog crouched over a person, ready to attack. Both Jay and the monster were startled. The monster acted first, but Jacqueline knew what to do – she transformed into her esper form, and killed the thing. She'd been too preoccupied with what had happened to think of the possible consequences. When she was contacted not a week later by Gemini Agents, however, she learned that apparently despite the time of day and location, the fact that she'd saved a person and was an esper had been discovered. Having some things explained to her, she agreed for an official transferal to their establishment. Now, she works and trains as a government agent and monster slayer. --- --- 28 \| Female \| Gemini Agents \| Iron Dust Havoc \| Great Axe \| Arcane \| Pry Eternal Knight \| Perfectly polished Forged Arsenal \| Earth/Metal \| Breakthrough [Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), AoE (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Zone (4), Pull (2), Restrain (4), Blink (4) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: D \|750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 750</s> <\|message\|>Ashley Avenir, The Knight of Tomorrow Even with all the various defensive measures Ashley had in place, the foes arrayed against her were far too numerous to completely repel. The Knight of Tomorrow ground her teeth in annoyance as her anti-gravity buzzsaw became embedded in, and subsequently engulfed by, the increasingly growing mass of blood tendrils, even as a shot from Pac's laser pistol shattered the protective aura around her body. A swarm of buzzing flies was also assailing her from every angle, and despite her efforts to blast, block, or bat them aside, it was inevitable that one would eventually reach her body. Landing on her back, it disgorged a stream of acid onto her shoulder. Ashley hissed in pain as the corrosive spray ate into her flesh, but even as anguished tears streamed down her bloody cheeks, the high-tech heroine remained fiercely fixated on her goal… A moment later, a swift blur of motion gave evidence of Leroux's rescue, and its continued path toward Pac meant that the gamer girl would have significantly more pressing concerns to deal with than taking shots at Ashley. Thus, the Knight of Tomorrow joined her rescued teammate in her attack upon Justin. However, while the armored agent took the literal high ground, Ashley would come at their foe from a decidedly lower path. Moving to take cover behind one of the wrecked cars, the high-tech heroine finally caught sight of vampire once more. Even through the crimson downpour, she could see that his body had been utterly ravaged, and Ashley only hoped his injuries felt as painful as they looked… And you're going to be feeling a lot worse, you fucking monster… Justin's attention was fixed on Leroux, while his blood barrier remained focused on Samuel. Ashley herself had yet to be seen… Her skin had begun to itch from the rapidly spreading boils, but the young agent didn't care. Her foe was in her sights, and that was all that mattered. Her pain only sharpened her focus, only accentuated her desire to see Justin experience even greater agony. From her place of concealment, the Knight of Tomorrow crouched down, braced herself against the car for added stability, and fired off two orbs of neon green annihilation in quick succession. The first came via a melody. The second, more powerful, bolt originated directly from her techno-wand itself. Both were aimed at the vampire's now-exposed heart… --- 18 \| Female \| GEMINI \| Vision of Tomorrow Implements of Tomorrow \| Wand, Shield \| Arcane \| Tune of Tomorrow Raiment of Tomorrow \| Stride of Tomorrow Light of Tomorrow \| Light \| Power of Tomorrow PRO-TEK 4000 Defensive Surgery Implement \| Kevlar Coat, Kevlar Padding, Clip Light [Reveal (2), Purity (4)], Damage (2), Damage X (6), Shield (4), Reflect (4), Heal (6), Major Heal (18), AoE (2), Powerful (0), Piercing (2) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: E \| SENTINEL: C \| 750 [Silver Projectile][Damage X] = -90 mana PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: B \| 252</s> <\|message\|>Marrie Knight Marrie Knight I'm saving you whether you want it or not, damnit! Marrie thought as Pac fell out of her chain. She used the last bit of flight given to her by her note to drop down at an angle in an attempt to avoid the starship and it's attack. As she fell, and her skin began itching, she used her backup. The bracelet she had been given worked its magic to heal herself up again. She had to conserve mana at this point, she knew. She hit the ground and rolled before bursting into a sprint towards Pac-a-fist. She was not going to give up, and Pac had to be running low on mana too. A quick glance at Justin made it clear that they were in the second phase of the boss fight, and the damnable Diver was still making things worse. What was the next one again? Oh. Oh shit. --- 19 \| Female \| Freelancer \| Misty Steps Apexer Predator \| Dagger \| Physical \| Heavenly Chain Arctic Storm \| Masking Step of the Hurricane \| Wind \| Riding the Currents After You Get Smacked UP \| Disco Fever [Storm (4), Flight (6)] Damage X (6), Multi-Cast (4), Blink (4), Magic Sense (6), Heal (16), Portal (8), Rain (2), Scatter (2), Bounce (2) DAMAGE: C \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: C \| 156 After You Get Smacked Up : Bronze Self - Powerful - Enhance - Heal PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: B \| 156</s>	<\|message\|>Jacqueline Leroux Justin was damaged, but of course, not yet dead. He whirled on her, and she suddenly couldn't move. So, that's what his trick was. Even though he made for a gory image, he was clearly still functioning perfectly fine. He could probably heal somehow or other if given time enough. He had to be finished off now, somehow. All she could do was cast a melody. That'd have to be enough. The very moment she realized what he intended to do – felt the blood rain under his control herding her closer to him, saw his arm raise and grow claws – her decision was made. She channeled magic throughout her body. An attack he shouldn't be able to see coming until it was too late. It didn't even matter when her skin broke out in boils. She strained under the pain, but was unable to move. Inevitably, her eyes teared. It was painful, and it would get even more so. But her melody was primed and ready to go. As soon as the vampire grasped her, he'd be in for a surprise. --- --- 28 \| Female \| Gemini Agents \| Iron Dust Havoc \| Great Axe \| Arcane \| Pry Eternal Knight \| Perfectly polished Forged Arsenal \| Earth/Metal \| Breakthrough [Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), AoE (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Zone (4), Pull (2), Restrain (4), Blink (4) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 [Silver Touch][AoE][Damage X] = -120 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 140</s>
<\|description\|>Apollo Greit 24 y/o \| Male \| 6'7" \| 260 lbs \| Freelancer ↕ APPEARANCE: At 6'7" with a mountain of muscle to fill out his clothes, Apollo draws attention wherever he goes. It doesn't help that he has a sharp face and clear skin. His dark hair is rough, but gives him a wild sort of look. When in his esper form, an extra layer of skin covers his body. He appears as though someone forgot to sculpt a face on his chiselled body. While quick, his transformation looks as though an extra layer of skin spreads from the origin of his earring. GRIMIORE: A simple and small diamond earring worn on his right ear. INSTRUMENT: Tethering the Beast A full arm gauntlet with a manacle resting on the back of his hand and 15 feet of chain around his arm. While appearing to be made out of metal, it seems too bestial to be compared to a knight's armour. GRADE: Silver KEYWORD: Hand, rope/chain DAMAGE TYPE: Physical DAMAGE: D SPEED: C SENTINEL: C SPECIAL: Tether - Apollo can fire the manacle as though it were a projectile and have it latch onto whatever it strikes. Apollo can also release the manacle after it has latched onto something. Striking the manacle with an E-rank attack causes it to prematurely open. After being opened this way, the manacle can not be fired for 12 seconds (2 combat rounds, usually). STYLE: Second Skin A thin extra layer of skin covers Apollo and all of his discernible features. One could almost say he looked like a super hero, save for the blank face, lack of cape, and flesh colourway. GRADE: Bronze PHYSICAL: E ARCANE: D CHAOS: C SPECIAL: Regrowth - Superficial wounds, grazing hits, and other light external injuries that would have no real effect rapidly regenerate. Genre: God Complex Apollo holds the power of life and death over others. Though in his case, the majority of that is life. GRADE: Silver ELEMENT: Light NOTES: [Reveal (2), Purity (4)], Heal (16), Stabilize (0), Purify (6), Reflect (4), Damage X(6), Powerful (0), Trap (0), AoE (2), Full Extend (4) SPECIAL: Give Him Thanks - Thanking Apollo after being afflicted by one of his healing melodies restores 10% of his melody's cost. LEITMOTIF: GRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: Bastard - Apollo's face seems to be an extra attractive target. TRIVIA: There is no reward without effort. For Apollo, that applies for everything in his life. His brutal physique was the result of hours spent daily at a gym. His success in life had been a mixture of the extra hours he put in compared to other people and his willingness to crush other people. Of course, someone who works as hard as him has to play even harder. He's a raging bull likely to die before old age destroys his body. He's a shallow womanizer whose relationships all end in lust and abandonment. He drinks so much that the only thing preventing him from becoming an alcoholic is the damage it would do on his physique. In the end, he's an unlikable bastard who can't stop winning. Of course, Apollo was never born this way. In fact, the young child was unrecognizable to his current self. He was a dainty ward of the state. He could barely make eye contact with other people. He bounced around homes and cities often and never really found family. The kid was alone. He only had himself he could trust and rely on. Every adult left him. That cowardly boy realized something. If everyone threw him away, couldn't he just return it in kind? The boy began to use other people. That fearful attitude he possessed as a young child vanished as he made relationships that better served him. He used people around him. If they had something he wanted, he got close to them. As the boy slowly became a man, this aspect of him never changed. Every relationship was based on value to himself. He spent more time working out and working. His fosters didn't care, even as he left the house. One less mouth to feed and all. Soon, the man was unrecognizable. A meteoric rise in his job from knowing and using the right people. His body had shifted from that of a thin adolescent to that of a well-toned man. He got what he wanted and was on the rise to being king of his own little world. His final promotion came a transfer to a larger city. Pax Septimus was an interesting place. Certainly bigger than his old home. More interesting nightlife, more expansive gyms, and more shallow people. He fit right in. It was on a whim that he picked up those earrings. He bought them as a gift from a pawn shop in an alleyway. They were cheap, but looked expensive. A used box and fake card would make them look like a thoughtful, if generic, gift. Still, it was surprising that those earrings were there. At that price, they should have sold the second they touched the store shelf. He just had a feeling that he needed to buy them. With them in hand, he left the pawn shop. It was a surprise that there was an abomination right outside the door. The monster was definitely not human. No amount of scars and defects could give someone a maw that consisted of head-sized gaping hole with a blender of teeth. With earrings in hand, he instantly went to for a devastating hook aimed at the inhuman monster in front of him. As he did so, the earrings seemed to vanish. Instead, another layer of skin covered his body as he struck the monster. Blow for blow, Apollo punched the shit out of that thing. He ignored the weapon that seemed to appear alongside his new skin. When the beast cut him, he instinctively healed himself. It was a brutal blow for blow fight that should have ended faster. With the last of his strength, he tossed a punch clad in light. As he had done so, the monster's head practically vanished as a red mist took its place. He was exhausted and confused as the skin retracted back into a single earring, the other one probably lost during the fight. That was the most alive he'd ever felt. With that experience, he couldn't go back to his normal life. No, he couldn't stomach it anymore. He quit in order to follow the path of that night. Since then, he's been freelancing. After all, it's been something to actually challenge him. 24 \| Male \| Freelancer \| Bastard Tethering the Beast \| Fist, Rope/Chain \| Physical \| Tether Second Skin \| Regrowth God Complex \| Light \| Give Him Thanks [Reveal (2), Purity (4)], Heal (16), Stabilize (0), Purify (6), Reflect (4), Damage X(6), Powerful (0), Trap (0), AoE (2), Full Extend (4) DAMAGE: E \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 750</s> <\|message\|>Aria Sato, The Protector ARIA: THE PROTECTOR \| PSPD #11 Reporting to: G.E.M.I.N.I. Agents The teacher waved her last remaining student goodbye and watched him be driven off before shifting her attention to the Shimr app. A quick swipe and she was all set. With hands clasped tight around her keychain, she muttered a small prayer in her native tongue before her body dispersed into light, transforming into... ...a massive 8'0" suit of pure, leaden armor. On its back rested a massive shield that seemed to add on more to the giant suit's weight, but it seemed to not mind. Each of its weighted steps sounded heavily throughout the area, accompanied by a little jingle as the keychain attached to its cuirass shook. It showed up at the given assembly area stated in the app a little earlier than the meetup time. Tardiness was a no-no, after all. A slight whirring noise came as its metal head rotated left to right to scan the area. It was not hard for it to spot the three women standing together. One was heavily plated in armor, much like itself. It admired her shield, giving her an internal thumbs-up. The other seemed to have green hair- this, it was sure the little students would love to see. The third seemed apprehensive but had an air of seriousness about her, especially taking into account the rifle in her arms. The fourth stood relaxed, in a shiny, seemingly well-maintained suit of armor. The Protector hauled itself to the group, eager to meet its teammates. It towered over the trio and greeted politely: "Good evening, everyone. I am Protector." A deep, gravelly voice rumbled from within the confines of the helmeted suit of armor. "And you?" --- 20 \| Female \| The Freelancers \| Guardian Protector's Treaty \| Spear, Shield \| Arcane \| Aegis Protector's Stronghold \| Shelter Protector's Mandate \| Gravity \| Fortification [Weightless (4), Suspend X (4)], Blink (4), Restrain (4), Pull (2), AoE (2), Powerful (0), Shield (4) DAMAGE: D \| SPEED: E \| SENTINEL: B \| 500 PHYSICAL: D \| ARCANE: E \| CHAOS: D \| 500</s> <\|message\|>Jacqueline Leroux Jacqueline Leroux She was being driven to the precinct in what was basically a giant metal cage, and it was utterly silent. Jacqueline didn't show it, but she was bored. The only silver lining was that her esper outfit didn't make her all the more uncomfortable, despite logic dictating that wearing full plate should. Jay was glad to arrive at the location, because at least it got her out of the awkward, suffocating enclosed space. She surveyed the surroundings, hoping to catch signs of trouble – but there was nothing on the outside. She stood guard while she waited, gaze perfunctorily wandering here and there, just in case someone or something dangerous showed up. Jacqueline noted one of her co-workers, Valkyrie was as serious as ever. Not that she herself was lax, but Jay had recognized from working alongside her that the other woman took their duty very personally. She couldn't help but wonder if she could keep up being so stiff and inflexible even several years down the line. Should just worry about myself. Jacqueline let out a slightly longer exhale, then moved closer to where conversation between Breacher and Blinky ensued. "A few freelancers, huh. Don't have nothing against them, but it's annoying how we've no clue how many'll show up till they do. Oh, well." She ignored the part about Breacher's daughter, as she wasn't really interested. But she did pitch in at the end. "To a good one," she said simply. She shifted her war pick to her left, and offered her right to Blinky and Breacher. She didn't bother with Valkyrie, since she either wasn't interested or that weapon really was too cumbersome. A moment passed, and all was quiet again. "So, chance of monster involvement?" she asked idly. However, her tone indicated she didn't expect anything non-human this time. It wasn't long till their first Freelancer helper arrived. They were a giant suited-up soldier, and drew attention from far away. "Evenin'. Just call me Leroux. Pleasure to meet you," Jay introduced herself with a nod.</s>	<\|message\|>Apollo Greit The roar of six cylinders echoed against the concrete buildings. It certainly wasn't sneaky, but someone driving a car for assholes like an asshole was considerably less conspicuous than the government armoured vehicles that crept through the streets. Apollo certainly wasn't planning to work today. He was just out for a rip. However, a job on Shimr and government vehicles entering was at least interesting enough to show up. The aggressive car came to a stop some distance away as the engine's roar was replaced by equally aggressive music muffled by closed windows. As the music went silent alongside the engine, a large figure left the poorly parked car. With a shirt that was a size too small, aviators, and a golden necklace, he certainly didn't like a government stooge. In fact, he looked closer to one of the people who would have chosen to occupy a police station. Quickly, his aviators were removed and placed on the collar of his shirt. A second skin began to grow and cover his personal features. Though, his clothing was unaffected by this. There were already a couple of people there. It was pretty easy to tell which ones were freelancers and which ones were agents, even if he had never worked with or seen them before. Agents usually ended up looking the same. Though this time, it appeared there were two armoured persons. Well, it wasn't like like the armour actually did anything. The armour from the 8" giant did look sturdier than the other woman's, though. He approached the group with his phone in hand and the screen showing the Shimr job open and visible. His appearance as a faceless Adonis tended to get him questioned more than anything else. Letting others see that he was a freelancer was the best way to expedite the process of not getting questioned or tackled. Still, he introduced himself to the group. "I'm Apollo," he succinctly stated. "You can think of me as a healer, more or less." With it being a mystery of if that was his nickname or his actual name, he held out a fist for the giant to bump. Tall people had to stick together, even if the Protector undoubtedly got a few feet from their esper form. With his fist still extended, he glanced over to his right. Without missing a beat, his head quickly recoiled as a girl with a gun seemed to suddenly appear. Or was always there? Still shocked him. --- 24 \| Male \| Freelancer \| Bastard Restraining Order \| Spear \| Physical \| Unenforceable Second Skin \| Regrowth God Complex \| Light \| Give Him Thanks [Reveal (2), Purity (4)], Heal (16), Stabilize (0), Purify (6), Reflect (4), Damage X(6), Powerful (0), Trap (0), AoE (2), Full Extend (4) DAMAGE: E \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 750</s>
<\|description\|>Apollo Greit 24 y/o \| Male \| 6'7" \| 260 lbs \| Freelancer ↕ APPEARANCE: At 6'7" with a mountain of muscle to fill out his clothes, Apollo draws attention wherever he goes. It doesn't help that he has a sharp face and clear skin. His dark hair is rough, but gives him a wild sort of look. When in his esper form, an extra layer of skin covers his body. He appears as though someone forgot to sculpt a face on his chiselled body. While quick, his transformation looks as though an extra layer of skin spreads from the origin of his earring. GRIMIORE: A simple and small diamond earring worn on his right ear. INSTRUMENT: Tethering the Beast A full arm gauntlet with a manacle resting on the back of his hand and 15 feet of chain around his arm. While appearing to be made out of metal, it seems too bestial to be compared to a knight's armour. GRADE: Silver KEYWORD: Hand, rope/chain DAMAGE TYPE: Physical DAMAGE: D SPEED: C SENTINEL: C SPECIAL: Tether - Apollo can fire the manacle as though it were a projectile and have it latch onto whatever it strikes. Apollo can also release the manacle after it has latched onto something. Striking the manacle with an E-rank attack causes it to prematurely open. After being opened this way, the manacle can not be fired for 12 seconds (2 combat rounds, usually). STYLE: Second Skin A thin extra layer of skin covers Apollo and all of his discernible features. One could almost say he looked like a super hero, save for the blank face, lack of cape, and flesh colourway. GRADE: Bronze PHYSICAL: E ARCANE: D CHAOS: C SPECIAL: Regrowth - Superficial wounds, grazing hits, and other light external injuries that would have no real effect rapidly regenerate. Genre: God Complex Apollo holds the power of life and death over others. Though in his case, the majority of that is life. GRADE: Silver ELEMENT: Light NOTES: [Reveal (2), Purity (4)], Heal (16), Stabilize (0), Purify (6), Reflect (4), Damage X(6), Powerful (0), Trap (0), AoE (2), Full Extend (4) SPECIAL: Give Him Thanks - Thanking Apollo after being afflicted by one of his healing melodies restores 10% of his melody's cost. LEITMOTIF: GRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: Bastard - Apollo's face seems to be an extra attractive target. TRIVIA: There is no reward without effort. For Apollo, that applies for everything in his life. His brutal physique was the result of hours spent daily at a gym. His success in life had been a mixture of the extra hours he put in compared to other people and his willingness to crush other people. Of course, someone who works as hard as him has to play even harder. He's a raging bull likely to die before old age destroys his body. He's a shallow womanizer whose relationships all end in lust and abandonment. He drinks so much that the only thing preventing him from becoming an alcoholic is the damage it would do on his physique. In the end, he's an unlikable bastard who can't stop winning. Of course, Apollo was never born this way. In fact, the young child was unrecognizable to his current self. He was a dainty ward of the state. He could barely make eye contact with other people. He bounced around homes and cities often and never really found family. The kid was alone. He only had himself he could trust and rely on. Every adult left him. That cowardly boy realized something. If everyone threw him away, couldn't he just return it in kind? The boy began to use other people. That fearful attitude he possessed as a young child vanished as he made relationships that better served him. He used people around him. If they had something he wanted, he got close to them. As the boy slowly became a man, this aspect of him never changed. Every relationship was based on value to himself. He spent more time working out and working. His fosters didn't care, even as he left the house. One less mouth to feed and all. Soon, the man was unrecognizable. A meteoric rise in his job from knowing and using the right people. His body had shifted from that of a thin adolescent to that of a well-toned man. He got what he wanted and was on the rise to being king of his own little world. His final promotion came a transfer to a larger city. Pax Septimus was an interesting place. Certainly bigger than his old home. More interesting nightlife, more expansive gyms, and more shallow people. He fit right in. It was on a whim that he picked up those earrings. He bought them as a gift from a pawn shop in an alleyway. They were cheap, but looked expensive. A used box and fake card would make them look like a thoughtful, if generic, gift. Still, it was surprising that those earrings were there. At that price, they should have sold the second they touched the store shelf. He just had a feeling that he needed to buy them. With them in hand, he left the pawn shop. It was a surprise that there was an abomination right outside the door. The monster was definitely not human. No amount of scars and defects could give someone a maw that consisted of head-sized gaping hole with a blender of teeth. With earrings in hand, he instantly went to for a devastating hook aimed at the inhuman monster in front of him. As he did so, the earrings seemed to vanish. Instead, another layer of skin covered his body as he struck the monster. Blow for blow, Apollo punched the shit out of that thing. He ignored the weapon that seemed to appear alongside his new skin. When the beast cut him, he instinctively healed himself. It was a brutal blow for blow fight that should have ended faster. With the last of his strength, he tossed a punch clad in light. As he had done so, the monster's head practically vanished as a red mist took its place. He was exhausted and confused as the skin retracted back into a single earring, the other one probably lost during the fight. That was the most alive he'd ever felt. With that experience, he couldn't go back to his normal life. No, he couldn't stomach it anymore. He quit in order to follow the path of that night. Since then, he's been freelancing. After all, it's been something to actually challenge him. 24 \| Male \| Freelancer \| Bastard Tethering the Beast \| Fist, Rope/Chain \| Physical \| Tether Second Skin \| Regrowth God Complex \| Light \| Give Him Thanks [Reveal (2), Purity (4)], Heal (16), Stabilize (0), Purify (6), Reflect (4), Damage X(6), Powerful (0), Trap (0), AoE (2), Full Extend (4) DAMAGE: E \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 750</s> <\|message\|>Klava Pavlova 22 \| Female \| Freelancers \| Meltwater Spring Moya-no-Yume \| Dagger \| Physical \| Frosted Sheen Snowdrop Vestige \| Sangfroid Convention Glacial Stream \| Aqua \| Rime Rose [Freeze, Slick] Damage X, Restrain, Extend, Construction, Trap, Enhance, Mark, Blink, Powerful DAMAGE: D \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: E \| 750 PHYSICAL: E\| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 750 Of all the vehicles that had driven up to face the concrete barrier, there was one that stood out: a second-hand bicycle with a large bell and no light, the chosen steed of the Frost Maiden. Deciding to come to the party transformed this time around, Klava checked her reflection in Moya-no-Yume, ensuring that nothing was off, that none of the burn scars from her last run in with Sofron was still there. It looked good though. Perfectly clear and soothingly soft, with the charming plumpness of youth that all young ladies had. Ah, if only her Leitmotif persisted in her human form too, then maybe she wouldn't have to spend so much on her skin routine. Well, she could also cut down on her love for food, but where's the fun in that? Billy Black and the Mavericks all look suitably monstrous though, something that kept the freelancer on edge but only on edge. There was no point in stressing over what their enemies looked like, after all. The group that was actually invading was going to be freelancers and Maverick espers, so it was very much just a matter of 'attack things that aren't espers. And friendly faces were all around too! There was Fable, the surprisingly spunky but also 100% precocious kiddo, already putting on his approximation of a 'serious professional face, and there was ol' (well, no, it was pretty likely that Protector was actually younger than her) Pro, a hulk in a coffin of metal, bristling with restrained threat. Apollo must be somewhere as well, though she hadn't caught a glimpse of his dime-bouncing butt yet. As she began her own stretches in preparation for vampire-asskicking, Klava asked the decisive question: "So, Billy, there gonna be on-site catering after this? That mansion looks like it could host a whole party, if ya catch my drift."</s> <\|message\|>Aria Sato, The Protector ARIA: THE PROTECTOR \| The Mavericks Reporting to: Billy Black --- Rising Hope needed a few extra hands to tend to the school gardens today-- a little setup built by fellow volunteer teachers to provide more outdoor activities for the kids. A fun time, indeed, so much so that the Protector got carried away in the process, and had to speed to the closest bus upon realizing it was nearly late for its meeting with the other espers. It was seemingly in such a rush that the jingle of its keychain (along with its heavy rumbling steps) as it ran past the pedestrians along the way could probably be heard from the meeting spot itself. Either way, it was only glad it wasn't late. Though transforming right at the bus stop did earn it some funny looks. "Hi, Klava!" The eight-foot-tall hulking suit of armor showed up just after Klava did, arriving in a jog as it waved at its friend with eager semicircle arcs through the air, clearly glad to see her."And hello again-- Apollo!" It shyly raised a gauntleted palm in the air - the same form of greeting the Protector recalled the man using when they first met during their last minute. After greeting the familiar faces, it directed a bow towards the head of the operation, Billy Black, and his fellow mercenaries. While this crowd most definitely intimidated the young esper during its first mission running with the Mavericks, it had gotten used to their more unique and vibrant forms of expression, and gradually grew to respect their way of handling monsters. The same went for the GEMINIs, but this week, it was time to alternate between the two. It hummed as it acknowledged the leader's instructions. Casting a glance around, it didn't take long for the armored sentinel to notice the youngest person in their midst. A child, actually. A bubble of concern immediately rose within the Protector, but not before reminding itself that the people present were all either espers or very-well capable of handling themselves. The nursery teacher rationalized this fairly quickly. After all, it would not deign to underestimate a child, no matter who they were. "Hello, there." A deep, gravelly voice rumbled kindly from inside the hunk of armor, offering its hand to the boy for a good old-fashioned handshake."I go by the Protector. May I have your name as well?"</s>	<\|message\|>Apollo Greit By some miracle, Apollo didn't arrive in style like he usually did. After all, he still had to make up for his previous binge. It took effort to keep his ordinary self in style. In a pair of joggers, running shoes, and a tight shirt that seemed to accentuate every one of his abs, he ran the entire way. Or, at the very least, ran from the nearest parking lot. He already worked with most of his allies on this mission. Though, the appearance of a small and puntable child was new. Still, having the Protector to block for him and the Maiden to run interference made the idea of fighting vampires a little better. He didn't exactly know if his light aspected melodies would be important to deal with vampires. There was always a line between fiction and reality, after all. He could guess that a stake in the heart would be a weakness, but that was a weakness of most living things. Well, those thoughts were useless. He gave a confident but simple greeting back to the protector. A hey and a quick hand wave. In any case, the plan was simple. Break in, start shit, don't die. Pretty simple and easy to do. With mantrap in hand, skin over his face, and joggers to hide the mystery of what that skin covering did to his bits, he was ready to fight. "Lead the way. I'll try to keep you guys alive."</s>
<\|description\|>Apollo Greit 24 y/o \| Male \| 6'7" \| 260 lbs \| Freelancer ↕ APPEARANCE: At 6'7" with a mountain of muscle to fill out his clothes, Apollo draws attention wherever he goes. It doesn't help that he has a sharp face and clear skin. His dark hair is rough, but gives him a wild sort of look. When in his esper form, an extra layer of skin covers his body. He appears as though someone forgot to sculpt a face on his chiselled body. While quick, his transformation looks as though an extra layer of skin spreads from the origin of his earring. GRIMIORE: A simple and small diamond earring worn on his right ear. INSTRUMENT: Tethering the Beast A full arm gauntlet with a manacle resting on the back of his hand and 15 feet of chain around his arm. While appearing to be made out of metal, it seems too bestial to be compared to a knight's armour. GRADE: Silver KEYWORD: Hand, rope/chain DAMAGE TYPE: Physical DAMAGE: D SPEED: C SENTINEL: C SPECIAL: Tether - Apollo can fire the manacle as though it were a projectile and have it latch onto whatever it strikes. Apollo can also release the manacle after it has latched onto something. Striking the manacle with an E-rank attack causes it to prematurely open. After being opened this way, the manacle can not be fired for 12 seconds (2 combat rounds, usually). STYLE: Second Skin A thin extra layer of skin covers Apollo and all of his discernible features. One could almost say he looked like a super hero, save for the blank face, lack of cape, and flesh colourway. GRADE: Bronze PHYSICAL: E ARCANE: D CHAOS: C SPECIAL: Regrowth - Superficial wounds, grazing hits, and other light external injuries that would have no real effect rapidly regenerate. Genre: God Complex Apollo holds the power of life and death over others. Though in his case, the majority of that is life. GRADE: Silver ELEMENT: Light NOTES: [Reveal (2), Purity (4)], Heal (16), Stabilize (0), Purify (6), Reflect (4), Damage X(6), Powerful (0), Trap (0), AoE (2), Full Extend (4) SPECIAL: Give Him Thanks - Thanking Apollo after being afflicted by one of his healing melodies restores 10% of his melody's cost. LEITMOTIF: GRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: Bastard - Apollo's face seems to be an extra attractive target. TRIVIA: There is no reward without effort. For Apollo, that applies for everything in his life. His brutal physique was the result of hours spent daily at a gym. His success in life had been a mixture of the extra hours he put in compared to other people and his willingness to crush other people. Of course, someone who works as hard as him has to play even harder. He's a raging bull likely to die before old age destroys his body. He's a shallow womanizer whose relationships all end in lust and abandonment. He drinks so much that the only thing preventing him from becoming an alcoholic is the damage it would do on his physique. In the end, he's an unlikable bastard who can't stop winning. Of course, Apollo was never born this way. In fact, the young child was unrecognizable to his current self. He was a dainty ward of the state. He could barely make eye contact with other people. He bounced around homes and cities often and never really found family. The kid was alone. He only had himself he could trust and rely on. Every adult left him. That cowardly boy realized something. If everyone threw him away, couldn't he just return it in kind? The boy began to use other people. That fearful attitude he possessed as a young child vanished as he made relationships that better served him. He used people around him. If they had something he wanted, he got close to them. As the boy slowly became a man, this aspect of him never changed. Every relationship was based on value to himself. He spent more time working out and working. His fosters didn't care, even as he left the house. One less mouth to feed and all. Soon, the man was unrecognizable. A meteoric rise in his job from knowing and using the right people. His body had shifted from that of a thin adolescent to that of a well-toned man. He got what he wanted and was on the rise to being king of his own little world. His final promotion came a transfer to a larger city. Pax Septimus was an interesting place. Certainly bigger than his old home. More interesting nightlife, more expansive gyms, and more shallow people. He fit right in. It was on a whim that he picked up those earrings. He bought them as a gift from a pawn shop in an alleyway. They were cheap, but looked expensive. A used box and fake card would make them look like a thoughtful, if generic, gift. Still, it was surprising that those earrings were there. At that price, they should have sold the second they touched the store shelf. He just had a feeling that he needed to buy them. With them in hand, he left the pawn shop. It was a surprise that there was an abomination right outside the door. The monster was definitely not human. No amount of scars and defects could give someone a maw that consisted of head-sized gaping hole with a blender of teeth. With earrings in hand, he instantly went to for a devastating hook aimed at the inhuman monster in front of him. As he did so, the earrings seemed to vanish. Instead, another layer of skin covered his body as he struck the monster. Blow for blow, Apollo punched the shit out of that thing. He ignored the weapon that seemed to appear alongside his new skin. When the beast cut him, he instinctively healed himself. It was a brutal blow for blow fight that should have ended faster. With the last of his strength, he tossed a punch clad in light. As he had done so, the monster's head practically vanished as a red mist took its place. He was exhausted and confused as the skin retracted back into a single earring, the other one probably lost during the fight. That was the most alive he'd ever felt. With that experience, he couldn't go back to his normal life. No, he couldn't stomach it anymore. He quit in order to follow the path of that night. Since then, he's been freelancing. After all, it's been something to actually challenge him. 24 \| Male \| Freelancer \| Bastard Tethering the Beast \| Fist, Rope/Chain \| Physical \| Tether Second Skin \| Regrowth God Complex \| Light \| Give Him Thanks [Reveal (2), Purity (4)], Heal (16), Stabilize (0), Purify (6), Reflect (4), Damage X(6), Powerful (0), Trap (0), AoE (2), Full Extend (4) DAMAGE: E \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 750</s> <\|message\|>Klava Pavlova 22 \| Female \| Freelancers \| Meltwater Spring Moya-no-Yume \| Dagger \| Physical \| Frosted Sheen Snowdrop Vestige \| Sangfroid Convention Glacial Stream \| Aqua \| Rime Rose [Freeze, Slick] Damage X, Restrain, Extend, Construction, Trap, Enhance, Mark, Blink, Powerful DAMAGE: D \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: E \| 750 [Silver Touch + Construction + Slick] = 150 Mana PHYSICAL: E\| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 440 @Majoras End@OwO@mantou Flames all around, exploding beside her as she ducked and wove. VIP and healer cut off from the rest. Titan in front, pyros behind. Ghost off to the side, naturally able to bypass any obstacles. And in the distance stood a violinist, a pale-skinned aberration amongst the increasing chaos. Smoke wafted down, soot coating her skin before cool waters naturally washed it off. The heat did not sting her eyes, nor did the flames ignite her traumas. Through the haze, Klava recognized the violinist. The one that was kidnapped, the one that was enthralled. Finn, clad in lightning, was already off. Did he have a personal connection? Did it matter? Youthful passions lent itself easily to a desire to save the damsel above all else, but the Maiden did not feel such passions herself. She was as fair as frost. She was as cold as laws. She brushed her hands against the sides of her head, pulling back her bangs and clearing up her vision. One breath. Compared to the fantastical capabilities of monsters and magi, unrestrained by the laws of Melodies and Notes, Espers were individuals bound by scarce resources. It was in that scarcity, though, that an Esper's greatest strength could be unveiled. Imagination and resourcefulness, rounded out by the knowledge that they had two lives compared to the one of their foes. Her blade hissed coldly. Her mind rested at a razor point. I hadn't realized storms were so gentle. Well, there were no grandpas here. "Protector, switch and take care of the backline. Weapons only, team with Apollo to restrain and kill the pyros. Tetrad, your wand shoots magic. Focus the ghost. Don't need you to kill it, just occupy it. We'll secure our back first. I'll handle Big Bob. Stay frosty all." Another breath, deeper, for a voice loud enough to be heard over a blizzard. "And Timekeeper! Focus on evasion and keep the girl between you and the pyros!" Her piece said, Klava clapped Protector on the back as she stepped forth, right to the edge of the charred and blazing heap that cut the pathway in half. Here, the pyromancers wouldn't have a shot on her unless they wanted to get right up at the gap. She raised one leg up, then stomped it down onto the ground, the chiming of bells sounding brightly as the Esper adopted a wide stance. Her arms raised out to the side, palms facing the gargantuan foe as if to embrace them. "Ha ha ha ha," the dark-haired esper said, mimicking the robotic laughter of her foe. "You're proof enough that the strength of machinery is a sham. I'll rent out your lady with the money I make off your scraps." Arcane power built beneath her skin, the resonance of a melody sending chills down her spine. It was always a gamble, but Klava was compulsive. At the moment it broke into a sprint, she would Construct a curved slope, Slicked enough to prevent any sudden deceleration. A slope that would extend right into the ceiling, to send the robotic cretin right into stone and dirt. It had proven resistant to magic. Now the question: was it resistant to itself? Well, if she had to run because it actually turned out to be a lightning beam cannon that Big Bob was building up, that was fine too. Klava's Mark on Apollo's ass, after all, still remained as her get-out-of-jail card.</s> <\|message\|>Marrie Knight Marrie Knight Marrie turned the corner and ran into a girl with a chainsaw in her stomach. How it was stuck there while running was beyond her, magic presumably. Otherwise it would cut through her thanks to gravity, right? So the girl must not just be a zombie, but likely an Esper as well. She managed to procure that much before the zombie made her final lap around her, stopping too close for comfort with the chainsaw in relation to Marrie. "Can't we, like... convince them to let us through? And why do we need... oh, right, the giant snake. Alright, sure, let's go talk to them." If nothing else, if the goblins started a fight, Marrie was confident she could get past them and that they'd then distract the HFIL out of the HFHL. ... Maybe the fact that she made dragonball jokes in life or death situations had something to do with why god hated her enough to send the serpent after her. She began walking towards the goblins, turning the light off. --- 19 \| Female \| Freelancer \| Misty Steps Apex Predator \| Dagger \| Physical \| Mirror Shine Wind-Carved Glacier \| Masking Step of the Hurricane \| Wind \| Riding the Currents [Storm (4), Flight (6)] Damage X (6), Slow Fall (4), Blink (4), Magic Sense (6), Heal (16), Portal (8), Rain (2), Bounce (0), If Foe (0) DAMAGE: E \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: C \| 614 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 614</s>	<\|message\|>Apollo Greit With new pyromancers appearing, Apollo had suddenly found himself bombarded by fireballs. Of course, he did have a large indestructible way to defend himself. As the fireballs from purple and two-tone came at him, he swatted them away with his spear. Sure, it fucking stung as the pyrokinetics burst on his mantrap and the vibrations carried themselves to his hands, but he was fine. If Billy's hunk of rock could stop it with very little damage, Apollo swatting them out of the way wouldn't be much damage. "Fucking christ!" He yelled in annoyance. "Why does every mission have to be fire everywhere and people coming out of shit like it's a clown car!" Rather than saying this to nobody, it looked like he was directly yelling it at two-tone, briefly recharging after he threw a few fireballs. In his fit of annoyance, Apollo went, for lack of a better term, berserk. Quickly turning around, he swung his mantrap at green-hair's skull, absolutely cranking him with the hunk of metal. Once he had done so, he spun to deal with the two pyromancers who had been blasting him. In a feat of reckless abandon, he charged two-tone with his man trap with the aim of locking him within its jaws. Once collected, he'd push him directly into purple and go from there. He'd probably just hide behind the two of them if needed. Ghost-gurt man would probably do something. Might as well use the teenagers for something. --- 24 \| Male \| Freelancer \| Bastard Restraining Order \| Spear \| Physical \| Unenforceable Second Skin \| Regrowth God Complex \| Light \| Give Him Thanks [Reveal (2), Purity (4)], Heal (16), Stabilize (0), Purify (6), Reflect (4), Damage X(6), Powerful (0), Trap (0), AoE (2), Full Extend (4) DAMAGE: E \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 660</s>
<\|description\|>Klava Pavlova 22 y/o \| Female \| 5'9 \| 148 lbs \| Freelancer ❄ GrimoireAn aquamarine prayer stick. The fortune on it reads, in Chinese characters, 'Calamitous Fortune'. It's been repurposed as a hairpin. InstrumentMoya-no-Yume – A dagger with a hilt long enough to be comfortably held in two hands. The construction of the handguard includes embellishments of carp and streams, while the fabric that wraps around the hilt is an aged indigo. The blade is unremarkable, but well-maintained. GRADE: Bronze KEYWORD: Dagger DAMAGE TYPE: Physical DAMAGE: D SPEED: C SENTINEL: E SPECIAL: Frosted Sheen – Moya-no-Yume's blade is cold to the touch, and in warmer temperatures will exude a faint mist. StyleImpermanence of Spring Snow – A modified variation of a shrine maiden's garments, featuring colors that evoke both the cold chill of winter and the vibrant colors of spring. Purple and yellow sashes secure a dark blue hakama around Klava's waist, while her bosom is wrapped in white cloth hemmed with magenta. Cerulean prayer beads hang from her neck, humming with spiritual power, and arcane tattoos are inscribed upon her arms to ward off the advance of evil. Her footwear remain impractical, timber getas elevated like high heels, with a golden bell suspended within the soles. It's no longer impossible to move in though, and the sharper corners allow for better gliding. GRADE: Silver PHYSICAL: E ARCANE: B CHAOS: C SPECIAL: Boreas's Caress – Klava's sashes, three meters in length, have some degree of prehensility and autonomy. While she is in motion, her sashes act to assist in her movements, snagging onto the environment or weaving together into temporary cushions to allow for sharp turns and quick deceleration or to cushion impacts. These sashes can be destroyed by an E-rank attack, recovering at the start of the next round. Genre:Glacial Stream – The freezing waters that Klava eloquently manipulates to disarm and restrain her foes are but precursors to the glacier-sized mass she bludgeons them with when mercy is off the table. GRADE: Silver ELEMENT: Aqua NOTES: [Freeze (2), Slick (2)] Damage (2), Restrain (4), Push (2), Extend (2), Construction (4), Craft (2), Mark (0), Blink (4), Bend (0) SPECIAL: Rime Rose – Klava's ice is as clear as glass and as enduring as permafrost. Elemental constructs formed from her Genre counts as one rank higher. LeitmotifGRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: Meltwater Spring – Klava's body and clothing remain clean no matter how dirty her surroundings or what attack she's struck by. 22 \| Female \| Freelancers \| Meltwater Spring Moya-no-Yume \| Dagger \| Physical \| Frosted Sheen Snowdrop Vestige \| Sangfroid Convention Glacial Stream \| Aqua \| Rime Rose [Freeze, Slick] Damage X, Restrain, Extend, Construction, Trap, Enhance, Mark, Blink, Powerful DAMAGE: D \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: E \| 750 PHYSICAL: E\| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 750</s> <\|message\|>Aria Sato, The Protector ARIA: THE PROTECTOR \| PSPD #11 Reporting to: G.E.M.I.N.I. Agents The teacher waved her last remaining student goodbye and watched him be driven off before shifting her attention to the Shimr app. A quick swipe and she was all set. With hands clasped tight around her keychain, she muttered a small prayer in her native tongue before her body dispersed into light, transforming into... ...a massive 8'0" suit of pure, leaden armor. On its back rested a massive shield that seemed to add on more to the giant suit's weight, but it seemed to not mind. Each of its weighted steps sounded heavily throughout the area, accompanied by a little jingle as the keychain attached to its cuirass shook. It showed up at the given assembly area stated in the app a little earlier than the meetup time. Tardiness was a no-no, after all. A slight whirring noise came as its metal head rotated left to right to scan the area. It was not hard for it to spot the three women standing together. One was heavily plated in armor, much like itself. It admired her shield, giving her an internal thumbs-up. The other seemed to have green hair- this, it was sure the little students would love to see. The third seemed apprehensive but had an air of seriousness about her, especially taking into account the rifle in her arms. The fourth stood relaxed, in a shiny, seemingly well-maintained suit of armor. The Protector hauled itself to the group, eager to meet its teammates. It towered over the trio and greeted politely: "Good evening, everyone. I am Protector." A deep, gravelly voice rumbled from within the confines of the helmeted suit of armor. "And you?" --- 20 \| Female \| The Freelancers \| Guardian Protector's Treaty \| Spear, Shield \| Arcane \| Aegis Protector's Stronghold \| Shelter Protector's Mandate \| Gravity \| Fortification [Weightless (4), Suspend X (4)], Blink (4), Restrain (4), Pull (2), AoE (2), Powerful (0), Shield (4) DAMAGE: D \| SPEED: E \| SENTINEL: B \| 500 PHYSICAL: D \| ARCANE: E \| CHAOS: D \| 500</s> <\|message\|>Jacqueline Leroux Jacqueline Leroux She was being driven to the precinct in what was basically a giant metal cage, and it was utterly silent. Jacqueline didn't show it, but she was bored. The only silver lining was that her esper outfit didn't make her all the more uncomfortable, despite logic dictating that wearing full plate should. Jay was glad to arrive at the location, because at least it got her out of the awkward, suffocating enclosed space. She surveyed the surroundings, hoping to catch signs of trouble – but there was nothing on the outside. She stood guard while she waited, gaze perfunctorily wandering here and there, just in case someone or something dangerous showed up. Jacqueline noted one of her co-workers, Valkyrie was as serious as ever. Not that she herself was lax, but Jay had recognized from working alongside her that the other woman took their duty very personally. She couldn't help but wonder if she could keep up being so stiff and inflexible even several years down the line. Should just worry about myself. Jacqueline let out a slightly longer exhale, then moved closer to where conversation between Breacher and Blinky ensued. "A few freelancers, huh. Don't have nothing against them, but it's annoying how we've no clue how many'll show up till they do. Oh, well." She ignored the part about Breacher's daughter, as she wasn't really interested. But she did pitch in at the end. "To a good one," she said simply. She shifted her war pick to her left, and offered her right to Blinky and Breacher. She didn't bother with Valkyrie, since she either wasn't interested or that weapon really was too cumbersome. A moment passed, and all was quiet again. "So, chance of monster involvement?" she asked idly. However, her tone indicated she didn't expect anything non-human this time. It wasn't long till their first Freelancer helper arrived. They were a giant suited-up soldier, and drew attention from far away. "Evenin'. Just call me Leroux. Pleasure to meet you," Jay introduced herself with a nod.</s> <\|message\|>Apollo Greit Apollo Greit The roar of six cylinders echoed against the concrete buildings. It certainly wasn't sneaky, but someone driving a car for assholes like an asshole was considerably less conspicuous than the government armoured vehicles that crept through the streets. Apollo certainly wasn't planning to work today. He was just out for a rip. However, a job on Shimr and government vehicles entering was at least interesting enough to show up. The aggressive car came to a stop some distance away as the engine's roar was replaced by equally aggressive music muffled by closed windows. As the music went silent alongside the engine, a large figure left the poorly parked car. With a shirt that was a size too small, aviators, and a golden necklace, he certainly didn't like a government stooge. In fact, he looked closer to one of the people who would have chosen to occupy a police station. Quickly, his aviators were removed and placed on the collar of his shirt. A second skin began to grow and cover his personal features. Though, his clothing was unaffected by this. There were already a couple of people there. It was pretty easy to tell which ones were freelancers and which ones were agents, even if he had never worked with or seen them before. Agents usually ended up looking the same. Though this time, it appeared there were two armoured persons. Well, it wasn't like like the armour actually did anything. The armour from the 8" giant did look sturdier than the other woman's, though. He approached the group with his phone in hand and the screen showing the Shimr job open and visible. His appearance as a faceless Adonis tended to get him questioned more than anything else. Letting others see that he was a freelancer was the best way to expedite the process of not getting questioned or tackled. Still, he introduced himself to the group. "I'm Apollo," he succinctly stated. "You can think of me as a healer, more or less." With it being a mystery of if that was his nickname or his actual name, he held out a fist for the giant to bump. Tall people had to stick together, even if the Protector undoubtedly got a few feet from their esper form. With his fist still extended, he glanced over to his right. Without missing a beat, his head quickly recoiled as a girl with a gun seemed to suddenly appear. Or was always there? Still shocked him. --- 24 \| Male \| Freelancer \| Bastard Restraining Order \| Spear \| Physical \| Unenforceable Second Skin \| Regrowth God Complex \| Light \| Give Him Thanks [Reveal (2), Purity (4)], Heal (16), Stabilize (0), Purify (6), Reflect (4), Damage X(6), Powerful (0), Trap (0), AoE (2), Full Extend (4) DAMAGE: E \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 750</s>	<\|message\|>Klava Pavlova 22 \| Female \| Freelancers \| Meltwater Spring Moya-no-Yume \| Dagger \| Physical \| Frosted Sheen Snowdrop Vestige \| Sangfroid Convention Glacial Stream \| Aqua \| Rime Rose [Freeze, Cold Insulation] Damage X, Restrain, Dispel, Rain, Trap, Enhance, Trigger, Blink, Powerful DAMAGE: D \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: E \| 750 PHYSICAL: E\| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 750 The roar of the muscle car, six cylinders blasting with dramatic aplomb, masked the sound of the rattling of a bike chain through its gears. In the aural shadow cast by Apollo's Douchecruiser, Klava cycled down the streets of Pax Septimus on her secondhand bike, dressed in a jumpsuit with an old toque keeping her head warm. City of Blood it may be, drenched in the misery of all its residents, but it was her home as well. Even before she became an Esper, Klava had cycled down these streets, had played in these parks, had studied in these schools and shopped in these stores. She knew how to live here, just as how so many others did. After all, Pax Septimus still had a population of citizens, no matter the sheer amount of villainy present within alleys, sewers, and basements. Pockets of comfort and safety existed, even if only psychologically, and though threads on Shimr had been blowing up recently about the disappearance of Bastion's leader and the massacre uncovered there, life aboveground remained the same it always has been…disregarding the power vacuum that was drawing the government back into this bloody city. Outsiders in fancy suits and shiny trucks, having sat on their hands for decades and only moving now that there was a chance to claim this miserable city for themselves. Klava certainly couldn't say that she was a fan of such opportunistic decision-making. But that was why she was working for them this time around, wasn't it? The squeaking of her brakes sounded in unison to the hiss of Apollo's engine. The musclefreak was well-known enough for being the only competent healer amongst Pax Septimus's freelancer community, while the sci-fi juggernaut known as the Protector had a reputation as well, one primarily based off jokes online of her armor being made out of paper. And as for the rest…well, of course Klava'd know nothing about them. They weren't even a thing in Pax Septimus a year ago, after all. "Hey," she waved, mimicking Apollo's moves with the whole 'flipping out Shimr app like a police badge' deal. "I'm not with stupid here, but I took the job too. Klava. Nice to meetcha. Got any complimentary snacks or a coffee machine somewhere? And where can I lock my bike?" Her eyes bounced from one of the government espers to another and one corner of her lips twitched into a smile. Two of them looked like girls from the university's anime club, while the third looked like someone who stepped out of a dark fantasy movie set. "A map of the precinct would be pretty cash too. I specc in traps and restraints."</s>
<\|description\|>Klava Pavlova 22 y/o \| Female \| 5'9 \| 148 lbs \| Freelancer ❄ GrimoireAn aquamarine prayer stick. The fortune on it reads, in Chinese characters, 'Calamitous Fortune'. It's been repurposed as a hairpin. InstrumentMoya-no-Yume – A dagger with a hilt long enough to be comfortably held in two hands. The construction of the handguard includes embellishments of carp and streams, while the fabric that wraps around the hilt is an aged indigo. The blade is unremarkable, but well-maintained. GRADE: Bronze KEYWORD: Dagger DAMAGE TYPE: Physical DAMAGE: D SPEED: C SENTINEL: E SPECIAL: Frosted Sheen – Moya-no-Yume's blade is cold to the touch, and in warmer temperatures will exude a faint mist. StyleImpermanence of Spring Snow – A modified variation of a shrine maiden's garments, featuring colors that evoke both the cold chill of winter and the vibrant colors of spring. Purple and yellow sashes secure a dark blue hakama around Klava's waist, while her bosom is wrapped in white cloth hemmed with magenta. Cerulean prayer beads hang from her neck, humming with spiritual power, and arcane tattoos are inscribed upon her arms to ward off the advance of evil. Her footwear remain impractical, timber getas elevated like high heels, with a golden bell suspended within the soles. It's no longer impossible to move in though, and the sharper corners allow for better gliding. GRADE: Silver PHYSICAL: E ARCANE: B CHAOS: C SPECIAL: Boreas's Caress – Klava's sashes, three meters in length, have some degree of prehensility and autonomy. While she is in motion, her sashes act to assist in her movements, snagging onto the environment or weaving together into temporary cushions to allow for sharp turns and quick deceleration or to cushion impacts. These sashes can be destroyed by an E-rank attack, recovering at the start of the next round. Genre:Glacial Stream – The freezing waters that Klava eloquently manipulates to disarm and restrain her foes are but precursors to the glacier-sized mass she bludgeons them with when mercy is off the table. GRADE: Silver ELEMENT: Aqua NOTES: [Freeze (2), Slick (2)] Damage (2), Restrain (4), Push (2), Extend (2), Construction (4), Craft (2), Mark (0), Blink (4), Bend (0) SPECIAL: Rime Rose – Klava's ice is as clear as glass and as enduring as permafrost. Elemental constructs formed from her Genre counts as one rank higher. LeitmotifGRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: Meltwater Spring – Klava's body and clothing remain clean no matter how dirty her surroundings or what attack she's struck by. 22 \| Female \| Freelancers \| Meltwater Spring Moya-no-Yume \| Dagger \| Physical \| Frosted Sheen Snowdrop Vestige \| Sangfroid Convention Glacial Stream \| Aqua \| Rime Rose [Freeze, Slick] Damage X, Restrain, Extend, Construction, Trap, Enhance, Mark, Blink, Powerful DAMAGE: D \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: E \| 750 PHYSICAL: E\| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 750</s> <\|message\|>Marrie Knight Marrie Knight Marrie puked up from the smell and was glad that she hadn't eaten today. "When I heard 'catacombs,' I didn't think I'd have to go through the sewers..." she managed to mumble before blowing all the air out of her mouth and quickly closing it, hoping to get the fumes out of her. She glanced at Pac-A-Fist, considering whether to ask if they were coming with, but decided it wasn't worth opening her mouth for. She thanked the gods that the catacombs weren't synonymous with the sewers, shook her head 'no' at Pac-A-Fist's question, and went through the opening. Sure, the Bates were likely to draw the snake's attention, but if they were headed the same way Marrie was, ultimately, then she'd probably end up fighting it. As soon as the smell went away she sighed at the thought, taking comfort in the thought that maybe it could talk and they could just work things out. But with the Bates being the way they seemed, especially the girl, that probably wasn't going to happen. She touched the wall next to the entrance and placed a portal on it, just to be safe. --- 19 \| Female \| Freelancer \| Misty Steps Apex Predator \| Dagger \| Physical \| Mirror Shine Wind-Carved Glacier \| Masking Step of the Hurricane \| Wind \| Riding the Currents [Storm (4), Flight (6)] Damage X (6), Slow Fall (4), Blink (4), Magic Sense (6), Heal (16), Portal (8), Rain (2), Bounce (0), If Foe (0) DAMAGE: E \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: C \| 750 Bronze Touch - Portal: -64 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 686</s> <\|message\|>Jacqueline Leroux Jacqueline Leroux Jacqueline was once again being driven somewhere, mildly bored. Still, the anticipation of an oncoming battle was enough to prevent her from dozing off. Even though she'd prefer to occupy herself somehow, professionalism prevented it. Otherwise, she might have pulled out her phone to play Tetris, or something. As it was, she'd spent some time by inspecting the agents around her. She supposed, after their dinner, she knew Su the best. Valkyrie, Silhouette, and Wukong had been there on the previous mission, but she'd only briefly interacted with Valkyrie. Orion was the newbie, so she'd not even met her yet. Maybe after this mission, she should try get to know some of the others. The tense awkwardness of this silence, where no one really knew another, and wasn't willing to make small talk – even if it would just be about mission related stuff – was annoying. Thankfully, that was when Binky briefed them on the situation. The way Jacqueline understood it, they'd be taking the front entrance, which would have been too risky under usual circumstances, but would now be rendered safer due to the recently captured blood mage. Jacqueline wondered if the woman was getting paid, or if she was doing that just to exercise her arcane muscles. It seemed to her that Binky mentioned the back entrance just to make it a point that's where they would have had to go if they hadn't the blood mage. Well, that, and to relate it to the information about the Maverick henchmen being their direct competitors this time. It was due to this supposition of hers, that she was entirely taken aback when the discussion of a vote began. "Quoi?" she expressed her confusion, in a rare occasion briefly falling back to her mother tongue. She shook her head, and looked from Valkyrie to Silhouette. "Who ever said anything about a vote?" though she'd glanced from one coworker to another, it was more or less a rhetorical question. Frowning, she thought back on what exactly Binky said. She realized that her words may imply a choice that was for them to make…But that was really unusual. For one, Jacqueline didn't believe she or any of her coworkers present here (with the exception of Binky) had the kind of clout to make such a decision. It wasn't just a minor here-or-there alteration of a mission parameter either. It was the kind of judgement that carried political weight. If they went through Bastion, Maverick's new base in Pax, wouldn't they be basically announcing they were ready and willing to take the whole of Maverick on? That seemed a bit premature in her opinion. For another, asking them to decide now wasn't in accordance to the rule of TPO. Only the occasion was somewhat (though questionably) appropriate. The time and place…Well, if they picked the front entrance, and the blood mage was neither willing nor ready to assist, what would be the point of them being made to choose or going exactly there in the first place? Finally, she looked towards Binky for clarification, raising her brows in wordless question. If they really were supposed to have the final start as to their entry point, she'd give her assent to a frontal assault. It was the more sensible option, for more than one reason. --- --- Havoc \| Great Axe \| Arcane \| Pry Eternal Knight \| Perfectly polished Forged Arsenal \| Earth/Metal \| Fissure [Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), AoE (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Shield (4) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: D \| 500 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 500</s> <\|message\|>Ashley Avenir, The Knight of Tomorrow Ashley was filled with a mixture of eager excitement and nervous trepidation as the van made its way through the streets of Pax Septimus. Although she had run through a training course under Binky's supervision and recently taken part in her first field mission, alongside Agent Silhouette, this would be the first time she would be participating in an operation as part of a full G.E.M.I.N.I. team. Looking around the somewhat cramped van, Ashley glanced at each of her fellow agents in turn. She was already familiar with the green-haired Binky and the nightmarish (and endearingly studious) Silhouette, but she only knew the others from what she had learned from their personnel files. On the more experienced side, there was the tough, no-nonsense Dragon Breacher and the equally imposing armored woman beside her, Agent Leroux, one of the rare few agents that didn't use a codename. On the more youthful end of the scale were Agents Wukong and Valkyrie, an interesting pair, to say the least. Where the former, simian-themed young woman looked like a bundle of fidgety energy waiting to be unleashed, the latter seemed to be taking a nap, as though she were utterly unbothered by the impeding mission. Perhaps the enormous gauss rifle propped up against her was the source of the young agent's lack of concern, Ashley reflected. It was a truly fascinating weapon, to be sure, and Ashley made a mental note to ask her teammate about it once the current operation had safely concluded. That was about when the van hit a bump, and Binky used the attention-grabbing event to initiate a small pre-mission briefing. It was little more than a recap of what they already knew, but Ashley was thankful for the additional reminder. After all, one could never tell when an important detail might be forgotten. They had quite the challenge ahead of them, that much was abundantly clear, but dealing with threats like Justin von Carnage was the reason Ashley had joined G.E.M.I.N.I. in the first place. Thus, the Knight of Tomorrow was determined to support her teammates to the very best of her ability. Binky concluded her briefing by offering to answer any questions, at which point Valkyrie and Silhouette spoke up, both agreeing that a bold assault upon the front door was the best way to apprehend von Carnage in a timely manner. "That sounds like the most logical course of action to me, as well," Ashley chimed in, before Leroux inquired what all this talk of 'votes' was about. Yeah, that was a bit odd, Ashley reflected, but she didn't feel that this was the right time to address such an admittedly minor bit of confusion. There were far more pertinent matters she wished to have some additional clarification on. "Um, what sort of barrier will this 'blood mage' be providing?" the Knight of Tomorrow inquired. "In particular, can our own ranged melodies and weaponry be fired through it? And can it be walked through, by us, or our adversaries?" --- 18 \| Female \| GEMINI \| Vision of Tomorrow Implements of Tomorrow \| Wand, Shield \| Arcane \| Tune of Tomorrow Raiment of Tomorrow \| Stride of Tomorrow Light of Tomorrow \| Light \| Power of Tomorrow [Reveal (2), Purity (4)], Damage (2), Damage X (6), Shield (4), Reflect (4), Heal (6), Major Heal (18), AoE (2), Powerful (0), Piercing (2) DAMAGE: C \| SPEED: E \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 750</s>	<\|message\|>Klava Pavlova 22 \| Female \| Freelancers \| Meltwater Spring Moya-no-Yume \| Dagger \| Physical \| Frosted Sheen Snowdrop Vestige \| Sangfroid Convention Glacial Stream \| Aqua \| Rime Rose [Freeze, Slick] Damage X, Restrain, Extend, Construction, Trap, Enhance, Mark, Blink, Powerful DAMAGE: D \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: E \| 750 PHYSICAL: E\| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 750 Of all the vehicles that had driven up to face the concrete barrier, there was one that stood out: a second-hand bicycle with a large bell and no light, the chosen steed of the Frost Maiden. Deciding to come to the party transformed this time around, Klava checked her reflection in Moya-no-Yume, ensuring that nothing was off, that none of the burn scars from her last run in with Sofron was still there. It looked good though. Perfectly clear and soothingly soft, with the charming plumpness of youth that all young ladies had. Ah, if only her Leitmotif persisted in her human form too, then maybe she wouldn't have to spend so much on her skin routine. Well, she could also cut down on her love for food, but where's the fun in that? Billy Black and the Mavericks all look suitably monstrous though, something that kept the freelancer on edge but only on edge. There was no point in stressing over what their enemies looked like, after all. The group that was actually invading was going to be freelancers and Maverick espers, so it was very much just a matter of 'attack things that aren't espers. And friendly faces were all around too! There was Fable, the surprisingly spunky but also 100% precocious kiddo, already putting on his approximation of a 'serious professional face, and there was ol' (well, no, it was pretty likely that Protector was actually younger than her) Pro, a hulk in a coffin of metal, bristling with restrained threat. Apollo must be somewhere as well, though she hadn't caught a glimpse of his dime-bouncing butt yet. As she began her own stretches in preparation for vampire-asskicking, Klava asked the decisive question: "So, Billy, there gonna be on-site catering after this? That mansion looks like it could host a whole party, if ya catch my drift."</s>
<\|description\|>Klava Pavlova 22 y/o \| Female \| 5'9 \| 148 lbs \| Freelancer ❄ GrimoireAn aquamarine prayer stick. The fortune on it reads, in Chinese characters, 'Calamitous Fortune'. It's been repurposed as a hairpin. InstrumentMoya-no-Yume – A dagger with a hilt long enough to be comfortably held in two hands. The construction of the handguard includes embellishments of carp and streams, while the fabric that wraps around the hilt is an aged indigo. The blade is unremarkable, but well-maintained. GRADE: Bronze KEYWORD: Dagger DAMAGE TYPE: Physical DAMAGE: D SPEED: C SENTINEL: E SPECIAL: Frosted Sheen – Moya-no-Yume's blade is cold to the touch, and in warmer temperatures will exude a faint mist. StyleImpermanence of Spring Snow – A modified variation of a shrine maiden's garments, featuring colors that evoke both the cold chill of winter and the vibrant colors of spring. Purple and yellow sashes secure a dark blue hakama around Klava's waist, while her bosom is wrapped in white cloth hemmed with magenta. Cerulean prayer beads hang from her neck, humming with spiritual power, and arcane tattoos are inscribed upon her arms to ward off the advance of evil. Her footwear remain impractical, timber getas elevated like high heels, with a golden bell suspended within the soles. It's no longer impossible to move in though, and the sharper corners allow for better gliding. GRADE: Silver PHYSICAL: E ARCANE: B CHAOS: C SPECIAL: Boreas's Caress – Klava's sashes, three meters in length, have some degree of prehensility and autonomy. While she is in motion, her sashes act to assist in her movements, snagging onto the environment or weaving together into temporary cushions to allow for sharp turns and quick deceleration or to cushion impacts. These sashes can be destroyed by an E-rank attack, recovering at the start of the next round. Genre:Glacial Stream – The freezing waters that Klava eloquently manipulates to disarm and restrain her foes are but precursors to the glacier-sized mass she bludgeons them with when mercy is off the table. GRADE: Silver ELEMENT: Aqua NOTES: [Freeze (2), Slick (2)] Damage (2), Restrain (4), Push (2), Extend (2), Construction (4), Craft (2), Mark (0), Blink (4), Bend (0) SPECIAL: Rime Rose – Klava's ice is as clear as glass and as enduring as permafrost. Elemental constructs formed from her Genre counts as one rank higher. LeitmotifGRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: Meltwater Spring – Klava's body and clothing remain clean no matter how dirty her surroundings or what attack she's struck by. 22 \| Female \| Freelancers \| Meltwater Spring Moya-no-Yume \| Dagger \| Physical \| Frosted Sheen Snowdrop Vestige \| Sangfroid Convention Glacial Stream \| Aqua \| Rime Rose [Freeze, Slick] Damage X, Restrain, Extend, Construction, Trap, Enhance, Mark, Blink, Powerful DAMAGE: D \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: E \| 750 PHYSICAL: E\| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 750</s> <\|message\|>SILMERIA MAGNUSSON --Mission Report: Inconclusive-- Phew... Much to her genuine relief, Protector could indeed see reason and decided that the children were worth her life more than Billy's lofty ambitions, what with the Freelancers' original goal of slaying Justin and rescuing this Betty no longer an option. As things stood, it was just the White WBitch left and though it had just been an inkling before, the brunette's confidence that Maiden was both freelancer and Maverick terrorist was growing stronger by the second. This... bloodthirsty need for vengeance, she couldn't deny it, a primal part of her urged her to tie up loose ends, one by one; Viper, Lenore, Maiden... all must die. Thus, it came as a bit confusing when Dr. Fritzi - who had transformed into Vermilion Veronica - gave a direct order to the sniper to... hold her fire out of all things. Valkyrie blinked once, and considering her habit of not doing that at all whenever she's in esper form, the seemingly minor gesture spoke a thousand words. Every inch of her except her vocal cords were screaming in barely-restrained protest, the faux stoic look of an internally screaming woman. However, in the end, the incentives of her employment won out against her desire to murder Klava. And besides, just to make herself feel better about it, she entertained the thought that Lady Vermillion had something sneaky up her frilly sleeves. That wink again... what is it with these people and winks? Silmeria mused as impassive orange stared against dimly-glowing red. Thus, when Faceless Douchebag's arcane light went out, Valkyrie stood still even as Leroux warned her that an enemy was nearby, index finger engaging trigger discipline. She trusted her two melee-focused comrades to intercept the escaping terrorists - White Bitch included - and just watched the show as Orion's beam magnum shattered said Frost Fuck's sorry excuse of modern art (Still better than Justin's boar bestiality sculpture though). She exhaled a slow heavy sigh, regretting the fact that she could've shot Maiden's literal ass during that generous window of light provided by the Knight of Tomorrow's Melody. Hey, those motherfuckers were running in a straight line with their backs turned to a railgun sniper after all, but orders were orders. After the tangoes were out of sight, Valkyrie just waited with the rest of the team while Veronica, Leroux, and Wukong gave chase. A few moments later, the pursuers returned... but without Billy in their hands, although they did nab someone else, Jezebel by the looks of things, one of Maverick's officers. Well, she wasn't Billy, yes, but each neutralized or captured traitor of humanity was a win for all civilized folks. Flightless Angel, what an apt name, they certainly wouldn't be flying once their wings are clipped, hopefully she'd get the electric chair after GEMINI extracted all the information they could to hunt down the rest of her kind. That look, that delicious glaring look, yes, she loved an enemy who made it all the easier to dehumanize them. "I'm sure this won't be the last time we'll see Justin's coven and the Mavericks," The sniper esper raised a little shrug, "I can vouch for Protector at least, I believe she truly only wanted to save the innocent, same with that steampunk kid. However, I believe it's obvious by now that the ice bitch is a Maverick... subhuman scum just like Viper and Lenore." Her calm voice was practically bubbling with vengeful fury just underneath the surface before it relaxed back to neutral stoicism without much fanfare, "Affirmative, Doctor." Intent on following the order, Valkyrie disengaged esper form, her signature electromagnetic railgun and plain brown jacket vanishing into orange sparks. Then she simply departed from the mission area, preferably with the rest of the team, she could use some coffee and ice cream, yeah, coffee-flavored ice cream maybe? Yeah that'd be nice. Although it looked like Silhouette would need to be spoonfed... --- 21 \| Female \| G.E.M.I.N.I. \| The Faceless Teslic Gauss \| Long Gun \| Physical \| Nibelung Valesti Northern Sentinel \| Government Agent Electromagnetism \| Lightning \| Static Shock [Paralysis (4), Speedster (4)], Damage (2), Damage X (6), Push (2), Pull (2), Piercing (2), Bend (0) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: E \| SENTINEL: C \| Max Mana: 500 PHYSICAL: D \| ARCANE: E \| CHAOS: D \| Current Mana: 16</s> <\|message\|>Aria Sato, The Protector ARIA: THE PROTECTOR \| The Mavericks Moving to: Billy Black, Klava, Kristina, and Luna (if she's still around) --- "..." The Protector was at a loss. Damn it all-- in English even! Why did it have to come out from this side of the mansion? The exasperated suit of armor scratched the back of its helmet, a little bit frustrated that it made the decision to make this exit without having a halfway-decent plan about how to return to those kids. One thing was for sure-- the garage door entrance they found was accessed through the underground... so, the subway was out of the question, being a good ten or fifteen kilometers into the city. It rushed here by bus, and so it really needed to take a moment to jog its memory back while it sprinted all the way around the mansion. Once reaching a very rough above-ground estimate of where the garage heading into the wine cellar was, the Protector looked around. There were no obvious entrances into the inner workings of the underground labyrinth, but... there was a manhole. It rushed to it, questioning if its strength would be enough to open the thing before it realized it was still in its esper form. Quickly, it held its shield over the cover, its gravitational pull lifting the manhole lid with surprising ease. Obstruction cleared, it secured its shield to its back and made its way down the ladder, hoping for the best. It was dark, it was damp, and it was hella cramped. There was no way it would detransform, though. Not with all the muck and moisture. The esper couldn't have been more thankful for its suit of armor; clearly, its privileged upbringing didn't ever oversee its willing entrance into any city's underbelly. Yet, there it was. The things it'd do for children, after all. So it sucked it up and just tried its damn best to move fast without slipping.</s>	<\|message\|>Klava Pavlova 22 \| Female \| Freelancers \| Meltwater Spring Moya-no-Yume \| Dagger \| Physical \| Frosted Sheen Snowdrop Vestige \| Sangfroid Convention Glacial Stream \| Aqua \| Rime Rose [Freeze, Slick] Damage X, Restrain, Extend, Construction, Trap, Enhance, Mark, Blink, Powerful DAMAGE: D \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: E \| 750 PHYSICAL: E\| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 14 There was probably a pessimistic part of Klava's mind that figured that they'd all be dead regardless. Blasted to bits when the Fritz decides that she could just get a construction crew to clean up the debris after all, and call in an airstrike from the good ol' US Air Force instead. Even if Billy could survive it, he wouldn't have his angels left over to watch his ass from the Fritz's magical bullshit. And then it'd be all extra over. Even a couple of snipers positioned to start blasting through the windows would do it. One didn't need an instrument to fuck an Esper up if their gun was of sufficient caliber. Klava had positioned herself close to Billy for that express purpose, imagining all the batshit things that self-righteousness government spooks could do to secure some semblance of victory after their squad had a hilarious fuck up. But the worst cases never manifested, and it was only when they dropped down into the wine cellar, moments away from being able to escape the Bastion, that Klava realized that one of them was missing. The only one who she didn't know, really. So personally, no big loss. Billy took the kids. Tetrad took off. Klava remained there with Kristina for a moment longer, then let out a long, deflating groan. Fuck that wasn't smart of her. Too caught up in the moment once again, too focused on being herself rather than being fucking alive. Oh, long term consequences, what were those? God, imagine if she had just shanked that butler a week or two back, then GEMINI could just be like "lol mission accomplished, we'll let y'all go this time" instead. Fucking bullshit, for real. Such incredible cringe. Just totally built different, wasn't she? And a dick? Seriously? Had the whole medieval weaponry and architecture theme going, and she just went and bungled it for an adolescent joke? What was she, 15? Yeah, she was definitely going to sleep on it. No regrets, of course, because GEMINI are still a buncha rat bastards, but there were a dozen ways she could've approached this. "Trixy, huh," Klava said. It looked like it fit more. Maybe. She rubbed the palm of her left hand against her eyes, then made her way down to Bastion as well. "So, what was that thing about eating babies that those GEMs were saying?"</s>
<\|description\|>Willow Simone Dendry W I L L O W --- BASIC INFO --- Age: 18 Year: Senior Gender: Female APPEARANCE: --- Height: 5'7 Weight: 71 lbs Skin Color: White. Literal white. Physical Description: A pale ghost of a girl. Average height, thin build. No meat or muscles at all. Skin and hair, all colorless. Big eyes, white like her skin, save the pupils and pitch black sclera. Button nose, thin lips, wavy hair going down to her neck. Clothing: Dark tops. Dark pants. Lots of grays and navy blues. Never anything too bright. Likes big coats with fur on them. The kind old ladies would wear. Voice: Soft. Quiet. Weak, almost. When she's a ghost, it has an echo to it. PERSONALITY: --- Character Traits: Silent and observant. Strange in the eyes of strangers. Always has a smile on her face. Perfectly content with being alone, but doesn't scorn companionship. Seldom the one who speaks to someone else first. Talks sparingly, but with kind words - if at times, odd words. Blunt statements. Flowery language comes out when she likes someone. Bad parts. Curious. Too curious, sometimes. Explores places she's not supposed to explore. Thinks she can't be touched. Ghosts everything. Doesn't take dangerous things seriously. Lacks long-term goals. No aspirations - just living in the moment. Bonds: Seeing the world and the people in it. Spending a little bit of time with friends. Helping her father around the workplace. Small things. Activities: Writing. Drawing. She has a little journal full of short stories, poems, and sketches. Loves to craft with the antiques at home, sometimes reads some of the old books too. Goes shopping for new coats every now and then. Explores abandoned, condemned, or otherwise unoccupied unoccupied buildings. Skills: Artsy things. The written word. Pencil sketches. Good at cleaning and sorting the antiques at home. Picked up a knack for staying out of sight when she wants to. BACKSTORY --- Backstory: A man and a woman - Lloyd and Esther Dendry - had a child eighteen years ago, after the great light shone over Leesburgh. Abnormalities in the pregnancy, right away. Couldn't see her in the ultrasound. Pressure fluctuations in the mother's womb. Couldn't have guessed the baby girl would float freely out of it, see-through. Her skin all white, her cries all echoing. Suddenly she solidifies, drops to the floor - a doctor catches her. Father always loved the strange and supernatural. Excited for what was happening. Mother feared it. Fear quickly turned to hate with the new wave of eventful births around town. Babies born floating. Crackling with electricity. Scales and tails. Willow's mother couldn't show any love to her. Got mad at her. Threatened to hurt her, and other children too. Lashed out at her husband. Said she wanted it to stop. Said she was afraid of them all. Swung a knife around one night, got taken away after that. Spent a few years locked up. Found dead in her room one morning. Aneurysm. Willow was only three during the funeral. Life went on. Willow got older. Learned to shift back and forth freely. Helped her father around the Rustic Palace. Developed a love of antiques and creativity. Moved into the shop when the house got sold. Went to school. Feared the bullies, kids and grown-ups, throwing stones at her. Learned to ghost the stones and stopped being afraid. Let all the dangers of the world pass right through her. Let nasty words go ignored. Stopped thinking about her mother. Started to smile again. POWERS: --- Description: Incorporeality. The power to become intangible, weightless, translucent. Can fly freely through the air. Pass through solid matter. Takes her clothes and small possessions with her into the ether. Gives people shivers when she passes through them, like a cold specter. When physical, she's floaty. Jumps higher than others. Falls slower. Gravity is kinder to her. Limitations: Ghosting takes energy. Can't stay intangible forever. One hour, no breaks, before passing out. Can't be asleep and intangible at the same time. Can't shift back to tangible if she's still caught in something, even by a toe. Weaknesses: Heat. Fire. High temperatures. Disrupts the shifting process. Forces her back to corporeality. Other Information: Nothing for now. SCHOOLING --- Favorite Subject: Fine Art 3. Least-Favorite Subject: Science. Grades: As in art and literature. Bs and (mostly) Cs make up the rest. Not the best student. Embarrassing Moment: Sophomore year. Shifting through the school. Accidentally found herself in the boys' locker room during senior gym class. Lots of looks. Took her a moment to flee. Only time anyone's ever seen her blush.</s> <\|message\|>Elodie "Elle" Miller Elle Miller --- It was only a few minutes until the bell, but the students of Mr. Franklin's last U.S. History class of the day were already packing their bags. Elle was among them, but she still listened as he half-heartedly announced that they'd have the weekend to do the worksheet he provided not ten minutes prior. Most of the class hadn't even given the worksheet a second thought, but Elle was now sticking the already completed assignment into a folder for safe keeping. This class was nothing short of boring to her. Mr. Franklin was the type to cover the entire syllabus, but with as little enthusiasm as possible. The most energy she'd seen come from the man was when he went into tangents about what "really" happened in history instead of the sugar-coated, American loving version of events. At this point Elle showed to the class for the grade and not for the teacher himself. As the announcement began Elle chose to sit back in her seat and stare out of the window. The three day weekend wasn't that thrilling after only one week of school, but she was looking forward to the quiet at the house. Pete, her step-dad, and her mother were going on a weekend trip out of town for the holiday. This meant that Elle could come and go from the house as much as she pleased without any judgement or harassment. She was excited to have the house to herself, even if she wasn't going to spend much time there. She just had to hope that Pete left some money for food on the table and forgot to lock up her mom's stash of liquor. That's all she needed from them, really. She wasn't even going to bother with seeing them before they left today. In fact, she was pretty sure that Pete mentioned he was leaving work early today to get started on their drive. They were most likely out of town by now. Elle felt like a weight had lifted from her shoulders at that thought. A weekend without Pete, and a weekend without her mother's inebriated behavior. This thought was already out of her mind as she stepped into the hallway. Elle slipped through the bustling hall without much notice. The perks of being a small fry, she assumed. As she approached her locker she heard some girls talking about Rad-Chad's birthday party on Sunday night. Elle reached for her skateboard as she listened. It didn't sound like the company at the party would be worth anything, but all Elle really heard about it was that there would be free food and drinks. Which meant that it would be a perfect way to spend her Sunday night. She knew little about Chad himself, but she did know that there was always something going on at his parties that made them worthwhile. With that decision made, Elle tucked her board under her arm and made her way out of the front doors. As she stepped outside Elle took a moment to observe the chaos in the parking lot. She took a deep breath of the crisp autumn air and had a moment of peace within the gentle breeze of the day. Her shoulders went slack and she closed her eyes briefly. She could feel the warmth of the sun against her cheeks. Something about the day just seemed… oddly too perfect. Elle opened her eyes again and turned towards the source of the breeze. She then glimpsed none other than Evelyn Noblezada walking past. Of course. Elle thought with a small smirk. While Evelyn's aura made her feel like a new person, giddy and excited to be alive, Elle knew better than to act on those impulses with Evelyn around. She wasn't as susceptible to Evelyn's charm as the rest of the student body, despite the girl's alluring power. Evelyn was a charming snake and Elle knew to take her seriously. Before she could be consumed by Evelyn's energy, Elle turned and left the zone of surrealness to head towards home. She knew she was out of Evelyn's range as soon as sobriety hit her like a breath of fresh September air. Elle took advantage of the lingering energy from Evelyn's passing and decided to take the long way home on her skateboard. Not before sticking her headphones in her ears and hitting shuffle on her shitty little black iPod nano. The music began to play, and Elle took to her board down the streets of Leesburgh.</s> <\|message\|>Helen Hart --- H E L E N --- Helen jumped as Willow's ghostly-pale face appeared through the car door. All these years of friendship and that still freaked her out sometimes. Helen laughed it off and put on her seat belt as Willow got situated. It took a minute to get Doug going, but after several key turns and the sound of a smoker coughing into a megaphone, the car sprung to life. WLEE, the local radio station, was playing Superbass Nicki Minaj. Helen turned the song up and wound down the windows. Slowly, she waited her turn in the line of cars that mobbed their way out of the parking lot: a Honda, two Toyotas, Chad Charles' obnoxiously yellow BMW. Eventually, Doug groaned its way out of the parking space and into line. "How are you doing love?" Helen asked Willow as they sat in the traffic. B.O.B's musical stylings still floated through the air from the back of a Jeep Wrangler that no less than seven members of the soccer team had packed into. As Helen drove out of the parking lot, she felt a warm breeze flow in through the window, despite the autumn chill. She saw the source up ahead: standing by the side of the road was Evelyn Noblezada. 'That bitch, Helen thought, afraid that if she said it out loud Evelyn would hear. Nobody needed a primer on reasons to dislike Evelyn- she had made Helen cry a minimum of three times just in the sixth grade, and this was actually a little below average for tween girls at Moore Middle School. Poor Kelly ended up spending lunch in the bathroom every day out of fear of running into Evelyn at the lunch table. The worst part about Evelyn Noblezada, though, was that Helen couldn't stop looking at her. She was just so...hot: stupid perfect makeup, stupid smooth caramel skin, stupid pretty eyes, stupid toned soccer legs that Helen would love nothing more than to... There was a shout. Helen instinctually slammed on the brakes. Her eyes shot up to see that she had come within inches of hitting Letitia Green. Doug's bumper was hanging over the edge of the sidewalk and a conga line of traffic was piling up behind it. Helen's eyes opened wide as dinner plates. "Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod I'm so sorry Tish!" she yelled through the open window. "Dude, fucking look where you're going!" the surprisingly tall and muscular Letitia said. Her face was more shock and fear than anger. Her green skin was covered in a sheen of cold sweat and her chest heaved with adrenaline. As Letitia grabbed her backpack (which she'd dropped in the panic), she kicked out at Doug, striking the bumper and leaving a Size 13 dent. Then she stomped past and off into the parking lot. Helen blinked hard. She slowly reversed the car and then drove off down the bus loop and onto Gaiman Street, her skin even paler than normal and her eyes wide open and glued to the road. "Uh...sorry about that," she said to Willow.</s>	<\|message\|>Willow Simone Dendry 𝕎 𝕚 𝕝 𝕝 𝕠 𝕨 "It's okay," Willow replies calmly to Helen. She went unfazed towards the near-collision - like she does towards everything. She passes a glance at Evelyn Noblezada a ways from the car. The two of them had never formally met. Willow has a drawing of her in her journal, done sometime last year. It's her, surrounded by little birds and flowers, the tagline 'The world seems brighter with her around' at the bottom. Evelyn has never seen this drawing, and chances are, she never will. Willow's not her people. She sits in silence as Helen carries on the journey. The thought crosses her mind to check her messages while she's along for the ride, on her small, years-old keypad phone, the make and model of which completely escapes her. It's just a phone to her - not really her phone, just one that's always readily available. It's a way of thinking no one shares with her. Two new messages. The first is from her father, Lloyd. > It finally happened. She smiles at the words. And then she looks at the second message, from Dexter Quinto. > Charles' party on Sunday? Before Dexter's sister Tara had died, Willow had drawn a picture of her on a whim. Sometime after she had gone, Willow walked up to a lone Dexter and wordlessly handed him the picture, with a smile on her face. Since then, the two have kept up contact - they weren't very close, but Dexter never completely forgot about her. And she liked that. She smiles, and thumbs five buttons into a response. > Okay!</s>
<\|description\|>Willow Simone Dendry W I L L O W --- BASIC INFO --- Age: 18 Year: Senior Gender: Female APPEARANCE: --- Height: 5'7 Weight: 71 lbs Skin Color: White. Literal white. Physical Description: A pale ghost of a girl. Average height, thin build. No meat or muscles at all. Skin and hair, all colorless. Big eyes, white like her skin, save the pupils and pitch black sclera. Button nose, thin lips, wavy hair going down to her neck. Clothing: Dark tops. Dark pants. Lots of grays and navy blues. Never anything too bright. Likes big coats with fur on them. The kind old ladies would wear. Voice: Soft. Quiet. Weak, almost. When she's a ghost, it has an echo to it. PERSONALITY: --- Character Traits: Silent and observant. Strange in the eyes of strangers. Always has a smile on her face. Perfectly content with being alone, but doesn't scorn companionship. Seldom the one who speaks to someone else first. Talks sparingly, but with kind words - if at times, odd words. Blunt statements. Flowery language comes out when she likes someone. Bad parts. Curious. Too curious, sometimes. Explores places she's not supposed to explore. Thinks she can't be touched. Ghosts everything. Doesn't take dangerous things seriously. Lacks long-term goals. No aspirations - just living in the moment. Bonds: Seeing the world and the people in it. Spending a little bit of time with friends. Helping her father around the workplace. Small things. Activities: Writing. Drawing. She has a little journal full of short stories, poems, and sketches. Loves to craft with the antiques at home, sometimes reads some of the old books too. Goes shopping for new coats every now and then. Explores abandoned, condemned, or otherwise unoccupied unoccupied buildings. Skills: Artsy things. The written word. Pencil sketches. Good at cleaning and sorting the antiques at home. Picked up a knack for staying out of sight when she wants to. BACKSTORY --- Backstory: A man and a woman - Lloyd and Esther Dendry - had a child eighteen years ago, after the great light shone over Leesburgh. Abnormalities in the pregnancy, right away. Couldn't see her in the ultrasound. Pressure fluctuations in the mother's womb. Couldn't have guessed the baby girl would float freely out of it, see-through. Her skin all white, her cries all echoing. Suddenly she solidifies, drops to the floor - a doctor catches her. Father always loved the strange and supernatural. Excited for what was happening. Mother feared it. Fear quickly turned to hate with the new wave of eventful births around town. Babies born floating. Crackling with electricity. Scales and tails. Willow's mother couldn't show any love to her. Got mad at her. Threatened to hurt her, and other children too. Lashed out at her husband. Said she wanted it to stop. Said she was afraid of them all. Swung a knife around one night, got taken away after that. Spent a few years locked up. Found dead in her room one morning. Aneurysm. Willow was only three during the funeral. Life went on. Willow got older. Learned to shift back and forth freely. Helped her father around the Rustic Palace. Developed a love of antiques and creativity. Moved into the shop when the house got sold. Went to school. Feared the bullies, kids and grown-ups, throwing stones at her. Learned to ghost the stones and stopped being afraid. Let all the dangers of the world pass right through her. Let nasty words go ignored. Stopped thinking about her mother. Started to smile again. POWERS: --- Description: Incorporeality. The power to become intangible, weightless, translucent. Can fly freely through the air. Pass through solid matter. Takes her clothes and small possessions with her into the ether. Gives people shivers when she passes through them, like a cold specter. When physical, she's floaty. Jumps higher than others. Falls slower. Gravity is kinder to her. Limitations: Ghosting takes energy. Can't stay intangible forever. One hour, no breaks, before passing out. Can't be asleep and intangible at the same time. Can't shift back to tangible if she's still caught in something, even by a toe. Weaknesses: Heat. Fire. High temperatures. Disrupts the shifting process. Forces her back to corporeality. Other Information: Nothing for now. SCHOOLING --- Favorite Subject: Fine Art 3. Least-Favorite Subject: Science. Grades: As in art and literature. Bs and (mostly) Cs make up the rest. Not the best student. Embarrassing Moment: Sophomore year. Shifting through the school. Accidentally found herself in the boys' locker room during senior gym class. Lots of looks. Took her a moment to flee. Only time anyone's ever seen her blush.</s> <\|message\|>Willow Simone Dendry 𝕎 𝕚 𝕝 𝕝 𝕠 𝕨 "I saw it flee the scene," Willow replied to Elle's inquiry, "It melded with one of the sewer pipes and traveled down the tunnel. I have no idea where it could have gone, but…" She paused for a moment to gather her words, adjusting herself as Helen began to doze off a bit with her head resting on Willow's shoulder. "I could explore the sewers well enough on my own," she began plainly, "no need to open any manholes. I don't know who would want to come with me, it's very filthy down there. But we'd have to find a proper entrance if so." She really doesn't have a plan. But jumping blindly into the sewers seemed like an alright place to start. Hopefully someone else chimes in with a better idea - where to start looking, what to bring with them - because Willows was getting too caught up in imagining what they could possibly find down there, and how dangerous it could be. And what to tell her father, of course. "Does anyone know the tunnel network very well?"</s> <\|message\|>Helen Hart Monday, September 6th, 2010 Labor Day (apparently this scene is an Apple commercial) Helen spent her day off mostly lying in bed, her head aching from the last night's drinking and smoking. She nearly threw up shortly after waking up, though was able to pull herself together afterwards. She drank two liters of water and ate a plate of fried plantains with vegan bacon. Then she laid back down in bed, stretching out over the pink and green striped covers. The walls of Helen's room were a pale sage, and art decorated as much space as it could: band posters, flower presses, a year-old wall calendar. To the left of her pink and white desk, dozens of Willow's drawings (as well as a few of her own) plastered the wall. On the back of the door was a black poster with a large white pentagram in the middle. Around it were the words: "God and Goddess Wise and True Guide Me Now In All I Do." After several more hours sleeping off the hangover, Helen finally got dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a dark yellow tank top. She put on her hiking shoes and packed her backpack, which was green and polka-dotted with small yellow and pink flowers. She began to pack her bag. Into it she stuffed a phone charger, a bottle of water, a Nature Valley Bar, a pair of gardening gloves, and a small pocket knife. She stuffed a travel-size can of pepper spray into her pocket, as well as her phone and her keys. She laced up her brown hiking boots and wandered out of her bedroom towards the living room. Helen's mom, Cassie, was sitting on the sofa, drinking a glass of wine with her feet up on a cushion. A rerun of Friends was on TV. "Hey honey," Cassie said. "Have you finally decided to become nocturnal?" Helen sighed--it was only 5 o'clock and the sun was high in the sky, but her mom had a point. "Nah," she said. "I just had a really bad headache this morning." "I figured," Cassie said. "You must have been trashed last night." "Mom!" Helen said, her face flushing red. "Oh come on honey," Cassie replied. "When Willow brought you home last night she practically had to carry you through the front door and you reeked of weed." Helen looked down at her shoes, embarrassed. Her mom had this way of trying to be relatable that only served to make Helen feel more embarrassed when she did something she wasn't supposed to. Maybe that was the point. "You just need to be careful sweetie," Cassie said. "I don't want you to get arrested or something!" "Mom I'm not gonna get arrested," Helen said. "Nobody cares about weed anymore--it's not the 1970s. Okaaaay," Cassie said singsongedly. "So now that you've risen from your slumber, where are you heading? Back to Willow's?" "Yeah, probably," Helen said, disguising her lie by looking down at her phone. Cassie smiled, her cheeks slightly pink from the wine getting to her. "Awww," she said. "You two are so cute together! I'm so happy for you!" "Mooooom," Helen said. "You know it's not like that. Willow is just-" "I know, I know," Cassie replied. "I'm just teasing you! It's my job as your mom!" Helen rolled her eyes and moved for the door. "I'll be back later," Helen said. "Love you mom." "Love you too honey!" Cassie called out. "Don't make bad decisions!" Helen groaned. She felt like she had already made a bad decision by walking out the front door. --- 6:00 PM The waste tunnel sat at the end of a gravel access road off of Mount Gray Boulevard, about half a mile out of town. A wild and unkempt field stretched around the ditch, brambles and grasses and wildflowers all tangling with each other. The side of the road was littered with broken glass, chunks of asphalt, and the occasional heroin needle. Down the road, an abandoned construction site sat in an alcove, a mess of rusty rebar and jersey walls. Doug, Helen's car, crunched through all of the debris on the roadside as it pulled onto the access road and down to the waste tunnel. The tunnel was built into a small ridge. It consisted of a heavy iron grate about the diameter of a person. A heavy iron padlock held the grate shut. To the left of the ridge and the grate, a rusting silo moldered, standing like some kind of scrap metal obelisk. A wall of scraggly trees disguised the tunnel from the main road, and if you didn't know where to look you'd have never known it was there. The day was cloudy, and a slight drizzle tapped on the windshield. Helen pulled onto the side of the access road, Doug's tires squelching as it sunk into the mud. She sighed, looking out at the scene before her. It looked like she and Willow were the first ones there. She checked her watch: 6:00 on the dot. Where was everyone? Did they chicken out? It would make sense for them to have--this was a terrible idea. Helen turned Doug off and reclined her seat to look up at the cloth ceiling. Her stomach was a mess of knots and her arms were numb with fear. Helen was the kind of kid who did rebellious things just to get under the skin of grown-ups who acted like they had sticks up their ass. She was certain she would not do well in juvenile detention if they got caught. "I'm not sure how good of an idea this is Will," Helen said. "We really aren't supposed to be here…"</s>	<\|message\|>Willow Simone Dendry 𝕎 𝕚 𝕝 𝕝 𝕠 𝕨 "Yes we are," Willow responds plainly. She smiles a bit as she stares at the large, open waste tunnel entrance in the distance. "It just doesn't feel like it yet." She had assembled herself in preparation for the sewage-sifting. A heavy, grey, hooded nylon coat, clearly a little too big for her, going down to her knees. An old pair of ski goggles and a black cloth hung around her neck. A pair of black gloves, duct-taped around her coat's cuffs - she doesn't want to risk any filth getting on her, whenever she may have to stay corporeal. A pair of black snow pants and rubber boots, similarly duct taped (with a bit of difficulty, given their heftiness). An unawares bystander might think she's going on an extended expedition in the Yukon. Or part of a team of amateur jewel thieves. Or that it's just part of the 'standard Willow weirdness'. Doesn't matter. Did she over-prepare a little as someone who can phase through walls and sewer muck? Maybe. But she feels glad that she did - the preparation makes the occasion feel all the more important. And exciting.</s>
<\|description\|>Jiugui The Wine Demon \| The Unquenchable Thirst \| The Rose-Cheeked God Aspect - Wine Wine - that most flavourful and ruinous substance. All throughout history, this drink of water and yeasted sugars has been a source of great joy and celebration, and terrible downfalls and loss of face. The effects of wine on the body are well-known: The senses begin to dull; the skin begins to warm; one's vision may start to blur; and one's courage may grow to irregular proportions. For every sip of the potion, one's neighbour seems just a little more interesting, a little more attractive. Friendships feel stronger; the tongue grows looser; passions bubble forth to the surface. Suddenly, you can sing; you can write; you can dance. You are the centre of the celebration, and everyone's eyes are on you! Then the dream shatters. It is morning. The light of midday assaults your crusted eyes like rays of sharpened steel. You blink (or try to, anyway) and assign every single ounce of energy in your body to your sore abdominal muscles - you have to get up. You look around - this isn't your room. This isn't your house. You look down and your face drains of blood. That's your best friend's husband, but you are not at your best friend's house, either. You stumble to get dressed, but finding your clothes is a treasure hunt in and of itself. While you search, your friend's husband awakens. You ask what happened, but he is in shock. The door opens to reveal your friend, your husband, the village chieftain and many others. The chastise begins, paining your mind even worse than the headache: You called the chieftain a fat swine; you vomited in your husband's lap; you punched the neighbour's son and poked his eye out; you escaped into the woods and forced the whole village to call off the feast to search for you; only to find you here, sleeping with a man who had not participated as part of his vow of temperance. You try to blame it on the wine - a worthless argument. You are tossed in a cell for the day - that'll show you. Jiugui can turn any grain, fruit, vegetable, plant substance or animal product with enough sugar content into wine. He can even turn water into wine and can unnatural amounts of wine from small amounts of raw materials. The power of wine is the power to intoxicate through the medium of yeasted drink. Intoxication implies the above-mentioned symptoms - a little will give the target an exciting buzz; a bit more will cloud their mind and louden their voice; even more than that may stagger them and make laughter come as easily as breathing; and consumption beyond that may bring blackouts and, in the worst of cases, death. Jiugui cannot force intoxication upon anyone who has not consumed his wine, however - while the god can decide the strength of his concoctions up to lethal levels, he cannot actually make anyone intoxicated so long as they refuse to drink the concoction. The power of wine also lets Jiugui grant others reduced or increased resistances to alcohol, even immunity. However, this blessing, too, must be granted through drinking. In this vein, Jiugui can communicate through wine and through wine containers, whispering into their drinkers' faces. Persona Jiugui is a similar to most drunks one might meet around midnight: Hearty of spirit and stuffed to the brim with song and kind words. He is a wonderful drinking buddy, and will gladly offer up a cup of wine and invite anyone to have a seat to drink and talk about life. His purse strings are as loose as his passions and he will spend his power lavishly to make certain his friends and guests are enjoying themselves to the fullest. Issues begin appearing whenever Jiugui is given any responsibilities. He is at the very least tipsy at any point in time, frequently drunk beyond reason, and will regularly shirk his duties for another drink in the pavilion with his friends and a sheet of paper to write poetry on. He keeps secrets for maybe fifteen seconds - if you're lucky, he'll forget them first - and has a tendency to get himself into trouble left and right when he falls into one of his stupors. At the very least, he makes for a comical show. True Form While Jiugui's normal form is that of a small, fat, drunken man with blood-red skin and black hair, his true form takes on the literal meaning of his name, "wine demon". When assuming this form, Jiugui grows five times taller, ripping his robes in the process and leaving only rags as a loincloth. His hair falls off, horns sprouting forth from his head instead. Everywhere on his body, his skin sags with fat and laziness. The air around him oozes (even more) with the stink of alcohol, and every breath taken is bitter with spirit vapours. However, apart from his ugly appearance and intoxicating smell, his true form does very little in addition to what his base form already does. Perhaps he becomes more dangerous on account of being five times taller, but just as out of balance as usual? Maybe he has additional powers, but forgets them in his stupor? Who knows? He sure doesn't. Normal form, the man Jiugui. True form, the demon Jiugui. Musical theme</s> <\|message\|>VoiShepherd of Souls Voi Aspect of Souls --- Nothing, he was, just another one of the Monarch's shards. "Then the voice came, My subjects, I am your creator...." Bright blue light started to form within the shard. A single questioning thought emerged, creator? "This will not be our prison, not a stockade...." "Our prison?" The bright blue started to pulsate and shifted wildly inside the shard with each passing moment. The shard barely able to hold it in. Then came the final words, 'Rise! Heed this call of mine! Become the gods of Galbar!' The shard started to crack before the bright blue light thashing violently until it shattered the shard. The blue light standing in place for a few seconds before coalescing into a figure. Voi, his first thought as a god. He knows that is his name and took a moment to gaze at his body. Flexing his fingers for the first time, and took note of his form. Something corporeal to the naked eye but, underneath, incorporeal. Suiting his purpose a god of souls. He thought as he turned his gaze to his creator the Monarch. Giving a bow of respect to the Monarch and in a soft tone, "Thank you, father." Before turning his gaze towards his siblings, hearing the call from Voligan, seeing that he and others were in the middle of changing Galbar. Galbar, this is to be their world that they would make together. A sense of duty developed in him. This was their task, to be gods of this world and shape it. A task the Voi was more than willing to help with, but before, he would travel to Galbar and aid his siblings' efforts. He heard Epsilon's call about writing in a book about their favorite elements of existence. Turning around to see the god of knowledge writing in a book that was on a pedestal in the main hall. Curious about his and what his brother has written down already. Due to their very short time being alive and so Voi walked over to the pedestal. Once he was closed enough, Voi read what Epsilon had written. Reading Epsilon's love of memory, thought, stories, discovery, and the universe. Voi wrote what he felt was important to him. The nature of a soul, the sanctity of life, and making a soul safe once they had moved on to the next life. Though he has yet to experience it yet but is eager to begin. So when he was done writing in the Codex, Voi ventured off to see what existence has to offer to him and his siblings. Voi is created and shatters his shard in the process. Wrote in the Codex Ventures off Starting Vigor - 10 Spent - 1 - Writing on the nature of souls and life onto the Codex End Vigor - 9</s> <\|message\|>Aethel Aethel Location: The Celestial Palace. Interacting with: Monarch of All (@Lauder) and Ruina @Squad 404) Turning their head slightly to gaze upon the new arrival, Aethel seemed to light up at the sight of one of their siblings. Springing up from their sitting position in order to ponk around Ruina while checking her out like an over excited baby lamb discovering something new. Finally remembering words were a thing after the first bouncing circle, Aethel finally came to a stop in front of her as their front hooves moved up to cover their mouth as a squeal escaped them before the gushing began. "Oh. My. Me! You look amazing! The perfect blend of soft and delicate beauty combined with animistic savagery!... as well as some tasteful sex appeal in just how tight your outfit appears to be! It even matches your hair and eyes! You're going to be so popular! Everything we create is going to want to get to know you!" Remembering where they were and whom was present, Aethel glanced back at the Monarch with a degree of bashfulness before forcing themselves to calm down with a polite clearing of their throat and a deep, deep breath. "I mean... My name is Aethel. It is an absolute pleasure to meet you... sister?" Glancing back at the Monarch of All as if to confirm if they were using the right kind of relationship to describe a fellow deity, regardless of the outcome they would turn back and offer a polite bow of the head. "I am Aethel. And this-" There was a grand sweeping gesture of two of their legs and a countless number of tentacles towards the world that they were observing "-is going to be our stage of Galbar! Granted its not much to look at right now since all that is currently there is water, but some of our kin have big additions already planned and I'm looking forward to seeing them." "In fact, I have some ideas of my own but.." Pausing for a moment, Aethel turned back to the Monarch fully before politely requesting "Father, in order to speed up my additions to Galbar during this early development, might I make use of some of the Mana of the Palace? It is not vitally important since I can make due without it, but it would considerably speed up the development of Galbar's own sources of Mana by introducing a supply of it from the start." Aethel meets Ruina for the first time and politely asks dad if he can use some of the Palace's Mana to get things on Galbar going a lot faster then planned. Cycle 0 Vigor total: 10. Vigor spent: 0. Remaining Vigor: 10.</s>	<\|message\|>Jiugui The Wine Demon \| The Unquenchable Thirst \| The Rose-Cheeked God Thunderous cacophonies of creation blasted into reality all around, and the scene of existence had in the span of minutes gone from nothing into everything - water, earth, heat, cold, magic - forces of the physical world accompanied by the forces of the cosmos: knowledge, luck, fortitude, destruction and souls. At the centre of it all - Him; the Celestial Master, the Lord Who Towers of All. The Cosmic King had spawned with such magnificent power this roster of retainers, this society of stewards - drizzling the world in rain and penning the words of Creation itself. Life - life was finding its way. It was then that a puddle, not too far from the ruins of the garden fountain, was exposed to the sweet dust of a godly shard; that sugar in the air that blasted off from creation and seasoned the soil with holy spirit. That was enough. The water accepted this candy of Creation and the two fused into a thin syrup that immediately sported a small, brown mustache of foam - an eyeball of yeast blinked up at the rain. It had little time before it would be flushed away. It decided to do something about it. So the yeast spun itself a whirlpool in the puddle and flushed itself down into the soil. There, it quickly found exactly no one, and it couldn't accept that - where was the joy in being alone? So the yeast, immediately changing its mind, tunneled back up into the air and became a cloud. The cloud thickened, but the rain from above kept cutting through it and preventing it from coalescing properly. The cloud, rather annoyed at this point, floated for cover, finding it in the ruins of an ancient pavilion. There, the cloud could finally gather into a clump of foam, and the clump spat out a creature - a man, red of skin, small of growth and round with fat. The creature, clothed in a white silk robe and hatted with a black futou, crashed into the pavilion floor, but spared no muscular expense and turned the clumsy landing into a dexterous roll, ending in a lying seat, a cup spawning in his right hand as if by instinct. With his cup in his grip and a sip to his lip, he, Jiugui, spoke the first drunk poetry the world had ever heard: Thousand years of brewing art Hidden in the Lian Spring, art! Wine from poets' gardens flows, Tastes which will undo all woes. He then looked around. "Wait, where ish everyone?" A cloud of alcohol made from divine shard sugar and rainwater spawns Jiugui, who then recites poetry to exactly no one. Vigor: 10/10, best monarch.</s>
<\|description\|>Zelios The Shadow-That-Shields Aspect Darkness. Traditionally characterized as the absence of light. But there is more to it than that. To some, darkness represents fear; fear of the unseen, and unknown. To others, it represents peace, safety, protection. The God of Darkness has the power to dim or outright banish light, to make it easier for his servants to move unseen, to command the creatures of the night, and to manipulate the very shadows themselves into physical objects that might harm or hinder mortals, be it by sapping their strength, holding them in place, or resorting to a more direct attack. Persona Zelios is a surprisingly friendly and affable man, all things considered. While some might assume a god of darkness to be cold, menacing, or secretive, he is anything but. He has his secrets, to be sure, and he is more than capable of appearing threatening when the situation calls for it, but amongst his fellow gods he generally attempts to maintain an air of friendliness. Zelios holds a particular disdain for tyrants. What he defines as a tyrant is someone in a position of power who abuses that power to impose their will on others who are no threat to them and have not done anything worthy of such a punishment. At the end of the day he usually tends to sympathize with those whose only wish is to be left alone. When it comes to punishing these so-called tyrants for those actions, Zelios has no preferred method. It usually depends on the circumstance. If the problem is with certain individuals rather than an entire class or system, then he will usually try to air out their crimes and discredit them, or resort to assassination. Even then the manner of the assassination may vary depending on whether or not he wants the death to send a message. However if the issue is systemic, then he will instead resort to more intricate means; usually by identifying people willing to reform the system (or by inspiring them to do so if no such people exist), and doing everything he can to bolster their position so that they might overthrow the system. However, if a society is utterly corrupt, irredeemable, and rotten to the core, with everyone being complicit in it, he may decide that it would be better for the society to be destroyed completely rather than reformed. When it comes to leading mortals he does not prefer to make grand speeches in public. His preference is to instead meet with leaders in private, or whisper into their ears, or plants thoughts inside their heads. He also likes to act through agents, such as secret cabals of spies and assassins. Not all of his agents act in secret, however; he is more than willing to deploy small elite bands of warriors who can take a more... direct hand in events if necessary. He likes to see himself as a patron of the downtrodden, but those who misinterpret his nature may instead view him as a patron of schemers, thieves, assassins, and sycophants. But in truth he is willing to accept pretty much any worshiper, so long as they respect him and his values. Some might argue that Zelios is a tyrant himself. Depending on his mood, he will treat such accusations as if they were either a joke or a grave insult. He is not incapable of self-reflection, and can recognize when he makes mistakes, but to him those mistakes are just that - mistakes. Isolated mistakes which are not a symptom of any deeper character flaw. True Form Zelios's true form is a mass of darkness in its purest, densest form. Such a form can take any size, any shape, any state - be it gas, liquid, or solid. It radiates an aura that creatures of the day would find malevolent, and creatures of the night would find comforting or inspiring. Depending on the size it takes, all lights within a certain radius will find themselves dimmed. The speed and strength of this form directly correlates with the day and night cycle; in the day it is slow and sluggish, while at night is freakishly swift and monstrous even by divine standards. Creatures of the day who stare deeply into the mass will find their very own perception altered, to be more attuned with the night. They can effectively gain constant night vision, capable of seeing in dark without any aid, but their vision in turn becomes far more sensitive to sources of light; blindingly, and even painfully so. They may find themselves never able to look upon the sun again. It is a rare day when Zelios invokes this form, however. Most days he prefers to walk in the form of a simple mortal, in black robes or armour, with a raven feather cloak or a pair of black angelic wings.</s> <\|message\|>Aethel Aethel Location: The Celestial Palace. Interacting with: Monarch of All (@Lauder) and Ruina @Squad 404) Turning their head slightly to gaze upon the new arrival, Aethel seemed to light up at the sight of one of their siblings. Springing up from their sitting position in order to ponk around Ruina while checking her out like an over excited baby lamb discovering something new. Finally remembering words were a thing after the first bouncing circle, Aethel finally came to a stop in front of her as their front hooves moved up to cover their mouth as a squeal escaped them before the gushing began. "Oh. My. Me! You look amazing! The perfect blend of soft and delicate beauty combined with animistic savagery!... as well as some tasteful sex appeal in just how tight your outfit appears to be! It even matches your hair and eyes! You're going to be so popular! Everything we create is going to want to get to know you!" Remembering where they were and whom was present, Aethel glanced back at the Monarch with a degree of bashfulness before forcing themselves to calm down with a polite clearing of their throat and a deep, deep breath. "I mean... My name is Aethel. It is an absolute pleasure to meet you... sister?" Glancing back at the Monarch of All as if to confirm if they were using the right kind of relationship to describe a fellow deity, regardless of the outcome they would turn back and offer a polite bow of the head. "I am Aethel. And this-" There was a grand sweeping gesture of two of their legs and a countless number of tentacles towards the world that they were observing "-is going to be our stage of Galbar! Granted its not much to look at right now since all that is currently there is water, but some of our kin have big additions already planned and I'm looking forward to seeing them." "In fact, I have some ideas of my own but.." Pausing for a moment, Aethel turned back to the Monarch fully before politely requesting "Father, in order to speed up my additions to Galbar during this early development, might I make use of some of the Mana of the Palace? It is not vitally important since I can make due without it, but it would considerably speed up the development of Galbar's own sources of Mana by introducing a supply of it from the start." Aethel meets Ruina for the first time and politely asks dad if he can use some of the Palace's Mana to get things on Galbar going a lot faster then planned. Cycle 0 Vigor total: 10. Vigor spent: 0. Remaining Vigor: 10.</s> <\|message\|>Jiugui Jiugui The Wine Demon \| The Unquenchable Thirst \| The Rose-Cheeked God Thunderous cacophonies of creation blasted into reality all around, and the scene of existence had in the span of minutes gone from nothing into everything - water, earth, heat, cold, magic - forces of the physical world accompanied by the forces of the cosmos: knowledge, luck, fortitude, destruction and souls. At the centre of it all - Him; the Celestial Master, the Lord Who Towers of All. The Cosmic King had spawned with such magnificent power this roster of retainers, this society of stewards - drizzling the world in rain and penning the words of Creation itself. Life - life was finding its way. It was then that a puddle, not too far from the ruins of the garden fountain, was exposed to the sweet dust of a godly shard; that sugar in the air that blasted off from creation and seasoned the soil with holy spirit. That was enough. The water accepted this candy of Creation and the two fused into a thin syrup that immediately sported a small, brown mustache of foam - an eyeball of yeast blinked up at the rain. It had little time before it would be flushed away. It decided to do something about it. So the yeast spun itself a whirlpool in the puddle and flushed itself down into the soil. There, it quickly found exactly no one, and it couldn't accept that - where was the joy in being alone? So the yeast, immediately changing its mind, tunneled back up into the air and became a cloud. The cloud thickened, but the rain from above kept cutting through it and preventing it from coalescing properly. The cloud, rather annoyed at this point, floated for cover, finding it in the ruins of an ancient pavilion. There, the cloud could finally gather into a clump of foam, and the clump spat out a creature - a man, red of skin, small of growth and round with fat. The creature, clothed in a white silk robe and hatted with a black futou, crashed into the pavilion floor, but spared no muscular expense and turned the clumsy landing into a dexterous roll, ending in a lying seat, a cup spawning in his right hand as if by instinct. With his cup in his grip and a sip to his lip, he, Jiugui, spoke the first drunk poetry the world had ever heard: Thousand years of brewing art Hidden in the Lian Spring, art! Wine from poets' gardens flows, Tastes which will undo all woes. He then looked around. "Wait, where ish everyone?" A cloud of alcohol made from divine shard sugar and rainwater spawns Jiugui, who then recites poetry to exactly no one. Vigor: 10/10, best monarch.</s> <\|message\|>Tuku LlantuALIAS There was a shard among the many that acted in a peculiar way. Of all the shards expelled, this one had been thrown with great violence and force, flying off faster than any other. At some moment or another it changed curse, and instead of flying away from the palace, it circled back, returning to it, still at a great speed, as it neared the immaculate building, the shard exploded into hundreds of micro shards which rained upon a section of the palace like bullets, chipping away the masonry, crashing upon plants, digging holes into the ground. These shards would melt into a shadow coloured slurry, which would snake its path across the garden and coalesce into one singular dark spot from which a colourful figure would rise. Thus had been born the hunt, Tuku Llantu. The masked deity took a moment observing their surroundings in silence, listening to their many siblings proudly announce who they were and their mission. Of these the words and actions of Epsilson were the ones who truly caught their attention, a codex of creation, of knowledge... The aloof god stepped forward and approached such book. They wrote down the things only a hunter's well trained eyes could see in this young universe, the treasured secrets hidden very deep within the world, and upon writing all that... allowed black ink to cover it all, forever embracing such secrets so that even Tuku themselves would no longer know them. "May the uncertainty of the unknown be eternal in this existence" and so it was set that no matter how much it was studied, the world would never be fully understood. That done, the deity moved away, looking upon the blue marble of Galbar and at the palace around them. Both beautiful, both lacking in something. To deal with the former, first the god would need a way to reach it from this exact distance, and to do that they brought forth fibres from the garden which weaved together and became a bow. To deal with the later, the god sat down and clapped their hands together, when they opened, young-lings of three species were to be found. To rise above the plants and trees, a pair of small creatures with bushy tails and skin that extended from their arms and legs. This was called the flying squirrel, pay no heed to the lack of a normal squirrel. To traverse the rooms and small holes of the structure, a pair of small furry creatures were made, with strong teeth and long tails and an undying desire to survive no matter what, these were the rats. Finally, to mirror the still calmness of the waters, a pair of larger rodents were made, with fat bodies and relaxed faces, these creatures would inhabit the ponds of the garden, and were called the capybara. Tuku is created when a shard breaks into smaller shards and crashes upon the palace. They write something in the codex and then place black ink over it, making it so the world will always have mystery and the unknown They make a bow, the first bow, it is not particularly magical outside of the fact it can throw projectiles across worlds. They make three rodents, flying squirels, rats and capybaras, all properly adapted to withstand divine presence and the environment of the palace. Vigour: Initial - 10 Used - 2 [Palace Rodents (1), First Bow Artefact (1)] Current Vigour: 8</s>	<\|message\|>Zelios While all the other shards dramatically shattered and some even went so far as to damage the palace itself, one was considerably more... subdued. Instead of shattering into a thousand pieces, or colliding with nearby walls and furniture, the quiet shard hovered in place. For a moment it looked as if it might not crack, as if it was a dud. Then, it began to slowly fill with a peculiar inky blackness, until the entire thing was as dark as an abyss. Crack! The surface of the crystal was suddenly marred by a single jagged line; an imperfect crack in what had previously been a smooth surface. Then, black smoke began to pour from the crack. Instead of dispersing to fill the room, as smoke was wont to do, it instead remained concentrated. Instead of rising as high as it could go, it went straight to the floor, and began to accumulate there. Aside from the initial sound of the crack forming, all of this happened soundlessly. The darkness in the crystal, meanwhile, was beginning to drain. Only when the crystal was empty did the mass of black smoke begin to shrink in on itself, before suddenly stopping as it took on the form of a black silhoeutte; a bipedal form with two arms. Then the blackness shifted once more, as a pair of what could only be wings extended from its back. Seemingly satisfied, the darkness finally began to transform into actual features: short black hair on a handsome pale face. A suit of fine silver armour with blackened trim. The dark mass of wings sprouted shiny black feathers. The God of Darkness was born. Turning around, he placed a gentle hand on his still-intact crystal, and slowly it floated down to the ground. Then he turned toward his creator, and approached. "Rather rude to leave such great messes in your maker's home, is it not?" the God of Darkness asked the gods who were already gathering around the Monarch. Though his smile and the amused tone in his voice made it clear it was not intended as a true reprimand. "Ah, but I'm not one to talk! I haven't even introduced myself yet." He turned to the Monarch and offered a low bow. "I am Zelios," he introduced himself. --- Zelios is born. Unlike the other gods he takes care not to have his crystal shatter into a million pieces or damage his surroundings. He takes in the form of a dude in silver armour with black feathery wings. Then he approaches the gods gathering around the Monarch and introduces himself.</s>
<\|description\|>ZENIA QUEEN OF FEASTS \| SUMMER-SPIRIT ZENI \| BLITHE BALLADIER Aspect Revelry Celebration and ceremony spring up in all typical mortal cultures. It is inevitable. Even the most battle-hardened veteran will find cause for cheer eventually, when victory against the enemy finally comes, or when the newest child in the family is born. Societies come together to celebrate grand events and holidays. Families and villages revel in the abundance of harvest or the fortunate outcome of hard labor. Individuals find cheer in all manner of things. Sometimes a group of mortals just want to forget the dark and grit that looms over the coming days and immerse themselves in a communal feeling of living in the now and living their best lives. These ceremonies of joy and expressions of happiness fall under the aspect of Revelry. No matter the size, social or societal value, or formality. A party, a ball, and a festival all follow the same notes of spreading good feeling and inspiring people to open up to one another, shape new bonds and experience fresh things. This bubbling flare of emotion is central to Revelry, which centers on allowing those weighed down by stress, anxiety and responsibility to loosen up and appreciate what's in front of them, or look upon the positive parts of their existence. The lowest form of revelry is the simple appreciation of a thing or a moment – a shared laugh or a guilty pleasure. On the most extreme end of revelry lies truly debauched hedonism and dereliction of duty to pursue personal pleasure. With control of this aspect, Zenia directs crowds to ease their tensions and celebrate what they have in common. She can create from next to nothing the urge to liven up and forget about the past – and the future – even if just for a time. This could stall an army that decides to have a hearty feast before marching on, create the perfect harvest festival for a village that will live on in memory in many new ways, or help someone literally become the life of the party to elevate their social standing to new heights. The reverse is true as well of course, and upsetting the goddess of revelry is a quick path to a cheerless existence. Persona Zenia is easy to write off as something of a simple-minded goddess. She doesn't particularly care for grand plots be they mortal or divine, nor does she seem to have the head for even mortal concepts of knowledge. Some would therefore conclude that she's a little dense or airheaded; Zenia would say that she doesn't have time to consider big-picture things like that. Someone else will figure it out, and she can focus on the truly important stuff like what to wear, or the lyrics to a bard's particularly raunchy song. Despite this, one would be remiss to write the goddess off as one-note. Her displeasure for rational thought and responsibility coupled with an apparently inborn love of festivities makes her as much of a boon to others as a constant disruption, happy to throw off schemes and well-laid plans of mortals and deities alike to arrange a kicking get-together. Something troubling lies behind the behavior however, as Zenia seems more comfortable amidst a party and tends to drift onwards to her next target when the booze, food and fraternizing starts drying up. The same shirking of duties that she consistently tries to foist on others is how she approaches her own existence as a deity as well and seems to loathe being called on to do anything deific in an official capacity. She prefers to spread cheer and move on, taking life one day at a time, conflicted about her own role in any grand design and chafing at the thought of having to take responsibility for just about anything. Form In her unbound, mind-warping form, Zenia is no more a physical entity than a splash of colour in the eye of the beholder or a tune hummed from right behind the listener. She is energy given form, an unbridled light and frequency that tries to overpower all it passes into exuding the same bristling joy that she normally espouses. Survivors will remember frenzied and jumbled melodies, burning pains in their legs and arms as all adrenaline drains, and so much need to appreciate life that they might not appreciate anything ever again. Given the danger and fragility of such a state, Zenia is most typically shaped as an athletic young woman with long blonde hair, clad in regalia that either adheres to local customs, or baubles and regal elegance that doesn't seem to originate anywhere in the world. She has a penchant for appearing as an unimportant woman of the local species happy to participate in some revelry, but the knowledgeable will probably suspect something. Musical theme</s> <\|message\|>Tuku LlantuALIAS There was a shard among the many that acted in a peculiar way. Of all the shards expelled, this one had been thrown with great violence and force, flying off faster than any other. At some moment or another it changed curse, and instead of flying away from the palace, it circled back, returning to it, still at a great speed, as it neared the immaculate building, the shard exploded into hundreds of micro shards which rained upon a section of the palace like bullets, chipping away the masonry, crashing upon plants, digging holes into the ground. These shards would melt into a shadow coloured slurry, which would snake its path across the garden and coalesce into one singular dark spot from which a colourful figure would rise. Thus had been born the hunt, Tuku Llantu. The masked deity took a moment observing their surroundings in silence, listening to their many siblings proudly announce who they were and their mission. Of these the words and actions of Epsilson were the ones who truly caught their attention, a codex of creation, of knowledge... The aloof god stepped forward and approached such book. They wrote down the things only a hunter's well trained eyes could see in this young universe, the treasured secrets hidden very deep within the world, and upon writing all that... allowed black ink to cover it all, forever embracing such secrets so that even Tuku themselves would no longer know them. "May the uncertainty of the unknown be eternal in this existence" and so it was set that no matter how much it was studied, the world would never be fully understood. That done, the deity moved away, looking upon the blue marble of Galbar and at the palace around them. Both beautiful, both lacking in something. To deal with the former, first the god would need a way to reach it from this exact distance, and to do that they brought forth fibres from the garden which weaved together and became a bow. To deal with the later, the god sat down and clapped their hands together, when they opened, young-lings of three species were to be found. To rise above the plants and trees, a pair of small creatures with bushy tails and skin that extended from their arms and legs. This was called the flying squirrel, pay no heed to the lack of a normal squirrel. To traverse the rooms and small holes of the structure, a pair of small furry creatures were made, with strong teeth and long tails and an undying desire to survive no matter what, these were the rats. Finally, to mirror the still calmness of the waters, a pair of larger rodents were made, with fat bodies and relaxed faces, these creatures would inhabit the ponds of the garden, and were called the capybara. Tuku is created when a shard breaks into smaller shards and crashes upon the palace. They write something in the codex and then place black ink over it, making it so the world will always have mystery and the unknown They make a bow, the first bow, it is not particularly magical outside of the fact it can throw projectiles across worlds. They make three rodents, flying squirels, rats and capybaras, all properly adapted to withstand divine presence and the environment of the palace. Vigour: Initial - 10 Used - 2 [Palace Rodents (1), First Bow Artefact (1)] Current Vigour: 8</s> <\|message\|>Zelios Zelios --- While all the other shards dramatically shattered and some even went so far as to damage the palace itself, one was considerably more... subdued. Instead of shattering into a thousand pieces, or colliding with nearby walls and furniture, the quiet shard hovered in place. For a moment it looked as if it might not crack, as if it was a dud. Then, it began to slowly fill with a peculiar inky blackness, until the entire thing was as dark as an abyss. Crack! The surface of the crystal was suddenly marred by a single jagged line; an imperfect crack in what had previously been a smooth surface. Then, black smoke began to pour from the crack. Instead of dispersing to fill the room, as smoke was wont to do, it instead remained concentrated. Instead of rising as high as it could go, it went straight to the floor, and began to accumulate there. Aside from the initial sound of the crack forming, all of this happened soundlessly. The darkness in the crystal, meanwhile, was beginning to drain. Only when the crystal was empty did the mass of black smoke begin to shrink in on itself, before suddenly stopping as it took on the form of a black silhoeutte; a bipedal form with two arms. Then the blackness shifted once more, as a pair of what could only be wings extended from its back. Seemingly satisfied, the darkness finally began to transform into actual features: short black hair on a handsome pale face. A suit of fine silver armour with blackened trim. The dark mass of wings sprouted shiny black feathers. The God of Darkness was born. Turning around, he placed a gentle hand on his still-intact crystal, and slowly it floated down to the ground. Then he turned toward his creator, and approached. "Rather rude to leave such great messes in your maker's home, is it not?" the God of Darkness asked the gods who were already gathering around the Monarch. Though his smile and the amused tone in his voice made it clear it was not intended as a true reprimand. "Ah, but I'm not one to talk! I haven't even introduced myself yet." He turned to the Monarch and offered a low bow. "I am Zelios," he introduced himself. --- Zelios is born. Unlike the other gods he takes care not to have his crystal shatter into a million pieces or damage his surroundings. He takes in the form of a dude in silver armour with black feathery wings. Then he approaches the gods gathering around the Monarch and introduces himself.</s>	<\|message\|>ZENIA Among the chaotic emissions that was the Monarch of All's grand expense of effort, as well as the building crescendo of nascent deities escaping the prisons of their previous non-existence, one shard among the many drifted silently through the void. It careened away from the bridge with the sort of heedless abandon that only inanimate objects could, threatening an existence wholly consumed by traveling the darkness of the beyond for all time. Then, as if willfully rejecting this fate, or perhaps responding to the sounds of unfolding chaos of divine action, the shard vibrated. At first, it was but a simple tremble, the rustle of porcelain when someone bumps the table. It did not remain that way for long; the vibrations grew wild and intense with worrying speed. Soon it shook like an earthquake unto itself, and the edges of the shard grew blurry. The energies contained within dissipated from it like a roll of thread unrolling itself into the void of space, until the contours of the shard were so fuzzy and intangible that it now resembled a simple flurry of jagged, shifting shapes and expelled particles. It grew and grew until finally it expanded a final time, accompanied by a loud boom that rang through the void. Silence did not return - instead where once there had been quiet there was now an ever present buzzing, a hum, several melodies, the hint of laughter, concentrated deep within that shifting haze of colour and contours. This jumble of contours whizzed and zipped erratically through space, changing direction almost at random with brief exception for heading towards the sounds of other divinities when next they made a sound. Eventually the shape seemed to decide upon the fixed placement of the Monarch-of-All as He orbited the watered prison. With a vibrant hum this unwound and vibrating ball of divine yarn sped towards its creator and those few gathered in His presence, making the journey in reality-breaking speeds. The mess of color and sounds came to an unstable halt around the small congregation before the Monarch, and hummed a sequence of thoughtful but discordant melodies. It took in the gathering deities in a way that only a humming cloud of materia could, before beginning to vibrate profusely once more. The energy gathered and congealed quickly, taking form once more; not as a small shard, but as those gathered before the Monarch. First it appeared to take the silhouette of Aethel, only to warp into a half-proper image of the stoic Zelios, and finally turning into a near-perfect copy of Ruina, down to the mysterious scarring that marred the nascent goddess' face. The copycat cooed and hummed, inspecting her own work and arms before grinning to the others. Wearing Ruina's face, she bowed deeply to the Monarch in a motion deep enough to be mocking the idea of bowing, before giggling with unbridled mirth and testing her new legs by spontaneously righting herself and kicking up in a spirited jump for joy. What followed was an unedited verbal stream of consciousness. "Yes! Let's go! This is gonna be, like, great. I'm so excited! I already have so many ideas that would be totally amazing. Bright things. Fluffy things. A shiny thing that goes 'ting!'. Zenia is on the mission! ...Zenia? I think I'm Zenia!" She lounged around expectantly for all of a second. When it sunk in that her display did not immediately spread cheer, the copycat Ruina shrugged her shoulders and took a running start - in space - towards the prison ball and escaped the congregation with a mirthful laugh. It took her about three paces to start trying to do cartwheels all the way down. Either way, she left her creator and siblings in the dust, looking like someone else and trying to beat her own cartwheel record of zero. Zenia is born, takes the appearance of Ruina, and cartwheels to Galbar. Zenia has 10 Vigor. Tremble mortals and despair.</s>
<\|description\|>Matias Valencia Race: Human, White Hispanic Sex: Male Looks: A short (5'4'') man with an athletic build. He has long black hair that's messy and goes down to around his shoulders. He has a black stubble beard that he keeps at medium length. He has deep, brown eyes with dark circles hanging underneath. A mole sits under his left (viewer's right) eye. Skills: Trained kickboxer, artist Weapons: Usually fights with bare hands/brass knuckles, uses blunt objects if necessary. Carries around a small hand gun but rarely uses it to conserve ammo Weaknesses: Short-fused, stubborn, grudger, selfish, sadistic</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia The bumpiness of the ride only exacerbated Matias's pain. It showed no signs of leaving him; it was here to stay for however long he wanted to keep up with it. He could hardly pay attention to Iris's explanation or really anything outside of the excruciation he was going through right now. "I don't know," he grunted, clenching his arms around his body. "Kind of... Urgh... wish I died, to be honesssssst... Rrrrgh..." The van stopped, but, of course, not the pain. Gritting his teeth didn't help at all, but Matias did it anyway. He at least gained back some mobility in his lower half, but all he could really do was curl his legs inwards in an attempt to squeeze out more pain. "'Nuts', huh? That's what you have to say? Christ..."</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Iris looked back at him and said "I don't really have other words for it…" scarlet opened the doors and checked the other two and frowned. "They are in bad shape. That bomb did damage…" she helped Matias out of the van and into one of the arm chairs they had set up in the sitting area Scarlet had made up. Then her and Iris moved Dante and Bane onto the medical beds by the windows so Iris could start working on them. Scarlet went back to Matias and checked his eyes saying "seems you only got a dose of it…does moving help? Or maybe heat? I'm not totally sure how to help…" Iris was working her sage magic on the other two and called over "try moving the limbs affected. He might just need the current pushed out…" Scarlet nodded and said "maybe walking with you leaning on me?"</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia It only took one foot touching the ground for Matias's pain to shoot up. The man let out a strained cry, shutting his eyes tight as he wobbled over to the chair offered to him. The coolness of the seat was but a temporary fix. "Moving hurt like hell," he growled, "are you kidding me? There's got to be another way..." Still, Matias took one leg in his hands and pulled it upwards. It wasn't as painful as setting all one hundred and forty pounds of him onto it, but it was still unpleasant. There was a sudden moment of numbness, but that was about as much improvement as he got. "It... kinda works. Just for like two seconds though."</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Scarlet sighed then looked at the doors. "I hope the boss is okay…" Iris was still working on the boys and said "okay, it looks like cold helps more. Try getting the ice blankets" scarlet nodded and ran to the cooler, pulling out a fabric meant to be cold for things like this. She came back and laid it over his legs. "Let's try that…is that helping at all?"</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia The sudden chill at Matias's legs made him scrunch his face and wince. The cold fought the pain upon contact, and for once Matias felt like things weren't totally terrible. "That definitely works," he sighed, opening his legs slightly to let the chill get everywhere it could. The pain lingered, but by a thread. Most of what Matias felt at the moment was nice, cold numbness. "How are the other guys holding up?"</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Iris looked over and said "Dante is okay. His already cold so I think the shock just stunned him. I'll get him some blood when he wakes up and he should be fine. Bane took the worst of it. His in pain and it will take some working to relieve it" Scarlet smiled glad it worked then said "should I go back and find the boss?"</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia "Hmmph." Matias settled in. The cold had a vice grip on his legs, but the pain had mostly dissipated. In his comfort, however, he refused to move; had he not been in a conversation, he likely would have fallen asleep. He definitely wasn't going to now that Iris suggested going back to the power plant. "You're crazy," he laughed half-heartedly, "Noooo way, mija. Besides, he told us to come back here. Now, I'm not one to blindly comply, but after what happened over there..." His legs shuffled slightly under the blanket's weight. "... Nah. I'm good."</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Iris nodded and said "his right Scarlet. The boss will be fine. They have been in worse. Just wait till the boys can move without pain again and if it gets to be too long then I'll go with you back to see what's going on alright?" Scarlet sighed and nodded, still looking worried. "I hope the boss is okay…that guy looked big…"</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia For about half an hour, Matias fought back against his own drowsiness. His thoughts served as his only form of entertainment at the moment, so it proved difficult. He didn't exactly want to be reminded by how he almost died twice today, or how much work they still had left for all their cases, or the possibility of that disgusting bug coming back, or how the boss could very likely have– "Hey... I think I'm better now." He set the blanket aside on the work table, slowly rising to his feet. He had to grip the side of the table for a moment, however, as his legs weren't ready for this sudden change yet. "You guys decided what you're gonna do yet?"</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Scarlet was pacing as Iris was working on Bane to try and get his own healing to kick in. Iris looked up and said "Scarlet is freaking out. I can't go until I can trigger Banes healing so he isn't in danger…" Scarlet cursed softly and said "I don't like waiting around. They could be hurt or worse…" suddenly one of the doors started opening and a cycle pulled in. The boss was on the back, blood dripping off them as they stumbled off the cycle. Scarlet gasped and said "Boss?" The boss was breathing hard and said weakly "it's…handled…"</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia The empty air of the room allowed for the sound of the doors to reverberate off the walls. It certainly caught Matias's attention at least. The sight of the bloodied boss cemented his choice. His eyes went wide, and his throat was caught in a snag. He didn't need the blanket for the chill that was running through his spine right now. "The hell happened to you?!" he roared, forcing himself to confront the boss. He seemingly had no problem getting blood all over his clothes if it meant rushing this poor person to another bed. He also had no problem dirtying the bed itself, either. "Jesus... Tell me where you're hurt! Can't see any damn wounds with all that red stuff on you." After setting the boss down and flicking off the excess blood, Matias ran to the other side of the room to grab a med kit. He knew he needed more than that, obviously, but it would have to do. He rummaged through the kit as he jogged back, pulling out some pads. He hurriedly patted these pads all over the boss, soaking up as much blood as he could, as little as each pad could actually do.</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow The boss was breathing hard as Matias helped them to the bed. They grunted in pain and muttered "it's not all mine…the commander decided he didn't want to go quietly…took longer then I planned to handle him…" Scarlet ran over with more supplies and said "it may not be all your blood but your bleeding a lot" she moved their arm and they saw the wound. It looked like they had been run thru with a lightening bolt just under the heart. Iris was finishing with Bane and saw the boss and said "crap…"</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia Matias almost immediately caught sight of the wound as soon as it was uncovered. He paused his treatment to take in the graveness of the situation. He exhaled sharply before returning to his hasty work. "You're really making this out to be less than what it is," he huffed, "and we REALLY can't afford to lose anyone right now. Especially not you." After patting out the last bit of blood that the last pad could swallow, he took a closer look at the wound. He, however, could barely stand to look at it for more than five seconds. "How do I even approach this? Disinfectant? I'm no medic..."</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Iris walked over and said "boss you will have to lose the outfit if I'm going to treat this…" The boss looked up and shook their head. "No…I'll bind the wound with shadows then it will be fine…" They tried to get up and moved their hand. Shadows wrapped around the wound. Scarlet said "boss no. You need that treated"</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia Matias brow furrowed at the boss's response. He met their gaze– or at least tried to– keeping the expression. "Alright," he puffed, "I'm pretty sure you can drop the mysterious hooded guy thing for a few moments so you don't, you know, die. Quit messing around." Gingerly, he pinched the bottom hem of the boss's robe and began to pull it up. "We'll pretend we didn't see anything, okay? Anyone here have mind-wiping powers or something?"</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Shadows moved to stop the cloak from moving and the boss said "it's not just for show. It's to protect the team. Understand that I'm trying…trying…" they swayed a bit and Scarlet said "boss? You alright?" They held their head then fell forward, scarlet moving to try and catch them. "Iris we need you!" Scarlet tried to hold them up but said "dang they have a lot of body armor on. We have to get this stuff off"</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia "'Protect the team'? What are you even–?" Before Matias could finish his sentence, the boss suddenly heeled forward. His hands leaped forward and caught onto the boss's body, pushing forward in an attempt to stabilize them. Their weight proved a mighty adversary, however, pushing back with the weight of whatever they had on right now. "Listen," Matias growled, "cut the crap. We're not going to die if we take off your cosplay. That's ridiculous. Just let us help you or else you're actually going to screw up the team." He looked towards Iris, gritting his teeth. "Can you talk some sense into this idiot? Please?"</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Iris moved over and said "they don't need to. They are out cold…the shock must have worn off. We need to lay them down and get this off" scarlet helped over the boss to free bed and laid them on it. "Come on, let's get this stuff enough to get to the wound…any idea where this thing started? It's like a wrapped mess"</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia Matias helped with the procedure, cradling the boss's legs and settling them down on the bloodied sheets. He eyed Scarlet as she spoke before looking back at the boss's pseudocorpse. With no blood or shadows or aggression in the way, he could now take a proper gander at what the group was looking at. "Look," he said, pointing at the notable mark on the boss's chest. "That's the actual wound, pretty sure. Never seems anything like it, honestly. The marks..." His fingers floated over the raised lines sprouting over the boss's skin from the wound itself. "... Is this magic or something?"</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Scarlet was looking closely and said "it's smart armor. I think the best from the bolt is what broke thru it. We need to find the latches. Let's get the cloak off" They started to pull the fabric off and back until they saw the chest plate. At the corners were latches which Iris undid. When they pulled it back, they heard the pressure release. When they finally got the armor off they stopped. The wound was sitting under the heart, but there was a shirt covering more then the wound. Scarlet looked up and said "the boss is a girl?"</s>	<\|message\|>Matias Valencia At least the plate had the decency to open on its own. Still, it was rather surreal to see even part of the boss uncloaked. He was about to grab the med kits set aside when Scarlet spoke. It was almost a blessing Matias was facing away from her, because the face he made was anything but pretty. Scrunched nose, furrowed brow, clenched jaw... All in all, not too happy. He took a moment to take in a single breath to calm his nerves before facing the boss again. "Now's not the time to be assuming people's identities," he grumbled, "Get some dressing ready. I'm gonna disinfect this." He took a pad from one kit and a bottle of alcohol in another, then dampened the former with the latter. The resulting chemical smell filled Matias's nostrils. He gently pulled up the boss's shirt, which took some effort as the fabric around the afflicted area was just beginning to stick to their skin. "If you're awake... This is gonna sting." He dabbed the pad on the edges of the wound, careful not to do it directly on it just yet. He saw the pad gaining rust-like stains, but he continued despite it.</s>
<\|description\|>Matias Valencia Race: Human, White Hispanic Sex: Male Looks: A short (5'4'') man with an athletic build. He has long black hair that's messy and goes down to around his shoulders. He has a black stubble beard that he keeps at medium length. He has deep, brown eyes with dark circles hanging underneath. A mole sits under his left (viewer's right) eye. Skills: Trained kickboxer, artist Weapons: Usually fights with bare hands/brass knuckles, uses blunt objects if necessary. Carries around a small hand gun but rarely uses it to conserve ammo Weaknesses: Short-fused, stubborn, grudger, selfish, sadistic</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia Matias hobbled over to Dante to get a closer look at the file. The aforementioned information was on this particular sheet, barely discernable in the ocean of condensed font but still there. "Then there's gotta be a slave owner," he said, "that might clue us in. Then again, I feel like this might be a collective effort..." He then looked towards Iris and company. "How's the boss looking? Think they'll make it?"</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Iris looked over and said "we are pushing luck here but she's not human so it's helping…I think I'll be able to fix this…" Bane was by the window and looking around. "Think we can get her out of here? It's going to look bad if any office worker walks in" Donny nodded and said "yes, there's a escape door in her private office. Just in case of something like this. She has nothing else on her schedule today" Midnight coughed and said weakly "no…it's too risky…don't risk yourselves for my sake…"</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia "Me cago en la..." Matias threw his head up from the file, his fist slamming against the desk. He was glaring directly at Midnight now. "Will you just let us help you?! If we stay here, we're gonna be in even bigger trouble, and you might just die right here. I get you need your anonymity, but seriously." Matias stood up, hands on his hips. "Where's that office? We can't waste any more time."</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Donny jumped up and opened the door to the next room. "In here. Behind the bookcase. Go down the stairs and there's the coach waiting there. We always keep it there in case of emergencies" Bane nodded and went into the office with the fawn. Iris moved back and said "she's stable enough we can move her. I get her back to the warehouse and I can finish this" Midnight sighed and said "I'm sorry…I thought this would be safer…with the notes everyone keeps finding…I didn't want to add more risk…"</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia Matias let out an exasperated sigh, his head lowering slightly as his eyes closed tightly but briefly. "We can worry about everything else later," he said, "but first we have to worry about you. Now come on." He stepped over to Midnight's left and hooked her arm in his. With Iris's help he carried the boss over to the room as directed. Past the bookcase sat the staircase, just as promised; still, he almost tripped in his haste. Thankfully, this flight of stairs was much more forgiving than the ones he traversed previously, but Matias could already feel his legs start to cry. "Don't even make me think about stairs when we're out of here," he grumbled.</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Iris held her up as she said "promise. No more stairs. You thought fast." Bane was at the bottom and opened the door, heading outside. When they reached it there was a black coach sitting out front with a robotic horse sitting in front waiting. Bane blinked then helped the pair get Midnight to the coach. "This thing is kinda cool. Old school meets nowadays"</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia While Matias had to admit that it was his first time seeing a horse-drawn carriage in person– let alone one as modernized as this– he had little time to visually appreciate it as the three hauled Midnight inside. He scrambled in place a bit as he tried to find the steps (More stairs! What did he just say?!), but he thankfully did, climbing up and setting himself down on the first seat he could find. But then his hand went to his mouth. "Wait," he said, "Where's this thing gonna take us? The warehouse?"</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Bane jumped to the front and said "looks like you can drive it or it has an autopilot…to the old part of the upper level" Iris poked her head out and said "we need the closer location. The boss won't last like this for long" Midnight was shaking, her wound starting to bleed again. Dante shut to the steps and the coach and said "take us the upper level. It's closer. It's probably her house" bane nodded and hit the autopilot and the horse started to move, faster then they would have thought for a horse.</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia The inertia from the sudden movement nearly hurled Matias over his seat, though his legs got quite the stretch. He let out a yelp as he gripped the lower edge of the seat, attempting to stabilize himself. "This thing's fast," he huffed, patting his feet on the ground. It was then that he noticed Midnight bleeding once again. He had a good reach on her, so he took one hand and gently pressed it on the wound, over the fabric of her shirt. The dampness under his palm grew with time, but he didn't move for even a second. "Deep breaths," he muttered, looking forwardd now.</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Midnight looked at him and said "thank you…" Iris was working on a bandage with medication on it. "Just breath boss. Look at Matias. Try not to pass out till we get there" Bane was watching the route, making sure there wasn't anyone following. Iris looked at Dante and said "you alright? Did you get hit?" Dante looked over and shook his head. Midnight flinched again and her hand found Matias's other one and held it.</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia The more the carriage rattled along, the wetter Matias's palm got. Still, he didn't move. His hand pressed a tad harder onto the wound to try and contain the flow. "You almost done with that?" Matias asked Iris. "I'm not sure if I can hold the blood for any lo–?" There was a sudden, shaky warmth at his free hand, making him jolt. He looked down and saw a pale hand gripping at it weakly. He would have yanked himself away had he not seen who the hand was attached to. Well, he probably would have anyway, but the boss was quite literally dying at this point. Some tact would be nice. So he gripped it right back, running his thumb along the middle knuckle. "We're almost there. I hope."</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Iris nodded and moved over, lifting Matias hand enough to switch out the bandage with the new skin with medicine and laid it on the wound. Midnight gasped in pain and the shadows in the coach moved with her pain. Bane cursed as the whole coach moved and yelled "we are almost there! What is going on in there"</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia Matias swore and jumped, his knees shooting up to his chest as he anticipated a fall. The innards of the carriage creaked with each shift in movement. "Those things," he yelled, pointing vaguely at the blurry black figures. "The shadow things! They're freaking out!" His sight focused on Midnight now, who looked in serious pain. With both hands now free he laid them atop her upper side and rubbed her softly. "¿Que pasas? Just hold on for a little longer, we're almost there..." He then looked forwards, doubt clouding his head.</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Bane cursed and said "we are almost there hold on…" Iris was sealing the wound and said "I got it. Just get us there Bane!" Dante was holding Midnight's shoulders as they suddenly turned and pulled to a stop. Bane jumped down and opens the door. They came out to a old school manor. It was nice but not over done. Dante jumped out and said "nice place. A lot like her office" Iris kicked Dante out of the way and said "Matias can you carry her out?"</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia Matias could see the shadows relaxing from the corner of his eye, although his main focus was making sure Midnight couldn't agitate them again. There was a sudden twist that threatened to toss him off his seat, but he remained as glued as he could. His breathing was slightly labored by the time they arrived. "Huh?" He looked from his seat. It was Iris. "Uh... Sure." As gingerly as he could, he shimmied Midnight's body into his arms. "Ven." Now that he was cradling her, he slowly took himself off his seat and stepped out of the carriage with slow and gentle footing. Once his boots met the floor, he looked up at the manor. It was nice. At least it wasn't eye-bleedingly gold. "Mija," he said, looking down at Midnight, "you got keys or something so we can go inside?"</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Midnight flinched then said weakly "door code…the year of the last war…" Iris heard her and moved to the door, punching it in and the doors opened. When they walked inside the lights turned on and a cyber wolf appeared at the top of the stairs. It moved his head to follow him and Bane said "holy crap she built the horse…" Iris moved up the stairs, midnight barely staying awake in matias's arms.</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia Do elevators just not exist for these people? Aren't they supposed to be rich? Thankfully, Matias's legs were rested enough that he was confident about being able to make the flight. He climbed slowly, his legs only mildly complaining. One he reached the top, he was about to follow the group, but he stopped and looked down at Midnight. His blood ran cold for a moment when he saw that her eyes were barely open. "Hey," he whispered, rocking her softly. "Wake up. I need to ask you something." He looked left and right and then down. "Where's your room?"</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Midnight flinched again then said "down the hall…the last door…it has the big window…" Iris was looking around as Bane went to make sure the house was secure. Dante moved next to Matias and said "I'll get the doors. Come on" The pair took the boss down the hallway and Dante opened the door. The room was nice, but like everything else not to the level of upper level. More of a old school comfort. Dante moved to the window and hit the switch for the shades, raising them up. The bed was a queen and in the middle of the wall next to the huge wall of windows that faced the sunset. Fitting for a shadow elemental. Dante moved to get the blankets back, which looked like the bed hadn't been slept in for a while. Midnight gasped as they laid her down and Dante added "I think we lost the doctor. I'll go get her" he vanished out of the room, leaving the pair alone.</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia Matias looked down the hall and followed Dante inside the room. The floorboards underneath his feet creaked softly with every step he took. He was blinded for just a moment as the shades went up, the sun in close range to the window. Once his vision returned, he looked towards the bed, envious that it wasn't his. It was stripped by Dante and pressed upon by Midnight's body being gently laid on top. The creak from her weight was barely audible. "Let me know if you need anything," Matias said, I'll be here waiting for the others." He perched himself by the window, looking out. From here he could see a bit of the city bustling in all its golden obnoxiousness. On occasion he looked back at Midnight to see how she was doing, but he remained where he sat.</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Midnight was trying to take deep breathes as she looked over at Matias. "I'm sorry for all of this…telling me about the notes you've been finding? I need to keep talking or I will pass out again…" The door opened and Iris came in with Dante and rushed to the bed to start up working again.</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia The sound of Midnight's quivering voice made Matias look back with a dull albeit concerned expression. He raised an eyebrow at her question. "The notes? Not sure why you want to talk about that now of all times, but..." He turned around, pulling one leg up to his lap. "I found another one this morning. It had a different set of coordinates. I have it... Uh..." He dug in his jacket pocket, swearing under his breath when he realized it wasn't there anymore. Dante's entrance, however, clued him in on its current location. "Hey," he called over to Dante, "do you still have that note I gave you this morning?"</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Dante nodded and pulled it out, handing it back to him and said "ya we haven't had a chance to take it to lab" Iris looked over but kept working on the wound before her. "It's bad but we have gotten ahead of it. I can fix this better now. Just hang in there for me boss…"</s>	<\|message\|>Matias Valencia Matias took a moment to open the note and read it to himself. There really wasn't much to read, but it was much to think about. "𝙳𝙾 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙹𝙾𝙱," it screamed for all eternity. Seemingly following the note's orders, he opened a web browser on his phone and painstakingly typed every character of the given coordinates. It was only so because his memory was admittedly poor, but he managed. It was seemingly for naught, however, because his search engine mapped said coordinates seemingly in the middle of nowhere. No businesses or even roads covered the area for miles. "Freaking weirdo," he grumbled under his breath, putting his phone away. "I think I gave you the first note I got," he said, directing his words at Midnight now. "If you manage to get better, we can run that one by the lab too..." He let out a soft huff. "I just... hope you get better."</s>
<\|description\|>Erick Appearance: Height: 5'9, medium lean and muscular build. Complexion: Fair, evidence - small nicks and scars - of his experience in combat. Dark blonde hair clipped to a French crop. Hazel eyes. Facial hair generally well kept and short. Attire: Everyday clothes are usually understated, plain linen; a long-sleeve belted tunic, trousers with leg wraps and leather shoes or low cut boot, leather bracers, fit for sparring or riding. Court clothes would include an embroidered quilted tunic (belted) dyed in a deep red or blue over a shirt, and appropriately matching trousers and tall leather boots, a dense fur-trimmed cloak is worn across one shoulder closed together with a heavy silver ouroboros broach, and some articles of jewellery; necklaces and rings. Age: 21 Bio: Erick is the middle child of King Henrick, who rules the northern Kingdom of Jörda. The fringes of the country begin at the other side of the river that cuts through Sahas, they have hard borders up against several Gilthan states in the far north and west, meaning the Kingdom has been involved in conflicts for some time to push back Gilthan advance. Fortunately, much of the northern terrain is hilly and mountainous and larger settlements in Jörda are heavily fortified, King Henrick however fears these advantages will not be sufficient to halt enemy advances indefinitely, and has therefore decided that an alliance with Astalia will be necessary in the preservation of the sovereignty of Jörda. Jörda has fertile land centrally and south towards the river, highly self sufficient in growing crops for textiles and food, it's people, whom are predominantly human, are also skilled boat builders; they make use of the river for freshwater fishing as well as occasional access to the Eastern sea where settlements aren't near the coast. The mountainous regions are rich in ores and some precious metals, consequently, Jörda produces some of the hardest metal weaponry. Jörda traders abroad may be seen with wares such as animal pelts, textiles, and fine crafted weapons and jewellery. Erick's older brother Andor, whom was the eldest of the three children, was killed some months ago in a bloody battle at the northern front, from which Erick has returned after completing his brother's work. He is a skilled swordsman, equestrian and archer. There has been little time for Erick to pursue other interests outside the scope of warfare, as the country is embroiled in perpetual conflict, and he has been tasked with defending the people of Jörda.</s> <\|message\|>Loreena Altera Lore's eyebrows raised some as Sulhana stepped forward and addressed the princes who arrived. What was she up to? She passed a look to Uriah, who simply lifted a shoulder in an elegant shrug. "The Princess of Whispers speaks loudly and boldly so quickly," the ghost voice of her teacher murmured near silently in her ear. Loreena suppressed making a face at him in response. The elder princess did pull a slightly exasperated face at Sulhana as she extended the invitation. "Everything is going to be safe to eat and drink, right, love? I'm not entirely convinced after that display" she teased gently, only for the siblings to hear. It was no secret to the sisters their various general viewpoints on the matter, Loreena thus far being the only one to openly seem excited about the prospect of experiencing life beyond their lands, even if it was against a backdrop of conflict. When Sulhana stepped away, Lore approached the princes in turn, Uriah at her heels. From his robes, he produced small boxes, and held them while Loreena selected the ones she desired and moved to each prince. Taking a box, she offered it to Vyarin. "Dro Vyarin," she began, speaking in a passably accented Prozdy language, "please accept my welcome to our home." Within the box was a jewel set into an intricate knot of ribbons, the colors of the house of Astalia. Lore continued in the language, though ot was obvious she was not fluent. "A symbol of strength, unity, and longevity, we are honored you are here." She did not bow nor expect him to, acknowledging him as equal. She moved on to Alvaro, taking a box and presenting to to him with the traditional elven bow to an equal. Within Alvaro's box was a jewel, wrapped in and set in a backdrop of pure silver wire, intricately curled and twisted in the style of traditional elvish scrollwork. "A symbol of passion and elegance, I welcome you warmly to our home." Gil was next, and she gave him a respectful bow. "Prince Gil, thank you for accepting our invitation." She offered his box. Within was a braided ribbon of Astalian colors, from the end dangled another jewel, a ribbon for his hair if he chose to wear it. "A symbol of courage and good fortune, I hope you feel welcomed in our home." And finally, she came to Erick, giving him a proper Jördanian greeting. "Prince Erick, I hope your journey was not too taxing." She offered Erick his gift. Within the box was a dark yellow jewel entwined with black and gray ribbon embroidered with spun gold thread. His house colors. "A symbol of loyalty and trust, it is my hope that you feel welcome here." Having been carefully inspected by Uriah for accuracy and propriety, the princess had carefully tailored each gift personally for the individual princes in the days and weeks leading up to their arrival. The tokens had been handmade by her, a personal gift to welcome her new brothers and one that would hopefully mean something sentimental to her own potential suitor.</s> <\|message\|>Gil Jalal \| \| \| \| ______________________________________ \| \| --- Looking around Gil observed the other Princes who had accepted the invite. He had been given a crash course on each of them. As much as possible at least. His country was small, new, and lacked the resources to get certain information. Most of what he knew came straight from the mouths of the people from his Kingdom and he wasn't sure how much was true and how much were rumors and speculation. Either way he took what he could get with a grain of salt. His blue eyes also glanced over the Astalian Royal Family. They too were surprisingly different. He wondered how a family who was supposedly all related by the same blood could vary so greatly. He figured it was something to do with the late Queen, who had only been described to him as a beautifully kind woman. Though he supposed his siblings also varied greatly, both in appearance and personality. Gil was lost in thought when the King started his speech and by the time he had focused back in, the man had already finished speaking. He would have to ask Sioban what was said later, Aldar would only scold him for not paying attention the first time. Before he had the chance to move one of the Princesses was standing to address them. She spoke in a manner that commanded just as much attention as his own mother. As though she knew more than she was letting on. It piqued his interest to say the least and he listened to what she had to say to each of them, hoping to glean something new about the men that stood around him, as well as simply being fascinated by this woman who was addressing them. The Prodzy prince and himself made this woman look like a child and yet her presence was nothing if not large. When she finally moved to address him directly he couldn't help but smile at her knowledge of his culture. Most simply chose to believe his people were cruel brutes so the fact that she knew something as simple as how his people showed their status and their achievements made him happy. The small smile on his face persisted when she moved to the last of the Princes. She ended her address with an invitation to an event of sorts and then she was gone. He had but just a moment to think before yet another Princess stood to address them. She too commanded the attention in the room but in a different way, he couldn't quite put his finger on it. This woman also addressed each Prince individually though from what he could see she offered gifts. When she offered him the box he gently took it, curious as to what it could be. He opened it to reveal the braided ribbon. He looked at the gift and then back to the woman who had offered it. As per his culture he would not be able to add the ribbon to his hair himself but he bowed his head in thanks and passed the box off to Sioban, who would have to look it over and perform the proper rituals before Gil could don the braided ribbon. Regardless, if the ancestors permitted he had every intention of adding the braid to his person. The princess moved to address the next Prince and finally there was pause enough for him to speak up. He stepped forward to address the King Aldar on his heels, holding a long rectangular box. "It is common practice in my culture, when visiting a leader of another clan, to present said leader with a gift, commonly said gift is a weapon. From my father to you I present this sword crafted by my country's best dwarven smith." His voice deep and his Astalian mediocre at best. Aldar walked forward presenting the box, now opened, to the King revealing a simple blade with a heavily decorated hilt. The sword itself was very similar to that of a long sword however the decorative hilt was shorter than standard and the hilt also bore a metal guard where the hand would be placed. The box was taken by the King who looked it over and then handed the box off to a servant. The older man nodded in thanks and Gil stepped back, Aldar having already done so once the box was taken.</s>	<\|message\|>Erick So it transpired that Erick was indeed the first to arrive at the Astalian palace, the others however, weren't far behind him much to his relief - he gathered they too had perhaps made camp on the periphery throughout the lands so that they may arrive at the proper time of the invitation. The second suitor, a Prozdy warrior of immense size, heralded his arrival with the battering of metal which indeed caught Erick's attention, it was not a noise he was unaccustomed to, in fact, quite the contrary. When the figure of Vyarin emerged into the spaces of the palace, the Jörda prince surveyed him with discretion; each and every man would surely be looking to secure their hold on Astalia by means of the eldest daughter as Erick too, had been advised. He wondered if she, in her particular misfortune, would at least have any say to whom she was to be wed. The third prince, an elf, lean but too appeared to be well trained, moved with the grace and aura that the people of his realm seemed to do so. The elven prince acknowledged him, and Erick had blinked and dipped his head slightly in due response. The final prince, for there were four daughters of King Harold, was the half-orc prince of Afdan, the desert country at the far-flung reaches of the continent, the climate far different from that of Jörda. The Afdan prince had a handsome appearance, his heavy orcish features somewhat subdued by what Erick assumed was human blood, his demeanour seemed fairer too than what the reputations spoke of the orcish race. Erick it seemed, standing only at an average height for his people, was the shortest in stature amongst the princes; it didn't faze him however, and he held his space just as the other suitors. The group of princes, now assembled, were ushered into the main hall where the Astalian King was prepared to greet them, the princesses were also waiting for their arrival. A smaller division of Erick's entourage had followed with him into the hall, each of them knelt to one knee and bowed their heads to the King, not dissimilar but certainly different from the Prozdy gesture, Erick uttered a bold "Your Grace" before they once again arose. Erick understood the Astalian language fairly well, for they were neighbours across the great river, but he spoke with a thick accent of his native tongue. The Jörda prince regarded the King's greeting in his own language to be an expression of deep respect, despite the slight falter in pronunciations. King Harold went on to describe the events that were to occur and confirmed his daughters would indeed take a suitor of their choosing, or at least, within the constraints of what little choice there was. Erick feared given the arrangement, that his spouse regardless would have little association with him outside the scope of the marriage contract; would they be the kind of woman, wives that would make themselves scarce save for their nuptial duties, as perhaps their culture and their kingdom demanded? He could think of almost nothing more miserable. He examined the daughters each in turn as they were introduced, all very beautiful in their own way, and noted that Annalise was the eldest. As the King concluded his speech, giving the guests permission to disperse (this admittedly was a great desire Erick had to resist), one of the daughters stepped forward to speak before addressing each of the princes in turn. She was small and particularly slender with dark features, despite her small frame, her voice and demeanour had a presence that would not be ignored. Erick wasn't sure how to describe it, besides the creeping feeling of a bad dream that you couldn't quite remember once you awoke. When Sulhana spoke to him directly however, he could detect the sincerity in her condolences and he received her remarks with appreciation, "thank you for your kind words Princess Sulhana, my brother has brought great honour to our House, he will dine well with the Gods at their table" he expressed, suppressing the flicker that threatened to cross his brow, as such he could not muster a smile for the princess, but tightened his jaw and nodded gently before she turned to take the platform. The Princess made her announcement - Erick would have some Court games to play it seemed. Another daughter, Loreena, stepped forward. Erick sensed a gentleness in her character and, as she presented the thoughtful gifts to each suitor in turn, also some enthusiasm in meeting with them. He received the gift from her with both palms, meeting her gaze, "Princess Loreena, you have my gratitude, I already feel most welcomed" he bowed his head modestly clasping the gift but not yet examining it, as he was not sure if it was quite appropriate to do so. As the Princess moved on, he passed the item with particular care to one of his attendants for safe keeping - he would open it later that evening.</s>
<\|description\|>Erick Appearance: Height: 5'9, medium lean and muscular build. Complexion: Fair, evidence - small nicks and scars - of his experience in combat. Dark blonde hair clipped to a French crop. Hazel eyes. Facial hair generally well kept and short. Attire: Everyday clothes are usually understated, plain linen; a long-sleeve belted tunic, trousers with leg wraps and leather shoes or low cut boot, leather bracers, fit for sparring or riding. Court clothes would include an embroidered quilted tunic (belted) dyed in a deep red or blue over a shirt, and appropriately matching trousers and tall leather boots, a dense fur-trimmed cloak is worn across one shoulder closed together with a heavy silver ouroboros broach, and some articles of jewellery; necklaces and rings. Age: 21 Bio: Erick is the middle child of King Henrick, who rules the northern Kingdom of Jörda. The fringes of the country begin at the other side of the river that cuts through Sahas, they have hard borders up against several Gilthan states in the far north and west, meaning the Kingdom has been involved in conflicts for some time to push back Gilthan advance. Fortunately, much of the northern terrain is hilly and mountainous and larger settlements in Jörda are heavily fortified, King Henrick however fears these advantages will not be sufficient to halt enemy advances indefinitely, and has therefore decided that an alliance with Astalia will be necessary in the preservation of the sovereignty of Jörda. Jörda has fertile land centrally and south towards the river, highly self sufficient in growing crops for textiles and food, it's people, whom are predominantly human, are also skilled boat builders; they make use of the river for freshwater fishing as well as occasional access to the Eastern sea where settlements aren't near the coast. The mountainous regions are rich in ores and some precious metals, consequently, Jörda produces some of the hardest metal weaponry. Jörda traders abroad may be seen with wares such as animal pelts, textiles, and fine crafted weapons and jewellery. Erick's older brother Andor, whom was the eldest of the three children, was killed some months ago in a bloody battle at the northern front, from which Erick has returned after completing his brother's work. He is a skilled swordsman, equestrian and archer. There has been little time for Erick to pursue other interests outside the scope of warfare, as the country is embroiled in perpetual conflict, and he has been tasked with defending the people of Jörda.</s> <\|message\|>Vyarin Kremazov Finding this 'Court of Flowers' was easier in Vyarin's mind than it was quickly turning out to be. The palace was tall, imposing even on the inside, intricately decorated down to the smallest corner. In his lone eye, the world within seemed stretched upwards uncannily, like cowhide in a tannery. Windows stood the height of two of himself, but barely the width of three-quarters himself, packed closely together in organized regiments one after the other. The effect was exacerbated by the figure of the doorways that line the halls and the various items of furnishing and decoration, all built conversely too small for him. He had to duck down to enter into giant spaces. It was a fever dream to navigate, like something out of the maddest stories his carers would tell to him. In the end, Vyarin decided the best path forward was tried and true methodology. It was simple, once he thought back on it. He will simply start entering doors and offshoots until he reached the Court of Flowers. There were only so many places a courtyard fit for a party could be; he will doubtless stumble onto it long before it ended. So, alone and armed with his conviction, he began his search . . . and immediately rammed headlong into a particularly thin candle sconce. Rubbing his temple and glowering, he righted the object, looking around for any sign of disturbed castellans, which there fortunately were none. He will keep a hand to the wall at all times. Path after path, road after road, a few minutes began to stretch to near the majority of an hour. Most of the rooms he came across were as strange themselves as devoid of flowers. Some were bare of all things, blocked off by a simplistic looking door, awaiting a renovation that may take centuries to come. Others were perhaps bedchambers, but so clean that it was most like prepared for some guest that will never arrive, as evidenced by the thin sheen of dust upon the desks and sheets. Good luck was on Vyarin's side, for he did not stumble upon any spaces already occupied, and quite unfriendly to his sudden intrusion. Yet, as his ears picked up the faint sounds of some commotion, he concluded that was not to be for long. Instinctively, he felt relieved at the presence of a resident of some sort. He could ask their guide towards this elusive Court. Then, he stopped short, realizing the fault in that reasoning. It would entail him having to communicate his own desire, as well as understand their response all in Astalian. Holding a hand to his forehead, he rehearsed some crude phrases to himself. "Excuse . . . where . . . the Chamber of the . . . the Primrose? The Chamber of the Primrose . . . is . . . to be? Excuse, where the Chamber of the Primrose . . . is to be . . ." He nodded, and raised himself to full height, striding purposefully in. He didn't know what to expect from this next room, but that was not it. A lone girl, one of the four daughters in fact, armed with a sword far larger than his own, dancing about and striking at invisible foes. Vyarin could only watch for a few moments, observing the movements closely. They were precise, swift, she is obviously familiar with their use. Was it their way, in this strange land, to arm and train women as one would do for the men? "Excuse," he finally said, breaking the silence. He pointed to the sword, the one so great it must be wielded in two hands. "Apology. Is . . . interest. Very interest." A heavy silence fell on the room, absent of the clatter of shoes on polished wood.</s> <\|message\|>Jinayah Altera At footsteps, Jinayah grumbled very faintly. She had her back turned and was still midswing, thinking it was one of her sisters coming to collect her. "Yes, I'm going to the party in just a moment, let me finish this." Of course she had said that to herself nearly 20 minutes back, and again at 10 minutes. But the voice that spoke out was definitely none of her sisters, neither was it her father or any of the other knights she knew by name. Ever so slowly, she turned around, finally seeing Prince Vyarin darkening the doorway. "Ah." Carefully, she sheathed the practice blade and stared just a bit at him. What to say? She imagined he had a thousand questions, the first of which was likely why a woman was allowed a blade in the first place. "He- hello Prince Vyarin." She dipped a low curtsy, the tip of the scabbard at her back nearly brushing the ground. "Er, I suppose you're wondering what I'm doing out here instead of at the party." Was she imagining that shocked gaze? He looked so blank she wasn't sure what to do. "M-my father has permitted me the use of the sword since I was of age to start squire training. If you wish to know what was behind that decision, please feel free to ask him." The sword, despite it not being hers, gave her courage. Her carefully coifed hair was in disarray, and there was dust on the edges of her pink gown. But she was still of the royal family and would command herself as such. "If you wish to know why I wanted to learn anyway, well, look around you. The Empire creeps insidious into our back rooms, taking what they will from our people. I will not sit by and do needlepoint while my world is taken from me. I have no kingdom to inherit, no magic, no spies. By Gods, if all I have is a blade and my body, that will be enough." "Father may see me as a piece on a board and that's just fine. But I aim to be the Steel Dragoon, if I'm to be a piece at all." In the game of war, the Steel Dragoon was a most sought after piece to get onto the board. It could capture and remove adjacent pieces, sometimes drastically changing the flow of the game in its wake. "No man, not even you, will keep me from this ambition." Her piece said, she waited with head held high for the outrage. Instead, she just found confusion on the Prince's face. Only then did she remember the translator from earlier. "Oh no. You didn't understand a word of that, did you?" She smiled in a truly embarrassed way and shook her head, her cheeks burning. What to say now? Slowly, she put the sword back in the rack with its brothers, and took a moment to collect herself. "Good evening, Prince Vyarin." She said in careful Prodzy. She had practiced these phrases for a solid month, but they were slipping from her mind as she spoke. "It is… an evening of beauty, no? What is your… preference - no, purpose! What is your purpose?"</s>	<\|message\|>Erick The constellation of Aldask hung in the sky above the courtyard, Erick was confident this was a good omen. As one story went, Aldask, the most ancient and powerful of the Gods, often concealed himself as a stag in the realm of the mortal creatures. One day a human happened upon him, he notched an arrow in his hunting bow and let it fly, strong and true it plunged into the chest of the deer-God. As the arrow struck, the figure of the stag shattered into many large, shining shards which slashed deep wounds through the skin of the hunter, miraculously he survived but his sight was taken by the blinding light of Aldask; the human had only a few moments to witness this splendour, as the God's earthly shell shattered. The hunter somehow stumbled home and told the experience to his kinsfolk which quickly spread throughout his fellow countrymen. It was agreed that from that day forth, a prayer must be uttered to Aldask before striking a deer, bow or otherwise, so the God may grant them exception to their mistake. In many areas of Jörda, this story was often interpreted to extend to any and every kind of animal. The Court of Flowers appeared almost as if timelessness itself may reside here, where the Gods retired to recite their ballads. As the glow of the sun began to wane, the moon cast its cold and mysterious light in the darker places the torches did not reach, mánibjart as this was called, where the lunar luminance gave for a short time divine and unpredictable power to the spaces otherwise enveloped in darkness, and sometimes, provided a gateway through which to glimpse the other worlds. The old magic was ingrained deeply into the people of Jörda, through tales and stories of the old Gods, but the true knowledge of it had been lost through time as the progress of man - of whom very few knew how to wield such power - dominated the natural and previously wild spaces of their land, and so it faded into myth and legend. Fear, reverence and yet acceptance, of this unpredictable magic, that presented a divide the thickness of a single thread between life and death, decay and rebirth - the domain in which Aldask conducted the fates of all within the mortal realm, remained strong however. There were only four of them who had yet attended the courtyard, The Princesses Sulhana and the eldest, Annalise seemed to watch them approach from the platform with a collection of silent instruments. Erick had caught up to the Prince Gil, who had dipped his head in greeting the Princesses from a short distance, the Jörda prince addressed him in Orcish, "my friend, strength is upon you" he stated, extending his hand as such that may lock their arms in the way of the Orcish warriors, he met the bright blue eyes of the half-orc with his own of deep hazel. Erick was not fluent in the Orcish language, but was familiar with a few words, statements and greetings (although he wasn't sure if the dialect was quite the same) from the warriors amongst the ranks of Jörda's military - how they came to be there however, was a subject of particular tension between the two nations and was a matter of on-going diplomatic effort. Although Erick's greeting may have been received with some distrust, the Afdan prince responded in kind before they turned their attention to the Princess Sulhana who had stepped forward with her sister to welcome them. Erick approached and he bowed to the Princesses in a similar display; yet his eyes did not avert meeting with their own each of them in turn, "Princesses" he stated in acknowledgement. The Princess Annalise was quiet, reserved, and seemed to allow her younger sister to take the lead, the Princess Sulhana was not unlike someone else he knew - bold, forthcoming…challenging? There was an underlying tone in her voice and gestures that seemed to imply that sometimes, oftentimes, her thoughts and words were misaligned, much like his little sister - a formidable foe…or ally perhaps, yet given their gender this usually was expressed in a far more subtle yet no less unsettling manner. Sulhana's green eyes burned into him, examining, scrutinising in fine detail - he'd seen it before, her words were lighthearted however, she laughed and winked alluring them to her playful challenge. Perhaps she'd like to see them try? Disarm them? Erick knew he'd have to tread carefully, inhibition and.. sense was quite easily lost in this way. "Princess Sulhana, Annalise, please, I would like it that I might drink as the people of Astalia do drink" he pulled a small grin, he would like a drink if nothing less for something simply to hold and channel his nerves should they falter, for he did not have the pommel of his sword to absorb this energy from him, as such he made do with gently gripping a part of his cloak as though it was meant to be gathered, whilst the other palm was folded gently but produced his gestures as he spoke, otherwise he could not help but thumb the heavy rings on his fingers, which he mostly refrained from doing.</s>
<\|description\|>Vyarin Kremazov appearance: Tall and incredibly built, Vyarin is the model of a warrior. Indeed, his form is the sort that would take up an entire doorway he would happen to pass through. In accordance with the religious reforms of half a century past, he keeps his blond hair shaved down to fuzz. His face is similarly shaved. However, most notable about him is the rag that obscures his left eye, wrapped around his head, that conceals the gaping remains of his eye. age: 19 bio: Vyarin was born to a most impressive pedigree. His father, the famed Zarrir "Usurper-of-Tyrants", had recently before Vyarin's birth led a successful rebellion against the so-called "Western Overlords" from across the Zpina mountain range. The Western Overlords' memory has been intentionally lost, with Zarrir having ordered all record of them destroyed and declaring that any who speak of them in his court have their tongues cut out. Thus, Vyarin's birth, coinciding rather neatly with the liberation, was considered highly auspicious by many. His name, "Vyarin", even means "of freedom" or "freeborn" in the now-dead Old Prozdy language. On his birth, Vyarin was given the courtesy titles of "Prince of Princes" (a title shared by his father), and "First Lord of the League". The League of which the second title represents is the nominally equal partnership of the great many rulers and nobles who had risen up alongside Prozdy against the Western Overlords, but in reality serve as effective vassals to Prozdy. Vyarin grew up among the militant court of his father. In the Prozdy culture, strength and stoicism were the highest virtues, and nobles who shied away from military pursuits were considered illegitimate to rule. Thus, Vyarin was given a rigorous education in fighting with a great variety of weapons, strategy and tactics, and a number of traditional sports. Thus, he grew up strong, accustomed to physical strain and resistant to the fear of death. At least, that was the visage he put on for the court to see. In truth, he found he tired often of the singleminded pursuit of conflict and victory that Prozdy society seemed to worship, and found he was rather curious regarding a great many subjects not taught to him. However, there wasn't much to be done about that. His father Zarrir was an iron-fisted ruler, grim and incredibly competent, and would likely stand for no deviation on his son's part. It was on Vyarin's coming-of-age day that his life changed rather oddly. During the celebrations, one of the princes of the League inadvertently insulted Vyarin before all the attendees. Zarrir, in a fit of rage, demanded that Vyarin and the prince duel with shashka to the death before the entire crowd. Neither were particularly interested in fighting this duel, and the prince offered to apologize, Zarrir's command was absolute, declaring that should either refuse this duel, they would be declared cowards and stripped of all honours. Eventually, after some heavy debate, a compromise was declared in which the two would fight only to first blood. The duel commenced, and ended when Vyarin fell forward, screaming and clutching at the left side of his face. Quickly, doctors were called, but the surgery was brutal, and perhaps did more damage to his eye than even the blade. Eventually, it was declared that Vyarin was blind in one eye. Zarrir, fearing for his son's life and his own court's stability, sent Vyarin away on the premise that he find a spouse. role in the story: Prince and suitor</s> <\|message\|>Gil Jalal --- --- "On the contrary, dear sister. He must prove he can hold his liquor." Annalise remarked to Lore as her sister entered the courtyard. There was a gentle smile on her face as Annalise removed the annoying half veil from her hair. Finally the slight discoloration of her right eye was no longer hidden. She silently hoped the setting sun would hide this from the suitors just a little longer, but it was a nice test. Their reaction to the realization that she did not have vision in her eye would tell her a lot about them. Finally she fully acknowledged the man who she had realized had moved closer to her asking if she drank like her sister. "I do indeed drink, though I would say Sulhana can, and does, outdrink me on the regular. But don't let that discourage you. What do you say Prince Erick, Lore, care to insert ourselves into Sulhana and Prince Gil's competition? Or Maybe we have our own competition." She raised her eyebrow and then turned to Uriah who she had seen shuffle to the side with the rest of the staff. "You wouldn't mind if Lore missed out on a day of training due to a hangover would you? Also not telling our father would be much appreciated." She smiled softly at the man who, had she had any magical talent, would have been her teacher. She had no doubt that the man would at least not tell their father about anything that happened here tonight. At least not anything as harmless as a drinking contest. \| \| \| \| ______________________________________ \| \| --- Gil couldn't help the stupid smile on his face when Sulhana asked if it was too late for him to pull his punches. "I do believe it was you who extended this challenge so I have no intention of going easy on you. Treat you as an equal I shall." He watched the princess move toward him with two glasses, one he assumed was for him and one for herself. He did his best not to run his eyes across her body. She was beautiful for sure, but he was still trying to be respectful. That was until she proposed a wager. His eyebrow raised as he listened to her speak. She knew what she was doing. He reached for the glass but it was quickly moved away from him and the contents consumed by the woman in front of him. "You have yourself a deal Princess." He wasn't going to tell her he would answer any questions she had about his culture without the wager. It was more fun this way. He wasn't sure her true game, and if he were honest, he didn't care. He had spent weeks traveling with nobody but Sioban and Aldar, only one of which was any sort of fun. "If I win you have to tell me what you really feel about all of…this." He motioned to the group that was already there, sure she would understand his meaning. She seemed to be an intelligent individual. He watched the woman as she turned and motioned him to follow, inviting him for a walk. He let out a little chuckle as he quickly poured himself not one but two drinks and quickly downed them. "Now we are even." He said as he stood to his full height and followed behind her. It was silent for a moment until she remarked about what she could give to fly. "I have only flown once. Though it was a cruel joke pulled on me by Sioban, the Shaman that traveled with me." He looked up at the stars with a small glimmer in his blue eyes. "At first there was fear, as my body left the sturdy familiarity of the ground. Then, even though I didn't get very high up before my brothers and Aldar made him put me down, pure joy. I was a small child when this happened, but I remember it like it was yesterday." He sighed, a weight now sitting on his shoulders, realizing that he would never feel that freedom again. Not after marrying one of the Princesses. He would have a duty, at the very least to his family, old and new. He hadn't realized the smile he wore had faded slightly at this realization. After a moment he shook his head a little, attention going back to the green eyed woman he now stood beside. Gil nervously scratched the back of his neck. Which pulled his collar down just enough to reveal the top of the black markings that covered part of his upper body. Tattoos he had recently gotten to decorate his body. "We seem to be missing your youngest sister, the Elven Prince and the Prozdy Prince, yes? I hope they didn't get lost. I know I almost did while I was exploring." He leaned on the stone railing, effectively bringing his eyes to her level. He didn't want to look down at her, nor did he feel right to make her look up to him. Putting them on the same level seemed the most respectful thing he could do. And seeing as the only way to do that was to either pick her up, or he slump, he opted to slump.</s> <\|message\|>Jinayah Altera "The sword?" Jin searched her mind for a suitable word in Prodzy, but she was coming up empty. Did the word not exist, or had she just forgotten? "Longsword." She finally said in Astalian. Switching back to Prodzy, she approached Vyarin carefully. After all, he did have a blade in his hand that he didn't know how to use. Sir Arnold had always beat it into their heads that an untrained novice was sometimes more dangerous than a trained professional. You had no idea what they could do. "Please to excuse." She gently gripped his hands and adjusted them on the hilt. "Better now." As far as she had read, Prodzy had plenty of weapons. So why was this one so curious to him? She would have to get with her sisters and ask them to translate better. Speaking of sisters – "Ah, wait! The Court of Flowers is waiting on us!" She looked down at herself. There was a bit of a mess on the very edges of her gown, but there was no time to change into another. Sighing softly and trying to rearrange her hair, she nodded to Vyarin. Briefly in Prodzy, she explained. "Come, follow!" Then she headed back inside, making sure Vyarin was somewhat behind her. With her short legs and his long ones, he could easily catch up. She led the way to the Court of Flowers, and paused once more before entering the area proper. There were going to be looks, she knew. But if they were to be her new brothers, and one a husband, they'd find out eventually. Best to discuss her proclivities on her own terms. Striding in with squared shoulders, Jin smiled warmly at all present. "Sorry I'm late. But I found one lost prince!" Seeing wine glasses already tabled (and some empty), she picked one up and took a sip. It was stronger than any they'd let her have before. Only a few years ago, they had been watering down her wine with meals. Was she suddenly such an adult now? Seeing Sulhana with that mischievous cat look on her face, and Annalise nearby, she went to Loreena instead. "Hi Lore. Having fun yet?" She curtsied briefly to Uriah as well. He wasn't royal, but his status garnered a lot of respect in her eyes. "I got… a little sidetracked. Do you think it'll be too noticeable?"</s>	<\|message\|>Vyarin Kremazov The Court of Flowers was well named, Vyarin thought, as he lumbered into the moderately sized meeting hall, adorned with flowers hanging from baskets all along the walls and peeking up from long vases an entire two thirds his own height. Heads of red and gold, violet, white, even pale blue clear as the sky bowed in solemnity as the shamans do. If they had arms, perhaps they would be raised above their heads as well, until the lack of blood left them white and hard as the branches of trees. Perhaps these flowers as well were of a mystical nature? Many things were in this land of the southeast, far from the natural ebbing of the spirits. They weave the world with their 'sorcery', raising large works of stone tall as mountains such as the building within which he stood right now. Recalling his amazement as he passed under the gates, he recalled how the entire estate seemed to grow out of the ground. What a marvel it was! He imagined taking some of this sorcery home with him, and transforming the entire cityscape with its power. Would they remember him as Vyarin 'the Magnificent' for his effort? The others had arrived first, sharing conversation amongst themselves sat about a table. Golden chalices were displayed in some of their hands, filled with a dark liquid that looked unlike any juice he had ever had or seen. Some turned to meet his new, sprightlier acquaintance as she bounded in, which inevitably led their gaze towards himself. Whether they were looking or not, Vyarin gave a small and curt nod to the six others, then ambled over to a corner of the table and swiped one of the chalices, lifting the contents to his nose and sniffing. That's when he realized what it was. It was forbidden, he knew. The shamans said again and again, for as long as he could hear them. That which is rotted has been given to the spirits, and is beyond its time for the world of men. This was Essence of the Rotted Grape! He could have stumbled at the noxious odour. Did they not realize that by its imbibing they become cursed? Surely they must know better, he thought, glancing at the faces of these merrymakers. Mayhaps it would not be so bad, that they would enjoy it and fear naught. Things were different here, after all, in these lands of magic and mystery. If he were to one day take charge of their armies, he must then learn to live as they live, and if that meant drinking this product of rot, then he could do so without too much concern. The spirits would understand, he concluded, as he lifted the chalice again to his lips and sipped of the fluid. It was a mistake, in the end. Gasping and reeling, he sat the cup down with a too-loud clang. It tasted as foul as it smelled, too bitter and thick and somehow wrong on a level fundamental to his soul. He felt dirty, the dregs that remain swilling under his tongue. He leaned on the wall, whispering curses the sky in Prozdy, hoping nobody paid too much mind to his outburst.</s>
<\|description\|>Vyarin Kremazov appearance: Tall and incredibly built, Vyarin is the model of a warrior. Indeed, his form is the sort that would take up an entire doorway he would happen to pass through. In accordance with the religious reforms of half a century past, he keeps his blond hair shaved down to fuzz. His face is similarly shaved. However, most notable about him is the rag that obscures his left eye, wrapped around his head, that conceals the gaping remains of his eye. age: 19 bio: Vyarin was born to a most impressive pedigree. His father, the famed Zarrir "Usurper-of-Tyrants", had recently before Vyarin's birth led a successful rebellion against the so-called "Western Overlords" from across the Zpina mountain range. The Western Overlords' memory has been intentionally lost, with Zarrir having ordered all record of them destroyed and declaring that any who speak of them in his court have their tongues cut out. Thus, Vyarin's birth, coinciding rather neatly with the liberation, was considered highly auspicious by many. His name, "Vyarin", even means "of freedom" or "freeborn" in the now-dead Old Prozdy language. On his birth, Vyarin was given the courtesy titles of "Prince of Princes" (a title shared by his father), and "First Lord of the League". The League of which the second title represents is the nominally equal partnership of the great many rulers and nobles who had risen up alongside Prozdy against the Western Overlords, but in reality serve as effective vassals to Prozdy. Vyarin grew up among the militant court of his father. In the Prozdy culture, strength and stoicism were the highest virtues, and nobles who shied away from military pursuits were considered illegitimate to rule. Thus, Vyarin was given a rigorous education in fighting with a great variety of weapons, strategy and tactics, and a number of traditional sports. Thus, he grew up strong, accustomed to physical strain and resistant to the fear of death. At least, that was the visage he put on for the court to see. In truth, he found he tired often of the singleminded pursuit of conflict and victory that Prozdy society seemed to worship, and found he was rather curious regarding a great many subjects not taught to him. However, there wasn't much to be done about that. His father Zarrir was an iron-fisted ruler, grim and incredibly competent, and would likely stand for no deviation on his son's part. It was on Vyarin's coming-of-age day that his life changed rather oddly. During the celebrations, one of the princes of the League inadvertently insulted Vyarin before all the attendees. Zarrir, in a fit of rage, demanded that Vyarin and the prince duel with shashka to the death before the entire crowd. Neither were particularly interested in fighting this duel, and the prince offered to apologize, Zarrir's command was absolute, declaring that should either refuse this duel, they would be declared cowards and stripped of all honours. Eventually, after some heavy debate, a compromise was declared in which the two would fight only to first blood. The duel commenced, and ended when Vyarin fell forward, screaming and clutching at the left side of his face. Quickly, doctors were called, but the surgery was brutal, and perhaps did more damage to his eye than even the blade. Eventually, it was declared that Vyarin was blind in one eye. Zarrir, fearing for his son's life and his own court's stability, sent Vyarin away on the premise that he find a spouse. role in the story: Prince and suitor</s> <\|message\|>Jinayah Altera Jin relaxed considerably as Lore adjusted her hairstyle. Her sister's touch was very warm and soothing. It was so much nicer than when her ladies in waiting did it. They always made the bun too tight. "Much better, Lore. Thank you." She smiled widely and took a delicate sip of the wine. It was delicious, and quite powerful, and had a different scent entirely than what they usually had with dinner. Sulhana was always good at choosing that kind of thing. "A drinking contest, hm? I suppose I will join. Consider this my entry." While she had grown used to the nonalcoholic cider in the silver cups, today was apparently the day she became an adult. She took another careful sip of the wine and watched as Vyarin sputtered over his. What was that about? Was he going to be alright? Lore was already on it, so she turned her attention to Hana as she approached. "I wouldn't have run away. Not from this. I'm supposed to be the bravest of all of us, aren't I? So here I am." She chuckled as she was engulfed in a hug. There had always been a bit of the dramatic in Hana, spymaster or not. She had always been the one to make up stories as children. Her speaking of governesses and new-dress days with four less than earnest young ladies brought a sparkle to her eyes and a grin to her face. It had been simpler, yes. Much simpler. Jin actually lost composure and blushed when Sulhana mentioned the armor she had received. But she was surprised at her elder sister's advice. "You think I should have? Perhaps. Then the men would know what they're really working with, instead of… this." Sometimes the fancy gowns felt like lying. She approached Prince Gil, swept a curtsy and smiled. Before they could really get to talk, however, Hana announced that dinner was on the table. Despite her earlier nerves, the head-clearing workout from earlier had made her rather hungry now. It would be good to sit and eat.</s> <\|message\|>Gil Jalal --- --- Annalise's attention remained on Uriah as he spoke, basically confirming what she already knew. She smiled at the mage, giving him a nod before turning her attention back to her sister and Prince Erick who had started talking about Lore's gift to the man. The eldest daughter knew that of the four of them it was Lore who was far more interested in this deal than the rest of them. From what she had seen she was the most invested out of all the nobles gathered. Anna smiled at her sister as she spoke about the jewel gifted to the Prince beside her. Even she didn't know the little tidbit that her sister shared. When it came to magic most of it went over her head. As she was musing to herself in her head Jin entered the courtyard followed closely by the Prozdy prince. She was not surprised by her youngest sister's disheveled appearance. It was not the first time she had been late to an event in favor of her blades, and it certainly would not be the last. She was about to move toward Jin but Lore beat her to the punch. Ever the caring one she took to fixing Jin's hair and fussing over their younger sister. She did however chime in when Lore blamed her for the drinking competition. "Actually that was more Hana, and Prince Gil's decision. I was simply here and thought it sounded fun." She knew Lore and Jin were not the drinkers that Hana and herself were. Father often insisted that none of them partake in the wine or if they did that it be watered down, however, Hana was always rebellious, and Annalise had taken to drinking to prove that she was no different than any of the male members of the court. Not that it helped, she was still constantly fighting to be heard even though the country would be hers very soon. Her mind wandered to the suitors, and who of them would allow her to rule her country, who would stay out of her way. Gil, the third Prince who Hana had gathered had no interest in a position of power such as the ruler of a country seemed a good option. He however had carefully avoided talking to her since he had arrived at the courtyard. She was sure that in Gil's eyes, she was his last choice. She knew nothing of the elven Prince who had yet to arrive at the courtyard so she couldn't make any assumptions on him at this point. Erick seemed polite enough and he might be content to command Astalia's armies and remain out of the finer aspects of ruling the country. Though again, this was only speculation. Lastly was Prince Vyarin who was also more or less a wild card. She was sure that if she wanted to be underhanded about it she could use his limited knowledge of her language to her advantage for a while. She wasn't that manipulative though. She shook the thought out of her head as Hana approached them with Gil on her heels. At the mention of food her stomach growled, she hadn't had much to eat today, the nerves had gotten the better of her so any food in her system would be extremely welcomed at this point. She had almost missed what Erick had asked her, lost in her own thoughts. "Hm?" Was all that escaped her lips before her brain fully registered what he had said. She moved to take a seat across from him rather than directly beside him. It was a deliberate action, keeping openings for the other Princes to attempt to make a move, while still remaining close enough to Erick to still interact with him. She waited until Hana finished speaking to reply to his earlier statement and question. "Unfair you say? On whose side, mine or yours?" She cocked her eyebrow at him as her good eye looked directly into his, a very small smirk playing at her lip. "As for how I would test you, well that is simple, we must each finish the same amount of drinks by the end of the night, whoever holds their alcohol better is the winner. In other words, whoever is less drunk." She emphasized her point by finishing her own glass to make them equal. "If I win…" She paused to think. There were two ways she could do this, the light hearted way or more serious. After a moment she chose the more light hearted option. As much as she wanted to let him know that her country came first, now was not the time. "If I win, you have to tell me an embarrassing story from your childhood. And since we are declaring Price Vyarin the judge he will have final say on who is the winner. Of course you get to name your prize as well, within reason of course." The smirk was now prominent on her face as she carefully ate a bit of the food that was put in front of her, her stomach instantly reacting to finally being fed. Her attention moved to the entryway as the final member of this elaborate political game joined them. "Ah Prince Alvaro, happy you could join us. We were just about to eat, please, feel free to join us. Also if you are interested, we have some drinking games in place if you would like to partake." She motioned to the food and drink on the tables and also to the free seats. \| \| \| \| ______________________________________ \| \| --- Gil watched Sulhana as she spoke. He was about to respond when the youngest Princess and the Prozdy Prince entered the courtyard. His eyes traced over the pair. The large male appeared more than out of his element and the smaller female clearly disheveled. His curiosity peaked at the two of them. What exactly had they been doing beforehand? He didn't assume anything promiscuous but still, he wondered. He couldn't help but let out a chuckle when Sulhana mentioned him falling for her already. Though he didn't get a chance to respond before she was off to greet her sister finishing off her drink as she did so. He too finished his drink, not wanting her to get ahead of him and followed her. He did his best not to listen in on the conversation Sulhana had with her sister so instead he wandered off a bit to get himself another drink, returning just as Sulhana moved away to make a speech before offering food. He opened his mouth to greet Jin just as she started talking and closed it to allow her to speak. At the mention of food his stomach growled, realizing he had not eaten since before his arrival to the castle. He decided it was as good a time as any to get seated and get some food in his system, especially if he was going to be drinking heavily. He walked over to the table and pulled out a seat, offering it to Jin, more out of habit than anything else. "I could use some food, how about you?" He questioned the Princess politely. "Besides, if we are going to be drinking we should probably make sure we aren't doing so on an empty stomach." He smiled as he took his own seat, child-like excitement to eat some food, and hopefully taste some Astalian dishes. He hadn't even noticed the Elven Prince enter as he seated himself.</s>	<\|message\|>Vyarin Kremazov Vyarin gratefully takes one of the silver cups, looking down into the well to see for himself. This did not look particularly different from the profaned drink of the gold cup, but an experimental sip told him that it was well and safe enough. Opposed to the chokingly bitter sample before, this was mild, sweet but with a spicy aftertaste. How did they manage that, he wondered? Did they crush apples into a chalice, and sprinkle in a dash of ground peppers? What an amazing culinary tradition this land of Astalia kept. His mind came alive with the most absurd things being served on a platter. Goat's livers covered in honey? Fresh honeygrass mixed in with fried horseflies? Entire frogs, stuffed full with stalks of raw grain? He was certainly willing to give them a try. "Let us go forth to glory," he sarcastically muttered in Prozdy, finally building up the courage to take a full swig from the spiced drink. It was a common phrase spoken before the consumption of a dinner. No man of the League would dare speak in the night preceding a battle. The various principalities that dotted the land were all unique in their own customs, but they all shared that much. The drink was strong with spice, so much so that he could feel particles of it scratch at his throat as it went down. It was powerful and uplifting, like the drink was made of fire, like it could fill him up with a fire's fury and he could raise fortresses with his own hands. Only guiltily afterwards did he realize he had taken the entire chalice in a single gulp, and was greedily eyeing another one. How unseemly of him, he thought to himself, pulling out a chair and joining the other heirlings as they gathered about the table, servants already melting away as they left behind them plates of resplendent, though disappointingly mundane-looking food. The other seven chatted eagerly amongst themselves, all they who were fluent in Astalian. Vyarin felt a frustration bordering on anger bubble up inside him. So long as he sat here, he was deaf in all the ways that matter. He imagined it to be not much different from wading into battle missing an arm. Perhaps he could pick up a word that appeared frequently enough. 'Wine, wine,' they said. That Astalian word appeared frequently, but he could not even begin to wonder what it could translate to. Was it marriage? That was their purpose coming here, after all. Perhaps they were speaking of arranging matches between themselves. Was it war? There are hushed mentions of a brewing war, greater than any skirmish between princes Vyarin would ever have seen, between this land and the great northern realm. He could not see any sign of worry on any other faces; they are mighty and stoic, these fellow heirlings, brave in the face of threat. What could this 'wine' possibly be?</s>
<\|description\|>Vyarin Kremazov appearance: Tall and incredibly built, Vyarin is the model of a warrior. Indeed, his form is the sort that would take up an entire doorway he would happen to pass through. In accordance with the religious reforms of half a century past, he keeps his blond hair shaved down to fuzz. His face is similarly shaved. However, most notable about him is the rag that obscures his left eye, wrapped around his head, that conceals the gaping remains of his eye. age: 19 bio: Vyarin was born to a most impressive pedigree. His father, the famed Zarrir "Usurper-of-Tyrants", had recently before Vyarin's birth led a successful rebellion against the so-called "Western Overlords" from across the Zpina mountain range. The Western Overlords' memory has been intentionally lost, with Zarrir having ordered all record of them destroyed and declaring that any who speak of them in his court have their tongues cut out. Thus, Vyarin's birth, coinciding rather neatly with the liberation, was considered highly auspicious by many. His name, "Vyarin", even means "of freedom" or "freeborn" in the now-dead Old Prozdy language. On his birth, Vyarin was given the courtesy titles of "Prince of Princes" (a title shared by his father), and "First Lord of the League". The League of which the second title represents is the nominally equal partnership of the great many rulers and nobles who had risen up alongside Prozdy against the Western Overlords, but in reality serve as effective vassals to Prozdy. Vyarin grew up among the militant court of his father. In the Prozdy culture, strength and stoicism were the highest virtues, and nobles who shied away from military pursuits were considered illegitimate to rule. Thus, Vyarin was given a rigorous education in fighting with a great variety of weapons, strategy and tactics, and a number of traditional sports. Thus, he grew up strong, accustomed to physical strain and resistant to the fear of death. At least, that was the visage he put on for the court to see. In truth, he found he tired often of the singleminded pursuit of conflict and victory that Prozdy society seemed to worship, and found he was rather curious regarding a great many subjects not taught to him. However, there wasn't much to be done about that. His father Zarrir was an iron-fisted ruler, grim and incredibly competent, and would likely stand for no deviation on his son's part. It was on Vyarin's coming-of-age day that his life changed rather oddly. During the celebrations, one of the princes of the League inadvertently insulted Vyarin before all the attendees. Zarrir, in a fit of rage, demanded that Vyarin and the prince duel with shashka to the death before the entire crowd. Neither were particularly interested in fighting this duel, and the prince offered to apologize, Zarrir's command was absolute, declaring that should either refuse this duel, they would be declared cowards and stripped of all honours. Eventually, after some heavy debate, a compromise was declared in which the two would fight only to first blood. The duel commenced, and ended when Vyarin fell forward, screaming and clutching at the left side of his face. Quickly, doctors were called, but the surgery was brutal, and perhaps did more damage to his eye than even the blade. Eventually, it was declared that Vyarin was blind in one eye. Zarrir, fearing for his son's life and his own court's stability, sent Vyarin away on the premise that he find a spouse. role in the story: Prince and suitor</s> <\|message\|>Gil Jalal \| \| \| \| ______________________________________ \| \| --- The next morning Gil was woken by Sioban. The Prince groaned and sat up not wanting to be awake just yet. "Wake up sleepy Prince, we got things we need to do today." The upbeat voice of the shaman rang out as Gil rolled his eyes and stood up to stretch the sleep from his limbs. This seemed to please the Shaman who left Gil to prepare for the day. He dressed himself in his most casual outfit. His clothes were nothing special. If one didn't know better he could easily be mistaken for a common member of society. Only those who knew of the significance of his braids, beads, and threads would be able to pick out that he was royalty. He doubted many of the Astalians would notice though. After getting dressed for the day he left his room and found both Sioban and Aldar waiting for him outside his room. "The King has ordered that we remain within the castle grounds without an Astalian guard's company. Something has changed and he clearly wishes to keep it out of the ears of the public for now. I will accompany you for the day." Aldar said bluntly as Gil walked past the two and headed toward the dining hall. It seemed his entourage had other plans as Sioban pulled Gil toward the direction of one of the gardens. "Before you partake in a morning meal, Aldar thinks it is a good idea we take the time to grant you blessings for today. It will only take a moment." Sioban explained as he led the Prince into the garden and toward the small creek that babbled through the back of it. There Gil kneeled beside the water and Sioban began speaking in orcish, requesting that the gods of nature as well as the ancestors look after Gil in his activities for the day. The ceremony was brief but it was long enough that Gil arrived to the dining hall after the eldest Princess had already made her exit and the others seemed close to finishing as well. He gave them all a polite nod and a morning greeting in Orcish as he took a place at the table and took in the options he had to eat. Aldar took a post on the wall behind the Prince but it seemed the Shaman had wandered off to do whatever it was Sioban had found to entertain himself with which didn't surprise the Prince one bit, the Shaman had always been one to do his own thing. "Big day today yea? The Ball and all?" He questioned just to see if he could start some idol chatter while he casually piled his plate high with all the food that could fit. He wouldn't be offended if nobody answered him after all they seemed to be in their own conversations already.</s> <\|message\|>Vyarin Kremazov While the others sitting at the table were occupied in their own conversations, Vyarin began shoving dry little lumps of bread into his pockets. It was a bad habit that he had never quite outgrown; his younger self did at times get into trouble for it. There was nothing that stirred the blood in his hands quite like the backs of them being rapped fiercely by a thin strand of willow, its fibres pulled taut. However, that never seemed to stop him; just make him a better sneak. Besides, one gets used to the sensation. He never regretted not having the occasional nibble of something when he had time to himself, usually sometime between the noon and evening meals. The Astalian bread was so light and airy, it hardly felt like biting into any substance at all. Best to take a few more rolls, just in case. However, his dastardly heist was cut short by the sudden arrival of one of the absent princes, the well-built figure of greenish hue. Vyarin had no way of telling whether the sudden interloper had seen him, and was simply pretending not to say anything to avoid a scene. He dropped the lump in his hand, it landing with a soft pat on the tablecloth. The other prince ambled to the table and joined the diners there, making sudden conversation. Yes, the ball. Just one more battle in this grand campaign. Vyarin nodded along, slowly getting to his feet and hoping his pockets didn't protrude too much that the others thought something off. "Excusing, please," Vyarin said, quiet as he could while still feeling like he could be heard. "I am worrying; I come to here with men. They are of me; I not see all of the night. I go to look; they are not to go away." In his mind, he irked at the half-lie. It was true, he was worried about how his loyal men were faring, but there was far more than that. He made a mental checklist of the tasks ahead. He had to destroy the letter from his father, before any of the local eyes and ears made note of it. He had to find a way to dress up in Astalian manner, to appear at the coming gathering. Most importantly, he had to talk with Annalise the eldest, at least to make his name known in person. He left the dining hall, making proper obeisance to their host the king, but not quite knowing if he appreciated the gesture. There was much to be done indeed.</s> <\|message\|>Jinayah Altera Jinayah smiled warmly at Prince Erick's acceptance of her offer to ride. "Excellent. I'll be ready in about two hours. I will meet you at the stables. Just ask one of the servants to point you the way." When Prince Gil spoke, she turned her head. Her mood dipped just a touch. "Yes, it is a big day. I, for one, hope that you're ready to dance your shoes thin." There was an excitement in her voice that was entirely false. The lie was given away in her eyes. She didn't mind socializing with the Princes in private. They were just boys, after all, and she'd spent her childhood dealing with them while she trained. No, it was the other nobles that would be in attendance. She could very well do without the conniving, backstabbing, constantly calculating courtiers. As Prince Vyarin made his excuses and exited, she too, stood. "Well, I'd best get ready. You enjoy your breakfast. Prince Erick, I will see you soon." - One and a half hours later, she was at the stables. She had switched out the armor for an embroidered tunic and pants, with high riding boots. While she brushed her favorite riding horse, a rose gray mare with an elegantly braided mane and tail, she hummed lightly under her breath. Blossom always liked the humming. Hopefully no one was looking, as she practiced her dancing footwork to her own music.</s> <\|message\|>Gil Jalal --- --- Annalise took the long way to the library, more or less deep in her own thoughts as she walked. There was so much at stake here, her country's future as well as the futures of the countries the Princes hail from. Would uniting really make them all stronger or would it simply make it easier to take out the remaining heads of the larger countries. The Empire had no problem lying in wait. This much she knew from accounts of how the other countries were taken over. Especially in the beginning. She quickened her pace, she needed to find a book, one that accounted the start of the war. Would there even be one? She had scoured the library many times for Gilthan history but all had been lost. After a bit of walking she finally entered the large room that was the castle's main library. There were smaller libraries scattered about but those only contained copies of the books held in this room. Any book the royal family owned would be found in this room. Books were not allowed to leave this library, so the collection should be complete, so long as nobody had snuck one out. Some of the castle's staff approached the Princess as she entered but they were quickly waved off with a polite smile. She didn't want or need the help. Immediately she got to work scouring the shelves, pulling anything down that she thought would have any sort of relevant information. It took her a bit but eventually she had quite a few books piled up on one of the many tables that were scattered around the front of the room. Annalise got to work skimming the books, moving everything she realized was not helpful to the side. The discarded books were taken and put back by the staff that occupied the room. Books were watched closely here, even when in the hands of one of the Royal family. The rule was not to be broken, by anyone. This was the one place the mages had more authority than she did, and she was always careful to respect that. She would spend the next while skimming books and placing them to the side when she didn't find what she wanted. She figured this task would take her a while, keep her busy until she was either interrupted, or the time to prepare for the ball began.</s>	<\|message\|>Vyarin Kremazov First on the checklist; the letter from his father. Ducking out of the breakfast hall, Vyarin was greeted with the familiar disorientation imposed upon him by the majestic palace of Astalia. Rooms upon rooms, hallways upon hallways, as to what led where he could only guess. Absentmindedly, Vyarin fished a bite of bread from his pockets and took a bite. He hoped this wouldn't be a long morning. The first challenge, he realized, was where exactly he would find a suitable fire. He had no place in a kitchen; that was the domain of skinners and stewards. No doubt he would get chased out like a boy before he could place his vellum message anywhere near where they made their meals. No, that would not do at all. For a guest to intrude upon their host in such a manner, for that is what they were, even the lowly Krebos, is beyond undignified. His luck finally turned, however, when he stumbled into a common room, with a growing fire as tended to by a muttering servant. When he approached, she took one glance up at him before scurrying away, muttering apologies in Astalian. Vyarin felt a little demoralized that the mere sight of him, or the breadth between their status, had banished her away like an evil spirit against a fetish, but for his purposes it served him well. He fished out the parchment, now covered in crumbs, and tossed it gingerly in the fire. The corners blackened, then curled, crumbling back into insignificant dust. There, his little conspiracy might escape his fool mind or his fool mouth, but never via his father's hand. It then occurred to him that he heard a noise, the shuffling of documents and the dragging of wood against wood. Was someone planning a campaign? His mind immediately leapt to paranoia, but his reason won out quickly. Nobody knew of the coming armies of Logon. Nonetheless, doubt crept back into his mind and bit down. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to check, just to make absolutely sure. Carefulness, after all, is the highest of duties, among others. The neighbouring room was much different from its adjacent; it was covered in racks, but rather than holding weapons or shaman's herbs, it was dedicated entirely to scrolls and arranged stacks of parchment so thick it resembled blocks. Immediately a stern aide wearing the colours of Astalia approached him and began either instructing or insulting him, he could not say for certain. When the aide gestured to the scrolls with purpose, he glared up at Vyarin, almost totally unafraid of the difference in their statures. Vyarin admired that; in another life, in another world, this diminutive scrawny man could have been a mighty berserker. Vyarin's luck was truly with him today, for the source of the noise was none other than Annalise, daughter of Harold. She read quickly, arranging the pages before her with the vigour that came with worry. He almost didn't want to interrupt her.</s>
<\|description\|>Jinayah Altera Age: 17 Bio: As the youngest of four, Jinayah has enjoyed some degree of freedom. She is a strange sort of princess, well-known for demanding boys' clothes since she was old enough to express it. While she will wear gowns on formal occasions, most of the time she can be found in specially tailored tunics and pants, down at target practice, or training in the yard with the knights. She is a bit on the spoiled side, which may be part of the reason she is allowed her freedoms and odd habits. Other: Jin looks very much like her mother, especially in the eyes. This has made her father avoid speaking to her lately, which hurts.</s> <\|message\|>Vyarin Kremazov There was a lot to consider for Vyarin, as he is led along another great hallway by his retinue. His eyes narrowed unjustifiably at the paintings arranged along the wall. Those women, the daughters, had made something of an impression on him. He thought back to earlier in the day, how two of them had approached the assembly of princes. Each was flanked by a man, a loyal guard most likely. They were as the new moon and the full, the two of them. Was it a ploy of some sort? He had seen such a plot before, observing as his father and his uncle would question defectors. Yet all that was years ago, and Vyarin's memory of that now has faded near enough that he cannot recall for the life of him any particulars. He scratched his chin, where the scruff was just beginning to return. Focus, now, was key; it was of paramount importance that he take note of all that occurs within these walls. The first had introduced herself as Sulhana, before the entire hall. She then approached Vyarin first, her loyal man in tow, and spoke to him, venom in her throat. As she stepped forward, he and his men stepped back. Vyarin looked into her eyes but for a split second, and looked away. Her gaze could only be surpassed in its strength by his own father. He had spent enough time with his father to know; the older man was never shy to display his anger, and very quickly do all who counsel him learn to recognize when they are being spat at. So too was the case with this Sulhana, who although of shorter stature and more slender form, spoke down to Vyarin in the nature of a host to their unwanted guest. Her guard translated, his mastery of the Prozdy speech impeccable, but overly literal, and the language of Astalia did not map perfectly to that of Prozdy, it must be admitted. Vyarin found the man curious, in a way. Did his ancestry stem from the League? Had he served under a prince within? As Sulhana finished, Vyarin gave a nod to her, and another to her translator, and they moved on to the next prince. The second daughter was the true surprise. Rather than making use of a translator, she spoke to him directly, calling him by the traditional manner and offering to him a gift. The jewel was magnificent, larger than his own thumb by at least twice, cut with obvious masterwork. Vyarin reached out with his hands and took the box. "I receive this . . . err . . . in your honour," he had said. Poetics did not come naturally to him. Yet, she had made the effort to speak to him as the nomad-chiefs did, so he felt he ought respond in kind. He didn't dare try the same in Astalian; that sounded a path towards disaster. The crowd, with time, began to depart. Vyarin took one last look at the other princes, then at his own retinue. The loyal men returned his look with their own, some of them quizzical, most of them tired. After a brief silence, one of them approached, and whispered. "Your orders, superior?" "Go into the town and collect the rest. We were promised food and shelter, let them feed and shelter us. If any of them managed to get themselves into trouble . . ." Vyarin thumbed the little jewel in his hand. ". . . Pay off their grievances. We have excess coins; not steel." As for him, well . . . the Court of Flowers awaits.</s> <\|message\|>Gil Jalal --- --- Annalise stood when the Princes entered the hall and greeted them with her father. She would be lying if she said that each one didn't peak her interest. Each and everyone of them was so incredibly different. She had known this would be the case however actually getting to see it was something else. She greeted each with a smile and a bow of her head, but said nothing. As soon as her father began speaking she took her seat, observing the individuals as he spoke. Trying to read each Prince's reaction to the situation. Both Sulhana and Loreena addressed the Princes directly. However Annalise had decided to observe before taking action. She knew all too well that as the eldest at least a few of them, if not all, would attempt to claim her as there's. She has no intention of taking the situation lightly. Whoever she married would inherit both their own kingdom, as well as hers when both of their parents could no longer rule. The eldest daughter had gracefully slipped out of the main hall when Loreena was giving them their gifts. In the hopes that they were distracted by her sister. The suitors who had joined them seemed to simply be adjusting to what was happening. They weren't showing their hands yet, and she wanted some time to think before she joined Sulhana in the Court of Flowers. After all she had a whole country to think about. Annalise soon found herself in the castle's Library. She would often come here to distract herself. Reading some of the old tales that were here helped calm her down. Though today her thoughts were too strong. No amount of books could distract her from her thoughts today. There was too much riding on the decisions to come. The man she married would lay claim to not only his own thrown, in the case of all the men besides Gil, but also Astalia's thrown. As she looked at the many books on the shelves her thoughts wandered to the Princes who had arrived. Logically, if she wanted to ensure that Astalia remained a military power within the continent her choices for suitors were the Prodzy Prince and the Jorda Prince. Both had strong military forces. However there was an unknown with the Elven Prince Alvaro, and the Orcish Prince Gil. Of the two however Prince Gil held no claim to his people's throne. From what Sulhana had managed to get the young prince had little to no desire to rule. As the third son he had the most freedom among his siblings and seemed content to maintain that status. The likely-hood that he would have any interest in herself was slim to none. Then again, a man who had no interest in ruling would be far more likely to let her take the responsibility of doing so. Annalise decided that clearly she was not going to get any peace of mind from reading and headed, finally, toward the Court of Flowers. A handmaiden scurried back into the castle from the courtyard and stopped only briefly to curtsy in her direction, then continued on her path. She was about to enter the courtyard when the sound of music reached her ears. She paused outside the door and listened. A tear fell down her cheek as she listened to her sister's song. They were all so young when they lost their mother, and their father hadn't been the same since. Annalise only had vague memories of her mother, her siblings were likely the same. Jin had barely entered the world when she had passed. How ironic that the daughter that looked the most like her mother entered the world shortly before their mother left. It took her a moment, but she composed herself and walked into the Court of Flowers. The veil that covered her slightly discolored right eye was still secured to her hair, she had honestly meant to remove it but had forgotten it was there since she couldn't see it. Her pale blue eyes hid the difference well from a distance, but up close it was obvious that one eye was much closer to a silver color, and this eye never focused on anything. The obvious sign that she had no sight in her right eye. She worried this would make her less appealing to the suitors and ruin the whole plan but now was not the time. Her functional eye landed on her sister, as she walked to her. "Why must my younger siblings show me up so extravagantly?" She teased embracing Sulhana in a short hug, releasing after only a few seconds. "Do you think any of the men will come?" She questioned though it wasn't something she was expecting much of an answer to, she was more asking herself out loud. She wasn't even sure her other two sisters would join them. Jin especially, this was not her type of thing. She hoped that everyone would turn up. A chance to converse without the prying eyes of their father and the nosey members of the court would be fantastic. They would all get a sense for each other before they had to appear in public, at a ball no less. \| \| \| \| ______________________________________ \| \| --- After it seemed the ruling family was finished addressing them and they were officially allowed to wander the grounds Gil left the Hall without a word to any of the others there. Aldar and Sioban followed behind him as he left, though he quickly dismissed both men to do as they pleased. Aldar excused himself to go make sure the group's sleeping arrangements were prepared but Sioban continued to follow the Prince around. Sioban was young for as skilled of a Shaman as he was. Though he looked to be the same age as Gil, Sioban was in his early thirties. He was by no means a master at his craft but he was far more skilled than others at his age. Though there was a decent age gap between the two, Gil and Sioban were pretty good friends so the Prince had no qualms with the Shaman following him around. "Do you plan to attend that gathering the Princess was speaking about?" The Shaman's amber eyes landed on the Prince, he seemed he had more to say but kept it to himself. Gil took a moment to think. He was told he could decline but it seemed rude to do so. Not to mention what he would say about his character if he refused to interact with any of the Princesses outside of official functions. Though he didn't particularly care for marrying any of them, it was for the benefit of his country and his people. "It would be rude to not attend. Plus the opportunity to get to know them before all eyes are on us would be ideal. So yes, I do intend to attend." He glanced over to the man beside him who smiled lightly. "Which means you will have to go bother Aldar for a while. I don't need a babysitter." Gil's blue eyes squinted at the half orc beside him, who was chuckling to himself. "I had no intention of following you to the Court of Flowers. I was going to take the time to prod at the minds of the court mages here, I have never met a mage so I figured it would be fun to compare notes." Gil gave the Shaman a skeptical look. "Relax Gil when I say prod I mean talk not invade their personal thoughts. You know that takes a while to prepare anyway. Plus I am sure Mages would know how to defend against something like that. Anyway, I am leaving you now. Don't embarrass us in front of the ladies. Good luck." Sioban slapped the young Prince on the back before turning on a heel and walking back down the hall he had come from, leaving Gil to his thoughts as he wondered. It was a short walk from the time Sioban left him to when he made it to the Court of Flowers, after asking a servant for directions. He stopped beside the door, staring at it for a moment. He mentally prepared himself to use the Astalian native language, rather than Orcish. The advantage of having a collection of citizens from every country is there was always a tutor in the languages he needed, so he and his brothers were all and least conversationally fluent in most of the languages spoken on Sahas. When the invitation was sent out Gil's practices went directly to Astalian and the languages spoken by the remaining countries free from the Empire. With a sigh Gil straightened and entered the Court of Flowers. A quick glance said he was the one of the first here, not even all the Princesses had made it. He should have had Sioban add the ribbon to this hair before coming here, maybe then he would have been the last. It was too late now, so in a heavily accented voice Gil greeted those there already. "Greetings." He bowed his head a little in respect and then his blue eyes watched the reactions of the others.</s>	<\|message\|>Jinayah Altera Jinayah stood politely in the great hall, waiting for the ceremony to be over. It may have looked like she was bored on the outside, but inside, she was having quite the panic. She had yet to speak a word to the foreign princes. Gifts! Why hadn't she thought of that? Then again, it's not like she was one to win over people with fancy presents. Her preferred method of making friends was finding common ground and matching over that. So what if said common ground had been arguments over the best swordsmith and one actual duel over the reputation of the best bowyer in the business? What was she going to do? For the first time in her life, Jin felt afraid of who she was. Forget falling in love; that fairy-tale nonsense was bound to be impossible. What if none of these men would simply put up with her? What if her natural inclination just scared them off? Then her father would be down one crucial alliance, and there could be an easy weakness against the growing threat of the empire! She had more or less accepted her fate as one of her father's "pieces on the board". But now she was rethinking things. What if everything was ruined? Because of her? AGAIN? The ceremony ended at some point and people began to drift away. She also left in a distracted manner, her feet moving on their own, and her head adrift in thought. It was no hidden secret in her heart that she felt responsible for her mother's death. Her siblings had treated her a bit differently in their early years. Sulhana's cutting remarks had lasted the longest. Unfortunately, some of them had been memorized in the corner of her mind, and burned like a fresh cut. Her father, gods bless him, had done his best to connect with her. But to look at your child and to only see the face of the one you loved, gone because of that same child… It was no wonder they never spoke anymore. She understood it plain – her birth and Mother's death had put them on this path. Maybe if Mother had been alive, there would have been a different solution to alliances. The four of them wouldn't be in this situation. Maybe if she had never been born at all – Jin took in a sharp breath, feeling her eyes swim. Suddenly, she just felt so out of place. Her chest seemed to buckle in on itself. The candles in the hall seemed to swirl around her, the very stone closing in. She struggled to breathe. Outside, she had to get outside. Luckily, she was nothing if not fast, and her strong legs carried her to the nearest exit past the Court of Flowers. It seemed she was right back where she had started, in the training yard. In her ballgown and regalia, she probably looked absolutely ridiculous. She strode to the shed where the training blades were kept, feeling her chest start to loosen the moment she laid hands on the sword set aside for her. Familiar steps drew her into the sword dance, and she quickly lost herself in the motions. She would go the party, and soon, but first she had to calm down, her own way.</s>
<\|description\|>Jinayah Altera Age: 17 Bio: As the youngest of four, Jinayah has enjoyed some degree of freedom. She is a strange sort of princess, well-known for demanding boys' clothes since she was old enough to express it. While she will wear gowns on formal occasions, most of the time she can be found in specially tailored tunics and pants, down at target practice, or training in the yard with the knights. She is a bit on the spoiled side, which may be part of the reason she is allowed her freedoms and odd habits. Other: Jin looks very much like her mother, especially in the eyes. This has made her father avoid speaking to her lately, which hurts.</s> <\|message\|>Loreena Altera Loreena and Uriah made it to the Court in time to see Sulhana greet the two princes. Erick looked stiff as a stone pillar and Gil seemed trying to help make him relax. She was about to step forward and greet them when she saw Sulhana perform her prestidigitation. Something about the sight made Lore's heart clench. What her younger sister could do was visually far more impressive than what Lore could currently control, and to see such a display, an uncertain wave of envy washed over her. It was why she never practiced in front of anyone except Uriah and the other mages. She found herself taking a step back, only to fetch up against the unyielding form of Uriah. He did not allow her to back down, having seen the display as well. "Go, child. You are here to get to know your new brothers and see if one is a suitable match for your future life. Not to show them tricks or make a display of yourself." He nudged her forward, making her press onward, and shadowed her along the perimeter of the court along with the other staff. Lore was offered a glass of wine, which she accepted, seeing Sulhana and Gil engaged in a drinking contest. Glancing at Erick, the corner of her mouth turned up when she saw the glint of yellow on his wrist. Her gift to him! He had incorporated it into his outfit! Gravitating towards him, she gave him another customary yet more informal Jördanian greeting. "You...wear my gift, Erick. I am glad it pleases you enough." Reaching up, she touched his hand gently where he gripped the goblet Sulhana offered him earlier hard enough that his knuckles were edged in white, hoping the gesture would encourage him to relax his grip a little. "You feel as awkward about this as we do." She glanced down to her own hand holding her chalice, seeing the way the liquid rippled in the cup as her hand quivered a little. "It is difficult to get past the feeling we are all actors performing on a stage trying to find our cue and impress each other." Her nose crinkled a little in a playful smile. "You have nothing to prove to anyone here, Erick."</s> <\|message\|>Erick Gil deployed a hefty grip upon Erick's shoulder and he rattled him somewhat, likely with unintended force given the size of him, as the half-orc spoke in Orcish, Erick only partially understood the statement with knowing a couple of words 'brother' and a concept of quietness or peace depending on context; regardless, Gil's cheerful disposition made it clear of his intent on reassuring him. The Jörda prince expressed a grin and nodded fondly, responding to Gil with a firm slap on his other arm to acknowledge the sentiment. Gil then turned his attention to the princesses, he accepted the challenge and took a seat - he already seemed at ease. Erick wasn't sure from which place within him his tension seemed to arise, though this was a different kind of battlefield he supposed.. there was no thundering cavalry, no clash of metal, no crunching of bones or the slip of a blade through flesh, and yet, somehow, Jörda's fate still rested upon him. The silence, the peace, the tranquility which, recently, had been foreign to him, was what unnerved him, even before he'd have to begin to woo a bride and with this too, he was also fairly out of touch. If it was any consolation, Astalia's daughters seemed to be as free-women were; spirited and independent, and the third daughter in particular appeared to enjoy entertaining if not toying with the suitors, whilst Annalise, although seemingly quieter than her younger sibling, observed with a sense of confidence before she had spoken to the princes trying to put them at ease; Erick had met her eyes, smiled and blinked in appreciation of her efforts - he would take her up on this invitation. Sulhana acknowledged the Afdan prince when he passed her to be seated, she turned her attention to Erick and her playfulness seemed to temper, as though she understood he perhaps needed her compassion, he glanced as she placed her hand on his shoulder before he reconnected with her gaze, he thumbed the rings on his right hand but did not move otherwise. He scanned her eyes as she spoke, and followed them too as she examined him, but as she took a pace back, quite unexpectedly she produced the glass - Erick felt both impressed yet foolish for the trick to deceive him which he could not contain - he bit his lower lip and smirked, "very good" he acknowledged, as Sulhana passed him the wine he raised it to her for a moment in a gesture of praise. He drank deeply from the glass and observed her as she made her way to the prince Gil to continue her mischief, Erick's hazel eyes slipped from her to Annalise, he approached her and leaned in, looking at her from under his brow he glanced to Sulhana, "do you also drink like your sister?" he remarked, amused, although there was not a tone of disapproval in his voice, he seemed to be resisting yet again another smirk from unfolding across his lips for he did not wish to offend, this concern disappeared as the princess Loreena seemed to apparate to his side - he'd not seen her skim the fringes of the courtyard between the dancing light of the torches before Uriah encouraged her to emerge. She greeted him convincingly in his own language, so well-practiced his mind faltered for a moment he was about to respond in kind before he tumbled back into Astalian, as a result his first few words were something of an amalgamation, he seemed to pause to glance away with some embarrassment; Erick cleared his throat briefly and began again, "we do not have these such items" he gathered together the reply but Loreena's openness, her touch caught him off-guard. The princess's words were incredibly exposing, she'd said aloud what the others had also easily perceived as much as he'd tried to mask it, perhaps yet still he could pass it off as some quiet reservedness? Regardless, she'd admitted they too didn't seem comfortable with the necessary arrangements, but yet they found it within themselves to extend warmth to the foreign suitors in their home, Loreena smiled and he returned one of some kind of gentle sympathy. You have nothing to prove to anyone here, Erick. His expression broke into the smirk he'd fought earlier to contain, "oh.. don't I?" he stifled a laugh as he looked at both the princesses Loreena and Annalise in turn before passing his gaze once again in the direction of Sulhana, whom seemed eager to bait them to her challenges..</s> <\|message\|>Gil Jalal --- --- "On the contrary, dear sister. He must prove he can hold his liquor." Annalise remarked to Lore as her sister entered the courtyard. There was a gentle smile on her face as Annalise removed the annoying half veil from her hair. Finally the slight discoloration of her right eye was no longer hidden. She silently hoped the setting sun would hide this from the suitors just a little longer, but it was a nice test. Their reaction to the realization that she did not have vision in her eye would tell her a lot about them. Finally she fully acknowledged the man who she had realized had moved closer to her asking if she drank like her sister. "I do indeed drink, though I would say Sulhana can, and does, outdrink me on the regular. But don't let that discourage you. What do you say Prince Erick, Lore, care to insert ourselves into Sulhana and Prince Gil's competition? Or Maybe we have our own competition." She raised her eyebrow and then turned to Uriah who she had seen shuffle to the side with the rest of the staff. "You wouldn't mind if Lore missed out on a day of training due to a hangover would you? Also not telling our father would be much appreciated." She smiled softly at the man who, had she had any magical talent, would have been her teacher. She had no doubt that the man would at least not tell their father about anything that happened here tonight. At least not anything as harmless as a drinking contest. \| \| \| \| ______________________________________ \| \| --- Gil couldn't help the stupid smile on his face when Sulhana asked if it was too late for him to pull his punches. "I do believe it was you who extended this challenge so I have no intention of going easy on you. Treat you as an equal I shall." He watched the princess move toward him with two glasses, one he assumed was for him and one for herself. He did his best not to run his eyes across her body. She was beautiful for sure, but he was still trying to be respectful. That was until she proposed a wager. His eyebrow raised as he listened to her speak. She knew what she was doing. He reached for the glass but it was quickly moved away from him and the contents consumed by the woman in front of him. "You have yourself a deal Princess." He wasn't going to tell her he would answer any questions she had about his culture without the wager. It was more fun this way. He wasn't sure her true game, and if he were honest, he didn't care. He had spent weeks traveling with nobody but Sioban and Aldar, only one of which was any sort of fun. "If I win you have to tell me what you really feel about all of…this." He motioned to the group that was already there, sure she would understand his meaning. She seemed to be an intelligent individual. He watched the woman as she turned and motioned him to follow, inviting him for a walk. He let out a little chuckle as he quickly poured himself not one but two drinks and quickly downed them. "Now we are even." He said as he stood to his full height and followed behind her. It was silent for a moment until she remarked about what she could give to fly. "I have only flown once. Though it was a cruel joke pulled on me by Sioban, the Shaman that traveled with me." He looked up at the stars with a small glimmer in his blue eyes. "At first there was fear, as my body left the sturdy familiarity of the ground. Then, even though I didn't get very high up before my brothers and Aldar made him put me down, pure joy. I was a small child when this happened, but I remember it like it was yesterday." He sighed, a weight now sitting on his shoulders, realizing that he would never feel that freedom again. Not after marrying one of the Princesses. He would have a duty, at the very least to his family, old and new. He hadn't realized the smile he wore had faded slightly at this realization. After a moment he shook his head a little, attention going back to the green eyed woman he now stood beside. Gil nervously scratched the back of his neck. Which pulled his collar down just enough to reveal the top of the black markings that covered part of his upper body. Tattoos he had recently gotten to decorate his body. "We seem to be missing your youngest sister, the Elven Prince and the Prozdy Prince, yes? I hope they didn't get lost. I know I almost did while I was exploring." He leaned on the stone railing, effectively bringing his eyes to her level. He didn't want to look down at her, nor did he feel right to make her look up to him. Putting them on the same level seemed the most respectful thing he could do. And seeing as the only way to do that was to either pick her up, or he slump, he opted to slump.</s>	<\|message\|>Jinayah Altera "The sword?" Jin searched her mind for a suitable word in Prodzy, but she was coming up empty. Did the word not exist, or had she just forgotten? "Longsword." She finally said in Astalian. Switching back to Prodzy, she approached Vyarin carefully. After all, he did have a blade in his hand that he didn't know how to use. Sir Arnold had always beat it into their heads that an untrained novice was sometimes more dangerous than a trained professional. You had no idea what they could do. "Please to excuse." She gently gripped his hands and adjusted them on the hilt. "Better now." As far as she had read, Prodzy had plenty of weapons. So why was this one so curious to him? She would have to get with her sisters and ask them to translate better. Speaking of sisters – "Ah, wait! The Court of Flowers is waiting on us!" She looked down at herself. There was a bit of a mess on the very edges of her gown, but there was no time to change into another. Sighing softly and trying to rearrange her hair, she nodded to Vyarin. Briefly in Prodzy, she explained. "Come, follow!" Then she headed back inside, making sure Vyarin was somewhat behind her. With her short legs and his long ones, he could easily catch up. She led the way to the Court of Flowers, and paused once more before entering the area proper. There were going to be looks, she knew. But if they were to be her new brothers, and one a husband, they'd find out eventually. Best to discuss her proclivities on her own terms. Striding in with squared shoulders, Jin smiled warmly at all present. "Sorry I'm late. But I found one lost prince!" Seeing wine glasses already tabled (and some empty), she picked one up and took a sip. It was stronger than any they'd let her have before. Only a few years ago, they had been watering down her wine with meals. Was she suddenly such an adult now? Seeing Sulhana with that mischievous cat look on her face, and Annalise nearby, she went to Loreena instead. "Hi Lore. Having fun yet?" She curtsied briefly to Uriah as well. He wasn't royal, but his status garnered a lot of respect in her eyes. "I got… a little sidetracked. Do you think it'll be too noticeable?"</s>
<\|description\|>Jinayah Altera Age: 17 Bio: As the youngest of four, Jinayah has enjoyed some degree of freedom. She is a strange sort of princess, well-known for demanding boys' clothes since she was old enough to express it. While she will wear gowns on formal occasions, most of the time she can be found in specially tailored tunics and pants, down at target practice, or training in the yard with the knights. She is a bit on the spoiled side, which may be part of the reason she is allowed her freedoms and odd habits. Other: Jin looks very much like her mother, especially in the eyes. This has made her father avoid speaking to her lately, which hurts.</s> <\|message\|>Erick Erick's smirk widened when Annalise seemed to concur the sentiment, he glanced at Uriah with whom Loreena held a brief interaction - she was free to indulge the festivities this evening, it would seem. The prince scanned Loreena's jewelled adornments as she described the gems as an aid in harnessing her power, before he looked to that which was wrapped to his wrist, a personal gift indeed.. magic and the soul were one, to him at least, so it was quite right that it had no place other than on his person, "to bond it to me is my honour" he affirmed, giving a thoughtful smile. Erick flexed his brow and looked about as the last princess and the prince Vyarin arrived to the courtyard. Jinayah greeted them quite informally and made her way to Loreena who was in his company, as was Annalise, as she drew closer he could see she was a little disheveled with some smears of dust about her attire, which he found unusual given her status and the nature of the event, though he concealed his judgment on this observation. He gave a shallow but nonetheless gracious bow with her arrival "Princess Jinayah" he expressed warmly before glancing to the Prozdy prince too to acknowledge him before he arose. Vyarin also seemed quite out of place, if not moreso, which made Erick feel a little better - as he'd shifted to the table and appeared to reel back with the taste of the wine, he felt confident further still… perhaps the Prozdy people preferred the sap and fungi from the forests? It would certainly make things a little interesting.. Probably not appropriate. Whilst Loreena engaged the youngest sister upon her arrival, Erick looked back to Annalise - her veil had shifted and the pigmentation of the concealed eye was revealed, but he gave no indication that he had noticed and seemed to examine all features of her face as he spoke, "I think our own competition sounds like a good idea but…perhaps if not a little unfair" he drank deeply from the glass once again which emptied it - it seemed to be the mellow Astalian wine, and he was quite keen to partake of the robust Afdan beverage, "by what standards would you test me.. Annalise?" he made a gesture for her to walk with him to sit at the table, for he did remember why he was here. Sulhana simultaenously made her announcement, which beckoned all attendees to enjoy the abundance of food and drink presented for them. The princess Sulhana was indeed a gracious and experienced hostess, but Erick was sure there was a sense of detachment, perhaps sadness in the way in which she expressed things - he understood he supposed, their lives were likely to change and far more greatly than that of any of the suitors.. Did she even have a preference? ..he wondered.</s> <\|message\|>Alvaro "Now is not the time for mistakes. Now is the time for action. Do what you feel is best for your kingdom." --- --- As each assembled before the great King, Alvaro was silent. He was observing each of them, wondering what it was like to grow up in their shoes, wondering if there could be any happiness with the cold breath of the enemy on their necks. They all had something in common. They were all on the list of destruction should they choose not to act. Alvaro wondered if he could go through with the lie. To marry the great King's daughter and pretend as if his heart did not already belong to someone else. The greatest of all fallacies and he questioned his own morals. How could he lead a kingdom and act so treacherously? His conscience continued to gnaw at him. More than anything he wanted to make his father proud, but he also had his own life to live. The great King had graciously invited them all to take the hand of one of his daughters and yet, Alvaro gazed at each beautiful princess and wondered how soft their hair was and how quickly he could braid it. To him, friendships and bonds lasted longer, and although he would no doubt be unable to marry one of them, he would ensure that an alliance would be forged in the shackles of truth. The great King had offered a moment for anyone to speak, but his daughters presented themselves to each of the princes. Alvaro graciously accepted the beautiful gift from Loreena. Her bow made him smile. It was a sign of respect in his kingdom that equals bowed to each other, but also you bowed deeply to those of higher wisdom and age. His window of opportunity to speak with the great King soon passed, but he felt welcomed in the kingdom and would do his best not to upset any of the royal family while there. He turned to his lover and guard and smiled. "I will speak with the King alone," he spoke in his native tongue, "please behave while we are here. We are guests and should act as such." They'd been invited to the Court of Flowers. Perhaps he would get another chance to speak with the King alone, but for now he would retire to his chambers and freshen for the festivities that awaited later that evening. The Court of Flowers was sure to be as interesting as it sounded. Alvaro had observed each of the princesses and one had caught his line of sight. She was interesting and yet hadn't spoken at all during the ceremony. Alas they all seemed to disperse, even the princes and he was no exception. "Do you think your father will be upset?" Nairo asked. "My father will learn to understand and hopefully will accept you," Alvaro said, glancing up at Nairo as he sat on the bed. "The King can be forgiving," Cairo stated. "I know Cairo, but I must be careful how this is done. The great King could find it insulting, and the last thing we need is discontent between kingdoms. I will speak with the King alone, but be mindful while you are here, for we are not home. Use our native tongue to speak to each other, but no secrets. Understood?" Cairo and Nairo nodded while Alvaro continued to get dressed. He wore a beautiful phoenix embossed garment that flowed from his toned form. A beautiful necklace adorned his neck and chest, the gemstone holding mysteries within it. The solid violet gem seemed to swirl specks of white and gold in its center.. Alvaro's earrings accented the beautiful lavender garment he wore and he stood from the bed examining himself in the mirror. "You look amazing," Nairo said. "The most fashion forward in the kingdom," Cairo stated. Alvaro smiled and shook his head. He was the last to arrive in the great hall. The beautiful flowers made him think of home. He strolled in, and remained silent as he observed what was going on, not wanting to interrupt.</s>	<\|message\|>Jinayah Altera Jin relaxed considerably as Lore adjusted her hairstyle. Her sister's touch was very warm and soothing. It was so much nicer than when her ladies in waiting did it. They always made the bun too tight. "Much better, Lore. Thank you." She smiled widely and took a delicate sip of the wine. It was delicious, and quite powerful, and had a different scent entirely than what they usually had with dinner. Sulhana was always good at choosing that kind of thing. "A drinking contest, hm? I suppose I will join. Consider this my entry." While she had grown used to the nonalcoholic cider in the silver cups, today was apparently the day she became an adult. She took another careful sip of the wine and watched as Vyarin sputtered over his. What was that about? Was he going to be alright? Lore was already on it, so she turned her attention to Hana as she approached. "I wouldn't have run away. Not from this. I'm supposed to be the bravest of all of us, aren't I? So here I am." She chuckled as she was engulfed in a hug. There had always been a bit of the dramatic in Hana, spymaster or not. She had always been the one to make up stories as children. Her speaking of governesses and new-dress days with four less than earnest young ladies brought a sparkle to her eyes and a grin to her face. It had been simpler, yes. Much simpler. Jin actually lost composure and blushed when Sulhana mentioned the armor she had received. But she was surprised at her elder sister's advice. "You think I should have? Perhaps. Then the men would know what they're really working with, instead of… this." Sometimes the fancy gowns felt like lying. She approached Prince Gil, swept a curtsy and smiled. Before they could really get to talk, however, Hana announced that dinner was on the table. Despite her earlier nerves, the head-clearing workout from earlier had made her rather hungry now. It would be good to sit and eat.</s>
<\|description\|>Jinayah Altera Age: 17 Bio: As the youngest of four, Jinayah has enjoyed some degree of freedom. She is a strange sort of princess, well-known for demanding boys' clothes since she was old enough to express it. While she will wear gowns on formal occasions, most of the time she can be found in specially tailored tunics and pants, down at target practice, or training in the yard with the knights. She is a bit on the spoiled side, which may be part of the reason she is allowed her freedoms and odd habits. Other: Jin looks very much like her mother, especially in the eyes. This has made her father avoid speaking to her lately, which hurts.</s> <\|message\|>Vyarin Kremazov "I understand now," Vyarin said, nodding his head. This one had a wit about her, he thought, that she could tell what he needed to know even without him having to ask. Perhaps she was the eldest? Were it so, he would have to get into her good graces now. Continue to nod along now, and be agreeable. Although, now that he considered it, perhaps it said more of his habit than hers. Although he appeared to stroke his chin, it was more like he was touching his face. He was an open book, no doubt about it. She could read his thoughts like a malevolent forest witch from the bard's tales. Though perhaps if he took her to wife, she could teach him how it is done? How delightful it would be to tell one's thoughts from their visage alone! Yet, all was not well, he considered. It was the battle instinct that tugged at the back of his eye in a sharp report. This woman had no interest in his benefit. Yet, he wondered, once the alliance is formed, did that truly matter so much? So lost in thought was he that he barely caught the tail end of her question. She had a way of speaking, they all did here in Astalia. Bard's speech, it was known at home. It was well of them to accommodate for his language, true, but their perception of Prozdy was simply woefully out of date. He paused, searching his mind. Yes, the question. He remembered now. The truth was, he had grown strangely quickly to adapt. The ebb and flow of the pain was unpredictable, almost as the flow of a conversation. However, he was not about to reveal his suspicions to her. ". . . It is mostly gone," he answered, looking anywhere but in her eyes. "I feel as healthy as before I lost it." Over time, the revelry wound down. Many cups of rotted grape were eagerly devoured by the seven strangers, so much so that nobody particularly cared to decide between them a 'winner'. Vyarin suspected that was the point. They enjoy it so that any excuse may be made to imbibe. What a peculiar habit of these far-easterners, that what in one hand paralyzes the living mind of a warrior is on the other to their delight. Excuses were made in the late night, and Vyarin was eventually escorted under watchful eye of the castle guardsmen to a chamber set aside for him. His own men were nowhere to be seen, which worried him greatly. Should they not have objected to their prince of princes being escorted by any other than them? His mind instantly went to the worst possibilities. There had to be trouble afoot, he was certain of it. His men knew better than to quarrel; perhaps it was the fault of a local? He wondered this, as his shaman meekly entered his room bearing another missive from his father. He accepted it without a word, and she disappeared as she came. Vyarin set the letter aside; he could just as easily read it tomorrow. Today, there was work to be done. Serious work. From his satchel, he pulled his phrasebook of all the known realms of Sahas. He had thought he had studied it thoroughly when he had left home. Frustrated, he flipped through the book, sullenly repeating the lines again and again. "I know this!" he groaned, finding only familiar pages. "I know this for certain!" Tired, he set the book down, and stumbled into the bed, peeling back the old bandages and tossing them on the ground. He dare not think what lie beneath it, as he wrapped a fresh coat of linen about his head. At last, done with the day as far as he was concerned, he lay back and dreamed dreams in Astalian.</s> <\|message\|>Gil Jalal The Day of the Ball The night went smoothly for the eight nobles gathered in the court of flowers. They drank and talked and made marry into the early hours of the evening when, eventually it was advised that they all return to their quarters. The day ahead of them was to be an important one. Many of the members of the court would be joining them in the evening for the ball the king had planned. The eight nobles would be watched with varying opinions. The ball was not set until after sundown, so they had until then to prepare themselves or do anything else they wished to do, however none were permitted to leave the castle grounds without at least one Astalian guard escorting them, mostly to ensure that they do not get lost and also that they return to the castle in a timely manner to attend the ball. \| \| ______________________________________ \| \| --- King Harold spent the night of the gathering polishing up the last of the details for the ball. All seemed fine, however when he awoke a messenger was waiting to deliver a message that he had been worried was coming. A rolled parchment with the seal of the Gilthan Empire was placed in his hand almost as soon as he opened the door to his chambers. Harold blinked at the scroll for several seconds before looking at the individual who handed it to him. Before he could speak the man spoke. "The Court Wizards checked it for any sign of magic before I was permitted to bring it to you." The King nodded and waved the man off. It seemed the messenger was waiting for the queue as he turned on his heel and rushed back down the hallway. The old King broke the seal of the scroll carefully, as if a snake would jump out at him as soon as he was done breaking it, or if he broke it the wrong way, despite being sure his Mages were more than capable of detecting any magical traps. I greet you King Harold of Astalia It has come to my attention that Astalia, and the remaining "free" countries have decided it was time to join together in holy matrimony in an attempt to band together and defeat the growing Empire. The King with no Heir. The fallen Sun and the broken Moon. You think this move will save you from the might of The Sovereign, but you have only gathered all the heirs into one location. How will your countries hold if they lose the next rulers? How fast will the other countries turn on Astalia if their heirs perish under Astalian protection? Call off this foolish attempt to make a stand. You have been warned. The King handed the letter to the nearest guard. "Burn this. The Empire is trying to scare us. The attempt of a faceless ruler who knows what the remaining counties united will result in their downfall." The guard nodded and the letter was placed into the closest source of fire as Harold walked into the dinning hall where breakfast was prepared for the royal family as well as the visiting suitors at their convenience. He took his place at the end of the table before anyone entered and began eating in silence.</s> <\|message\|>Erick Whooshing. What was that whooshing? Faint crashing something beat against rock with a rumble not unlike thunder, it reverberated throughout the walls, and his bones. Erick's mind ever on the battlefield conjured images of what it could be, the rhythmic clash of weapons and armour surging as one? Was it catapults hurling balls of stone engulfed in raging fire to crumble bricks and mortar? But, where was he? Erick's thoughts were at once panicked - had he fallen asleep on night watch? His stomach dropped and he felt instantly intensely nauseous as he was ripped abruptly from his sleep. He awoke startled and panting heavily, the world around him spun fiercely; he wondered for a moment if he'd been knocked unconscious, but he soon recollected most of the details of the previous day. Erick began to catch his breath and he tried to swallow with an unbearably dry mouth. He felt awful. That damned Orcish wine.. so much for playing this cautiously.. He did remember as much as Vyarin leaving the gathering, his recollections became somewhat hazy after this event - he also remembered visiting Sinir at some point so, he must have still honoured his personal pledge to check on him later in the evening.. although Erick wondered if that rather looked like sometime earlier this morning.. What time was it anyway? Some of his company will have awoken him if he'd slept to an unreasonable hour, he was sure. A cheerful light seemed to be peering from between the exquisite fabrics guarding the window, although he had little desire to face it. Erick stirred his body with a groan, it felt heavy and he did not quite want to make it arise from the bed where he'd fallen asleep on top of the covers, dressed still in his finery.. to be fair, at least he'd retained enough sense in his inebriation to not simply slumber in the stable with Sinir - but he noted that his clothes were flecked with straw and he once again smelled of the horses which suggested he'd perhaps considered it. Eventually with great effort, the Jörda prince hauled himself from his prone position - the spinning was worse, but, he'd done this before. After calling an attendant to deliver him water, he made to refresh and prepare himself to meet with his advisors, which he hoped would not involve some kind of scolding for his.. miscalculated activities, he'd then likely make an attendance of some sort to breakfast; the thought of food making him feel simultaneously ravenous yet unwell.. this was going to be a tough morning.</s>	<\|message\|>Jinayah Altera Jin awoke in the morning with a mild groan. The morning sunlight was warming her skin, but it was also in her eyes. That light made her head start to throb, and she buried her head in her soft pillow for another moment more. "Ugh." Her mouth was dry and papery. While she had not participated in last night's drinking contest, she was unused to the regular wine. She'd been drinking from the silver cups all her life up until yesterday, so the real stuff was both a pain and a pleasure. After rising up and washing her face with the warm water the maids had provided, she did her usual stretches and pushups. It was important to keep the body limber. Sir Arnold was always fond of stating that 'danger could strike at any moment', to keep his knights on their toes. Jinayah always had this advice in the back of her head. Even though today was a different kind of battle, it would be good to keep it in mind. Once she was done exercising, she rang for a bath and clothing. The maids showed up promptly, with steaming, perfumed hot water, and a selection of gowns. Jin frowned, and sighed. Sulhana's words from yesterday were still ringing in her ears. "Ladies, please send my armor off to be buffed and shined. I will be wearing it this morning." A silence settled in the room. The eldest maid spoke up. She was in charge of all the others who assisted Jin in the mornings. "My lady, are you sure about that? You will be expected to dress for the occasion, and-" "Bianca." Jin interrupted with a word. "Yes, my lady?" Jin smiled warmly. "I will be wearing the armor. It's time to be me, instead of what other people think I should be." "But-" The smile dropped. Jin's eyes and voice went sharp, and she squared her shoulders. "I believe I issued an order, not a request." Her royal bearing shone through, and 'no' was no longer a possibility. "...y-yes, my lady! Right away!" The maids went back into action, and Jin relaxed again. She hated to pull rank like that, but sometimes it was necessary to get her point across. Hours later saw Jin bathed, brushed, and headed down the halls toward breakfast. The armor glittered in the morning sun, and fit like a dream. She stifled a yawn into her glove and wondered just what the reactions would be.</s>
<\|description\|>Jinayah Altera Age: 17 Bio: As the youngest of four, Jinayah has enjoyed some degree of freedom. She is a strange sort of princess, well-known for demanding boys' clothes since she was old enough to express it. While she will wear gowns on formal occasions, most of the time she can be found in specially tailored tunics and pants, down at target practice, or training in the yard with the knights. She is a bit on the spoiled side, which may be part of the reason she is allowed her freedoms and odd habits. Other: Jin looks very much like her mother, especially in the eyes. This has made her father avoid speaking to her lately, which hurts.</s> <\|message\|>Vyarin Kremazov Dawn broke, and Vyarin lay awake watching the square of sun descend upon his wall. His eye darted about, catching the corners of the chamber, and in his mind he took stock of the matters ahead of him. Yes, the letter from his father. He had just about forgotten, addled as he was by the early morning. Vyarin scrambled to his feet, and winced as he struck the bedside table with his foot. Would the noise have woken anyone? He can apologize to them later. Carefully, he cracked the seal and unfolded the message. It read as follows. "War threatens to return to the League," the message begins, without introduction or address. "Vyatka Prince of Vadai holds in his dungeon three spies resistant to torture. Suspicions say they come from Gilthan. Grazodon Prince of Perozord also reports raids coming from bandits of particular discipline and equipment. Your marriage has become more important than even before, as our retaliation would require an overwhelming force we do not possess. The heir to Astalia is Annalise of the clan Altera, distinct in her pale face and hair." By sun and moon, what a fool Vyarin had been! He nearly crushed the letter in his hand how frustrated with himself he was. She was the one princess he could not recall conversing with, not through the course of the entire night previous. He read on. "To ensure our will is made known, I have sent your uncle Tellos Prince of Logon in command of his entire retinue to follow in your travelling path. I trust him to arrange everything goes to our favour. He will arrive in three days." Oh no. This was bad. Vyarin threw the letter on the table and sat down on the bed to think. Though Prozdy held the power, there was no denying Logon's near-comparable might. The two worked closely in their youth, his father and his uncle, expanding the sphere of the clan Kremazov; violently and remorselessly until near half the principalities in the League had some tie of blood to that name. If Tellos was being sent to Astalia, it could only mean that his father meant to declare an ultimatum. Few paths forward now will not end in blood. Quickly, Vyarin had to destroy the message! He crumpled up the letter and stuffed it in a pocket. There must be one firepit in this palace somewhere. Truly, this has become a predicament, having to keep this secret from a host who has thus far been nothing but generous. Vyarin stood up, before awkwardly sitting back down and opening up his phrasebook to review his studies. He can't be making a mistake that could cost Prozdy with his tongue. Eventually, he made it out of the room and through the labyrinthine halls to arrive in the dining hall, where platters had been laid out for the morning. The princesses were present, as was their father, but he was the first of the suitors. He gave each of them a nod. "I-Is good day," he said, in thickly accented Astalian. "Is my pleasure . . . to join in this morning."</s> <\|message\|>Erick Erick's foolishly hopeful vision of slipping to breakfast without harassment was instantly shattered when he opened the door of his chamber - Grìmur, his council, was waiting for him with folded arms leaning back against the opposing wall of the corridor. "I am joyous the second son of Henrick lives" the robust man, certainly three times Erick's elder, whom was muscularly heavy-set and evidently battle-worn had an edge about the statement, perhaps which also reflected the prince's own notion that he was not the most preferable suitor. "It is regrettable that I am indeed alive and well" Erick responded in kind, flashing his eyebrows upwards - Grìmur knew how the prince felt about the arrangement which would render him little more than a figurehead to an alliance and certainly, the powers of Astalia would not see any of their daughters recklessly widowed, Erick knew he was to be pulled from the battlefield indefinitely and with that, any prospect to match his brother's prepotency. Grìmur huffed, shaking his head only a small fraction before he looked away, and back to the prince, "the first daughter seemed cordial with you I am led to believe, but you must not drink so much, a crown-prince who sleeps in next to his horse is embarrassing, Erick" he scolded with a low tone, the prince expressed a sharp outward breath but resisted rolling his eyes before he began making his way along the corridor, Grìmur proceeded to escort him, "son of Henrick, this is not optional for you, your behaviour must be in the interests of obtaining the best contract for Jörda", Erick's council continued to berate him, although, he was not wrong to do so - Erick really did get very drunk.. oh indeed if he ever came to learn of the dried sap he invariably did not travel without.. Erick dared not consider what his criticisms may be then.. The older man stopped Erick in his tracks for a few moments as he grasped his shoulder, persuading the young prince to turn to speak with him, Grìmur let out a deep sigh through his nose as he examined his face - Erick was already clearly rankled and wore a sullen expression. He'd be hung-over, too.. perhaps this was too much for the morning? "You make your sacrifice differently Erick" he began, seemingly softening he gripped at the arm of the young man and met his eyes, "but it too is for Jörda", Erick nodded lightly but looked away - he appreciated Grìmur's lie but it would never be the same, he knew. He turned to continue on his way to attend breakfast, and his council gave him a hefty pat of encouragement across the back of his shoulder, they then proceeded to make light-hearted albeit mundane conversation regarding their observations of Astalia's great city en route. Grìmur parted company with the prince shortly before he arrived at the hall, and the attending guards ushered Erick into the spacious room. There was a large table quite clearly suitable for hosting an extensive number of noble guests, however only one section was prepared and occupied by Astalia's royal family and the first suitor in attendance - the Prozdy prince, although curiously, there was one person wearing a glorious suit of armour, perhaps a specialised royal guard? As the Jörda prince drew closer to the table, he began to recognise the features of the youngest princess whom the previous night had been dusted with dirt. A shield-maiden, perhaps? Did she too lead her father's armies? He was both impressed and perplexed by the display. "Good morning" he finally exclaimed boldly, as he wasn't sure if he'd already lingered too long in silence distracted by the spectacle of Jinayah's armour. "Your Grace" he added with a bow of his head to King Harold before taking up a position at the table, at once remembering how particularly tender he felt - a light meal of fruit and dry bread ought to be safe. Erick sat opposite Vyarin's expansive figure, he met his eyes upon the man briefly to acknowledge him.</s>	<\|message\|>Jinayah Altera Jinayah was very pleased to meet Sulhana on the way to breakfast, before everyone else. Sulhana did not always tell the truth, but Jin would have known if the armor was a mistake by how smoothly she reacted to it. "Oh yes, Father is going to have a royal conniption. I'm ready for it. I'm very tired of hiding myself." She said with a prideful grin. They fell into step together, heading toward the dining hall. When Hana said she'd pluck the princes' eyes out for not finding her beautiful, she chuckled and shook her head. "It's not about the beauty, Hana. It's about the respect. Always has been." Then they entered, and she bowed to her father. "Good morning." She did her best to keep a smirk from her face as she locked eyes with the man. There was a battle of emotions behind his eyes, at least the ones she could read. Surprise as he took in the armor. Confusion as this was not her usual male clothing. A sudden flash of anger as he realized where it would have come from. She almost saw his mouth make to open, but by the end, it did not. Perhaps if they hadn't had guests, there would be an interrogation. Instead, there was a look of wan acceptance, and then distraction, as Jin finally settled at the table with a polite clanking of metal. Sulhana had given her pointers on how to read people's faces years ago. She said that those were the unspoken words, and that they often mattered more than what left the mouth. Jinayah had found this true. No one would outright say that she couldn't do these things. But their expressions certainly hinted at it. It was worst around the older nobles. Most of the time, new courtiers were confused. Shocked. Scandalized, even. Funnier, some of the younger nobles seemed amused, or even pleased. Especially the daughters. She was used to all of it, but she wondered just what level of reaction proper armor was going to get her. The princes were beginning to filter in now. She greeted Prince Vyarin with a little smile and nod. It seemed his Astalian had improved. Perhaps he'd studied even after the party? If so, good on him. Prince Erick was another story. She'd stopped him in his tracks – that, or the sun had. He did have quite a lot of wine last night. But she tilted her head in a very proud way as he too, sat. Now all they needed was Prince Alvaro, who she had yet to really meet besides the polite introduction.</s>
<\|description\|>Loreena Altera Age: 21 Bio: Loreena was the second child born to Harold and Tiana, a bit of a surprise so soon after the arrival of Annalise. She was a bit of the opposite of her elder sister, darker in hair and skin and also possessed a disdain for all things court related as she grew out of the nursery. She loved her books, often sneaking down into the library and reading long into the night. She devoured books like a starving man would a loaf of bread, and it was discovered that she possessed an eidetic memory, making her classes a breeze for her, though it seems like applying her knowledge to real life provided a challenge. Lore was also the first, and seemingly only, of her sister to show any skill in magic, swiftly coming under the tutelage of the royal mages. She is able to pick up a skill quickly, but mastering it takes time. Her most secret and ardent desire is to go on an adventure. To visit a far off land, to learn new magics from various teachers, and to write an adventure story of her own. For this reason, she is, perhaps, the most interested of her sisters in the plan their father laid out for them to marry one from a different kingdom. As long as he has books, or doesn't mind her building a library, and a sense of adventure, she will be content.</s> <\|message\|>Vyarin Kremazov From distantly behind him on the road, Vyarin can hear orders being shouted. The steady stomp of greaves in the dirt called out in waves, rising and falling. The column of grizzled Prozdy veterans, armoured and armed, had every simple merchant and traveler crossing them in the road scampering to the side of it to allow them passage. No doubt rumour followed the band of Prozdy men as they wandered from inn to inn, through village to village, bearing their combined arms with them. Could they be invaders, the vanguard of a much larger force come to pillage and raid? It was not for them to know, inevitably. These men are Vyarin's; men bound to defend him as if brothers. They were a prince's retinue, with which no true prince of the League would travel without. They who do tend to find themselves on the unfortunate end of an ambush brought on by a usurper. None of them could have predicted just how torturously hot the southern climate was. Did it ever snow down here, where great fields of grass grew, lush and deep green, where the trees stretched up straight into the sky, their leaves wide and flat as fans? Did this land know any hardship? Once the bearer of welcome warmth to chase away long nights, the sun had betrayed Vyarin's host in the night and now beat down on their weary bodies. One league turned into two under the blinding sun, and soon, one step turned into leagues. Occasionally, these great roads would pay host to a pack of mules, each carrying with them saddlebags of valuables. Other times, swift regiments of horse guards would pass by, exchanging brief but informative conversation with the party before going about their way. Neither of these luxuries were available to the Prozdy men. They would have to content themselves with their heavy stress-worn boots and their iron will to keep walking. Yet, it was not without waste, this forced pace they kept themselves to. At last, before them rose the walls of mighty Astalia's capital, built of yellow-brown stones, that reflected the afternoon sun beautifully, so seamless in its construction that they appear to have grown out of the ground rather than having been fashioned by masons. Above them rose points of shining light, as stars in the broad daylight, the helmets of the garrison soldiers. Behind those walls the peaks of spires and towers rose, thin and coloured in many bright tiles. They were not built to defend against siege. This was, no question, a land of finery and luxury, of stability and excess. The city itself seemed a bulwark against the sea, placed squarely upon a sheer cliff face at the foot of which waves lapped like dogs. So near they were, that its majesty may be observed, yet it was still unlike that they would actually reach those walls before evening. No good daydreaming about rest now; there was still a ways to go. The newcomers did not arrive unnoticed. As the column of men approached, more points of light congregated together at the great gate meeting the road. Was it that they were expecting a battle? A worrying thought, that their intentions be misinterpreted. As they drew near, Vyarin could finally take note of those polished helms, and of the men sitting beneath them. Their armour was fine, intricate patterns drawn into them that shimmered in light like the sea they guarded against. In their hands were crossbows and longswords, marvels of engineering by the standards of the League. One of them shouted a few sentences in the Astalian tongue at them. By the distance, Vyarin could not quite make sense of what they were saying; not that he would have understood much of it otherwise. He turned over his shoulder at the band and shouted an order. "Bring forth one who speaks the tongue!" His words rang out, and were repeated by those immediately behind him. There was some shuffling in the ranks, and one was pushed up to the front. In broken Astalian, the guard and the Prozdy warrior exchanged greetings, and assurances of peace. With some commotion, the gates began to crank open, and his loyal men began to shout and bang their spears on their shields. The ruler of this land will know of their coming.</s> <\|message\|>Jinayah Altera THWACK! From the back of the grand castle of Astalia, on the knights' target range, came the sturdy sound of an arrow hitting a target. Princess Jinayah, fourth and final in the line of succession, lowered her recurve bow and smiled. That arrow had hit dead center. Despite today being the end of her life as she knew it, her aim was as true as ever. That, at least, was comforting. With the smooth motion of a practiced archer, she nocked another arrow and let fly. The sea breeze hit it and it arced to the left, landing just to the side of her first shot. With a faint sigh, Jinayah lowered her weapon. She shut her eyes against the breeze and let it cool her. She'd been out since before the sun rose, and it was going to be a nice and warm day. Good weather for visitors. Visitors… It still made her stomach hurt to think of it. Slowly, she pulled the thick leather archery gloves from her hands, and sat herself against the cobblestone wall. She unclasped her rich plum purple cloak and folded it nearly across her arm. Perhaps if she started into the woods now, she'd be long gone before the foreign princes arrived. Even though the thought was extremely tempting, she would not abandon her sisters. They all had to stay strong. Even if they were going to lose what they valued most. Jinayah, for one, was going to miss these mornings. Nothing but the bow, the wind, and targets. Her father had been kind once, kind enough to have the crown tailors fashion her several sets of male clothes throughout her years. There had always been mutterings about her strange proclivities. When she had asked for a bow and to learn to use it, there had been complaints from various nobles. Luckily, her father heard none of them. The first day she showed up at the pages' practice area, confusion reigned. Jin had been seven then, just the same age as all the young boys hoping to make it to knighthood. However, there was one sympathizer – Knight Captain Theodore Arnold. He was the first person to treat Jin's wish seriously, and not as a passing fancy. He trained her day and night, helping to catch her up to the boys who had sword and bow as soon as they could walk. When she stumbled in last after a footrace, there had been laughter all around. When she smacked her face with the bowstring, there had been jeers. When she lost a swordfight, she was told to go back to her knitting. Nevertheless, she persisted. Jin put everything into her training. While her sisters learned needlepoint and singing and other "feminine arts", she practiced with the bow and blade. Soon, she could hit a target at 100 paces, dead center. Soon, she could win the footraces. Soon, no one could find a more graceful fighter. Soon enough, they all took the princess quite seriously. And now, all those years building up the respect and friendship of most of the young knights in the castle were all for naught. She would be leaving sooner or later, with her new husband. When the news reached the knights, they had thrown her a small party. She had cried, like a girl, to her own embarrassment. At the end of it, Sir Theodore gave her a custom set of armor. It fit her like a glove, and left her wondering just how much he'd had to bribe the royal tailors for her measurements. That was safely hidden in a secret groove in the stones behind her wardrobe. Hopefully she would get use of it before she had to leave for good. The sun was starting to peek over the trees now, and Jin knew her time was up. She headed back inside the palace slowly, taking several hidden routes that Sulhana had found ages ago. Still, her ladies in waiting were all… well, waiting for her when she entered her room. Also waiting was a steaming hot bath and the perfumed soaps she hated. Still, she was dunked in the bath and scrubbed clean. They clucked and fussed over her calluses and muscles, implying that her future husband would not find her soft enough for the night. She wasn't fully sure she cared. All too soon, she was headed downstairs to her father and sisters, in a gown the dusky pink of a rose, and about as soft. She smelled faintly of roses too, and the scent wrinkled her nose. She smoothed out her expression, and dipped into a low curtsy in front of her father and older sisters that had arrived. "Good morning."</s>	<\|message\|>Loreena Altera Loreena had been up since the gray light of dawn. She knew it was Uriah's favorite time of day, before the sun illuminated the colors of the world, and life would begin to rouse and stir. The Court Mage would be found in the gardens at this hour, and Loreena herself was in the kitchen, warming a pot of tea for them. Today was a big day, the castle all in an flurry of preparation and excitement. Despite all of the pomp and circumstance, her teacher refused to release her from her lesson for the day. If she was to apply herself to magic, it needed to be a lifelong passion and pursuit. Loreena had shown no disappointment in his decision, despite his gruff mannerisms. Uriah had been her teacher and companion since she was 14 and her abilities had begun to manifest. He had tested all of the princesses as they came of age, but as of yet, only Lore had shown any aptitude for it. He had taken her education very seriously, and had done his best to impress on her the seriousness of the power she could wield. She had been an apt student, but magic was hard to master, and it had taken nearly a year for her just to find a focus she resonated with, and another half year after that before she could begin to weave the magic into the web of spells. Uriah had been infinitely patient with h, pushing her when she felt lazy or overconfident, and comforting her when she grew frustrated and discouraged. Through it all, he never lost his temper, was ever patient, and always emotionally solid. Lore brought the tray of tea out to the garden where he sat, meditating, preparing to greet the dawn. The older man smiled as he saw his young charge, gratefully accepting a cup of the steaming brew as the princess took a seat next to him. "A big day, milady. You meet a potential husband in a few hours. How does that make you feel?" The woman tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Nervous....excited....uncertain. I have never thought about a future with someone else. I don't know what to expect, nor if I should even expect anything at all. What if none like me? What if I make a mistake and embarrass my family? What if things don't work out?..." "And what if the sun turns purple and the birds swim and the fish fly...?" Uriah cut in, the absurdity of the statement bringing a smile to Loreena's face. He continued. "You have never needed anyone before, and you do not need anyone to continue. That being said, having a companion for your future can be a comforting and adventurous event. Yes, there is a business aspect to this, a chance for something strong and powerful to come of this, but you have a sensible mind and a romantic heart, milady. Do not waste it on someone who will not walk beside you as friend as well as lover." Loreena sipped her cup. "Is that why you never married, Uriah?" The older man chuckled. "I am married, child. To my work, to my learning, my teaching, and my magic. I love what I have learned, and I know it as intimately as any lover. I cannot expect everyone to walk the path I have, but I am content with my books. You, I sense, will not be content until you have filled volumes of books with your own stories. Now come, we will have your lesson early so you may be with your family when the guests arrive." A few hours later saw Loreena being the last of her sisters to enter the meeting room, Uriah in tow. "Sorry I'm late!" She said, bustling in, greeting each sister and their father with a kiss to the cheek before taking her place along with the others.</s>
<\|description\|>Loreena Altera Age: 21 Bio: Loreena was the second child born to Harold and Tiana, a bit of a surprise so soon after the arrival of Annalise. She was a bit of the opposite of her elder sister, darker in hair and skin and also possessed a disdain for all things court related as she grew out of the nursery. She loved her books, often sneaking down into the library and reading long into the night. She devoured books like a starving man would a loaf of bread, and it was discovered that she possessed an eidetic memory, making her classes a breeze for her, though it seems like applying her knowledge to real life provided a challenge. Lore was also the first, and seemingly only, of her sister to show any skill in magic, swiftly coming under the tutelage of the royal mages. She is able to pick up a skill quickly, but mastering it takes time. Her most secret and ardent desire is to go on an adventure. To visit a far off land, to learn new magics from various teachers, and to write an adventure story of her own. For this reason, she is, perhaps, the most interested of her sisters in the plan their father laid out for them to marry one from a different kingdom. As long as he has books, or doesn't mind her building a library, and a sense of adventure, she will be content.</s> <\|message\|>Jinayah Altera Jinayah stood politely in the great hall, waiting for the ceremony to be over. It may have looked like she was bored on the outside, but inside, she was having quite the panic. She had yet to speak a word to the foreign princes. Gifts! Why hadn't she thought of that? Then again, it's not like she was one to win over people with fancy presents. Her preferred method of making friends was finding common ground and matching over that. So what if said common ground had been arguments over the best swordsmith and one actual duel over the reputation of the best bowyer in the business? What was she going to do? For the first time in her life, Jin felt afraid of who she was. Forget falling in love; that fairy-tale nonsense was bound to be impossible. What if none of these men would simply put up with her? What if her natural inclination just scared them off? Then her father would be down one crucial alliance, and there could be an easy weakness against the growing threat of the empire! She had more or less accepted her fate as one of her father's "pieces on the board". But now she was rethinking things. What if everything was ruined? Because of her? AGAIN? The ceremony ended at some point and people began to drift away. She also left in a distracted manner, her feet moving on their own, and her head adrift in thought. It was no hidden secret in her heart that she felt responsible for her mother's death. Her siblings had treated her a bit differently in their early years. Sulhana's cutting remarks had lasted the longest. Unfortunately, some of them had been memorized in the corner of her mind, and burned like a fresh cut. Her father, gods bless him, had done his best to connect with her. But to look at your child and to only see the face of the one you loved, gone because of that same child… It was no wonder they never spoke anymore. She understood it plain – her birth and Mother's death had put them on this path. Maybe if Mother had been alive, there would have been a different solution to alliances. The four of them wouldn't be in this situation. Maybe if she had never been born at all – Jin took in a sharp breath, feeling her eyes swim. Suddenly, she just felt so out of place. Her chest seemed to buckle in on itself. The candles in the hall seemed to swirl around her, the very stone closing in. She struggled to breathe. Outside, she had to get outside. Luckily, she was nothing if not fast, and her strong legs carried her to the nearest exit past the Court of Flowers. It seemed she was right back where she had started, in the training yard. In her ballgown and regalia, she probably looked absolutely ridiculous. She strode to the shed where the training blades were kept, feeling her chest start to loosen the moment she laid hands on the sword set aside for her. Familiar steps drew her into the sword dance, and she quickly lost herself in the motions. She would go the party, and soon, but first she had to calm down, her own way.</s> <\|message\|>Erick Once the introductions and brief mingling came to an end, Erick was sure it was now the appropriate time to leave as did his council concur; they had travelled not too far but the remainder of their journey had taken them from daybreak that morning - enough as such that he sought to refresh himself and his company also would be of a similar mindset. The invitation to The Court of Flowers seemed by all accounts as though it was to be a private affair, Erick knew his men, his council, could not follow him there and he anticipated the event would certainly be a world apart from the halls and tents full of warriors, drinking and rough-housing as to which he was far more accustomed. The Jörda prince had somewhat limited associations with women too, and the kind that might have circulated the camps were unlike this kind, the wholesome women of Jörda also, were unlike this kind - he wasn't sure what to expect but, he wasn't the only one he supposed. Erick had requested he'd be directed to his chamber, his company too, which was modest in number, had some accommodations in the palace grounds and they'd dispersed to eat, drink and rest. "Try to remember, son of Henrick, why you are here" said his council, a much older man with dark hair heavily dusted with grey, it was loosely braided as was his medium length beard; he had spoke in the Jörda tongue, gripping Erick's shoulder and giving the prince a firm, intense look, before he then patted it heftily. The man passed Loreena's gift back to Erick, raising his eyebrows for a second and pulling a smile before making his leave for refreshment, the prince watched him as he disappeared along the empty corridor. When the Jörda prince finally found himself alone in his room, it came as great relief, although he knew it couldn't last as he'd have to prepare himself for the evening - his belongings had already been delivered here. Erick sat heavily on the bed, letting a deep sigh from his nose, he wondered exactly how soon the marriages were to take place and how long too before he (presumedly) would return to Jörda with one of them, or were the alliances to stay centrally within Astalia for the time being? He hoped this would not be the case. He played with the small box in his palms, pulling a thoughtful pout before he opened it slowly, producing the deep yellow jewel; it appeared almost as liquid gold when the light rebounded upon it, the jewel enrobed within the black, grey and golden ribbon reflected the colours of his house, it was truly beautiful.. 'a symbol of loyalty and trust', had the Princess Loreena meant those words, or was it the talk of court? In any case, Jörda needed the military clout of Astalia, and perhaps some mages, too. Erick, after a short time of contemplation, refreshed and readied himself for the evening to come, for he likely smelled of the horses, speaking of which, he'd be sure to check on Sinir later this evening. The prince had swapped his blue cloak for one much lighter in weight, it had no fur but a detailed golden trim, this was slung and pinned over one shoulder with a formal appearance, and he'd changed into a similar outfit although he'd removed the quilted tunic and wore only a light coloured, mid-length long sleeved shirt, belted, it had some fine and subtle embroidery at its front fastenings at the chest - it was fairly simple but more comfortable attire, as Astalia was comparatively warmer. Erick still wore the variety of heavy golden rings, he had a dense cuffed golden bangle of a serpentine design on his right wrist, whilst on the left a robust leather bracelet with beaded silver charms was wrapped firmly with a few rotations before it was tied, Loreena's jewel was compact in size that it could be woven and secured into the bracelet, and presented itself as the most illustrious charm amongst the adornments. The Jörda prince now ready to attend was escorted by an Astalian attendant who led the prince without a word through the maze (and magnificence) of the palace before finally slowing to a halt, they directed him along a hall to the door to the court. Erick arrived in time to see the half-orc prince linger for a few moments before moving on into the courtyard, he could hear the noise of the powerful waves reverberate through the stone. He made his way to follow in the wake of the Afdan prince - into the mild evening air and the setting sun bouncing around a warm, dream-like glow within the opulent surroundings of the courtyard.</s>	<\|message\|>Loreena Altera With the pleasantries done for the moment, the princes and princesses went their separate ways for a time, perhaps to reconvene later at Sulhana's behest. Uriah followed her to her quarters, but remained in the antechamber while Lore continued on to her bedroom. She didn't know what to make of the initial meeting, but her mind was already spiraling with thoughts and possibilities. "I can feel your energy all the way out here, child," came Uriah's gentle voice. "What's your judgement of the princes so far?" Loreena was busy removing some of the ceremonial trappings of her station, opting for something more comfortable and casual now. "Oh no, you're not ensnaring me in that test, Uriah. Not this time." The older man chuckled. "Fair enough. First impressions, then?" Upon hearing the princess made a noncommittal grunt in response, he grinned wider. "Be honest, girl. I'm your teacher, not a tattler." Lore sighed as she sat in front of her mirror and brushed out her hair. She gathered her thoughts, Uriah patiently waiting for her response. "Dro Vyarin seems a strong man. It is that strength I see reaching for the crown of Astalia, he has eyes only for Lisse. Though whether that's his own ambition or that of his family, I do not know." She gave a humored snort. "Alvaro I feel I could sit across from Jiny and their expressions would be the same. Neither want to do this, and I hope at least they might find themselves to be kindred spirits in that regard. "As for Erick and Gil, both seem similar in situation, but for very different reasons. Gil for the fact this is simply not his home, it's so different. And Erick... because I think he feels he is not the right one to be here. In his mind, perhaps he feels it should be another." A tenderness came into her voice. "He was the only one who seemed to show true gratitude for my gift... I appreciate it." Uriah picked up on the sweetness in her tone and hummed contently. "You do realize though, if he were to choose you, and you accepted, how close to the Empire you would be... It is Jörda's strength that currently keeps them at bay." The princess was quiet for a moment before she continued. "I know that, Uriah. But why should I think myself any better than my sisters to not take on that danger? Lisse is the heart of Astalia, the crown is hers and there is none more deserving. Jiny will go on to be some amazing warrior and grand bardic ballads will be sung of her heroism. Sulhana will own a piece of every single person who ever draws breath..." "And you, Loreena? What of Astalia's mage princess?" Loreena came out from her bedchamber then, dressed in a simple gown of cerulean fabric, the blue topaz-like jewel that acted as her focus for her magic hung by a ribbon at her throat. Her hair was braided softly, a few curled strands escaping rebelliously. "There is no crown for me, Uriah, unless I marry into one. I can barely do more than parlor tricks for another decade or so until I get stronger with my magic. I would be content to make a difference in the world of one person, and spend my days outside of Astalia, learning what magic the rest of the world holds for me." She looked up at the older mage curiously. "If...if I am ever to leave with my husband at any point...what will become of you?" Uriah faced his pupil, a fatherly smile on his face. "My duty is to the mage princess of Astalia. Not the king, not the kingdom, the princess. I will remain faithful to my duty until my charge no longer has need of me." He straightened his robes. "Now come, let us go make nice with the others once more before we're late...again." And with Loreena laughing, they hurried down the halls and towards the Court of Flowers.</s>

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<\|description\|>Lady Meowlune Race: Common black cat. She can talk, but other than that, she is just a cat. Job: Lady is not looking for a job. She is looking for someone who will feed her regularly, scratch her belly from time to time, and provide a warm place for her to nap all day. If the times are dire and someone actually requires her to work for food and shelter, she is able to hunt rats and other pests. But she truly hates it, because, well, rodents are disgusting. Background: While she likes to mess with people, telling them that she is an ancient Moon goddess suffering from a terrible curse, the truth is most likely much simpler - that when she was just a tiny black kitten, she was a target of a magical experiment, or perhaps a spell gone wrong. Nobody knows for sure. Lady herself definitely prefers the ancient goddess version. Lady had lived in Grada for as long as she could remember, staying with a very nice old lady for the past few months. Miss Binklesthorpe was an ideal landlady - being old and frail she was always cold, so there was a fire burning in the fireplace all the time. She never forgot to fill Lady's bowl and her gnarled old fingers gave the best scratches, right in that sweet spot behind the ears. Sadly, Miss Binklesthorpe passed, and her son wasn't very happy about feeding the 'useless ball of fur', so he kicked Lady out. Home: Having just arrived to the town, she is accepting home offers, ready to choose the most generous one.</s> <\|message\|>Sweinfred Haxe Burgermeister. Mayor Haxe --- With a wave of goodbye and a well-wish of "Have a nice morning and thank you for your ever-stellar work," the mayor turned away from the moth-girl and addressed the Sangakuan. "Well, shall the three of us--" He then noticed that the other human had left them. "My, where did Ms. von Eisenberg go?" The cacophony from a taverny building a stonetoss away drew his beady eyes and widened them greatly with even greater surprise. "Oh, Makers - what has Ms. Firetail found this time?" He dropped down onto all four cloves, turned briefly to nod for Yoshina to follow. "Oh, do forgive me. We are going this way!" The little pigman then assumed an elegant gait, though his steps carried a slight hint of urgency. He oinked pensively to himself and occasionally lifted a front foot to pat his wig into place. The little street was virtually the only street in the town with paves, and it essentially led in two directions: east and west. It wasn't easy to get lost here, but the mayor couldn't very well leave visitors to figure out where everything was on their own. His porcine stomach growled. The scent of rolls was thick on the air. @Lucky</s> <\|message\|>Shina Shina sighed with relief when Minnow suggested a beer, sure it might be considered a bit early for a drink, but after what she had (or thought?) she had seen, she was left with a mix of emotions. Flashbacks came to her in waves, of her family, of her Kingdom. She shook her head and looked up at the kindly elf that had served her over the years, even her face looked worried. 'Thanks Minnow. I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me, i'm not sure what i'm seeing is real or not! Perhaps i've been working too long over that forge. I need a break I think." As she was talking, that familiar soft breeze came over her and soft paws landed on her shoulder. Aw hey there Lapoo, sorry if i made you worry about me, I just thought i saw something ..odd...about that new visitor. But it can't be can it?' Lapoo rubbed her chubby cheeks into Shina's and squeaked softly, well if she wasn't worried then maybe it was all a dream after all. As she drank her drink , she also realised that the young man was still looking at her, and she realised how rude she might have sounded. Putting her drink down she lifted a hand out to him... I am sorry again about earlier, my name is Shina, the local blacksmith here. I would be happy to help with any of your repairs or forging needs. And this little fluff ball is Lapoo' Lapoo looked his way and simply blinked, then took off back out of the, Shina assumed towards another bush of limberries. Lapoo was getting a bit too fond of those! @WolfredWolf</s> <\|message\|>Minnow Dessalt Four "It's of no problem," Minnow sighed after pouring the foamy drink. The elf took a seat opposite of Grey and used her foot to kick another away from the table for Shina to plop into. Looking very much like her own customer now, Minnow let her forehead thunk against the table, her silvery hair splaying over the surface. Her muffled voice came, "Oh Shina, I really need to get that help… this is too much for just me." Peeking up, her nocturnal eyes studied Grey's face. "Do you need a job?"</s> <\|message\|>Yoshina Shizue She first tied her horse up to a nearby tree, and grabbed her wrapped Naginata as well as her bag of coins, before quickly rejoining the porcine Mayor to the tavern. It wasn't the walk itself that was interesting to her, but more so the fact that the building for breakfast astounded her. The tavern where the Buta-Ningen brought her to was a unique building, A mixture of thatched roofing, plaster, and stone. Assembled in such a manner that befits the western architecture she has seen arriving in Struq. It might seem typical for the inhabitants of this village, but Yoshina could only marvel at the small things during her travels. The great kings and the country's armies are impressive and all, but it is the customs and traditions of the land she visited that fascinated her the most. And it seems like the interior of the tavern is just as interesting as the outside part. "Omoshiroi." She said quietly. Marveling at the raucous atmosphere and general liveliness of the tavern, the most interesting part of everything though, was the glasses that she saw people drinking out of. Mostly some form fo ale but some of them are drinking water from the glass. She has never seen a clearer glass, nearly completely translucent. Yoshina was a bit overwhelmed by the sights, sounds and smells of the tavern, and she quietly took a seat at a corner of the tavern. Already putting her Polearm right next to her. She motions the Buta-Ningen to accompany her. "Oi! Over here!" "Now, let's see. Croogal Eggs and Zaft Soup right?" She asked. Curious what the tavern has to offer her in terms of food. "I guess I'll defer judgement to you." She said, waiting patiently for the Buta-Ningen to order some stuff. In the meanwhile, she could only stare as some chaos was unfolding between a Tanuki-Onna and a Western Yosei by the looks of it, the Yosei offering the Tanuki some beer and she reluctantly calming down. She dozed off when the Tanuki-Onna was warning them about some dragon or something. But with the Red Haired woman seemingly joining in the fun in teasing her, she could only stare and see the commotion draw down. And being visibly interested in the commotion. She slowly took off from her seat, leaving the Buta-Ningen for a while before approaching the trio of the Elf, Raccoon and Dragon-Lady. "Hey uhh." She introduced herself, bowing out of respect. "I've got a seat in the corner where you can perhaps calm down and enjoy some breakfast for the day? I think the Tanuki-Onna here might need it the most." She finished, gesturing at the Raccoon. @RedPandaGamer@AdorableSaucer@Goldeagle1221</s> <\|message\|>She may be addressed as Queen Victoria Elizabeth Louise Maria Dahlia @goldeagle1221 The end of Grey's tail continued to twitch while he metaphorically smoothed his ruffled feathers. His mood was still soured and he almost wanted to pay and leave, but no. Things were calming down. He took a deep breath and forced his tail to still. "Apology accepted," he said, not having much else to say on the subject. He sipped on some of his water and set into his meal at a calm pace, recalling his table manners he rarely had to use on the road. At the tavern keeper's unexpected question, he stopped, blinking. It took him a moment to form an answer. "Unfortunately, I'm only here temporarily... Maybe a few days. And I don't expect I'll have much free time while I'm here." Travelling with a Royal Alligator was just about a full time job. Her majesty couldn't manage the many things she needed to without hands... Or being able to fit through doorways and do shopping and run errands. He had no clue how much wealth his mother had squirreled away- when in a town, she wanted to spend and splurge on niceties and luxuries, but once they were on the road, it was all camping and hunting. And they didn't always get to stay in towns very long. He'd go in ahead of her to try and get all of the necessities done before his mother inevitably wanted to see the place for herself. Sometimes it went well... but not typically. She was a well behaved and dignified woman, but unfortunately, her appearance often struck a much stronger first impression. Her pride and refusal to run from an attack meant he was often forced into very uncomfortable situations. He was surprised that word of her somehow didn't tend to spread much. He mentally worked on his list of errands for the day. He'd be picking up the meat and bones from the butcher later on. He'd see if he could find a cobbler for a new pair of boots. He needed some herbs and ingredients to make more tooth paste. He needed to track down a curio or jewelery shop to find his mother a gift.... "Say, do you know where I could buy some of these croogal eggs raw?" His mother did love eggs... The bigger the better. Oh, and that's right... It would be best if he could track down whoever the mayor was before his mother's visit to give them fair warning. That usually improved the odds of how well her visits went. "Also, could I be directed to the mayor?"</s>	<\|message\|>Lady Meowlune The merchant's wagon rattled down the bumpy road, and the clattering sound woke Lady up. Have they been on their way again? What part of the day was it? Ah, morning, right. Last night she snuck out of her hiding spot - a perfect comfy place between bolts of soft cloth, hidden under a thick sheet. Quietly... --Like a ghost!-- Quiet like a ghost, she moved around the merchant's camp… --No, wait, aren't ghosts white? I was… like a shadow. Living darkness. A creature of the night!-- Sigh. The majestic creature of the night quietly moved around the merchant's camp, stealing bits of food from sleeping humans. It was nothing fancy, certainly not the fresh Xandalian eels she was used to, but hunger is hunger. After at least partially satisfying her needs, the living darkness crawled back into her hiding spot and fell asleep. It was just a few days since they left the city of Grada. They passed on a few villages on the way, but none of them really caught Lady's interest. What life could a cat like her have in a farming settlement? Spend her days protecting the grain storages, hunting mice and rats and other nasty rodents? --Eww.-- No, that was definitely not the life she imagined for herself. The bumpy road got better and better, indicating they were coming close to civilization. Lady curiously peeked from beneath the sheet covering the wagon. It was definitely better than the last village they passed through. So many interesting scents - mostly humans, of course, but many other creatures as well, some of them completely unknown to Lady. It was certainly worth investigating. The merchant parked the wagon in a small town square and went away, most likely looking for a mayor to get a permit to set up a stall for the day. She could look around all day and still be ready to hitch her ride in case the place turned out to be just another dump. The black cat crept out of her hiding place, running across the street and jumping up on a fence pole. It was always safer to have the high ground. Her whiskers kept twitching as she sniffed the air around her, trying to identify each scent to see what she was dealing with here. The smells coming from a local inn were especially distracting, but a lot of people seemed to be gathered there and Lady preferred to avoid crowds. --Humans are clumsy and keep stepping on my paws. Wait, what is THAT?-- Catching a glimpse of a sudden movement in the grass behind the fence, the cat froze, her eyes squinting at the location. Soundlessly, she jumped down and snuck towards her prey, her body so close to the ground that only the tips of her ears were visible above the grass. Perhaps it was a bird? Lady didn't really love raw food, but birds were somewhat acceptable. Fish were better, but who would jump into cold water to catch them? Her body wiggled, ready to pounce, and she jumped on her prey, claws and teeth ready. It was a dry leaf. Being in a hunting mood anyway, she kept scratching and biting it until it turned into a pile of tiny pieces on the ground. One dead leaf neutralized. --You are welcome, townsfolk.-- The grass was full of morning dew which brushed off on Lady's fur, getting her quite wet. Smirking uncomfortably, she jumped back up on the fence pole, elegantly traversed to the nearest building, and climbed to the roof. It was a nice observing position, plus the rising sun would have her dry in no time.</s>
<\|description\|>Lady Meowlune Race: Common black cat. She can talk, but other than that, she is just a cat. Job: Lady is not looking for a job. She is looking for someone who will feed her regularly, scratch her belly from time to time, and provide a warm place for her to nap all day. If the times are dire and someone actually requires her to work for food and shelter, she is able to hunt rats and other pests. But she truly hates it, because, well, rodents are disgusting. Background: While she likes to mess with people, telling them that she is an ancient Moon goddess suffering from a terrible curse, the truth is most likely much simpler - that when she was just a tiny black kitten, she was a target of a magical experiment, or perhaps a spell gone wrong. Nobody knows for sure. Lady herself definitely prefers the ancient goddess version. Lady had lived in Grada for as long as she could remember, staying with a very nice old lady for the past few months. Miss Binklesthorpe was an ideal landlady - being old and frail she was always cold, so there was a fire burning in the fireplace all the time. She never forgot to fill Lady's bowl and her gnarled old fingers gave the best scratches, right in that sweet spot behind the ears. Sadly, Miss Binklesthorpe passed, and her son wasn't very happy about feeding the 'useless ball of fur', so he kicked Lady out. Home: Having just arrived to the town, she is accepting home offers, ready to choose the most generous one.</s> <\|message\|>Yoshina Shizue @Goldeagle1221 A firetail, so that's what they call themselves here. Admittedly Yoshina was ignorant of the customs of the people in this land, but alright then. Perhaps calling these people firetails is appropriate for the situation. Man, all that discussion is making her even more hungry, and, staring at the Pig person, very busy and still looking at the menu. Yoshina decided to take the initiative. "Umm, madam? Can I get the croogal eggs and Zaft soup please? Oh, and perhaps any tea you have available" She asked the night elf. "I've been hearing people praising those two foods ever since I entered this village, might as well get some myself." She then proceeded to take some gemstones from her purse and give it to her. "I assume that these gemstones would be more than sufficient? I have coins, but they're Sangakuan mintage and probably not applicable here." Turning her head back to the firetail, and hearing her offer. Yoshina smiled at her offer. "Yes, that would be great, but unfortunately I don't have any coins of the local mintage that I can pay you for. I need to do some jobs that might earn me some local coin, perhaps help an errand or two. I might need to ask people around the tavern though, perhaps you know some jobs I can take?"</s> <\|message\|>Shina @Forsythe @Goldeagle1221 Shina looked at the gems that Yoshina had pulled out and grinned 'I'm sure I can take some of those gems for the work, I have a friend of a friend who can convert them for me. Besides, you never know if they might be useful when trading outside of this town. Now, in terms of jobs, I know Minnow here is looking for some help, poor thing struggles from time to time so i'm sure she'd appreciate any help she can get. Um...sometimes the local farmers need help picking fruit, I know limberries are ripe for picking now. Otherwise, you can always check out our town board which sometimes has jobs on it' Shina finished her bun and drink, she felt stuffed; after all, she had already had breakfast this morning! She suddenly realised how long she had spent away from the workshop and that work wasn't going to magically do it itself. 'I am so sorry my friends but I must make my leave. I am sorry again for the disruption I caused' she looked to the dragon lady with an apologetic sigh 'By all means, please visit my workshop and I will happily repair any of your weapons before you leave.' Shina brought her empty glass and plate to Minnow.. 'My dear friend, thank you for your custom as always, i promise to pay you back soon. I have some work that should be coming, with good pay.' She shook Minnow's hand warmly and strode out of the inn and back to her workshop.</s> <\|message\|>Human disguise: Margaret von Eisenberg Taraah eyed the Firetail with suspicion. Granted, noone liked to ralk about something like losing their family, but that wasn't where the dragon thought Sheena was skimming the truth. It was the fact that for a smith, her hand went to the blade all too easily. She would watch this one. The other one though, a princess? Ahhh, that brought back memories. And an exotic one at that! Than again, carrying a polearm around with the confidence she did and a physique to match knowing how to use it was as good an indication as any that instead of ransom, she would have gotten a few new scars. "Ohayōgozaimasu, hime-chan." She replied with a slight smirk. "It has been a while since I have been in the presence of royalty. I believe it was the current king's aunt? They didn't miss her too much, didn't want to pay much for her return." She grinned, fishing a ring out of her money bag. "Great conversationalist though, avid reader and most excellent harp player. I pitied her fate so much I gave her treasure and sent her on her way." She recalled. "Anyway, I can provide for you for a day if you share a few tales of the dragons of your own land. I hear they are quite different from my kind." She leaned forward with a gaze hungering for knowledge, which swayed towards the other person at the table. "Perhaps miss Sheena would be willing to accomodate us for the night for a favor or two? Have you ever forged with dragonfire?" She wiggled her eyebrows just as the firetail turned to leave, "I am also... Nevermind, maybe later." She paused. Her black flight heritage was a touchy subject. @Kumbaris</s> <\|message\|>Shina As Shina went to leave she heard the dragon lady mention staying at her workshop. She had barely enough room for herself let alone two other people, one of which she had to remember being a dragon! But her panda ears twitched at the word 'dragonfire'. Damn it she loved her trade and any chance to try a new way of forging was too good to miss! I'm sorry but my workshop isn't big enough. The inn might have room though...right Minnow?! Shina shouted over to Minnow who looked swamped. I have some stables behind my workshop that would provide room. They are clean as my horse is put on pasture. Although I don't feel like a princess should stay there. But I would love to try dragonfire at the forge. @Forsythe [Goldeagle1221]</s> <\|message\|>D'Artagnan Riverwood Cross D'Artagnan Riverwood Location: The Road To Lorenstad D'Artagnan rubbed the back of his neck, he did not think of himself as a very good fighter. What self defence he does know, is mostly used to protect himself. "Again you seem like good folks, and I would rather have run into you then some thief trying to rob me of everything including my clothing." Looking over towards the young boy with a big smile, the mention of the name Jango Riverwood gave him quite a bit of nostalgia. " I mostly venture to where historical artifacts are, and bring them to the museum for preservation. And I know Jango Riverwood, he is my father although his real name is Alexander. Jango was just a nickname that stuck." Having a wave of good memories of his father telling him of his many adventures as a child. "Have you heard of his venture into the dwarven tombs filled with goblins, trying to retrieve an ancient dwarven tomb?"He asked the child, wondering if he had heard of that story. He stopped for a moment feeling idotic for indulging the child's questions. Feeling a bit more comfortable around the group of men, they did not seem like bad people that would try to rob D'Artagnan of his newly acquired artifact. Pulling out the dagger from his coat pocket, the bright green blade shining brightly in the sun. The group could make out some orcish words etched into the blade. "I found this in an old orcish tomb, I had to convince the elder to not use my hide as a rug in exchange for participating in a cleansing ritual." He quickly put away the dagger back into his coat pocket, so that it did not fall out of his hands. "Grandline Isles? I have not been there in quite some time, what kind of cargo were you transporting from there if i may ask?"</s> <\|message\|>She may be addressed as Queen Victoria Elizabeth Louise Maria Dahlia The gigantic mostrous creature followed the cat with her violet eyes and chuckled lightly. "Not to worry dear, not to worry." She sat down away from the firepit this time, perfectly aware that water coming off of her would make it difficult to use the thing to cook. "My boy won't mind at all. It's still plenty enough for him... He's so small." She sighed, imagining just how tiny and adorable her son was. "Do you live around here, darling? It's such a lovely area..." It was always so deliteful to meet another who walked on four legs gifted with speech. She did her best to seem casual and not at all threatening. Unfortunately, her face wasn't flexible at all like a human's. Her grin of sharp teeth was rather permanently fixed.</s> <\|message\|>Rudolph Admoss --- Tags: @Forsythe@RedPandaGamer@Kumbaris@Goldeagle1221 --- Just as the half-elf was just starting to enjoy the cool breeze and the sight of woodland creatures he felt a great disturbance in the Weave. Something with massive magical energy just suddenly appeared out of the blue and just as quickly disappeared. Rudolph let out a breath he didn't even realize he was keeping. "Ezaloth's warty ass, what in the world was that?" The wizard said, bewildered out of his mind. It was akin to a massive boulder crashing into a placid lake but only producing a ripple of a pebble before completely disappearing. It made no sense. He was still quite a distance away from the village. But something that powerful was somewhere in the village and, Makers damn his soul to the Void, if he didn't do something about it. Lorenstad and all its inhabitants may be in grave danger for all he knew about that unknown phenomenon. The wizard shut his eyes and focused solely on the magical energies of the world around him and, despite the unknown phenomenon's relatively quick appearance, the mark it left on the weave was slower to return to normal. Re-opening his eyes he locked his eyes upon the last known location of the anomaly. "The Other Mine? Why there?" Regardless of his confusion, it needed to be investigated. He wished that he brought his wand along the trip as he could have more effectively and efficiently channeled his magic. But an emergency like this needed immediate action. A determined look was plastered on the half-elf's face as he cast a spell to give his steps the extra boost they needed if he were to arrive in such short notice. Viasýni. As the words left his mouth, the underside of his boots gained a bright teal glow. Taking a runner's stance on the cobbled road, Rudolph bolted off with the speed that could put a racing horse to shame. The planned 15 minute stroll turned into a half minute's sprint. It was very effective. Maybe a little too much so as he actually failed to estimate the stop time he needed to prevent crashing into the establishment itself. In a split second decision between a conveniently open window and a very sturdy looking wall, Rudolph barreled through the window and straight into an open broom closet. A plume of dust burst out of the room as the, now dusty, wizard stumbled out with wooden bucket covering his head. Hardly the entrance fitting for him, but better than splattered on a wall. " cough cough Sorry, Minnow. cough cough Put it on my tab...I'll pay for the broken brooms cough cough I swear." Rudolph says as he pulls the bucket off his head, dusting himself off as best he can, and regaining most of his composure. He took a quick look around the common room, he noted that there were new faces in Lorenstad. "Apologies for the intrusion. I was just investigating a strange magical phenomenon that originated here. I hope I didn't spoil your visit to TOM and Lorenstad."</s>	<\|message\|>Lady Meowlune Lady was surprised how friendly the crocodile talked, given she had stolen from her. But perhaps one fish was really not such a big deal for such a big creature. She did however notice the mention of 'her boy'. Was there a second animal lurking around? Even a small one could eat her in one bite. A careful look around the area didn't reveal anything else, even the river seemed empty, its calm water surface only occasionally disturbed by a fish jumping up to catch some insect. She liked how the crocodile called her dear and darling. Normally it would sound condescending, but somehow coming from a huge mouth full of teeth it reminded her of Miss Binklesthorpe. --She didn't have any teeth though.-- Miss Binklesthorpe, who did not possess any teeth at the brink of her life, but was always kind and gentle. Maybe slightly racist, but always well-mannered. Not really having another choice anyway, she carefully climbed the tree down, keeping one eye on the huge crocodile at all times. Nothing terrible has happened. With a bit more courage, she walked back towards the fireplace and jumped on one of the logs that were lying around in the grass. The crocodile was sitting a bit away, which was a wise choice, given the water running down its body. Lady noticed a strange thing - the creature actually smelled nice. The ones she remembered from Grada always smelled like rotten meat and stinking mud, but for some reason, there was a smell of lavender coming from this one. "Your boy is taking a swim?" Lady asked, peeking cautiously towards the riverbank. "And no, I don't live here. In fact, I have just arrived this morning. I lived in the capital, but needed a change of scenery." Lady sighed and started licking her paw which somehow got sand all over it. "Do you live here? The town looks very interesting, unlike any I've come across so far. Those were mostly boring farmer communities or tiny trading posts. There seems to be a lot going on here. And a dragon? Wow, we didn't have those even in the capital." Realizing she had been blabbering for a longer time than she wanted to, Lady stopped herself. "I have eaten your food and haven't even told you my name, how rude of me. I am Lady Meowlune, but you can just call me Lady. And if you really don't mind,..." she jumped down from the log and walked back towards the half-eaten fish, "I'll take another bite or two. You don't really come across a delicious meal like this one on the road."</s>
<\|description\|>D'Artagnan Riverwood Race: Katorian- A cat-like race of people that are both agile and able to see in the dark, they mostly live in the eastren part of the world in a place called Baastlian. The Katorian's fur and body type differ depending on what is passed on hierarchy. The Katorian have retractable claws and sharp teeth, which can be used as a weapon. Job: D'Artagnan is an archaeologist. Background: D'Artagnan lived with his family consisting of his mother, father, and three older brothers. As a young boy he was interested in studying the history of the world, and specifically of his own people. As an adolescent he was sent to a school in Basstliant to study and become an archeologist. During this time he and his mentor, a male Katorian named Henri, would explore ancient ruins and find artifacts to be preserved. During his adulthood he was ready to venture forth, currently finding artifacts that would be sent to museums for preservation. Home: Birthday: The twentieth of Springsa</s> <\|message\|>Yoshina Shizue Yoshina seemed unperturbed by the sudden revelation from the Red Haired woman. She guessed that the Tanuki-Onna isn't actually hallucinating at all, and while she's a bit disturbed by the sudden revelation. Having a Ryu near her isn't something too crazy for her to bear, she has wined and dined with Oni, talked and fought in duels against Tengu, having breakfast with a Ryu is not too off the charts in terms of her personal experiences. Besides, she feels fairly confident about her ability to fight dragons. Knowing her own military experience, but then again, the dragons of this land is not something she is intimately familiar with, perhaps different magics might be in play when she fights against her, can't be too cautious when you're potentially fighting a dragon. Also, it seems that she is not hostile at the very least, and well, if even Onis and Kappas can be reasoned with... "I have no desire to start my journeys in this land starting a fight against an unknown enemy. Umm, miss Tanuki?" She turned her head towards the Raccoon girl. "It's a military understanding in my lands that if you can avoid fighting, you should do it. How about we don't fight for today and have breakfast for the moment? We can discuss the woman's status as a Ryu later on, okay?" Besides, if the trio fought here, the damage would be too devastating to the town anyway, might as well arrange a fight (assuming everyone wants to fight) after a hearthy breakfast at the Tavern. @Forsythe</s> <\|message\|>Shina @Kumbaris As Shina waved goodbye to the kitty and turned, the tall woman suddenly revealed the eyes of a dragon! ' I KNEW IT!! I knew I wasn't going crazy! Hah take that everyone who looked at me weird...' Shina was talking more to herself than anyone else. She became acutely aware that others were also aware of the situation, including the other red head who had taken up residence by her side, a comforting notion. 'You are right, I wish not to fight if I do not have to. I am Shina, of the firetail clan.'' Shina bowed. Turning to the tall lady... 'Right, um i'm sorry dragon..um lady-dragon? I do not believe I have even heard your name? Nor yours? Shina looked to the lady beside her. 'Yes, please let's get some food...it's just...I've never seen a dragon like you before. Let us go back and you can get some food, Minnow has some great feasts.' Shina gestured to both women and waited for them to enter the inn first before following behind, hand returning to her hilt for a brief moment before dropping it back to her side.</s> <\|message\|>Rudolph Admoss --- "Oh my...how scandalous." The red haired wizard said to himself as he re-read the translated transcription he made of the last of the two scrolls. While the first scroll was a rather mundane letter of complaint regarding a jar of preserved fish missing one fish from the rest and the author going on about being compensated one missing fish. This scroll was a confession of the chamberlain of the ancient noble house of Baintol. Particularly the exile of a number of servants after bearing the children of a certain heroic figure by the name of Otto du Baintol. More commonly recognized as the slayer of the false king Allant first hero king of the Baintol Monarchy in the far West. "Otto you horndog, this is quite dangerous information. Best to keep this under lock and key for another eternity; lest it spark some inner conflict or, Makers forbid, a full blown civil war." Rudolph muttered to himself as he stood up from his work table with both ancient and recently made scrolls in one hand and his wand in the other. "Pórta" A small ball of teal colored manifested in between the prongs of the wand as he flicks his wrist in a circular motion to create a small portal roughly 30 cm in diameter. Carefully, Rudolph slips the old and new scrolls into the portal and with another wrist rotation, the portal disappears. "Baintol already has its plate full dealing with that dragon taking roost somewhere in their borders. Folks deserve a break." He says while walking over to the impromptu distillery set up and checking on the half full container of the distilled liquid. The liquid in question was crystal clear and smelled faintly of freshly cut grass. A good sign that the distillation process was a success. Satisfied with the quality, he then moves onto bottling and potency enhancement. Similarly with the booster potions, he equally separates the liquid and imbues the liquid with magical energy to increase its potency. With four 500 ml bottles filled with the mana potion concoction he was set to deliver them to the village's two runesmiths. Placing the bottles in his satchel, he raises an open palm to the still lit flame on the metal plate and with one word, extinguishes the flame. "Págos" A stream of sub-zero magical frost bursts from his open palm. But there was a little too much power behind the spell and the plate, cauldron, and the immediate area got encased in ice. "Oops. Uhh...I guess I'll leave clean up to you guys." He snaps his fingers and the unseen servants go to work. Knowing that the unseen servants likely got the situation under control, Rudolph gets a clean pair of outside shoes and leaves his tower. He was out to do business, but it was also a 15 minute walk to the village proper. No point in wasting a relaxing stroll through the main road heading to Lorenstad. So Rudolph did.</s> <\|message\|>Lady Meowlune Lady hissed as the strange woman patted her head. Was she such a cute little kitty that everyone felt the need to pet her? Well, she was, but still, it didn't give random strangers the right to just go ahead and touch her. --How rude.-- Fortunately, the woman stopped before Lady had to use her teeth and claws. After the tall red-haired woman admitted to being a dragon, the other two looked surprised. Lady snorted. Humans were so dumb sometimes. It was obvious that the woman smelled [/i]nothing[/i] like a human, in fact, she gave out a scent that warned everyone to stay away from a ferocious beast. Lady wouldn't have guessed a dragon, she had never really met one before, but she could tell that there was a dangerous predator behind the human disguise. It would probably be best to keep some distance. Unfortunately, the trio headed back into the tavern, which put Lady in front of a dilemma. She eventually decided she was not hungry enough to fight a dragon. Or being patted on the head by strangers. So instead of entering the building, she kept walking down the street towards the river. River meant fish and fish usually meant fishermen. Sleepy old folks napping in their chairs on the riverbank should be easy to steal from. But the town was either too small or the townsfolk were too lazy to get up this early to catch some fish and there were no fishermen in sight. The option that there was in fact no fish in the river was too terrifying to even think of. Sighing, she took a barely visible trail along the river, just to see where it leads. There were some relatively fresh drops of blood on the ground, probably some hunter got up early and took this way to return to town with his catch. The path led her to a small clearing at the riverside with a huge tent on it. There were no fresh human scents and the tent was too big to house humans anyway. Lady curiously crept closer. Could it cover a dragon? --Maybe a baby dragon.-- Probably not. There was something else that caught her attention, making her whiskers twitch in happiness. Just outside a weirdly wet fireplace, there was a pile of fish. They looked pretty fresh, some of them were still moving slightly. Lady carefully sniffed the air, looked around, and listened quietly for a few moments, but there were no signs of immediate danger. The river smelled of some normal river predators, but not one was in sight. Deciding to use the opportunity, Lady sprinted over to the fish, grabbing one into her mouth. Originally she wanted to drag it away from the clearing to eat it in some safer place, but it was way heavier than she expected. Having no other option, she stayed where she was, her teeth ripping the best parts of meat off the fish skeleton. Each bite was swallowed hastily, she most likely didn't have much time before the fish owner returned.</s> <\|message\|>Human disguise: Margaret von Eisenberg Taraah / The Old Mine The dragoness smiled back: "That will be just perfect, daughter of the night. Thank you. Perhaps a drink to wash it down? Mead if you have but anything will do." The dragon actually carried little money with her. Most of her wealth was in fine metals, gems and jewellry, safe in her den halfway across the continent. Not a flight she wanted to make often, but she could afford to be generous. She doubted the locals would object if she paid them with the naturalia, based on the night elf's change of demeanor when she saw her money bag. Was she worried that someone would steal from her? Not really, she would just sniff the thief out and then they would be dinner. As the two others returned though, she did pull the bag closer to her seat. They did not seem peturbed by her revelation - She'd see once they saw her in her great true self! - and while the furious furry seemed to have a problem with her due to the percieved hazard she represented, she wasn't sure what the traceller's deal was. She did not seem like a poor person, but many have attempted to slay her for her riches. "So, now that eceryone calmed down... The humans of this land call me Ashwing. I've come south looking for a new home in a warmer land. How about yourselves?" @RedPandaGamer</s> <\|message\|>Shina @Kumbaris 'I have lived in Lorenstad for as long as I can remember. My family were killed during a raid in my land... She fell silent as memories of that night flooded back. Shina composed herself. 'Sorry..um yes so I now live and work from my workshop across the street. Shina gestured out of the window to her workshop, Lapoo was sitting happily on the chimney. 'Please let me know if you need anything repaired, I would be happy to oblige'</s> <\|message\|>She may be addressed as Queen Victoria Elizabeth Louise Maria Dahlia Victoria Elizabeth had considered taking a nap in the sun, but it wasn't nearly as often as she would've liked that she had the opportunity to go for a swim. Her poor child didn't appreciate water nearly as much as she did. Something about wet clothes being uncomfortable... If only he had scales instead of delicate skin. So, she swam alone, trotting along on the bottom of the river, feeling light as a bird as fish flitted around her. Eventually, she headed back down the river to where the clearing was. Her poor son would be worried if she wasn't there when he came back. She approached slowly, not disruping the water at all as only her eyes peeked above the surface. She didn't see him anywhere. Pity. He was always gone far too long for her liking. It took her a moment to spot the tiny black shape helping itself to the fish she'd caught earlier. A cat. How sweet. Oh? Not just a cat, it seemed. She could sense something beyond it being a simple animal. It was a very useful skill to be able to quickly discern whether or not the prey you were planning on surprising and dragging into the water would've been capable of speech or not. If it speaks, it isn't meant to be eaten. However, one could hardly approach and ask without scaring away a potentail meal. The cat's aura was nothing alarming. It simply indicated intelligence. Well, watching somebody without them knowing you were there, was rather rude. If she scared the poor thing away, so be it. She calmly came to the edge of the rather narrow river where her claws quickly found ground and heaved herself out of the water. "Hello there, dear," she said cheerily. "Beautiful morning, isn't it?"</s>	<\|message\|>D'Artagnan Riverwood Location: The Road To Lorenstad D'Artagnan also completely stopped, his horse letting out a noise of discomfort. He was used to people pulling out their weapons intending to hurt him, he quickly went for his whip that was strapped to his side. He slowly moved his arm to his side when Thaddus took Malvor's pistol. "It's quite fine, gentle sir, you can never be sure about who is a highwayman trying to take your coin." He smiled at the group, quickly apologizing for reaching for his whip. "My name is D'Artagnan Riverwood." He kept his pace with the others, but kept some distance in case the one named Malvor tried to attack him. "I just came back from a recent exploration, just coming back to Lorenstad to give my findings to the museum of history." He looked over towards the one named Jack, quickly shaking his hand with a grin. "Well it is nice to meet you a lot, it is always good to see a friendly face." The cat-like male waved his long tail back and forth while riding with them. "You folks were riding a ship? If I may ask where you were travelling from?"</s>
<\|description\|>Gunner Gunnerson Race: Human in his later 30s Job: Gunner is the towns Skald/Occasional adventurer. Background: Drifting into town some 20 years ago as a traveling skald hailing from the northern tribes. Gunner took a liking to the town deciding then to settle down in Lorenstad. He quickly became the fixture at the local tavern regaling the patrons nightly with stories, ballads, and poetry from his homeland. The skald still had the burning desire for adventure in his heart often leaves on adventures and expeditions. Leaving for months on end coming back with more tales to tell to the crowed. Gunnerson has recently return back to the town after his most recent journey with an expedition to locate a hidden ruin. Home: He lives in shack in the woods. Birthday: 21st of Meltsa</s> <\|message\|>Human disguise: Margaret von Eisenberg @Ozzy Cross@RedPandaGamer@Kumbaris@Searat Taraah - In front of TOM Margaret raised her arm, offering it to the Hawk to perch on. "I thank you for your offer, although I worry that it may more likely result in a mob with pitchfork and torches chasing down on me. I think I will stay disguised for now, and let my actions show the people who I am. If some of them then decide to attack me after all, well, that is their folly." she shrugged, "I would rather go for a relaxing flight, sky-sister. You must know of a good hunting ground around." Taraah moaned. She still only had the mystery soup and foul eggs to eat. Hopefully a large deer or small bear will not pay attention while they are searching for Guan. The dragoness nodded at Thaddeus. "Well, if he did, you shown me how to turn him off." she grinned, "And I would like to hear more very much. After we return then, prefferably over a roast and spirit." she nodded. Shiina came back making a ruckus and trying to keep everyone from killing each other over misunderstandings and prejudices. When the question of her shapeshifting came up, Taraah had to pause to think before answering: "While rpesent company may be used to my true form by now, any strangers we meet would cause issues. Worry not about me though, I have means of keeping up with a horse." she said finally. Just as she did so, the night elf came crashing out of a window of her establishment, before the wizard that proclaimed to also help them bolted faster than Taraah could summon a fire circle to prevent him form fleeing. "Ugh! We should swing by that coward's tower and hold him to his promise!" She growled furiously.</s> <\|message\|>Gunner Gunnerson Gunner was glad his hangover had lessened slightly by the time he made it to the town's outskirts. It did not take him long to get to town from his cabin. Gunner figured the apothecary may be open at this time and started to make his way there. The skald mused what to do with the lizard trinkets he picked up from his latest job. Or in reality who could Gunner sell it to that will ask the least amount of questions about their origins. 'Roa would pay for the trinkets. But she pays the cost of the material itself. The other would be that wizard Rudolph. But I don't know which is magi-.' The skalds musing was cut off when someone slammed into him. Caught off guard he was sent tumbling to the street. Gunner was able to catch the sight of the running form of Rudolph. Whatever plans the skald had were put on hold as he chased after the fleeing wizard.</s> <\|message\|>Rudolph Admoss --- Tags: @eemmtt@Lucky --- The wind whistled past his ears and the buildings and people became blurs to him as the magically enhanced wizard beelined through the streets. "Run! Get to safety! Dragonfire inbound!" The wizard bellowed as he ran. Warning any those who could hear his voice. He'd hope that he would manage to reach his home in time and gather the necessary equipment and potions he needed in dealing with the aftermath of a fight with a dragon. His mind raced as he created a mental image of every floor of his tower and began planning out the most optimized route to collect the items and run back to town in time to mitigate the damage he projected the battle between the sailor and the dragoness would cause. It so deep in thought that he failed to realize that he basically broadsided the old skald when he neared the outskirts of Lorenstad. He would have immediately stopped and apologized to him while explaining the whole situation but, sadly, the half-elf was too immersed in his plan that he crashed into a lamp post being tended by the town's Noctaeid lamplighter. The impact was sudden and the stop, painful. If his blunder into TOM's broom closet wouldn't leave his body black and blue by the next dawn, the collision between his body and solid pine lamp post surely will. A most likely prediction as the lamp post had been slightly uprooted from its original position. Had he crashed into the wooden structure without the layers of muscle to dampen the impact, he would have surely fractured a number of his ribs. While he gasped and heaved for breath painfully on the ground, his mind became more and more muddled by pain. To the point that he lost concentration on his earlier body enhancing spell and returned to his more modest body size. He tried to will himself to stand back up and keep going...but his body ultimately won as a simple act of breathing was currently a herculean task to perform. He can only pray to the Makers that he'd still make it in time before the town became too ravaged from the fighting between the Mesmer and the Dragoness he imagined.</s> <\|message\|>Shina @Ozzy Cross @Kumbaris @Searat [@Zanavay] Shina saw the dragon lady talking to ...a hawk? She thought that might just be Calledia. After all, she knew of the shapeshifter when word had spread from Oryxtheos of him finding this rare creature, years ago. She quite liked the satyr, he reminded her of Guan in a way, he had loved the travelling life and he seemed a different person once he settled in Lorenstead. She was about to greet her when she swore she saw the flash of the old sorcerer running for his tower, he must have put a spell on himself, she'd never seen him run so fast! 'This isn't going to end well is it?' Shina thought. Sigh, she just wanted to get going! She turned to see the princess standing there, looking as frustrated as her right now. 'Oh i am sorry princess, I didn't see you there, we are looking to get going very soon. We are going to use a couple of Thaddeus' wagons but you are able to bring your horse. I was thinking I would take mine as well, so that we have room in the wagons in case we need to ...hide anyone' Shina shrugged in the direction of the dragon and gave a weak smile. Shina gave a short, sharp whistle and heard the sounds of hooves coming from behind the workshop, along with Lapoo flying towards her. The chesnut mare came up to Shina and she nuzzled her nose, 'Hi Renn, are you ready for an adventure? Oh and of course you too Lapoo' The squirrel landed on her shoulder and gave a happy squeak. Shina turned to everyone 'OK, I think we're ready to go. The wagons should have enough rations and if people have their own then we will store it out of sight. I will lead on Renn here and the rest of you can share the wagon space. I am afraid I don't have much to go on, but the last time Guan and I went out, we visited a tavern in the south, about 10 miles from Lorenstead. If we go there first, someone might have seen him again. As Shina spoke, she didn't even have faith in her own words. What if they hadn't seen him, where would they go next? Shina tied her ration bag to the saddle and kept just her bow on her back. She leapt onto Renn and felt instantly at ease on the warm body of the mare, this was where she felt the most herself.</s> <\|message\|>Yoshina Shizue @Forsythe@Searat@Ozzy Cross Yoshina smiled at the Firetail's response. "Great! I'll be sure to bring my horse then, I'm sure everyone will like what dried fish and rice crackers will taste like." She finished, quickly running towards her horse and untying him from the tree. "Daijobu daijobu." She comforted the stallion. Seemingly agitated at his master's new appearance. "We're just going to be going on a short adventure okay? Nothing out of the ordinary, you've carried me throughout battles before, this will just be a walk in the park." Some stroking of the horse's mane and carresses later, and Yoshina was already on top of the horse, her covered Naginata on her back and nodded at Shina's instructions. "10 miles south, sooo roughly 3 Ri or less..." She mumbled. "Should be doable in a brisk walk, especially for a force this small. Let's go then!" Yoshina feels excited. This is probably the first time she's ever gone on adventure in this westerly place, everyone can feel her excitement as she paces the fastest out of the group, constantly motioning everyone to keep up with her as her enthusiasm visibly made her faster in her journey. Yoshina also kept her Naginata under her cloth wrapping, making sure no one sees what her polearm looks like, she didn't mention anything, but one can feel a visible aura of unease just thinking about asking her about her weapon. Still, one soul might or might not be brave enough to ask the Sangakuan Princess about her weapon.</s> <\|message\|>Calleida (kuh-LIE-duh) Fynwynlynn Calleida Fynwynlynn Outside The Other Mine --> Inside The Other Mine "Oh! You're going on a quest? Can I come? Can I??" Calleida ignored Margaret's outstretched arm for the time being, instead choosing to perch on the cart. The bird hopped and her eyes shone with a daring gleam for a few seconds. A search quest, it sounded like. A bird of prey could do something useful, something adventurous here! Then Calleida furrowed her prominent brows in a bird-frown and looked up. Based on the sun's position in the nearly cloudless sky, it appeared to be between nine and ten o'clock in the morning. Hmm. Maybe starting a fresh new adventure now would be cutting it a liiiittle itty bit close. It looked like they were in a hurry to get started, anyway, and gathering all the logistics of Calleida's existence would take up a fair amount of time and effort. "Ah, never mind," the harrier huffed, her feathers fluffing up in a pout. "Good luck on your adventure though. And hit me up next time you got a shorter quest, ya hear?" The hawk took off into the air again. "And welcome to Lorenstad, Pyrona. Maid." With a final nod toward the new faces, Calleida flew low to the ground, her next destination nearby. She alighted on the windowsill in The Other Mind. The hawk glanced around at her surroundings, searching for whatever hired hand would be manning the tavern at this early hour. She was surprised to see Minnow herself, awake and... picking herself up off the ground outside? What happened here? Whatever it was, the elf looked kinda cranky about it. Hmm. Well, the news Calleida had to deliver was good, so maybe it would brighten Minnow's mood a little! "Hiya, it's Calleida," the bird addressed Minnow. "I've come to inform you that the mystery herb my dad has been growing has a minty buttery sort of taste. It is quite edible for satyrs, chickens, and a handful of other species, though it might be better to keep it away from canids. It should be fully mature for harvest in a week, and you and dad can meet to arrange the price." Calleida preened her feathers for a few seconds. "Now that I'm here, are there any messages you'd like to send? Or rats you'd like caught? For a small fee, of course." If Minnow had no work for her, Calleida considered visiting Mayor Burgermeister next. She still wasn't sure whether she should inform the townsfolk about a good dragon. Her friend said it was a good idea, but the person most involved turned it down. Maybe the mayor would know what to do. @Forsythe @RedPandaGamer @Goldeagle1221 @Kumbaris @Ozzy Cross</s>	<\|message\|>Gunner Gunnerson Gunner did not expect to be chasing a wizard through the streets of Lorenstad when he woke up this morning. However here he is chasing the local wizard now babbling something about dragonfire like a loon. The skald figured the wizard had finally lost his mind after spending too long with his head buried in his books. Although Gunner wondered how Rudolph could be so swift like a deer. That could wait Gunner knew he best caught Rudolph before he did something to get himself or any of the townspeople injured. The skald watched as the wizard crashed into one of the pine lamp posts. Rudolph's sudden stop allowed the skald to catch up to the wizard. Once he got up to the wizard Gunner simply grabbed Rudolph by his robes and hosted him up. "By all the iron of Gorum you're going to cause a panic with all that screaming of yours! The skald gave a not so gentle shake to the wizard before dropping the wizard back on the ground. "Now take a deep breath and tell me why in the seven hells are you running like a mad man screaming about dragons?" Gunner could feel his headaches returning.</s>
<\|description\|>King Jaguaro Alias: None Archetype: Original Age: 30 Weapons of choice: Natural attacks, claws. Powers & Abilities: Keen sense of smell, track by scent, Stealth Ambush, Power to call upon other Jungle cats to aid him. Trait: Mobility Weakness: Water, fear of water. Experience: Has been in many battles with Skeletor's minions over territorial disputes and the destruction of said territory(Jungles) Appearance: Bio: King Jaguaro's father aided He-man in the war against Skeletor, and was severly wounded, eventually his wounds were too severe to be treated, and on his death bed, named his son the new king and chief of the clan, however there was a fallimg out between him and his twin brother. His twin tried a coup to overtake Jaguaro's new throne, but he was defeated and bannished from the clan.</s> <\|message\|>Fisto It all began nearly one year ago…. He-Man and Skeletor were in battle just outside of Castle Grayskull. Several of the Heroic Masters and Warriors were at He-Man's side, as were several of Skeletor's usual henchmen. It was unclear what caused the blast of blinding energy, but in the end the two chief combatants were no more and the remaining forces were left with more questions than answers. This whole time King Randor was under the impression his son was abroad with Orko. Now so much time has passed he's beginning to wonder about the safety of Prince Adam. For the past year Man-At-Arms, the Sorceress, and Orko have done everything they could to figure out what's become of He-Man and Skeletor. To this day they're no closer to the truth. The Heroic Masters had mostly disbanded over time. Now only Mecha-Neck, Ram Man, Teela, and Man-At-Arms helped the Royal Guard defend the city of Eternos. On a day like any other Lord Masque chose to attack the capitol city again, making his presence known with shadow dragons and serpents bringing terror to the peoples outside of the city walls. Episode List Ep. 1 – The Beginning: With He-Man and Skeletor missing for nearly a year, Lord Masque attempts to attack the Royal Palace. Man-At-Arms put a call out to former Masters as well as his younger brother, but who else will answer? Ep. 2 – The Silver Swordsman: Who's the mysterious guy flying around with the strange sword? He's not what anybody expects and he spells doom for everyone on the planet. Ep. 3 – The Chaos King: The Silver Swordsman's master is revealed and his plans for Eternia are made clear. He wants the Star Seed beneath Castle Grayskull, but what can the Sorceress bring to the party for our new cast of heroes? Later this season… Ep. 4 – The Legends: After the Sorceress exhausted her energy last episode to empower the heroes, Evil Lyn and Marzo attack Castle Grayskull. And is that… Prince Adam? Ep. 5 – The Prodigal Son: With Prince Adam back at the Palace all seems well, and Orko finally leaves Grayskull to investigate. Before Orko can make any sense of it Skeletor returns out of nowhere when Beast Man attempts to breach the Palace walls. Ep. 6 – The Machine Messiah: Unknown to Zodak and his cosmic allies, an entity makes itself known on Eternia and seemingly returns He-Man. Who is man, and who is machine? And what did it do to Tri-Clops? Rules: 1.) No back-to-back posting. Posting will be restricted to 3-4 posts per player per Episode. Larger storylines will have higher post caps as well as Character-centric Eps. 2.) PAY ATTENTION TO DETAIL AND SET-UPS!! 3.) Make sense. If we can't make heads or tails of your posts they're likely to get skipped over. 4.) Get permission before using another player's character in your posts if it involves changing the scene or making actions. Everybody will take beatings in this game in battle however, so don't get pissed if you get punched or blasted into a wall by the bad guys! Namely me or the Co-GM controlling the badguys... 5.) Problems with the game or players should be sent directly to me or the Co-GM through PM's. I don't want a bunch of bickering in the OOC. And I don't particularly like it when some random argument costs the game players and story potential. So don't be dicks to each other, just send your concerns to us. 6.) Abandoned characters will be used as NPC's or killed off within the context of the story. 7.) "I was waiting for [insert player/character] to make a move" is not how this game is played. 8.) There is no rule #8. 9.) My word is law. 10.) Obey the law. 11.) In the event that I'm offline for any period of time, the Co-GM [none ATM] will take control and HIS/HER word will then be law. Episode 1 – the Beginning The Royal Palace… King Randor sat upon his throne questioning the whereabouts of Prince Adam when an alarm rang out within the palace walls. Man-At-Arms, also called Duncan, came into the throne room after passing the royal guards stationed by the doorway. "It's Lord Masque. There's several shadow serpents just outside of the city walls, however Masque himself is riding a shadow dragon." Duncan explained removing his helmet and revealing the manliest of mustaches. "Can the Palace defenses hold him off?" the King asked. "Many of the Royal Guard along with Teela and Ram Man are on the edge of the city taking on the serpents. Mecha-Neck is seeing over the turrets and trying to take the dragon out of the air. I put out a call to all of the former Masters just in case, although many of them haven't responded recently." Duncan continued explaining. Ten Minutes Earlier… "Masters, this is Man-At-Arms. The Royal Palace is under attack. Lord Masque has returned. Repeat, Lord Masque has returned!" Duncan said into some sort of communications device that looked super advanced but really only had basic functions. He moved to another table in his workshop where there was another smaller device that was hand held and not jacked into a table or wall. The Man-At-Arms looked at the device and spoke. "Malcom? The palace is under attack. I could use your help, brother." The bearded hero heard the device from across his home. He essentially lived in a bachelor's tree house deep within the forests outside of the city walls. He could hear the dragon in the sky as well. Roughly two miles away near the city walls Teela and Ram Man fought the shadow serpents, one of which was trying to squeeze the life out of one of the Royal Guards.</s> <\|message\|>Riffmaster He couldn't believe what he was seeing. His hands stood still, wrapped around the neck of his mystical lute as he sat atop a boulder. Moments before, he had been strumming along, enjoying a small rest in his travels. Now, however, he found himself staring at a terror in the sky being piloted by an even worse fiend. "Is that... Masque?" He squinted as he peered toward the villain, trying to be sure. Ryker, the RiffMaster, had never met the nefarious rogue personally, but Masque's reputation was quite infamous. "Hoo, boy. This isn't good." He pushed himself to his feet. "That looks like a charge, which means there's bound to be more of them." Just as he said it, he could hear the serpentine movements of Masque's minions in the distance as they made their way through the ground terrain. Their target was easy enough to determine; they were headed straight for the palace walls. Ryker took in a deep breath, wound his arm around like a propeller to get it loose, and finally exhaled. It was that time again. He squeezed his knuckles into his hands and let each digit pop in rapid succession before slinging his strapped lute toward his back, digging his foot into the dirt and sprinting off in pursuit of the shadow serpents and the palace itself.</s> <\|message\|>Fisto "KEEP FIRING! TAKE IT OUT OF THE AIR!" Meka-Neck shouted while operating one of the turrets while using his extendable neck to check on another. Eventually the barrage of blasts took out the shadow dragon's left wing and it faded away like black smoke. The dragon cried and crashed into the ground, a small earthquake erupted for several moments afterwards. The rumble of the ground managed to knock Fisto's drink off of the wooden table it sat on. He was at least thirty feet in the air in the top of a large Eternian tree, his home looking like a tree house mixed with a retired gym owner's quarters. In a matter of seconds his chest armor was on and he leaped from the tree down to the ground below. You could hear him tearing through the forest as he got closer to the palace and the city walls. "They managed to take the dragon out of the air, Ram Man. Maybe we'll catch a break with these serpents too?" Teela joked as several of the large snake like shadow constructs were nearing the walls of the city. Fisto came leaping out of the forest at the shadow serpents with big metal right hands for several of them before they began retreating towards Lord Masque and his now wingless shadow dragon. "Where's your father when you need him, Teela?" Fisto asked punching the last shadow serpent repeatedly before it began to back off and slither away as well. Suddenly Man At Arms showed up in a large vehicle that looked like a giant toy. "I wanted to bring more than a fist to a gun fight, little brother. I brought a walking tank." Duncan said stating the obvious from his somewhat Robotech styled transportation with large robotic legs but no arms.</s>	<\|message\|>King Jaguaro King Jaguaro and his army of well trained battle cats surveyed the battle from atop the ridge. He held his right hand up, then motioned for half the unit to begin sneaking in. Turning to his left, King Jaguaro let loose his war cry roar, and the right unit charged with great speed at the shadow serpents. The half man - half cat leader leaped from the top of the boulder, and landed on all fours, his claws digging into the ground, as he bounded off towards the Guard. Stealthy, the other battle cats folowed their leader, as he made his way quickly to aid his new friends. A shadow serpent had the unfortunate greeting as it fled straight in the path of King Jaguaro, instantly it went down with a flash of claws. King Jaguaro bounded up the steps two or three at a time, until he reached the platform where Ram Man and Teela were. " We have come as promised by my father many years ago, raaaaaaar" The Catman bowed before them, "How can we be of service?"</s>
<\|description\|>Purrcival Race: Lynian - Felyne and Grimalkyne heritage Gender: Male Appearance: Purrcival, due to his heritage is rather tall when compared to than most Palicos- standing in at about 3'6". His fur is short and mostly black, save for white patches on his stomach, underneath his chin, and on his paws. Scars from various missions adorn his frame, and a pair of gold rings are pierced through one of his ears. Role: Tailraider - Tailraider Rescue Group Weapons: * With a custom built gunlance and shield, Purrcival stands at the front of any rescue effort, protecting his fellow Tailraiders as they provide direct aid to distressed hunters and palicos. Though heavy and large, Purrcival wields this weapon with surprising grace and finesse. * Felyne Iron Sword - Purrcival keeps a standard issue palico sword strapped across his back as a backup weapon. He uses it on the occasions when he has been disarmed of his primary weapon, or needs to drop the gunlance and shield for more mobility. * Tailraider Gadgets - Purrcival keeps a pouch containing a variety of necessary tools for the Tailraiders, most notably a generous supply of vigorwasp spray for first aid purposes, and smoke bombs for screening escapes from hostile monsters. * Grani - A Mernos wingdrake. One of many used by the Tailraiders as a method of quick transport in and out of rescue locations. While technically capable of combat, wingdrakes are rather fragile when compared to the usual targets of hunters, and Purrcival avoids bringing Grani into combat when possible. Still, the wingdrake is capable of being used as a warmount. Grani in particular responds to a whistle Purrcival has built into his helmet. Armor: While at home and not on duty, Purrcival is commonly seen in the typical Palico getup- leather vest and hat. However, when deployed or prepping for a rescue mission, Purrcival dons a set of Legiana Mail, providing him ample protection without too much weight. Bio: A Tailraider of considerable repute, Purrcival is the oldest of 12. Always larger than his siblings, and possessed of considerable athleticism- with strength comparable to a human, Purrcival was quickly picked up and inducted into the Hunter's Guild as one of their palicos. Purrcival served with another hunter in the Old World before an injury left the hunter unable to continue their career. Staying with the Hunter's Guild, Purrcival was among those selected to join the Fifth Fleet as they headed out towards the New World. Upon reaching the new world, Purrcival and several other Felynes without Hunter partners banded together to form the Tailraiders, support to hunter teams as they embarked on missions in the New World. The Tailraiders grew in number as the years went by, and different specializations were formed to fit the different needs of the Commission: Support and logistics staff, safari gatherers, auxiliary hunters, rescue teams, and whatever else the Commission felt necessary. Owing to his size and skill, Purrcival became member of the Tailraider Rescue Group: heavily armed and armored Tailraiders mounted on wingdrakes, responsible for swooping into mission areas and ensuring downed hunters made it back to base. With surprising efficiency, by the time the Sixth Fleet arrived in Astera, Purrcival had risen through the ranks and made his mark as team leader for TRG-1, sent into the most dangerous locations to rescue and support beleaguered hunters during the most dangerous of hunts. As things have mostly calmed down after the events in Seliana, Purrcival and the rest of TRG-1 spend most of their days training new hunters and palicos as they arrive in Astera, though Purrcival still feels the call of adventure and is ready to answer any call at a moment's notice.</s> <\|message\|>Domick The smell of herbs and moisture was strong this morning. This was one of the few times Domic was lucky enough to be alone at the communal baths while his tub was smaller than most, and lacked a heater, the quiet was something he could only find in his dreams. It was hard for him to connect with his fellow hunters. They seemed so… Jolly. So eager. Most were aces as well. It made Domic feel lesser. Weaker. He couldn't drag them down to his level. As he dunked his head into the ice cold water Domic felt his body engulfed once more, and his skin felt like it was burning despite bathing. When he got out his stomach growled and as usual, Domic began chewing on his tongue. The metallic taste teased his hunger. "Lets eat." after drying off Domic donned his clothes, followed by his armor, and head to the cantina. It was loud and bustling. Hunters, handlers, researchers, and Palicos were out and about doing their business. Domic did his best to stay out of the way as he made his way to his table. But as he did, he saw that there were no seats. From all the noise and hubbub, it seemed like everyone was at the gathering hall. All good and seats were there due to the comet. "Right. Forgot about that." Domic never much liked the gathering hall. Too far from his gardens. Too many people. But he'll deal with it. He had to. Sure enough there were large crowds at the Gathering Hall. So many people coursing, singing, and feasting. Domic ordered some food and went to find a table, though he had to eat with a group of strangers. He minded his business as he ate his meal; a big hunk of roasted wyvern tail, with buttered bread, served with a side of rice with Mosswine brain curry, and a large mug of wyverian brandy. Domic ate heartily as he passively listened to others chat and talk. Apparently there was some big mission going to happen soon. Domic was considering it. Money's been a bit tight since Domic commissioned his Super Scattergun. He's been able to pay his living expanses easy enough via gathering and his garden, but he wouldn't be able to pay for any equipment upgrades unless he can find a real good bounty. This could be his lucky break. Of course, he might end up having to work with others but… He'll just have to deal with it. He had to. At the notice board Domic simply wrote his name in the biggest, newest request. Hearing that something fell from the meteor does sound interesting, though Domic doubts it's anything too big. Otherwise the older hunters would've already been sent out. Domic knew how this usually goes down: eager boobies go out thinking they've found a big haul, and fueled by youth they lay down the ground works for a new settlement or research base, but it'll be years before it yields any results. In the mean time the youth will just clear out the local threats and await further orders. That's how it usually goes. "And if it doesn't… That's when things get messy." After signing up for the job Domic turned to head back to his room. He'll need to stick up on supplies. Potions, rations, bombs, ammo. They're heading north so that could also mean cold weather. Fortunately his armor was quite adapt at dealing with the cold, but some hot drinks would be helpful nonetheless. There was also the possibility that once he's up there, he won't be coming back to Astera for a while. He'll need to make arrangements for someone to tend to hos garden and ferry supplies to wherever he'll be going. A bunch of logistical stuff. "Work's never done."</s> <\|message\|>Jaden Jaden "How did I have overslept???," a confused Jaden exclaimed while in his bed as he realized that it was around noon. Quickly getting out of bed and into clothes. Normally a certain kinsect named Arania would wake him up before it got too late in the day. But, as Jaden was halfway putting on his clothes. He spotted the still sleeping Arania in her bed on a desk. Jaden only sighed as he finished putting on his clothes. "Maybe we should stop staying up so late." Talking to himself as he walked over to Arania. Jaden had been staying up with others as they watched Prismata's Comet. Amazed by the sight of the colorful comet and perhaps stayed up too late last night. Now he and Arania are finally paying for it. Now standing next to Arania, Jaden started to coax her to consciousness. Speaking softly, "Wake up, Arania, time to wake up." Repeating himself. It felt kinda weird to Jaden since it is Arania that normally wakes him up, and now the tables have turned. Soon enough, Arania's eyes started to open and made a pleasant, almost chirping sound upon seeing Jaden. They say that kinsects do not really form bonds with their owners but with Arania. Jaden feels that that is simply not true. As he gently petted her and as he was done. Arania flew up and landed on his right shoulder. "Good girl Arania," Jaden said happily. Arania replied with an affectionate chirp. "Sorry to wake you up but, we are running late, and I do not want to miss out on that quest." With that done with Jaden headed to the Gathering Hall. Ready to take in the festivities. It was quite the sight when he arrived to see everyone busy having fun and celebrating. Jaden had half a mind to join them but, he was on a mission. Pushing through the crowd the best he could without disturbing Arania. But she simply flew up and watched Jaden move through the crowd. Until finally, he was at the main mission board. Arania flying down and landing again on his right shoulder. It did not take long for him to locate the mission he was looking for. He was glad that there was still room for him. When he heard that a big mission was coming and that it was related to Prismata's Comet, Jaden knew that he wanted in and chance as it despite his concern for sleeping in. He can still join, and Jaden wrote his on one of the blank spaces. Letting out a sigh of relief as he finished and thought about visiting the doctor before a rumble came from his stomach. "Ahhh... I did forget to eat breakfast or lunch, rather." Jaden said under his breath as he put a hand on his stomach. Maybe I should eat something before I see Dr. Daelen, he thought. Can't go on a mission to find something in uncharted territory without some food. So turning around, Jaden went to get some lunch. He is going to need a full stomach on this new adventure, and he can't wait for it to begin.</s>	<\|message\|>Purrcival The morning was busier than usual. The Gathering Hall was a hub of activity- moreso than usual. With Prismata's Comet high in the sky, Astera had been turned into a multi-week festival ground- missions were still ongoing, but for the most part, people were taking it easy and viewing the comet during the day and night. Not for nothing, it was a breathtaking sight to say the least, Purrcival had enjoyed many a night carousing with his fellow felynes, enjoying the merry atmosphere and the lights and colors. Today was shaking up to be a bit different. The atmosphere was different, there was buzzing about a big mission to investigate a nearby crash site. Probably nothing, but it was a chance for the Research Commission to get information on locations previously undiscovered by the Research Commission. That fact alone had most of Astera interested- not just the hunters, but the Tailraiders as well. Purrcival and a small group of his fellow Tailraiders were already making their way through the crowded Gathering Hall, the smaller felynes deftly weaving their way inbetween the legs of the human occupants, while the larger Purrcival made a small wake for himself in the crowd. The smallest one was carrying a clipboard with notes, while another two were carrying large packs above their heads. "Tailraider support is going to be difficult to purrvide for this one," the smaller palico commented idly, her paws scratching something off on the clipboard, "We have no idea about the layout, the possible meownsters, nothing!" Purrcival let out a low growl, it always felt like the Tailraiders were given the short end of the stick. At least the hunters had the ability to sign up for the missions they wanted to go on- if some hunter and their partners wanted to risk life and paw venturing into unknown lands, that was their purrogative. The Tailraiders didn't have that luxury though, like most of the support staff in the Research Commission, they were meant to make the lives of the hunters easier- even at cost to themselves. "How are we supposed to respond to SOS flares if we don't know what we're jumping into?" The smaller palico continued, as the group took a seat at a smaller table, closer towards the kitchen. Purrcival nodded as a small group of cooks dropped off palico sized portions of food for them. While not particularly cliquish, the kitchen palicos were always quick to get food out to their fellow felynes, so the Tailraiders never had to wait too long to be fed. "We should tell the Commission to postpone the mission until we've had a chance to send a scouting party to map the area." the clipboard wielding palico continued between bits of wyvern-sausage and jumbo sized fish. "This mission is the scouting party," Purrcival reminded her, "Scouting parties always hold the most risk in that regard- that's probably why the reward is so high." "Mrowr, if the mission is so risky why do we never get hazard pay?" one of the other palicos grumbled. "We're the ones stuck cleaning up the mess if things go wrong." "Its just business as usual," Purrcival replied, waving a paw dismissively "That's what we signed up for anyway." Purrcival wiped his mouth with a white paw as he finished his quick and hearty meal. "Anyway, we cant afford to pawddle too long. Get the gear and wingdrakes set, I'm going to go meet with Dr. Paeris" "Huh? Why are you meeting with the doc?" one of the palicos questioned him, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "The good doctor wants me to provide direct suppurrrt for this meowsion" Purrcival replied with a shrug as he got up from the table, stuffing a sausage into his pocket. "What? How come you get the easy job?" the clipboard wielding palico complained. "Benefits of being the boss," Purrcival replied with an easy wave as he exited the Gathering Hall. A quick trip to his quarters, to equip his weapons and armor, and Purrcival was on his way to see Dr. Paeris to prepare for the mission briefing.</s>
<\|description\|>Isla Gavins Isla Gavins__________________________________________________ _________________________________________________ "Research, battles, and new-land exploration! Och, what a lovely time this'll be!" Theme Of A Researcher X Battle With A Researcher _________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ Age: 24 Gender: Female Home Region: Galar Appearance: Standing at 5'10" and weighing in at just over 160lbs, Isla sports a head of messy shoulder-length ginger hair complemented with a pair of big, brown eyes. Her fair complexion gives a nice brightness to her smooth skin, allowing her rosy-red cheeks to be clear for anyone to see. Smiles are her go-to expression, cheery demeanor keeping her lips curved as she expresses her curiosity through slight raises of her brows to whatever she's eyeing at the moment. She stands straight, having good posture that allows her full height to be expressed without fail to everyone she meets. Her usual attire consists of a yellow shirt with black stripes, under a light waist-long jacket with a skirt that remains slightly above her knees in length. Her bright legs are darkened and fully covered by her gray stockings, leading down to a pair of black dress shoes. She has a bulkier yellow coat for colder weather stowed away, along with jeans and general sleepwear for when she's not on the road. For accessories, she's always carrying around a bag for her clothing and writing supplies. The bag having a few patches on it, marking trips to both Sinnoh and Orre. It also has some initials on it, from an unspecified "D.L" and "R.R", the former having a small smile beside it while the latter is littered by hearts around the letters. A chain dangles around her neck with a fully-colored steel Chansey as it's vocal point, and she has a pair of small hoop earrings that are usually hidden by her hair. Personality: Enthusiastic is the simplest way to describe Isla. She's an eager individual, always on the move and ready to spring into action. Nothing excites her like exploration and Pokemon research, the girl willing to go to dramatic length to get her answers and not letting small things like fear get in the way of science. This obsession with research can lead to her spacing out and occasionally rambling off as she takes notes, falling out of a conversation if her mind wanders too far. Not to say she'd willingly ignore someone: She's kind, one to look out for others as a fair and generally simplistic person. Trouble is not something she can turn away from, a mother hen that's willing to stick her nose in any situation to try and solve it, especially when someone is in danger. Her tolerance for unnecessary violence outside of a sportsman competition between trainers is zilch: Seeing a mistreated Pokemon or person will get her to bare her fangs of aggression and step up to tell someone off, or worse if it comes to it. While not bossy, she's happy to make suggestions she'd think are best for other people, even if they don't accept it. Attitude directed at her can be met with a hint of sass, though she'll generally disregard it as someone still having some growing to do if they think they need to be aggressive to make a point. Such approaches yield no results with her, the woman not willing to budge to someone trying to force her hand unless the situation was truly dire. To which if extremes were taken, she'd not be one to forgive such a thing. Scientific side being the key to her adult conversations, she's got a gentle tone to calm younger crowds as well. Always ready to put the kettle on for a conversation, or cook up a storm when presented with the opportunity, she has a way of easily making connections over time. Supportive of people's goals and endeavors, it brings her joy to see others grow: And it brings a hint of sadness to see someone fall off their path and stagnate. She takes a gentle approach to Pokemon, too. Wanting to get close and study their habits though her friendliness sometimes can get her chased off. She's smarter than to go try and observe an Ursaring up close, but when it comes to smaller Pokemon she's willing to try and slowly slip into the scene to get a closer look, even if it means peeking out of a tree to get a good look at the subject of her study. And no matter where her studies take her, that smile of hers is sure to follow. Pokémon Name: Conch Species: Slowbro (Galarian) Gender: Male Ability: Quick Draw Moves: * Heal Pulse * Shell Side Arm * Disable * Zen Headbutt * Reflect * Light Screen</s> <\|message\|>Botan Naito \| ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ \| \| \| ✦ Botan Naito ✦ \| - \| --- Jarvis was doing an excellent job from where Botan was looking. He'd already found a handful of people! Well, this will be even easier than I expected! She thought to herself. Botan was happily awaiting the people on the lower deck to start making their way up, the thought that they might ignore her not even once crossing her mind. A small commotion at the stairwell nearby drew Botan's attention away from the prospective teammates below, her hair bouncing as she turned quickly to find a young man with his hand clamped in the massive maw of a Pokémon. She regarded the two of them with wide eyes, struggling to remember what this particular Pokémon was called and if it was dangerous. Maybe this person needed help?! She didn't expect that he would ask to join up with her. She blinked at the recently released man and the Pokémon beside him for a few moments, and then she dove forward with her hands outstretched and a smile from ear to ear. "Hello! Of course you are welcome to join me!" She said, grabbing Felix's hand in her own and shaking it. "Felix, was it? My name is Botan! It is a pleasure to meet you. My Pokémon partner will be back any moment now with the rest of the group." Botan was nothing if not enthusiastic. She couldn't wait for Jarvis to return now - he would be so proud of her, finding a member for the group all on her own! Nevermind the fact that Felix and his friend approached her first. Botan released her grip on Felix's hand and looked down at the Pokémon next to him, giving it a smile. "This little one brought you over here, yes? She has a sharp eye!" Meanwhile on the lower deck, the Machamp folded a pair of arms behind his back and nodded at Arlo's statement. The blue haired man was right, he was gathering suitable companions. A survivalist would be a perfect addition. Jarvis stood by, waiting patiently while the humans talked among themselves. He met the Ninetale's eyes with a neutral expression, though he breathed in and puffed his chest out a little, letting the other Pokémon know that he was no pushover despite the uniform (that he wore with pride). Once the trainers started moving, Jarvis gestured politely for them to go ahead, and he would follow after. When he spotted Botan again with a stranger, Jarvis swiftly made his way over to the young lady. He gave Felix and his Mawile a suspicious look, but then Botan was tapping on his arm and introducing everyone. "Hello everyone! I'm so glad you decided to chat with me. My name is Botan Naito, and this is Felix! We are building an amazing group for exploring Panmia Island, and you who were chosen by Jarvis are invited to join." Her demeanor was dazzling, and it seemed she was already quite comfortable with looping Felix into the whole situation even though they'd just met. The Machamp offered a shallow bow to the lot of them so they would be able to discern who exactly "Jarvis" was. Botan clasped her hands together in front of her and smiled. "An exciting proposition, isn't it?"</s> <\|message\|>Felix Charron Felix Mentions: EVERYONE Location: M.S Marlow --- --- There was no way this girl was going to go for it, not with the half-hearted greeting he'd given. He almost felt bad for his pokemon, but that's what she got for being so stubborn. "See, she doesn't eve-" Felix's eyes went wide as the girl suddenly approached him and went so far as to grab his hand. "Wh-" Apparently this girl had a very different concept of personal space. It wasn't the handshake, so much as the fact that she'd just forced one that hadn't been offered. Great, he now had a group. L-o-v-e-l-y. One of these days his pokemon wasn't going to get her way, but that day was not today. "Great. That's great. Thanks." Felix's lips formed a tight line as he fought to keep a straight face and not let too many of his tumultuous inner feelings leak to the surface. This wasn't her fault, it was his pokemon's fault, and since he'd already decided not to tie a lead brick to her pokeball and leave her at the bottom of the ocean to think about what she'd done... he had no one left to vent at. He'd simply have to endure. And then suddenly an above average height Machoke stomped over with more people. Well at least it looked like the whole group thing was going to be taken care of quickly, though he wondered why she was talking like this was his idea. "Yep... that's us... grouping up." Felix did try to smile again. His face threatened to split open, not because of how wide it was, but because of hoe hard his cheeks seemed to resist the action. "So exciting." 'Arcues please send this ship into an Avalugg.' Never mind the fact that they were approaching a tropical island and were so close they could probably swim the rest of the way anyway... All the while, Venus maintained her innocent facade, soaking up Botan's praise and completely ignoring Jarvis giving her the side-eye. At this point, no one could take her victory from her.</s>	<\|message\|>Isla Gavins 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒 𝔾𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕤 𝕃𝕠𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟: M.S Marlow - Upper Deck --- --- Things were really picking up, now. With the photographer confirming he wasn't associated with the lass and her Machamp, that just meant it was time to investigate this all further. Though before she knew it, another lad carved his own path into their little group building session, only raising their numbers further. "A survivalist?" She repeated with a slight hint of amazement. This was far beyond her first time being out in the wild, but having someone that specialized being out in the wilds sounded good to her. The jab from the photographer towards this 'survivalist' was amusing, but at the same time, Isla more often than not put blind faith in folks, and wanted to give the young man his chance. Besides, if he ended up in a bad spot, her nurse's training would come in handy to fix 'em up and teach a lesson about fibbing! Not that she thought he was lying. "Come now, don't gotta do 'em like that." She scolded lightly, before offering the blue-haired young man a smile. "Lot'sa wilderness, so I'd say someone who knows how'ta live in it is welcome aboard! Och, we can exchange some good berry recipes down the road!" She was always willing to learn, so surely someone who was quite the survivalist would have things to share. Or he'd have to make something up to keep her convinced by his bluff, though how difficult that'd be was hard to gauge at a glance. Taken away from the two lads and their (To her assumption) soon to be continued jabbing at one-another, she noticed the Machamp's communication and was genuinely impressed. Pokemon were intelligent creatures, but he definitely seemed like a well taught and polite fella. Maybe she could get a suit like that for her sweet little Slowbro? Though, he was about as slow a buried rock, so it probably wouldn't make much of a difference. It'd be cute, though. "Well, I'm ofta' investigate this lass." She announced, adjusting her sunhat as she happily made her way towards the upper deck to get a good look at her two other new companions. She couldn't help but feel like the Machamp was still a bit cautious, maybe overprotective or raised to be that way, not that she was bothered by it. As she reached her destination, she got to meet this 'Botan' face-to-face, and her presentation was nothing short of amusing. Eyes darting from her, to Felix, to Jarvis the well-dressed Machamp, her palms gently rested against each other as she offered a bright smile at the group proposition. Felix's less than enthusiastic reaction to the situation was, unfortunately for him, lost on her. "Well ain't that jus' an honor? Can't go refusin' something like that, cannae?" She removed her sunhat, holding it over her chest with a small bow, grinning ear-to-ear with excitement as she offered a small introduction to the gathering group. "Professor Gavins, at yer service! Oh, but we'll be pals, I can jus' tell. So call me Isla."</s>
<\|description\|>Isla Gavins Isla Gavins__________________________________________________ _________________________________________________ "Research, battles, and new-land exploration! Och, what a lovely time this'll be!" Theme Of A Researcher X Battle With A Researcher _________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ Age: 24 Gender: Female Home Region: Galar Appearance: Standing at 5'10" and weighing in at just over 160lbs, Isla sports a head of messy shoulder-length ginger hair complemented with a pair of big, brown eyes. Her fair complexion gives a nice brightness to her smooth skin, allowing her rosy-red cheeks to be clear for anyone to see. Smiles are her go-to expression, cheery demeanor keeping her lips curved as she expresses her curiosity through slight raises of her brows to whatever she's eyeing at the moment. She stands straight, having good posture that allows her full height to be expressed without fail to everyone she meets. Her usual attire consists of a yellow shirt with black stripes, under a light waist-long jacket with a skirt that remains slightly above her knees in length. Her bright legs are darkened and fully covered by her gray stockings, leading down to a pair of black dress shoes. She has a bulkier yellow coat for colder weather stowed away, along with jeans and general sleepwear for when she's not on the road. For accessories, she's always carrying around a bag for her clothing and writing supplies. The bag having a few patches on it, marking trips to both Sinnoh and Orre. It also has some initials on it, from an unspecified "D.L" and "R.R", the former having a small smile beside it while the latter is littered by hearts around the letters. A chain dangles around her neck with a fully-colored steel Chansey as it's vocal point, and she has a pair of small hoop earrings that are usually hidden by her hair. Personality: Enthusiastic is the simplest way to describe Isla. She's an eager individual, always on the move and ready to spring into action. Nothing excites her like exploration and Pokemon research, the girl willing to go to dramatic length to get her answers and not letting small things like fear get in the way of science. This obsession with research can lead to her spacing out and occasionally rambling off as she takes notes, falling out of a conversation if her mind wanders too far. Not to say she'd willingly ignore someone: She's kind, one to look out for others as a fair and generally simplistic person. Trouble is not something she can turn away from, a mother hen that's willing to stick her nose in any situation to try and solve it, especially when someone is in danger. Her tolerance for unnecessary violence outside of a sportsman competition between trainers is zilch: Seeing a mistreated Pokemon or person will get her to bare her fangs of aggression and step up to tell someone off, or worse if it comes to it. While not bossy, she's happy to make suggestions she'd think are best for other people, even if they don't accept it. Attitude directed at her can be met with a hint of sass, though she'll generally disregard it as someone still having some growing to do if they think they need to be aggressive to make a point. Such approaches yield no results with her, the woman not willing to budge to someone trying to force her hand unless the situation was truly dire. To which if extremes were taken, she'd not be one to forgive such a thing. Scientific side being the key to her adult conversations, she's got a gentle tone to calm younger crowds as well. Always ready to put the kettle on for a conversation, or cook up a storm when presented with the opportunity, she has a way of easily making connections over time. Supportive of people's goals and endeavors, it brings her joy to see others grow: And it brings a hint of sadness to see someone fall off their path and stagnate. She takes a gentle approach to Pokemon, too. Wanting to get close and study their habits though her friendliness sometimes can get her chased off. She's smarter than to go try and observe an Ursaring up close, but when it comes to smaller Pokemon she's willing to try and slowly slip into the scene to get a closer look, even if it means peeking out of a tree to get a good look at the subject of her study. And no matter where her studies take her, that smile of hers is sure to follow. Pokémon Name: Conch Species: Slowbro (Galarian) Gender: Male Ability: Quick Draw Moves: * Heal Pulse * Shell Side Arm * Disable * Zen Headbutt * Reflect * Light Screen</s> <\|message\|>Fjord The photographer ignored the incomplete thoughts of Mr.'Survivalist,' mainly just to annoy him for not giving the satisfaction of paying attention to the blowhard. One thing he did not expect was to be scolded and boy did he not expect her to actually buy what this big mouth was saying though he took it in his stride. Besides, it was funnier to see how this dude would flounder about trying to maintain the lie. "You're right. I need to buy him dinner and then do him like that. Or I could take you out to dinner instead." Ferris chimed in brightly, never missing a beat even if it was more of a detriment to himself. As they followed the Machamp, Ferris' Ninetails did not give much thought to the little Zorua prancing around her ankles. Such things were beneath her though the Dark-Type certainly made for far better company than that little hellcat, Fjord; being admired for the majestic beauty that she was was quite satisfying, but that Machamp was a different story. If it were not for the fact that Ferris had ordered her not to start fights then that muscle butler would have been fish food. Up on the upper deck the trio met with the Machamps trainer, a pleasant, more energetic woman, and an ever unexcited young man that looked like he was rooting for the iceberg in Titanic or whatever Pokemon version existed in this world. While the red-head with the sunhat was quite oblivious to Felix's discontent, Arlo had caught the scent like a bloodhound and honed in on it with Ferris who followed up with,"Huh, I was thinking he was the butler. Isn't there a minimum height requirement for marriage?" If Felix wanted to punch him for that not even the older trainer would blame him. This Botan lady was basically searching for a team and let her Machamp do the scouting. Huh, that was definitely one of the more unique ways that he could've been asked to join. "A team up huh? Well, adventures are always better in groups." Not that he would know, he always travelled on his own. "Ferris Roe, photographer and trainer extraordinaire." He bowed in a very Galarian manner for his introduction, yet there was a confidence about it as if he was not being polite nor was he submissive. If Jarvis' senses were as good as he thought they were, then that Pokemon should have had a grasp of what kind of strength that laid beneath the surface of this trainer. Meanwhile, Fjord was being chased by a Rockruff and now he heard over the PA that they were going to be docking soon! The Meowth sprinted around the ship, ducking and weaving through people and Pokemon until he caught sight of his trainer up on the deck above so he made a mad dash towards him. "Mreow!" "Fjord? What's going...? Where did you get all that food?"</s> <\|message\|>Felix Charron Felix Mentions: EVERYONE Location: M.S Marlow --- --- Venus might have celebrated a hair too early. Her victory could totally be taken from her, and she feared it was happening before her eyes. For, as the newcomers spoke... Felix wasn't one to get flustered all that easily, but he was already a little out of sorts, and now totally caught off guard. His face flushed ten different shades of scarlet in about two seconds before he finally snapped. "Wh-who the hell are you marrying me off to!? I only met her ten seconds before you did!" Felix shouted back at the presumptuous gaggle of strangers. So furiously flustered was he in general, he never even bothered to hone in on Ferris for his remark about Felix's height. "Ugh, I didn't even want to be here in the first place!" He took a sizeable step away from Botan and then crossed his arms while averting his eyes from everyone else. Venus's actual mouth hung open in dismay before she managed to gather her courage to approach her flustered trainer. Shorter than average or not, the poor mawile was even shorter, so the best she could do was cling to his leg while frantically patting his knee in vain in the hopes her presence would calm him down before he abandoned the group entirely...</s> <\|message\|>Botan Naito \| ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ \| \| \| ✦ Botan Naito ✦ \| - \| --- At first things were going quite well. Excellent, even, although Felix didn't look quite as enthusiastic as his words would imply (he did say it was "great" and "exciting" after all). Botan's cheerful smile was in place while the three from the lower deck introduced themselves. She was especially excited once Isla and Ferris mentioned their occupations. An accomplished trainer and a photographer? Lovely, they'd have plenty of protection and some physical memories to share! Plus a professor? A real professor?! Botan's eyes were practically star-shaped. Isla probably knew all there was to know about Pokémon! Yes, everything was going splendidly. Until. At about the same time as Felix, Botan's face instantly resembled a tamato berry. The sudden heat blooming on her cheeks made it look like steam was coming from her ears too. "U-um, wait, we aren't..." The follow up comment from Ferris was kind of harsh too - not to mention the butlers of the Naito family would never dress like that. Botan's quieter corrections were drowned out but Felix's louder objections. She looked a little hurt when Felix stepped away from her, but tried to compose herself after a bit of nervous laughter. Sensing that she was becoming distressed, Jarvis stepped up behind Botan for support - and to fix all of the boys gathered with a look of warning. Only Isla was spared. "Well... s-sorry about the confusion," Botan said. She coughed into her fist to clear her throat. "Yes, he and I just met. We are all strangers... but not for long!" The shore of the island was in view, so if the lot of them were grouping up they would have to seal the deal now, lest any of them wanted to take their chances finding a group once already on land. With this in mind, Botan brought the smile back to her face, but if it was a little smaller than before the only one who'd be able to tell was herself. She wouldn't take 'no' for an answer! "I think we would all do well together," she said. Slowly she turned to Felix, giving him an apologetic look. "Which includes you. You don't really mean that, right...?" Botan glanced at the Mawile, hoping it could convince her trainer. Meanwhile a Pokémon came running up the stairs, followed by another and a young woman. Botan blinked in surprise. Maybe with his intrusion, the focus could shift away from Felix and he would reconsider? Botan didn't want to lose the person "she" recruited if possible.</s>	<\|message\|>Isla Gavins 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒 𝔾𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕤 𝕃𝕠𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟: M.S Marlow - Upper Deck --- --- To Isla's dismay, things soured a bit in the group as the boys she'd brought up with her were not exactly the most tactful individuals. While Arlo was making assumptions, Ferris was taking jabs like he had back on the main deck. Seemed to be a normal part of his personality, and she personally wasn't feeling positive about it. Sunhat back atop her head, she crossed her arms at the building tension, shooting the two loudmouthed boys a short but obvious glare before turning her attention back towards Botan as she tried to fix the situation. Poor gal had to recover from the embarrassment first, and who could blame her? Isla knew she'd feel the same way if someone assumed something like that. Her mind wandered to the flirtatious reply photo-boy had offered before they made their way up here, and her face visibly scrunched. "Aye, can't help but think the same!" Isla responded to Botan's enthusiasm about them working well together, attempting to read the room, or, uh, the ship, and help get things on track. Noting her look towards Felix, Isla approached Botan at a slow pace, head turning to eye Jarvis for a moment since he seemed to be a little tense and she didn't want to offend the large Pokemon by coming closer to his trainer. Standing closer to her was more of a signal that she was more willing to group up, and generally agreed with her course of action. "I think we jus' need a little more decency an' manners." She added, eyeing Ferris in particular. Arlo jumped the gun with assumptions but at least he wasn't directly insulting this Felix lad. Or with how much the boy took offense, maybe it counted. Isla figured if he had a little maturity he could allow bygones to be bygones, but she doubted he'd be very motivated to do much of anything if more immature comments came his way. It was surprising to say the least when she saw a Galarian Meowth approaching the group in a bit of a hurry with some food. Judging by Ferris' reaction, she also assumed the little thing nabbed it from someone else with how much of a hurry it was in. But how this was handled was more up to the trainer than her; It'd help her get a bit of a better judging of his character before they hit land, which she was starting to feel was a necessity with the whole moment of awkwardness she had to just endure.</s>
<\|description\|>Isla Gavins Isla Gavins__________________________________________________ _________________________________________________ "Research, battles, and new-land exploration! Och, what a lovely time this'll be!" Theme Of A Researcher X Battle With A Researcher _________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ Age: 24 Gender: Female Home Region: Galar Appearance: Standing at 5'10" and weighing in at just over 160lbs, Isla sports a head of messy shoulder-length ginger hair complemented with a pair of big, brown eyes. Her fair complexion gives a nice brightness to her smooth skin, allowing her rosy-red cheeks to be clear for anyone to see. Smiles are her go-to expression, cheery demeanor keeping her lips curved as she expresses her curiosity through slight raises of her brows to whatever she's eyeing at the moment. She stands straight, having good posture that allows her full height to be expressed without fail to everyone she meets. Her usual attire consists of a yellow shirt with black stripes, under a light waist-long jacket with a skirt that remains slightly above her knees in length. Her bright legs are darkened and fully covered by her gray stockings, leading down to a pair of black dress shoes. She has a bulkier yellow coat for colder weather stowed away, along with jeans and general sleepwear for when she's not on the road. For accessories, she's always carrying around a bag for her clothing and writing supplies. The bag having a few patches on it, marking trips to both Sinnoh and Orre. It also has some initials on it, from an unspecified "D.L" and "R.R", the former having a small smile beside it while the latter is littered by hearts around the letters. A chain dangles around her neck with a fully-colored steel Chansey as it's vocal point, and she has a pair of small hoop earrings that are usually hidden by her hair. Personality: Enthusiastic is the simplest way to describe Isla. She's an eager individual, always on the move and ready to spring into action. Nothing excites her like exploration and Pokemon research, the girl willing to go to dramatic length to get her answers and not letting small things like fear get in the way of science. This obsession with research can lead to her spacing out and occasionally rambling off as she takes notes, falling out of a conversation if her mind wanders too far. Not to say she'd willingly ignore someone: She's kind, one to look out for others as a fair and generally simplistic person. Trouble is not something she can turn away from, a mother hen that's willing to stick her nose in any situation to try and solve it, especially when someone is in danger. Her tolerance for unnecessary violence outside of a sportsman competition between trainers is zilch: Seeing a mistreated Pokemon or person will get her to bare her fangs of aggression and step up to tell someone off, or worse if it comes to it. While not bossy, she's happy to make suggestions she'd think are best for other people, even if they don't accept it. Attitude directed at her can be met with a hint of sass, though she'll generally disregard it as someone still having some growing to do if they think they need to be aggressive to make a point. Such approaches yield no results with her, the woman not willing to budge to someone trying to force her hand unless the situation was truly dire. To which if extremes were taken, she'd not be one to forgive such a thing. Scientific side being the key to her adult conversations, she's got a gentle tone to calm younger crowds as well. Always ready to put the kettle on for a conversation, or cook up a storm when presented with the opportunity, she has a way of easily making connections over time. Supportive of people's goals and endeavors, it brings her joy to see others grow: And it brings a hint of sadness to see someone fall off their path and stagnate. She takes a gentle approach to Pokemon, too. Wanting to get close and study their habits though her friendliness sometimes can get her chased off. She's smarter than to go try and observe an Ursaring up close, but when it comes to smaller Pokemon she's willing to try and slowly slip into the scene to get a closer look, even if it means peeking out of a tree to get a good look at the subject of her study. And no matter where her studies take her, that smile of hers is sure to follow. Pokémon Name: Conch Species: Slowbro (Galarian) Gender: Male Ability: Quick Draw Moves: * Heal Pulse * Shell Side Arm * Disable * Zen Headbutt * Reflect * Light Screen</s> <\|message\|>Arlo Knox Ayana & ArloMentions: Yes. Location: Panmia Island - Base Camp --- --- Arlo clutched the Pokedex to his chest as the others talked amongst themselves. He found himself just daydreaming about all that was ahead, the comments of his group members weaving even more possibilities into his reverie subconsciously. He held back a wide smile at the thought of catching his first Pokemon. He'd never even tried before, being that his current Pokemon was a gift from his parents and was a perfect companion for him. But having more friends could never hurt! Arlo was broken out of his trance by the others talking about how to go about starting their trek. He looked down at his Pokedex. The map showed a fine outline of Panmia island and the other, larger islands of the region, but aside from that the detail was limited. It did provide elevation analytics for most of the region though, it seemed, so finding elevated landmarks would be easier, were there any. Honestly to him it didn't matter much whether they had a plan or not. It seemed on the other hand Ayana wasn't entirely looking to provide her own input either. She listened to the group discussing amongst themselves as her eyes finally left her brother and explored their surroundings as she stood with her arms across her chest. Her Rockruff wandered around nearby, sniffing the shoes of their new travel partners. Arlo turned his glance back to the Pokedex wondering how exactly they were going to get across the bay of sorts to get to what looked like the mainland island north of Panmia Island. But soon his thoughts were interrupted. A lanky, middle-aged man pulling along a large cart filled with cases, boxes, tarps, and all manner of things approached the group, adjusting his glasses as he looked over its members. "Hello there young people! I don't believe I've visited your group yet." He said, interrupting the conversation and setting the wagon still as he shifted his heavy, overflowing backpack. He did a short spin and stepped around the side of his wagon before he began digging through the contents intently. "Don't mind me I'm just here to provide you a few travel gifts, curtesy of the Exploratory Office!" There was a short silence from him apart from his rummaging as he struggled to gather the gear he was trying to find. "Ah, here we are." He said, fishing out a few last items and tucking them into a travel bag. He thrusted the package forward to the person he was closest to, that happening to be Ayana, before returning to his wagon and reaching into a box for two specific items held in each hand. He approached again and handed an item each to two others, those being Isla and Felix. He smiled to himself, seeming content with the gifts before he began speaking. "These two here are very special items." He went, tapping the black top-hinging box that Isla held, and tweaking a small antenna on the radio-esque device he'd given to Felix. "This here is a revival-synthesizer-" He continued, tapping the black box intently. "-useful for generating a few revives per few days, in case your Pokemon become quite injured and you find yourself stuck without being able to heal them to consciousness! Take care of it- it's expensive and you won't get another." He said, the last bit developing a serious tone. But the excited quality of his voice quickly returned. "And this here is a universal tracker/inventory request device. You can use this to request a small supply drop of a couple items from most surface-level areas in the region. The supplies can take quite a few days to arrive and not every request is guaranteed though, so don't rely on it all the time, alright?" He finished looking at their faces to make sure they understood what he was saying. Seeming content, he returned to his wagon and hoisted its pulley over his shoulder. "Welp, it seems like you younguns are all ready to explore this new world-" He said happily. "-I wish you the best of luck!" He finished, and began rolling his wagon away just as he had before, his eyes scanning for other groups. Ayana seemed a bit surprised with the briefness of the gift-giving, but looked down at the bag thrust into her hands anyways. It seemed a bit full and peeking inside she saw an assortment of Pokéballs and other basic gear. Arlo chimed in happily as the man left. "Well then! It looks like we're all ready to go, huh? I reckon it doesn't matter too much where we start off, the other islands are so huge there's no way we end up running into another group too often, right? Might as well just head straight onward! Maybe to the Northern Coast?" He asked excitedly, looking at each of the other group members.</s> <\|message\|>Felix Charron Felix Mentions: @all y'all Location: Around --- --- "Exactly! We're on an uncharted island, that's why we-!" Felix had to bite his lip to keep himself from blowing up on Ferris again. He ran a hand down his face, taking a deep breath as Isla took over the conversation, the revelation of her partner pokemon, one he'd actually never seen before, helping to distract from the near loss of his cool. "Sure, yeah, that could work," Felix mumbled, pulling up the "map" on his pokedex. "That means we're leaving here entirely, which means we need to keep an eye on the sun so we know when to start looking for a place to set up camp. I don't need a 12-step plan, I ju-" And suddenly he was having some strange device shoved into his hands that could apparently call for supplies if it became necessary. That made sense, actually, since even Jarvis couldn't carry an endless supply of food and they could be here a while. With that distraction, Arlo took the chance to suggest the North coast, in other words, that they should just cut across to the entire other side of the island. It was extreme idea, but technically in line with Isla's idea. To be fair, he doubted many others would be so bold as to go to the entire opposite end of the island so soon. Felix glanced back at the map, trying to wedge the radio thing under one arm, but in the end opting to drop it into Venus's arms who fumbled slightly, but managed to keep it from hitting the ground, letting out a sigh of relief as the device settled in her grasp. "We could... and if we veer just a little east, by then we could call in supplies and maybe hop over to explore some of the smaller islands if we've found a pokemon that can carry us, or maybe we can just call for an inflatable boat or something..." Felix mused, but then paused. Was... he getting into this? Whatever, he was already here and he'd promised Venus he'd "give it a go" after all. If he was going to do this, he might as well make it worthwhile. "We can worry about that last bit once we get there, but for now that's a good enough plan for me." He couldn't help but shoot a sideways look at Ferris as he spoke, though he did his best to keep his expression neutral. "Unless anyone objects?" Ferris hadn't offered anything helpful, and thus hadn't given an opinion, and Botan hadn't had a chance to chime in yet.</s>	<\|message\|>Isla Gavins 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒 𝔾𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕤 𝕃𝕠𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟: Panmia Island Camp --- --- The items put into their possession from the Exploratory Office brought a look of surprise to Isla's face. Something that could create those little 'revive' things, huh? She hadn't seen such a device herself, but figured it'd be a good thing to have nonetheless. She could aid injured Pokemon, but couldn't revive anyone fainted. It'd definitely prove invaluable if they ended up in a tough spot. She tapped at it curiously, fingers trailing around the box for a moment as she simply took in the information provided. "Why, thank ya!" She happily exclaimed to the worker, before he set off. What a swell parting gift! Felix and Arlo seemed to be following along with her logic for the most part, though there was a fact that the island was quite large. There was plenty of ways to splinter off, she was sure, but a wood trek sounded fun. "No objections from me, if everyone's feelin' ready, that is?" Isla took the time to account for Arlo's quiet companion through most of this, that seasick lass. Surely the silence wasn't fear, considering she had a survivalist for a brother, right? Maybe she was still a little woozy from the ship. Plus, being so quiet, maybe she was a shy one! Cute, but in a traveling situation like this, it was much better to get to know your traveling partners. There'd be no fun moping the whole way! She'd have to break the ice while the others got excited, which wasn't particularly a problem. She skipped past the Rockruff who was instead met with the slow and blank-faced creature still standing in her place. It looked down, eyes locking onto the dog before responding to being sniffed with a simplistic and monotone "Bruh." Ayana could easily notice an approach from Isla, with a big peachy smile on her face. Hands holding the revival-synthesizer (Which she noted to put away before they actually set off,) She couldn't offer a hand like she normally would. But that didn't mean the professor couldn't offer her words. "Noticed you weren't feelin' top notch on the ship," She commented, concern in her calm tone. If Ayana was the shy type, Isla didn't want to startle her. "I hope you're feeling alright to travel. If not, we can surely wait a bit longer." It didn't occur to the woman that Ayana could've felt against grouping up, mostly due to Isla herself being an outward and friendly sort. Figuring instead a caring approach and some concern would help ease her into the surroundings that were much louder than her by a long shot.</s>
<\|description\|>Felix Charron Felix__________________________________________________ _________________________________________________ _________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ Age: 19 Gender: M Home Region: Kalos Appearance: Relatively short at around 5'5" and with a tendency to wear trendy clothes that are definitely style over function, as well as a fair bit of jewelry. (Honestly, just go by the picture... I suck at writing these parts.) Personality: He comes off as a solid mixture of aloof and abrasive. He's not terribly patient, either, so it's not hard to get him into a bad mood. He's not one to snap and start screaming at you, but it's not uncommon for him to fire off a few insensitive remarks if one ends up on his bad side. HIs somewhat antisocial behavior does not mean that he's shy, however. Far from it, and he's the farthest thing imaginable from a doormat. In normal conversation, when not otherwise incensed, he is typically polite if somewhat curt. There is also, as with many people, another side to him. A softer side that will come out without warning and at the most unexpected of times. He's not trying to hide it or anything, he just rarely has reason to show it. Blink and you'll miss it. Pokémon (1-2 mons) Name: Venus Species: Mawile Gender: F Ability: Sheer Force Moves: * Iron Defense * Crunch * Fire Fang * Thunder Punch * Iron Head * Baton Pass</s> <\|message\|>Felix Charron Felix Mentions: EVERYONE Location: M.S Marlow --- --- There was no way this girl was going to go for it, not with the half-hearted greeting he'd given. He almost felt bad for his pokemon, but that's what she got for being so stubborn. "See, she doesn't eve-" Felix's eyes went wide as the girl suddenly approached him and went so far as to grab his hand. "Wh-" Apparently this girl had a very different concept of personal space. It wasn't the handshake, so much as the fact that she'd just forced one that hadn't been offered. Great, he now had a group. L-o-v-e-l-y. One of these days his pokemon wasn't going to get her way, but that day was not today. "Great. That's great. Thanks." Felix's lips formed a tight line as he fought to keep a straight face and not let too many of his tumultuous inner feelings leak to the surface. This wasn't her fault, it was his pokemon's fault, and since he'd already decided not to tie a lead brick to her pokeball and leave her at the bottom of the ocean to think about what she'd done... he had no one left to vent at. He'd simply have to endure. And then suddenly an above average height Machoke stomped over with more people. Well at least it looked like the whole group thing was going to be taken care of quickly, though he wondered why she was talking like this was his idea. "Yep... that's us... grouping up." Felix did try to smile again. His face threatened to split open, not because of how wide it was, but because of hoe hard his cheeks seemed to resist the action. "So exciting." 'Arcues please send this ship into an Avalugg.' Never mind the fact that they were approaching a tropical island and were so close they could probably swim the rest of the way anyway... All the while, Venus maintained her innocent facade, soaking up Botan's praise and completely ignoring Jarvis giving her the side-eye. At this point, no one could take her victory from her.</s> <\|message\|>Isla Gavins 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒 𝔾𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕤 𝕃𝕠𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟: M.S Marlow - Upper Deck --- --- Things were really picking up, now. With the photographer confirming he wasn't associated with the lass and her Machamp, that just meant it was time to investigate this all further. Though before she knew it, another lad carved his own path into their little group building session, only raising their numbers further. "A survivalist?" She repeated with a slight hint of amazement. This was far beyond her first time being out in the wild, but having someone that specialized being out in the wilds sounded good to her. The jab from the photographer towards this 'survivalist' was amusing, but at the same time, Isla more often than not put blind faith in folks, and wanted to give the young man his chance. Besides, if he ended up in a bad spot, her nurse's training would come in handy to fix 'em up and teach a lesson about fibbing! Not that she thought he was lying. "Come now, don't gotta do 'em like that." She scolded lightly, before offering the blue-haired young man a smile. "Lot'sa wilderness, so I'd say someone who knows how'ta live in it is welcome aboard! Och, we can exchange some good berry recipes down the road!" She was always willing to learn, so surely someone who was quite the survivalist would have things to share. Or he'd have to make something up to keep her convinced by his bluff, though how difficult that'd be was hard to gauge at a glance. Taken away from the two lads and their (To her assumption) soon to be continued jabbing at one-another, she noticed the Machamp's communication and was genuinely impressed. Pokemon were intelligent creatures, but he definitely seemed like a well taught and polite fella. Maybe she could get a suit like that for her sweet little Slowbro? Though, he was about as slow a buried rock, so it probably wouldn't make much of a difference. It'd be cute, though. "Well, I'm ofta' investigate this lass." She announced, adjusting her sunhat as she happily made her way towards the upper deck to get a good look at her two other new companions. She couldn't help but feel like the Machamp was still a bit cautious, maybe overprotective or raised to be that way, not that she was bothered by it. As she reached her destination, she got to meet this 'Botan' face-to-face, and her presentation was nothing short of amusing. Eyes darting from her, to Felix, to Jarvis the well-dressed Machamp, her palms gently rested against each other as she offered a bright smile at the group proposition. Felix's less than enthusiastic reaction to the situation was, unfortunately for him, lost on her. "Well ain't that jus' an honor? Can't go refusin' something like that, cannae?" She removed her sunhat, holding it over her chest with a small bow, grinning ear-to-ear with excitement as she offered a small introduction to the gathering group. "Professor Gavins, at yer service! Oh, but we'll be pals, I can jus' tell. So call me Isla."</s> <\|message\|>Arlo Knox Ayana & ArloMentions: Yes. Location: MS Marlow - Main/Upper Deck --- --- The chipper expression on Arlo's face faltered for only a second as his eyes moved to the dark-haired guy who offered him a snide remark. His brow raised at the sass, his eyes scanning the man a bit as the other walked off. "Pfft.. bait? I'll show you-" He didn't finish his thought as a seemingly friendlier face instead offered him a smile and the benefit of the doubt. The sun-hatted redhead seemed the cheery sort - so at least there'd be some good vibes in the group, much to Arlo's appreciation. The idea of shoving the debby-downers into a group together with his sister was appealing, but he shook the thought off as he realized the girl in front of him actually took his survivalist remark seriously. "Aha- yeah- true, true. Maybe." He said as he scratched the side of his head. Either way, it seemed the Machamp was waiting for the few of them to meet up with its owner on the upper deck - and who was he to keep a lady waiting? They made their way up to the upper deck, the small Zorua opting to prance along in awe behind the heels of the unfamiliar, majestic-looking Alolan-Ninetales. Arlo himself opted not to drag his sister along for now - she was sick enough as is, it seemed. Well, he mostly chose not to because she would adamantly deny joining any sort of group- but hey, what she doesn't know won't hurt her. Until it's too late. It seemed that the owner of the Machamp though was a much more agreeable sort than his sister was. She seemed more than happy to welcome the three of them to the already-two-man group. Arlo had to hold back a small giggle at the imminent despair that was sure to come once his sibling found herself stuck along this journey with all these people. He didn't, however, hold back the less-snarky smile that grew across his face as he was greeted warmly. He lightly placed his hands on his hips as the little introductions were passed around. "Well aren't we just a lovely bunch? Thank you for inviting us over, Mr. and Mrs. Naito." He greeted, offering a slight nod towards Botan and Felix. "I'm Arlo." In the meantime on the main deck, Ayana released a frustrated groan. It was just what she needed. Some random Pokémon running off with their stuff. She took a couple uneasy steps forward as her hand moved to her hip and grabbed a Pokéball, the small red-and-white orb growing to fit her hand. There was the tell-tale tone of the Pokéball releasing before a small, brown Pokémon landed in front of her with a happy "Rockra!" "Hey buddy." She greeted the Rockruff, earning a concerned head-tilt from the canine as he caught a glimpse of her downtrodden condition. "Help me catch that- thing, alright?" She said, pointing towards the Meowth as it scampered away between people and Pokémon with its loot. Rockruff wasted no time in following the command, pouncing after it as Ayana followed behind in her light-headed state. She paid no mind to the overhead PA as it tolled more info and instructions regarding to imminent docking process.</s> <\|message\|>Fjord The photographer ignored the incomplete thoughts of Mr.'Survivalist,' mainly just to annoy him for not giving the satisfaction of paying attention to the blowhard. One thing he did not expect was to be scolded and boy did he not expect her to actually buy what this big mouth was saying though he took it in his stride. Besides, it was funnier to see how this dude would flounder about trying to maintain the lie. "You're right. I need to buy him dinner and then do him like that. Or I could take you out to dinner instead." Ferris chimed in brightly, never missing a beat even if it was more of a detriment to himself. As they followed the Machamp, Ferris' Ninetails did not give much thought to the little Zorua prancing around her ankles. Such things were beneath her though the Dark-Type certainly made for far better company than that little hellcat, Fjord; being admired for the majestic beauty that she was was quite satisfying, but that Machamp was a different story. If it were not for the fact that Ferris had ordered her not to start fights then that muscle butler would have been fish food. Up on the upper deck the trio met with the Machamps trainer, a pleasant, more energetic woman, and an ever unexcited young man that looked like he was rooting for the iceberg in Titanic or whatever Pokemon version existed in this world. While the red-head with the sunhat was quite oblivious to Felix's discontent, Arlo had caught the scent like a bloodhound and honed in on it with Ferris who followed up with,"Huh, I was thinking he was the butler. Isn't there a minimum height requirement for marriage?" If Felix wanted to punch him for that not even the older trainer would blame him. This Botan lady was basically searching for a team and let her Machamp do the scouting. Huh, that was definitely one of the more unique ways that he could've been asked to join. "A team up huh? Well, adventures are always better in groups." Not that he would know, he always travelled on his own. "Ferris Roe, photographer and trainer extraordinaire." He bowed in a very Galarian manner for his introduction, yet there was a confidence about it as if he was not being polite nor was he submissive. If Jarvis' senses were as good as he thought they were, then that Pokemon should have had a grasp of what kind of strength that laid beneath the surface of this trainer. Meanwhile, Fjord was being chased by a Rockruff and now he heard over the PA that they were going to be docking soon! The Meowth sprinted around the ship, ducking and weaving through people and Pokemon until he caught sight of his trainer up on the deck above so he made a mad dash towards him. "Mreow!" "Fjord? What's going...? Where did you get all that food?"</s>	<\|message\|>Felix Charron Felix Mentions: EVERYONE Location: M.S Marlow --- --- Venus might have celebrated a hair too early. Her victory could totally be taken from her, and she feared it was happening before her eyes. For, as the newcomers spoke... Felix wasn't one to get flustered all that easily, but he was already a little out of sorts, and now totally caught off guard. His face flushed ten different shades of scarlet in about two seconds before he finally snapped. "Wh-who the hell are you marrying me off to!? I only met her ten seconds before you did!" Felix shouted back at the presumptuous gaggle of strangers. So furiously flustered was he in general, he never even bothered to hone in on Ferris for his remark about Felix's height. "Ugh, I didn't even want to be here in the first place!" He took a sizeable step away from Botan and then crossed his arms while averting his eyes from everyone else. Venus's actual mouth hung open in dismay before she managed to gather her courage to approach her flustered trainer. Shorter than average or not, the poor mawile was even shorter, so the best she could do was cling to his leg while frantically patting his knee in vain in the hopes her presence would calm him down before he abandoned the group entirely...</s>
<\|description\|>Felix Charron Felix__________________________________________________ _________________________________________________ _________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ Age: 19 Gender: M Home Region: Kalos Appearance: Relatively short at around 5'5" and with a tendency to wear trendy clothes that are definitely style over function, as well as a fair bit of jewelry. (Honestly, just go by the picture... I suck at writing these parts.) Personality: He comes off as a solid mixture of aloof and abrasive. He's not terribly patient, either, so it's not hard to get him into a bad mood. He's not one to snap and start screaming at you, but it's not uncommon for him to fire off a few insensitive remarks if one ends up on his bad side. HIs somewhat antisocial behavior does not mean that he's shy, however. Far from it, and he's the farthest thing imaginable from a doormat. In normal conversation, when not otherwise incensed, he is typically polite if somewhat curt. There is also, as with many people, another side to him. A softer side that will come out without warning and at the most unexpected of times. He's not trying to hide it or anything, he just rarely has reason to show it. Blink and you'll miss it. Pokémon (1-2 mons) Name: Venus Species: Mawile Gender: F Ability: Sheer Force Moves: * Iron Defense * Crunch * Fire Fang * Thunder Punch * Iron Head * Baton Pass</s> <\|message\|>Fjord The photographer ignored the incomplete thoughts of Mr.'Survivalist,' mainly just to annoy him for not giving the satisfaction of paying attention to the blowhard. One thing he did not expect was to be scolded and boy did he not expect her to actually buy what this big mouth was saying though he took it in his stride. Besides, it was funnier to see how this dude would flounder about trying to maintain the lie. "You're right. I need to buy him dinner and then do him like that. Or I could take you out to dinner instead." Ferris chimed in brightly, never missing a beat even if it was more of a detriment to himself. As they followed the Machamp, Ferris' Ninetails did not give much thought to the little Zorua prancing around her ankles. Such things were beneath her though the Dark-Type certainly made for far better company than that little hellcat, Fjord; being admired for the majestic beauty that she was was quite satisfying, but that Machamp was a different story. If it were not for the fact that Ferris had ordered her not to start fights then that muscle butler would have been fish food. Up on the upper deck the trio met with the Machamps trainer, a pleasant, more energetic woman, and an ever unexcited young man that looked like he was rooting for the iceberg in Titanic or whatever Pokemon version existed in this world. While the red-head with the sunhat was quite oblivious to Felix's discontent, Arlo had caught the scent like a bloodhound and honed in on it with Ferris who followed up with,"Huh, I was thinking he was the butler. Isn't there a minimum height requirement for marriage?" If Felix wanted to punch him for that not even the older trainer would blame him. This Botan lady was basically searching for a team and let her Machamp do the scouting. Huh, that was definitely one of the more unique ways that he could've been asked to join. "A team up huh? Well, adventures are always better in groups." Not that he would know, he always travelled on his own. "Ferris Roe, photographer and trainer extraordinaire." He bowed in a very Galarian manner for his introduction, yet there was a confidence about it as if he was not being polite nor was he submissive. If Jarvis' senses were as good as he thought they were, then that Pokemon should have had a grasp of what kind of strength that laid beneath the surface of this trainer. Meanwhile, Fjord was being chased by a Rockruff and now he heard over the PA that they were going to be docking soon! The Meowth sprinted around the ship, ducking and weaving through people and Pokemon until he caught sight of his trainer up on the deck above so he made a mad dash towards him. "Mreow!" "Fjord? What's going...? Where did you get all that food?"</s> <\|message\|>Felix Charron Felix Mentions: EVERYONE Location: M.S Marlow --- --- Venus might have celebrated a hair too early. Her victory could totally be taken from her, and she feared it was happening before her eyes. For, as the newcomers spoke... Felix wasn't one to get flustered all that easily, but he was already a little out of sorts, and now totally caught off guard. His face flushed ten different shades of scarlet in about two seconds before he finally snapped. "Wh-who the hell are you marrying me off to!? I only met her ten seconds before you did!" Felix shouted back at the presumptuous gaggle of strangers. So furiously flustered was he in general, he never even bothered to hone in on Ferris for his remark about Felix's height. "Ugh, I didn't even want to be here in the first place!" He took a sizeable step away from Botan and then crossed his arms while averting his eyes from everyone else. Venus's actual mouth hung open in dismay before she managed to gather her courage to approach her flustered trainer. Shorter than average or not, the poor mawile was even shorter, so the best she could do was cling to his leg while frantically patting his knee in vain in the hopes her presence would calm him down before he abandoned the group entirely...</s> <\|message\|>Botan Naito \| ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ \| \| \| ✦ Botan Naito ✦ \| - \| --- At first things were going quite well. Excellent, even, although Felix didn't look quite as enthusiastic as his words would imply (he did say it was "great" and "exciting" after all). Botan's cheerful smile was in place while the three from the lower deck introduced themselves. She was especially excited once Isla and Ferris mentioned their occupations. An accomplished trainer and a photographer? Lovely, they'd have plenty of protection and some physical memories to share! Plus a professor? A real professor?! Botan's eyes were practically star-shaped. Isla probably knew all there was to know about Pokémon! Yes, everything was going splendidly. Until. At about the same time as Felix, Botan's face instantly resembled a tamato berry. The sudden heat blooming on her cheeks made it look like steam was coming from her ears too. "U-um, wait, we aren't..." The follow up comment from Ferris was kind of harsh too - not to mention the butlers of the Naito family would never dress like that. Botan's quieter corrections were drowned out but Felix's louder objections. She looked a little hurt when Felix stepped away from her, but tried to compose herself after a bit of nervous laughter. Sensing that she was becoming distressed, Jarvis stepped up behind Botan for support - and to fix all of the boys gathered with a look of warning. Only Isla was spared. "Well... s-sorry about the confusion," Botan said. She coughed into her fist to clear her throat. "Yes, he and I just met. We are all strangers... but not for long!" The shore of the island was in view, so if the lot of them were grouping up they would have to seal the deal now, lest any of them wanted to take their chances finding a group once already on land. With this in mind, Botan brought the smile back to her face, but if it was a little smaller than before the only one who'd be able to tell was herself. She wouldn't take 'no' for an answer! "I think we would all do well together," she said. Slowly she turned to Felix, giving him an apologetic look. "Which includes you. You don't really mean that, right...?" Botan glanced at the Mawile, hoping it could convince her trainer. Meanwhile a Pokémon came running up the stairs, followed by another and a young woman. Botan blinked in surprise. Maybe with his intrusion, the focus could shift away from Felix and he would reconsider? Botan didn't want to lose the person "she" recruited if possible.</s> <\|message\|>Isla Gavins 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒 𝔾𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕤 𝕃𝕠𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟: M.S Marlow - Upper Deck --- --- To Isla's dismay, things soured a bit in the group as the boys she'd brought up with her were not exactly the most tactful individuals. While Arlo was making assumptions, Ferris was taking jabs like he had back on the main deck. Seemed to be a normal part of his personality, and she personally wasn't feeling positive about it. Sunhat back atop her head, she crossed her arms at the building tension, shooting the two loudmouthed boys a short but obvious glare before turning her attention back towards Botan as she tried to fix the situation. Poor gal had to recover from the embarrassment first, and who could blame her? Isla knew she'd feel the same way if someone assumed something like that. Her mind wandered to the flirtatious reply photo-boy had offered before they made their way up here, and her face visibly scrunched. "Aye, can't help but think the same!" Isla responded to Botan's enthusiasm about them working well together, attempting to read the room, or, uh, the ship, and help get things on track. Noting her look towards Felix, Isla approached Botan at a slow pace, head turning to eye Jarvis for a moment since he seemed to be a little tense and she didn't want to offend the large Pokemon by coming closer to his trainer. Standing closer to her was more of a signal that she was more willing to group up, and generally agreed with her course of action. "I think we jus' need a little more decency an' manners." She added, eyeing Ferris in particular. Arlo jumped the gun with assumptions but at least he wasn't directly insulting this Felix lad. Or with how much the boy took offense, maybe it counted. Isla figured if he had a little maturity he could allow bygones to be bygones, but she doubted he'd be very motivated to do much of anything if more immature comments came his way. It was surprising to say the least when she saw a Galarian Meowth approaching the group in a bit of a hurry with some food. Judging by Ferris' reaction, she also assumed the little thing nabbed it from someone else with how much of a hurry it was in. But how this was handled was more up to the trainer than her; It'd help her get a bit of a better judging of his character before they hit land, which she was starting to feel was a necessity with the whole moment of awkwardness she had to just endure.</s>	<\|message\|>Felix Charron Felix Mentions: EVERYONE Location: M.S Marlow --- --- Why had he blown up like that? Felix wondered as he stood there, replaying the last few seconds over in his head. He was in a bad mood, he knew that much, but a simple misunderstanding shouldn't have gotten to him like that. No, but the other comments certainly had. Two barbs in one breath. OK, now he was just getting even angrier thinking about it. One could see it happen in real time. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, practically boiling over and seething with anger. His mawile's pupils shrank to pinpoints in trepidation. She could feel the rage vibrating through him and into her. However, no further outbursts followed. He pulled his hand away and opened his eyes again, though he didn't look exactly calm. If anything, he looked even madder than before. "I... have no problem being part of your group," he finally spoke, looking at Botan, the emphasis put on his words making his meaning clear. She hadn't done anything wrong. If anything, somehow he almost felt like the bad guy at this point. "But don't expect me to pose for any of his photos." Oh, he was sure he was here to photograph the island more than anything else, but that wasn't the point. Felix hadn't even said two words to the man before getting needled at. Ferris had put his worst possible foot forward and Felix wasn't going to forget it any time soon. As for Arlo and Isla? Arlo might've started this with his careless words, but... it wasn't much of a crime in hindsight. Isla was as innocent as Botan. Fine, just one bad apple he could deal with. With that settled, he simply focused on calming his nerves. He might have been blaming someone else, but he still knew his little tantrum wasn't a good look. Meanwhile, Venus finally let out a long sigh of relief and let go of her trainer's leg. Disaster averted... barely.</s>
<\|description\|>Gail 'Facestomper' Avery Infiltrator Personal Stats Age and Date of Birth: January 19 2070 Gender: Male Species: Supermutant — Mariposan strain, stealthboy affected physiology Profession: Odd job man Psychological History Motivations and Outlook (Personality): Avery is a nightkin leading to a specific set of traits in his personality. He still firmly believes in the master's vision of Unity where all men are united as mutants. Similarly, like all nightkin he has a serious case of schizophrenia. This crushes the demeanour of a once calm, and collected supermutant into becoming an anxious, irritable mess. Backstory: Gail was born just before the Great War, his parents bringing him to a vault where he was spared nuclear hellfire. He lived happily raising a famil of his own, but history would not let him escape a second disaster. When the Master's army formed, he was one of the many vault dwellers it kidnapped to subsequently dip in forced evolutionary virus. An intelligent man in his past life, he was also rather small and came out as such in comparison to other supermutants. Combined with losing much of his memory, he become a good servant of the master, and following many successful raids on foes of Unity he became a natural candidate for joining the ranks of nightkin. As time went on however, the Unity made powerful enemies in the Brotherhood of Steel and the proto-NCR. Coming into conflict with them, it eventually collapsed with the death of the Master. Gail followed the Gammorin army that formed out of the Master's army almost all the way until the Midwest, until fighting a raider band he got isolated for days whilst evading them, eventually left behind by the rest of the army. With that he went back West, there eventually finding home in Jacobstown with other supermutants. This however was not something he could sustain. He had far too much difficulty inhibiting his violence and getting along with much of the rest of the community despite them likewise being mutants. This prompted him to go further West yet again, to seek out the ruins of Mariposa. There he lived for some time, pondering his past. He was surprised to find at some point a human that did not shoot at him passing by, an event that gave him the confidence to eventually find a community where he offered to do physical labours in exchange for a small amount of food and caps. In spending short times with settlements that could be reasonable enough to not attempt to kill him on site Avery found that this way he could still find a sense of community that he missed with the collapse of the Master's army, whilst still not having the frustration that he so often had spending long periods of time around people following his nightkin schizophrenia being developed. Recently a more lucrative gig popped up, and when he surprisingly found that they were accepting of super-mutants he was glad to accept it. Flaws: The flaws of Avery can be summarized with the fact he is a nightkin. He has schizophrenia, is hated by much of the wasteland for simply existing, and he has pecuiliar views on the world that make cooperating with non mutated wastelanders very difficult. Relationships and Reputation: As all mutants, Avery doesn't have many positive relationships with people. Communities of all sorts ostracize him for his mere existence. At the same time, he struggles to get along with other people, including fellow mutants as his schizophrenia gets in the way. At the same time, he is marginally better off in dealing with humans as he has come to believe that though all humans should be dipped in FEV as per with wisdom of the Unity, they should be taught that this is a matter they should do voluntarily. As such, he has worked many jobs as a mercenary and odd job man in the North of the NCR and surrounding territories. Opinions on Team: (To be filled out whenever you feel like your character has enough information on fellow player characters.) Skills and Equipment Skills: As all nightkin, Avery's skills lie largely in sneaking, and violence. As a former elite of the Master's army he learned the basics of things like first aid, but only marginally more than the average wastelander. He can lockpick and do some basic hacking that has been needed to help get close to targets of assassination. Weapons: - Primary: Sniper rifle - Secondary: Nothing - Melee: A rebar club Armor/Clothes: Scraps of miscellanous clothing all sewn together to make a patchwork of many, many pockets to hold things, largely his great supply of stealth boys. For protection he relies on the natural improvements supermutants had over humans. Personal belongings: A book with notes on his past. Misc: (Anything you want to add that's not covered in the CS)</s> <\|message\|>Gail 'Facestomper' Avery F̝O͚̞̳̜̱͗̍̎̌R̠̰̩ͩͨͫ ͙̩̠̣͉̪T̈́̅ͩ̊ͧH̓̀̉E̹͈̺̱̬͑̋̐͗̓̏ͅ ̬͚̙̲ͬͪ͊ͪ̉̽M͉̥̟̖̪͉̃Ả̪͈͍͕͔̺̮̽̈́Ṣ̳̝̰͖̞̠ͩ̑͛T͍̬͒̿͒̂̉̋Ẻ̖̟̖̼̬̄̏R̰ ̪̱͔̹̱̣̬͌ͨ̏ ̭̼͉̙̳ͮF̦̜̗̼̬͒ͯͣ̚Ò̫͇̮͙͇̄ͭ̒̌̆ͭR͓͂̑̐ͭ ͙͙ͣ̐̇̒͆H̥͑ͮ́͐E̞̟̅̀̽̀ͭͧ͑ ͓̂̾W̙̻̍ͧ͗̌̽ͭ͒Hͪ̀͗̓O̟͇̳̣̫ͯͭ͑ͦ́̌̚ ͎̲͙̳͈͍͋ͅY͖̐̋E̐ͬ̌T̖̗̰̓ͬ͂͂ͅ ͬ̂̽͐͆L͉̖̯͇̱̝͖ͪ̀̊̉̎Ì̘̝̩̺̉͑̅ͤͫV̟͉̣̞̻̮̬͛͂ͬ͂̚E͓̻͈ͥ̿͆S̻̹͎̞ͥ̍̑ͬͦ̋ͮ Walking off from the carnage, Gail stopped by a small bush to wipe his hands of the blood. He turned his head a little to see someone shooting where he had been, poking his head up yet further to see it was the lady that for some reason thought she was the leader here. He would remember this of course. It had been others who had at first refused to do anything, and yet it seemed he was the one that was the recipient of ill-will. Not that this was particularly surprising to the Nightkin. Supermutants always were the recipients of inexplicable hatred, which in turn humans always expressed in the most peculiar of ways. Truly, they were a suffering people to live such short lives that they could not see the folly of their behaviour. Musing on such things he wandered off into the wilderness, forgetting the entirety of his night's adventures by the time he returned to the party in the morning. --- Gail returned to the camp just as the sun started to once more arise, picking out pieces of radroach from the end of his rebar club. He didn't exactly know how they ended up there, but he supposed the feeling of fullness he had probably had some accounting to do for it. Briefly he worried about food poisoning having likely eaten this meal uncooked, until he lucid part of his mind reminded the rest of it that such things were no longer the worry of his splendid form. The mutant soon after spotted himself in a reflection of dew upon leaves, prompting him to start obsessively picking out hairs upon his head that were too long, a trait acquired some decades after the obsessive stealth boy use. That very soon brought him to another activity, as the smell of falling hairs reminded him that he had acquired new smells to worsen his ability to move concealed. As such, he began bringing his fist down to grab handfuls of dust, rub it across himself, and repeat the cycle until he could hardly feel his own sent when bringing his elbow to his nose. The many humans started waking up just as Gail finished his rituals, and thus he wandered over a little closer to observe them. Most pecuiliar to him was the supermutant in the group. He had an obsession almost as nightkin, and yet he lacked the characteristic blue skin, invisibility. The robot briefly brought him a distant memory of his life as a human when he shifted his eyes to it, and thus the nightkin shook his head to distract himself from the matter. They packed up, and went on yet another walk. As always he traveled some distance from the group, making sure that there were no more bits of fauna that were hungry and would go after the little humans. Of course, he made sure every five minutes or so to run back to them, and make sure they had not fallen into some sort of infighting that would need a clobbering to resolve. Satisfied, this cycle would continue until at some point he heard Darya call out for him on one of his return trips. He took a few long strides to make sure he was in earshot when he replied to her, revealing himself with the characteristic vwumpsh of a stealth-boy turning off a meter or two behind her. "Yes. Wait here. Do you have a flare?" he requested, continuing with "Something for a signal of sorts if it is unsafe to stay here, and time to flee." Regardless of if he received such a means for a signal or not, he would once more activate his stealth boy and run off towards the town.</s> <\|message\|>Ahab @Randomness @Andreyich AHAB Western Oregon, I-5, Northern Frontier June 16th, 2284 Mid-Evening Ahab felt stupid not getting that Jack was joking, he surmised that she was not going to just let her teammates be brutalized by wolves while she slept. His attention focusing on the Alpha and the other wolves closing in on their position. "Stayeth closeth to me." Quickly using his body to protect Thomas from the incoming droves of wolves. One of the wolves biting and hanging onto his arm. Cursing under his breath, he used both of his hands to rip its jaw off. Changing out his sledgehammer to use his pistol firing at the wolves coming towards the human companions. There were multiple bites on his arms and legs, something he would need Dr. Benning to look at afterward. Trying to huddle Thomas, Jack, and Daya close towards himself, Dr. Benning, and Stanko. His attention turned back towards the Alpha, starting to shot the beast in the head. Watching the wolves howling in the air, the super mutant readied his weapon in case they plan to rush the group. However they escaped into the bushes, he wanted to chase after them but Daya would not want to lose him. "Doctor, I will need some medical assistance." addressing Benning while sticking himself with some stimpacks. His eyes peering over towards Gail who conveniently came back, he wanted to make some sort of snide comment but didn't want to anger the psychotic mutant. Quickly collecting his harpoons after he was patched up, walking with the group down the highway. Looking over towards the ruins of the town, a part of him was reminded of the town of Broken Hill. A sad look came onto his face but shaking off this feeling by speaking with Daya. "Misseth Daya, wouldst thee liketh me to assisteth Mr. Gail?"</s>	<\|message\|>Gail 'Facestomper' Avery F̝O͚̞̳̜̱͗̍̎̌R̠̰̩ͩͨͫ ͙̩̠̣͉̪T̈́̅ͩ̊ͧH̓̀̉E̹͈̺̱̬͑̋̐͗̓̏ͅ ̬͚̙̲ͬͪ͊ͪ̉̽M͉̥̟̖̪͉̃Ả̪͈͍͕͔̺̮̽̈́Ṣ̳̝̰͖̞̠ͩ̑͛T͍̬͒̿͒̂̉̋Ẻ̖̟̖̼̬̄̏R̰ ̪̱͔̹̱̣̬͌ͨ̏ ̭̼͉̙̳ͮF̦̜̗̼̬͒ͯͣ̚Ò̫͇̮͙͇̄ͭ̒̌̆ͭR͓͂̑̐ͭ ͙͙ͣ̐̇̒͆H̥͑ͮ́͐E̞̟̅̀̽̀ͭͧ͑ ͓̂̾W̙̻̍ͧ͗̌̽ͭ͒Hͪ̀͗̓O̟͇̳̣̫ͯͭ͑ͦ́̌̚ ͎̲͙̳͈͍͋ͅY͖̐̋E̐ͬ̌T̖̗̰̓ͬ͂͂ͅ ͬ̂̽͐͆L͉̖̯͇̱̝͖ͪ̀̊̉̎Ì̘̝̩̺̉͑̅ͤͫV̟͉̣̞̻̮̬͛͂ͬ͂̚E͓̻͈ͥ̿͆S̻̹͎̞ͥ̍̑ͬͦ̋ͮ After the woman shook her head, Gail shrugged, and ran off to the mystery city. A supermutant was far faster than a human being even when making sure to be keeping quiet, but it was still some distance to cover. Back in the day the Master's Army had used steam-trucks, ingenious retrofitted vehicles that had now gone out of use despite the amount that were even now still sitting there in the Necropolis. But now it was purely Gail's own burden to get there. Looking up, he noted a sign, Ashland. It was a shithole, despite the fact somebody had tried to decorate the place such that this fact would be hidden. Despite everything, he didn't see very many people, at least not from outside of the place. He hopped a few meters closer to a stone upon which he could stabilize his rifle and examined it. There was movement, but he would have to get a lot closer to inspect the place. He was almost about to run closer, until looking up into the sky he found that he had already been here some time. Thus he stood, and sprinted back. Somewhere around half of the journey's path he ignored stealth, kicking up a dust cloud with his great big mutant feet thus announcing his arrival to the team. Again he deactivated the stealthboy with the noise ever more common to the group. "Movement in City. Called Ashland. Looked... happy, but that's gone. Probably raiders, or wildlife in there."</s>
<\|description\|>The Ducal House ------------------------------- Duchessa Brunisente Scarcella di Castrolibero The Duchess is the one who technically holds the ruling title to the city. She was born into the position, where the Duke married into it. This means that the Duchess' blood will take priority when determining lineage. The Duchess herself is a kind woman, often referred to as benevolent. She cares for her subjects and hears all who wish to bring their issues to court. She was known to hold wilder parties than anyone else in her youth. Now, her age has caught up to her, and her knees aren't what they were. She has some low-level magical powers relating to judgement and justly ruling. ------------------------------- Duca Salicaro Scarcella di Castrolibero ------------------------------- NAME Scarcella di Castrolibero ------------------------------- Feri di Castroliebro All I wanna write here is that there is a bastard! This bastard was conceived by the Duchess after her and her husband attended an orgy. Usually bastards hold a very weak claim to heirdom. But. The Ducal couple has only borne one legitimate heir. The line of succession would go: the heir, the Duchess' sister, the Bastard. Nobody knows who the other parent is, and this may be a plot hook we can leverage. It's likely they were magical. ------------------------------- Nicola Veseli di Castrolibero Brunisente's personal servant. The two are very close, and grew up together. There's a bit of an unhealthy dynamic here which developed from a crossover of two things: the Countess' rank, and the Handmaid's tendency to come out of situations with a better deal than her friend. This extends from youthful courtships where the suitor would run off with the handmaid, all the way to more practical skills where the Handmaid showed much better general hand-eye co-ordination than Brunisente. All that being said, the two are as close as if they were sisters. They love one another nonetheless. ------------------------------- Lady Odette Scarcella di Castrolibero Odette is the sister of Brunisente. She is the head of the military Office in the Ducal court, and has always loved the thrill of the fight. Low-key an adrenaline junkie. She's second in line for the Ducal throne. She has a strong loyalty to her sister and no interest in ruling. She's a very positive personality, always chipper, and always looking on the bright side of situations. This doesn't mean she's one dimensional - she's known hardship, and she knows when a situation is sombre - she just tends on the positive side of things. Her leadership as general is well-respected, even among her detractors. The general skill and morale of Castrolibero's soldiers has increased by huge margins since she entered office. This is in large part due to her chipper attitude rubbing off onto her underlings as she trains personally with them.</s> <\|message\|>The Ducal House Ambience --- Catarina walked down the spiral staircase behind the loose bookshelf in her study. Her footsteps reverberated off the stones and down the staircase, heralding her descent. She took her time with the stairs. Each footstep was allowed its own room, space to breathe, time for the echoes to decay. Time for her prisoner to digest them. The stones in the stairwell were rough-cut and darkly coloured. A perfect fit for a secret chamber. The way was lit by a hand-held tallow candle, mounted on a little polished bronze dish. The wick had been soaked in oils to brighten the light it let off. Candles were cheaper and more efficient than an oil lamp, so Catarina saw no reason to not use one. In all fairness, it did reek like burnt animal fat, but small sacrifices must be made. The last step always let out the quietest echoes, somewhat anti-climatically. The room at the bottom was a secret study, with books and alchemical reagents cluttering shelves, ink-stained carpets lining the floor, and arcane tapestries lining the walls. A tall, three panel mirror features against one wall, partially obscured by purple velvet curtains. Keen eyes would spot that this mirror reflects nothing. Instead, it showed smokey white swirls which shift and change when one isn't looking at them. A writing desk occupied the opposing wall and a lectern stared over a large, circular portion of stone flooring. The lectern had shelves built into its column, which were filled with candlesticks and bowls. Catarina stepped into the chamber and turned to her left. There sat her long-time vexer. A subject of fascination and frustration, finally within her grasp. The rival, Aïtana Du'Vall, had been seated in and tied to a chair. The chair was made of a rich wood which matched the writing desk, and was well-cushioned. The ropes were thick cord, and tied well. "Are you... comfortable?" she asked in her low, slow drawl. "I am terribly sorry about this situation. But then again, it would have been different if you knew where that nose of yours isn't welcome." She turns and paces around the room, tending to the candles. "So. We both know I can't keep you here forever. Start talking. How - and why for that matter - did you come to be snooping through my shit?" A crack pierced the air as she slammed her hand against a nearby bookshelf, staring over into Aïtana's eyes, fury tearing at her eyes.</s> <\|message\|>Aïtana Du'Vall "Hehehehe...hahahah!" The woman was laughing as she saw the child run around her. But she was just a child herself. Not more than fourteen years. The kid was making her dizzy. He was running round and round and round as she spun her body to keep her focus on him, pretending to throw her claws out at him, growling and hissing. "Aïtana! Aïtana!", the boy yelled her way as his body jerked away from her dangerous claws. "Aïtana!!" Suddenly his voice changed. She sounded angry now. The meadow was gone, they stood in a small wooden room. A kitchen. The stove was on. The water was boiling over. "Aïtana!", the same scream came at her again. The boy's amber eyes glared at her with malicious intent, with hatred and anger deeper than his 9-year-old soul should have been able to carry. "ARGHHH!", he screamed. A high-pitched ringing hit her ear, at the same time something burning hot sliced over her face. She screamed. She could hear herself scream. "Aïtana! Aïtana!" The boy was crying now. He sat beside her on the floor and shook her arm with his two small hands. Big tears were running down his face. "I didn't mean it. Aïtana!" The boy blurred before her eyes. "Nikolai...", soft lips whispered from a clouded mind. "It's okay. I know. Nikolai...." Aïtana's eyes opened to a blurred intake of colors she couldn't place. Everything seemed gray... Her head felt heavy. She tried to pull her hand to her forehead but it was stuck. Aïtana let her head drop for a moment, her eyes closed. She felt sick to her stomach. When she reopened her eyes and forced her brain to process her surroundings, the blur slowly lifted. She didn't recognize where she was. It was some kind of dark cold room. The walls were made up of gray stone. She saw bookshelves. A single entrance, the door closed. She pulled on her arm again and this time it dawned on her that she wasn't simply stuck. She was tied up. Her mind began to understand that something had happened. Asess the situation, her logic commanded. She was tied up on her hands, her ankles and for good measure around her midsection. She could see. Her mouth was free, she could use her verbal magic. The stool she was positioned in seemed to be of simple wood. It stood close enough to the entrance. The door seemed to be made up of normal wood, it looked thick but at least it wasn't metal. She quickly took notice that she had no further belongings but her clothes on her body. Her eyes darted around the room. Books... so many books. A strange big stone circle stood on the opposite side of the room, opposite from the only exit she could make out. A desk. A cabinet. She would need to get out of the chair. The cabinet might hold something sharp enough to cut through the robes that tied her up. The desk might offer a letter opener. Not exactly a weapon but worth a try. Aïtana took a breath. Her head still felt heavy. She didn't exactly have a headache. It felt more like the aftermath of a painful night. She was exhausted. Her body desperately needed fluid. Her mouth felt dry. How long have I been out for? It was impossible to say what time of day it was as the room proved to offer no windows. Underground, was her first explanation. Aïtana almost yelped as the door flung open. Her eyes grew wide for just a second. Then her face was stone. She hoped the woman hadn't noticed. She thought she didn't. Before stood Catarina Loveti de Monte Scifo. The memory of sharp, unbearable pain all over her body resurfaced. The traitor began to talk to her. Aïtana would have loved nothing more than to knock her unconscious and throw her into the darkest cell they could find to leave her there to rot. Her suspicions had been proven right. If not before, then now beyond any doubt. Her captor began to light up the rooms with candles. A loud crack almost made Aïtana jump. But she had felt the show of power, the attempt to scare her coming. Her heart might have jumped but her body had not flinched. She wanted her to talk? Aïtana gathered some strength and spit right in front of Catarina. Her eyes darted back into those furious orbs.</s>	<\|message\|>The Ducal House Catarina's anger dripped away from her face, almost becoming kind when Aïtana stared back. But she never broke her gaze. Never stopped analyzing and studying. The other woman's face was cold and inexpressive, but things were never that simple. In the same position, Catarina would hide her own emotions. She would be a fool to assume Aïtana wouldn't. The spitting told her everything she needed to know. Disdain, frustration, defiance, and hatred. Meeting this with more hate could never help. Cata was the one to break the gaze when she paced over to the cabinet in the far corner. She placed the candle on a small raised slab and opened the cabinet door. Strange glass and marble apparatus filled the shelves, placed in tidy and organised rows. Rags were folded and stacked on the bottom shelf. Catarina lifted one from the stack. She walked over to where the spit had soiled her carpet, and crouched down to clean it. "This was expensive, you know," she said. "I wouldn't do that again if I were you." She stood and began toying with the rag before leaning against a nearby shelf, eyes looking her captive up and down. Her nails tapped on the spine of a wood-bound book. "Aïtana, darling, look. To be frank, I don't like imprisoning people. It's disgusting, honestly. I don't want to have you as my prisoner any more than you want to be my prisoner..." she trailed off. The tapping stopped. "So believe me when I say that I only want to know how you came to be here so I can avoid having to do this to others. It's just damage control, see?" Cata closed her eyes for a few seconds and let out a long, defeated sigh. She slid the wooden book off the shelf and clutched it against her. Iron clasps held it shut, and strange shapes were burned into the back cover. "I suppose if today is to be a day for honesty between us, then I should take the lead... I do admire you. You have strong morals, which I would genuinely love to hear about some time." Her eyes found Aïtana's as she lowered herself to the floor to sit down. They were playful and full of interest. "Maybe after I've got you situated in a more appropriate cell. It's being outfitted to hold a guest of your esteem at the moment. It should be ready by tomorrow. But, I digress. You must have left traces, and so many people are wont to follow such clues. If they do, then they'll just wind up here, like you. You don't really want to get anyone else captured, do you?"</s>
<\|description\|>The Ducal House ------------------------------- Duchessa Brunisente Scarcella di Castrolibero The Duchess is the one who technically holds the ruling title to the city. She was born into the position, where the Duke married into it. This means that the Duchess' blood will take priority when determining lineage. The Duchess herself is a kind woman, often referred to as benevolent. She cares for her subjects and hears all who wish to bring their issues to court. She was known to hold wilder parties than anyone else in her youth. Now, her age has caught up to her, and her knees aren't what they were. She has some low-level magical powers relating to judgement and justly ruling. ------------------------------- Duca Salicaro Scarcella di Castrolibero ------------------------------- NAME Scarcella di Castrolibero ------------------------------- Feri di Castroliebro All I wanna write here is that there is a bastard! This bastard was conceived by the Duchess after her and her husband attended an orgy. Usually bastards hold a very weak claim to heirdom. But. The Ducal couple has only borne one legitimate heir. The line of succession would go: the heir, the Duchess' sister, the Bastard. Nobody knows who the other parent is, and this may be a plot hook we can leverage. It's likely they were magical. ------------------------------- Nicola Veseli di Castrolibero Brunisente's personal servant. The two are very close, and grew up together. There's a bit of an unhealthy dynamic here which developed from a crossover of two things: the Countess' rank, and the Handmaid's tendency to come out of situations with a better deal than her friend. This extends from youthful courtships where the suitor would run off with the handmaid, all the way to more practical skills where the Handmaid showed much better general hand-eye co-ordination than Brunisente. All that being said, the two are as close as if they were sisters. They love one another nonetheless. ------------------------------- Lady Odette Scarcella di Castrolibero Odette is the sister of Brunisente. She is the head of the military Office in the Ducal court, and has always loved the thrill of the fight. Low-key an adrenaline junkie. She's second in line for the Ducal throne. She has a strong loyalty to her sister and no interest in ruling. She's a very positive personality, always chipper, and always looking on the bright side of situations. This doesn't mean she's one dimensional - she's known hardship, and she knows when a situation is sombre - she just tends on the positive side of things. Her leadership as general is well-respected, even among her detractors. The general skill and morale of Castrolibero's soldiers has increased by huge margins since she entered office. This is in large part due to her chipper attitude rubbing off onto her underlings as she trains personally with them.</s> <\|message\|>The Ducal House A grin spread over Catarina's face, only widening further as Aïtana continued her tirade. The last few sentences sent her into a shaking, cackling fit. It took her a moment to fully recover. Her next words were spoken through deep breaths and more than a few giggles. "I... Oh, aren't you something. I knew you were a principled woman, but I never knew you had such wit. It certainly hasn't shown in court before. Usually you're such... She paused to stand, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye. "Well, usually you're such a bore." She slid the book back onto the shelf and began to make her way behind the chair, caressing Aïtana's cheek on the way around. It was warm to her touch. Excellent. Her hand slipped just below the ear and she pressed slightly. A fast pulse. Even better. Catarina smirked as she thought of just how easy Aïtana would be to piss off. People with tempers were always her favourites. They were so rewarding. Lowering herself to her knees, Catarina placed her chin on Aïtana's shoulder, reaching around the other side of her neck with an arm. "Oh, I truly am sorry darling. I did not mean to upset you. But, um... how to say?" she said. She took a moment to make a show of considering her next words, hand grazing her cheek. "But we are not equals. Not really. Think about it: if we were equal, how could I do this?" Her hand slipped away, words hanging in the air for a moment, wafting around Aïtana's head like a threatening, musky perfume. All the better to allow her captive's mind to race. This was the fun bit. Her hand gripped the back of the chair. She pivoted on her knee. Yanked down with one arm, unbalancing the chair and driving it into the ground. She sat back onto her knees. Her eyes sparkled with a smug smile as she looked down at her captive and placed her hands in her lap. "Aïtana darling... this is not an act. I don't know how else to break the news to you, but I'm not whatever exaggerated caricature you've constructed of me. Although... you got one thing right. I am fond of novels. One runs out of treatises and philosophical dialogues, as I'm sure you know. But then again, you do seem to read only Varka, so I could be wrong." Catarina turned and began surveying her bookshelves. "Here -" she said, pointing at a thick, red leather bound book. "I can recommend this one! A thrilling romance between a poet and a painter, written with a lovely impressionist influence. I know the man who wrote it, as a matter of fact. He signed it for me." Aïtana would be a difficult one. Cata had always known her to be headstrong. Most start showing signs of beginning to crack by now, but this resistance and refusal to engage would make things difficult. That just meant it'd be fun though, right? They all crack under enough pressure. And diversion of the pressure just meant she had to apply it elsewhere. Catarina let out a low giggle. "Oh again! I keep digressing. You are good at getting me off topic, darling. But anyway. The world is so much more complicated than you think it. Yes, I have done regrettable things. Everyone has, after all. But that hardly means I am a monster," she said. Her next words were to be a gamble. If there was anyone who hadn't faltered in their morals, it was Aïtana. But she was confident, and right or wrong, she would learn something. "And likewise, you've made some commendable choices, but you are no perfect being. You've made some horrible decisions in the past, no? Does that make you a monster?"</s> <\|message\|>Aïtana Du'Vall Would you believe that? That maniac was laughing. But of course! If someone had something to laugh about in this situation, Aïtana would assume it'd be Catarina. Her facial expression slipped into one that clearly read 'you serious?' but would not offer the belief that she'd be phased much by it. Throw at me what you like. As much Aïtana had wanted for Catarina to just slap her, scream at her, threaten her with torture and get the cruel waiting phase over with, the woman was smarter than to think she could crack Aïtana with such standard villainous behavior. Instead, Catarina indulged herself in mimicking Aïtana's way of conversation. She stayed calm, slightly amused. She threw jabs at her, called her boring, tried to insult her with meaningless words. Catarina played the game Aïtana had raised between them. She could recognize and respect that. Catarina let Aïtana decide how to go about it, in this moment at least, and gave her that bit of control. She was smart. She showed Aïtana just how helpless her situation was. Not by force and not by threads. By flirtation. If Catarina wanted to call her darling, so be it. It boiled Aïtana's blood a little but she was far from letting that affect her. The first anger rose and then lifted as she cleared her head. It's just a word and it has no meaning in her mouth. She means to take a rise out of me. She thinks she found something that pokes at me and so she uses it to show her dominance. Pathetic, but fits her style just fine. As Catarina walked behind her and touched her scarred cheek, Aïtana's head drove to the side a small fraction. It was the automatic response of her body. The wall that screamed DO NOT TOUCH. However tiny and miniature her movement had been, she knew immediately that Catarina had noticed it. You didn't go to play such a game of touch to then miss the one reaction you were looking for. Aïtana could scream at herself for that failure. With Catarina's arm around her neck and her chin on her shoulder, it took a lot within Aïtana to not move away as much as possible. She equally waited and feared for that moment that their cheeks would brush and she would be forced to feel Catarina's skin against her scarred one. But the moment didn't come. Instead, Catarina made a show of running her hand over the same spot again. This time Aïtana didn't flinch. But she felt the familiar acid in her stomach crawling up her throat. That swirling sensation inside her belly that made her feel like throwing up. The world tipped and with a way too soft thud Aïtana landed with her back to the floor. "Uff!" The coalition tensed up her back muscles and she felt how the back of the chair dug into her bones and skin uncomfortably. She would have muscle pain for days after this. The fancy carpet helped. Her first bitter thought was to spit on the carpet again. But that would make her seem childish and unresourceful. It'd be a little 'fuck you' but nothing more. So Aïtana looked Catarina into the eyes with apathy as she continued to romance her with words. The assumption on Catarina's part about Aïtana's reading happens amused her but she would not let a stray comment like that reveal any emotions on her face. And she would certainly not counterbalance Catarina to her liking. This weak attempt to gain information on her, however small, would not rouse Aïtana to share a single word. And what was this bit about books? Way to redirect a conversation. Was she supposed to be impressed? Did little Catarina want a pet on the head for having a signed edition of some romance novel? How ridiculous. Catarina's words finally found their end with a question. One that could've meant to challenge Aïtana. But it was to no avail. "Is this villain's tactics 101? Is this the beginning of a corruption arc or are you trying to get me to save you - you know, deep deep inside?" She let the words sit for a moment, unsure why sarcasm was still her go-to. Catarina would just feast on it. "You and I are alike. We are alike in the sense that we both choose our actions ourselves and are to blame for them. But those actions surely look different. I never called you a monster, Catarina. Monsters are tale-bound mystical creatures that come out after dark. You're just a human. You're responsible for your actions." If she was looking for a heart-to-heart about the painful mistakes in Aïtana's past, she was bound to wait for eternity.</s>	<\|message\|>The Ducal House That apathy in Aïtana's eyes made Catarina smirk. She had played this game before. She knew people with a will this strong could never break this early. It was a fake apathy, one constructed to throw her off, to make her think she's breaking no ground. Delicious. She'd seen many like this in the past. Both within Castrolibero and without. There was a shimmer of defiance in the ones who hadn't truly broken. Oh how lovely to watch it turn. She swept a strand of hair from her face and looked down her nose into Aïtana's eyes. "Miss Du'Vall... darling, no... you know better than this, surely?" she drawled, mocking the other woman with everything, all the way down to the rhythm of her words. "Or... maybe not? Okay, let me explain. Sometimes when you say certain things, like say... I recommend taking a long look into the mirror. You might throw up from the very view you find in it or... just to blame it on me once you start your torture, I'd suggest you cut to the act, it implies certain things. That means you might not say it, but the words still carry the meaning! Exciting, right? For example, those words imply that you think of me as a monster." Throughout the entire explanation she kept a mockingly sincere expression on her face, complete with a furrowed brow and pouty lips. She put deliberate effort into mocking Aïtana's tone while she was quoting her. Unwilling to stop there, she continued, saying "Another example might be that this entire time I have been implying that you're a fucking idiot. Didn't you pick up on that, darling?" Her mouth split into a wide smile, lighting up her eyes. This really was too easy. She briefly reconsidered picking on such low-hanging fruit. Surely it couldn't be this easy? But... no. Instead, she giggled a low and flirtatious giggle. "Oh you're too much fun darling. Maybe I will let you one day. You know, let you uhh... 'save' me - deep, deep inside," she booped Aïtana on the nose and winked, "Maybe." With a swirl and a swish, Catarina stood. She walked behind the chair once more, this time lifting it back up so Aïtana was once again seated properly. Guests should never be made to feel uncomfortable. The chair creaked as it pivoted. A long, high whine. A thud as it connected with the carpet. Cata circled around to position herself in front of Aïtana. She crouched slightly, coming down to eye level with her captive. "But after all this you say I'm responsible for my actions? Go on then. Hold me responsible, and I'll hold you responsible," she said, slowly, deliberately. Dangerously. "I won't if you won't, darling." She winked.</s>
<\|description\|>The Ducal House ------------------------------- Duchessa Brunisente Scarcella di Castrolibero The Duchess is the one who technically holds the ruling title to the city. She was born into the position, where the Duke married into it. This means that the Duchess' blood will take priority when determining lineage. The Duchess herself is a kind woman, often referred to as benevolent. She cares for her subjects and hears all who wish to bring their issues to court. She was known to hold wilder parties than anyone else in her youth. Now, her age has caught up to her, and her knees aren't what they were. She has some low-level magical powers relating to judgement and justly ruling. ------------------------------- Duca Salicaro Scarcella di Castrolibero ------------------------------- NAME Scarcella di Castrolibero ------------------------------- Feri di Castroliebro All I wanna write here is that there is a bastard! This bastard was conceived by the Duchess after her and her husband attended an orgy. Usually bastards hold a very weak claim to heirdom. But. The Ducal couple has only borne one legitimate heir. The line of succession would go: the heir, the Duchess' sister, the Bastard. Nobody knows who the other parent is, and this may be a plot hook we can leverage. It's likely they were magical. ------------------------------- Nicola Veseli di Castrolibero Brunisente's personal servant. The two are very close, and grew up together. There's a bit of an unhealthy dynamic here which developed from a crossover of two things: the Countess' rank, and the Handmaid's tendency to come out of situations with a better deal than her friend. This extends from youthful courtships where the suitor would run off with the handmaid, all the way to more practical skills where the Handmaid showed much better general hand-eye co-ordination than Brunisente. All that being said, the two are as close as if they were sisters. They love one another nonetheless. ------------------------------- Lady Odette Scarcella di Castrolibero Odette is the sister of Brunisente. She is the head of the military Office in the Ducal court, and has always loved the thrill of the fight. Low-key an adrenaline junkie. She's second in line for the Ducal throne. She has a strong loyalty to her sister and no interest in ruling. She's a very positive personality, always chipper, and always looking on the bright side of situations. This doesn't mean she's one dimensional - she's known hardship, and she knows when a situation is sombre - she just tends on the positive side of things. Her leadership as general is well-respected, even among her detractors. The general skill and morale of Castrolibero's soldiers has increased by huge margins since she entered office. This is in large part due to her chipper attitude rubbing off onto her underlings as she trains personally with them.</s> <\|message\|>The Ducal House Catarina's shoulders slumped and her eyes rolled miles. Her face soured into a scowl, and she crossed her arms and stood upright. "Ugh, you take yourself far too seriously. Lighten up, sheesh. Maybe I was right about you being dull," she sighed, voice full of exasperation. The facade slipped a little here and her face betrayed genuine emotion. Her eyes gleamed more than usual, her shoulders were tense, her intonation a little too disappointed. Almost as fast as the emotion showed, she pivoted away, hiding it. "You have no sense of fun. You really should let loose. We can agree on two things though," she said, turning to look Aïtana in the eyes, "One: I'm not a monster, and two: you should stop wasting your breath." She paced back to Aïtana. How to do this? A million possibilities flashed through her mind. In the end, her eyes settled on the scar on Aïtana's cheek. Her hand reached up, hovering, teasing. She could feel the warmth of her cheek. Pure magic flowed into Cata's fingertips, setting off wild tingles and spreading nervous static. With less than the brush of a fingertip, Catarina released the magic to tear at the nerves in Aïtana's head, overloading her with pain. Forcing her to pass out. --- Next Morning The new cell had been finished on time, much to Catarina's relief. The particularly weak-willed bound servants had been ordered to refurnish the once cruel chamber into something more hospitable. After all, cruelty and torture is what's expected, and breaking people requires subverting expectations. The cell had been transformed into a comfortable study. Several heavy wood bookshelves sat by a lectern, packed full of books by famous philosophers. Discerning viewers would recognise several names among them - Markus Jakober, Renfry Bucholtz, and Estibaliz Gizikis to name a few. Well-read viewers would understand that all of these thinkers were known for their advocacy of decentralised government and rejection of current ideas in the field of ethics. The lectern nursed the most interesting book of all - a red leather bound volume which bore a signature on the flyleaf. A comfortable feather bed with strong wooden posts sat beside another wall. The candlelight shimmered off the fabric of the silken sheets, interrupted only by Aïtana, who was laid out on top. A dark wooden table stood regally in the center of the cell, attended by two chairs and a candlestick. There were no shackles or chains. No cruel iron spikes. In fact, the only indication that this was a cell at all was the row of steel bars thick enough to mock the very idea of escape looming in the center of the room. Cata was quite proud of the whole assembly, if she did say so herself.</s> <\|message\|>Aïtana Du'Vall Aïtana kept her eyes closed when she awoke the next morning. Her back muscles felt tense and painful but the softness of the blanket around her body and the wonderful feeling of her head on a pillow embraced her with kindness. She didn't want to awaken her sleepy brain to whatever reality would throw at her today. She would need to get dressed soon she reckoned. A pain in her cheek made her groan. It was more so a memory than actual physical pain. The body reminded her of something she was trying to not remember. But Aïtana was unable to hold her thoughts from coming back to her. "No, no", she whispered into the pillow. Wetness grazed the corner of her mouth. She must have drooled in her sleep. "Urgh, no. Okay... I'm ready." With a defeated sigh she sat up and let her brain introduce her to the roughness of the morning. She took a breath and slowly opened her eyes, revealing.... "What?", the woman softly wondered. There were bars that kept her locked inside her cell. But other than that... This wasn't what she had expected. Her hand stroked over the soft duvet of her bed. It felt expensive. It felt like someone had deliberately chosen exactly this material. The room was stacked with shelves and within the shelves books. Candlelight hugged the cell into a dim and romantic embrace. Some of the candles had burnt down entirely. They must have been on all night.... Or they were old candles. But with someone like Catarina as her host, she doubted it. There was a wooden table with chairs that looked oddly inviting. At the sight, Aïtana's stomach sprung to life and growled desperately. Aïtana scooted her butt to the edge of the bed and touched the floor with her bare feet. The rug greeted her toes with the decent feeling of a very ordinary rug. Bare feet... She attempted to wrap her head around the fact that all she was wearing was her undergarments. To be fair, it covered her nicely still. She had some more showing lingerie but found those impractical. So her go-to were tight underpants and a tight top that would allow her to move freely without her chest hindering her. [(basically sports underwear like this but in all white and a bit less modern cause we're not in a setting where we wear modern clothes)] Aïtana let her eyes wander around. Catarina had surprised her after all. After their conversation last night she had not hoped for much more than the typical villain's lair. She found her clothes were neatly stacked on the table with her boots standing by the side of it. She rose from the bed and made her way over to the table. The candle on top of it had only burned down halfway. It was a white ordinary-looking candle. But Aïtana recognized it anyway. It was the same candles she always bought for her study. All the long nights spent with her head in a book or above various parchments, she had found that these candles provided the best quality. They lasted her for days. But she never burnt them down in one go. In her study, she would often sit and read and write for five hours with no interruption. Within five hours, the candle would be burnt down by approximately one-fifteenth of its original size. It would be hard to measure time with such a long-lasting candle. Aïtana sat down on one of the chairs, grabbed the burning candle, and began to etched small indicators into the wax with her fingernail. It wasn't a foolproof technique and it would be hard to read. Considering that her measurements were likely inaccurate anyway, she could be glad if this was even helping her a bit. No windows, no time measurement. But candles work well, just gotta keep my eye on them. She put the candle back where it belonged. Her stomach made another growling noise. When had she last eaten? Being knocked out twice by an insufferable amount of pain had cost her body a lot of energy. But at least she could be certain now. The pain she had felt had definitely been Catarina's work. And by work, she meant her magic. Did the ducal couple know about this cruel ability of hers? Why would they let someone who practices illegal magic into their inner circles?. However unpleasant her encounter with Catarina's ability had been, she had revealed a part of her hand. Aïtana now knew of this little trick of hers and could prepare herself for it. She had an advantage for as long as she knew more about her captor than Catarina did about her captive. Why do I have a feeling that won't last long. Aïtana leaned forward and reached for her clothes. The sound of keys in a keyhole made her look up and stop in her motion. Then the door beyond the bars began to open slowly.</s>	<\|message\|>The Ducal House In a mirror image of Aïtana, Catarina woke peacefully in her own bed. She was relaxed, spread-eagle across the bed, her mind at ease. Her eyes slid open, pupils shrinking and shying from the first grey sunlight that crept in from an open window. She laid there for a minute. Curling herself into the blankets to appreciate the warmth. The world was waiting. More specifically, Aïtana was waiting. Catarina's thoughts drifted over to her captive. She'd proven difficult last night. Unexpectedly so. With her constant pressing into her deflections. But then again - had it ever been any different in court? Of course not. People never change in one night, Cata. She got under your skin. Don't let it get to you. The affirmation rung in her head as she slowly hoisted herself up and out of bed. Her bare legs dangled from the bed and grazed the floorboards. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and scratched the life out of her scalp. It was improper etiquette, but, as she was wont to say: fuck the ettiquitte. She slept in the nude. It was comfier. The blankets felt comforting against her skin and her body heat got around more quickly. Her thoughts slid back to Aïta- No. Deal with that later. Go get dressed. She got up, and donned a long dress made of rich purple material, high top wedge-heeled boots, an amethyst-jeweled silver hairpin, and a short black cloak. Nothing fancy - not by her standards - but enough that looking in the mirror gave her a surge of confidence. So much for throwing up, she thought with a giggle. She made her way out of her bedroom and onto the mezzanine level in the main room. On the mezzanine level there were books and documents and files lining every available surface, seemingly meticulously ordered despite the sheer quantity of them. A shelf full to the brim of various inks, quills, waxes, penknives, and parchments, was positioned behind a polished wooden desk. On the floor below, there were the other general amenities one might need in a household, such as a kitchen, dining area, and a small fireplace. Several smaller bookshelves were built into the walls on this floor, and a cellar entrance sat in one corner. Catarina collected her mail from the front door and sat in her dining area to read them. Such began a short morning of chores. Cleaning, cooking, reading, writing. She preferred not to keep servants due to their tendency to get curious. Soon, all that was left to tend to was her prisoner. She gathered some bread and cheese in a cloth bag and made her way downstairs through the secret door behind the false bookshelf. Soon enough, she was unlocking the door and walking in. Only to see Aïtana in her underclothes for the second time that week. She raised one eyebrow and smirked a little. Her eyes may have wandered for a second, or maybe she was just amused that Aïtana still hadn't got dressed. "Good morning Aïtana. For all you vex me, I must say you have a delightfully comfortable taste in underwear! Where might I find some? Help a lady ou-" an abrupt stop as Aïtana flushed red. Catarina giggled a slow, low giggle. She began to talk again, her tone light, playful, and dismissive. "Oh darling don't worry about me, there's no need to be embarrassed. There's nothing you have that I don't. Besides, I saw the same last night I am seeing now. I took your clothes and washed them - they should stink less now." The door clicked shut behind her, and she placed the key on a table to her right. She rubbed her forehead. "You're confused about the lodgings, no? You expected a dungeon with chains and rusty bars?" she inquired, raising her eyebrows. She spread her arms wide. "I like to keep my guests comfortable. Pay it no mind. I've put the book I recommended last night over there-" she gestured to the lectern, "It's really quite nice, you should read it if you find the ti- wait. You have all the time in the world! How I envy you, Aïtana." She paced over to the cell bars and raised the small bag of food. "I've had a long morning of writing and need a break. Join me for breakfast?" She pulled out the bag's contents and sat on the floor, laying the bag out as a small picnic cloth and placing the food atop it. She picked up a loaf of bread, sliced it, and spread some cheese on it, passing it to Aïtana through the bars. "Oh, and... please, for the love of all that is good, lighten up this morning. I am in the mood for jest and if you're anything like you were last night, you're going to ruin that."</s>
<\|description\|>The Ducal House ------------------------------- Duchessa Brunisente Scarcella di Castrolibero The Duchess is the one who technically holds the ruling title to the city. She was born into the position, where the Duke married into it. This means that the Duchess' blood will take priority when determining lineage. The Duchess herself is a kind woman, often referred to as benevolent. She cares for her subjects and hears all who wish to bring their issues to court. She was known to hold wilder parties than anyone else in her youth. Now, her age has caught up to her, and her knees aren't what they were. She has some low-level magical powers relating to judgement and justly ruling. ------------------------------- Duca Salicaro Scarcella di Castrolibero ------------------------------- NAME Scarcella di Castrolibero ------------------------------- Feri di Castroliebro All I wanna write here is that there is a bastard! This bastard was conceived by the Duchess after her and her husband attended an orgy. Usually bastards hold a very weak claim to heirdom. But. The Ducal couple has only borne one legitimate heir. The line of succession would go: the heir, the Duchess' sister, the Bastard. Nobody knows who the other parent is, and this may be a plot hook we can leverage. It's likely they were magical. ------------------------------- Nicola Veseli di Castrolibero Brunisente's personal servant. The two are very close, and grew up together. There's a bit of an unhealthy dynamic here which developed from a crossover of two things: the Countess' rank, and the Handmaid's tendency to come out of situations with a better deal than her friend. This extends from youthful courtships where the suitor would run off with the handmaid, all the way to more practical skills where the Handmaid showed much better general hand-eye co-ordination than Brunisente. All that being said, the two are as close as if they were sisters. They love one another nonetheless. ------------------------------- Lady Odette Scarcella di Castrolibero Odette is the sister of Brunisente. She is the head of the military Office in the Ducal court, and has always loved the thrill of the fight. Low-key an adrenaline junkie. She's second in line for the Ducal throne. She has a strong loyalty to her sister and no interest in ruling. She's a very positive personality, always chipper, and always looking on the bright side of situations. This doesn't mean she's one dimensional - she's known hardship, and she knows when a situation is sombre - she just tends on the positive side of things. Her leadership as general is well-respected, even among her detractors. The general skill and morale of Castrolibero's soldiers has increased by huge margins since she entered office. This is in large part due to her chipper attitude rubbing off onto her underlings as she trains personally with them.</s> <\|message\|>The Ducal House Catarina's eyebrows rose ever so slightly at Aïtana's offer to give her the address of the lingerie shop. Genuine surprise was not something she felt often. She blinked a few times, furrowed her brow slightly. Then, from her seat on the ground, she looked up at Aïtana and spoke. Her voice was softer than Aïtana had heard it before. "Yes, actually. I would love the address. Hold on, let me-" she patted down her dress, hoping to find some long-lost slip of paper. Nothing."It seems I don't have anything to write it on, and I am sure I'll forget if you just tell me... Would you do me a favour? I've put some parchment in the top drawer in your lectern over there. There should be ink and pens in the drawer below it. Be a dear and pass them through so I can write the address down." While Aïtana next spoke, Catarina sliced more bread. She spread a healthy portion of cheese on it and slowly brought it towards her mouth, but forgot to take a bite. Regardless, the bread lingered. Yet again, her brows furrowed. Her lips parted a little and she tapped on the bread crust. Aïtana was certainly giving her a lot to think about. In time, through a fog of thought, she spoke. "I think... yes. You are right. Be... as angry as you will. After all, if this situation were reversed..." she trailed off, snapping out of her thoughts and looking Aïtana up and down. Her captive would surely notice that she was studying her face and body language, drinking in the detail and swirling it around her brain like a fine wine. "I would definitely be a lot more aggressive than you are being now. I suppose it's a luxury for me. Not wanting to hurt you, I mean." Catarina took a small and disinterested bite from the bread. She chewed slowly, eyes staring down into the loaf. Somewhere deep down, for a short moment, she allowed herself to feel satisfaction. Aïtana was noticably less wilful today. Maybe from the previous night, maybe from the repetitive pain, and maybe from Cata's actions. Maybe even for an internal reason. It would have been nice to know which of these it was, but that was not knowledge she was privy to. Whichever way, she had something to work with now. She had leverage. These suggestions of Aïtana's... they told Catarina what she wanted, far beyond the obvious "escape" and "justice". Whatever value that held. They gave an inkling as to what she thought she could gain. Respect. Was this about to become easier? She swallowed her mouthful. Only one way to find out. "I think I should start showing you respect, Aïtana. I acknowledge that I have been less than kind so far, and honestly I have no interest in continuing that. The only issue is... well I don't really know how you would want me to show that. As someone who's more experienced in this than I... how would you do it? And... as someone who's in a less advantageous situation, how could I show you?" She cleared her throat. Short, sharp, polite. "How could I show respect in such a position, I mean... Having you in a cage and all. I obviously cannot let you out, that would destroy me. Even though that's clearly what you want," she said, looking Aïtana in the eyes, pouring earnestness into her voice. Her own eyes glittered with emotion. Maybe she was laying it on a bit thick. But then again, maybe it was just enough. What Catarina found odd was that some of this was genuine. She wasn't saying this just to manipulate - there was some drowned and long-dead emotion below it. Did she really- Let's not think about that right now. She stood. The old iron key rested heavy in one palm, the light and cheesy bread in the other. Her eyes rested on the second chair at the table. Maybe that quick glance, the appearance of a subconscious acknowledgement, would be enough to get Aïtana to wonder why it was there. Even if only briefly, the seeds could be sown. But now Aïtana spoke of the book. Perfect! Catarina's face lit up with a smirk. Her previous playful demeanour edged its way back onto her face as she looked at Aïtana under hooded eyes. "Well now, you wouldn't want me to spoil the story for you, would you darling? That would take the fun out of it. Wouldn't want you to miss out on the surprises. Though... I could give you a synopsis if you like. Only if you want to hear, of course. I would loathe to bore..."</s> <\|message\|>Aïtana Du'Vall As Catarina spoke, Aïtana kept her gaze on her food, only looking up at her at times. But she was fully aware of every movement, every twitch with the eye her captor was taking. Even if just from the corner of her eye, Aïtana was watching her. She didn't feel tense or stressed. She felt more curious. And she was hungry. So she focused on her food and tried to listen to Catarina without her emotions getting in the way for once. As much as Catarina's surprise eased Aïtana's mind just a little more - she had managed to surprise Catarina, to break through her masks for a moment -, she was soon to be the one to show surprise as Catarina actually took her up on her offer and asked for the address of her lingerie shop. Aïtana lowered her bread to the table and looked at Catarina with confusion on her face for a moment before she got up. "Of course." She moved through the room. Once she found the items, she took it upon herself to write down the address. With a couple of steps, she stood in front of the bars that made her room a prison. She folded the paper once, lowered herself down to Catarina's level, and slid the paper through the bars for her to take. After, she returned to her seat at the table and continued her meal as if nothing had happened. But something had changed. Strange... How one simple exchange can shift something. She wasn't gonna let a little moment like that make her forget how she was still imprisoned, how Catarina had knocked her out with her pain spell before and could do it again anytime she felt Aïtana was being too unpleasant. But Catarina wasn't done surprising her. She had actually... listened? Aïtana was slowly running out of food. She had been eating a fraction too fast and she needed to slow down before her hands would be left empty. Catarina had just acknowledged what Aïtana had explained. She had admitted that Aïtana had every right to her anger. And that wasn't all. Had she really just confessed that she didn't know how to handle this situation any further? Did Catarina just ask me for advice on respect? "Uhm..." Aïtana was at a loss for words. How could she give advice in such a situation? Of course, Catarina was correct to assume she could not let Aïtana go if she didn't want to stand up for her crimes. She couldn't help but feel rushes of anger coming up again. Asking to be taught respect but not wanting to be held responsible for her actions, that's just like you, isn't it? But this wouldn't help her. What was her own agenda here? To show Catarina just how much she despised her actions, her morals? Did she want to make sure Catarina went back to hurting her and not really listening? She had undoubtedly surprised her this morning and lifted the mask. If she wanted to get anywhere, she needed to start with keeping it respectful as long as Catarina attempted the same. She was listening. She was asking for help. This could definitely be a sign that there was still room for Catarina to grow. Somewhere, somehow - maybe. "Well... You could continue to talk to me at eye level. That is a good start. You could also give me the newspapers every morning. I like to read them. I'd appreciate three actual meals per day. I am assuming you were gonna provide that already. And fresh clothes. A big jug of water always refilled and a cup to drink from. I should not have to ask you for water throughout the day. That would be the best beginning, I think." Catarina rose from her position on the floor. Aïtana noticed the glance to the second chair at the table. She had already guessed that Catarina would use it one of the coming days. She hadn't bothered to think about in what context that would be - she had felt it would have been a more cruel one than shared meals. But it seemed Catarina was missing friendships in her life. She seemed lonely to Aïtana, in that moment. She could've been mistaken though. There would be plenty of other reasons her gaze could have crossed that chair. Maybe she had seen a fly. "I must admit that I indeed don't feel up to reading. The... situation kind of takes the fun out of that."</s>	<\|message\|>The Ducal House Catarina's eyes met Aïtana's as she reached through the bars to take the address. "Oh why thank you, that was very helpful of you, darling," she said absentmindedly, stashing the parchment in a fold in her clothes. Her mind was on how Aïtana's tone had shifted, even in just those two words. There was mutual ground here, and she felt some satisfaction from that. She was closer to her goal, after all. But there was something else there. They had just interacted as people for the first time since they met, so many years ago. It was odd. She was used to having had that already. She would have to pay the shop a visit the next day. She listened to Aïtana's requests, nodding to confirm when Aïtana assumed her intention to supply food. The requests were more than fair, those she didn't plan on would be easy enough to fulfill. The only one that could be an issue is the newspaper. If there's anything being published about Aïtana being missing, it could prove an issue. But that's a bridge that could be crossed later. Then, Aïtana requested water. Catarina let out a heavy sigh and rubbed her forehead. "Fuck, it's always the basics I forget..." she groaned, under her breath. She took a second before speaking clearly again, "But of course, Aïtana. These are all just common courtesy. I did intend to have a basin here for you, refilled daily. Unfortunately, I must have forgot while choosing the books. It will be here tomorrow when you wake. Until then..." she said, trailing off as she saw Aïtana running out of bread. She prepared her some more and passed it through the bars. "Until then, I'll bring you a pitcher, some cups, and the newspaper after we finish this conversation." Her eyes briefly narrowed as she studied Aïtana. She rubbed her chin and bit her lip, grimacing slightly. "What are your measurements, darling? You may fit into some of my clothes." she said. She was never going to go and retrieve Aïtana's clothes from her lodgings. This would be a terrible idea, as surely someone would know Aïtana was missing by now. Her room would be closely monitored, and pulling any strings to change that would look far too suspicious, even high ranking as she is. "When I visit the shop tomorrow I'll get some spare undergarments, too. Would you like more of the same, or a different style?" Aïtana's next words made Catarina look at her as if she had just burst through the door shouting nonsense. And, in a sense, that's just what Catarina thought about her words. She blinked a few times. A careful cadence took hold of her voice as she spoke next. "Of all the things you have ever said to me, Miss du'Vall... That is the most shocking. How- wh- uh... How? Please do explain."</s>
<\|description\|>Aïtana Du'Vall Concept: a court mage who is a trusted individual to the ducal couple. Her position in the court comes with the responsibility of moral inquisitions. She is responsible to advise the court and especially the ducal couple on the moral aspects of decisions due to the purity of her magical abilities. She also has a high standing within the executive branch and is asked to sit within some trials, give her opinion or advice, and oversee some of the more complicated cases. Race: Human Age: 37 Appearance Abilities • Spells of Insight Works as a hunch, a vague 'pull' or something that would lead them to have a gut feeling of "I should look there, I should hide, I should xy" and then they trust in that and it usually proves correct. • Spells of Purity Allows the user to tug at people's heartstrings and make them feel prone to speak their truth, their heart's desire, their true pain. Essentially, honesty. Requires focus and verbal use. Can be enhanced with specific catalysts. • Spells of Audible Indunation The ability to overwhelm someone's mind with voices. Requires focus, close proximity to the other person. Can 'ricochet' when someone uses a field with ricocheting ability. Useless against people with mind shields. • Spells of Monocular Realization The ability to make people see your own bodily features as however you want. This does not result in an actual change of bodily features, but instead, it works as a "filter" atop the real version. Can only be held for a short period of time. Limited to user's imagination and skills. Unlikely to be upheld during pain due to requiring some concentration. Needs consistency: If not consistent in color/shape/details/etc, the deceived can easily see through the filter. Weather Conditions: The illusion must be adapted during weather changes, this includes for example when the user gets wet, they need to remember to change the illusion to someone who is also wet. (This can be done subconsciously.) Drive: Honesty and Justice Belief: "The laws enabled by the court protect the citizens' human rights and the court's system and branches enforce a just execution of those laws to ensure justice and safety." Characterization notes - Values fairness, the law, and justice. - Trusts in the ducal couple and the established justice system - Has become the unofficial official symbol for morality (meaning that the officials - such as the court - use her as a symbol for their morality but it is not officially claimed that she's their symbol) - Has a slightly deeper voice that has been described as enticing, seductive and soothing. Personality As someone holding a lot of responsibility and trust, Aïtana is very much aware of the power she holds and strives to treat it with respect every day. Due to her valuing justice and fairness so highly, she holds herself to a high standard. She can not fail. Failing would mean to not just make a 'mistake' but it would have significant impacts on other people's lives. Being fully aware of this, Aïtana is not always the most relaxed person. She tends to sit through court sittings with a frown on her forehead and tension in her upper back. Due some poor choices in the past, Aïtana certainly doesn't lack a package of guilt she carries around with her. The fact that she has become a public symbol for moral standards weighs heavily on her. Aïtana believes certain types of magic that want to harm or control people to be a disease that plagues the heart and soul and can corrupt good people. She would compare it to drug use. You try it, you begin to balance a slippery slope and it gets you addicted and pulled in further and further. Until it begins to control you, corrupt your own ideas and morals and your soul. People who go down this road can be seen as the victim. But at some point, when they become a threat to society, they have to be seen as the enemy of the court. In these instances, Aïtana would suggest moving against those who cause harm to others with force even if it might mean their death. Where trials are seen as a just opportunity to determine someone's guilt or innocence, Aïtana believes that at a certain point of harm or treason the trial comes secondary - the safety of the citizens comes first! And if that means to end someone's life, then so be it. Although it does pierce her heart and she'd rather save a life and save a victim. Breaking the law for selfish gain is something Aïtana can't see. She believes in the system and in the peace their city enjoys. This peace as well as everyone's human rights can only be protected if those who break the laws see their rightful punishment. In cases of self-defense, desperation or survival, Aïtana sees the breaking of a law - depending on the criminal charge - more as a reaction to a different problem and would speak in support of the person to be granted help of some kind instead of punishment. Occupation/Position: Advisor on Moral Issues (Member of the Court) History</s> <\|message\|>Aïtana Du'Vall "Hehehehe...hahahah!" The woman was laughing as she saw the child run around her. But she was just a child herself. Not more than fourteen years. The kid was making her dizzy. He was running round and round and round as she spun her body to keep her focus on him, pretending to throw her claws out at him, growling and hissing. "Aïtana! Aïtana!", the boy yelled her way as his body jerked away from her dangerous claws. "Aïtana!!" Suddenly his voice changed. She sounded angry now. The meadow was gone, they stood in a small wooden room. A kitchen. The stove was on. The water was boiling over. "Aïtana!", the same scream came at her again. The boy's amber eyes glared at her with malicious intent, with hatred and anger deeper than his 9-year-old soul should have been able to carry. "ARGHHH!", he screamed. A high-pitched ringing hit her ear, at the same time something burning hot sliced over her face. She screamed. She could hear herself scream. "Aïtana! Aïtana!" The boy was crying now. He sat beside her on the floor and shook her arm with his two small hands. Big tears were running down his face. "I didn't mean it. Aïtana!" The boy blurred before her eyes. "Nikolai...", soft lips whispered from a clouded mind. "It's okay. I know. Nikolai...." Aïtana's eyes opened to a blurred intake of colors she couldn't place. Everything seemed gray... Her head felt heavy. She tried to pull her hand to her forehead but it was stuck. Aïtana let her head drop for a moment, her eyes closed. She felt sick to her stomach. When she reopened her eyes and forced her brain to process her surroundings, the blur slowly lifted. She didn't recognize where she was. It was some kind of dark cold room. The walls were made up of gray stone. She saw bookshelves. A single entrance, the door closed. She pulled on her arm again and this time it dawned on her that she wasn't simply stuck. She was tied up. Her mind began to understand that something had happened. Asess the situation, her logic commanded. She was tied up on her hands, her ankles and for good measure around her midsection. She could see. Her mouth was free, she could use her verbal magic. The stool she was positioned in seemed to be of simple wood. It stood close enough to the entrance. The door seemed to be made up of normal wood, it looked thick but at least it wasn't metal. She quickly took notice that she had no further belongings but her clothes on her body. Her eyes darted around the room. Books... so many books. A strange big stone circle stood on the opposite side of the room, opposite from the only exit she could make out. A desk. A cabinet. She would need to get out of the chair. The cabinet might hold something sharp enough to cut through the robes that tied her up. The desk might offer a letter opener. Not exactly a weapon but worth a try. Aïtana took a breath. Her head still felt heavy. She didn't exactly have a headache. It felt more like the aftermath of a painful night. She was exhausted. Her body desperately needed fluid. Her mouth felt dry. How long have I been out for? It was impossible to say what time of day it was as the room proved to offer no windows. Underground, was her first explanation. Aïtana almost yelped as the door flung open. Her eyes grew wide for just a second. Then her face was stone. She hoped the woman hadn't noticed. She thought she didn't. Before stood Catarina Loveti de Monte Scifo. The memory of sharp, unbearable pain all over her body resurfaced. The traitor began to talk to her. Aïtana would have loved nothing more than to knock her unconscious and throw her into the darkest cell they could find to leave her there to rot. Her suspicions had been proven right. If not before, then now beyond any doubt. Her captor began to light up the rooms with candles. A loud crack almost made Aïtana jump. But she had felt the show of power, the attempt to scare her coming. Her heart might have jumped but her body had not flinched. She wanted her to talk? Aïtana gathered some strength and spit right in front of Catarina. Her eyes darted back into those furious orbs.</s> <\|message\|>The Ducal House Catarina's anger dripped away from her face, almost becoming kind when Aïtana stared back. But she never broke her gaze. Never stopped analyzing and studying. The other woman's face was cold and inexpressive, but things were never that simple. In the same position, Catarina would hide her own emotions. She would be a fool to assume Aïtana wouldn't. The spitting told her everything she needed to know. Disdain, frustration, defiance, and hatred. Meeting this with more hate could never help. Cata was the one to break the gaze when she paced over to the cabinet in the far corner. She placed the candle on a small raised slab and opened the cabinet door. Strange glass and marble apparatus filled the shelves, placed in tidy and organised rows. Rags were folded and stacked on the bottom shelf. Catarina lifted one from the stack. She walked over to where the spit had soiled her carpet, and crouched down to clean it. "This was expensive, you know," she said. "I wouldn't do that again if I were you." She stood and began toying with the rag before leaning against a nearby shelf, eyes looking her captive up and down. Her nails tapped on the spine of a wood-bound book. "Aïtana, darling, look. To be frank, I don't like imprisoning people. It's disgusting, honestly. I don't want to have you as my prisoner any more than you want to be my prisoner..." she trailed off. The tapping stopped. "So believe me when I say that I only want to know how you came to be here so I can avoid having to do this to others. It's just damage control, see?" Cata closed her eyes for a few seconds and let out a long, defeated sigh. She slid the wooden book off the shelf and clutched it against her. Iron clasps held it shut, and strange shapes were burned into the back cover. "I suppose if today is to be a day for honesty between us, then I should take the lead... I do admire you. You have strong morals, which I would genuinely love to hear about some time." Her eyes found Aïtana's as she lowered herself to the floor to sit down. They were playful and full of interest. "Maybe after I've got you situated in a more appropriate cell. It's being outfitted to hold a guest of your esteem at the moment. It should be ready by tomorrow. But, I digress. You must have left traces, and so many people are wont to follow such clues. If they do, then they'll just wind up here, like you. You don't really want to get anyone else captured, do you?"</s>	<\|message\|>Aïtana Du'Vall Aïtana watched the woman closely as she began cleaning the spot on the carpet. She soon finished and began speaking to her as if they were long friends or had some kind of relationship that allowed for civil communication while one of them had been knocked out cold, kidnapped, and was tied to a chair. Aïtana was ready to spit into Catarina's face - be it with words or fluids. Her words did nothing to impress her. They all felt like lies at this point, and even more so, they sounded pathetic in her ears. Admiring her morals. Who was supposed to believe that? Maybe someone from the council she had somehow gotten into her pocket? Aïtana had long believed that Catarina was hiding the full scope of who and what she was. Her suspicion was more of a gut feeling at first, a wariness. Be careful around that one, her instinct had warned her. And Aïtana had listened. Catarina was dangerous. She could deal with dangerous, she could even respect dangerous. What she drew the line at dishonest and pretentious. Catarina got close to her, close enough so they could look into each other's eyes as her captor lowered herself to the floor. Aïtana wouldn't give her the pleasure to look away and cower. She stared straight into those eyes and searched for something she could work with. Was there doubt? Was there hatred? But she couldn't tell. "Let's not pretend for one second that you want to stand across from me as equals. Your words don't phase me. I have the strong feeling one of us benefits more from this captive situation than the other, so don't come at me with this weak attempt of 'We both hate this situation equally, let's work this out' bullshit. If you find it so disgusting, I recommend taking a long look into the mirror. You might throw up from the very view you find in it." She wished she had free range with her feet to push the woman away from her position in front of the chair. "If you're trying the 'easy way' here, just to blame it on me once you start your torture, I'd suggest you cut to the act. Honestly, I never thought you were this naive to believe your victim-blaming would work on me. Have you read too many villain novels? Do you practice that speech in front of the mirror?" She let out an unamused laugh. "Shall we unpack your traumatic childhood next as if that would excuse any of your actions? 'Oh I find kidnapping disgusting.' But didn't you just mention there was another person you have locked up somewhere in a cage? 'You wouldn't want someone else to get captured.' Are you really trying to blame your actions on a person tied to a chair? I'm sorry but your theater act isn't doing it for me. If you want to have a real conversation with me, I'll give you two hints. First: Do not call me darling. Second: Untie me. Meet me at eye level. Let's talk as equals. And don't use your corrupted, ungraceful spells to dominate someone else's body or mind." She wasn't ready to admit that she had not yet cracked how Catarina had captured her. Her memories of that moment hadn't fully surfaced yet. She knew that Catarina had surprised her. Not with her presence but with something else. Aïtana had dropped to the floor immediately, pain had been involved. But as far as she could tell, her body was uninjured now. Aïtana braced herself for an incoming attack. She didn't know if Catarina was one to easily lose her temper, she hadn't seemed like it before. But now she was in her habitat, away from people, away from needing a mask. And Aïtana could not possibly know what hid underneath it.</s>
<\|description\|>Aïtana Du'Vall Concept: a court mage who is a trusted individual to the ducal couple. Her position in the court comes with the responsibility of moral inquisitions. She is responsible to advise the court and especially the ducal couple on the moral aspects of decisions due to the purity of her magical abilities. She also has a high standing within the executive branch and is asked to sit within some trials, give her opinion or advice, and oversee some of the more complicated cases. Race: Human Age: 37 Appearance Abilities • Spells of Insight Works as a hunch, a vague 'pull' or something that would lead them to have a gut feeling of "I should look there, I should hide, I should xy" and then they trust in that and it usually proves correct. • Spells of Purity Allows the user to tug at people's heartstrings and make them feel prone to speak their truth, their heart's desire, their true pain. Essentially, honesty. Requires focus and verbal use. Can be enhanced with specific catalysts. • Spells of Audible Indunation The ability to overwhelm someone's mind with voices. Requires focus, close proximity to the other person. Can 'ricochet' when someone uses a field with ricocheting ability. Useless against people with mind shields. • Spells of Monocular Realization The ability to make people see your own bodily features as however you want. This does not result in an actual change of bodily features, but instead, it works as a "filter" atop the real version. Can only be held for a short period of time. Limited to user's imagination and skills. Unlikely to be upheld during pain due to requiring some concentration. Needs consistency: If not consistent in color/shape/details/etc, the deceived can easily see through the filter. Weather Conditions: The illusion must be adapted during weather changes, this includes for example when the user gets wet, they need to remember to change the illusion to someone who is also wet. (This can be done subconsciously.) Drive: Honesty and Justice Belief: "The laws enabled by the court protect the citizens' human rights and the court's system and branches enforce a just execution of those laws to ensure justice and safety." Characterization notes - Values fairness, the law, and justice. - Trusts in the ducal couple and the established justice system - Has become the unofficial official symbol for morality (meaning that the officials - such as the court - use her as a symbol for their morality but it is not officially claimed that she's their symbol) - Has a slightly deeper voice that has been described as enticing, seductive and soothing. Personality As someone holding a lot of responsibility and trust, Aïtana is very much aware of the power she holds and strives to treat it with respect every day. Due to her valuing justice and fairness so highly, she holds herself to a high standard. She can not fail. Failing would mean to not just make a 'mistake' but it would have significant impacts on other people's lives. Being fully aware of this, Aïtana is not always the most relaxed person. She tends to sit through court sittings with a frown on her forehead and tension in her upper back. Due some poor choices in the past, Aïtana certainly doesn't lack a package of guilt she carries around with her. The fact that she has become a public symbol for moral standards weighs heavily on her. Aïtana believes certain types of magic that want to harm or control people to be a disease that plagues the heart and soul and can corrupt good people. She would compare it to drug use. You try it, you begin to balance a slippery slope and it gets you addicted and pulled in further and further. Until it begins to control you, corrupt your own ideas and morals and your soul. People who go down this road can be seen as the victim. But at some point, when they become a threat to society, they have to be seen as the enemy of the court. In these instances, Aïtana would suggest moving against those who cause harm to others with force even if it might mean their death. Where trials are seen as a just opportunity to determine someone's guilt or innocence, Aïtana believes that at a certain point of harm or treason the trial comes secondary - the safety of the citizens comes first! And if that means to end someone's life, then so be it. Although it does pierce her heart and she'd rather save a life and save a victim. Breaking the law for selfish gain is something Aïtana can't see. She believes in the system and in the peace their city enjoys. This peace as well as everyone's human rights can only be protected if those who break the laws see their rightful punishment. In cases of self-defense, desperation or survival, Aïtana sees the breaking of a law - depending on the criminal charge - more as a reaction to a different problem and would speak in support of the person to be granted help of some kind instead of punishment. Occupation/Position: Advisor on Moral Issues (Member of the Court) History</s> <\|message\|>Aïtana Du'Vall Would you believe that? That maniac was laughing. But of course! If someone had something to laugh about in this situation, Aïtana would assume it'd be Catarina. Her facial expression slipped into one that clearly read 'you serious?' but would not offer the belief that she'd be phased much by it. Throw at me what you like. As much Aïtana had wanted for Catarina to just slap her, scream at her, threaten her with torture and get the cruel waiting phase over with, the woman was smarter than to think she could crack Aïtana with such standard villainous behavior. Instead, Catarina indulged herself in mimicking Aïtana's way of conversation. She stayed calm, slightly amused. She threw jabs at her, called her boring, tried to insult her with meaningless words. Catarina played the game Aïtana had raised between them. She could recognize and respect that. Catarina let Aïtana decide how to go about it, in this moment at least, and gave her that bit of control. She was smart. She showed Aïtana just how helpless her situation was. Not by force and not by threads. By flirtation. If Catarina wanted to call her darling, so be it. It boiled Aïtana's blood a little but she was far from letting that affect her. The first anger rose and then lifted as she cleared her head. It's just a word and it has no meaning in her mouth. She means to take a rise out of me. She thinks she found something that pokes at me and so she uses it to show her dominance. Pathetic, but fits her style just fine. As Catarina walked behind her and touched her scarred cheek, Aïtana's head drove to the side a small fraction. It was the automatic response of her body. The wall that screamed DO NOT TOUCH. However tiny and miniature her movement had been, she knew immediately that Catarina had noticed it. You didn't go to play such a game of touch to then miss the one reaction you were looking for. Aïtana could scream at herself for that failure. With Catarina's arm around her neck and her chin on her shoulder, it took a lot within Aïtana to not move away as much as possible. She equally waited and feared for that moment that their cheeks would brush and she would be forced to feel Catarina's skin against her scarred one. But the moment didn't come. Instead, Catarina made a show of running her hand over the same spot again. This time Aïtana didn't flinch. But she felt the familiar acid in her stomach crawling up her throat. That swirling sensation inside her belly that made her feel like throwing up. The world tipped and with a way too soft thud Aïtana landed with her back to the floor. "Uff!" The coalition tensed up her back muscles and she felt how the back of the chair dug into her bones and skin uncomfortably. She would have muscle pain for days after this. The fancy carpet helped. Her first bitter thought was to spit on the carpet again. But that would make her seem childish and unresourceful. It'd be a little 'fuck you' but nothing more. So Aïtana looked Catarina into the eyes with apathy as she continued to romance her with words. The assumption on Catarina's part about Aïtana's reading happens amused her but she would not let a stray comment like that reveal any emotions on her face. And she would certainly not counterbalance Catarina to her liking. This weak attempt to gain information on her, however small, would not rouse Aïtana to share a single word. And what was this bit about books? Way to redirect a conversation. Was she supposed to be impressed? Did little Catarina want a pet on the head for having a signed edition of some romance novel? How ridiculous. Catarina's words finally found their end with a question. One that could've meant to challenge Aïtana. But it was to no avail. "Is this villain's tactics 101? Is this the beginning of a corruption arc or are you trying to get me to save you - you know, deep deep inside?" She let the words sit for a moment, unsure why sarcasm was still her go-to. Catarina would just feast on it. "You and I are alike. We are alike in the sense that we both choose our actions ourselves and are to blame for them. But those actions surely look different. I never called you a monster, Catarina. Monsters are tale-bound mystical creatures that come out after dark. You're just a human. You're responsible for your actions." If she was looking for a heart-to-heart about the painful mistakes in Aïtana's past, she was bound to wait for eternity.</s> <\|message\|>The Ducal House That apathy in Aïtana's eyes made Catarina smirk. She had played this game before. She knew people with a will this strong could never break this early. It was a fake apathy, one constructed to throw her off, to make her think she's breaking no ground. Delicious. She'd seen many like this in the past. Both within Castrolibero and without. There was a shimmer of defiance in the ones who hadn't truly broken. Oh how lovely to watch it turn. She swept a strand of hair from her face and looked down her nose into Aïtana's eyes. "Miss Du'Vall... darling, no... you know better than this, surely?" she drawled, mocking the other woman with everything, all the way down to the rhythm of her words. "Or... maybe not? Okay, let me explain. Sometimes when you say certain things, like say... I recommend taking a long look into the mirror. You might throw up from the very view you find in it or... just to blame it on me once you start your torture, I'd suggest you cut to the act, it implies certain things. That means you might not say it, but the words still carry the meaning! Exciting, right? For example, those words imply that you think of me as a monster." Throughout the entire explanation she kept a mockingly sincere expression on her face, complete with a furrowed brow and pouty lips. She put deliberate effort into mocking Aïtana's tone while she was quoting her. Unwilling to stop there, she continued, saying "Another example might be that this entire time I have been implying that you're a fucking idiot. Didn't you pick up on that, darling?" Her mouth split into a wide smile, lighting up her eyes. This really was too easy. She briefly reconsidered picking on such low-hanging fruit. Surely it couldn't be this easy? But... no. Instead, she giggled a low and flirtatious giggle. "Oh you're too much fun darling. Maybe I will let you one day. You know, let you uhh... 'save' me - deep, deep inside," she booped Aïtana on the nose and winked, "Maybe." With a swirl and a swish, Catarina stood. She walked behind the chair once more, this time lifting it back up so Aïtana was once again seated properly. Guests should never be made to feel uncomfortable. The chair creaked as it pivoted. A long, high whine. A thud as it connected with the carpet. Cata circled around to position herself in front of Aïtana. She crouched slightly, coming down to eye level with her captive. "But after all this you say I'm responsible for my actions? Go on then. Hold me responsible, and I'll hold you responsible," she said, slowly, deliberately. Dangerously. "I won't if you won't, darling." She winked.</s>	<\|message\|>Aïtana Du'Vall At this point, Aïtana wasn't sure why she was still listening to this person. They were more than clearly not on the same page. Morally as well as dictionary-wise. The chair got lifted off the floor once Catarina seemed satisfied with her theatrics. Aïtana's face turned from apathy to a mix of apathy and defeat. It wasn't the kind of defeat that suggested you had found yourself in a corner or at a loss of will to fight and now felt there was no other way but to surrender. It was the kind of defeat that made you retreat into yourself and let the other person talk because they are too stupid to follow your simple logic. The kind of people who stand before you and stomp their feet and grin at you thinking they've won when you stop arguing with them, not even realizing that they haven't understood a single word you had said before. It was a waste of time to reason with such people. Aïtana's had nothing of her humor, her bitterness, or her sarcasm in it anymore. She just sounded bored. "Just because you are able to remember and quote my sentences doesn't mean you understand them. If I say those words it implies that I think little of your morality. It does not imply I believe you to be a monster because - as I've said before - those are mythical creatures. And you are not mythical. You are not hell-bound. You are just a human who decides to make decisions the law doesn't agree with. You are a criminal. That's all you are. If your definition of a monster includes yourself as such, then that is something you should reflect upon with yourself. My definition of a monster doesn't include people. If you haven't understood why I can spell it out for you. But I thought you smarter than that." The woman took a deep breath. Much like a professor who was sincerely done explaining the same thing yet another time for that one student who still doesn't get. "If you think I haven't picked up on your feelings regarding my intellect, you have missed something. However, what surprises me I must admit is that you seem to think I care one bit whether you think me the greatest genius or the biggest fool that ever walked this planet or the next. I don't know why I am still granting you this much of my breath." She wasn't sure what made Catarina think any of her words had left even the slightest mark on her. Maybe she had misjudged her after all. It was possible Aïtana had given her more credit than was due. "As for your offer... Hold me responsible if you can handle holding yourself responsible. If you wanna appear so brave, let's see what the judges say about our crimes." What gesture, word, or expression had caused Catarina to even think for a second she'd need her to not hold her accountable for her wrongdoings? How did this person think she'd even be tempted to let her off the hook if in return Catarina let her off the hook? She wasn't even on the damn hook! Yes, she had made mistakes. As everyone else. And she was not seeking a mistake-free existence. But all her mistakes had been honest and she had done her best to repair what could be repaired. She had done her best to better herself. Her mistakes were not hidden, she hadn't run from them. She had dealt with them openly, had endured the public's roar and the possible social and legal consequences. What had Catarina done to make her trustworthy? What had she done that would allow Aïtana to trust even a single of her words? Why would someone like Aïtana ever consider sitting on the same level as someone like Catarina?</s>
<\|description\|>Wonderland Lewis Carrol Caster Sex: Male Alignment: Lawful Good Attribute: Man History: Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, better know by his penname Lewis Carroll, was an English author of children's fiction, most notable Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass. Born in 1832 to a family of conservative high-church Anglicans; a father who was a country parson who married his first cousin who raised eleven children, Charles being the eldest son and the third child. Lewis was brilliant child gifted in academics, someone with an intelligence that was ahead of its time raised raised to be a devout Christian, even becoming a deacon of the church and taught mathematics at Christ Church until the day he died. In 1856, Dean Henry Liddell arrived at Christ Church, bringing with him his young family, all of whom would figure largely in Dodgson's life over the following years, and would greatly influence his writing career. Dodgson became close friends with Liddell's wife Lorina and their children, particularly the three sisters Lorina, Edith, and Alice Liddell. Information is scarce (Dodgson's diaries for the years 1858–1862 are missing), but it seems clear that his friendship with the Liddell family was an important part of his life in the late 1850s, and he grew into the habit of taking the children on rowing trips. It was then in 1862 that Dodgson invented the outline of the story that eventually became his first and greatest commercial success, Alice in Wonderland. He told the story to Alice Liddell and she begged him to write it down and the rest is history. His work had influenced many even a century after his death and celebrated to this day. Lewis, despite his piousness, was not without his own temptations due to his bloodline; he had been interested with women, married and single, and enjoyed several relationships that would have been scandalous by the social standards for the time. Every affair he ever had was recorded in his many diaries and his family knew after his death if this information was publicly known then his reputation would be destroyed, which ironically only made rumors about him arise after his death. Personality: An intelligent, logical, yet whimsical man. A man with a strict moral code and piousness towards God, he was someone who believed in justice and protecting the weak even when he was a child if his time at Rugby School was any indication. However, there was a side of him that loathed himself or as an editor of biographer put it, "his Diary is full of such modest depreciations of himself and his work, interspersed with earnest prayers (too sacred and private to be reproduced here) that God would forgive him the past, and help him to perform His holy will in the future." Besides that, his only sin is that he likes women a bit too much. Parameters: Strength: E Agility: E Endurance: E Mana: EX Luck: B Class Skills Territory Creation(C): He does not make a Workshop but rather a "Study", where he can spin stories. Personal Skills Enchant(A): While Lewis was an inventor, it was very minor and it simply what he was not known for between his prolific works as an author, mathematician, and logician. His work as an author and inventor of words, even coining the word 'portmanteau,' and had such vivid, yet nonsensical descriptions for things such as the Vorpal Sword has allowed him access to the Enchant skill. Anything that he does Enchant will gain an endowment relating to any of his famous works. It is a skill that causes concept endowment towards weapons. It could also be called "Literary Masterpiece Endowment." It essentially is a skill that boosts a Master's fighting abilities by adding a function to an object that it did not possess previously. With his fame, he can produce even Noble Phantasms of C~E rank though the higher the rank the higher the cost of mana. Migraine:(B): A curse that was inherited from his place of birth during her mortal life. There is recorded evidence that Lewis Carrol suffered from chronic migraines, which is associated with Alice in Wonderland syndrome, or Dysmetropsia. From what could be gathered from his journals and the influences it had on his story, he experiences periods of where his perception of time changes, and cases of Micropsia and Macropsia, perceiving object as smaller or bigger than they actually are. When experiencing an episode, his mental skills decrease in effectiveness. It is very possible that this provided inspiration for Alice in Wonderland. Logician: Logical Reasoning(A)- Aside from being an author of children stories, he was also a mathematician whose work in mathematical logic pre-dated what would appear a hundred-years later. He was an author and solver of logic problems that still boggle the minds of logicians today and that is what this skill reflects. It is simply using mathematics to make logical deductions that has been elevated to the level of a skill. With the information presented to him, it can be used to predict and even confuse opponents as clairvoyance. Mental Pollution(EX): Abilities to influence or attack the mind do not work on him due to the absurd, illogical, yet logical world that his mind is. Noble Phantasms: Title: Mad Phantasmal Kingdom Rank: EX Type: Anti-Unit Range: 1-100 Targets: 300 Description: Simply put, this Noble Phantasm is quite literally summons things from Wonderland through the medium of a typewriter that Lewis can manifest at will where he types away what he wants to summon. It is actually an amalgamation of Alice in Wonderland, Looking Through the Looking Glass, and The Hunting of the Snark. Of course, the more powerful something is the longer it will take to summon it as well as a large cost of mana, but the inverse is true; the weaker something is the shorter amount of time it would take to summon, but that also means he could summon multiple at a time at less the cost. For example, a Jabberwock would take quite a bit of time to summon, but summoning the Card Soldiers in spades, no pun intended, would be faster and cheaper in terms of mana cost. He can also create holographic projections of his creations, but they can't harm anyone or anything. Mainly used for distractions.</s> <\|message\|>Adam Kenneth Yearling. Adam Kenneth Yearling - Miyama Town. If A.K. Yearling could say, sincerely, that he was mindful of his own safety, he would. But he could not - Esfandiyar's concerns were real, and A.K. was on the verge of burdening himself with every innocent life which could be potentially lost. But at the same time, he knew enough stories to know that war... War was hell and he had thrown himself into it, initially to prove himself to his family, but now because the story demanded a hero, even a martyr. And right now, as he continued looking for Elexis or some other Master, he had no regrets - Then he saw the flare from one of Shinto Town's lesser parks, and decided that compassion did not preclude practicality and vigilance. So he said to Esfandiyar, telepathically, Change of plans. We go to where someone is picking a fight, observe what fight is occuring, and make sure no civilians get caught in the crossfire in this night - That last part is my small-w wish. I'll pull out my Invisibility Cloak for protection. The young man, barely out of boyhood, then pulled out the Cloak and his Book and covered himself with the former, and began using Wind Magecraft with his basic spells in order to float towards Shinto Town, gesturing for Esfandiyar to folllow him in Spirit Form. As he flew towards his destination, his Cloak's properties allowing him to see inside and through it as though it were transparent, the Magus wrote the next few lines of his own story. As the first blows of the Holy Grail War began, the burden of commitment that the author had taken upon himself, a burden born from mixed compassion, duty, pride and self-righteousness, felt as light as air. Why was this? Had the author already given up on life as well as victory? Had he decided that joining the narrative of the world, the narrative he believed was his path to The Root, required his sacrifice? Nevertheless, the young man hoped against hope that Fate would be benevolent, and open an opportunity for him to achieve his goals, a small but existent chance to avert what he was fast believing was his doom. For part of him clung on to life, or at least the idea of life, even though he had given up on truly achieving his goals, given up on getting the acknowledgement he wanted... Moving from Miyama to Shinto Lord</s> <\|message\|>Lancer From Miyama to Shinto, Leaping @Raijinslayer --- Clang. Clang. The screech of iron against blazing stone rang out above Miyama town. The enemy had obviously upped the ante a bit in terms of the power she was putting into her attacks, and Raiden did just the same. Each tossed rock met with the shaft of that polearm and was sent hurtling generally back in the direction it had come from. If she wanted to learn about his abilities, then she could learn that attacks on this level were still something he could absolutely handle. After five throws, he hadn't missed one yet, and he was getting closer with each hit. More than just that. He was picking up speed and flashiness in equal measure, perhaps even revelling in the showiness of the battle. Every hit ended with a flourish, as he landed on a rooftop once again, staying still while Caster prepared her next attack before leaping up to meet it. No doubt, it was a fool's way of fighting... Had he been swinging his spear with his feet just now?! At this point, his movement was such a rapid blur that it was impossible to say. Clang. Clang. The screech of iron against blazing stone rang out above Fuyuki Bridge. "Hah! Anything else?!" Constantly picking up speed, each jump took Raiden noticeably further than the last. And yet that was completely counteracted by the fact that he came to a dead stop for a few seconds each time. He wasn't someone who prioritized efficiency, but that was his strength in its own way. He felt the sixth coming, crouched, and leapt again. The returning course of the rocks was no longer so random, now. If she was going to harass him endlessly like this while he crossed the city, it was only fair for him to return the favour a bit, yeah? The sixth stone clipped a satellite dish near where the pair were hovering, melting supports and sending it tumbling into the street below. The seventh hurtled past them, close enough for Kairi to feel the heat radiating off of it. After that, each one was aimed straight for Caster. Her own firecrackers careening through the air to return to their maker. Really, if she was any good as a magus, she could effortlessly deal with her own spell, but that was fine. It was the principle of the thing, really. Clang. Clang. The screech of iron against blazing stone rang out above Shinto town. The buildings here were taller. Despite leaping dozens of meters into the air to strike the twelfth stone, Lancer only needed to fall a few feet to land on top of the nearest skyscraper. He took a breath, feeling the cold night air across his skin. He may have only been allowed to walk around during the night, but that was still fine. It felt nice. He closed his eyes. Hm? The next one is... For a fool, Raiden had one hell of a brain. At the release of the new shot, which, compared to the rest, burned dimly enough to be almost undetectable, he moved just the same. In that moment, before he felt the presence of the stone, what he thought was hey, where's the attack I was expecting? His opponent didn't seem to be much of a warrior in the traditional sense, and he already had a "feel" for how and when she would act. Even if he couldn't predict what kind of magecraft this woman was using, he could definitely predict her throws. Clang. As the explosion began to simmer within that stone, it was repelled, flying backwards into the burning shot that had followed it. A collision to negate both attacks in a midair blast once they came together. Destroying two stones with one stone, so to say. Just as Caster had wished, a burst of light filled the sky, along with smoke and ash from the bullet-like stone. But in the midst of all that, where was Lancer? Where had he landed? Was he somehow obscured behind the debris and smoke from that explosion just now..? No, surely if that were the case, it would only take a simple spell to see through it. On the rooftop near to Caster, where the satellite dish had fallen, concrete shattered. No doubt, someone had just jumped from that spot. Even with the abilities he had shown so far, for him to make it this close so quickly was absolutely beyond expectations. Caster's attention should definitely have turned to that rooftop, where magical energy and sound were radiating. If Lancer had lunged from there to make a direct attack, she would only have a fraction of an instant to ready countermeasures to protect herself and her Master. Of course, he hadn't. His noisy leap from there had been completely horizontal, sending himself instantly to another rooftop, and from there... Another leap, silently this time, without shattering the rooftop beneath his feet. He cut through the air like a spear, and his spear cut through the air like--well, you get the idea. Before the magus' eyes could fully register that there was no one coming at her from the first rooftop, he was in the air behind her, thrusting that huge weapon at her body. There was no way to stop grinning as he attacked with blinding speed. "Was that fun? You've got a hell of an arm on you, Caster!" ...Doesn't shouting like that ruin the main point of a surprise attack, Raiden?</s>	<\|message\|>Wonderland Lewis Carroll Riverside Workshop, Southern Moor As an author Caster, Lewis did the one thing that he knew he could do; he wrote. What he spent the entire doing was enchanting the objects that Master had requested from him and when that job was complete, he went to fortify his Workshop. Well, it could hardly be called a Workshop and more like a Study. It was hardly that impressive in comparison to what the other Caster class servants could produce, but he wasn't a magus, not one in life at least. Unlike him, Master was outside using the magecraft that she honed throughout her life. It was sort of messed up how he could just be summoned with these abilities that many magi could only dream about when he could not perform a lick a of magic in his life. Not like he was complaining though. The sun has set and that meant war had just begun. Anyone could show up at their doorstep, but they would have a hell of a surprise to meet. Through the mental connection that he and his master had, he heard her speak to her in her ever polite manner. Thank you for your praise I shall be there in a moment. He faded into golden shimmer of light from his study and apparated in front of her in only a moment after she requested his presence. It seemed like she was starting to be a bit more open about what she is aiming for, but of course, it wasn't going to be just about her. Just as he inquired about her goals for the war, it was bound to happen that she was going to ask what his own motives are. Not that he could blame her; she needed to know if his wish for the Grail did not interfere with her own. "I don't know. What does a dead man wish for?" Caster mused over such a question. "World peace? Personal happiness?"</s>
<\|description\|>Alasayana, the Huntress Gender: Female Appearance: Rather short for perhaps what one thinks of when they think 'Goddess' standing at a fairly short 4'4, Yana has dusky, dark skin with eyes colored like the brightest emeralds. While some other Gods possess human traits, her domain and overall abilities have given her a somewhat unique more animalistic appearance. Black furry ears, and four rather lively tails with seeming minds of their own, able to move and twist about like serpents ready to devour any sinner in their vicinity. Personality: A wild, feral goddess of Hunting and Judgement who behaves as severe as one may expect a god of these divinities may behave. She inherently believes there is a strict morality and righteousness to the world, and any breaker of that morality is subject to divine judgement from herself. She will uphold this justice and punish evildoers with all the ferocity of a wild beast, sparing little for their pleas of mercy or repentance. Once judgement has been called, it can not be stopped. This of course, doesn't mean she's a mindless bringer of justice. She has just as much cunning and care as a beast might that is stalking prey. She knows when best to engage, and knows that most times, things do not require such extreme measures. She carries herself with all the dignity and grace that a wild beast might. Graceful, respectful but brutal and ferocious without taking insults or slights to her name without causing unneeded cruelty. Some would say this is arrogance on her part, and indeed, perhaps there is a little bit of that, but she is strong, and that is not something she should simply ignore. Her opinion on humans are simple - incredibly weak...but worth protecting. She loves nothing more than to simply watch them, go about their mundane lives, but finds it difficult to completely interact with them outside of business. She spent a week thinking of how to simply say hi to someone once. She's not using her aloof arrogance to hide shyness, definitely not. Domain: Hunting and Judgement Abilities: As she is a Goddess of Judgement, Yana possess abilities that instill order and rebuke those who commit sin and evil. There shall be no lies in her presence that can not be revealed, no deception that she doesn't sense, and no sin or evil creatures in her presence. This also puts her into a direct conflict with demons and other foul, abominable creatures born of whatever evil infects the world - they will be eradicated with all the righteous, feral fury she possesses. She can also purify such evil, even non-physical evil such as curses or lingering malignancy, though it may take some time if she can no directly devour it with her tails. That is to say, when facing such creatures her very nature rebukes them and they will cower and be weakened in her presence. Of course, this is just one half of her divine authority - the other being that of Hunts. Like a feral beast stalking its prey through the forest, she too, stalks evil and will devour it completely. This gives her a surprisingly stout and agile physicality, likely second only to some gods who domains solely focus on fighting or warfare. As well as skilled with a number of weapons and near preternatural senses for the hunt, such when something is dangerous, or when to avoid something how to stay and move unseen, how to move quietly without making a noise. Just like laws of man, she too also upholds fairness and law in the wild and once upon a time, lived as such within the forests of her old jungle domain. These two domains combine in a rather terrifyingly potent combination for sinners and those she 'Marks' as those judged to be evil. Anyone deemed as such, will find her relentlessly pursuing them until they are devoured by her tails. Once she gets even a single whiff of their scent, there shall be no recourse but to run for eternity or stand and bravely face your end. The ultimate expression of this power was being able to take the form of a massive, black hound stalking the land and devouring evil whole. Unfortunately, many of these abilities of evil-busting and hunting have become completely ineffective. Even her ability to sense and purify it has dwindled to that of normal human senses. All she has currently is her physical body, and manipulate her tails to fight and judge evil with. Don't be fooled though, the tails are basically four extra appendages. Four extra appendages with sharp teeth, ability to grow, elongate, and devour anything they get their mouths on and swallow it whole. Brief Backstory: A goddess once worshiped by those in areas perhaps less civilized, primarily in both a desert and tropical jungle regions and those who perhaps, sought justice and retribution against others outside of normal systems. After all, the human systems may be fallible, but a goddess judgement? Flawless. Perfect. Not a single one could argue. Even so, she was well known and widely at one point in those regions to be the purveyor of justice, hunters of evil, and the Goddess one should prey to for fruitful hunts. With a sword that vanquished demons and sinners, and tails that purified curses and evil, she stalked the sands and jungle, doling out punishments and stalking any demon that so dared to tread upon the earth. Yet, like all Gods that day, she met her end. How absurd, she thought. How pathetic. She doesn't remember what it was, of course. No one does...but she does know, that whatever it was, she'd have stood against it with fangs bared and gave it a good wallop before passing. What else is there to say? Surely you don't want to hear about the hunts.</s> <\|message\|>Aureia Aureia, of gold, commerce, wealth,and the far less important, trivial aspects of travel and luck "Eh? Ah, well," Aureia looked down at herself. She should have expected it, but she was caught off guard by the question from the goddess of love. An awfully leading question, at that. It was hard to deny that somehow her appearance had changed; she was smaller and shorter than she once was. Her clothes didn't help much with it, but at least when she groped her own chest, she did still have it, even if that too had gotten… smaller. It didn't seem like there was anything she could do to change her appearance; at her prime, it was not a problem at all to redo her own likeliness on her own whims. Now, even spontaneously changing clothes seemed to be harder than it formerly was. Annoying, but it was still something she could work with. She'd eventually regain her power and do whatever she wanted; maybe she'd even choose to keep this form, who knows. Rallying, she smirked back, lightly bapping Ashte on the head with her parasol. It was still a rude question, after all. "Eh, not really. It's annoying, but there's nothing wrong with being cuter, especially when I'm still beautiful. Who knows, perhaps I might receive even more worshippers this time around?" It didn't seem like O'Menus was simmering down at all, though. That said, it was hard to get the sun god to simmer to begin with, with that inflated ego of his! She sort of understood why he was taking this poorly, but the fit he was throwing was really putting a damper on her reawakening. Really, if she had the supplies, Aureia would already be holding a rebirth celebration party right here, with the other gods and the mortals all invited. Maybe sans sun god. She was sorely tempted to use her parasol again and give him a good, much harder whack with it, before the mortals started banging on the stairwell doors. An interesting development. The mortals of ten thousand years past had a very strange dialect and manner of speaking, but she understood the voices well enough. There it was, the girl was clearly someone to be protected. Aureia did wonder what god she was a priestess of, though. Maybe the entire pantheon, considering the diversity of the sadly small segment of deities that had been reawakened. Aureia was content to remain as she stood and let the mortals come to them. It only seemed natural, a fitting away for the returned gods to receive mortals once more, except the sun god once again thought differently. "This dummy…! He's going to ruin it all, the mortals come to us, not the other way around!" She huffed, and moved after him. Having O'Menus as the mortals' first interaction with the gods was going to bring nothing but trouble.</s> <\|message\|>Lopolay Lopaley Lopaley would take this immediate development seriously. The tone of their voices was not one that would present a sense of comradeship with the priestess. An invading force perhaps? Maybe the priestess had conducted a unceremonial ritual. Was their revival a fluke then? Unwanted by majority but wanted by the few. Questions that would erode at her mind. She would think on them later. For now she had a more immediate concern. "Alasayana, Trineon" The Time goddess would say as she turned to face the pair of gods. "May I carry this priestess." She would say kneeling before them both to gently lift the priestess into a sitting position even with their unconsious state.. In a manner more fit for a mortal then a god, she was handling the priestess with careful care. She didn't truely know how 'durable' a human was. So treating them like hourglass seemed appropriate. She was trying to present herself as an individual that did not want conflict. She also assumed that trying to struggle with a feverish person in the way gods did was just not appropriate at the moment. "We are likely going to need to have as much mobility as possible if there is a battle afoot. Your agility is best when your not protecting someone. So please. I beseech your trust. To allow me to care for this priestess for the time being. At least till we are among friends. Then you may resume your care of her." The time goddess implored the Hunter. She knew better then to get on the bad-side of a god of the hunt. Even with all the time in eternity. She didn't want to spend it having to run away. "And you Trineon, You would be better helping in the fighting would you not?" She would continue. Saying to the other god. AS she slowly got the priestess up onto her back. Carrying her carefully. Wrapping the sleeping girls arms around herself. She was effectively carrying a girl that was a little bigger then her but she could manage. She had helped in many a laborious task. She was no god of strength, nor was her strength particularly abhuman. But her endurance was second to none. Once the girl was on her back. She would make sure to hold the sleeper close. "There there sleeping priestess. Don't worry. You have plenty of time left yet." She would say as she would look at the two gods and then sigh as she looked back at the girl. "I'll use my power to slow down her time. So we'll have longer to get her proper attention." She'd say to the pair. As the gears in her golden-clockwork eye would start to whir. As she used her power upon the girl to slow the fever. To hopefully sty its progression for the time being. @VitaVitaAR@Rune_Alchemist</s>	<\|message\|>Alasayana, the Huntress Alasayana The hunt begins again - Unknown room --- Poor girl - but such was human fragility. Alasayana would allow Trineon to inspect the girl, the god of the oceans likely far better with healing than she was. She would have continued idly watching Menus, least his temper boil over like that of the desert wastelands scorching the sands, but Auriea said something much more helpful - humans. More of them. Above, likely outside whatever chamber this was. The Huntress would smile lightly at that. "Mhm. Worry not. I have no intention of causing undue injury. I was having a nice dream though...I think." Not that she would get very far before a commotion was heard. The loud noise offended her ears quite a bit - and the shouting...some sort of commotion? The words that were heard made it clear the humans were obviously concerned for this girl. A priestess, hm? Of whom, was the priestess of then? To summon all of them like this...this girl was proving to be more and more special by the second. It seemed O'menus was of a similar mindset, though he was reacting far more like she'd expect a tyrant too. Before she ran off, though...Lopaley's voice met her ears. A sound argument, but that didn't mean she liked it. "I see no reason why a conflict is a forgone conclusion." The goddess would reply with a frown. "It sounds like they are merely concerned for the girls safety. Returning her to them as she is will be the best thing we can do." She'd assert, though her eyes would follow Menus as he left. "...but given that ones disposition, I may need to restrain him before he hurts the mortals." The Huntress would sigh in a mildly tired fashion. "Very well, I'll allow you to look after her, but assuming they are not hostile, we attempt to return her to the humans first." She'd turn to leave, tails gently lifting the girl into Lopaley's arms as she'd turn to leave. So she would follow the others out, a purposeful, determined stride, tails tucking close to her body.</s>
<\|description\|>Alasayana, the Huntress Gender: Female Appearance: Rather short for perhaps what one thinks of when they think 'Goddess' standing at a fairly short 4'4, Yana has dusky, dark skin with eyes colored like the brightest emeralds. While some other Gods possess human traits, her domain and overall abilities have given her a somewhat unique more animalistic appearance. Black furry ears, and four rather lively tails with seeming minds of their own, able to move and twist about like serpents ready to devour any sinner in their vicinity. Personality: A wild, feral goddess of Hunting and Judgement who behaves as severe as one may expect a god of these divinities may behave. She inherently believes there is a strict morality and righteousness to the world, and any breaker of that morality is subject to divine judgement from herself. She will uphold this justice and punish evildoers with all the ferocity of a wild beast, sparing little for their pleas of mercy or repentance. Once judgement has been called, it can not be stopped. This of course, doesn't mean she's a mindless bringer of justice. She has just as much cunning and care as a beast might that is stalking prey. She knows when best to engage, and knows that most times, things do not require such extreme measures. She carries herself with all the dignity and grace that a wild beast might. Graceful, respectful but brutal and ferocious without taking insults or slights to her name without causing unneeded cruelty. Some would say this is arrogance on her part, and indeed, perhaps there is a little bit of that, but she is strong, and that is not something she should simply ignore. Her opinion on humans are simple - incredibly weak...but worth protecting. She loves nothing more than to simply watch them, go about their mundane lives, but finds it difficult to completely interact with them outside of business. She spent a week thinking of how to simply say hi to someone once. She's not using her aloof arrogance to hide shyness, definitely not. Domain: Hunting and Judgement Abilities: As she is a Goddess of Judgement, Yana possess abilities that instill order and rebuke those who commit sin and evil. There shall be no lies in her presence that can not be revealed, no deception that she doesn't sense, and no sin or evil creatures in her presence. This also puts her into a direct conflict with demons and other foul, abominable creatures born of whatever evil infects the world - they will be eradicated with all the righteous, feral fury she possesses. She can also purify such evil, even non-physical evil such as curses or lingering malignancy, though it may take some time if she can no directly devour it with her tails. That is to say, when facing such creatures her very nature rebukes them and they will cower and be weakened in her presence. Of course, this is just one half of her divine authority - the other being that of Hunts. Like a feral beast stalking its prey through the forest, she too, stalks evil and will devour it completely. This gives her a surprisingly stout and agile physicality, likely second only to some gods who domains solely focus on fighting or warfare. As well as skilled with a number of weapons and near preternatural senses for the hunt, such when something is dangerous, or when to avoid something how to stay and move unseen, how to move quietly without making a noise. Just like laws of man, she too also upholds fairness and law in the wild and once upon a time, lived as such within the forests of her old jungle domain. These two domains combine in a rather terrifyingly potent combination for sinners and those she 'Marks' as those judged to be evil. Anyone deemed as such, will find her relentlessly pursuing them until they are devoured by her tails. Once she gets even a single whiff of their scent, there shall be no recourse but to run for eternity or stand and bravely face your end. The ultimate expression of this power was being able to take the form of a massive, black hound stalking the land and devouring evil whole. Unfortunately, many of these abilities of evil-busting and hunting have become completely ineffective. Even her ability to sense and purify it has dwindled to that of normal human senses. All she has currently is her physical body, and manipulate her tails to fight and judge evil with. Don't be fooled though, the tails are basically four extra appendages. Four extra appendages with sharp teeth, ability to grow, elongate, and devour anything they get their mouths on and swallow it whole. Brief Backstory: A goddess once worshiped by those in areas perhaps less civilized, primarily in both a desert and tropical jungle regions and those who perhaps, sought justice and retribution against others outside of normal systems. After all, the human systems may be fallible, but a goddess judgement? Flawless. Perfect. Not a single one could argue. Even so, she was well known and widely at one point in those regions to be the purveyor of justice, hunters of evil, and the Goddess one should prey to for fruitful hunts. With a sword that vanquished demons and sinners, and tails that purified curses and evil, she stalked the sands and jungle, doling out punishments and stalking any demon that so dared to tread upon the earth. Yet, like all Gods that day, she met her end. How absurd, she thought. How pathetic. She doesn't remember what it was, of course. No one does...but she does know, that whatever it was, she'd have stood against it with fangs bared and gave it a good wallop before passing. What else is there to say? Surely you don't want to hear about the hunts.</s> <\|message\|>Aureia Aureia, of gold, commerce, wealth,and the far less important, trivial aspects of travel and luck The door at the top of the staircase was a very sturdy looking barrier. The fact that it had been dented meant that whatever the mortals were using to try and breach it was a very powerful weapon, indeed. More intriguing, though, was the way the doors slid open as she approached it, but even that became of little interest compared to what the open door revealed. Like the mortals before her, Aureia had to take a pause to take in the enormity of the scene in front of her. Her eyes narrowed as she observed the blood and gore, the number of dead and living, and their equipment. It seemed, even ten thousand years later, there would always be armor and swords, however unusual. The strange tube-like devices in their hands were another thing entirely, though. They had been shooting volleys at the door—where were the siege engines that could do damage to such a strong door? It was entirely possible that what they wielded were strange staves, and they had been firing volleys of spells at the door, though if that were the case, then she must be very weak indeed, if she couldn't detect the magic. Her eyes drifted to the carnage on the ground. A lopsided battle and a heroic stand had occurred here. In the past, the knowledge of such parties would have been trivial to her, but here, she only had her eyes to work with—who are these two parties of mortals, and more importantly, which group was affiliated with the priestess or had otherwise summoned the gods? By color palette alone, she had to assume the white-clad priestess was more likely to be familiar with the fallen knight than the crimson-armored soldiers. As the patron of commerce, though, she knew better than to assume, and instead contented herself for the moment to observe the exchange between the commander and his subordinate, finding it amusing. She took the time to pick her own brain on how she'd introduce herself, vocalizing her thoughts at the same time. "Hmm… what should I say? It's been ten thousand years. Maybe something quick, since there's so many people. Maybe 'Hello, mortal'? But that's so uninspired," she muttered, before realizing she was being addressed, and rudely, at that. "Oh. Ahem. Greetings, mortal. Oh. Oh my, oh dear. You mortals can't be serious. You wouldn't mind repeating that again, would you?" Fake friendliness filled the tone of her voice as she processed the gall of the man's statement. She'd give him the benefit of the doubt, it was ten thousand years and all, maybe it was some strange slang, because she was pretty sure the man had just tried to order around the divine under the authority of some mortal pretty boy. A pretty bad first impression, all things considered. Surely they weren't…? Oh, they were doubling down. Aureia had been in a good mood from being reawakened, but threatening her and insulting a fellow goddess –one that she respected-- in such an impudent way was a very effective way to ruin that. "I am Aureia, goddess of wealth and commerce. And travel and luck, but that is far less important. That 'beastkin' you see there is the Goddess of Hunting and Judgment. By what insolence do you and your 'holy' emperor presume to make a mockery of the divine and order us around?" She shifted her umbrella forwards, pointing it directly at the face of the red armored commander. It had taken on a dangerous appearance; the tip had morphed into a golden spike, and a single spoke along the edge had transformed into a long, thin razor along the length of the umbrella. She gave them a polite smile. Still riding some of her good mood, she gave them one last chance. She doubted the rest of her fellow gods would be as forgiving and wait for their response, but whatever. "How about I offer a counter proposal? Surrender and submit to our judgment, or die."</s> <\|message\|>O'Menus Hexagonal Chamber - O'Menus The scene before him was of a different kind than he was use to. The viscera, strewn about organs and splattering of blood, the desperate death-prone bodies; most gripping or squeezing onto their last vestiges of mortality was typically ashes where he dispensed his ordinance. A particularly damaged warrior, filled with puncture holes and stabbed by swords, held his cold gaze the longest. 'Useless specks, even killing is a messy deed for them... Though that weapon looks valuable.' He fixed his eyes onto the stupidest of the armored-mortals, the one so idiotically bold or misled that he presumed to speak to Gods of divinity. That roused the core of his being, the heat that permeated his entirety, to attention. For a moment, he could remember what his original strength felt like, it allowed him to pull the vestiges together. To rally his now meager strength to its fullness. The sudden roar, or rather the luminance and birth of his flames pushed, Aureia's proposal into a death-sentence. The harsh light bloomed over the darkness for just a moment. The mortals didn't deserve his emotions; the scene that laid before him, before all the Gods, had decided they were ready to die. Apathetically, he considered them, wary of their tubular weapons. The flames that spewed from him gathered around his right forearm, a barren kite shield of hard-fire forming into existence. "There will be no surrender. They have threatened Gods... their fates will be death," he spoke aloud. He hoisted together all his Godly might and sprinted into action. Forming the shield, coupled with his show of strength was draining. He needed a weapon so he snatched the white blade from the dead warrior nearby and rushed towards the army. He assumed those puncture holes were made from those tubular sticks they were aiming at them. He covered his torso with the shield and ran straight for the horned-headed mortal, sword held at his side, ready for an exterminating decapitation.</s>	<\|message\|>Alasayana, the Huntress Alasayana The hunt begins again --- As she ascended the stairs, the Huntress began pondering the ways she should be greeting the mortals. She didn't wish to scare them, or hurt them - more than once her prodigious strength caused some accidents when she wasn't paying attention. But she was a Goddess, she couldn't casually simply go around saying hello to mortals. There was a proper procedure to these things...hm, loud but friendly introduction? Make them give her an offering of fruit? Maybe ask one to take care of her divine tails. They probably haven't been properly maintained in so long. She could already hear them complaining. Or maybe she should thank them for waking her- Perhaps she had been too optimistic. The chamber they exited from held little interest to her. Its construction was curious, to be sure, but she doubted she'd glean anything from it all things considered. So she would step into the welcoming outside air, gazing over the stony expanse, a far cry from the warm sands and colorful jungles she was used too. The forest far below seemed welcoming, but alas - it seemed she may need to perform her duties as a hunter of evil before she could immerse herself in the luxuries of such a welcoming sight. Two dozen. Maybe a handful of more. Instead of keeping her tails close to her to appear as non-threatening as possible, she'd quickly change her tune the moment the carnage before her became apparent. The four appendages would extend outwards, gazing in all directions as to not let a single human here go unnoticed, not even the dead. A single large humanoid...metal construct? Of some sort lay slain...and near the door to them, was a man. Unmoving, also deceased. It was easy to guess what had happened here. A protector, slain by these before her. So, these people were after this priestess, and likely had far less noble intentions. "I see." Alasayana would inhale. Fury of the righteous sort would begin beating within. "I shall remember your face, warrior, and those stalwart eyes of yours. You did well. Please, rest. I will handle everything else." An exhale as she would offer a small comfort to the already deceased soldiers spirit as she would turn towards the Goddess of Commerce. "Save your breath, Auriea. As much as I loathe to agree with the Sun, I doubt they will listen...and I can not let their apparent transgressions go." With O'Menus taking the golden blade belonging to the warrior, Alasayana would opt for the best weapon she would know how to wield. "If they wish to become prey for challenging the Gods and our apparent benefactors, then so be it. Lopaley protect the priestess." She would turn her attention to the mob before them. Her tails would writhe behind her, the once passive faces upon them snarling, glaring at the red clad soldiers gathered. She would stand before them as O'Menus would begin his rush to their apparent leader. Even if she could no longer sense evil, hostility, lies and the sort of things that bred and fostered evil...she needn't such senses to determine what those before her were - and as a Goddess, she could not be wrong in her judgements. "Know this, mortals! I am Alasayana the Goddess of Hunt and she who judges the guilty and consigns their souls to oblivion!" The Goddess would open her eyes, divine fury burning within. "Stand before me and accept your fate, or Flee! It will not matter. Not a single one of you will leave here alive for your sins!" And thus, her judgement had been given. Guilty. For the first time in a millennia, the Goddess of the hunt, would do so once more. While O'menus would rush towards the apparent leader, she would rush towards the assembled troops. Black, bestial maws each going for a different soldier as they would rip and tear, drag and slam them against the ground or other soldiers as she would rush into the fray.</s>
<\|description\|>Ashte * Gender: Female * Appearance: Extremely pretty... and of absolutely, absurdly average height. Well, it was absolutely average in the distant past. Now it might not be. * Personality: A contradictory sort; to those with her love and favour, Ashte is doting and affectionate, forgiving of their mistakes and willing to give them multiple chances. To her enemies, there is no quarter until their complete defeat; no mercy will be offered until an enemy is crushed beyond the point of being able to rise up again. To those who have neither her love nor her hate, Ashte is reserved and haughty, a proud goddess who expects to be deferred to and loved first. * Domain: Love and War. Of course, in the general sense this also makes her a goddess of fertility and beauty and organisation and such things; as a goddess so closely tied to mortal concepts, she enjoys the fuzziness of the boundary regions between domains. * Abilities: In the old days, Ashte was a goddess who had nearly as many ways to face down her enemies as she did lovers. She could have perfect insight over a battlefield and relay orders with a precision and speed no mortal could hope to match, leading her troops in a perfect dance to confound enemies that would have thought them helpless. Her presence on the battlefield could be a rallying beacon to inspire ability and endeavours beyond normal limitations. Or she could show them all exactly how it was done, and take to the battlefield herself, with nothing more than martial ability and vast divine power. Or, often, all three at once; nothing makes a battle easier than waving a juicy but impregnable target in front of your enemies. In her current state, none of those remain, aside from some thoroughly mortal-achievable but superlative skill at arms. Instead, the remaining facet of Ashte's warlike skills is part of an ability that would allow her to be an army: conjuring and reshaping a scant pair of weapons to hover close around her and fight autonomously, if she doesn't wish to wield one or both herself. Of course, these still have a spark of the divine about them--they cut far more things than normal steel would. As for the other aspect of her domain, she's still extremely pretty. Anything that would permanently interfere with that won't stick. She's quite annoyed at how... immutable her body is right now, however. Some people have particular interests that can't be satisfied this way! It really loses out on regal, divine presence, too, to be so... not huge. * Brief Backstory: Ashte's time as a major deity was rapacious and expansionist, inevitably coming into conflict with those surrounding her followers that refused to be swayed. Those that refused her love could only be treated as suspicion, as having ulterior motives--in such a volatile region, how could anyone that refused to ally or submit be anything but an enemy in waiting Of course, it's quite embarrassing--and obvious, in hindsight--that the real enemy would be someone only feigning adoration and abusing her good graces. Not that she's likely to be much more suspicious of her lovers this time...</s> <\|message\|>O'Menus Hexagonal Chamber - O'Menus O'Menus had dealt with Aureia before, her dealings in treasure and gold trinkets were valuable yet this new haughty side of her was an irritant. 'These Gods mistake themselves to be my equal. This is why tolerance is earned not given.' The heat in his left hand surged with more effort than desired. Containing his ire was especially difficult, so much in fact that he became even tenser, if that was possible. He gave the Gods more leeway than mortals but not much. The core of his existence didn't allow room for disagreements to his wishes. The muscles of his jaw tightened, another sign of his attempts to wrestle down his combative nature. Aureia's words towards the end, which felt to him to be a shot at his actions, folded his arms even tighter against his chest. The contradiction between his desires and actions, sent a wispy flame from his cheek. A quick warning, if nothing else. He rolled his neck and grunted. The horned Goddess's honeyed chiding vexed him into a fit. Who was she to lecture him, in fact, who were they to rebuke his rulings. Even the Gods could die apparently, which meant they could be slain should one supreme deity will it so. 'Refrain yourself. You are weakened with little knowledge of the others' current strength.' Even still, the tips of his left fingers came alive with sputtering flames. And as his eyes met each of them while they prattled on and over the short insignificant life of the mortal, he noticed... rather felt the intent of the Tailed-Goddess. She was an animal ready to pounce. A crude, barbaric thing dreaming that it could face a God King. "Enough," he uttered, even though only a few seconds had passed. It was obvious something had shifted in his demeanor. He was ready for war. His arms came unfurled, each was taunt, his hands were shaped like grasping claws. The left, after massive resolve, blazed to life and crawled up his forearm. The roar of his flames brought a terrible heat with it. "Three chances is too generous for you 'lot. I have neither the patience or desire to wait... I'm doing this my way," he told them, stepping forward, ready to retaliate if necessary. Yet, he paused unexpectedly. His gaze shifting as voices started to parade beyond them all. Then a desperate voice resounded clearly. 'Priestess?' he pondered, looking dispassionate at the frail speck. 'So she's not as insignificant as I first presumed.' O'Menus stepped forward with little malice in his stride. A ruler strode forth with obvious, deliberate intent. Anyone that stood between him and the stairway would cause him to pause but be met with little interest. "We have our answers now," he told the others, heading towards the voices to see what was beyond the Hexagonal Chamber. The closer he came, the lower the flames on his arms died out.</s> <\|message\|>Aureia Aureia, of gold, commerce, wealth,and the far less important, trivial aspects of travel and luck "Eh? Ah, well," Aureia looked down at herself. She should have expected it, but she was caught off guard by the question from the goddess of love. An awfully leading question, at that. It was hard to deny that somehow her appearance had changed; she was smaller and shorter than she once was. Her clothes didn't help much with it, but at least when she groped her own chest, she did still have it, even if that too had gotten… smaller. It didn't seem like there was anything she could do to change her appearance; at her prime, it was not a problem at all to redo her own likeliness on her own whims. Now, even spontaneously changing clothes seemed to be harder than it formerly was. Annoying, but it was still something she could work with. She'd eventually regain her power and do whatever she wanted; maybe she'd even choose to keep this form, who knows. Rallying, she smirked back, lightly bapping Ashte on the head with her parasol. It was still a rude question, after all. "Eh, not really. It's annoying, but there's nothing wrong with being cuter, especially when I'm still beautiful. Who knows, perhaps I might receive even more worshippers this time around?" It didn't seem like O'Menus was simmering down at all, though. That said, it was hard to get the sun god to simmer to begin with, with that inflated ego of his! She sort of understood why he was taking this poorly, but the fit he was throwing was really putting a damper on her reawakening. Really, if she had the supplies, Aureia would already be holding a rebirth celebration party right here, with the other gods and the mortals all invited. Maybe sans sun god. She was sorely tempted to use her parasol again and give him a good, much harder whack with it, before the mortals started banging on the stairwell doors. An interesting development. The mortals of ten thousand years past had a very strange dialect and manner of speaking, but she understood the voices well enough. There it was, the girl was clearly someone to be protected. Aureia did wonder what god she was a priestess of, though. Maybe the entire pantheon, considering the diversity of the sadly small segment of deities that had been reawakened. Aureia was content to remain as she stood and let the mortals come to them. It only seemed natural, a fitting away for the returned gods to receive mortals once more, except the sun god once again thought differently. "This dummy…! He's going to ruin it all, the mortals come to us, not the other way around!" She huffed, and moved after him. Having O'Menus as the mortals' first interaction with the gods was going to bring nothing but trouble.</s> <\|message\|>Lopolay Lopaley Lopaley would take this immediate development seriously. The tone of their voices was not one that would present a sense of comradeship with the priestess. An invading force perhaps? Maybe the priestess had conducted a unceremonial ritual. Was their revival a fluke then? Unwanted by majority but wanted by the few. Questions that would erode at her mind. She would think on them later. For now she had a more immediate concern. "Alasayana, Trineon" The Time goddess would say as she turned to face the pair of gods. "May I carry this priestess." She would say kneeling before them both to gently lift the priestess into a sitting position even with their unconsious state.. In a manner more fit for a mortal then a god, she was handling the priestess with careful care. She didn't truely know how 'durable' a human was. So treating them like hourglass seemed appropriate. She was trying to present herself as an individual that did not want conflict. She also assumed that trying to struggle with a feverish person in the way gods did was just not appropriate at the moment. "We are likely going to need to have as much mobility as possible if there is a battle afoot. Your agility is best when your not protecting someone. So please. I beseech your trust. To allow me to care for this priestess for the time being. At least till we are among friends. Then you may resume your care of her." The time goddess implored the Hunter. She knew better then to get on the bad-side of a god of the hunt. Even with all the time in eternity. She didn't want to spend it having to run away. "And you Trineon, You would be better helping in the fighting would you not?" She would continue. Saying to the other god. AS she slowly got the priestess up onto her back. Carrying her carefully. Wrapping the sleeping girls arms around herself. She was effectively carrying a girl that was a little bigger then her but she could manage. She had helped in many a laborious task. She was no god of strength, nor was her strength particularly abhuman. But her endurance was second to none. Once the girl was on her back. She would make sure to hold the sleeper close. "There there sleeping priestess. Don't worry. You have plenty of time left yet." She would say as she would look at the two gods and then sigh as she looked back at the girl. "I'll use my power to slow down her time. So we'll have longer to get her proper attention." She'd say to the pair. As the gears in her golden-clockwork eye would start to whir. As she used her power upon the girl to slow the fever. To hopefully sty its progression for the time being. @VitaVitaAR@Rune_Alchemist</s> <\|message\|>Alasayana, the Huntress Alasayana The hunt begins again - Unknown room --- Poor girl - but such was human fragility. Alasayana would allow Trineon to inspect the girl, the god of the oceans likely far better with healing than she was. She would have continued idly watching Menus, least his temper boil over like that of the desert wastelands scorching the sands, but Auriea said something much more helpful - humans. More of them. Above, likely outside whatever chamber this was. The Huntress would smile lightly at that. "Mhm. Worry not. I have no intention of causing undue injury. I was having a nice dream though...I think." Not that she would get very far before a commotion was heard. The loud noise offended her ears quite a bit - and the shouting...some sort of commotion? The words that were heard made it clear the humans were obviously concerned for this girl. A priestess, hm? Of whom, was the priestess of then? To summon all of them like this...this girl was proving to be more and more special by the second. It seemed O'menus was of a similar mindset, though he was reacting far more like she'd expect a tyrant too. Before she ran off, though...Lopaley's voice met her ears. A sound argument, but that didn't mean she liked it. "I see no reason why a conflict is a forgone conclusion." The goddess would reply with a frown. "It sounds like they are merely concerned for the girls safety. Returning her to them as she is will be the best thing we can do." She'd assert, though her eyes would follow Menus as he left. "...but given that ones disposition, I may need to restrain him before he hurts the mortals." The Huntress would sigh in a mildly tired fashion. "Very well, I'll allow you to look after her, but assuming they are not hostile, we attempt to return her to the humans first." She'd turn to leave, tails gently lifting the girl into Lopaley's arms as she'd turn to leave. So she would follow the others out, a purposeful, determined stride, tails tucking close to her body.</s>	<\|message\|>Ashte "Why would I ever be the one to disapprove of something cute?" the horned goddess asked, likewise making her way towards the clamour. So, the feverish girl was a priestess of some sort? Oh, that was interesting; it had been obvious she must have had something to do with their revival just from the entire scene... hm, that probably explained the fever, too. It had to be quite draining, awakening dead gods from their eternal slumber, mustn't it? Ah, she'd have to make sure to pamper the poor thing once they acquired more resources. Well, if she hadn't intentionally picked them out from all the possibilities. Not that she'd say it to his face--really, like any halfway reasonable person, she wouldn't say anything to his face--but O'Menus was simply impossible to deal with. Like he was the only god with ambitions of rulership--if you could even call what he'd done ruling--or that the world required him for sunlight. No, but there was no point revisiting old irritations yet... just a note to punish the girl appropriately if she'd picked that hothead. Well, hopefully these mortals didn't want anything too problematic, their current state wasn't up to snuff...</s>
<\|description\|>Ashte * Gender: Female * Appearance: Extremely pretty... and of absolutely, absurdly average height. Well, it was absolutely average in the distant past. Now it might not be. * Personality: A contradictory sort; to those with her love and favour, Ashte is doting and affectionate, forgiving of their mistakes and willing to give them multiple chances. To her enemies, there is no quarter until their complete defeat; no mercy will be offered until an enemy is crushed beyond the point of being able to rise up again. To those who have neither her love nor her hate, Ashte is reserved and haughty, a proud goddess who expects to be deferred to and loved first. * Domain: Love and War. Of course, in the general sense this also makes her a goddess of fertility and beauty and organisation and such things; as a goddess so closely tied to mortal concepts, she enjoys the fuzziness of the boundary regions between domains. * Abilities: In the old days, Ashte was a goddess who had nearly as many ways to face down her enemies as she did lovers. She could have perfect insight over a battlefield and relay orders with a precision and speed no mortal could hope to match, leading her troops in a perfect dance to confound enemies that would have thought them helpless. Her presence on the battlefield could be a rallying beacon to inspire ability and endeavours beyond normal limitations. Or she could show them all exactly how it was done, and take to the battlefield herself, with nothing more than martial ability and vast divine power. Or, often, all three at once; nothing makes a battle easier than waving a juicy but impregnable target in front of your enemies. In her current state, none of those remain, aside from some thoroughly mortal-achievable but superlative skill at arms. Instead, the remaining facet of Ashte's warlike skills is part of an ability that would allow her to be an army: conjuring and reshaping a scant pair of weapons to hover close around her and fight autonomously, if she doesn't wish to wield one or both herself. Of course, these still have a spark of the divine about them--they cut far more things than normal steel would. As for the other aspect of her domain, she's still extremely pretty. Anything that would permanently interfere with that won't stick. She's quite annoyed at how... immutable her body is right now, however. Some people have particular interests that can't be satisfied this way! It really loses out on regal, divine presence, too, to be so... not huge. * Brief Backstory: Ashte's time as a major deity was rapacious and expansionist, inevitably coming into conflict with those surrounding her followers that refused to be swayed. Those that refused her love could only be treated as suspicion, as having ulterior motives--in such a volatile region, how could anyone that refused to ally or submit be anything but an enemy in waiting Of course, it's quite embarrassing--and obvious, in hindsight--that the real enemy would be someone only feigning adoration and abusing her good graces. Not that she's likely to be much more suspicious of her lovers this time...</s> <\|message\|>Aureia Aureia, of gold, commerce, wealth,and the far less important, trivial aspects of travel and luck The door at the top of the staircase was a very sturdy looking barrier. The fact that it had been dented meant that whatever the mortals were using to try and breach it was a very powerful weapon, indeed. More intriguing, though, was the way the doors slid open as she approached it, but even that became of little interest compared to what the open door revealed. Like the mortals before her, Aureia had to take a pause to take in the enormity of the scene in front of her. Her eyes narrowed as she observed the blood and gore, the number of dead and living, and their equipment. It seemed, even ten thousand years later, there would always be armor and swords, however unusual. The strange tube-like devices in their hands were another thing entirely, though. They had been shooting volleys at the door—where were the siege engines that could do damage to such a strong door? It was entirely possible that what they wielded were strange staves, and they had been firing volleys of spells at the door, though if that were the case, then she must be very weak indeed, if she couldn't detect the magic. Her eyes drifted to the carnage on the ground. A lopsided battle and a heroic stand had occurred here. In the past, the knowledge of such parties would have been trivial to her, but here, she only had her eyes to work with—who are these two parties of mortals, and more importantly, which group was affiliated with the priestess or had otherwise summoned the gods? By color palette alone, she had to assume the white-clad priestess was more likely to be familiar with the fallen knight than the crimson-armored soldiers. As the patron of commerce, though, she knew better than to assume, and instead contented herself for the moment to observe the exchange between the commander and his subordinate, finding it amusing. She took the time to pick her own brain on how she'd introduce herself, vocalizing her thoughts at the same time. "Hmm… what should I say? It's been ten thousand years. Maybe something quick, since there's so many people. Maybe 'Hello, mortal'? But that's so uninspired," she muttered, before realizing she was being addressed, and rudely, at that. "Oh. Ahem. Greetings, mortal. Oh. Oh my, oh dear. You mortals can't be serious. You wouldn't mind repeating that again, would you?" Fake friendliness filled the tone of her voice as she processed the gall of the man's statement. She'd give him the benefit of the doubt, it was ten thousand years and all, maybe it was some strange slang, because she was pretty sure the man had just tried to order around the divine under the authority of some mortal pretty boy. A pretty bad first impression, all things considered. Surely they weren't…? Oh, they were doubling down. Aureia had been in a good mood from being reawakened, but threatening her and insulting a fellow goddess –one that she respected-- in such an impudent way was a very effective way to ruin that. "I am Aureia, goddess of wealth and commerce. And travel and luck, but that is far less important. That 'beastkin' you see there is the Goddess of Hunting and Judgment. By what insolence do you and your 'holy' emperor presume to make a mockery of the divine and order us around?" She shifted her umbrella forwards, pointing it directly at the face of the red armored commander. It had taken on a dangerous appearance; the tip had morphed into a golden spike, and a single spoke along the edge had transformed into a long, thin razor along the length of the umbrella. She gave them a polite smile. Still riding some of her good mood, she gave them one last chance. She doubted the rest of her fellow gods would be as forgiving and wait for their response, but whatever. "How about I offer a counter proposal? Surrender and submit to our judgment, or die."</s> <\|message\|>O'Menus Hexagonal Chamber - O'Menus The scene before him was of a different kind than he was use to. The viscera, strewn about organs and splattering of blood, the desperate death-prone bodies; most gripping or squeezing onto their last vestiges of mortality was typically ashes where he dispensed his ordinance. A particularly damaged warrior, filled with puncture holes and stabbed by swords, held his cold gaze the longest. 'Useless specks, even killing is a messy deed for them... Though that weapon looks valuable.' He fixed his eyes onto the stupidest of the armored-mortals, the one so idiotically bold or misled that he presumed to speak to Gods of divinity. That roused the core of his being, the heat that permeated his entirety, to attention. For a moment, he could remember what his original strength felt like, it allowed him to pull the vestiges together. To rally his now meager strength to its fullness. The sudden roar, or rather the luminance and birth of his flames pushed, Aureia's proposal into a death-sentence. The harsh light bloomed over the darkness for just a moment. The mortals didn't deserve his emotions; the scene that laid before him, before all the Gods, had decided they were ready to die. Apathetically, he considered them, wary of their tubular weapons. The flames that spewed from him gathered around his right forearm, a barren kite shield of hard-fire forming into existence. "There will be no surrender. They have threatened Gods... their fates will be death," he spoke aloud. He hoisted together all his Godly might and sprinted into action. Forming the shield, coupled with his show of strength was draining. He needed a weapon so he snatched the white blade from the dead warrior nearby and rushed towards the army. He assumed those puncture holes were made from those tubular sticks they were aiming at them. He covered his torso with the shield and ran straight for the horned-headed mortal, sword held at his side, ready for an exterminating decapitation.</s> <\|message\|>Alasayana, the Huntress Alasayana The hunt begins again --- As she ascended the stairs, the Huntress began pondering the ways she should be greeting the mortals. She didn't wish to scare them, or hurt them - more than once her prodigious strength caused some accidents when she wasn't paying attention. But she was a Goddess, she couldn't casually simply go around saying hello to mortals. There was a proper procedure to these things...hm, loud but friendly introduction? Make them give her an offering of fruit? Maybe ask one to take care of her divine tails. They probably haven't been properly maintained in so long. She could already hear them complaining. Or maybe she should thank them for waking her- Perhaps she had been too optimistic. The chamber they exited from held little interest to her. Its construction was curious, to be sure, but she doubted she'd glean anything from it all things considered. So she would step into the welcoming outside air, gazing over the stony expanse, a far cry from the warm sands and colorful jungles she was used too. The forest far below seemed welcoming, but alas - it seemed she may need to perform her duties as a hunter of evil before she could immerse herself in the luxuries of such a welcoming sight. Two dozen. Maybe a handful of more. Instead of keeping her tails close to her to appear as non-threatening as possible, she'd quickly change her tune the moment the carnage before her became apparent. The four appendages would extend outwards, gazing in all directions as to not let a single human here go unnoticed, not even the dead. A single large humanoid...metal construct? Of some sort lay slain...and near the door to them, was a man. Unmoving, also deceased. It was easy to guess what had happened here. A protector, slain by these before her. So, these people were after this priestess, and likely had far less noble intentions. "I see." Alasayana would inhale. Fury of the righteous sort would begin beating within. "I shall remember your face, warrior, and those stalwart eyes of yours. You did well. Please, rest. I will handle everything else." An exhale as she would offer a small comfort to the already deceased soldiers spirit as she would turn towards the Goddess of Commerce. "Save your breath, Auriea. As much as I loathe to agree with the Sun, I doubt they will listen...and I can not let their apparent transgressions go." With O'Menus taking the golden blade belonging to the warrior, Alasayana would opt for the best weapon she would know how to wield. "If they wish to become prey for challenging the Gods and our apparent benefactors, then so be it. Lopaley protect the priestess." She would turn her attention to the mob before them. Her tails would writhe behind her, the once passive faces upon them snarling, glaring at the red clad soldiers gathered. She would stand before them as O'Menus would begin his rush to their apparent leader. Even if she could no longer sense evil, hostility, lies and the sort of things that bred and fostered evil...she needn't such senses to determine what those before her were - and as a Goddess, she could not be wrong in her judgements. "Know this, mortals! I am Alasayana the Goddess of Hunt and she who judges the guilty and consigns their souls to oblivion!" The Goddess would open her eyes, divine fury burning within. "Stand before me and accept your fate, or Flee! It will not matter. Not a single one of you will leave here alive for your sins!" And thus, her judgement had been given. Guilty. For the first time in a millennia, the Goddess of the hunt, would do so once more. While O'menus would rush towards the apparent leader, she would rush towards the assembled troops. Black, bestial maws each going for a different soldier as they would rip and tear, drag and slam them against the ground or other soldiers as she would rush into the fray.</s>	<\|message\|>Ashte ... was it really okay to let these two make first impressions? Maybe she and Aureia should run ahead of everyone else next time? Not that Ashte had anything against fighting--that would be completely ridiculous--but there was more to winning a war than killing everything that stood in your path. Knowing thy enemy, for instance, which was really not helped if you murdered everyone that even looked at you funny. Right now, she didn't feel like they could take on an entire army either. Well, the choice was out of her hands and at least this spared her the need to engage in making some overly flower declaration. That was something the white-haired goddess had never been too good at. Pillow talk? Rousing speeches? Those were fine but just... acting pompous on demand with no purpose to it? Where was the fun in that? It was a fortunate time to discover that her instincts were still working, her second shield forming as one of the red-clad soldiers pointed his tubular stick at her, the projectile embedding into the holy metal with a resounding clang. That was... unpleasantly close, she would have to pay more attention to fighting mortals until her power was back up to spec. And pay attention to this one she did, darting up to this one outside of the rampaging huntress's path, a cheerful smile on her face as her arms snapped into place around his. Twist, and... Oh, this was an interesting weapon, wasn't it? Ah, if she had enough of them, and faithful soldiers... the tactics that she could pull off with perfect battlefield awareness and a ranged implement such as this. It wouldn't be as fun or exciting as a pitched battlefield but being able to eliminate specific targets in the dead of night... She slammed the butt off the weapon into the disoriented soldier a few more times, knocking him to the ground. At least that way, they'd have someone to interrogate afterwards. Then, shields ready to intercept if anyone looked in her direction, Ashte scanned the battlefield... ah, that one had an even bigger tube? Best stop him first. One, two... their armour was unsurprisingly resilient to their own weapons, but it seemed multiple shots in the same spot could still go through. If you could do it. If the weapons had changed this much, how had warfare? Oh, this would be exciting.</s>
<\|description\|>Ashte * Gender: Female * Appearance: Extremely pretty... and of absolutely, absurdly average height. Well, it was absolutely average in the distant past. Now it might not be. * Personality: A contradictory sort; to those with her love and favour, Ashte is doting and affectionate, forgiving of their mistakes and willing to give them multiple chances. To her enemies, there is no quarter until their complete defeat; no mercy will be offered until an enemy is crushed beyond the point of being able to rise up again. To those who have neither her love nor her hate, Ashte is reserved and haughty, a proud goddess who expects to be deferred to and loved first. * Domain: Love and War. Of course, in the general sense this also makes her a goddess of fertility and beauty and organisation and such things; as a goddess so closely tied to mortal concepts, she enjoys the fuzziness of the boundary regions between domains. * Abilities: In the old days, Ashte was a goddess who had nearly as many ways to face down her enemies as she did lovers. She could have perfect insight over a battlefield and relay orders with a precision and speed no mortal could hope to match, leading her troops in a perfect dance to confound enemies that would have thought them helpless. Her presence on the battlefield could be a rallying beacon to inspire ability and endeavours beyond normal limitations. Or she could show them all exactly how it was done, and take to the battlefield herself, with nothing more than martial ability and vast divine power. Or, often, all three at once; nothing makes a battle easier than waving a juicy but impregnable target in front of your enemies. In her current state, none of those remain, aside from some thoroughly mortal-achievable but superlative skill at arms. Instead, the remaining facet of Ashte's warlike skills is part of an ability that would allow her to be an army: conjuring and reshaping a scant pair of weapons to hover close around her and fight autonomously, if she doesn't wish to wield one or both herself. Of course, these still have a spark of the divine about them--they cut far more things than normal steel would. As for the other aspect of her domain, she's still extremely pretty. Anything that would permanently interfere with that won't stick. She's quite annoyed at how... immutable her body is right now, however. Some people have particular interests that can't be satisfied this way! It really loses out on regal, divine presence, too, to be so... not huge. * Brief Backstory: Ashte's time as a major deity was rapacious and expansionist, inevitably coming into conflict with those surrounding her followers that refused to be swayed. Those that refused her love could only be treated as suspicion, as having ulterior motives--in such a volatile region, how could anyone that refused to ally or submit be anything but an enemy in waiting Of course, it's quite embarrassing--and obvious, in hindsight--that the real enemy would be someone only feigning adoration and abusing her good graces. Not that she's likely to be much more suspicious of her lovers this time...</s> <\|message\|>Moridax, Lord of the Underworld Moridax, Lord of the Underworld --- Screaming. Agony. Oh, well, that might have been the last thing she heard as she worked on paperwork in the Underworld and then... Nothing. Silence... And then, a long time later... Talking? Where? No, she couldn't touch anything. Rather, she felt rather... Disembodied. She wondered to herself, why? Her vision felt... Hazy. Eyes weren't something she was use to having for a long while. When was the last time she took a form that had eyes? Hundreds of years? Thousands? Still, she must force her vision to come. The voices that was near her spoke many things but she had difficulty discerning what they were actually saying. A small bit of her vision was coming to her now. In fact, it seemed her sense were coming more to her. Then, there was bashing on a door and.... Then fighting. Soon, she could move her body. Or, perhaps... A Spiritual Body? As her vision came to, she noticed that her body wasn't the most corporeal thing. Moridax examined what she was. Her hands, or what would constitute as hands were skeletal looking... Rather pretty Phalanges at least. "I need a body." She confirmed to herself. If there was fighting going on, than perhaps there was a body she could use. "That way then." The spirit goddess said to herself as she floated towards the exit. The skeletal ghost was mostly transparent with a light cloudy haze around the outlines. Exiting the building, she took a look around. There were a number of people, living people at least. There was a greater number of corpses just laying around. One of these seemed to be in rather good condition. Well, not that the condition of the body mattered, but she'd rather her inherited clothing be in good condition. Or, perhaps, inherited armor. Regarless, the ghostly form of Moridax floated forward towards the corpse and inhabited it. Everyone nearby would notice as the body started to violently shake a few times and start to stand up on it's own. It made some minor, unworldly movements as it seemed a wave of struggle wracked the the body going out from the center of the body and the head to the limbs until it ended up standing on it's own. A small ooze started to leak from the bottom half of the armor and, somehow, left no mark on the armor as it fled away from the body a small bit. "Haaa. Stuff armor isn't my first choice of outfit." It was a voice that definitely didn't suit the figure that probably once inhabited the armor. "Helmets are stuffy. Can't have this." The figure got a grip on the helmet with both hands and removed it. Beneath was the head of a cute blonde hair girl with elfen ears and golden eyes. "Fwah! Much better." The armor was a little too big for her figure now... If the body had fit the armor previously than the thought of what that ooze might be was... "So many people died here. The paperwork for this must be obnoxious. Those poor skeletons in the administration..." She muttered to herself before paying attention to the others there now. There were a couple of faces she actually recognized. Gods. One particular goddess that liked to hang around the Underworld with her every now and then, "Oh! Is that Alasayana?" She questioned, looking at her and then look at the other gods and goddesses to see who she recognized. Truthfully, her look at the moment was completely different from what she had looked like in the past so it wouldn't be too surprising if no one recognized her.</s> <\|message\|>Alasayana, the Huntress Alasayana --- Flora, was her name then hm? "Flora...a quite a pretty name." Alasayana would idly comment, ignoring the protests of the man being tortured as well as Ashte being...Ashte. "Very well. Your punishment for waking me from a nap. I command thee to be my new servant, specifically my tail-" Before she could finish giving her judgement however, they were quite readily interrupted...by some sort of ghastly thing. Some demon or something was possessing a corpse! How absurd! Another trick of these impertinent fools? She had though they at least honorable, but this...! "Are they employing even demons or some sort of undead?" Alasayana would respond with a growl. She would tolerate no demon or creature of evil in her presence. Alasayana would ready her tails for another fight, narrowing her eyes at Mori, not recognizing her.</s> <\|message\|>O'Menus O'Menus --- O'Menus had lost interest in the manic death cry of the brain-addled soldier. For no reason in particular he actually allowed the mortal to finish, though he stared at him with indifference. He took quick note of certain words, factions, and apparent passions before pulling the white sword from the man's ankle. The soldier's blood fell away as if fleeing the surface. Again he glanced at this blade, feeling more and more impressed by it. He'd decided it was his now. Without another word to the soon-to-be-dead man, O'Menus strode away thinking that execution by fire would be too comical considering his dying words. Sweeping over the Gods hanging around the priestess, he noticed a skittering goop of green. It went from one stiff corpse to the next until finally the Feral Goddess spotted the graveyard guest. "Could be a Divine," he offered forward without mirth, tensing his hand around the pommel of the white sword. "Even still, this is becoming annoying." An agitated flame danced up his forearm, some shreds of strength blooming inside.</s> <\|message\|>Trineon Trineon Lord of Rivers, Lakes, and Oceans The young girl barely managed to say her name, Flora. A cute name for a cute girl, though it was a little on the nose if this girl was the Flower Priestess those soldiers had mentioned. But what her true identity didn't matter to Trineon as much as her welfare. Unlike O'Menus, Trineon had no interest in torturing the surviving soldier. However, the torture did seem to be working as the soldier regained consciousness before spouting a bunch of things. He dared to call Gods heretics? And we would burn for it? The vengeful side of Trineon, the side he tried to hide, came to focus. A scowl formed on Trineon's face as he stood up. Trineon remembered in that instance that one of the duty of the Gods was to punish wicked mortals. So he walked over to soldier, anger simmering just under his young visage. Before he could do anything, O'Menus pulled the blade out of the mortal's ankle. He made a pained sound as the blood began to pour out of his wound. Trineon was of the mind that they should let the soldier bleed out, a slow death for one who dared threaten the Gods. As Trineon turned away from the suffering mortal, out of the corner of his eye he saw one of the corpses begin to move. Trineon took a few steps backward, as goo dripped out of the body. Necromancy had always upset Trineon as he viewed it as going against nature, so the sight of the dead rising put him on edge. For a second Trineon wondered if there had been a necromancer among their attackers, but everyone who they had fought now laid on the ground. As Trineon looked at the floor, he saw a blade there. Picking it up, he raised it toward the moving corpse. What Trineon didn't expect was for the corpse to remove its helmet, revealing the face of a beautiful girl. This gave him pause, as did the fact that she recognized Alasayana. However there was no recognition in the Goddess's eyes as she asked the corpse what it was. Trineon gripped his blade tighter as he realized that it didn't matter what kind of creature it was. A walking corpse was a walking corpse. It needed to be defeated. "I don't know why you have risen from the dead, foul creature. But you are in the presence of Gods, Gods who will not abide an abomination," Trineon stated with resolve. With his blade still pointed at the corpse, Trineon began to walk toward it, his gaze like a razor blade slicing through the undead thing.</s> <\|message\|>Aureia Aureia, of gold, commerce, wealth,and the far less important, trivial aspects of travel and luck O'menus wasn't alone in losing interest in the injured soldier. If he didn't want to play ball with Aureia's interrogation, then he was all but useless. She listened to his words and absorbed the information she needed, yes, but she knew the words of a misguided fanatic when she heard one. Yes, letting him to bleed out on the ground would be a fitting death for a mortal that dared to challenge and belittle the gods. Finally, she could turn and lavish her attention on the waiting priestess, like the rest of her companions already had been. Except, before she could do so, yet another thing happened that precluded her attention. Standing up, like the other gods, a certain activity among the corpses of the dead mortals caught her eye. Messing with the dead was generally a taboo even among the gods, as already exemplified by the reactions from Alayasana and Trineon—O'Menus was just being as abrasive as ever, yet something about the energy she was feeling made Aureia think the god of the sun had the right of the matter. She frowned as one of the corpses began to rise, and then… talk. Yes, there was something strange about this being's energy. Familiar? Yes. Divine? Maybe. She gave the being a critical gaze before something clicked. "Eh, haven't I had tea with you before?"</s>	<\|message\|>Ashte Finally freeing the priestess to allow her to breathe--that was a pretty name, and Ashte had always been fond of a nice flower arrangement... fufufu. Of course, like everyone else, she was rather distracted by the dead person getting back up and becoming a... cute girl? Oh, that was nice! Not the getting back up part, as fun as that could be for a time, she much preferred that defeated enemies stayed that way... There was definitely something nigglingly familiar about her. Skeletons and administration...? Aureia talking about tea parties...? Ashte was, after all, quite a social figure, and someone who made sure a lot of people died had always had a good reason to maintain some sort of relationshpi with whoever took over after that point. Not that her response would probably help Trineon or Alasayana work it out: "Hey! You've been holding out on me, if you could look like this!" It seemed O'Menus was the only one paying attention to their fanatical captive.</s>
<\|description\|>Aureia Gender: Female Appearance: A bit short for a patron of such grand and intoxicating hallmarks of society, but if the consequence of being revived after ten thousand years of death is looking a bit cuter than she used to and having difficulty reaching top-shelf alcohol, then she'll take it while silently mourning her lost height. Her dark, simple hair gives her some measure of contrast against her golden eyes and often golden clothing; despite her capricious tendency to change clothing and style, they often seem to remain the same color. Personality: Luck and fortune can be a fickle thing, and so is the patron of such aspects. While her personality itself is stable, her opinions and preferences change day by day on a whim; those she favors as friends may be enemies the day after, and then friends again shortly after. It would also be no surprise, then, that the goddess of commerce and wealth is quite… greedy, and will look to her own self interests. All that glitters is indeed gold. Rumor has it that the touch of a god named after gold can indeed turn things into gold, such is her lust for wealth and treasure. Aureia is by no means a hostile or unforgiving god, though. At heart, she's a sweet, amiable person; whimsical and sometimes excitable sure, but playful nonetheless. She'll still stab you in the back with a smile, if it's to her benefit. After all, she is still the god of Commerce, perfidious Aureia. Domain: Commerce & Wealth, Traveling, and Luck Abilities: Fortune favors the bold, or so they say, and who better to dispense fortune than the plucky and bold goddess of wealth, luck, and traveling? Wherever she goes, and whoever she blesses, those around her will always find favorable circumstances and conditions, and fortune and luck are her personal sword and shield. Under her guidance, the seas are always calm and the winds fair as you sail the ocean blue; the forests amiable for your carriage to pass; the odds tilted in your balance in even the direst of battles; the art of business, ever given, and ever gentle. One can travel in many ways. One might, perhaps, travel by land, sea, or even air and beyond, using many multitudes of different vehicles available to mankind through the ages. It would be deeply remiss, then, for the goddess of traveling to be unfamiliar with any such means of travel. With her divine knowledge and skill, any means of transport—any vehicle—are not beyond her wisdom and ability to personally use or guide. Contracts are sacred, and agreements must be binding. Who better but to sanctify them than by the watchful eye of the godly patron of commerce & wealth? Her divine power binds any contract that she wishes to sanctify in such a way that they become sacred and inviolable, under penalty of swift and celestial retribution. At the peak of her power, her sacred intervention could easily push an impossible or even intangible contract into the realms of reality. Brief Backstory: Representing perhaps some of the most important facets in any organized society, Aureia was a well-known god. Once worshipped by kings and usurpers, merchants and scammers, and pilgrims and bandits alike, she was a goddess that was followed by many across the world's lands during her time. In times of great need, when a deal needed to be hammered out, or when one just wanted to travel to the next village over, she was there for the people. To her, it was a great game in the board of life that was the mortal world. With so many that prayed to her, so many conflicting wishes, how could but one goddess intervene in it all? No, as the god of luck, things must be arbitrary. With the flick of a wrist, she would determine the paths and fate of men, cities, even countries, on a whim... or with a sizeable enough offering. She was still the god of commerce, after all. Seeing nations grow was a drug; in a way, she could live vicariously through their wealth. It just would have been nice if she could have shepherded more civilizations before her demise.</s> <\|message\|>O'Menus Hexagonal Chamber - O'Menus The tiny itch in his brain, rather the jewel of his being had begun to subside with the hardening of his memories. The, what he felt was unnatural, widening of his eyes begun to narrow with apathy. With a loose sense of understanding that he forced to mean everything and nothing. The questions did not matter, though plenty were popping through the light haze of his mental. He glanced around at the room slowly, took in his surroundings. There were others with him; he cared for none of them. He inhaled deeply, searching for that preternatural organ he called his own, and felt a sliver of heat rise within. The alien wetness of his skin and hair dried in tails of gray smoke off his ebon-skin. The gold bands tight around his arms were olden, so he ripped them off with more effort than expected. That pulled a loud tsk' from him, 'Disgusting. What is this madness?' he snarled. Fortunately the loose, wide sash holding onto his dark airy trousers, were frayed but acceptable. His straw sandals however were disposable, so he slid out of them and continued up the stairs to the center of the room. There, at the middle of everything, he had come to discover was a pale girl, obviously ill and horrendously mortal, he presumed. Without a moments hesitation or thought, he strolled up to the prone girl, drew his foot back, and aimed to kick the poor thing awake. He hoped that his weakened strength could still break a few ribs. 'I demand answers!' he thought, the extent of his extreme displeasure appearing as a downward pull on his lips. "Wake up!" he growled.</s> <\|message\|>Lopolay The Clock of Eternity has already moved, but its overseer has returned to her post - Hexagonal Chamber The drowsiness of waking up from the sleep of eons would not be lost on this goddess whom had been around since the dawn of creation itself. The gaps in her memory concerned her immediately but what concerned her more was the location, The Time. The Place. She needed to get out to see the heavens to properly analyze how much time had passed. She couldn't focus unless she knew just how many seconds. She had counted within her dream, and that gave her some comfort. But if she was even off by 15 seconds. She would be upset. Paranoid and rather jumpy to everything around her. Thus she wished to correct herself. Her entire attention however was brought to bear when she noticed that this chamber was not for her. This was not one of her rare temples. This was not one of her scarce worshippers. More gods were present. She was not alone. That concerned her. She had felt a great deal of her power had been taken from her. Lost into the ethers of time. She could claw it back. But it would take far more effort then she would like. She did however had enough power left to deal with a potential travesty. The energy within her body would pool upwards to the whirring gears of her eye. The Gears inside starting to shift and whir, as everything around her started to appear slower. She had not changed the time of her environment. Only her own Time. As she would step forward as the kick would be moving forwards towards the collapsed girls ribs. She would move forwards. She didn't have much strength, Nor did she know the girls circumstance. But she was alive again. She wasn't about to let one of her more anger prone brethen kill their benefactor now. Was she? She would fall in front of the kick. it was the most she could do. She couldn't push the girl out of the way in time afterall. And any injury she herself would sustain wouldn't last... She would effectively use her own body as a punching bag for the anger of another of her kin. She had her thoughts. She had her questions. But she was motivated by the fact that breaking the girl would not save them any time.</s> <\|message\|>Alasayana, the Huntress Alasayana The hunt begins again - Unknown room --- Really, maybe she would have preferred to stay dreaming...yet all the same, consciousnesses would soon flow into her mind once more. A voice, calling for help. At one point, the cries of someone asking for help would be all she needed to assist someone, so long as it was a heartfelt, truthful plea, she would never turn down someone. Even now...who would she be if she didn't accept. She didn't know these things of course, as in the moment she remembered nothing as she floated there in that cool wet, embrace. So she would find herself standing in this hexagonal room, the ceiling seeming quite high to one of her stature, but that was less important than everything, and everyone else in the room. Inscriptions. Ancient, from the look of them. Rings upon rings steadily becoming larger as they extended outwards. Whatever did they mean? Hm, she was no scholar but she couldn't help but to be curious. But...who exactly even was- "Mhm..." Memories. A desert. Warm and inviting. Harsh and unforgiving. A jungle. Wet, muggy, and filled with so many beautiful plants. A number of faceless people. Beasts hunted, large and formidable in stature. Corrupt humans, muderous or wishing harm upon the innocent. Criminals, hunting and giving judgement from divine. Try as she might search her memories, however brief she did so, she had no idea how she got here, within this room. Annoying, really. Did some other deity pull her here somehow? She didn't feel anything evil or worthy of - In fact, she felt...rather weak, come to think of it. Well this was disturbing. Did some trickster god steal her strength? Sap her of her divine power? Hm. She was busy thinking, she didn't entirely see the fool attacking what was likely the only person that could give them answers. If it was her old self, she could have just jumped in and handled it herself, but it seemed as though another had that covered already, so she would take a more defensive posture. "Hmph..." Alasayana would approach the sleeping girl as that weird looking one would block the blow from the irritable looking man. Sleeping on the cold hard ground like this could not be comfortable, nor good for ones health...so instead she'd give her what was obviously going to be the best bed of her existence. The four furry tails that extended from her waist would wrap around the girl, gently enveloping her in a warm embrace. "I don't know you, but know this - I will not abide you or anyone else attacking an unarmed civilian. If you wish a hunt to sate bloodlust or anger, there are plenty of beasts out there I am sure." Ah, she felt so naked without her sword. Tsk tsk, and she couldn't feel anything about this place either...just what had happened?</s> <\|message\|>Ashte Ashte Ah, oblivion... strange dreams, dreams that seemed much less fleshy and visceral than anything that belonged in her head, but dreams nonetheless. And then they were taken away, replaced by damp and wet... like so many, the Goddess of Love would rather return to her befuddling dreams than deal with all the hassle of waking up, and sought to burrow into the cold floor some more. Eugh, so cold, so hard, so lacking in other bodies and life... Some form of instinct flared to life at the sound of violence, though, and as the girl was rising to a sitting and then standing position, an elaborate bronze weapon stabbed down into the floor before her. Nearly the height of a man, curved outwards, and with a sharpened axe-like blade, the oversized khopesh looked like great craftsmanship, even inlaid with mother of pearl and with a finely detailed handle of sandalwood... but it was just a creation of her memories. And distinctly less than the veritable battalion that Ashte now remembered responding to unpleasant interruptions with. Huh. Still, it was one weapon, so there was no harm in keeping it close at hand... her approach up to the platform was cautious, this unknown room was far from a palace or other civilised setting, so who knew what danger it presented? But... she couldn't help but relax on seeing what it was. One unconscious girl, and a bunch of gods that she knew, or at least knew of--one advantage, one supposed, to empire building was the many people you got to meet and that your subjects kept telling you about. "So... fancy meeting you here, huh?" Ashte asked the others, reaching down to pick up the time goddess and plant her back on her feet. Nobody seemed too much of a threat, but the sword was still there... and besides, there were better things to start thinking about. Four cute girls, a cute guy, and one grumpy one who could maybe do the brooding archetype if he calmed down. She could work with this.</s>	<\|message\|>Aureia Aureia, of gold, commerce, wealth,and the far less important, trivial aspects of travel and luck It was a strange feeling, to exist, to think again after an eternity of ten thousand years. Already, the dreams of millennia past began to fade, if they could even be described as such. Perhaps, after all this time, others might have wished to return to the illusion of comfort in oblivion, but the Goddess of Wealth, the embodiment of the mortal coil of materialism, would accept nothing less than the bite of reality. Reality, it seemed, was harsh as usual. To blink back into existence was one thing, but to blink open into the unknown was disconcerting, even for a god. The room before her was an unknown; to stand before the unknown without the empires of fortune that followed her was... not fun. And was it her, or was she smaller than before? Nonetheless, she found herself standing, anchored, she realized, to some degree of comfort and familiarity. Familiar gods—and familiar things, as she examined the golden umbrella in her hands, and the matching robes that she wore. But of the six others in the chamber, one was mortal. A follower? A devout? Answers would be nice, but there were certain ways to go about getting them. Kicks and punches were just bad business. "Oh, it's the God of the Sun. It's probably been a while, huh? Eheh, I see how well you value our past relationship by how you treat my namesake," she gestured to his trashed bracelets, the goddess of wealth half-tempted to fetch them for herself. "Eh, I'm getting ahead of myself. Please don't kick the poor girl while she's down, she may be the reason for our return, or, even our only remaining anchor to this world." She shared in the frustration of not knowing anything at the moment, but with how weak she felt compared to how she once was, she couldn't help but to feel the smallest disruption, the tiniest blip, would scatter them all to the winds once more. Aureia would have moved to intervene, had her fellow goddesses not done so before her. She nodded at the goddess of the Hunt and then the one of Love, but raised an eyebrow at the goddess of Eternity. What? She had spent an eternity condemned to dreams, after all. Don't blame her for being a little suspicious. "Yeah, long time no see, huh. Ah, don't suppose any of you girls come here often?"</s>
<\|description\|>Aureia Gender: Female Appearance: A bit short for a patron of such grand and intoxicating hallmarks of society, but if the consequence of being revived after ten thousand years of death is looking a bit cuter than she used to and having difficulty reaching top-shelf alcohol, then she'll take it while silently mourning her lost height. Her dark, simple hair gives her some measure of contrast against her golden eyes and often golden clothing; despite her capricious tendency to change clothing and style, they often seem to remain the same color. Personality: Luck and fortune can be a fickle thing, and so is the patron of such aspects. While her personality itself is stable, her opinions and preferences change day by day on a whim; those she favors as friends may be enemies the day after, and then friends again shortly after. It would also be no surprise, then, that the goddess of commerce and wealth is quite… greedy, and will look to her own self interests. All that glitters is indeed gold. Rumor has it that the touch of a god named after gold can indeed turn things into gold, such is her lust for wealth and treasure. Aureia is by no means a hostile or unforgiving god, though. At heart, she's a sweet, amiable person; whimsical and sometimes excitable sure, but playful nonetheless. She'll still stab you in the back with a smile, if it's to her benefit. After all, she is still the god of Commerce, perfidious Aureia. Domain: Commerce & Wealth, Traveling, and Luck Abilities: Fortune favors the bold, or so they say, and who better to dispense fortune than the plucky and bold goddess of wealth, luck, and traveling? Wherever she goes, and whoever she blesses, those around her will always find favorable circumstances and conditions, and fortune and luck are her personal sword and shield. Under her guidance, the seas are always calm and the winds fair as you sail the ocean blue; the forests amiable for your carriage to pass; the odds tilted in your balance in even the direst of battles; the art of business, ever given, and ever gentle. One can travel in many ways. One might, perhaps, travel by land, sea, or even air and beyond, using many multitudes of different vehicles available to mankind through the ages. It would be deeply remiss, then, for the goddess of traveling to be unfamiliar with any such means of travel. With her divine knowledge and skill, any means of transport—any vehicle—are not beyond her wisdom and ability to personally use or guide. Contracts are sacred, and agreements must be binding. Who better but to sanctify them than by the watchful eye of the godly patron of commerce & wealth? Her divine power binds any contract that she wishes to sanctify in such a way that they become sacred and inviolable, under penalty of swift and celestial retribution. At the peak of her power, her sacred intervention could easily push an impossible or even intangible contract into the realms of reality. Brief Backstory: Representing perhaps some of the most important facets in any organized society, Aureia was a well-known god. Once worshipped by kings and usurpers, merchants and scammers, and pilgrims and bandits alike, she was a goddess that was followed by many across the world's lands during her time. In times of great need, when a deal needed to be hammered out, or when one just wanted to travel to the next village over, she was there for the people. To her, it was a great game in the board of life that was the mortal world. With so many that prayed to her, so many conflicting wishes, how could but one goddess intervene in it all? No, as the god of luck, things must be arbitrary. With the flick of a wrist, she would determine the paths and fate of men, cities, even countries, on a whim... or with a sizeable enough offering. She was still the god of commerce, after all. Seeing nations grow was a drug; in a way, she could live vicariously through their wealth. It just would have been nice if she could have shepherded more civilizations before her demise.</s> <\|message\|>O'Menus Hexagonal Chamber - O'Menus The scene before him was of a different kind than he was use to. The viscera, strewn about organs and splattering of blood, the desperate death-prone bodies; most gripping or squeezing onto their last vestiges of mortality was typically ashes where he dispensed his ordinance. A particularly damaged warrior, filled with puncture holes and stabbed by swords, held his cold gaze the longest. 'Useless specks, even killing is a messy deed for them... Though that weapon looks valuable.' He fixed his eyes onto the stupidest of the armored-mortals, the one so idiotically bold or misled that he presumed to speak to Gods of divinity. That roused the core of his being, the heat that permeated his entirety, to attention. For a moment, he could remember what his original strength felt like, it allowed him to pull the vestiges together. To rally his now meager strength to its fullness. The sudden roar, or rather the luminance and birth of his flames pushed, Aureia's proposal into a death-sentence. The harsh light bloomed over the darkness for just a moment. The mortals didn't deserve his emotions; the scene that laid before him, before all the Gods, had decided they were ready to die. Apathetically, he considered them, wary of their tubular weapons. The flames that spewed from him gathered around his right forearm, a barren kite shield of hard-fire forming into existence. "There will be no surrender. They have threatened Gods... their fates will be death," he spoke aloud. He hoisted together all his Godly might and sprinted into action. Forming the shield, coupled with his show of strength was draining. He needed a weapon so he snatched the white blade from the dead warrior nearby and rushed towards the army. He assumed those puncture holes were made from those tubular sticks they were aiming at them. He covered his torso with the shield and ran straight for the horned-headed mortal, sword held at his side, ready for an exterminating decapitation.</s> <\|message\|>Alasayana, the Huntress Alasayana The hunt begins again --- As she ascended the stairs, the Huntress began pondering the ways she should be greeting the mortals. She didn't wish to scare them, or hurt them - more than once her prodigious strength caused some accidents when she wasn't paying attention. But she was a Goddess, she couldn't casually simply go around saying hello to mortals. There was a proper procedure to these things...hm, loud but friendly introduction? Make them give her an offering of fruit? Maybe ask one to take care of her divine tails. They probably haven't been properly maintained in so long. She could already hear them complaining. Or maybe she should thank them for waking her- Perhaps she had been too optimistic. The chamber they exited from held little interest to her. Its construction was curious, to be sure, but she doubted she'd glean anything from it all things considered. So she would step into the welcoming outside air, gazing over the stony expanse, a far cry from the warm sands and colorful jungles she was used too. The forest far below seemed welcoming, but alas - it seemed she may need to perform her duties as a hunter of evil before she could immerse herself in the luxuries of such a welcoming sight. Two dozen. Maybe a handful of more. Instead of keeping her tails close to her to appear as non-threatening as possible, she'd quickly change her tune the moment the carnage before her became apparent. The four appendages would extend outwards, gazing in all directions as to not let a single human here go unnoticed, not even the dead. A single large humanoid...metal construct? Of some sort lay slain...and near the door to them, was a man. Unmoving, also deceased. It was easy to guess what had happened here. A protector, slain by these before her. So, these people were after this priestess, and likely had far less noble intentions. "I see." Alasayana would inhale. Fury of the righteous sort would begin beating within. "I shall remember your face, warrior, and those stalwart eyes of yours. You did well. Please, rest. I will handle everything else." An exhale as she would offer a small comfort to the already deceased soldiers spirit as she would turn towards the Goddess of Commerce. "Save your breath, Auriea. As much as I loathe to agree with the Sun, I doubt they will listen...and I can not let their apparent transgressions go." With O'Menus taking the golden blade belonging to the warrior, Alasayana would opt for the best weapon she would know how to wield. "If they wish to become prey for challenging the Gods and our apparent benefactors, then so be it. Lopaley protect the priestess." She would turn her attention to the mob before them. Her tails would writhe behind her, the once passive faces upon them snarling, glaring at the red clad soldiers gathered. She would stand before them as O'Menus would begin his rush to their apparent leader. Even if she could no longer sense evil, hostility, lies and the sort of things that bred and fostered evil...she needn't such senses to determine what those before her were - and as a Goddess, she could not be wrong in her judgements. "Know this, mortals! I am Alasayana the Goddess of Hunt and she who judges the guilty and consigns their souls to oblivion!" The Goddess would open her eyes, divine fury burning within. "Stand before me and accept your fate, or Flee! It will not matter. Not a single one of you will leave here alive for your sins!" And thus, her judgement had been given. Guilty. For the first time in a millennia, the Goddess of the hunt, would do so once more. While O'menus would rush towards the apparent leader, she would rush towards the assembled troops. Black, bestial maws each going for a different soldier as they would rip and tear, drag and slam them against the ground or other soldiers as she would rush into the fray.</s> <\|message\|>Ashte Ashte ... was it really okay to let these two make first impressions? Maybe she and Aureia should run ahead of everyone else next time? Not that Ashte had anything against fighting--that would be completely ridiculous--but there was more to winning a war than killing everything that stood in your path. Knowing thy enemy, for instance, which was really not helped if you murdered everyone that even looked at you funny. Right now, she didn't feel like they could take on an entire army either. Well, the choice was out of her hands and at least this spared her the need to engage in making some overly flower declaration. That was something the white-haired goddess had never been too good at. Pillow talk? Rousing speeches? Those were fine but just... acting pompous on demand with no purpose to it? Where was the fun in that? It was a fortunate time to discover that her instincts were still working, her second shield forming as one of the red-clad soldiers pointed his tubular stick at her, the projectile embedding into the holy metal with a resounding clang. That was... unpleasantly close, she would have to pay more attention to fighting mortals until her power was back up to spec. And pay attention to this one she did, darting up to this one outside of the rampaging huntress's path, a cheerful smile on her face as her arms snapped into place around his. Twist, and... Oh, this was an interesting weapon, wasn't it? Ah, if she had enough of them, and faithful soldiers... the tactics that she could pull off with perfect battlefield awareness and a ranged implement such as this. It wouldn't be as fun or exciting as a pitched battlefield but being able to eliminate specific targets in the dead of night... She slammed the butt off the weapon into the disoriented soldier a few more times, knocking him to the ground. At least that way, they'd have someone to interrogate afterwards. Then, shields ready to intercept if anyone looked in her direction, Ashte scanned the battlefield... ah, that one had an even bigger tube? Best stop him first. One, two... their armour was unsurprisingly resilient to their own weapons, but it seemed multiple shots in the same spot could still go through. If you could do it. If the weapons had changed this much, how had warfare? Oh, this would be exciting.</s>	<\|message\|>Aureia Aureia, of gold, commerce, wealth,and the far less important, trivial aspects of travel and luck Ah, there it was, the response from the two gods she anticipated. With the obvious displeasure the god of the sun had been nursing going into this engagement, Aureia would have expected no quarter from O'Menus after even the slightest of slights, let alone the blasphemy the arrogant mortal had levied to their faces. The sun god had been grating on her ever since their awakening with his own arrogance, but she wouldn't interfere with his justifiable bloodlust, especially when the goddess of judgement jumped into the fray and did her thing. Aureia's little proposal had always been nothing more but polite theater. "Ahaha… well, the god of the sun and the goddess of judgment have spoken. Offer's canceled," she shrugged, as the two gods jumped forward from her flanks. The innocent smile on her face hardened. Not to be left out of the inevitable melee, with some panache, she gave her umbrella-turned-weapon a twirl, shooting forward into the fray. She was just in time to fight alongside Ashte, it seemed. However, her annoyance flared up when she realized the sun god snatched up the fallen knight's blade. It was shiny and looked expensive, she wanted that for herself, dammit! Clicking her tongue, she took out her anger on the nearest soldier. Following the goddess of war's example, she shielded herself from the projectiles of the future-weapons as they came. Snapping open her parasol, the divine fabric ate up the strange arrows before Aureia snapped it back, slashing with it like a sword to cut into the man. She then moved to accompany Alasayana in her judgment against the remaining peons. It was never Aureia's style to directly punish mortals. After all, war was bad for business. Yet war was also good for business.</s>
<\|description\|>Henry "Harry" Koning ♔ Henry Koning ♚ Age: 22 Appearance: Hair looks like actor's picture Height: 5'8 Weight: 164 lbs Likes: • Chess • Puzzle games • Watching sports, especially football + baseball • Travelling • A healthy work life balance Dislikes: • Impatience • Unnecessary mistakes • Addictive substances • Improper/Unsportsmanlike behavior Zodiac Sign: Pisces (He doesn't believe in this) Special Talent: Chess: Being co-champion in the US Championship, and positive performance in international tournaments, Henry's chess talent cannot be dismissed. This translate to a variety of more general skills like memorization, visualization, pattern recognition as well as maintaining calmness in most situations. Profession: Titled chess player. Chess coach at Delta Chess Club. Undergraduate Computer Science and Mathematics at Delta University. Personality: Generally a pretty chill person, Henry does not get angry quickly, nor does he express his emotions in outbursts, though he does tend to let out how he feels in a calm yet blunt way. In normal times, he tends to be pretty laid-back, and thanks to the money he raked from tournaments, chess coach and events, he could afford to enjoy the spectacles of life that he misses when he's focused on competitive chess, learn new things that he doesn't get to learn often. Without him stating it, or the sight of him playing in clubs/universities/on the streets with random people, you'd never guess he's a professional chess player. Nonetheless, Henry is still a very competitive person at his core. He treats every loss seriously and every mistake he makes both in chess and in real life critically, while victories are well-deserved and something to be proud of. He does not have any qualm to tolerate crap when it comes to the things he love, and he's more than willing to shove them back at the offenders in his trademark brutal honesty. Bio: Henry was born in 1966 in Florida to a family of Dutch refugees to the United States due to World War 2. His mother, Alida, had rough times trying to get by in the new living environment, and by the time of Henry's birth, she was homeless, separated (and later divorced) from her husband, and was forced to live in a van, shuttled to do different jobs to feed herself and Henry. Young Henry did not have formal elementary education, but to him it was his mother's van, where she taught him basic subjects like math, English, etc. When he was old enough to go to middle school, however, Alida had found a stable enough job and settled in a cheap run-down apartment, and he enrolled in the local Floridian middle school, where he discovered his future career as a chess player. The chess genius Bobby Fischer who singlehandedly beaten the Soviet chess machine and dethroned Boris Spassky in 1972 inspired a wave of chess popularities in schools across the United States, including Henry's middle school with a small but cozy group of friends and teachers with interests in the game. There, Henry began to display his aptitude for the game, defeating all his peers easily after a few weeks of learning. One of the teachers then introduced him to a chess simul in Texas with a chess master and former national champion. Henry played and held his positions for over 40 moves, drawing crowds of onlookers, before being beaten. His performance, however, got people's attention, and he was introduced to attend the Florida Chess Club where he was coached properly by chess professionals. He gradually developed a solid and conservative playstyle that is difficult to crack open but often leads to draw positions. Attending a Florida high school, Henry won two state championship in 1980 and 1981. His first brush with the US champion came in 1982, where the intimidation of going on the big league led to a less than stellar performance. By the time of his high school graduation, he surpassed the FIDE rating of 2300. In the same year, he redeemed his previous year's performance by becoming the US co-champion, losing only to the previous year's candidate. After high school, Henry hesitated on going further into college and instead spent his next few years trying to improve his and his mother's living conditions. They moved to Delta City, and using his chess talent and riding on what's left of the chess boom left from Fischer's time, Henry coached young chess players as well as participating in chess events in multiple states for money. During this time, he also participated in multiple international chess tournaments, including one in Paris and in Latvia, finishing 9th and 4th place respectively. All these efforts secured him a fairly stable middleclass lifestyle at Delta. Recent History: After earning 2 norms for his performance in Paris and Latvia, Henry decided to wait a bit before going for his third norm, thus securing his International Master title. He wanted to settle down, enjoy life a bit since turning his life around and finish his university education. He's currently 2nd year undergraduate in Computer Science, minor Mathematics at Delta University. Actor or Actress/Public Figure who would play your Character in a movie: Tell us about yourself: Your age: 21 What part of the world are you from? International Student from Vietnam to Vancouver Canada How many years have you been writing/roleplaying? Since 2017 so 4 years How often do you have time to post? If I push for it, once a day. I will sit a lot on public transit and does allow some time to just sit there and craft a post. *Anything else you want to mention? What you do for a living? How much do you work a week? What do you enjoy doing besides writing? Put as much as you want. I just got internship as an IT Technician, and will be working 40 hours a week. I also do game supertest for the game World of Warships. I like to play chess casually and also take a long walk in the park (more like forest) near my house. "These are the things that make a good story great and good writers even greater." 3.5</s> <\|message\|>Genevieve James aka GiGi Blinking at Karina and tipping her head a little at the assumption that she'd serve them a dirty piece of flatware, GiGi hid her smile but her eyes sparkled. She tapped beside her lip not wanting to smear her lipstick. "Don't believe everything you see on TV sweets. I wouldn't work here if it wasn't clean. Orange juice and coffee coming right up ladies." GiGi smirked as she recalled the fan that was so eager to have the girl's autograph. It had been hard not to stare intently at Sena after reading the little message. She mentally shrugged as she walked over to get the drinks for the girls. The man sitting muttered something about a quiet morning. "Not a chance, guapo. Lo siento, that's not on the menu around here. What can I get you?" Nevaeh popped a hip out eyes running over the pretty boy. Cutting her eyes back to the girls GiGi made sure that no one was mobbing them. Where are their bodyguards? She quickly got the orange juice and coffee with a small chilled container of cream, just in case it was needed. Walking past Nevaeh and caught a quick glance at the babe at the table who was likely soon to be drooled over by Nevaeh, maybe herself. It was a big maybe. He had a nice bod and killer eyes but that didn't mean he could move. GiGi liked being picky. She wasn't picky about much but a guy had to check all her boxes or he didn't get past the friend zone. Lifting an eyebrow at Nevaeh and gliding over to her table GiGi set down the drinks in front of the ladies. "You ladies need a few minutes more or are you ready now?" @PrinceAlexus</s> <\|message\|>Isabella Daphne Belle "Bella" Isabella Daphne Belle location = Sushi Place (Team Sushi) Isabella left the study building, winding her way through the brightly lit lobby and its various shaded walkways that linked to other parts of the technology campus at Delta University. It was one of most modern and newest areas as a large plaque proclaimed the man who donated the land and money for its construction. Least rich person using money for a mostly good cause. Henry was an interesting character though he might need the patience of a few hundred saints if he thought she might learn to play chess at a more complicated level than a beginner. She could make a computer think, react and even learn from mistakes and adapt its own probability calculations just not play the game personally very well. The project seemed to have a lot of potential and Professor Jones, while somewhat wizzardy would never put her into a bad situation that did not benefit her and and PHD work. Henry could be interesting to get to know, rather... Carefully chosen in his words and actions potentially but he seemed polite and raised no red flags. Reaching her little suzuki samurai it was a fairly short drive to the sushi place. Just the lunch time traffic was rather busy and finding a place to park was somewhat more challenging nervously parallel parking on a street close by. "Come on... Only once more." finally getting into line on the 6th try easing off the clutch that all the city driving had been heavier on. Glancing in the mirror before leaving with a quick touch up on lipstick, Isabella liked to look least presentable and dress nicely as first impressions counted for alot and never know who you bump into. Chucking some coins in the meter before heading to sushi place, not the only person to decide it was qn favourite for lunch. A taller more pale looking man was eating inside with a camera and various additional kit with him. Another customer seemed to match his extra eye with a missing eye and black eye patch though the pirate look ended their well dressed sharp outfit and was unlikely to raid and rip bodices of duchess's in steamy ship board forbidden romances. Both were about her height so maybe people were just taller here and fit in rather well. "Number 1, 12, 17, extra rice... Oh and one of those please" Finding a Japanese probably not imported drink by the front counter placing her order with a harried and flustered looking young man who may be fairly new. "Of..of course miss, Chef is preparing a fresh salmon batch so your order be around 10-15 minutes." The teanager? Maybe finding some more confidence. "I can wait. Thank You." Directed to a table and ending up near the photographer and the city's smartest dressed pirate. It certainly was a strange gathering through the city... Well not shy about being different, the man with a camera was more in his own world like she got when working on a problem. Finding her note book in hand bag, Isabella started doodling out an idea she had in the car heading over, rolling the fountain pen between her fingers trying to make sense of it. Careful not to drip ink on the table or her dress, ever try getting ink out... Its painful. Her best ideas always came at strangest moments taking a drink from. Whatever Japanese drink it was choosing it based on the berries on label. Rather nice in fact for a random choice made on a label and what looked interesting. "Oops... Sorry. Got caught up in my work." Accidently tapping one of them while picking up a dropped coloured pen she was using to sort and link her ideas together while waiting for lunch. Mentions</s>	<\|message\|>Henry "Harry" Koning ♔ Henry Koning ♚ Morning - Delta University -> Shogun Sushi --- "That's a good one. I certainly wouldn't mind some good sashimi." As someone with a bit of international travel, Henry knew quite a bit about other cultures and lifestyle. While he never had that opportunity to visit Japan, their culture wasn't exactly unpopular in the countries that he visited during his tournaments. If anything, he would not deny that their food, for some inexplicable reason, was always filling regardless of how small the portion looked like. His only guess was that it was so compacted with nutrients that it was so, unlike the fat-saturated American fast food. As for Isabella, well there's not a lot to be particularly impressed or unimpressed yet. If anything she looked, or tried to look, more like a Broadway actress rather than an AI grad student. It was pretty, but it was a bit flashy. It might be because he grew up in a world full of often overly-serious people in front of a plastic board and wooden figures that Henry favored something more conservative. But hey, at least she wasn't that obsessive type only focused on whatever is in front of them. Perhaps she could teach him a bit about how to dance. Regardless, Henry followed the girl on his own drive to Shogun Sushi. The somewhat heavy traffic was a perfect opportunity for the man to revisit some of his old games in his head. It was a lot more about being bored from it that made a person go insane from being stuck, and Henry was never one to let his mind go inactive for even a second. As a result, it wasn't so bad for him, and hey, he'd get there when he gets there. Nevertheless, he decided to be strategic about his parking, as he took a different turn away from Shogun Sushi into a parking lot close to a mall a few blocks down and walked up to the Sushi Shop. It was a bit faster, and he didn't mind the little walk. Entering Shogun Sushi, Isabella had already arrived a bit before he did, along with many hungry customers just like him. Some having really...interesting appearances. "May I have the bento box please. Florida roll and salmon with the rice." He made his orders, and was then directed towards a table of his own, but he preferred to sit at Isabella's, since there were two chairs there and one was unused. "You two together?" But the small request did raise the eyebrow in the waiter directing him. Well, that wasn't completely unexpected. "Acquainted." He curtly shrugged, before turning over to Isabella. "If you don't mind."</s>
<\|description\|>Masashi Yamada "Sorry, if I needed help from commoners like you it would be to empty my trash bin." --- --- Masashi is a fair-skinned, 21 year old man. He stands at 5'10", with jet black hair and crimson eyes. He often wears various black suits, usually with red or white variations. This is mostly to keep up appearances wherever he goes. When he can afford to not expect as much attention, he will sport a more simple and comfortable approach of black shorts with a white t shirt. Secretly he enjoys wearing pajamas within the comfort of his home. When he transforms, Masashi wears a mostly black suit and tie with gold trimmings, along with lightly armored pauldrons, Light knee plates, black gloves, a shoulder cape, fedora, and face mask --- Personality Masashi is incredibly prideful and flashy. He enjoys having the limelight, and is more then willing to save those innocent peasants for the image it gives him alone. Unsurprisingly shallow and arrogant. He enjoys taunting foes and rivals, believing himself to be superior to most, and deserving of the powers he was given more than anyone else. Due to his overconfidence, he isn't easily provoked until one starts to prove that his overconfidence is misplaced. He loses his cool façade when he realizes he doesn't have the edge he thought he had and will start getting more desperate and aggressive. His inner hobby as a wanna-be actor tends to let him be overdramatic at times. --- Background Masashi was raised in a strict but wealthy household. Growing up, his parents did little more then encourage an insecurity upon his self worth. At first, this made him a meek and quiet kid. But there was a turning point in his later teens when he had one last fight with his parents. He left on his own, given a generous sum of money as a form of 'take it and leave' from his father, and lost all communications with his immediate family. He was desperate to spite his parents, prove he wasn't a deadbeat, and tried to make a name for himself. His pursuits as an actor didn't get very far, and at his lowest point, that was when Hades contacted him, and made him a deal. Masashi had thought he'd won the lottery, power and fame. What more could a man like him want? All he had to do was to keep this territory safe, and spread Hade's name. Taking his image seriously, he quickly grew to see others territory owners as his immediate rivals. --- Patron: Hades, lord of the underworld. Patron Tool: Ring of shadows. A silver ring with an onyx gem encrusted on it. He usually wears the ring on his right index finger. Patron Aspect: Shadow Manipulation --- Aspect Magic Dark energy is pulled from his shadow towards his ring, which can manifest in various forms. The shadows weaved can take on various properties, such as a flowing liquid, dark lightning, black explosions and fire, or a solid plexiglass-like mass. While initially he can only generate shadows around his ring, he can create a liquid-like surface of shadows to expand his range of creation, typically in the fashion of of a circle beneath his feet, or a mass above him like a cloud. Creating an expanded mass requires a building up time and continued connection to maintain, along with a lot of energy to maintain. He can attempt to 'mimic' attacks, or rather copy the form of said attacks by shadow manifestation. Such as someone's fire wave with a black fire wave, granted this 'copycat' strategy is solely based on his shadow manifestation ability. He's still limited to his own power, and can't create something that his shadows can't do, or mimic some conceptual or status effect. The strength of his ability to create shadows is strongest at dusk and dawn. During the day between is at its weakest, and the night between is strong but not as much as dusk and dawn. Light-based abilities and magic can 'petrify' his shadows to some extent, limiting his ability. The general range of his creation is limited to the ring's general surroundings, though he can expend energy to create a shadow mass to further his range. One of his favored techniques is creating a katana that he dubs 'the Umbral Blade.' The arm that the ring is worn on can be transformed into various shadowy-shapes. His primary tactics in this regard is a stretching/retracting serpent, a shadow-made minigun arm cannon, or a claw. He can disperse into his own shadow to move around quickly, though the moving shadow can be hit with an attack to force him out of it. He can substitute an attack with a shadow clone, but can only perform this once every night. --- Other skills Acting (Supposedly), and Video-games (Though he's ashamed of letting anyone know that he's really just a nerd).</s> <\|message\|>Shimizu Atheni --- Had it not been for the strange appearance of the gate on the frozen bay, the magical girl of the sea would probably be enjoying what snow there was on her way to work. Alas, it would seem fate had other plans for. Atheni texted her supervisor just a bit earlier in the morning, claiming she was feeling ill from the sudden cold weather. Somehow, it didn't seem like the man in charge took her seriously, which was strange because she made sure to include mistakes like she was too sick to even type on her phone. Oh well, it doesn't matter, right? This gate needed to be investigated. It was located close to a territory she remember was unprotected by any specific person. Will there be others looking into this strange appearance? That would be fun. If anything bad happens, it's her duty to make sure all is good and safe. For after all, she is the God of the Seas' incarnation! Even overlapping on another territory, the bay should be under her protection, for her command over water should make her the ruler of any bodies of water. Atheni's home wasn't too far from the river, which was a fortunate blessing considering how much she relied on it for transport. Even frozen, it still remains water. Eyes would recognize the magical girl standing next to the river by her out-of-season beach-themed outfit. Early risers would cheer for her, some would try to call out to her, but all they would receive would be the wave of a hand before she was seen zooming across the surface of the river. She was standing on a thick platform of ice, propelled by a jet of water goin in the opposite direction. It did not take long for the inheritor of Poseidon's powers to find herself at the bay. Already, she could see monstrous entities pouring out of the gate, some were already this far as traveling on the frozen bay to go to other territories. She'd pick up the stragglers at least. Attention undivided to the youkai in front of her, Atheni pushed her platform to reach maximum speed. Trident in both ends, she basically bisected the monster when she rammed into it at full speed. It knocked her off the platform, but she was quick to brace herself by planting her golden weapon into the ice. Enraged, another youkai came charging at her. Silhouette of a black lion with bat wings, it jumped high and tried to crash into Atheni while she was recovering. The magical girl had already planned on her defenses for this one. A thick layer of ice erupted from the bay to form a wall between her and her attacker. Cracks formed into the wall from the heavy impact of the beast. Spikes erupted from the wall of to thoroughly impale the monster as Atheni slammed the butt of her trident into the wall. The third straggler on her way was easy picking. As soon as she saw it, she rose a hand towards it. People would take she's been shooting laser beams, but in reality the water around her shot into extremely high-pressurized streams to pierced the monster in various places. One last stream would have decapitated the monster entirely. That took care of a few stragglers. Three down, way more to go. Let's see if she can get close enough to the gate to crash this whole party into the sea floor. Should be no small feat, but definitely something that could be done to stop this. Atheni continued her march, heralding the fury of Poseidon with a vast array of ice sheets and water streams floating around her.</s> <\|message\|>Amélie Renard ♫𝄞 𝄪 Amélie Renard 𝄪 𝄞♫ Somewhere on one of Taito's ward building stood Amélie, her gaze turned towards the giant Tori Gate that had appeared on the waters. The building in question was a theatre which had housed Amélie's latest performance, which unfortunately was cut short between two pieces when she received bad news and had to leave in emergency. The popular piano player Miss Renard was well known, and so was the Magical protector of the ward but the young prodigy never intended to have both identities become one and the same. More so out of convenience than fear. Fame...was not something Amélie desired. Her musical career and dream led her to own some of it, but it was a byproduct of her chosen passion - not something she set out to obtain. Already changed into her Magical counterpart, Amélie slowly let herself fall forward from the building and began running down the wall until, in a long and graceful jump, she propelled herself to the next rooftop. Each of her steps was met with some ripple effect that also produced different musical notes that, somehow, fitted with one another into short but precise melodies. While she seemed to be able to launch herself great distances, when compared to a regular human, she still sometimes stepped on seemingly thin air. On these occasion, the ripple effect still appeared as some sort of platform, allowing her to gracefully skip through the air like a ballerina. It was not long before she had reached the area around the bay. As soon as she landed on a nearby rooftop, Amélie paused. Down on the water's edge she spotted one of her 'peers', so to speak. She seemed under attack, be plenty able to handle herself. Surely, more were on their ways. More interestingly, some Monsters seemed to have been faster than the rest and already passed the front liner and were reaching the streets. Down below, two Yokai found preys. They bore green, thick skin and messy hair as well as a shell on their back; Kappas. They had found human preys in the form of two children, whom they were now dragging towards the water where a third Kappa was trying to break the ice, or find an entry, to quite possibly drown their victims. A quick fall and a flip later, and two of the Kappas would look behind them as their companion could be heard letting out a loud screeching sound and fall the the ground. Or rather, it's headless body did. Landing, slashing, body to the ground and, finally, head to the ground~ All of these produced a musical note that ended in a crescendo when the head finished rolling near the two others, Amélie standing between them and the two children. The two monsters charged. Lunge, trust, jump, spin, trust, slash - the monsters died to some magical piano melody as their blood was wiped from Amélie's ebony blade, who was standing straight, regal. The woman turned to the two children, her long, white hair following her movement perfectly. "You are safe now. Take care and leave as far as you can for now, please." There was glory and fame to be had in being a magical girl, but there was also lives to save. Down here, in this remote street far away from cameras and views, Amélie had long since made her choice.</s>	<\|message\|>Masashi Yamada A star has arrived. There was a suddenly an explosion of black smoke along an unoccupied street. A black and purple pillar of shadows rose from the clearing smoke. The pillar had risen far above the surrounding buildings before its form extended a long flight of steps to the street, and a slightly more purple carpet of shadows materialized and rolled down the steps. With the remaining smoke clearing around where the steps stopped at, a figure emerged already taking the first step onto the stairs. A well dressed suit, gold trimmed, with armored pauldrons and a ring on one of his gloved hands. Masashi Yamada, the Fortunate Shadow, the self proclaimed prince of Arakawa. He had finally appeared on the scene, always one for his dramatic entrances. Due to the height of the stairs, he had them move and shuffle like an escalator to bring him to the top, stopping once he had reached the step below the top of his pillar. With a snap of his fingers and a stream of shadows from his ring, a throne formed itself out from the pillar's floor. Masashi had spent a great deal of practice to simulate a proper, comfortable seat made from his shadows. His real furniture at home were still more comfortable, but his current constructions was satisfactory nonetheless. Before he let himself sit, however, he turned to face the steps, to face the frozen bay and the gate of monsters. "Hmph! It seems it was a waste to come here after all! An easy task such as this is better suited for my personal servant!" Masashi explained with dramatic flair. He was always one to play character whenever he was 'on the job.' Always to try and put on a show. The height of his throne left room for long ranged support should that somehow be required, though he had no intention of actually getting his hands dirty if he could help it, but more importantly it was to ensure a bubble of personal space, a luxury that was rare when dealing with her. He raised his right towards the sky, facing the same direction upward as he began to shout. "I beseech the powers of lord Hades! From the deepest depths of the underworld, the infernal pits of Tartarus! Again I call upon a monster worthy to serve under my power! Come fourth, the Witch of Shadows, the Weaver of Night! Dispatch of these pests!" He chanted loudly, sounding like some kind of spell. His ring had glowed with black light while he had spoke. It something he had rehearsed and practiced unlike most of his abilities. In reality, the words had no purpose in the spell, it was just to draw attention to himself and to buy time. When he finished, the ring streamed a connection of shadows to an alleyway near where the steps he had summoned began. A predetermined spot he had planned with an accomplice. Another burst of smoke erupted through the streets from the desired point, this one lasting a bit longer to allow 'his servant' to get into position. The First few steps of the stairs had morphed completely within the smoke-formed shadows. Becoming something closer to a stage with steps on all three sides to the street. An archway standing at the center where the rug extended and continued to roll down the steps and off into the street to adjust the new structure. Two braziers simulating shadow-flames stood at either end of the front of this stage as the smoke started to clear. Before it fully cleared up, far above, Masashi had already taken his seat upon the throne with a devilish smirk.</s>
<\|description\|>Masashi Yamada "Sorry, if I needed help from commoners like you it would be to empty my trash bin." --- --- Masashi is a fair-skinned, 21 year old man. He stands at 5'10", with jet black hair and crimson eyes. He often wears various black suits, usually with red or white variations. This is mostly to keep up appearances wherever he goes. When he can afford to not expect as much attention, he will sport a more simple and comfortable approach of black shorts with a white t shirt. Secretly he enjoys wearing pajamas within the comfort of his home. When he transforms, Masashi wears a mostly black suit and tie with gold trimmings, along with lightly armored pauldrons, Light knee plates, black gloves, a shoulder cape, fedora, and face mask --- Personality Masashi is incredibly prideful and flashy. He enjoys having the limelight, and is more then willing to save those innocent peasants for the image it gives him alone. Unsurprisingly shallow and arrogant. He enjoys taunting foes and rivals, believing himself to be superior to most, and deserving of the powers he was given more than anyone else. Due to his overconfidence, he isn't easily provoked until one starts to prove that his overconfidence is misplaced. He loses his cool façade when he realizes he doesn't have the edge he thought he had and will start getting more desperate and aggressive. His inner hobby as a wanna-be actor tends to let him be overdramatic at times. --- Background Masashi was raised in a strict but wealthy household. Growing up, his parents did little more then encourage an insecurity upon his self worth. At first, this made him a meek and quiet kid. But there was a turning point in his later teens when he had one last fight with his parents. He left on his own, given a generous sum of money as a form of 'take it and leave' from his father, and lost all communications with his immediate family. He was desperate to spite his parents, prove he wasn't a deadbeat, and tried to make a name for himself. His pursuits as an actor didn't get very far, and at his lowest point, that was when Hades contacted him, and made him a deal. Masashi had thought he'd won the lottery, power and fame. What more could a man like him want? All he had to do was to keep this territory safe, and spread Hade's name. Taking his image seriously, he quickly grew to see others territory owners as his immediate rivals. --- Patron: Hades, lord of the underworld. Patron Tool: Ring of shadows. A silver ring with an onyx gem encrusted on it. He usually wears the ring on his right index finger. Patron Aspect: Shadow Manipulation --- Aspect Magic Dark energy is pulled from his shadow towards his ring, which can manifest in various forms. The shadows weaved can take on various properties, such as a flowing liquid, dark lightning, black explosions and fire, or a solid plexiglass-like mass. While initially he can only generate shadows around his ring, he can create a liquid-like surface of shadows to expand his range of creation, typically in the fashion of of a circle beneath his feet, or a mass above him like a cloud. Creating an expanded mass requires a building up time and continued connection to maintain, along with a lot of energy to maintain. He can attempt to 'mimic' attacks, or rather copy the form of said attacks by shadow manifestation. Such as someone's fire wave with a black fire wave, granted this 'copycat' strategy is solely based on his shadow manifestation ability. He's still limited to his own power, and can't create something that his shadows can't do, or mimic some conceptual or status effect. The strength of his ability to create shadows is strongest at dusk and dawn. During the day between is at its weakest, and the night between is strong but not as much as dusk and dawn. Light-based abilities and magic can 'petrify' his shadows to some extent, limiting his ability. The general range of his creation is limited to the ring's general surroundings, though he can expend energy to create a shadow mass to further his range. One of his favored techniques is creating a katana that he dubs 'the Umbral Blade.' The arm that the ring is worn on can be transformed into various shadowy-shapes. His primary tactics in this regard is a stretching/retracting serpent, a shadow-made minigun arm cannon, or a claw. He can disperse into his own shadow to move around quickly, though the moving shadow can be hit with an attack to force him out of it. He can substitute an attack with a shadow clone, but can only perform this once every night. --- Other skills Acting (Supposedly), and Video-games (Though he's ashamed of letting anyone know that he's really just a nerd).</s> <\|message\|>Shimizu Atheni --- Whew, at last it was over! Leaving it to the others was definitely a good choice. It had been dealt quite swiftly, Atheni thought. A burning hellfire that not even the water she can control would put out. Now that's a scary thought, although abated by the fact that this fire was created by a fellow magical protector of this city. The blue-haired magical girl could see the gate burning down by the corner of her vision, though she tried to not let it lost her focus. One mistake and she could be gravely injured, after all, for there still seemed to be a lot of youkais left behind the disappearance of where they came from. Atop her giant wall of ice, Atheni surveyed her surroundings. It would appear most of the remaining monsters were at the gate in their desperate attempt to save the gate. A few stragglers at best, and it seemed like there were other magical folk defending those who made it into the city, judging from corpses over there. A very satisfying outcome, if she could allow herself the pat on the back. Atheni shifted her focus on the remaining monsters. Surely they'd lash out in anger at the immediate threat, being the ship's magical crew in this instance. It would be best to help them dispatch the few remaining youkais, then take care of the bay itself. It was her duty to return it to normal, as the goddess of these waters! She slid down her wall of ice and towards the crater someone made a bit earlier when dropping from the sky. Atheni wondered if that person was alright, still in there? Maybe they needed assistance. Looking upon the monsters around the crater, it was a good guess to think those youkais were connected to the gate. It only made them easier to deal with. With a snap of her fingers, the monsters in her immediate vicinity found themselves rapidly encased in the ice underneath them, before silenced by thorns impaling them from their icy prisons. She wasn't one to give names to her techniques, as it became tedious to name each and every manner of manipulating water. This one however, she'd be proud to call it the "Hoarfrost Iron Maiden". It did sound kinda cool, but she wondered how well it would be to say it out loud. With the surrounding threat taken care of, Atheni slid down the small crater to meet the person at the bottom. "Hey, are you alright?" she called out, patching the crater to prevent it from leaking water inside. Couldn't allow them to drown in there, could she?</s> <\|message\|>Rim Mikagura RIM MIKAGURA Collab with @ERode --- Rim looked at the coat in his hands, putting it on immediately. He tied his cloth around to secure it too, just in case. "I... no. I'm alone. I don't need, um." How did he want to phrase this? "Is everything alright at the hospital?" Zen tilted her head to the side slightly, then nodded. "Yes, the hospital's safe. I was actually gonna head over there again after squaring this place out. Are you sure you don't want to come with? You're not wearing shoes..." And he had been running pretty hard. "The staff too? They're okay?" She tapped her fist against her heart. "Wouldn't be here if they weren't." He stared unnervingly long. Tightened his cloth. "Okay," he said. And more softly, "Thank you." With one last look at the hospital past the girl, he sprinted off with inhuman speed. Left in the dust of the sprinting man, Zen could only stare in silence. "..." She smacked her fist into her palm. "Oh, so it was him!"</s> <\|message\|>Amélie Renard ♫𝄞 𝄪 Amélie Renard 𝄪 𝄞♫ As the Yokais got closer and as Amélie had no answer from the biker magical girl, she feared for the worst. She could possibly hold her ground against the horde for sure, and even possibly get out - but not without the one she came here to help. And she couldn't turn her back to the Yokais to look for said magical girl when those same Yokai were ready to pounce on her. All in all, it was a possibly bad situation Amélie's desire to help put her in. Just as she was getting ready to jump at the enemy in an attempt to quell their numbers, she heard; "No, this what you tell them. Five words: Fuck around and find out." Rash words coming from an equally bold magical girl who litterally jumped into action. Her entrance sure was flashy, but the results of her action backed up her cockiness. She came down hard on the ice, an explosion of magic that pushed the nearest Yokais away. It might have affected Amélie too, but as she was about to jump away someone grabbed her waist and used some form of magic to create a protection for them. Looking at her would be saviour, Amélie was gladdened to see the biker girl alive and well. "Oh, well I actually came to offer assistance." Amélie said, lightly tapping out the remaining embers on Ryofu's charred vest. "I was not certain you'd..." but she was cut off just as soon as she was about to speak. "But I admire your guts, kid." In two quick sentences Ryofu managed to make it plainly clear not only how little they respected Amélie's potential combat ability, but also trusted in their own capabilities a lot. It painted a clear portrait of Ryofu's character, at least on the surface. Despite that, Amélie was neither angry nor hurt, as in the end everyone was safe and Ok. At least around her. She looked around them, ready to finish off remaining Yokais as the gates were now crumbling, but it seemed others already took care of it. Mainly, the water-controlling magical girl who's powers were impressive. Amélie took a step back and respectfully bowed slightly to Ryofu "Thank you for your own assistance just then." she said, before looking down towards where Ayumi fell as Atheni was erecting barriers around them. "We should see if that one is also alright." "Still...I wonder what that was all about. And did you see that hand as the gates crumbled?" she told Ryofu as Amélie herself headed down the crater towards Ayumi. She knew that Yokais did not need special agenda to cause trouble or attack, but to her this felt somewhat...different. Though she might be wrong.</s>	<\|message\|>Masashi Yamada Masashi's makeshift gun-arm ceased its fire upon on the yokai not long after the portal collapsed. It seemed like the crisis was over. It was certainly a crowded event, too much competition in one place. Masashi wasn't keen on how many showed up, a huge floating ship had appeared to steal his show, worse still was the rudeness of that biker for her rudeness, but at least the threat was dealt with. He thought he put on a good show, there was some satisfaction in that. The contract he made was worth it. Perhaps that was just wishful thinking. The umbramancer allowed the shadows to melt off his arm, vanishing in rapid black droplets. His ears recognized the sounds of that devil's heels, turning his head just as she began to address him. He felt her eyes focused for a moment on the symbol on his neck, the mark of their pact. Masashi kept a professional and cold attitude as always, but for once he felt perhaps the tiniest of concerns; that perhaps he shouldn't treat these dealings with her so lightly. Still, what price was there to pay to keep himself in the spotlight? With all these pesky competitors in the way, her services are necessary. Anywhere he goes, Masashi finds himself threatened by those trying to take what he deserves, or perhaps that's a testament to his insecurities. There was a time when Masashi would have had a slight flustered reaction to her advances, but overtime that has worn out with a tolerance of her odd behavior. Still, he'd like to keep things professional at all times. There was a brief, restrained sign of irritation just after he felt her fingers over the neck. An exhale, furrowed brows with eyes closed in reservation. And a slight shift away from her even though she had already started to move past him. It was an attempt to remind this little devil to keep things professional. Though perhaps that was a lost cause. "Of course. I'll take over from here. It's only natural for me to be the center of attention, not these 'heroes'." There was a hint of bitterness to that. A sign of envy. Maybe if he only had a big floating ship to parade on. "I'm sure I'll need your services again, Koakuma. Take care." He left her with a slight grin. A hint of his delusion that he was in control of this show. And with that, he'd let loose another smokescreen of black vapor. Shadows wrapping around the street like a cloud of ink. Masashi began to walk his own way now, intended to return to his territory. It would be flashier after all to leave in that 'mysterious' fashion.</s>
<\|description\|>Jasmine Kotono "Fry and die already!" Appearance: Even when outside of her magical girl attire, it's not tough to recognize the somewhat gloomy punk and the magical girl running around Shinjuku as one and the same, and she makes no attempt to deny any comparisons. Spiked bracelets, leather jackets, torn off jeans, ripped leggings, political t-shirts, and similar black attire are all regular staples of her wardrobe. Age: 19 Personality: Though generally altruistic, Jasmine is irritable, defensive, distrustful of authority, and altogether rough around the edges when she's on edge, which is relatively often. Still, she relents around those she respects, and when she's vented enough to deflate she becomes far more receptive. All in all, she's much more approachable when she's not on "the job." Background: Jasmine always got the feeling that she never really fit in anywhere. She wasn't even born in Japan, her family just travelled around a lot. It wasn't like she felt like she fit in with them either, especially when her big sister was better than her at everything. Still, she skimmed onwards at a sufficient yet unimpressive level of excellence, at least until she made a debatably ill-advised pact with a demon in the middle of a college course that she wasn't sure she was all that committed to. Though it looked like she was kind of stuck to Shinjuku now, which was something she kind of had to commit to. To her, it still felt like life sucked, but it was something she could work with. Maybe actually do something of value along the way, too. Patron: Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies Patron Tool: A silver pendant adorned with black onyx Patron Weapon: A heavy, oversized cleaver Patron Aspect: Gluttony Aspect Magic: Given a few seconds, Jasmine can concoct a bottle of what appears to be hot sauce. Further examination proves that it isn't any ordinary hot sauce, primarily due to the fact that it bursts into hellfire when exposed to open air. These flames can either be fired in bursts through careful operation of the lid, poured onto a patron weapon, or detonated like a molotov by throwing the bottle against a hard surface to create intense flames that burn abnormally quickly and are nearly impossible to put out through non magical means, and put up a greater fight against magical methods than one would expect. The sauce has an additional oddity; anything remotely edible that was charred by it will eventually become very edible once the flames burn out, and taste downright excellent, providing an energizing, empowering effect for a short time. These foods seem decently filling, but always leave one right on the edge of feeling truly sated. In fact, if one already feels full, consuming one will leave them feeling that they suddenly have room for more. Other skills: Gaming, playing the trumpet, and more recently, cooking. Other Mentions: She runs a soup kitchen when she's not busy doing the usual magical girl schtick. Both because she cares and because there's gotta be better ways to gather belief than setting everything on fire, right?</s> <\|message\|>Amélie Renard ♫𝄞 𝄪 Amélie Renard 𝄪 𝄞♫ Somewhere on one of Taito's ward building stood Amélie, her gaze turned towards the giant Tori Gate that had appeared on the waters. The building in question was a theatre which had housed Amélie's latest performance, which unfortunately was cut short between two pieces when she received bad news and had to leave in emergency. The popular piano player Miss Renard was well known, and so was the Magical protector of the ward but the young prodigy never intended to have both identities become one and the same. More so out of convenience than fear. Fame...was not something Amélie desired. Her musical career and dream led her to own some of it, but it was a byproduct of her chosen passion - not something she set out to obtain. Already changed into her Magical counterpart, Amélie slowly let herself fall forward from the building and began running down the wall until, in a long and graceful jump, she propelled herself to the next rooftop. Each of her steps was met with some ripple effect that also produced different musical notes that, somehow, fitted with one another into short but precise melodies. While she seemed to be able to launch herself great distances, when compared to a regular human, she still sometimes stepped on seemingly thin air. On these occasion, the ripple effect still appeared as some sort of platform, allowing her to gracefully skip through the air like a ballerina. It was not long before she had reached the area around the bay. As soon as she landed on a nearby rooftop, Amélie paused. Down on the water's edge she spotted one of her 'peers', so to speak. She seemed under attack, be plenty able to handle herself. Surely, more were on their ways. More interestingly, some Monsters seemed to have been faster than the rest and already passed the front liner and were reaching the streets. Down below, two Yokai found preys. They bore green, thick skin and messy hair as well as a shell on their back; Kappas. They had found human preys in the form of two children, whom they were now dragging towards the water where a third Kappa was trying to break the ice, or find an entry, to quite possibly drown their victims. A quick fall and a flip later, and two of the Kappas would look behind them as their companion could be heard letting out a loud screeching sound and fall the the ground. Or rather, it's headless body did. Landing, slashing, body to the ground and, finally, head to the ground~ All of these produced a musical note that ended in a crescendo when the head finished rolling near the two others, Amélie standing between them and the two children. The two monsters charged. Lunge, trust, jump, spin, trust, slash - the monsters died to some magical piano melody as their blood was wiped from Amélie's ebony blade, who was standing straight, regal. The woman turned to the two children, her long, white hair following her movement perfectly. "You are safe now. Take care and leave as far as you can for now, please." There was glory and fame to be had in being a magical girl, but there was also lives to save. Down here, in this remote street far away from cameras and views, Amélie had long since made her choice.</s> <\|message\|>Masashi Yamada A star has arrived. There was a suddenly an explosion of black smoke along an unoccupied street. A black and purple pillar of shadows rose from the clearing smoke. The pillar had risen far above the surrounding buildings before its form extended a long flight of steps to the street, and a slightly more purple carpet of shadows materialized and rolled down the steps. With the remaining smoke clearing around where the steps stopped at, a figure emerged already taking the first step onto the stairs. A well dressed suit, gold trimmed, with armored pauldrons and a ring on one of his gloved hands. Masashi Yamada, the Fortunate Shadow, the self proclaimed prince of Arakawa. He had finally appeared on the scene, always one for his dramatic entrances. Due to the height of the stairs, he had them move and shuffle like an escalator to bring him to the top, stopping once he had reached the step below the top of his pillar. With a snap of his fingers and a stream of shadows from his ring, a throne formed itself out from the pillar's floor. Masashi had spent a great deal of practice to simulate a proper, comfortable seat made from his shadows. His real furniture at home were still more comfortable, but his current constructions was satisfactory nonetheless. Before he let himself sit, however, he turned to face the steps, to face the frozen bay and the gate of monsters. "Hmph! It seems it was a waste to come here after all! An easy task such as this is better suited for my personal servant!" Masashi explained with dramatic flair. He was always one to play character whenever he was 'on the job.' Always to try and put on a show. The height of his throne left room for long ranged support should that somehow be required, though he had no intention of actually getting his hands dirty if he could help it, but more importantly it was to ensure a bubble of personal space, a luxury that was rare when dealing with her. He raised his right towards the sky, facing the same direction upward as he began to shout. "I beseech the powers of lord Hades! From the deepest depths of the underworld, the infernal pits of Tartarus! Again I call upon a monster worthy to serve under my power! Come fourth, the Witch of Shadows, the Weaver of Night! Dispatch of these pests!" He chanted loudly, sounding like some kind of spell. His ring had glowed with black light while he had spoke. It something he had rehearsed and practiced unlike most of his abilities. In reality, the words had no purpose in the spell, it was just to draw attention to himself and to buy time. When he finished, the ring streamed a connection of shadows to an alleyway near where the steps he had summoned began. A predetermined spot he had planned with an accomplice. Another burst of smoke erupted through the streets from the desired point, this one lasting a bit longer to allow 'his servant' to get into position. The First few steps of the stairs had morphed completely within the smoke-formed shadows. Becoming something closer to a stage with steps on all three sides to the street. An archway standing at the center where the rug extended and continued to roll down the steps and off into the street to adjust the new structure. Two braziers simulating shadow-flames stood at either end of the front of this stage as the smoke started to clear. Before it fully cleared up, far above, Masashi had already taken his seat upon the throne with a devilish smirk.</s> <\|message\|>Haniwa, or Hani as most call her. --- Of all the times they had to bother her. Can't they just show up between work breaks at 12 to 1 pm, or after work at 6pm? The roar of the motorcycle drowned the normal Tokyo noise as she sped down the road. Ryofu ate the bun in one hand angrily, her golden hair streaked with red and green streaming in the wind. She looked, for lack of other words, like a fresh corpse came to life, with stiches, scars and bandages all over her body, and the pallid colour of her skin. Perhaps a terrifying sight for some, had the road revenant rider not also been known as the Red Rider of Ginza. "Get your ass in the fight, Shadow Boy!" With a honk of the horn, and a swerve, the bike turned sharply, the sheer speeds kicking up snow straight at Masahi. She could see there was already a few of them already fighting off the monsters streaming in from that gate, though even more still came in, threatening to overwhelm them by sheer numbers alone. Ryofu wasn't as lucky as the others in the youkais that attacked them. Several tengus immediately swooped down upon her, blades swinging wildly. It was said that tengus were great martial artists, and had swordsmanship beyond the common man. Of course, Ryofu wasn't a common man. Her weight shifted as the bike did a violent somersault, catching the blades on its undercarriage. If they had any thoughts of retreating out of the range of her attacks by flying away, it was swiftly cut short by the chains materializing from several magical circles around her, wrapping around their bodies like snakes. "Sky Piercer!" The bike slammed back onto the ground as she jumped upwards, pulling the chains towards her. There was an audible whirring noise as her arms manifested glowing blue lines, strengthening her body, before she slammed the bat into the chained up tengus. Each of them exploded violently into the parade of youkais, dotting the areas near the gate. "Shit, gonna have to explode the gate or something! They're coming out of it faster!" Pulling herself onto her still running bike with a chain, she jumped over the railings and into the frozen bay itself, one hand on her bat.</s>	<\|message\|>Jasmine Kotono The sight of a girl sprinting at top speed with a piece of toast in her mouth would be a typical sight, if not for the fact that this was Jasmine Kotono, a punk witch magical girl with a bandolier full of hot sauce and a massive cleaver slung over her right shoulder. Also, the toast was on fire. Jasmine produced a bottle and poured a line of flaming red sauce along the edge of her cleaver as she dashed out onto the ice. Why did monsters have to attack so early in the morning? Hell if she knew. The lack of caffeine was pissing her off, but she was generally pissed off whenever she happened to be in a fight anyways. She could grab coffee after, though. Now, it was time for breakfast. The witch inhaled her toast as she spotted her prey, which happened to be one of those weird hopping umbrella things. It'd do. Feeling an occult overflow of spice and the magical energy that fueled her powers, she dashed towards the yokai and sliced it in half before it had any chance to fight back. She reached out and grabbed the burning top half of the remains before it could hit the floor and melt a hole in the ice, chowing down on charred paper that somehow tasted like spicy heaven. Actually, she could probably take this one with- Her thoughts were interrupted as she took a club to the back, tumbling to the ground as she spotted an oni looming overhead. Any sense of dread was immediately overcome by anger as she noticed she was no longer holding her meal. "I was eating that, you piece of shit!" Jasmine roared, reaching for a bottle and spraying a burst of hellfire at the oni. She didn't even bother to watch it die as she reached for her new half-eaten umbrella, rolling around on the ice. She gobbled down the less weird-looking parts for a few moments before stopping to stare at the gate. Her peers could probably take care of the hordes, but she was eager to burn that thing down and go home. She broke into a sprint again, dodging, slicing, and burning her way through ever-increasing masses of yokai until she found herself surrounded. She made a rough estimate of their numbers. It was enough. She beckoned them closer before withdrawing a fresh bottle of sauce. They got ready to pounce… And Jasmine leapt. "Burn in hell!" She tossed the bottle to the ground. BOOM! A massive burst of flame erupted behind her as she hit the ground, red hot sauce burning its way through both the yokai and the ice they stood on, seawater boiling as it engulfed fire that it could not smother. There were no survivors... and no surviving snacks either, to Jasmine's annoyance. Well, that oughta thin 'em out a bit, at least… Time to do that to the gate.</s>
<\|description\|>Umiko Satsuma (薩摩海子) Age: 16 Appearance: Outside of her magical girl form, Umiko is fairly average in looks - which is why she tends to dye her hair, wear nice clothing and trendy accessories, and perfects her make-up routine. She is short, slender, and has an average bust. She's always well groomed and is particularly proud of her luscious locks of hair (which are currently purple, her original hair color is black). When transformed, Umiko's hair fluffs up and turns a varying shade of colors - it's actually so long that she keeps it in a ponytail after the first transformation, and is happy it's stayed that way since. She also gains some visual traits from her Patron: a matching fluffy tail, an extra set of pointed ears, and a horn that looks like it's made of gemstone. Her battle outfit is European in style, giving off the impression of a military official. Personality: First impressions paint Umiko as "perfect." She is kind and helpful, smart and athletic, and of course she is modest too. However, the longer one spends with her the more that impression starts to feel less than genuine. The perfect and proper class president persona is one Umiko has carefully crafted. In reality she is a normal teenage girl. She has strong emotions though she tries not to let the bad ones show through. She gets irritated and passive-aggressive. She cries when she's stressed. She hates getting flustered. She does like doting on underclassmen, and she is truthfully the kind that would go out of their way to help people, but she tends to take on more responsibility than she can handle and rather than admit she is overwhelmed, she will put on a painful smile and stubbornly trudge through. In that way, she is a bit hard-headed as well. Background: Umiko is currently going through her 2nd year in an all-girls high school. Her family moved her to an apartment closer to the school in Tokyo's central ward of Bunkyō just before Umiko's high school debut, and though it was initially a struggle to make friends Umiko has since risen to the level of class president with hard work and by tailoring her demeanor to those around her. She's very proud of herself, and she knows her parents would be proud too if they came around at all. As of now both of her parents work extremely demanding jobs and seldom visit, although at least one of them tries to schedule a phone call once a week or so. But that's alright! Umiko has become an expert in taking care of the home with her parents' absence. It's also taught her a lot about time management... and responsibility. That's why when her Patron reached out to her, Umiko knew the right thing to do was accept and use the power she was granted to help people. In return for spreading her Patron's influence (which she does by comparing herself to a Kirin) she received the ability to transform her body into that of a heroine. Balancing her school work, student council work, and magical work is no easy feat but Umiko certainly makes it look like it is - but perhaps it's only a matter of time before the balancing act topples over. Patron: Amalthea She-Goat Nymph, Foster Mother of Zeus Patron Tool: A shimmering shawl, when transformed it takes the form of Umiko's cape and shoulder guards. Patron Weapon: A sturdy yet stylish spear. Patron Aspect: Aegis Aspect Magic: The power of the Aegis is the epitome of defense. Nothing can pierce the ancient hide. For Umiko, this means that she has the ability to make things extremely tough. She can harden her own skin and make her body an impenetrable barrier, and she can apply the hardening to objects and other people. Making impromptu shields with unlikely items is well within her ability. It's also possible to change the density of an object, if only to make it heavier or return it to it's normal density. Using her Aspect Magic on herself changes her battle style to be slow and forceful, but she really prefers the faster pace of her spear. Other skills: Cooking, sewing, cleaning, passive-aggressiveness, compromising, track-and-field, calling up obscure facts. Other Mentions: n/a for now!</s> <\|message\|>Jasmine Kotono Jasmine Kotono The sight of a girl sprinting at top speed with a piece of toast in her mouth would be a typical sight, if not for the fact that this was Jasmine Kotono, a punk witch magical girl with a bandolier full of hot sauce and a massive cleaver slung over her right shoulder. Also, the toast was on fire. Jasmine produced a bottle and poured a line of flaming red sauce along the edge of her cleaver as she dashed out onto the ice. Why did monsters have to attack so early in the morning? Hell if she knew. The lack of caffeine was pissing her off, but she was generally pissed off whenever she happened to be in a fight anyways. She could grab coffee after, though. Now, it was time for breakfast. The witch inhaled her toast as she spotted her prey, which happened to be one of those weird hopping umbrella things. It'd do. Feeling an occult overflow of spice and the magical energy that fueled her powers, she dashed towards the yokai and sliced it in half before it had any chance to fight back. She reached out and grabbed the burning top half of the remains before it could hit the floor and melt a hole in the ice, chowing down on charred paper that somehow tasted like spicy heaven. Actually, she could probably take this one with- Her thoughts were interrupted as she took a club to the back, tumbling to the ground as she spotted an oni looming overhead. Any sense of dread was immediately overcome by anger as she noticed she was no longer holding her meal. "I was eating that, you piece of shit!" Jasmine roared, reaching for a bottle and spraying a burst of hellfire at the oni. She didn't even bother to watch it die as she reached for her new half-eaten umbrella, rolling around on the ice. She gobbled down the less weird-looking parts for a few moments before stopping to stare at the gate. Her peers could probably take care of the hordes, but she was eager to burn that thing down and go home. She broke into a sprint again, dodging, slicing, and burning her way through ever-increasing masses of yokai until she found herself surrounded. She made a rough estimate of their numbers. It was enough. She beckoned them closer before withdrawing a fresh bottle of sauce. They got ready to pounce… And Jasmine leapt. "Burn in hell!" She tossed the bottle to the ground. BOOM! A massive burst of flame erupted behind her as she hit the ground, red hot sauce burning its way through both the yokai and the ice they stood on, seawater boiling as it engulfed fire that it could not smother. There were no survivors... and no surviving snacks either, to Jasmine's annoyance. Well, that oughta thin 'em out a bit, at least… Time to do that to the gate.</s> <\|message\|>Chihaya Junnosuke --- Mentions: The clouds themselves would begin to part as laughter filled the sky. An antique ship pulled from the pages of history would make its descent from the heavens above, its golden-trimmed hull covered with a light frosting of snow. At the quarterdeck stood a young man in a dazzling officer's outfit, his hands confidently resting on his hips as he laughed heartily at the yokai below. Grand Admiral "J," as he was known to the general populace, or Chihaya Junnosuke to his true fans, has entered the battle fashionably late and with a wide grin on his face! "Sorry for taking my time, ladies and gent! Most of my morning is dedicated to 'me time.'" Jun said, with a grin. Of course, he is referring mainly to the time between 6:30 - 7:00 AM, where he would stare at himself in the mirror to ensure there were no blemishes on his perfect face. Only true fans would know this, it's on his Wiki page. As his ship, the Argo, continued to make his descent, the ship's bow began to glow faintly. "The monsters seem to be originating from the gate. Primary target identified." A voice spoke to Jun with a neutral tone from the ship, its voice androgynous. "Yup, could see that from a mile a way." Jun replied, his brow furrowed. "Calculating the best path towards primary target." As the Argo's systems scanned through the hordes of monsters, Jun watched as the other magical children of Tokyo fought their way through the hordes of yokai, waves of fire and ice crashing through the frozen riverbank! It also looks like someone has... started their own concert in the middle of all this? Either way, it seems that most of Tokyo's eyes were on the ground, rather than the skies. The consequences of being late. Jun already knew just how to make up for all that lost time. "Optimal path calculated. Proceed to-" "Don't care, didn't ask!" Jun grasped at the ship's wheel in front of him, spinning it dramatically as the ship made its nosedive towards the closest, biggest yokai in the horde; a giant hungry skeleton! Jun would cackle heroically as his ship's prow into the poor Gashadokuro, earning him another perfect strike on his bowling record before crashing into vast assortments of possessed furniture. Spinning the wheel into the opposite direction, the Argo would soon come to a screeching halt tearing through bits of the frozen bay and crushing any unfortunate yokai in its wake. "Hop on, everyone! It's time to bring the fight to them!" Jun shouted to the magical children on the ground, giving a valorous salute to them all. Cue the title card.</s>	<\|message\|>Umiko Satsuma (薩摩海子) Everything she needed for school was packed. Her uniform was clean and wrinkle-free. It was the start of a new week, which was when Umiko felt the most refreshed. The last thing she tended to do before heading out and trying to arrive early was check the television for any news that needed her attention. Most days there were mentions of small events like localized monster invasions that another "magical children" could handle in their ward, or single beasts that she could face off against and defeat before her day really got started. Right, Umiko was a magical girl tasked with protecting the city. `Reports state that the torii materialized earlier this morning. As of yet nothing else has happen— wait a moment. Back to our live feed—` The picture swapped from the anchor commentating over a photo of the gate to a slightly wobbly video of it. Even in the video it was clear to see that the structure was pulsing with magical energy. Before the feed got to show the torrent of yōkai Umiko was out the door of her apartment, a brilliant shining light masking her transformation before she leapt up to the rooftop, and from building to building towards the bay. ◈•̩̩͙◆•̩̩͙◈•̩̩͙◆•̩̩͙◈•̩̩͙◆•̩̩͙◈ She hadn't expected to be the first on the scene. There were other magical people who were stationed far closer to the bay, after all. Plus with this kind of attack, it was a given that many of them would make their way here. However, it looked like she'd lost some time on her way cleaning up the few flying monsters that had snuck by and tried making a move into the city proper. So she'd arrived a little later than she would have liked to - and after all of her neighbors, which was very annoying. Still, Umiko wasn't one to sulk for long (in public). She burst onto the scene from among the buildings lining the bay. There were a couple of magical people that hadn't yet advanced onto the ice. Umiko was quick to give her opinion out to those she saw, as was normal for the magical children that had worked alongside or adjacent to her before. That zombie delinquent rode by in a blaze, and though Umiko internally cringed at her vulgar language she did agree with the words themselves. "Make yourself useful and help protect the civilians," she told the shadow user. With her head held high and her magical uniform, Umiko had the appearance of a general all but commanding the young man, though experience told her that he was loathe to do what he was told. Umiko glanced at the magical musician and gave her an approving nod and a smile. Then she was off again, dashing onto the ice and thinking of her options while she moved forward following the wake of some of the others. Would her magic affect the torii? If she was able to sink it through the ice and into the bay, then what? She had to assume yōkai would still spill out of it, though hopefully the water would slow them significantly. The gate would most likely not be destroyed just by being submerged, so she would have to work on that with a few of the others. She noted that the water using... Calypso, was it? Was already on the scene. Umiko's advance was slowed by one of her neighbors, the punk girl, melting the ice in her path. She jumped over the newly opened patch in the ice and was, again, slowed by another neighbor - this one sliding his huge ship into the area. Umiko nearly collided with it, pivoting just before she crashed to land on it's side and push off with her feet, jumping up onto the deck. The look she gave Jun was far from amused, but since he was offering... "I'm not sure this ship will be swifter than going on foot," she greeted him with, "but we should hurry up regardless, we don't want this to go on for too long!" For multiple reasons, but the most pressing being she didn't want to suffer a tardy mark for being late to class.</s>
<\|description\|>Takeyama Matsuo * Character Name: Sefira Sylvanbelle * Race: Elf * Appearance: Blonde hair, blue eyes, light skin. Very short. Clothing is largely shades of blue. * Age: 21 * Personality: Matsuo is the no-nonsense type, one to take his studies as a university student very seriously. A dilligent student who refuses to accept nonsense, it would be a shock to many of his real life friends that Matsuo is something of fan of anime, manga, and video games. Indeed, his no-nonsense attitude and short temper would make this considerably unlikely. Indeed, due to his image as an excellent student, he felt self-conscious about how his hobbies might be seen and thus endeavored to keep it a secret from his real life friends. Matsuo is an especially big fan of character design, and one of the things that drew him to Emerald Odyssey was its robust character creator. Modeling his character on his favorite archetype, the surly and petite type of tsundere, Matsuo soon became an avid player of Emerald Odyssey. While he played the game to enjoy it, that didn't mean he took kindly to players who got themselves caught in AoEs that were obviously going to drop or completely failed to pay attention to what was going on around them. That being said, the fact that he was quite accomplished as a high burst damage mage(and a healer on the side even though he hated it) quickly made him a valuable party member. Matsuo's short temper and no-nonsense attitude were remarkably suited towards the role of a petite tsundere character, making it all the more ironic now that she has become one. Indeed, becoming Sefira is bound to be a shock, and she's going to have quite a struggle from now on... * History: A university student who lived a relatively normal life. Matsuo's background is nothing too surprising, though pressure to succeed from his parents was likely born from their own successes. Still, he enjoyed being a successful student. That being said, he also came to realize he needed something to release stress and alleviate the pressure, and after reading a light novel titled The Elven Mage Can't Stand Me began his journey into the world of anime, manga, and video games. Spending his time balancing his studies and his hobbies, he also became interested in Emerald Odyssey and was soon an avid player. Never once did he suspect that he would become his character... * Classes: + Starlight Mage: A burst damage class, Sefira as a Starlight Mage is capable of high-power ranged spells. Possessing low HP and low defense, her main defensive options in this class is the use of a barrier spell that prevents attacks from reaching her. Her basic attacks take the form of showers of blue magical bullets. In lore, Starlight Mages utilize the stars and constellations as a template for their spells. As a result, by invoking various constellations she can reduce casting times and increase damage. + Sage: A straightforward healing class, built for direct healing and resurrections of injured or fallen players. Sefira absolutely hates playing healer, and only started because her friends in game needed one. Having experienced almost no enjoyment from playing healer, she thus only uses it as an absolute last resort. Now that the game is real it may become different as it is far more important to ensure others wellbeing, but she would still much rather utilize her more offensive skillset. * Other: N/A</s> <\|message\|>Itouchi Horiyama Saito Souji Aluvera - City Square --- The screeches of a few harpies cried overhead as a few running citizens scampered away in fear for their lives. One of which tripped and fell, a young child by the looks of it as the harpy talons borne swooped in, the child would recoil in fear for the inevitable, yet... It did not come. A flutter of feathers followed by the multiple thuds as something fell from the air. The boy would open their eyes and see a black cloaked man holding a katana in between them. One look from the man and the child slowly got up, before being ushered away by their parent. "How curious, my body appears to simply move if I want to use my skills", he said to himself, as he made his way towards the city's square. Although... A monster attack in a sanctuary area, this was most certainly not part of the normal game, and the way the NPCs had reacted were far too advanced to be a scripted event, he had some knowledge of how games should work and... The technology should not be at this level yet. As he slowly made his way towards the city square, he had the opportunity to test out his techniques and get a feeling for fighting. Given where they were, and assuming it was all 'real'... Fighting would be inevitable, made very apparent by this event. He can think about what has happened later, he thought to himself. He soon found himself at the heart of the commotion, and there were already some people here fighting. Griffons and Sphinxes were present, a much greater foe than harpies. Given the strength of these enemies he should pick an enemy already being engaged with, and end them as soon as possible. He looked around and saw another swordsman charging at a Sphinx, and took it upon himself to assist him. Taking his katana in two hands he charged forward, "Myoujingiri!" He began to move quickly before disappearing into a blur, a flurry of slashes would make themselves visible followed by streaks of light lined up against the front legs and neck in various arrays, before he finally appeared at the front of the Sphinx. There was no tank holding the Sphinx's attention, and knowing that he aimed to end it as soon as he could.</s> <\|message\|>Kosame Ariyoshi Kokoma Aluvera - City Streets --- This was definitely Aluvera. The market, the sounds...ah, it was as if everything had gotten suddenly turned into glorious, 24k HD with photorealism. And it didn't seem like she was alone here either, if the perplexed gazes of a number of others were anything to go by. Still, she didn't pay them much mind as she'd sprint through the streets. She was just running from sheer excitement still at this point, not even bothering to register much of anything else. It wouldn't be until some minutes later she'd have finally managed to actually run out of breath, slowing to a walk as she'd still start looking in amazement at the city around her. It really couldn't be a dream now, could it? "Keaheheh~!" Kokoma visibly vibrated on the spot. If Tatl had been with her she'd probably have gotten whacked or something, if the spiders personality was anything like she imagined, but she couldn't help it. If her excitement levels were in fact, capable of going supernova, they definitely would have by now. "I...I can't...ahaah~" She was so caught up in her enjoyment, she hadn't first even registered the sky darkening. Her laughter though, would be cut short by the sound of something rocking the earth in the square not too far away. Her ears flicked in the direction of the noise, her head soon following suit as she'd also, see the sky above splitting open, monsters spilling forth. Someone else may have hesitated, or found this entire situation to be absurd, but those people just overthought everything as far as she cared - more importantly...someone looked completely out of place and some harpy was about to try making a snack out of them it seemed like. "Miss elf get down!" The smart, and logical thing here would be to attack the harpy with her spear...but Kokoma was completely forgetting she even had it. So instead, she'd focus on doing what she was attempting in a much more literal fashion - protect the cute looking confused elf. So instead of assaulting the harpy, she'd instead, seemingly assault Sefira. She'd tackle the elf, knocking the both of them out of the way of the harpy's talons, it screeching in mild annoyance as its prey would be taken from it. "Whew, good thing I was just walking on by." Kokoma would say, laying atop Sefira, not bothering to get up as she'd let her head rest on the other girls chest. "Ehehe, you can thank me for saving that cute butt of yours." She didn't realize it, but her tail was wagging fairly frantically back and forth. "...Cute chest too. Mind if I lay here for a bit longer, eheh~?"</s> <\|message\|>Takeyama Matsuo Matsuo-Or perhaps Sefira was more suitable at the moment-had only barely managed to tear her eyes away from her own reflection. To promptly stare at her own petite, slender, delicate hands in mute shock, but progress was progress. It was hard to do anything else. Her body had once been... well, a university-age man's. And now... Sefira looked like she was somewhere in her teens. Petite and youthful, with a figure lacking any real maturity. This was all by design. Matsuo had modeled Sefira on some of his favorite tsundere characters. He particularly liked the short ones who got angry for being mistaken for younger then they actually were. Of course that wasn't the only reason he liked them, they still had to be developed characters beyond that... But right now Sefira was cursing her own past decisions internally. Not only was she now female, but she was so small. It was going to be even harder to deal with! So caught up in her own thoughts was the blonde elf that she only registered something was coming at her moments before it actually struck. A part of her brain actually capable of making rational thoughts realized it was the familiar winged shape of a harpy. Another part of her wondered if she was about to get killed immediately after ending up in some kind of weird isekai scenario. If this was seriously going to be how her life ended. Everything was happening all at once. It was too much happening all at once. A part of her just wanted to scream. And then... Someone tackled her to the ground from the side. Sefira yelped as she hit the ground, landing on her back as her savior landed on top of her, both out of reach of those sweeping, grasping claws. For a few moments, Sefira simply laid there beneath her savior, her mind trying to catch up with the situation. At least until said savior decided to make comments about her figure. Almost immediately, in spite of everything, her cheeks reddened. "Wh-what are you, some kind of dirty old man!?" she shouted, unable to contain herself, "We're caught up in some kind of stupid isekai plot and now there's monsters, and you're... y-you're..." Even thinking about her own body was embarrassing at this point. "We need to g-get... just let me up! Gaaaah..." Flustered, trying to collect her thoughts, Sefira glanced skywards. There really was a lot of other monsters, and the sky had gotten dark... Wait. If she was Sefira now, did that mean...?</s> <\|message\|>Kosame Ariyoshi Kokoma Aluvera - City Streets --- "I'm adorable, thanks for noticing~" Kokoma would reply to Sefira with a impish chuckle, rolling off the elf and sitting on the ground next to her, tail still aggressively wagging. She seemed to either not hear or chose to ignore the old man comment in favor of completely missing the context of the 'you're' part of that sentence. "But jeez, not even a thanks? That cute butt of yours was about to become harpy feed." A brief pout, ears drooping slightly. "I take cuddles, pets and any display of affection as payment. If you're feeling particularly frisky your body works too kehahah~" Her mouth would curl into a teasing grin. Despite her seeming nonchalance about this entire situation, Kokoma did in fact, realize the sort of danger they were in, which is why she as choosing to stay with this girl for the moment instead of running off. No cute girl was gonna get harmed on her watch, no sir~ "Hup," She'd jump up from her sitting position, looking towards the square with a bit of interest after finishing her teasing. "Eheh, you look like you could use Kokoma's protection, so I'll go with ya for now yeah?~ Don't worry, I'm good at that."</s>	<\|message\|>Takeyama Matsuo Upon realizing that she hadn't actually thanked her savior, Sefira quickly stumbled to her feet the moment she was free. "Er... thanks," she said, averting her eyes as she spoke. The girl's bizarre behavior was still an enigma. Why would anyone be handling a situation like this... like that?! Wait, what was that?! "M-m-m-my b-body?! I-I... y-you... C-can't you take things a little more seriously?!" she cried, waving her hands in the air as if to gesture to the world around them, "We're in some weird isekai scenario, at least assuming you're another player, and I-" She hesitated. Saying she was actually a guy out loud would be way too much, especially when it came to someone weird like this and especially right now. She was barely managing to deal with that rather major change internally, if she tried to say anything about it there was no way it'd make it any easier if she blurted it out to the first stranger she ran into. Especially since the first stranger she ran into was some kind of weird pervert or something. Sefira took a deep breath. "N-nevermind," she said, her eyes turning skywards once more. There were monsters attacking from the skies. She recognized harpies like the one that attacked her, griffons, and sphinxes. Sphinxes? What were they even doing here? "I-if we run, we'll probably just be attacked again," she said, trying to keep the subject off anything embarrassing and on the problem at hand as best she could, "Hmph, what the hell kind of game balance is this, just dropping monsters on a city..." Then again, it was real now, so game balance probably didn't matter. What did matter was the clear and immediately danger to her and everyone else around her. The blonde elf looked down at her delicate hands again. Maybe...</s>
<\|description\|>Takeyama Matsuo * Character Name: Sefira Sylvanbelle * Race: Elf * Appearance: Blonde hair, blue eyes, light skin. Very short. Clothing is largely shades of blue. * Age: 21 * Personality: Matsuo is the no-nonsense type, one to take his studies as a university student very seriously. A dilligent student who refuses to accept nonsense, it would be a shock to many of his real life friends that Matsuo is something of fan of anime, manga, and video games. Indeed, his no-nonsense attitude and short temper would make this considerably unlikely. Indeed, due to his image as an excellent student, he felt self-conscious about how his hobbies might be seen and thus endeavored to keep it a secret from his real life friends. Matsuo is an especially big fan of character design, and one of the things that drew him to Emerald Odyssey was its robust character creator. Modeling his character on his favorite archetype, the surly and petite type of tsundere, Matsuo soon became an avid player of Emerald Odyssey. While he played the game to enjoy it, that didn't mean he took kindly to players who got themselves caught in AoEs that were obviously going to drop or completely failed to pay attention to what was going on around them. That being said, the fact that he was quite accomplished as a high burst damage mage(and a healer on the side even though he hated it) quickly made him a valuable party member. Matsuo's short temper and no-nonsense attitude were remarkably suited towards the role of a petite tsundere character, making it all the more ironic now that she has become one. Indeed, becoming Sefira is bound to be a shock, and she's going to have quite a struggle from now on... * History: A university student who lived a relatively normal life. Matsuo's background is nothing too surprising, though pressure to succeed from his parents was likely born from their own successes. Still, he enjoyed being a successful student. That being said, he also came to realize he needed something to release stress and alleviate the pressure, and after reading a light novel titled The Elven Mage Can't Stand Me began his journey into the world of anime, manga, and video games. Spending his time balancing his studies and his hobbies, he also became interested in Emerald Odyssey and was soon an avid player. Never once did he suspect that he would become his character... * Classes: + Starlight Mage: A burst damage class, Sefira as a Starlight Mage is capable of high-power ranged spells. Possessing low HP and low defense, her main defensive options in this class is the use of a barrier spell that prevents attacks from reaching her. Her basic attacks take the form of showers of blue magical bullets. In lore, Starlight Mages utilize the stars and constellations as a template for their spells. As a result, by invoking various constellations she can reduce casting times and increase damage. + Sage: A straightforward healing class, built for direct healing and resurrections of injured or fallen players. Sefira absolutely hates playing healer, and only started because her friends in game needed one. Having experienced almost no enjoyment from playing healer, she thus only uses it as an absolute last resort. Now that the game is real it may become different as it is far more important to ensure others wellbeing, but she would still much rather utilize her more offensive skillset. * Other: N/A</s> <\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Myrtle Bramblewood Sen Rynta — Wellspring Park Myrtle smiled nervously, scratching her cheek with her index finger. "Y-yeah, good on me… and good on her too…" T-that's right! I'm not in the wrong here! She's in a better place now, with me! "H-hey, Azure. You're happy with me being your master, right?" The maid tilted her head. "Yes. I am readonably happy. Though I would be happier if you would act more lady-like, Miss. For starters, you should wear longer dresses. I know you're an adventurer and all but whenever I see you wearing those short dresses, I can't help but worry you'll expose yourself." Oh, thank God she's hap— Wait, what did she say about my dresses? Hey! It took me days designing all of them! I won't let you talk badly about them! She wasn't a weaver herself, of course, but she had worked with a friend of hers who was one. She provided the funds and the design, commissioning them to actually manufacture the outfit. She pouted at the maid, putting one hand on her hip, cocking it to the side. "Hmph, you don't have to worry. I know how to sit properly." After all, she already wore short skirts in real life. The maid took a long, deep sigh. "It's not just that. You have to be careful with the wind as well. You know that today, I already caught a glimpse of your undergarments multiple times from it." Hearing this, Myrtle's cheeks immediately reddened. "W-what?! You can't say that! And in front of a stranger too!" "Ehem!" Their conversation was interrupted by none other than the Belva youth. And he seemed to be quite annoyed, judging by his sharp gaze and folded arms. He then told Myrtle that they should probably move the unconscious man somewhere else that wasn't in the middle of the road. And by them, he meant him, as he was already dragging the NPC on his own. He might be small but his strength certainly wasn't lacking. Wow, that feels weird… watching a kid drag an adult like that. Oops, can't call a Belva a kid. Especially since whoever is playing him, they are certainly not one. She walked over to him once he finished with a smile. "Hey, why don't we exchange contacts? I'm a proficient alchemist. If you need anything, I can sell it to you at a discount." She winked. "And as people who are now stuck in this world, we should stick together."</s> <\|message\|>Kosame Ariyoshi Kokoma Aluvera - City Streets --- "Uhmu?" Kokoma would tilt her head quizzically, helping Sefira onto her mount. It was brief, but she was fairly certain she heard 'Sefira' mention another name. Takeyamat? No, that didn't make any sense. Takeyama? That was a better sounding name- Wait. Oh. that's why this adorable girl was being all nervous. "Pfft-" Kokoma held a hand over her mouth, stifling laughter. Oh that was great! This adorable little kid, ahaahah! Realistically something like that wouldn't be uncommon in mmo's and stuff, but it was probably still rather disorienting to just suddenly find yourself genderbent. Hmhm...well, she could say something, but where would the fun be in that for now? No, she'd wait a minute and catch her off guard when she least expected it. "Well, nice to meet ya 'Sefira'. Don't worry your cute little ears over anything, you're safe with me~" Somehow, she'd probably get the feeling she was the opposite of safe. "Alrighty! Lets go monster hunting! Yahooo~! Keep your legs inside the vehicle at all times, and your arms wrapped firmly around Kokoma's waist unless you wanna be knocked off~!" With a howl of excitement, her mount too would bound towards the outskirts of the city. While most of the monsters seemed to have been dealt with near the center, it'd probably be a good idea to make sure there was nothing left around the less traveled parts of the city.</s>	<\|message\|>Takeyama Matsuo As Sefira very reluctantly placed her hands on Kokoma's waist, trying to do everything she could to avoid touching the other girl in any place that was even more awkward then that, a distinct feeling of dread welled up within her. As if she had indeed let slip something that was going to make her future considerably more awkward and embarrassing then it would have otherwise. As if Kokoma had caught what she'd nearly let spill. For a few moments, all she could do is dwell on that possibility, and all this girl knowing that could entail. But there were more pressing matters at hand. The monster attack on the city would never have happened back when Emerald Odyssey was a game. It was an immediate and obvious rule change. Was it simply a result of the game now becoming reality? Or was there something more going on here? Could it even be tied to the reason she and likely many others had now become their characters in the game's world? For that matter, the NPCs she passed by were hiding, some checking on the injured, others arming themselves and looking skywards to make sure no more monsters were approaching... It was nothing like the NPCs of the game, which were more like background scenery or stood around in one place until they played their part in a given quest. It stood to reason that if the rest of the world was real, so too were the people who lived in it. There were considerably more as well... Thinking about these changes helped keep her mind off of the fact her slender legs felt sore from riding the beast, and that she was still holding onto a girl's waist this whole time. Sefira took a deep breath. "I'm guessing you got here the same way?" she asked Kokoma, "You tried to log in after the new expansion dropped, and then there was a bright flash of light? Hmph, what kind of stupid isekai setup is this...?"</s>
<\|description\|>Takeyama Matsuo * Character Name: Sefira Sylvanbelle * Race: Elf * Appearance: Blonde hair, blue eyes, light skin. Very short. Clothing is largely shades of blue. * Age: 21 * Personality: Matsuo is the no-nonsense type, one to take his studies as a university student very seriously. A dilligent student who refuses to accept nonsense, it would be a shock to many of his real life friends that Matsuo is something of fan of anime, manga, and video games. Indeed, his no-nonsense attitude and short temper would make this considerably unlikely. Indeed, due to his image as an excellent student, he felt self-conscious about how his hobbies might be seen and thus endeavored to keep it a secret from his real life friends. Matsuo is an especially big fan of character design, and one of the things that drew him to Emerald Odyssey was its robust character creator. Modeling his character on his favorite archetype, the surly and petite type of tsundere, Matsuo soon became an avid player of Emerald Odyssey. While he played the game to enjoy it, that didn't mean he took kindly to players who got themselves caught in AoEs that were obviously going to drop or completely failed to pay attention to what was going on around them. That being said, the fact that he was quite accomplished as a high burst damage mage(and a healer on the side even though he hated it) quickly made him a valuable party member. Matsuo's short temper and no-nonsense attitude were remarkably suited towards the role of a petite tsundere character, making it all the more ironic now that she has become one. Indeed, becoming Sefira is bound to be a shock, and she's going to have quite a struggle from now on... * History: A university student who lived a relatively normal life. Matsuo's background is nothing too surprising, though pressure to succeed from his parents was likely born from their own successes. Still, he enjoyed being a successful student. That being said, he also came to realize he needed something to release stress and alleviate the pressure, and after reading a light novel titled The Elven Mage Can't Stand Me began his journey into the world of anime, manga, and video games. Spending his time balancing his studies and his hobbies, he also became interested in Emerald Odyssey and was soon an avid player. Never once did he suspect that he would become his character... * Classes: + Starlight Mage: A burst damage class, Sefira as a Starlight Mage is capable of high-power ranged spells. Possessing low HP and low defense, her main defensive options in this class is the use of a barrier spell that prevents attacks from reaching her. Her basic attacks take the form of showers of blue magical bullets. In lore, Starlight Mages utilize the stars and constellations as a template for their spells. As a result, by invoking various constellations she can reduce casting times and increase damage. + Sage: A straightforward healing class, built for direct healing and resurrections of injured or fallen players. Sefira absolutely hates playing healer, and only started because her friends in game needed one. Having experienced almost no enjoyment from playing healer, she thus only uses it as an absolute last resort. Now that the game is real it may become different as it is far more important to ensure others wellbeing, but she would still much rather utilize her more offensive skillset. * Other: N/A</s> <\|message\|>Guy Parison. Magnificus the Ingenious \\: Location: Sen Rynta \| Windy Plains - Outskirts _ He nodded sagely as the still unnamed knightly lady recommended the safer path of simply camping outside. Seems they weren't the only ones around here who took that route either. It made sense for folks to just camp by civilization though. Any adventurer worth their salt would be prepared to spend a night or three camped out in the wilds which really seemed to call to mind just what on earth these noobly players he had shared the road with were planning. He wouldn't be surprised if they had set out in foolish haste, their preparation inversely proportionate to their eagerness to explore. Ah well, it wouldn't matter. After tonight he'd be back on the road, off to find Sen Rynta's mines so he might plunder them of precious minerals. With that in mind he set down his turrets, the disc bound orbs chiming to attention and placed down his shield generator which resembled the turrets except instead of discs this orb hovered atop a small engraved pillar of black stone with a mana gem set in a recess right in the center of the pillar. As the shield generator activated it projected it's mana blue semi-transparent film across a twenty meter in diameter dome, the borders clinging to the contours of the earth's dips and grooves. The shield generator is capable of creating a full three hundred and sixty degree sphere of protection however it's unable to bisect solid matter present in it's borders, limiting it to the unoccupied spaces it can fill until more space is opened up for it to occupy. Now that he was protected from outside intruders, attacks and even certain weather conditions like rain he simply pulled out a foldable lawn chair he had built for comfy camping times, laid back and breathed a nice long sigh of relief. Life as a technomancer really was a treat. It didn't matter if you were pretty or even likeable, with smarts beamed directly into your head by the game itself you could carve your own luck out. All you needed was some spirit, creativity and an eye for opportunity. At least, that's what he told himself. _ Speaking of opportunity an old man of eastern garb resting against the nearby tree which was partially clipped through the force field stirred. "Aah... Sorry 'bout that. I thought I felt something off just now. Need to go check the source of that out tomorrow..." Magnificus grinned, rising up from his lawn chair before folding it up and tucking it under his arm. With chair under arm he approached the old man, wearing an intrigued yet friendly-ish smirk as he came to a stop at a socially acceptable distance. "Ah, a fellow hat aficionado I see. A fine choice indeed..." He opened the conversation, trying his best to sound mysterious and/or cool despite being really neither as he awkwardly leaned on his lawn chair that was just a bit too short to really lean on evenly. "No need to apologize, one should definitely trust their instincts, especially in a world such as this." Deciding to give up on trying to lean on the lawn chair he simply quick-flicked it back into his inventory, standing back up straight before offering his hand forward in an offer to shake. "My name is Magnificus, Magnificus the Ingenious as nobody calls me. Feel free to call me Mag." In truth there wasn't too much reason to get all caught up in some old guy talking to himself but quite frankly any company would be preferrable to the knight of cold shoulders and that sour patch kid. _ @Operator Luna@Hammerman</s> <\|message\|>Takeyama Matsuo "..." The experience of a thorough cleaning the first time she ever removed her clothing after becoming Sefira was possibly the most embarrassing experience of her life. The elf, cheeks still deeply flushed, was now hugging her knees up to her slender body, silently giving the shenke quite a look. Cute new body this, take care of herself that... it wasn't as if she didn't know these things, but that didn't mean that having someone else do it for her was any less embarrassing. Especially when that person had serious case of wandering hands. Still, at least she was clean now. All the goo was gone. Her hair, her skin... everything. Her eyes drifted down to regard her own body for a moment, before she found her cheeks growing even hotter and quickly averted her eyes again. It was bad enough after being washed like that, but Sefira felt even more embarrassed with Kokoma still present... She was a little surprised when the other girl started talking about her life before the game suddenly became real. She worked at a Black Company? That sounded miserable. Not that it excused her behavior, but no wonder she seemed to be throwing herself into this new world with gusto. Still, that didn't mean acting this way was appropriate! "... I'm a university student," Sefira said, after a few moments of hesitation, "I was working on my studies, I played Emerald Odyssey as one of my hobbies." @PKMNB0Y</s> <\|message\|>Agaue Selinofoto Agaue Selinofoto Miura Yui Location: Sen Rynta - Sanctuary @A Lowly Wretch --- --- Yui could honestly do not much more than stare at Magnificus' sad attempt of striking up a conversation, especially a trap conversation. The old man was nonetheless an NPC with a glaringly obvious, but not visible, quest symbol above his head. She waved away her shield and lance, pulling out her tent and sleeping bag from the inventory. Sleep, food, and preparing for travel tomorrow morn was more important than the trouble that Magnificus was about to stir up. Despite her thoughts, Yui herself was curious. Did the developers program him to have a tingle too? Was her intuition better or worse than what it was? What is the source he spoke of? All these questions, and Yui knew the only answer to them would come from this man, so she too walked towards the eccentric pair, standing up stiffly with her arms across her chest. "What do you mean by that?", she asked bluntly. There was no point beating around the bush, small talk could wait later. She was still hungry after all.</s> <\|message\|>Kosame Ariyoshi Kokoma --- "Hobbies, huh." Kokoma would sink a bit into the water. "Having hobbies must have been nice..." A moment of silence followed as the Shenke just let herself be immersed in the water. University had been a pretty long time ago for her, and she had been playing Emerald Odyssey since day one, or close to it hadn't she? Jeez, so long. She'd start tilting her head back and forth as she thought, a small bit of frustration forming in her mind. "Bwahaha, now I feel like an old woman complaining like this!" Before it grew to big though, the Shenke would hop up, getting to her feet. "Alright lets get dressed! We're probably clean enough and those guys are probably hopeless without us." She'd grab Sefira and pull her too her feet...where she would promptly resume normal behavior and 'help' the girl dress herself. Supposing Sefira didn't attempt blasting her with magic during the process, the two would hopefully be back at camp soon enough.</s>	<\|message\|>Takeyama Matsuo For a few moments, Sefira found herself regarding the shenke as more of a person as opposed to a ball of raving perversity. It was an insight into who she was beyond the fact her hands tended to wander. Of course, she soon received a stark reminder of those habits when they got out of the water. "H-hey-" In some ways, this was worse then being undressed. For while she was now dry and clean, her Starlight Mage outfit was not yet ready to wear. Which meant the clothing she had prepared was for her other class. Sefira didn't like playing Sage. She didn't take the class seriously. It was a backup, meant only for when she had no choice but to play healer. So, unlike her Starlight Mage gear, she'd paid no attention to making it look like a serious mage outfit. She'd just gone for something that looked cute. As she squirmed, forced into her Sage gear, the reality of the situation was upon her. For Sefira was now wearing a schoolgirl uniform. A red ribbon around her neck, the familiar white and blue colors. A pleated blue skirt and black thigh-high socks with remarkably modern-looking shoes for a game set in a fantasy world. It had been an event outfit. "... A-ah... aaah..." Worst still was the 'headpiece', a pair of ribbons that pulled her hair up into lengthy pigtails. "..." Blushing furiously, her entire face practically glowing red, the blonde elf made her way back to camp.</s>
<\|description\|>Itouchi Horiyama Character Name: Saito Souji Race: Human Age: 24 Personality: Itouchi is a somewhat reserved individual, as one might expect from a young Japanese man, however he has a particular sense of judgement. He is prone to making his own conclusions about other people, and while he may not act on those conclusions without further observation, he can break that rule should the person in question be of distaste to him. In particular, those who treat others horribly, who act in service of only themselves, or if they act childishly and waste people's time. Normally he would simply avoid them, but there are times when he may confront them if he believes that not doing so would seriously harm the group. Despite his rather strong sense of judgement, he's a friendly person, though perhaps due to being reserved, acts somewhat formally most of the time. There are times when around close friends he may act much less so, making more jokes and acting somewhat more carefree. Perhaps something one might notice is a particularly fondness for the Shinsengumi, and though it is not as obvious as it used to be, the leftovers of that more pronounced phase of his remain in his name. History: Itouchi like many young men graduating university, would find themselves applying for a company and then working there as a salaryman. He was rather fortunate to find a good company, having had a rather normal upbringing. It was this somewhat normal lifestyle combined with the more lonely lifestyle of a salaryman that perhaps pushed him towards Emerald Odyssey, seeking something a little more exciting between work days. He started playing roughly three or four years ago, and for the first few of those he became an accomplished raider, perhaps the very best for one of the expansions, but stopped after realizing the stress it was beginning to put him under. Though he is thankful for those years as it has shaped him into a more than competent player, both overall skill with the game, and when it comes to playing with other people which was a central component. From then on he normally just played the game with friends, only delving into difficult content on a casual basis. Class(es): * Samurai - [Katana] - A melee DPS class that utilizes a Katana. A swift and agile class boasting high critical rate and critical damage that aims to move through droves of enemies with very few strokes of the blade. As a drawback, their damage if they do not land a precise strike would be more than underwhelming, and defensive capabilities are nearly none, preferring to avoid blocking with their weapon. They have access to perhaps the fastest set of weapon skills called Battoujutsu, where the samurai may resheathe their weapon, gathering up their focus and spiritual energy before unleashing it in an impressive display of blinding speed. * Kagemusha - [Nodachi] - Meaning "shadow warrior", a tank class that utilizes a Nodachi. In particular they make use of shadowy decoys to gain the attention of the enemy and even confuse them, as well as creating veils of shadow over their allies in order to hide them or guard them from attack. Every shadow generated costs a portion of the Kagemusha's health pool, however should these decoys slay enemies or deal sufficient damage, they can return to the Kagemusha to restore their health. * Ashigaru - [Matchlock Firearms] - A ranged DPS class that utilizes matchlock firearms. Though it has a low firing rate compared to many if not all ranged classes, it boasts high damage per shot, and the highest critical damage of ranged classes. Despite being a ranged DPS class, it is frequently seen fighting in close quarters, only retreating to fire off their fatal shots. The Ashigaru also use matchlock handguns in these situations, with skills based around evasion and breaking armor. This class is also known to be a popular secondary, as the handguns can be used alongside any weapon that can be wielded with one hand. Non-Combat * Blacksmith - Though he doesn't delve a lot into crafting, he found himself making use of blacksmith frequently to maintain his weapons. He can craft new ones too, but for some reason the best weapons he can craft are all for his classes. Blacksmith as a profession is quite popular as people need or want new shiny gear all the time, and while he is not a reputed crafter, the katana that he can craft are of top quality... And nothing else. Other: * His character name Saito Souji is a combination of Hajime Saito and Okita Souji. * Kagemusha refers to a political term coined during the Sengoku period meaning "shadow warrior", and means to refer to body doubles, thus the protective nature of the class. * The coat he wears is obtained from PvP, and was a limited run at the time. Very few players have it. * He has a small player home in the eastern region.</s> <\|message\|>Sunohara Ryou Sunohara Ryou With maintenance all but finished and the newest expansion pack pre-downloaded, Ryou was more than ready to dive into Emerald Odyssey and start streaming. He had made sure that his setup was in perfect order the night before—triple-checked it, even—which left him precious little to worry about now. With a few people buzzing about in the pre-stream lobby, the young man was more than ready to greet his viewers and dive into the new content with everyone. The amount of congestion the servers had to face on patch day was oddly absent, though—a fact that struck Ryou as odd, but one that he chose not to question. After all, looking this sort of gift horse in the mouth was a bit rude, especially when it was most certaily in his favor. But as he moved to log in, his character selected and the loading splash screen appeared on his monitor... White. His vision was overwhelmed in an instant by something far beyond what any sort of monitor could produce normally. There was no time to react or respond, and before he could even make a single sound in response—— Shokatsu YuAluvera — Silverfield Inn "...Eh?" Blinding though that all-consuming white had been, the young man found that both it and any aftereffects that it might have left were nowhere to be found. While that might have been reason to breathe easy, it took no more than a few passing seconds for him to realize that something was most definitely wrong. After all, his computer and everything around it had been replaced by a simple wooden desk, and his room far less... 'Modern' than he last remembered. Though that oddity was at the forefront of his mind, nothing had truly quite processed yet—not until he got up and looked out the window. It was the middle of the afternoon when he had logged on, but with the amount of sunlight streaming through past the curtains, it felt more like early morning instead. Of course, even a single glance outside the window would cause things to start falling into place. He had read enough stories to understand what had happened, and though he was still unaware of exactly why something like this had happened, it was almost undeniable that the world outside was undoubtedly a locale he was incredibly familiar with despite not being anywhere in Japan—or on Earth, for that matter. "This has to be a joke, right?" Though still somewhat in denial despite how his voice sounded slightly off, Ryou glanced around once before walking into the washroom, clinging onto some faint hope that this was all some sort of last-moment fever dream. But when he splashed water on his face and glanced at himself in the mirror, that hope, too, came crashing down. After all, it was not the face of Sunohara Ryou looking at him, but that of Shokatsu Yu, his character. "...I guess not." Of course, it was not panic that overtook him immediately after; with a few deep breaths, Yu had shaken at least some of the chaos running through his head as he began to consider the implications of what his current position was. After all, with isekai settings having become so commonplace, it wasn't as if he was left without any direction to center his thoughts. "So I'm in the world of the game as the character I main. There was no indication of what the cause was, nor what will get me to return immediately..." he muttered to himself, flicking the water off of his face as he left the washroom, "...Which means that the first thing to determine is whether or not I'm the only one in this world now." Centered though his words may have been, though, Yu could feel his heart pounding as he promptly left the room and the inn proper; whether it was out of excitement or fear, even he couldn't quite tell. --- Aluvera — City Streets Clean though the air on the streets of Aluvera were (or, well, as clean as you could expect), the state of the actual city seemed to be... Less than orderly. There was nothing like rioting or havoc on the streets, but the amount of people clearly trying to process the situation was more than Yu could count. In this case, though, that was probably a good thing; after all, that meant that he wasn't alone here. The grander implications of that soon crossed his mind, though, and before long, Yu found himself walking through the city, trying to find someone—anyone—that he knew among the crowd. All the while, of course, the young man began to half-awkwardly fiddle with the empty air with his right hand, hoping that at least some part of the game beyond his current personage was carried over. After all, finding something as basic as an inventory or friends list would be astronomically helpful at a time like this...</s> <\|message\|>Takeyama Matsuo The fact that the servers were so clear was strange. Matsuo hadn't expected that. He'd managed to set aside time to try out the new expansion, but he really hadn't expected to be able to log in so easily. Much stranger, however, was the flash of white light that filled his vision almost as soon as the loading splash screen appeared. When it faded, the university student was in for a considerable shock. He was no longer in his room, in front of his computer. There was a wide street in front of him, blanked by various shops. Familiar shops. Shops from Emerald Odyssey. He'd logged off in the Aluvera shopping district. And now he appeared to be standing in it, surrounded by people going about their daily business. NPCs going about their daily business. Considerably more then filled the streets normally, but there was no mistaking his surroundings. "Am I dre-" Matsuo cut himself off, clutching at his throat. His skin felt soft and smooth. His neck felt slender. And his voice... That wasn't his voice. It was a girl's voice. That was absolutely a girl's voice. A cute, somewhat higher-pitched girl's voice. Shakily, the university student raised his hand harder, bringing both of them to his delicate chin and jaw, his soft cheeks, his dainty nose... running his hands through lengthy, silky blonde hair. This couldn't be real. Matsuo's heart was beating faster. His breathing was getting harder. "N-no way, right?" he asked himself, in that voice that didn't suit his real life self in the least, "I'm dreaming. I have to be. There's no way. I fell asleep waiting for the expansion to drop. That has to be it." Slowly, Matsuo located the nearest shopfront window. He had to see his reflection. He found one to the right side of the street. Looking back at him was the petite, slender figure of a small girl, with bright blue eyes and lengthy blonde hair. And pointed ears. In a blue Starlight Mage's outfit. Matsuo slowly placed a hand to her cheek and pinched herself. She didn't wake up. "No way no way no way no way," she repeated to herself multiple times, shaking, "This can't be real! I have... I have university to... how?! I... wh-what kind of isekai setup is this?! I-I'm Sefira?!" She took a step away from her reflection, her petite body shaking, blue eyes wide. There was no way something like this could ever happen. She felt certain of that. And yet this wasn't a dream. She felt pain. She felt a lot of things, the air on her skin, the ground beneath her feet, everything. There was no way it was a dream. Not only was Matsuo in Emerald Odyssey, but he had become his character, Sefira Sylvanbelle.</s>	<\|message\|>Itouchi Horiyama Saito Souji Aluvera - City Streets --- The sound of murmuring crowds both familiar and not so filled his ears, the bustling views of Aluvera were spread before him in a somewhat unfamiliar angle, and most importantly... He wasn't at home anymore. The immediate first thing he did in this situation was look around, before he'd start wandering. It would not be much longer than a dozen seconds before he'd notice the clothes he was in, what he was carrying, and then soon confirming his face in a glass window pane. He sighed, and then appeared to accept that this is what had indeed happened. He looked around and began to wander the city streets, and... It was possible this might have been some strange dream. There were many others who reacted in varying ways to what appeared to be the same situation, based on some exclamations. Characters he recognized as part of the city's population, NPCs, did not appear at all alarmed. Well, for the time being, he decided to get a handle on what was happening. By some miraculous feat, players were sent into Emerald Odyssey, all he remembered was logging in then looking away to grab his dinner. Not to mention, it seems people were now their characters too... He recalled hearing someone yell and reveal something to the extent that their character was not their gender. He looked down upon the two blades at his waist, so he is currently his main class Samurai. He was eager to see what this all meant for their skills and classes, but for now while he was here he should probably take stock of this situation as he continued to wander around Aluvera.</s>
<\|description\|>Itouchi Horiyama Character Name: Saito Souji Race: Human Age: 24 Personality: Itouchi is a somewhat reserved individual, as one might expect from a young Japanese man, however he has a particular sense of judgement. He is prone to making his own conclusions about other people, and while he may not act on those conclusions without further observation, he can break that rule should the person in question be of distaste to him. In particular, those who treat others horribly, who act in service of only themselves, or if they act childishly and waste people's time. Normally he would simply avoid them, but there are times when he may confront them if he believes that not doing so would seriously harm the group. Despite his rather strong sense of judgement, he's a friendly person, though perhaps due to being reserved, acts somewhat formally most of the time. There are times when around close friends he may act much less so, making more jokes and acting somewhat more carefree. Perhaps something one might notice is a particularly fondness for the Shinsengumi, and though it is not as obvious as it used to be, the leftovers of that more pronounced phase of his remain in his name. History: Itouchi like many young men graduating university, would find themselves applying for a company and then working there as a salaryman. He was rather fortunate to find a good company, having had a rather normal upbringing. It was this somewhat normal lifestyle combined with the more lonely lifestyle of a salaryman that perhaps pushed him towards Emerald Odyssey, seeking something a little more exciting between work days. He started playing roughly three or four years ago, and for the first few of those he became an accomplished raider, perhaps the very best for one of the expansions, but stopped after realizing the stress it was beginning to put him under. Though he is thankful for those years as it has shaped him into a more than competent player, both overall skill with the game, and when it comes to playing with other people which was a central component. From then on he normally just played the game with friends, only delving into difficult content on a casual basis. Class(es): * Samurai - [Katana] - A melee DPS class that utilizes a Katana. A swift and agile class boasting high critical rate and critical damage that aims to move through droves of enemies with very few strokes of the blade. As a drawback, their damage if they do not land a precise strike would be more than underwhelming, and defensive capabilities are nearly none, preferring to avoid blocking with their weapon. They have access to perhaps the fastest set of weapon skills called Battoujutsu, where the samurai may resheathe their weapon, gathering up their focus and spiritual energy before unleashing it in an impressive display of blinding speed. * Kagemusha - [Nodachi] - Meaning "shadow warrior", a tank class that utilizes a Nodachi. In particular they make use of shadowy decoys to gain the attention of the enemy and even confuse them, as well as creating veils of shadow over their allies in order to hide them or guard them from attack. Every shadow generated costs a portion of the Kagemusha's health pool, however should these decoys slay enemies or deal sufficient damage, they can return to the Kagemusha to restore their health. * Ashigaru - [Matchlock Firearms] - A ranged DPS class that utilizes matchlock firearms. Though it has a low firing rate compared to many if not all ranged classes, it boasts high damage per shot, and the highest critical damage of ranged classes. Despite being a ranged DPS class, it is frequently seen fighting in close quarters, only retreating to fire off their fatal shots. The Ashigaru also use matchlock handguns in these situations, with skills based around evasion and breaking armor. This class is also known to be a popular secondary, as the handguns can be used alongside any weapon that can be wielded with one hand. Non-Combat * Blacksmith - Though he doesn't delve a lot into crafting, he found himself making use of blacksmith frequently to maintain his weapons. He can craft new ones too, but for some reason the best weapons he can craft are all for his classes. Blacksmith as a profession is quite popular as people need or want new shiny gear all the time, and while he is not a reputed crafter, the katana that he can craft are of top quality... And nothing else. Other: * His character name Saito Souji is a combination of Hajime Saito and Okita Souji. * Kagemusha refers to a political term coined during the Sengoku period meaning "shadow warrior", and means to refer to body doubles, thus the protective nature of the class. * The coat he wears is obtained from PvP, and was a limited run at the time. Very few players have it. * He has a small player home in the eastern region.</s> <\|message\|>Character List Shokatsu YuAluvera — City Square "So that's how it's done, huh...?" There was a bit of relief in Yu's voice as he finally managed to pull up his character information, his gaze panning slightly to the side as the familiar menu popped up in his peripherals. Finagling with some invisible, possibly-extant hotbar had been unnecessary, it seemed; simply desiring for the relevant information to spring up had been sufficient. Of course, where one success was found, others followed suit, and the young man quickly cycled through half a dozen other menus—none of which seemed to be able to access the usual system configurations, of course—before he paused, an odd shadow slowly creeping over the skies above. Given how it had been broad daylight moments ago, the weather shifting spontaneously becoming overcast was by no means a good sign. As he closed the windows to give him back full control of his vision, Yu slowed to a halt as he—and more than a few others who had already begun to gather—turned their eyes skyward, only to see those clouds shift to a dark black. Any amount of hesitation in the air was promptly cut through as something immediately cut through the clouds from above, a gaping hole from which a single red light began falling—right onto the middle of the square. Those who were aware immediately began to move to make room for whatever was descending, and those who were not were promptly dragged away by the tides of people shifting to make room. Of course, no few number among them—Yu included—furtively drew their weapons in response. The fountain in the center of the square, it seemed, had been the unknown assailant's target, and its subsequent destruction as they landed threw stone dust and debris all over. When it had cleared, however, what was left behind in the rubble was a brown-haired man, his bronze-colored armor twisted and worn as he knelt upon the ruined earth. The pool of blood forming under him showed no such promising future, but what was more troublesome were his words soon after. "The gates... Have been opened..." Whether those words were meant as a warning or as a threat mattered little—at least, compared to the creatures flying out from the clouds unto the city. As far as Yu could tell, they seemed to be a mix of griffins, sphinxes, and harpies—none of which he was pleased to see—and were diving towards the city at an alarming rate. There only seemed to be a few dozen in total, thankfully enough, but that small number was still more than enough to lay siege to the city if left unchecked. As a massive sphinx swept down from the skies above to strike at him, though, Yu tumbled out of the way before looking back at the creature. Though he had no personal experience fighting with the weapon, it felt as if his body did. Hopefully that would actually mean something, given how it seemed to be moving around for seconds. With his blade at the ready, Yu took a deep breath and focused his gaze upon the monster before moving into a more proper battle stance, his sword pointed forward as he struck out at its' wings in hopes of equalizing the battlefield——!</s> <\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Myrtle Bramblewood Myrtle's eyes wandered all over as she made her way outside with her maid. Everything, down to the tiniest detail, was similar to the mansion she had in game. She had pictures of certain NPCs hanging on her walls, NPCs she was quite fond with when she did her story quests with them. She also had all sorts of expensive furniture, paid by the income she got from her potion-making venture. The marble floor was clean, so much so she could see her own reflection on its surface. Ooh, this is amazing! Opening the oaken door, her maid beckoned for her to hurry. "Yes yes, I'm coming!" She hastened her pace. The moment she stepped outside, she was greeted by a pleasant breeze. Her dress fluttered in the wind as she gawked at her surroundings. Wow, this is it! This is Sen Rynta! Sen Rynta — the floating city in the clouds. It was the city she had chosen to be her homebase. Who wouldn't? It was easily the most beautiful city out of all of them. When she had enough money to purchase a mansion in the city's upper class district, she did it in a heartbeat. Beyond the entrance was a small plot of land acting as a garden. And further away was the front gate, leading into the city proper. "Shall we walk or shall I fetch the carriage, Milady?" "Umm, we'll walk! This is a really nice morning! We shouldn't be cooped up inside a carriage!" Azure took the lead, with Myrtle following behind, still looking around in a daze, with the latter nearly tripping in the process, thanks to a stray vine that had grown in the cobblestone road she walked upon. Hmm, now I wonder… if the game is now like real life, does that mean the cities are a lot bigger? I mean, a city can't just be a couple of screens in real life after all… Yep, I think I should just stick with Azure. I know how to get to the park from here but if the city's layout has changed, that's a different matter entirely. -------- Myrtle's trip through the city was enlightening, to say the least. She learned that it wasn't only her that was transported to this world. Other players of the game had been forced to be their characters as well. Some panicked, yelling at each other for the unbelievable event that had occurred to them. Others were a lot more joyful, quickly embracing their new bodies, with some of the females openly exposing and groping themselves out in the open. Hmph, she scoffed. They were clearly guys who played female characters. And now that they had female bodies, they were free to fondle themselves as much as they wanted. She was normally okay with guys doing that but not when they did perverted stuff like this. Had they no shame? Since they were girls now, they should know better than to do that kind of thing in public! Eventually, they arrived at the park. Normally, it was a popular place for players to AFK in, so she believed it would be the ideal place to scope things out. And sure enough, there were a horde of players there, forming a crowd in the middle of the green field. "Azure, stay here for a bit." "Miss, aren't we going to—" It was too late for the maid. Her mistress had already run away, heading straight into said crowd. A frown appeared on Azure's face. At this rate, their food was going to get cold!</s>	<\|message\|>Itouchi Horiyama Saito Souji Aluvera - City Square --- The screeches of a few harpies cried overhead as a few running citizens scampered away in fear for their lives. One of which tripped and fell, a young child by the looks of it as the harpy talons borne swooped in, the child would recoil in fear for the inevitable, yet... It did not come. A flutter of feathers followed by the multiple thuds as something fell from the air. The boy would open their eyes and see a black cloaked man holding a katana in between them. One look from the man and the child slowly got up, before being ushered away by their parent. "How curious, my body appears to simply move if I want to use my skills", he said to himself, as he made his way towards the city's square. Although... A monster attack in a sanctuary area, this was most certainly not part of the normal game, and the way the NPCs had reacted were far too advanced to be a scripted event, he had some knowledge of how games should work and... The technology should not be at this level yet. As he slowly made his way towards the city square, he had the opportunity to test out his techniques and get a feeling for fighting. Given where they were, and assuming it was all 'real'... Fighting would be inevitable, made very apparent by this event. He can think about what has happened later, he thought to himself. He soon found himself at the heart of the commotion, and there were already some people here fighting. Griffons and Sphinxes were present, a much greater foe than harpies. Given the strength of these enemies he should pick an enemy already being engaged with, and end them as soon as possible. He looked around and saw another swordsman charging at a Sphinx, and took it upon himself to assist him. Taking his katana in two hands he charged forward, "Myoujingiri!" He began to move quickly before disappearing into a blur, a flurry of slashes would make themselves visible followed by streaks of light lined up against the front legs and neck in various arrays, before he finally appeared at the front of the Sphinx. There was no tank holding the Sphinx's attention, and knowing that he aimed to end it as soon as he could.</s>
<\|description\|>Itouchi Horiyama Character Name: Saito Souji Race: Human Age: 24 Personality: Itouchi is a somewhat reserved individual, as one might expect from a young Japanese man, however he has a particular sense of judgement. He is prone to making his own conclusions about other people, and while he may not act on those conclusions without further observation, he can break that rule should the person in question be of distaste to him. In particular, those who treat others horribly, who act in service of only themselves, or if they act childishly and waste people's time. Normally he would simply avoid them, but there are times when he may confront them if he believes that not doing so would seriously harm the group. Despite his rather strong sense of judgement, he's a friendly person, though perhaps due to being reserved, acts somewhat formally most of the time. There are times when around close friends he may act much less so, making more jokes and acting somewhat more carefree. Perhaps something one might notice is a particularly fondness for the Shinsengumi, and though it is not as obvious as it used to be, the leftovers of that more pronounced phase of his remain in his name. History: Itouchi like many young men graduating university, would find themselves applying for a company and then working there as a salaryman. He was rather fortunate to find a good company, having had a rather normal upbringing. It was this somewhat normal lifestyle combined with the more lonely lifestyle of a salaryman that perhaps pushed him towards Emerald Odyssey, seeking something a little more exciting between work days. He started playing roughly three or four years ago, and for the first few of those he became an accomplished raider, perhaps the very best for one of the expansions, but stopped after realizing the stress it was beginning to put him under. Though he is thankful for those years as it has shaped him into a more than competent player, both overall skill with the game, and when it comes to playing with other people which was a central component. From then on he normally just played the game with friends, only delving into difficult content on a casual basis. Class(es): * Samurai - [Katana] - A melee DPS class that utilizes a Katana. A swift and agile class boasting high critical rate and critical damage that aims to move through droves of enemies with very few strokes of the blade. As a drawback, their damage if they do not land a precise strike would be more than underwhelming, and defensive capabilities are nearly none, preferring to avoid blocking with their weapon. They have access to perhaps the fastest set of weapon skills called Battoujutsu, where the samurai may resheathe their weapon, gathering up their focus and spiritual energy before unleashing it in an impressive display of blinding speed. * Kagemusha - [Nodachi] - Meaning "shadow warrior", a tank class that utilizes a Nodachi. In particular they make use of shadowy decoys to gain the attention of the enemy and even confuse them, as well as creating veils of shadow over their allies in order to hide them or guard them from attack. Every shadow generated costs a portion of the Kagemusha's health pool, however should these decoys slay enemies or deal sufficient damage, they can return to the Kagemusha to restore their health. * Ashigaru - [Matchlock Firearms] - A ranged DPS class that utilizes matchlock firearms. Though it has a low firing rate compared to many if not all ranged classes, it boasts high damage per shot, and the highest critical damage of ranged classes. Despite being a ranged DPS class, it is frequently seen fighting in close quarters, only retreating to fire off their fatal shots. The Ashigaru also use matchlock handguns in these situations, with skills based around evasion and breaking armor. This class is also known to be a popular secondary, as the handguns can be used alongside any weapon that can be wielded with one hand. Non-Combat * Blacksmith - Though he doesn't delve a lot into crafting, he found himself making use of blacksmith frequently to maintain his weapons. He can craft new ones too, but for some reason the best weapons he can craft are all for his classes. Blacksmith as a profession is quite popular as people need or want new shiny gear all the time, and while he is not a reputed crafter, the katana that he can craft are of top quality... And nothing else. Other: * His character name Saito Souji is a combination of Hajime Saito and Okita Souji. * Kagemusha refers to a political term coined during the Sengoku period meaning "shadow warrior", and means to refer to body doubles, thus the protective nature of the class. * The coat he wears is obtained from PvP, and was a limited run at the time. Very few players have it. * He has a small player home in the eastern region.</s> <\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Myrtle Bramblewood Sen Rynta — Wellspring Park Oh no, it doesn't work! Myrtle could only watch with exasperation as one by one, the adventurers she had made her passionate speech to left. Aah, my charisma check failed! I knew I shouldn't have done that! In the end, only a small portion of them remained. And she wasn't sure whether they were there because they agreed with her words or they were simply curious to see the conclusion to the incident. And then the Titan woman spoke, insulting her heartfelt plea to the masses. How dare she! "H-hey, I was just trying to help! I'm not like you who hit a man just because he stared!" Oh, she was not going to let her have the high ground! The Titan woman then walked away, seemingly done with the conversation. "Yeah, that's right! Keep running!" Myrtle smirked, folding her arms in a victory pose. She won the argument! Why else would she leave? Now, only two men remained — the PC the woman argued with and the NPC who was still out cold on the ground. "Hmm, you got a point." Myrtle tilted her head. "Well, let's test it!" She clasped her hands together and smiled. "We have a live NPC here after all!" She walked over to the unconscious man and crouched, before shaking his body back and forth. "Hey, Mister! Wake up! You're not dead, are you? Oh, please tell me you're not! Or else I've been touching a corpse and that's just… eww!" "Miss, is something the matter?" She looked up and saw that Azure had opted to approach her. It seemed she wasn't content in just staying back and letting her mistress be involved in whatever situation was happening right now. Oh, what an adorable, loyal maid! There's no way she cannot be sapient! She acts like a real maid perfectly! Myrtle stood up and rested her hand on her shoulder. "Look! Here's my maid, Azure! Azure, tell him that you're perfectly sapient, just like me and him!" The maid cocked her head to the side. "Excuse me, Miss? Whatever do you mean?" "Sapient! It means you're a thinking, knowing being! Look, just introduce yourself to him!" Myrtle pointed at the standing man. "Tell him your backstory while you're at it! Your past before you work for me!" The maid turned to look in his direction. She sighed. She had no idea what her mistress was thinking. Still, if it was her order, then it would only be proper for her to do it. "Greetings." She gave a curtsy. "My name is Azure. Azure McMillon. I was born as a daughter of a prostitute, before being sold off to a servant agency where I took my lessons in this occupation. When I was of age, and ready to work as a maid, I was purchased by my mistress here." Myrtle's smile vanished. Wait, what did she just say? That backstory… that wasn't in the game at all! And it was so dark too! She was born as a prostitute's daughter and then sold off as a child slave by her own mother! And then I— I… I… Oh God… I had bought a slave!</s> <\|message\|>Kosame Ariyoshi Kokoma Aluvera - City Streets --- Kokoma would heft the spear over her shoulder, the banner tied to it waving gently as she would watch the harpies meet their demise. The blast of magical energy was quite impressive. So the little elf was a mage, huh? Kokoma would then walk up to the harpy, smiling in a fairly...overly friendly manner as she'd twirl the spear, and whack the harpy on the butt with the hilt of the spear. "Go on, get outta here! Attack this place again and well...ehehe, I suppose having another harpy as my pet would be fun~" She might have under other circumstances, made an attempt to befriend or 'tame' the harpy, as it were, but for now she just wanted to figure out what was going on other than well...being attacked by monsters and what not. So after delivering that ultimatum to the harpy, the Shenke would turn back towards Sefira. "Wah...heey, you're actually pretty awesome, huuuh~?" Kokoma would walk over to Sefira. "Dunno why you were so nervous." That just left what else to do now, though. She supposed she should go after the harpies, huh? Didn't want them to get away...well, luckily she could easily chase after them, couldn't she? "What'cha gonna do now?" Kokoma would ask as she'd watch the harpies flee. Lets see...normally in game 'calling' her mounts was done with just a skill, and the animation of a whistle...so maybe if... Whatever Sefira would respond with, Kokoma would put her hand to her lips, a sharp, high pitched whistle echoing through the area...a few seconds would pass, before one could hear the sound of...hoofbeats? Well, not really hooves, but it was close. From down the street, Sefira could perhaps see something a bit odd. More monsters? A large, horse like creature covered in tough, hard leathery skin and a rocky hide. Kokoma didn't seem too concerned as it'd run up, nearly knocking over Sefira as it'd run up to Kokoma and start nuzzling her. "Wah-H-hey down boy! Ahaha, so you are here!" The monster would huff affirmatively. "Tatl and Teel doing alright?" Another huff of confirmation. "Great! Anyways," She'd hop onto the monsters back with a surprisingly swift motion. She would then, look down to Sefira with a grin and hold out a hand. "I can give ya a ride, but the fee is gonna be your name~"</s> <\|message\|>Takeyama Matsuo This girl seriously didn't take a single thing seriously, did she? Still... her spell had really worked. Only one of the harpies had gotten away. Sefira couldn't help but be proud of the fact she'd actually executed one of her spells. Only now it was real. Maybe that was a silver lining? She was physically a completely different person, but she was also capable of doing magic. Seeing one of the other player's beasts suddenly charge up and nearly in real life was a bit of a shock, too, and the petite elf found herself reflexively clutching her staff in both hands, tensing for a few moments as she leaped back with a yelp. "H-hey!" Realizing how irrational it was to be scared of the beast given it belonged to Kokoma, Sefira took a deep breath and forced herself to relax a little. At least, as much as she could knowing there were so many monsters around. Where had they all come from, anyway? Back when Emeral Odyssey was just a game, something like this never would have happened out of the blue. "W-we should probably try and fend off the monsters, we can't just sit and do nothing..." commented Sefira as she stepped forward. The other player wanted her name in exchange for a ride? "Hmph, fine," she began, looking away, "Takeyama Mats-" Realizing she almost said her full, real, masculine name, the blonde girl froze for a moment. There was no way letting this girl know that was a good idea. Hoping that Kokoma didn't hear her properly, Sefira cleared her throat. "Sylvanbelle. Sefira Sylvanbelle." @PKMNB0Y</s>	<\|message\|>Itouchi Horiyama Saito Souji Aluvera - Alleyway --- The battle seemed to go apace, he found himself chasing down a few monsters in the course the chaos, though for the most part it seemed those who could not defend themselves were out of harm's way, and the battle had approached a point where it was time to clean up, though curiously he found himself in an alleyway. There were people here, hiding. Though it did not seem at all unusual, at first, but then he recognized one of the game's story NPCs here going about healing those who had run here. It was strange to see them acting on their own like this when he was used to them standing around waiting for interaction, especially when they approached the newcomers. He listened to her talk and... "Before the battle...?", that was a curious detail, one he muttered to himself. Did this mean she would depart as soon as this was over? There were a myriad of questions he wanted to ask, such as why they were here, who the attacker was, what was going on, why this was no longer a game... The last one though may best be investigated instead. He doubted that these characters would know. "Alright, then I suppose I should ask about this attack. Who was that, and why have they attacked?", he asked.</s>
<\|description\|>Itouchi Horiyama Character Name: Saito Souji Race: Human Age: 24 Personality: Itouchi is a somewhat reserved individual, as one might expect from a young Japanese man, however he has a particular sense of judgement. He is prone to making his own conclusions about other people, and while he may not act on those conclusions without further observation, he can break that rule should the person in question be of distaste to him. In particular, those who treat others horribly, who act in service of only themselves, or if they act childishly and waste people's time. Normally he would simply avoid them, but there are times when he may confront them if he believes that not doing so would seriously harm the group. Despite his rather strong sense of judgement, he's a friendly person, though perhaps due to being reserved, acts somewhat formally most of the time. There are times when around close friends he may act much less so, making more jokes and acting somewhat more carefree. Perhaps something one might notice is a particularly fondness for the Shinsengumi, and though it is not as obvious as it used to be, the leftovers of that more pronounced phase of his remain in his name. History: Itouchi like many young men graduating university, would find themselves applying for a company and then working there as a salaryman. He was rather fortunate to find a good company, having had a rather normal upbringing. It was this somewhat normal lifestyle combined with the more lonely lifestyle of a salaryman that perhaps pushed him towards Emerald Odyssey, seeking something a little more exciting between work days. He started playing roughly three or four years ago, and for the first few of those he became an accomplished raider, perhaps the very best for one of the expansions, but stopped after realizing the stress it was beginning to put him under. Though he is thankful for those years as it has shaped him into a more than competent player, both overall skill with the game, and when it comes to playing with other people which was a central component. From then on he normally just played the game with friends, only delving into difficult content on a casual basis. Class(es): * Samurai - [Katana] - A melee DPS class that utilizes a Katana. A swift and agile class boasting high critical rate and critical damage that aims to move through droves of enemies with very few strokes of the blade. As a drawback, their damage if they do not land a precise strike would be more than underwhelming, and defensive capabilities are nearly none, preferring to avoid blocking with their weapon. They have access to perhaps the fastest set of weapon skills called Battoujutsu, where the samurai may resheathe their weapon, gathering up their focus and spiritual energy before unleashing it in an impressive display of blinding speed. * Kagemusha - [Nodachi] - Meaning "shadow warrior", a tank class that utilizes a Nodachi. In particular they make use of shadowy decoys to gain the attention of the enemy and even confuse them, as well as creating veils of shadow over their allies in order to hide them or guard them from attack. Every shadow generated costs a portion of the Kagemusha's health pool, however should these decoys slay enemies or deal sufficient damage, they can return to the Kagemusha to restore their health. * Ashigaru - [Matchlock Firearms] - A ranged DPS class that utilizes matchlock firearms. Though it has a low firing rate compared to many if not all ranged classes, it boasts high damage per shot, and the highest critical damage of ranged classes. Despite being a ranged DPS class, it is frequently seen fighting in close quarters, only retreating to fire off their fatal shots. The Ashigaru also use matchlock handguns in these situations, with skills based around evasion and breaking armor. This class is also known to be a popular secondary, as the handguns can be used alongside any weapon that can be wielded with one hand. Non-Combat * Blacksmith - Though he doesn't delve a lot into crafting, he found himself making use of blacksmith frequently to maintain his weapons. He can craft new ones too, but for some reason the best weapons he can craft are all for his classes. Blacksmith as a profession is quite popular as people need or want new shiny gear all the time, and while he is not a reputed crafter, the katana that he can craft are of top quality... And nothing else. Other: * His character name Saito Souji is a combination of Hajime Saito and Okita Souji. * Kagemusha refers to a political term coined during the Sengoku period meaning "shadow warrior", and means to refer to body doubles, thus the protective nature of the class. * The coat he wears is obtained from PvP, and was a limited run at the time. Very few players have it. * He has a small player home in the eastern region.</s> <\|message\|>Akira Sakai Nova --- --- "The other problem being us, huh," Nova raised her brows, somewhere between offended and amused. "Well, you're right we should take care of this guy first, though," she agreed with a light shrug. She glanced at the player who struggled with bringing the man to his feet, slinging him across a shoulder. "Here, let me," she offered, going around so as to help support him from the other side. "I'm Nova, by the way." There was little chatter on the way, and it was kind of slow going, given two of them had to drag an unconscious person between them. Nova rubbernecked around as much as she could, marveling at how expanded, how real the city was now. It took a few minutes before they made it to a deserted street, and to an unknown house. Whether it was Windstar's home, or merely a temporary safe house was unknown. It was inconspicuous, but was fairly normal. A silent elf butler helped them take the unconscious man downstairs at Eunice's direction. It was kind of awkward to do that without a stretcher, but they managed. Then, they returned to the first floor, sat around, and Windstar told her tale. "An empty void," she muttered thoughtfully, thinking of those guards' reactions who'd thought her mentally unstable. "A drive to know?" she scoffed. "Didn't you say earlier you had to protect that man from being questioned?" she asked dubiously. Nova didn't mistrust Eunice per say, but did find it strange she'd trusted them as easily, given everything. "You're right I won't go telling others, though," she confirmed with a head shake. It'd be way too troublesome trying to spread this, and would cause chaos, anyways. But if she found trustworthy others though…Well, at least she could bring them to Eunice – unless the woman wouldn't be available, of course. Curious about that point, she asked, "Do you already have any plans what you'll do, or do you intend to decide after we tell you what we do?" Regardless of Eunice's answer, Nova would nod, and say, "Alright, then." "You said you wanted to know our side of things, huh. Well…We're basically people from another world, and this," she motioned with an arm around them, "all of this, the whole world here, was just a game to us. A digital game based on a computer program – no magic involved, just technology. "And before you ask, no, it's not normal from our side of things to be able to travel to different worlds, technology or no. We had no magic – it wasn't considered real, there was no evidence for it. Sure, people believed in deities, or spirits, or the afterlife, but it was all personal belief, you know? There were no spells of the kind you can find here. Oh, and we were all humans," self-consciously, she tugged at her wolf ears, "so this is a bit of a change." "But, yeah, no dice on the why. We don't even know how this could have happened. It shouldn't have been possible based on what we know of our world," Nova concluded.</s> <\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Luna Myrtle Bramblewood Sen Rynta — Wellspring Park Hmm? What's this? A new character just entered the fray? She seemed to be a knight, judging by that armor. A Paladin, perhaps? So she's a PC. And she's healing the man! Ooh, that's great! Someone does listen to my speech back there! Though thinking about it, I could've given him one of my healing potions. Oops, I completely forgot I could do that. Once the Paladin stood back up, however, she gave Myrtle an unsolicited advice. And she wasn't sure if she liked said advice. "Dangerous? I don't think there's anything dangerous about what's going on here." Myrtle folded her hands under her chest with a confident smile. "I can hold my own in a fight. Oh, and thank you, by the way, for healing him. Now that we're stuck in this world, we really should start treating these NPCs better." She then reached her hand towards the paladin. "The name's Myrtle Bramblewood. Pleased to meet you, Miss."</s>	<\|message\|>Itouchi Horiyama Saito Souji Aluvera - Alleyway --- Certainly, it did not feel right to just be gallivanting off while fighting was going on outside, although given the circumstances, getting answers seemed to be priority, at least to everyone present. The explanation given was not substantial in his opinion, nothing said was unable to be gleamed from just looking around, or witnessing the spectacle prior. The answer given whether or not the young girl knew them or not was rather cryptic, and only raised more questions. In times like these, perhaps going along with the events was the better course of action, and it seemed to be the way everyone here was going to go. "Hmmmm... Well, I suppose I'll also play along. It seems there's more to this than just some 'attack' on a town", one that was a sanctuary no less, it seems the world did not abide by the rules of the game anymore, that much was already certain. Only thing not understood was to what extent... As the talking went on he quickly summed it up cutting towards the end of a long-winded explanation. "Basically, to cut it short, we know nothing. We woke up and ended up in a game we play frequently. It may seem strange for us to call your world a game but that is just how it is... Or rather, was. We were hoping to get answers from you instead", he explained.</s>
<\|description\|>Itouchi Horiyama Character Name: Saito Souji Race: Human Age: 24 Personality: Itouchi is a somewhat reserved individual, as one might expect from a young Japanese man, however he has a particular sense of judgement. He is prone to making his own conclusions about other people, and while he may not act on those conclusions without further observation, he can break that rule should the person in question be of distaste to him. In particular, those who treat others horribly, who act in service of only themselves, or if they act childishly and waste people's time. Normally he would simply avoid them, but there are times when he may confront them if he believes that not doing so would seriously harm the group. Despite his rather strong sense of judgement, he's a friendly person, though perhaps due to being reserved, acts somewhat formally most of the time. There are times when around close friends he may act much less so, making more jokes and acting somewhat more carefree. Perhaps something one might notice is a particularly fondness for the Shinsengumi, and though it is not as obvious as it used to be, the leftovers of that more pronounced phase of his remain in his name. History: Itouchi like many young men graduating university, would find themselves applying for a company and then working there as a salaryman. He was rather fortunate to find a good company, having had a rather normal upbringing. It was this somewhat normal lifestyle combined with the more lonely lifestyle of a salaryman that perhaps pushed him towards Emerald Odyssey, seeking something a little more exciting between work days. He started playing roughly three or four years ago, and for the first few of those he became an accomplished raider, perhaps the very best for one of the expansions, but stopped after realizing the stress it was beginning to put him under. Though he is thankful for those years as it has shaped him into a more than competent player, both overall skill with the game, and when it comes to playing with other people which was a central component. From then on he normally just played the game with friends, only delving into difficult content on a casual basis. Class(es): * Samurai - [Katana] - A melee DPS class that utilizes a Katana. A swift and agile class boasting high critical rate and critical damage that aims to move through droves of enemies with very few strokes of the blade. As a drawback, their damage if they do not land a precise strike would be more than underwhelming, and defensive capabilities are nearly none, preferring to avoid blocking with their weapon. They have access to perhaps the fastest set of weapon skills called Battoujutsu, where the samurai may resheathe their weapon, gathering up their focus and spiritual energy before unleashing it in an impressive display of blinding speed. * Kagemusha - [Nodachi] - Meaning "shadow warrior", a tank class that utilizes a Nodachi. In particular they make use of shadowy decoys to gain the attention of the enemy and even confuse them, as well as creating veils of shadow over their allies in order to hide them or guard them from attack. Every shadow generated costs a portion of the Kagemusha's health pool, however should these decoys slay enemies or deal sufficient damage, they can return to the Kagemusha to restore their health. * Ashigaru - [Matchlock Firearms] - A ranged DPS class that utilizes matchlock firearms. Though it has a low firing rate compared to many if not all ranged classes, it boasts high damage per shot, and the highest critical damage of ranged classes. Despite being a ranged DPS class, it is frequently seen fighting in close quarters, only retreating to fire off their fatal shots. The Ashigaru also use matchlock handguns in these situations, with skills based around evasion and breaking armor. This class is also known to be a popular secondary, as the handguns can be used alongside any weapon that can be wielded with one hand. Non-Combat * Blacksmith - Though he doesn't delve a lot into crafting, he found himself making use of blacksmith frequently to maintain his weapons. He can craft new ones too, but for some reason the best weapons he can craft are all for his classes. Blacksmith as a profession is quite popular as people need or want new shiny gear all the time, and while he is not a reputed crafter, the katana that he can craft are of top quality... And nothing else. Other: * His character name Saito Souji is a combination of Hajime Saito and Okita Souji. * Kagemusha refers to a political term coined during the Sengoku period meaning "shadow warrior", and means to refer to body doubles, thus the protective nature of the class. * The coat he wears is obtained from PvP, and was a limited run at the time. Very few players have it. * He has a small player home in the eastern region.</s> <\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Myrtle Bramblewood Sen Rynta — Wellspring Park "Thank you!" Myrtle clasped her hands with excitement when she heard the Belva's reply. "Then, I'll send my contacts right now!" She opened her menu with a swipe of her finger (for some reason it just came naturally to her, even though this was her second time doing so). Traversing to contacts, she then sent a friend request to the Belva. But since she no longer had a mouse to click on him, she had to aim the floating box towards him. Only to find that she was beaten by his request by a microsecond. "Oh, dammit!" She cursed under her breath. Only one person was needed to initiate a friend request after all. The other side could just accept and both persons would receive the others' names in their contacts. Of course, once the confirmation box appeared, she pressed the "Yes" button. With a satisfying click, his name then appeared on her contact list. Really? Mini Marcher? That's cute. She stifled a giggle. Speaking of that, she scrolled through the names, finding that many of her usual acquaintances were marked as "Online". They were her fellow crafters, her frequent customers, and the gatherers she bought material from. She considered for a second to send a message to them but put it off for later once she had returned to her mansion. Not that she would have a chance to do so anyway, thanks to the paladin's arrival.</s> <\|message\|>Agaue Selinofoto Agaue Selinofoto Miura Yui Location: Sen Rynta - Wellspring Park @PKMNB0Y --- --- Yui stared at the hand that outreached towards her. "The name's Myrtle Bramblewood. Pleased to meet you, Miss.", spoke the young Human. There must be an unspoken etiquette to use in-game usernames. Not that she had any qualms about using her real life name, but in another way, it felt nice. "Agaue. Agaue Selinofoto." Yui responded, firmly shaking Myrtle's hand, like it was a business greeting. Yui glanced at the Belva, who - from his stance - seemed to not want to interfere. Fine by her. Yui was not evangelistic, nor it was of her mind to be associated with the drama that unfolded earlier. However, it did not mean she was not concerned for her safety. One look, and Yui knew that Myrtle had no combat experience whatsoever. Turning her back to them, Yui looked to the bright blue sky, closing her eyes as she felt the slight breeze of the wind, explaining, "It was dangerous. I do not know how long you have been stuck inside this game, assuming you're a player as well-". Her armour rattled as Yui faced the trio again, the sun made her a glowing figure. "I'd be more aware of your new reality." Yui folded her arms, but her face remains as straight as ever. After hearing Myrtle - if she had any thing else to say, Yui asked, "What are your plans now?". Yui needed to see the state of affairs, of the world. There were things to be addressed, and Yui knew that she had to get to the bottom of this mysterious summoning. If they wanted to come along, so be it. If they needed help, so she would, as long as it led her to the cause of her buzzing intuitions.</s> <\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Myrtle Bramblewood Sen Rynta — Wellspring Park "Ooh, Agaue Selinofoto! That's a cool, if not a little bit weird name!" Myrtle moved her hands up and down with excitement as she shook hers. "My name is straight up plain compared to yours!" Whoa! She's glowing! Is it just a trick of the eye or is it her Paladin magic? I don't remember any Paladin skills that can do that though. "Oh, don't be such a worrywart!" Myrtle released her hand, still smiling. "I'm a max level Weather Mage! Just because I don't have my staff out doesn't mean I don't know how to fight!" She opened her inventory and equipped the staff, materializing the weapon right at the perfect angle for her to snatch. She slammed its iron tip to the ground before giving it a twirl, ending by throwing it mid-air and aiming it towards the paladin. Yes, for some reason, she could perfectly manipulate the staff to her liking without clumsily dropping it like she had expected. It probably came from the class, she told herself. "Here! Let me show you my magic even! I can't use the big stuff in a place like this but a simple tornado should suffice." To be honest, she didn't know how she was supposed to use her spells. She didn't have any buttons to press. Not in this new world. So all she could think of was just to imagine the spell she wanted as she lifted her staff. "Tornado!" Hey, maybe yelling it would help too. To her amazement, the spell triggered. Wind began to sword rapidly above her, forming a small whirlwind visible to the naked eye. She had placed it mid-air quite a way above where they stood so they were safe from its sucking effect. Still, the swirling wind was strong enough to make the trees around them bend and sway. Her dress and hair followed suit, as well as any cloaks and skirts of both PCs and NPCs in the area. It seemed unlike in the game, non-hostile NPCs were still affected by PC's spells. "See? I wasn't lying! That Tornado over there is the max-level version! Not the silly breeze the low level version was!" She lowered her staff, and with it, the spell disappeared. "So if anything happens, I think I can handle it just fine!" She grinned, putting her left hand on her waist. "As for my plans, I think I'm going to invite my friends for a gathering or sorts. See if we can share info with each other. I have a mansion in this city, you see, perfect for such an event. Oh, you can come if you want!"</s>	<\|message\|>Itouchi Horiyama Saito Souji Aluvera - Alleyway --- Saito pursed his lips in one hand while fiddling with the menu in the other... He remembered he saw that people were accessing the menu prior to the attack, which was worth a check. From the looks of it, most personal functions were fine, in fact he can even view some of his skills. However, he accessed the travel menus out of interest, when the young lady had mentioned other states and other areas of the game. For the most part, he was able to see what the locations were by name, but just about every option there was completely grayed out. This might as well had simply been a glorified map function. He turned back to the conversation as it reached about mentioning the man who appeared before, along with the monsters he brought about. Things were beginning to settle outside, and she asked the group for their choice. As much as he'd like to stay in Aluvera... He had a load of questions that he doubted other players could answer. There was much they should worry about, such as how life would work, assuming this goes into long term, but he was not a settler by any means. He often wandered around when he played the game too, so he felt it was not too different a choice here. "Hmmmm. I have many questions, regarding why we're all here, and I feel that your quest may yield us some answers. I think I will join you then, at least for a time", he answered rather succinctly and precisely what he felt. He had no attachments to the other players around here, so he had little reason to stick around.</s>
<\|description\|>Itouchi Horiyama Character Name: Saito Souji Race: Human Age: 24 Personality: Itouchi is a somewhat reserved individual, as one might expect from a young Japanese man, however he has a particular sense of judgement. He is prone to making his own conclusions about other people, and while he may not act on those conclusions without further observation, he can break that rule should the person in question be of distaste to him. In particular, those who treat others horribly, who act in service of only themselves, or if they act childishly and waste people's time. Normally he would simply avoid them, but there are times when he may confront them if he believes that not doing so would seriously harm the group. Despite his rather strong sense of judgement, he's a friendly person, though perhaps due to being reserved, acts somewhat formally most of the time. There are times when around close friends he may act much less so, making more jokes and acting somewhat more carefree. Perhaps something one might notice is a particularly fondness for the Shinsengumi, and though it is not as obvious as it used to be, the leftovers of that more pronounced phase of his remain in his name. History: Itouchi like many young men graduating university, would find themselves applying for a company and then working there as a salaryman. He was rather fortunate to find a good company, having had a rather normal upbringing. It was this somewhat normal lifestyle combined with the more lonely lifestyle of a salaryman that perhaps pushed him towards Emerald Odyssey, seeking something a little more exciting between work days. He started playing roughly three or four years ago, and for the first few of those he became an accomplished raider, perhaps the very best for one of the expansions, but stopped after realizing the stress it was beginning to put him under. Though he is thankful for those years as it has shaped him into a more than competent player, both overall skill with the game, and when it comes to playing with other people which was a central component. From then on he normally just played the game with friends, only delving into difficult content on a casual basis. Class(es): * Samurai - [Katana] - A melee DPS class that utilizes a Katana. A swift and agile class boasting high critical rate and critical damage that aims to move through droves of enemies with very few strokes of the blade. As a drawback, their damage if they do not land a precise strike would be more than underwhelming, and defensive capabilities are nearly none, preferring to avoid blocking with their weapon. They have access to perhaps the fastest set of weapon skills called Battoujutsu, where the samurai may resheathe their weapon, gathering up their focus and spiritual energy before unleashing it in an impressive display of blinding speed. * Kagemusha - [Nodachi] - Meaning "shadow warrior", a tank class that utilizes a Nodachi. In particular they make use of shadowy decoys to gain the attention of the enemy and even confuse them, as well as creating veils of shadow over their allies in order to hide them or guard them from attack. Every shadow generated costs a portion of the Kagemusha's health pool, however should these decoys slay enemies or deal sufficient damage, they can return to the Kagemusha to restore their health. * Ashigaru - [Matchlock Firearms] - A ranged DPS class that utilizes matchlock firearms. Though it has a low firing rate compared to many if not all ranged classes, it boasts high damage per shot, and the highest critical damage of ranged classes. Despite being a ranged DPS class, it is frequently seen fighting in close quarters, only retreating to fire off their fatal shots. The Ashigaru also use matchlock handguns in these situations, with skills based around evasion and breaking armor. This class is also known to be a popular secondary, as the handguns can be used alongside any weapon that can be wielded with one hand. Non-Combat * Blacksmith - Though he doesn't delve a lot into crafting, he found himself making use of blacksmith frequently to maintain his weapons. He can craft new ones too, but for some reason the best weapons he can craft are all for his classes. Blacksmith as a profession is quite popular as people need or want new shiny gear all the time, and while he is not a reputed crafter, the katana that he can craft are of top quality... And nothing else. Other: * His character name Saito Souji is a combination of Hajime Saito and Okita Souji. * Kagemusha refers to a political term coined during the Sengoku period meaning "shadow warrior", and means to refer to body doubles, thus the protective nature of the class. * The coat he wears is obtained from PvP, and was a limited run at the time. Very few players have it. * He has a small player home in the eastern region.</s> <\|message\|>Agaue Selinofoto Agaue Selinofoto Miura Yui Location: Sen Rynta - Wellspring Park --- --- "Tornado!" Yui began to brace herself to the ground as soon as Myrtle excitedly chanted a spell. Surprisingly, the wind wasn't as strong as she thought it would be, or rather, it was placed away that made them safe from its pull. When it dissipated, Yui remained speechless. Even when the Belva bid his farewells, Yui did not move. Only staring at the two, at at distance from her, a look of disbelief on her face. When she came to, Yui began muttering something under her breath while moving closer to the maid and her lady. "Very well... lead the way.", she sighed, following the two towards their home. As they walked through the bustling city, full of confused life and raging conflicts, Yui stared at the bright pair in front of her. They stirred a deep feeling within her. Holding a hand to her heart, Yui took a deep breath in and sighed softly. "Not now...", she whispered to herself. It was too early to feel despair. There was an iceberg in these artic waters. Sooner or later, it will be found.</s> <\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Luna@PKMNB0Y Myrtle Bramblewood Sen Rynta — Wellspring Park "Goodbye! And thank you for everything!" Myrtle waved her hands at the Belvar, tiptoeing with excitement. She was completely oblivious to the scare she just gave to the people in the park, particularly the NPCs. The maid's lips formed a half-scowl. She didn't say anything but she was clearly displeased by the flagrant show her mistress just gave. Not that the mistress herself noticed. "Oh, you're coming?" She grabbed the hands of the paladin after hearing her words. "That's wonderful! I promise, you won't regret it!" She shook her hands vigorously, smiling ear to ear in the process. "Miss, should I go on ahead to prepare?" The maid interrupted the two, her hands placed all prim and proper on the front of her apron. "I shall bake you some snacks for your meeting." "Oh, that's a great idea, Azure!" Myrtle released the paladin's hands, her dress twirling as she made a sharp turn to face her. "You do that! We'll take a scenic route around the city!" "Very well then. Now, if you would excuse me…" The maid gave a light bow, giving one last look towards the paladin before leaving the scene. "Be careful on your way home!" Myrtle stood on her toes and waved her hand again. She then twirled back to face the paladin, clasping her hands near her right chest. "Isn't she just the best?" -------- Myrtle took the lead, walking just a few feet ahead of the paladin. She began bombarding her with questions regarding her character: how far she had gotten in the main quest, how many raid bosses she had defeated, what her other classes were, and so on, and so forth. All the while having her eyes wandering on her surroundings. enjoying the sight the city was giving her. "Ahh, this place really is lovely! It's nothing at all like the one in the game! We might be stuck here but at the very least, we can be part of this wonderful and exciting new world!" She twirled with a laugh, giggling towards the paladin.</s> <\|message\|>Kosame Ariyoshi Kokoma Aluvera - City Streets @PKMNB0Y --- "Yep yep, that's exactly how I got here." She'd reply, holding tightly to her mount as it'd swiftly move down the streets. What it lacked in speed, it made up for in great endurance. "No idea, but its great isn't it!" The Shenke would laugh. "No more nine to five life! I can do whatever the hell I want and no one tells me otherwise, ahah~!" Perhaps she should be taking this more...calmly? But really, how could she just not enjoy this? The wind as she ran through the street, the scents, the feeling of her spear having impaled that one harpy...ah. It felt so good to just...feel so alive. "Weh!" Kokoma barely noticed the fact she had almost run into another person with her mount, causing them to swerve a bit to the left and likely causing Sefira to smoosh against her back as they'd skid to a halt just outside of the city walls. While there were certainly less monsters here, there definitely were some - and unfortunate guards and other overly eager adventurers...players? lurking about. "Geheh, sorry. Was thinking about something super soft and cute." She'd grin, leaving that up to Sefira's interpretation. "Alright! Take the rear and blast 'em while I distract them, kay? I'll be countin' on ya to cover my cute tail"</s> <\|message\|>Takeyama Matsuo Great. On top of everything else, this weirdo was into this. Sure, being able to cast magic was nice, but still! This was a lot to take in, and she had just embraced in just like that?! Sefira opened her mouth to complain, and then let out a gasp as their mount suddenly lurched to the side, mashing her directly into Kokoma's back. It was awkward, made even more awkward by the fact she was now a girl and had just been squished directly into another girl. She had been trying to do her best to avoid thinking about that aspect, but actively being pressed up against Kokoma that closely made it once again quite difficult to ignore. Kokoma's comment, whatever it meant, didn't help in the least. "Ugh, fine!" the flustered elven Starlight Mage exclaimed as she glanced back over her shoulder, readying her staff. She wasn't sure what spells she could cast from the back of a moving beast like this, but she guessed that maybe her lowest level ones might be possible. They had short cast times back when Emerald Odyssey was a game. While they weren't as heavily-damaging, that didn't mean they wouldn't be effective at keeping enemies at bay. @PKMNB0Y</s>	<\|message\|>Itouchi Horiyama Saito Souji Aluvera - Streets --- Upon leaving the house, the observation put forward by Eunice was rather obvious. The ongoing chaos though being thinned out, was still not concluded. He had expected someone to take up command of the people who were willing to fight, and perhaps that may happen... Still, it did not make their new situation any less of an inconvenience. Five griffons, and they seemed to be moving like a pack. Was it just out of coincidence? Or was someone targeting Eunice? He could not quite tell, but all the same he drew his blade and prepared to fight. "I can hold up the rear, we'll push through the front and put them at once side of us at the very least. We're not gonna spend all day cutting them down", he was rather sure of himself. If their objective was to leave, this was the logical course of action.</s>
<\|description\|>Itouchi Horiyama Character Name: Saito Souji Race: Human Age: 24 Personality: Itouchi is a somewhat reserved individual, as one might expect from a young Japanese man, however he has a particular sense of judgement. He is prone to making his own conclusions about other people, and while he may not act on those conclusions without further observation, he can break that rule should the person in question be of distaste to him. In particular, those who treat others horribly, who act in service of only themselves, or if they act childishly and waste people's time. Normally he would simply avoid them, but there are times when he may confront them if he believes that not doing so would seriously harm the group. Despite his rather strong sense of judgement, he's a friendly person, though perhaps due to being reserved, acts somewhat formally most of the time. There are times when around close friends he may act much less so, making more jokes and acting somewhat more carefree. Perhaps something one might notice is a particularly fondness for the Shinsengumi, and though it is not as obvious as it used to be, the leftovers of that more pronounced phase of his remain in his name. History: Itouchi like many young men graduating university, would find themselves applying for a company and then working there as a salaryman. He was rather fortunate to find a good company, having had a rather normal upbringing. It was this somewhat normal lifestyle combined with the more lonely lifestyle of a salaryman that perhaps pushed him towards Emerald Odyssey, seeking something a little more exciting between work days. He started playing roughly three or four years ago, and for the first few of those he became an accomplished raider, perhaps the very best for one of the expansions, but stopped after realizing the stress it was beginning to put him under. Though he is thankful for those years as it has shaped him into a more than competent player, both overall skill with the game, and when it comes to playing with other people which was a central component. From then on he normally just played the game with friends, only delving into difficult content on a casual basis. Class(es): * Samurai - [Katana] - A melee DPS class that utilizes a Katana. A swift and agile class boasting high critical rate and critical damage that aims to move through droves of enemies with very few strokes of the blade. As a drawback, their damage if they do not land a precise strike would be more than underwhelming, and defensive capabilities are nearly none, preferring to avoid blocking with their weapon. They have access to perhaps the fastest set of weapon skills called Battoujutsu, where the samurai may resheathe their weapon, gathering up their focus and spiritual energy before unleashing it in an impressive display of blinding speed. * Kagemusha - [Nodachi] - Meaning "shadow warrior", a tank class that utilizes a Nodachi. In particular they make use of shadowy decoys to gain the attention of the enemy and even confuse them, as well as creating veils of shadow over their allies in order to hide them or guard them from attack. Every shadow generated costs a portion of the Kagemusha's health pool, however should these decoys slay enemies or deal sufficient damage, they can return to the Kagemusha to restore their health. * Ashigaru - [Matchlock Firearms] - A ranged DPS class that utilizes matchlock firearms. Though it has a low firing rate compared to many if not all ranged classes, it boasts high damage per shot, and the highest critical damage of ranged classes. Despite being a ranged DPS class, it is frequently seen fighting in close quarters, only retreating to fire off their fatal shots. The Ashigaru also use matchlock handguns in these situations, with skills based around evasion and breaking armor. This class is also known to be a popular secondary, as the handguns can be used alongside any weapon that can be wielded with one hand. Non-Combat * Blacksmith - Though he doesn't delve a lot into crafting, he found himself making use of blacksmith frequently to maintain his weapons. He can craft new ones too, but for some reason the best weapons he can craft are all for his classes. Blacksmith as a profession is quite popular as people need or want new shiny gear all the time, and while he is not a reputed crafter, the katana that he can craft are of top quality... And nothing else. Other: * His character name Saito Souji is a combination of Hajime Saito and Okita Souji. * Kagemusha refers to a political term coined during the Sengoku period meaning "shadow warrior", and means to refer to body doubles, thus the protective nature of the class. * The coat he wears is obtained from PvP, and was a limited run at the time. Very few players have it. * He has a small player home in the eastern region.</s> <\|message\|>Agaue Selinofoto Agaue Selinofoto Miura Yui Location: Sen Rynta - Bramblewood Estate @PKMNB0Y Trigger warning. Apologies in advanced. --- --- A room full of young girls. A bucket full of water. A knife. The stares. Somewhere in the distance, a bell rings, but nobody moves. They were all talking, but Yui, who sat in the middle, could only hear the deafening sound of static. "You'll never amount to anything." "Useless." "Why are you still alive? Hahaha." "You're only great because of your big family!" "You must've slept with the teachers, no wonder you're so dirty!" "Just a doll." "She's not even crying, she must be a ghost!" "Nobody loves you." "Just die." All these words, Yui knew. She could read them from their poisonous lips, but could not listen. It was true, Yui did not shed a tear, not even a speck of emotion on her face. Something like this... it was nothing. Yui blankly stared at the open window, watching as a bird flew by; she could be that bird, even if for a second. In the reflection of the tiled walls, something glistens in one of the girl's hands - all that Yui could do was shut her eyes, hoping it would be over soon. "M-... Miss... Miss Agaue!" Yui slowly opened her eyes, and turned to Azure, who evidently came to the room at behest of her master. "Sorry to disturb you, but Miss Myrtle requests your presence." Azure left the room, but Yui did not miss the worrying glance. Slowly rising from the bed, Yui came up to the dresser mirror to check herself. Indeed, she had awoken in a cold sweat, but that all it was - sweat, maybe stress. It was something of a normal occurrence, although it does irritate her slightly to see their faces in her sleep. After splashing and wiping her face, Yui came downstairs to join Myrtle and her friend. Downstairs at last, give or take a half hour, Yui found her way to the lobby they currently sat in. "Agaue Selinofoto. Pleasure to meet you." she would introduce herself to Anastasia. After hearing their plans to go outside to collect alchemy ingredients, Yui glanced at her own inventory. She might as well stack up, plus, it would be rude of her to not offer her protection as a tank. "I shall come." Yui nodded slightly. Together, they walked out towards the outskirts of Sen Rynata. --- Location: Sen Rynta - Outskirts @PKMNB0Y --- --- Yui took a proper look around the outside since she's been transported to this world. It was more vast than she could ever imagine, the bluey skies offered a sign of peace, and the wind that breezed around them was refreshing. Refreshing, if only the masses of obviously clown of players could reign it in. There was much shouting, bantering, and a couple of fist fights. Nevertheless, Yui wasn't impressed. Yui spied the herbs that would regenerate through pixels, only to be snatched away by a fool in a matter of seconds. That also, would be stolen in the blink of an eye. Farming here would be impossible. It didn't matter though, Yui's creations needed higher quality. Myrtle was very obviously another alchemist like her, as Yui observed from her possessions in the mansion. Yui hadn't mentioned it to her yet, what her non-combatant classes were. Inhaling slowly, Yui focused her mind to a particular herb in low supply in her inventory. It would be somewhere in the depths of the forest nearby, hiding under the roots of trees. This herb is an important catalyst for highly potent healing potions. Yui's eyes went in a particular direction. She could feel the tingling of her harvester's passive skill - 'Sixth Sense'. Yui would have to search in that general area, but, she turned towards the rest of the group. "What would you like to do?" It wasn't important right now, she could gather it alone in her own time, so she rolled the ball in their court.</s> <\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Luna@PKMNB0Y Myrtle Bramblewood Sen Rynta — Bramblewood Estate The moment Agaue entered the room, Anastasia stood up. Myrtle smiled, walking up to the paladin and patting her on the shoulder. "Here she is! Agaue! Hope you two get along!" The paladin then introduced herself. "A-Anastasia Westerwind. Pleased to meet you." She bowed in return. So this is the new friend Myrtle has made… she's a paladin, huh? Looks like a high-level player too, judging by her armor… I guess it makes sense… now that the game world has become real, as a DPS, she'll need a Tank more than ever. "So, we're planning to take a trip outside town?" Myrtle continued. "You're in, Agaue?" To Myrtle's pleasure, the paladin agreed. "Great!" She clapped her hands together, grinning. "Let's go then! I'll lead the way!" --------- Myrtle Bramblewood Sen Rynta — Windy Plains Windy Plains. The very first area one would end up in once they left Sen Rynta. An unending series of green fields as far as the eyes could see, with windmills all around the place, consuming the power given by Mother Nature herself. The city mostly used them to process their flour, however, unlike modern cities with their electricity. And beyond them was the wilderness where monsters wandered. It was where Myrtle and co. were heading. "Wow, look at this view! It's so much more wonderful when we see it in person like this, isn't it?!" Myrtle laughed, opening her arms wide open, letting the gentle wind caress her body. Anastasia smiled. She had to agree with her friend. The view they had here was nothing like the view they had back home. Still, she should really be more careful. With the wind being this… windy, she was showing something she probably shouldn't be showing to her and the paladin. They might all be girls but it was still improper. That was why she herself had been holding down her skirt for a while now. It wasn't a problem back when the game was just a game. But now... The trio walked further down the road, or whatever you call the dirt line they were following. Every day carriages would travel on it, ensuring that no new grass would grow and ruin the path. They saw other players in the area, either gathering the low-level herbs or fighting the low-level monsters in the area. Everything was nice and peaceful. Just like Myrtle predicted. "See?" The weather mage gave Anastasia a victorious smirk. "Nothing to worry about!" Of course, she ignored the banters and shouts and whatever. That was part of the peace she spoke of after all. Suddenly, the paladin gave them a question. "Hmm?" Myrtle pressed her index on her cheek and tilted her head. "What do I want to do? Isn't it obvious? Killing mobs, of course! We gotta get use to that if we're going to live in this world!" She smiled at her. And as if in cue, a horned rabbit strolled into her sight. "Ah! That rabbit! That's good target practice!" Myrtle focused her mind and fired her weakest, most basic spell. She already had her staff out so there was no need to bring it out of her inventory. "Crackle!" A simple spell that attacked the enemy by charging the air around them with electricity, simulating thunderclouds. However… CRASH A powerful jolt of electricity burst forth from the air surrounding the rabbit, disintegrating the poor creature in an instant, leaving the smell of burned flesh and grass, as well as making the skin of every person nearby tingle. She forgot. Her basic spell had been upgraded to its most destructive form over the course of her leveling. She really didn't have any weak spells anymore. "Oops, I… might have gone a little overboard there." Myrtle scratched the back of her head with a nervous smile as she glanced at her friends.</s>	<\|message\|>Itouchi Horiyama Saito Souji Aluvera - Outskirts --- The ensuing escape from the city was largely uneventful, aside from the ongoing attack. Aside from the flames and destroyed streets in some areas, the screaming and chaos had subsided. As the group relaxed, Saito simply stood just a little to the side as he made himself comfortable. Despite the state they left the town in, being outside of it and in a more open space put him at ease. From the way the conversation was going, it looks like they were in for almost a week of travel, assuming it's not a few days without rest. Which was strange, traversing from one part of the land to another should not take that long, given the towns that were cited. Such was another difference between this world and the game... Hmmm, for all they knew the world could be completely different. A question was directed at him as the conversation continued. "Hmmmm, we're not out here to to tackle a dungeon or boss. If we're only travelling then this much is fine. We just need to avoid unnecessary challenges", it was true. While something like a healer may make things easier, there were other ways to keep oneself healthy in this game... Or rather, world he would wager. Potions and food and the like. There wasn't much reason to have a sustained form of healing.</s>
<\|description\|>Itouchi Horiyama Character Name: Saito Souji Race: Human Age: 24 Personality: Itouchi is a somewhat reserved individual, as one might expect from a young Japanese man, however he has a particular sense of judgement. He is prone to making his own conclusions about other people, and while he may not act on those conclusions without further observation, he can break that rule should the person in question be of distaste to him. In particular, those who treat others horribly, who act in service of only themselves, or if they act childishly and waste people's time. Normally he would simply avoid them, but there are times when he may confront them if he believes that not doing so would seriously harm the group. Despite his rather strong sense of judgement, he's a friendly person, though perhaps due to being reserved, acts somewhat formally most of the time. There are times when around close friends he may act much less so, making more jokes and acting somewhat more carefree. Perhaps something one might notice is a particularly fondness for the Shinsengumi, and though it is not as obvious as it used to be, the leftovers of that more pronounced phase of his remain in his name. History: Itouchi like many young men graduating university, would find themselves applying for a company and then working there as a salaryman. He was rather fortunate to find a good company, having had a rather normal upbringing. It was this somewhat normal lifestyle combined with the more lonely lifestyle of a salaryman that perhaps pushed him towards Emerald Odyssey, seeking something a little more exciting between work days. He started playing roughly three or four years ago, and for the first few of those he became an accomplished raider, perhaps the very best for one of the expansions, but stopped after realizing the stress it was beginning to put him under. Though he is thankful for those years as it has shaped him into a more than competent player, both overall skill with the game, and when it comes to playing with other people which was a central component. From then on he normally just played the game with friends, only delving into difficult content on a casual basis. Class(es): * Samurai - [Katana] - A melee DPS class that utilizes a Katana. A swift and agile class boasting high critical rate and critical damage that aims to move through droves of enemies with very few strokes of the blade. As a drawback, their damage if they do not land a precise strike would be more than underwhelming, and defensive capabilities are nearly none, preferring to avoid blocking with their weapon. They have access to perhaps the fastest set of weapon skills called Battoujutsu, where the samurai may resheathe their weapon, gathering up their focus and spiritual energy before unleashing it in an impressive display of blinding speed. * Kagemusha - [Nodachi] - Meaning "shadow warrior", a tank class that utilizes a Nodachi. In particular they make use of shadowy decoys to gain the attention of the enemy and even confuse them, as well as creating veils of shadow over their allies in order to hide them or guard them from attack. Every shadow generated costs a portion of the Kagemusha's health pool, however should these decoys slay enemies or deal sufficient damage, they can return to the Kagemusha to restore their health. * Ashigaru - [Matchlock Firearms] - A ranged DPS class that utilizes matchlock firearms. Though it has a low firing rate compared to many if not all ranged classes, it boasts high damage per shot, and the highest critical damage of ranged classes. Despite being a ranged DPS class, it is frequently seen fighting in close quarters, only retreating to fire off their fatal shots. The Ashigaru also use matchlock handguns in these situations, with skills based around evasion and breaking armor. This class is also known to be a popular secondary, as the handguns can be used alongside any weapon that can be wielded with one hand. Non-Combat * Blacksmith - Though he doesn't delve a lot into crafting, he found himself making use of blacksmith frequently to maintain his weapons. He can craft new ones too, but for some reason the best weapons he can craft are all for his classes. Blacksmith as a profession is quite popular as people need or want new shiny gear all the time, and while he is not a reputed crafter, the katana that he can craft are of top quality... And nothing else. Other: * His character name Saito Souji is a combination of Hajime Saito and Okita Souji. * Kagemusha refers to a political term coined during the Sengoku period meaning "shadow warrior", and means to refer to body doubles, thus the protective nature of the class. * The coat he wears is obtained from PvP, and was a limited run at the time. Very few players have it. * He has a small player home in the eastern region.</s> <\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Myrtle Bramblewood Sen Rynta — Windy Plains "Well!" Myrtle turned to the group and gave an awkward smile. "Let's forget about that! We don't really need ingredients from such a low-level opponent in the first place!" This really is a problem though. With my stats and level, none of these monsters can stand a chance against even the weakest of my spells. I guess I'll just have to downgrade my equipment. Her gaze returned back to the rabbit. "Well, that's odd. The corpse is still there. I guess it doesn't despawn like usual anymore." She walked over to it and poked it with her staff. "Yep, it's a corpse alright. Don't think any of it is usable though. Not with the damage I've done to it." She walked back to the group. "So, here's some advice. You guys should downgrade the equipment you wear if you don't want to just obliterate these small fries." With a swipe of her hand, she opened her menu. "Hmm, let me see… do I have any low-level equipment here…"</s> <\|message\|>Agaue Selinofoto Agaue Selinofoto Miura Yui Location: Sen Rynta - Windy Plains [Outskirts] @PKMNB0Y --- --- From the rather crispy carcass, to Myrtle's candid attitude, Yui could not help but sigh softly. Aside from the light show, it would seem that animals were not an exception to this world's regeneration laws. Whatever they would destroy, it would leave behind its evidence. Yui knelt by the unfortunate sacrifice, and poked it with her gloved hands. Nothing here was salvageable, obviously, but if it were... well, at least Yui had experience in prep work. Yui knew that she had nothing to safely kill these small creatures, all of her equipment for her classes were BIS (best in slot). Nothing short of high-end and high quality. That was, and is, the problem. Yui didn't know her limits, even as a tank, a single poke of her lance might stab through creatures entirely. If she wanted something valuable from them, she needed to find a way to obtain it efficiently. Another rabbit came by to see the commotion. It locked eyes with Yui. There was a moment of acknowledgement between the two. With the speed of a cheetah, Yui threw the nearest stick at its head. Imapct. A moment of silence. The rabbit screamed and ran away, seemingly with tears in its eyes. It would have been comical, if only Yui wasn't serious about that experiment. "What materials are you looking for?". Yui stood up again, dusting the dirt off her knees.</s> <\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Myrtle Bramblewood Sen Rynta — Windy Plains "Oh, nothing in particular," Myrtle replied with her easygoing smile. "I don't need materials from low level areas like this." Meanwhile, Anastasia's gaze was locked on another rabbit, one that was still unaware of her presence. "Anny?" Myrtle noticed her friend's serious expression. "I think—I think I can take it on." She opened her inventory and took out her leatherwork knife. Holding it tightly in her right hand, she slowly sneaked up on the creature before plunging it into its soft flesh. The creature died instantly. And with barely any harm to its fur, skin, or horn. "Whoa! That was hardcore, Anny!" Myrtle ran to where she stood. The red haired girl turned around and smiled bashfully. "Oh, it's nothing. I just thought that with my low stat as a leatherworker, I can kill it safely like that." "Nonono, I'm not talking about that! I'm talking about how you can just stab it with a knife like it's nothing! Casting magic like me is one thing but actually using a real knife like that, I don't think I can ever do it!" Myrtle's gaze then switched to the paladin. "How about you, Agaue? You can slash people with that sword of yours?"</s> <\|message\|>Kosame Ariyoshi Kokoma Aluvera - City outskirts --- "Hmm...good question when did it come out..." Kokoma would frown, thinking about it slightly as she'd hop off Kuja. "Nine years? Gosh ten years stuck in that same boring job, ugh..." She'd cough, chuckling lightly before quickly moving on. "Annnyways, yep, that sounds about right! So if you need anything you can rely on Kokoma. I know this place like I know my fluffy tail!" The reincarnator would smugly grin at her own experience. "Tamed almost every tameable monster! Speaking of, right! Mounts! Lets see...how did I do it again...?" She'd reach up to her mouth, and a loud, high pitched whistle would call out through the area. It would take a few moments for it to have some noticeable effect, but it would not take long to take note of something quickly approaching the group. It would look like a...giant...wheel of water, at first? It was rolling towards them at an extremely high speed, and no doubt was some sort of monster! It would spin faster and faster as it'd approach, heading right for Kokoma, though she didn't seem too perturbed by it even if, briefly it didn't look like it was about to slow down. At least, until there was a thread of silk that would wrap itself around it, and then what was an Arachne in a maid dress leaping in to knock the wheel of water - now revealed to be some sort of aquatic dragon looking creature to fall over on its side. "Ahem, apologies master Kokoma. Teel got excited." The arachne would say, approaching and looking at the others gathered. "...ah, is this our current party?" "Heheh, yep! Everyone, this is Talliya and Teel...did Shiro not come? Tsk, I know it said he was a troublesome kid in the game files but come on...anyways I think these three should be able to help us cover ground more quickly?" "A pleasure to meet you, everyone. I am Kokoma's maid. Are we...helping you travel?" Kokoma would hop up onto the Arachne's abdomen.</s> <\|message\|>Takeyama Matsuo "... I've been playing for five years now," Sefira said, after giving Kokoma one more look. She hoped, hoped that no-one had figured out why she was reluctant to say her real name right now. But dwelling on that matter was going to get her no-where. As annoying as the beast tamer was proving, the fact she had mounts like this meant that it was much easier to travel. Even if one of them almost ran her over like that. With a sigh, Sefira pushed her way off the first of the beasts and stumbled as she landed on her feet, stretching her legs. They felt a little bit sore from how she'd been jostled about riding that beast at high speeds. "I suppose if I have to travel in this world, I could do much worse," she added, glancing towards the other beasts that Kokoma had summoned. An arachne serving as her maid? That was bound to be a weird mount. Riding a sapient being who had a largely human body save for about the lower hips to the legs... it had such a strange vibe to her. @Rune_Alchemist@Sho Minazuki</s>	<\|message\|>Itouchi Horiyama Saito Souji Aluvera - Outskirts --- "Saito Souji", he introduced himself briefly, as he allowed the conversation to continue. All of a sudden their group had become larger. It meant they were well-equipped if a battle needed to be fought. All he was doing now really was thinking what would make sense if this world was real, after all... As it was, he had no reason to treat it otherwise, the senses he was experiencing was unlike sitting at a computer and playing. "Just a few years myself, I guess...?", in actuality, everyone here probably had zero years. It's not as if playing this game equated to travelling the world or anything... One of their new companions was a tamer, and their choice of mount was... Spiders? "How unusual... But I suppose if we can travel quickly, it will be worth standing out in such a way", he surmised. Indeed, the mount menu was disabled, but tamers had mounts built into their kits.</s>
<\|description\|>Yasuho Tanaka Character Name: Myrtle Bramblewood Race: Human Appearance: Age: 18 years old Personality: A cheerful and bubbly girl. Instead of being distressed by her newfound circumstances, she instead welcomes it. It's an exciting new adventure after all. In real life, she's somewhat of a lazy girl. She doesn't see the point of striving more than the bare minimum in her studies. After all, even if she gets into a good college, there's no guarantee she'll have a good job. In fact, she starts planning to earn her living as a ramen seller instead. She loves cooking after all. In the game, however, she puts a lot more effort into her character. She might not be the kind of player who goes for the hardest fights in the game, but she will grind her alchemy and cooking skills to the max. Her goal? Make a lot of money, of course. She wants to have the largest mansion. Or even her own land if she could. To her, the game was more of a trading simulator than an RPG. And so, she becomes a cunning yet trustworthy crafter. She won't break her promises to the customers but she'll absolutely try to squeeze every single penny out of them. Hates studying in real life. Another reason to be excited with her transportation into the MMO world. History: In the real world, Yasuho was just one of the many unassuming Japanese high school girls that filled the nation. Her grades were average, her looks were average, and her love life was also average (and by that, she meant she didn't have any). On Emerald Odyssey however, she was one of the top alchemists in her server, always there to provide potions for top players. As a result, her character was quite rich. So rich in fact that she has her own mansion with NPC servants. Her laboratory is also located inside said mansion. Speaking of NPCs, she also hired some as Gatherers. Not for high level ingredients, mind you, since that's impossible for them to gather, but for low level ones. As for her Cooking, it's still not on that level, unfortunately. But it's still decent enough that she can use the buffs provided from her dishes to aid her in combat. In short, she was happier in the game than in real life. Not only does she look better (her character is definitely cuter than her real self), but she's actually somewhat of an important person there. Many guilds depended on her potions. And many gatherers depended on her money, as she employed multiple of them as her permanent ingredients suppliers. Her mansion is located in Sen Rynta, the city above the clouds. She likes the view. Class(es): Alchemist, Weather Mage, Culinarian Alchemist A crafting class that specializes in potion creations. A potion can heal your HP and MP, as well as buff your stats, both combat ones and crafting/gathering ones. Naturally, this means potions are always in demand, especially the best ones. To craft a potion, one needs to at least have an alembic in their possession. Though of course, the more complex and high level the potion is, the more tools one would need to craft it. Eventually, one will need an entire alchemist laboratory to do it. One can purchase the ingredients necessary for said potions from other players, particularly gatherers. NPCs certainly sell more but they're only for low level potions. And of course, one can just gather them themselves. Weather Mage A combat class that can conjure all sorts of weather effects to attack their opponents. For example, conjuring stormclouds to rain her enemies with lightning. Or creating fog to obscure the enemy's vision. A weather mage uses both her own mana and the ambient mana of her surroundings. In the beginning of a fight, a weather mage can only use small weather phenomenona, like a single thundercloud firing down lightning to a single opponent. However, the longer the fight goes, the more ambient mana the mage absorbs, until eventually, she can use her big spells. Then, once, the ambient mana she absorbed runs out, the cycle begins anew again. Culinarian Another crafter class. In some ways, it is quite similar to alchemist. The food a Culinarian makes gives buffs to players as well. And you also need more than a pan and a spatula to cook all sorts of food. However, Culinarians are somewhat in demand for player-run restaurants that popped out in every single city. Since food buffs last a lot longer than potion buffs, you can have a meal there before tackling a difficult boss. Food, however, can't instantaneously heal HP and MP like potions can Other: One of Myrtle's NPC retainers. Mrytle's main supplier. A timid girl who would never dare to raise her prices, making her the perfect partner for the conniving alchemist.</s> <\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Luna Myrtle Bramblewood Sen Rynta — Wellspring Park Hmm? What's this? A new character just entered the fray? She seemed to be a knight, judging by that armor. A Paladin, perhaps? So she's a PC. And she's healing the man! Ooh, that's great! Someone does listen to my speech back there! Though thinking about it, I could've given him one of my healing potions. Oops, I completely forgot I could do that. Once the Paladin stood back up, however, she gave Myrtle an unsolicited advice. And she wasn't sure if she liked said advice. "Dangerous? I don't think there's anything dangerous about what's going on here." Myrtle folded her hands under her chest with a confident smile. "I can hold my own in a fight. Oh, and thank you, by the way, for healing him. Now that we're stuck in this world, we really should start treating these NPCs better." She then reached her hand towards the paladin. "The name's Myrtle Bramblewood. Pleased to meet you, Miss."</s> <\|message\|>Itouchi Horiyama Saito Souji Aluvera - Alleyway --- Certainly, it did not feel right to just be gallivanting off while fighting was going on outside, although given the circumstances, getting answers seemed to be priority, at least to everyone present. The explanation given was not substantial in his opinion, nothing said was unable to be gleamed from just looking around, or witnessing the spectacle prior. The answer given whether or not the young girl knew them or not was rather cryptic, and only raised more questions. In times like these, perhaps going along with the events was the better course of action, and it seemed to be the way everyone here was going to go. "Hmmmm... Well, I suppose I'll also play along. It seems there's more to this than just some 'attack' on a town", one that was a sanctuary no less, it seems the world did not abide by the rules of the game anymore, that much was already certain. Only thing not understood was to what extent... As the talking went on he quickly summed it up cutting towards the end of a long-winded explanation. "Basically, to cut it short, we know nothing. We woke up and ended up in a game we play frequently. It may seem strange for us to call your world a game but that is just how it is... Or rather, was. We were hoping to get answers from you instead", he explained.</s> <\|message\|>Character List Shokatsu YuAluvera — Inconspicuous House Nova's explanation of their situation, paired with Saito's rather succinct synopsis, left Eunice at a rather distinct loss for words. There was a moment where it seemed as she might almost ask if they were lying to her face, but the expressions on the three adventurers' faces left her little reason to doubt the veracity of their claims. To this, the white-haired woman sat there in silence, trying to process everything mentally before shaking her head in disbelief. "I... No, the travel from another world would explain your presence, but a world without magic? That doesn't explain why everyone else seems to treat your presence here as a matter of fact, though..." she muttered to herself quietly before leaning forward, her eyes towards the ground all the while. "And... A game? I understand what you mean by 'computer', I think, but to emulate our world, people and all, with pieces on a board—" "It's not a game in the sense that you might be thinking," Yu said, interrupting Eunice's mumbling to add his own piece to the others' explanations. "While this world only really has board games, the game we are referring to is akin to... I suppose the best analogy in this case would be an interactive storybook or dream world, where we can create and interact with characters and the world within? That doesn't mean that the world as we see it now was exactly as we saw it, though, seeing as how those streets and this house didn't exist before..." Despite her apparent shock, though, it seems that the explanation had managed to reach Eunice. As absurd as all of this sounded, it seemed impossible for three strangers to corroborate the same story on a whim when asked, and so she could only accept this as the truth behind the situation until she learned more. "...I see that I have much to consider for the days—no, weeks to come. Sadly, I have not heard of any spells with the capacity to summon people from another world, much less change such a large quantity of humans into other races and manipulate the memories of those who live in the world, but I shall do my best in helping everyone seek out the cause of their presence here," she finally said, taking a deep breath before looking back towards the three present, uncertain as she looked about being given such a revelation in the first place. At that, though, Eunice soon turned back towards Nova, whose questions she had thus left unanswered; after all, with the question of their presence here unanswerable at the moment, it only seemed prudent to address that which they could attempt to resolve before anything else. "Now, to answer your questions thus: I had stated that you all—in other words, all of the adventurers in this world, or at least those who witnessed that man's descent into Aluvera—had a desire to know, and my memories state that no small number would move aggressively in an attempt to pry information from him, regardless of what he may actually know. I am not excusing myself from the number of those who would wish to get to the root of this problem, but I would rather prioritize the life of a person and obtain information by speaking with him rather than banking on the possibility that force might expedite the process." The serious tone she had taken made it clear that Eunice did not particularly like being painted as hypocritical, but that was more an aside than anything else given that the more important question had yet to be addressed. "As for my plans hereon... Supposing that our visitor from Pelemeos had not arrived, I would visit the other city-states in Usira and decide on a more proper course of action afterwards. My intent is to help try and settle this matter out of the public eye until the dust has settled, though I suspect that the possibility of massive upheaval is rather high." With a sigh, Eunice turned towards the other two briefly to see if they might give some minor nod of approval before continuing. "That... Is the long and short of it, I suppose. To stay here in Aluvera or follow me on my trip, or even trust my words in the first place... I will leave to you to choose." Minazuki@SilverPaw --- Aluvera — City Streets As Kokoma and Sefira rode further from the center of the city, the presence of monsters would drop off—at least, initially it would. Nearing the city's gates, closed as they were now, would reveal that most of the beasts that had not been killed outright had fled outside the walls. The plains provided little in terms of cover, but with the nature of the monsters, such things might not have provided much in terms of assistance for them. With that said, less obstructions meant more room to wreak havoc on the people outside, be they slightly overconfident adventurers or the unfortunate guards who were by no means prepared for an onslaught as sudden as this. The monsters were rather thin in number, but even with a few seasoned adventurers slowly making their way onto the battlefield, they could only kill so many at a time... @VitaVitaAR --- Sen Rynta — Wellspring Park Once he had finished dragging the unconscious man out of the way, the Belva brushed himself off before crossing his arms and nodding, well pleased at himself for being able to move someone multiple times his size despite the situation. It would have been rather embarrassing to have needed assistance, after all. It was it at this point that the pink-haired girl strode over to him and offered to become contacts. Given the casual nature of the request and the situation, he was hardly in any situation to refuse, and so... "Mmm... I see no reason not to," he began, fiddling for a bit with the air in front of him before finally finding what he had desired and promptly sending the request to the girl in front of him. The name "Mini Marcher", clear for Myrtle to see, wasn't exactly serious, but whether or not she would make a quip about it remained to be seen. The arrival of another woman—an elven Paladin, by the looks of things—brought some relief for the unconscious man in the form of some healing, but as as the two began to talk, Mini seemed to take a step back to see how this would end up panning out. @Operator Luna</s>	<\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Myrtle Bramblewood Sen Rynta — Wellspring Park "Thank you!" Myrtle clasped her hands with excitement when she heard the Belva's reply. "Then, I'll send my contacts right now!" She opened her menu with a swipe of her finger (for some reason it just came naturally to her, even though this was her second time doing so). Traversing to contacts, she then sent a friend request to the Belva. But since she no longer had a mouse to click on him, she had to aim the floating box towards him. Only to find that she was beaten by his request by a microsecond. "Oh, dammit!" She cursed under her breath. Only one person was needed to initiate a friend request after all. The other side could just accept and both persons would receive the others' names in their contacts. Of course, once the confirmation box appeared, she pressed the "Yes" button. With a satisfying click, his name then appeared on her contact list. Really? Mini Marcher? That's cute. She stifled a giggle. Speaking of that, she scrolled through the names, finding that many of her usual acquaintances were marked as "Online". They were her fellow crafters, her frequent customers, and the gatherers she bought material from. She considered for a second to send a message to them but put it off for later once she had returned to her mansion. Not that she would have a chance to do so anyway, thanks to the paladin's arrival.</s>
<\|description\|>Yasuho Tanaka Character Name: Myrtle Bramblewood Race: Human Appearance: Age: 18 years old Personality: A cheerful and bubbly girl. Instead of being distressed by her newfound circumstances, she instead welcomes it. It's an exciting new adventure after all. In real life, she's somewhat of a lazy girl. She doesn't see the point of striving more than the bare minimum in her studies. After all, even if she gets into a good college, there's no guarantee she'll have a good job. In fact, she starts planning to earn her living as a ramen seller instead. She loves cooking after all. In the game, however, she puts a lot more effort into her character. She might not be the kind of player who goes for the hardest fights in the game, but she will grind her alchemy and cooking skills to the max. Her goal? Make a lot of money, of course. She wants to have the largest mansion. Or even her own land if she could. To her, the game was more of a trading simulator than an RPG. And so, she becomes a cunning yet trustworthy crafter. She won't break her promises to the customers but she'll absolutely try to squeeze every single penny out of them. Hates studying in real life. Another reason to be excited with her transportation into the MMO world. History: In the real world, Yasuho was just one of the many unassuming Japanese high school girls that filled the nation. Her grades were average, her looks were average, and her love life was also average (and by that, she meant she didn't have any). On Emerald Odyssey however, she was one of the top alchemists in her server, always there to provide potions for top players. As a result, her character was quite rich. So rich in fact that she has her own mansion with NPC servants. Her laboratory is also located inside said mansion. Speaking of NPCs, she also hired some as Gatherers. Not for high level ingredients, mind you, since that's impossible for them to gather, but for low level ones. As for her Cooking, it's still not on that level, unfortunately. But it's still decent enough that she can use the buffs provided from her dishes to aid her in combat. In short, she was happier in the game than in real life. Not only does she look better (her character is definitely cuter than her real self), but she's actually somewhat of an important person there. Many guilds depended on her potions. And many gatherers depended on her money, as she employed multiple of them as her permanent ingredients suppliers. Her mansion is located in Sen Rynta, the city above the clouds. She likes the view. Class(es): Alchemist, Weather Mage, Culinarian Alchemist A crafting class that specializes in potion creations. A potion can heal your HP and MP, as well as buff your stats, both combat ones and crafting/gathering ones. Naturally, this means potions are always in demand, especially the best ones. To craft a potion, one needs to at least have an alembic in their possession. Though of course, the more complex and high level the potion is, the more tools one would need to craft it. Eventually, one will need an entire alchemist laboratory to do it. One can purchase the ingredients necessary for said potions from other players, particularly gatherers. NPCs certainly sell more but they're only for low level potions. And of course, one can just gather them themselves. Weather Mage A combat class that can conjure all sorts of weather effects to attack their opponents. For example, conjuring stormclouds to rain her enemies with lightning. Or creating fog to obscure the enemy's vision. A weather mage uses both her own mana and the ambient mana of her surroundings. In the beginning of a fight, a weather mage can only use small weather phenomenona, like a single thundercloud firing down lightning to a single opponent. However, the longer the fight goes, the more ambient mana the mage absorbs, until eventually, she can use her big spells. Then, once, the ambient mana she absorbed runs out, the cycle begins anew again. Culinarian Another crafter class. In some ways, it is quite similar to alchemist. The food a Culinarian makes gives buffs to players as well. And you also need more than a pan and a spatula to cook all sorts of food. However, Culinarians are somewhat in demand for player-run restaurants that popped out in every single city. Since food buffs last a lot longer than potion buffs, you can have a meal there before tackling a difficult boss. Food, however, can't instantaneously heal HP and MP like potions can Other: One of Myrtle's NPC retainers. Mrytle's main supplier. A timid girl who would never dare to raise her prices, making her the perfect partner for the conniving alchemist.</s> <\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Myrtle Bramblewood Sen Rynta — Wellspring Park "Thank you!" Myrtle clasped her hands with excitement when she heard the Belva's reply. "Then, I'll send my contacts right now!" She opened her menu with a swipe of her finger (for some reason it just came naturally to her, even though this was her second time doing so). Traversing to contacts, she then sent a friend request to the Belva. But since she no longer had a mouse to click on him, she had to aim the floating box towards him. Only to find that she was beaten by his request by a microsecond. "Oh, dammit!" She cursed under her breath. Only one person was needed to initiate a friend request after all. The other side could just accept and both persons would receive the others' names in their contacts. Of course, once the confirmation box appeared, she pressed the "Yes" button. With a satisfying click, his name then appeared on her contact list. Really? Mini Marcher? That's cute. She stifled a giggle. Speaking of that, she scrolled through the names, finding that many of her usual acquaintances were marked as "Online". They were her fellow crafters, her frequent customers, and the gatherers she bought material from. She considered for a second to send a message to them but put it off for later once she had returned to her mansion. Not that she would have a chance to do so anyway, thanks to the paladin's arrival.</s> <\|message\|>Agaue Selinofoto Agaue Selinofoto Miura Yui Location: Sen Rynta - Wellspring Park @PKMNB0Y --- --- Yui stared at the hand that outreached towards her. "The name's Myrtle Bramblewood. Pleased to meet you, Miss.", spoke the young Human. There must be an unspoken etiquette to use in-game usernames. Not that she had any qualms about using her real life name, but in another way, it felt nice. "Agaue. Agaue Selinofoto." Yui responded, firmly shaking Myrtle's hand, like it was a business greeting. Yui glanced at the Belva, who - from his stance - seemed to not want to interfere. Fine by her. Yui was not evangelistic, nor it was of her mind to be associated with the drama that unfolded earlier. However, it did not mean she was not concerned for her safety. One look, and Yui knew that Myrtle had no combat experience whatsoever. Turning her back to them, Yui looked to the bright blue sky, closing her eyes as she felt the slight breeze of the wind, explaining, "It was dangerous. I do not know how long you have been stuck inside this game, assuming you're a player as well-". Her armour rattled as Yui faced the trio again, the sun made her a glowing figure. "I'd be more aware of your new reality." Yui folded her arms, but her face remains as straight as ever. After hearing Myrtle - if she had any thing else to say, Yui asked, "What are your plans now?". Yui needed to see the state of affairs, of the world. There were things to be addressed, and Yui knew that she had to get to the bottom of this mysterious summoning. If they wanted to come along, so be it. If they needed help, so she would, as long as it led her to the cause of her buzzing intuitions.</s>	<\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Myrtle Bramblewood Sen Rynta — Wellspring Park "Ooh, Agaue Selinofoto! That's a cool, if not a little bit weird name!" Myrtle moved her hands up and down with excitement as she shook hers. "My name is straight up plain compared to yours!" Whoa! She's glowing! Is it just a trick of the eye or is it her Paladin magic? I don't remember any Paladin skills that can do that though. "Oh, don't be such a worrywart!" Myrtle released her hand, still smiling. "I'm a max level Weather Mage! Just because I don't have my staff out doesn't mean I don't know how to fight!" She opened her inventory and equipped the staff, materializing the weapon right at the perfect angle for her to snatch. She slammed its iron tip to the ground before giving it a twirl, ending by throwing it mid-air and aiming it towards the paladin. Yes, for some reason, she could perfectly manipulate the staff to her liking without clumsily dropping it like she had expected. It probably came from the class, she told herself. "Here! Let me show you my magic even! I can't use the big stuff in a place like this but a simple tornado should suffice." To be honest, she didn't know how she was supposed to use her spells. She didn't have any buttons to press. Not in this new world. So all she could think of was just to imagine the spell she wanted as she lifted her staff. "Tornado!" Hey, maybe yelling it would help too. To her amazement, the spell triggered. Wind began to sword rapidly above her, forming a small whirlwind visible to the naked eye. She had placed it mid-air quite a way above where they stood so they were safe from its sucking effect. Still, the swirling wind was strong enough to make the trees around them bend and sway. Her dress and hair followed suit, as well as any cloaks and skirts of both PCs and NPCs in the area. It seemed unlike in the game, non-hostile NPCs were still affected by PC's spells. "See? I wasn't lying! That Tornado over there is the max-level version! Not the silly breeze the low level version was!" She lowered her staff, and with it, the spell disappeared. "So if anything happens, I think I can handle it just fine!" She grinned, putting her left hand on her waist. "As for my plans, I think I'm going to invite my friends for a gathering or sorts. See if we can share info with each other. I have a mansion in this city, you see, perfect for such an event. Oh, you can come if you want!"</s>
<\|description\|>Character List @PKMNB0Y — Shokatsu Yu @Hammerman — Myrtle Bramblewood @Rune_Alchemist — Kokoma @SilverPaw — Nova Albright @Sho Minazuki — Saito Souji @VitaVitaAR — Sefira Sylvanbelle</s> <\|message\|>Yasuho Tanaka Yasuho Tanaka/Myrtle Bramblewood This is it! This is the day! Ooh, I'm so excited! What day, you may ask? Why, the day for the new expansion of Emerald Odyssey, of course! I've been waiting for this day for so long you have no idea how excited I am right now! Yasuho Tanaka was spinning in her room, her uniform skirt fluttering as she did. She had just gotten back from school and without even undressing, she booted up her PC with a kick of her foot. As she waited for the boot-up to finish, she danced around, talking to herself in the process. It was what she always did whenever she got too excited. She needed to let it out of her system after all. Only after she started to feel dizzy that she pulled her seifuku up her head and unzipped her skirt. Dumping both unceremoniously in the laundry bin, she sat on her lovely gaming chair and clicked on the icon for the game. Perfect! It already updated by itself! Hehe, thanks to my genius that let it run all night yesterday! Grinning, she clicked the Enter button. The game loaded in an instant, shifting into the title screen with the logo for the game. She clicked log in, selected her character, and waited until the game finished loading. Well, that's weird. No queues at all? On a release day? And then, light enveloped her. … … … Huh? She blinked. Wait, what just happened? She blinked again. Her PC… it had disappeared, vanished into the void. There was now only a wooden chair in front of herself. Or rather, a dresser, as there was a mirror right above it. Her eyes widened. The face she saw in the mirror… wasn't her face in the slightest. It was her character, Myrtle Bramblewood. She yelped, her body leaning too much backwards that she and her chair fell. "Miss Myrtle? Are you alright?" She heard the sound of a door opening. Looking to her right, still upside down with her legs up in the air, she found that a maid was entering the room. Her eyes widened once again. That's Azure! One of my retainers! In the game, players with sufficient funds could pay for NPC retainers to work for them. Azure was one of them. She dressed her up as a maid since it fit with the western mansion aesthetics that she used as her house. "Miss Myrtle, how can you fall over like that? Here, let me help you up." The maid bent over and lifted the chair back up. The weight of her mistress and the heavy chair didn't seem to bother her in the slightest. "Hehe, thank you, Azure." Myrtle scratched her blushing cheek. Wait, why am I talking so casually like this? I've been transported into the world of Emerald Odyssey! And my face! And this body! They all belong to my character, Myrtle Bramblewood! Somehow or the other, I have transformed into her! Myrtle pinched her cheek. No dice. This really wasn't a dream. She stood up to have a look at her new body better. Slim waist, flat chest, average height, pink hair — it really was the body of her character. It took her three hours to customize her appearance so there would be no chance she forgot how she looked. She then twirled in place, her eyes locked to the hem of her short dress. Yep. This was also the outfit she had equipped for her. "Milady, is something the matter?" The voice of her retainer interrupted her thoughts. "A-ah, nothing!" Myrtle smiled nervously. She couldn't very well tell her about this! Especially since she was supposed to be her! The maid pouted. "I believe you need a rest, Milady. Shall we take a stroll outside?" "Outside? Y-yeah, that's a great idea, Azure! We should do that!" Myrtle praised herself for her swift thinking. Outside! Yes, she had to go there! She had to see if she really had been brought into the MMO world she loved! "Very well, Miss." The maid smiled. "I shall pack a lunch and we can have a picnic together in the park." With a quick bow, she left the room, leaving me back with my own devices. "Whew… that was… nerve-wracking… since when an NPC like her can act that intelligently?" She frowned. "Though if this is an alternate world of sorts, and not literally the world inside the game, that would make sense…" She paced back and forth for a bit, squeezing her chin with her index and thumb. Until she suddenly stopped and snapped her fingers. "Well, time to look around this place! First, we'll start from this room!" The place was big, a lot bigger than her room back in the real world. A large queen-sized bed was neatly tucked to the northwest corner of the room (if she were to assume the door was on the south). A grandfather clock stood proudly to the east, along with the dresser. A full bookshelf was placed to the north and a lit chandelier was hanging from the ceiling. There were two pairs of windows — one near the dresser and the other above the bed. It was exactly like the bedroom she had designed inside the game. A knock came from the door. She jumped. "Milady, I'm ready. We can depart now." She turned in a flash. "A-ah, yes, excellent work, Azure! Let us depart then!" She spared one last glance at the room before she left. This was her room. No doubt about it. She imagined in her head that the room was to be used by her character when she designed it. And now, it had become a reality. Just what in the world was going on?</s> <\|message\|>Akira Sakai Nova --- --- After a long day at the university, shopping for food, and getting some stretching in before her planned gaming binge, Akira was more than ready to flop into the chair before her computer. She had her water, snack, and comfy pajamas all ready, computed booted up, Emerald Odyssey ready to play. She clicked on the game's icon, and took out her phone. She checked to see if there were any in-game videos of the newest update, but it seemed like people were too keen to try it out all to have made any yet. Not too unexpected, given that it was launch day, and that the update had gone live within the last hour or so. Akira tapped on her phone mindlessly as she waited for the game to load. She expected a significant wait when she clicked into one of the servers, but oddly, there was no waiting queue. Setting the phone aside, she readied her fingers at the keyboard and mouse, but then– A blinding white light enveloped her. One minute, she'd been in her room, and the next…She was standing in front of very familiar city gates. Aluvera. The city was distinct and familiar, and she recognized it immediately. She'd seen it often enough for one, and for another, it had been only a few days ago that she'd left her character her the last time she'd played. Right. Her character. Could it be…? Akira looked down, and saw the familiar fashion, as well as the katana sheathed at her hip. Amazed, she touched the clothing, the hilt, the scabbard…It was immaculate, truly. Making a final check, she pinched her cheek, and her eyes slightly watered. Well. It felt real enough, huh. But Isekai wasn't supposed to exist outside of stories… Looking around, the choice of whether to wander farther away into the wide stretch of grassland or to enter the safety of the city was an easy one to make. As she passed through the gates, she caught sight of some guards, and approached. "Hey!" she greeted somewhat forcefully, and walked closer. They shifted slightly, and one of them nodded in invitation. "Do you know how I came to be here?" she asked. "I…am unsure what you are asking, miss," one replied. The guards glanced at each other, apparently deeming her as a weirdo. "You must have travelled here," another pitched in with a shrug. Akira exhaled forcefully, brushing a hand through her hair. Even this minor gesture revealed something new – her wolf ears. She touched them cautiously, trying to look up to see, which was of course impossible. "Ahh, I'd forgotten about this," she muttered, removing the hand from her head, and looking round at her rump. A wide sweeping tail was there to meet her, black furred and swinging from side to side. These additions had been so natural, she'd not felt them at all till now. Also, her mind her been honestly too preoccupied by this whole situation to also remember that she wasn't exactly human anymore. "Miss?" one guard questioned, and Akira realized he'd been saying something while she was absorbed in her inspection. Seeing he'd caught her attention, he added, "Perhaps you should go see a healer. You do, er, seem to be…suffering from some memory loss, perhaps?" he suggested warily. Akira scratched her – Nova's? – ear ruefully. "Yeah, alright. Thanks for the help, mister." Then, she departed, weaving through the crowd as she walked briskly towards the town square. She saw plenty of players, all as confused as she was, trying to log out, or find people they knew…she could be doing that too, she thought, but there was one thing prior to that she wanted to accomplish. Once at the town square, she approached the fountain, and peered into her reflection. "So, it is Nova," she stated, unsurprised. She'd already concluded as much. Should I go by Nova rather than Akira, at least while I'm stuck here? On the one hand, there were people who might recognize her by her real name rather than her game name, but the vice versa also held true. Regardless, her intuition said to go by Nova. Maybe it'd make it easier on her while she had to be in this world, too. And yeah, she was pretty sure there was no easy way out. Still, she began trying to access the menu. "Options…log out…character select…exit…friends list..." she muttered a variety of ingame functions, starting with those that had enabled her to exit the game in the past, and proceeding to those one would expect to find in a game, such as the world chat window, inventory, or the skills menu.</s>	<\|message\|>Character List Shokatsu YuAluvera — City Square "So that's how it's done, huh...?" There was a bit of relief in Yu's voice as he finally managed to pull up his character information, his gaze panning slightly to the side as the familiar menu popped up in his peripherals. Finagling with some invisible, possibly-extant hotbar had been unnecessary, it seemed; simply desiring for the relevant information to spring up had been sufficient. Of course, where one success was found, others followed suit, and the young man quickly cycled through half a dozen other menus—none of which seemed to be able to access the usual system configurations, of course—before he paused, an odd shadow slowly creeping over the skies above. Given how it had been broad daylight moments ago, the weather shifting spontaneously becoming overcast was by no means a good sign. As he closed the windows to give him back full control of his vision, Yu slowed to a halt as he—and more than a few others who had already begun to gather—turned their eyes skyward, only to see those clouds shift to a dark black. Any amount of hesitation in the air was promptly cut through as something immediately cut through the clouds from above, a gaping hole from which a single red light began falling—right onto the middle of the square. Those who were aware immediately began to move to make room for whatever was descending, and those who were not were promptly dragged away by the tides of people shifting to make room. Of course, no few number among them—Yu included—furtively drew their weapons in response. The fountain in the center of the square, it seemed, had been the unknown assailant's target, and its subsequent destruction as they landed threw stone dust and debris all over. When it had cleared, however, what was left behind in the rubble was a brown-haired man, his bronze-colored armor twisted and worn as he knelt upon the ruined earth. The pool of blood forming under him showed no such promising future, but what was more troublesome were his words soon after. "The gates... Have been opened..." Whether those words were meant as a warning or as a threat mattered little—at least, compared to the creatures flying out from the clouds unto the city. As far as Yu could tell, they seemed to be a mix of griffins, sphinxes, and harpies—none of which he was pleased to see—and were diving towards the city at an alarming rate. There only seemed to be a few dozen in total, thankfully enough, but that small number was still more than enough to lay siege to the city if left unchecked. As a massive sphinx swept down from the skies above to strike at him, though, Yu tumbled out of the way before looking back at the creature. Though he had no personal experience fighting with the weapon, it felt as if his body did. Hopefully that would actually mean something, given how it seemed to be moving around for seconds. With his blade at the ready, Yu took a deep breath and focused his gaze upon the monster before moving into a more proper battle stance, his sword pointed forward as he struck out at its' wings in hopes of equalizing the battlefield——!</s>
<\|description\|>Adiran 157 Male Adiran stands at a little over 10ft with a 45ft wingspan and 33ft from nose to tail. His body is covered in sharp, overlapping scales that are a mix of silver and white with icy blue eyes. A spiny ridge of many scales runs from his head all the way down his back in between two large horns that end at his tail where it flares out into a series of spikes at the tip. His body is fairly slender, focused more on dexterous maneuvers and flexibility than brute strength. While in human form Adiran has the same slender build that his draconic form has. He also retains the white coloration to his hair and icfy blue of his eyes. He has a pale complexion due to living most of his life in the Kingdom of Nihn and thankfully most scars that mar his skin are covered by the clothes and armor he wears. Clothing wise he wears mostly natural tones of dark leathers mixed with blacks and whites that are common in his homeland. Much of what he wears is lined with furs that can be removed when he travels southward. Across his back he has crossed sheaths for his two short swords as well as several daggers on his belt. Observant, ambitious, curious, charismatic, impatient Hailing from the frozen north in the mountains surrounding Jorgun, Adiran, and his family, have a particular affinity for frost and cold. He can breath a sheer cold that flash freezes most that it touches or sends jagged spikes of ice jutting out from the ground. While skilled in the air, when it comes to combat, Adiran prefers to force his enemies to the ground where he can lash out with teeth, claws, and spikes while using his slender build to avoid heftier blows. In human form he also retains his skill with frost magic, sending spikes of ice or freezing the air around his foes. When not utilizing his magic he prefers the quickness of dual-wielding daggers or short swords in rapid strikes. Adiran grew up high in the mountains in the Kingdom of Nihn nearby the capital city of Jorgun along with others of his kind. He spent a great deal of time with his parents and siblings, and learning how to survive in the snowy peaks. Since the peaks of the mountains were so far removed from the human civilizations he spent most of his time in his draconic form, as did the rest of his family, well outside the view of humans. Unfortunately, that meant that he had little to no experience actually utilizing his glamour and blending in with the humans, and his family had a general degree of distrust as it was the humans who ran magical creatures of the world away. Despite his family's general disinterest in mingling with humans, except for when necessary, Adiran found himself intrigued by the Kingdom and its people that lived below the mountains and the wealth that they were gathering. He wanted to learn about them as much as he possibly could. They were different from dragons and it interested him greatly. Once he reached adulthood and found himself free to go where he wished he spent some time in the capital city of Nihn learning everything that he could about humans, and somehow made it by without revealing himself despite the inexperience. He spent several years learning the common trades of the kingdom to a degree that pleased him before moving on to something else. Combat, in human form, was one of the few things that he had not been able to learn in his general exploration, but his zeal caught the attention of a retired soldier from the kingdom's army who agreed to mentor and train him, provided he showed potential. It took several more years in the tutelage of his mentor before he, and his mentor, felt that he had learned all there was that the older man could teach him. It was suggested he join the kingdom's army and fight for the King to expand Nihn, but Adiran wanted to travel and continue to learn, and he now had the capability to do so. He ventured to the Empire, the United Clans, and the Province of Kaelis in his travels. Kaelis in particular grabbed his attention do to the number of dragons that had set up settlements within the area, though the warmer temperatures didn't agree with him as much. He did spend a few years living within one of the settlements known as Whistle Hill where he served to help protect the city. Inevitably he got bored with living in one place and moved to continue his journey around the continent. He struggled with finding a purpose for his travels, beyond just seeing the world and learning about its people. While he enjoyed himself he wanted more from the world. He could hear the rumors of every nation gaining interest in the Province of Kaelis and when he learned of the concerns of the Council and the fact that Whistle Hill was potentially in danger he planned his return to the city to protect the friends that he made there.</s> <\|message\|>Sangu Sangu Outside Whistle Hill For most dragons, a long journey might be seen as an opportunity. It was one of those rare occasions they could shed their human disguise without fear, taking to the skies to stretch their wings and enjoy a moment away from prying human eyes. They'd soar up above the clouds, getting a lungful or two of untainted air and relishing the feeling of the wind catching in their fins, caressing their scales... ... at least, that's what Sangu imagined most dragons might do, but then again, Sangu wasn't most dragons. For him, flight was a slower, clumsier affair, and interspersed with rest-stops as his wings had a tendency to start hurting after a little. It was neither enjoyable nor practical. No, a good journey for Sangu would involve a lot more swimming, or at least slivering, and neither were particularly viable here, at least if he didn't want to be caught. So Sangu had settled for a compromise, something that was slower but still relatively comfortable, and had spent (most of) his journey in human form. Had he approached Whistle Hill from the air, he may have noticed sooner that something was amiss, but instead of seeing the light of the flames or even catching the scent of burning wood, the first sign that things were wrong was a sudden stroke of dizziness that overcame him while strolling down the road. He felt overcome with light-headedness, the air much warmer and more stagnant than it had been moments before. He had to stop and take a rest, even checking himself of any signs of illness or poison. Sangu was a cautious dragon, keeping his distance from others when in civilization and always alert when not, but even he was capable of falling victim to some malady every now and again. With just a vague look over, he couldn't detect any signs of injury or rash. Weirder still, when he felt his forehead, he noticed that he didn't seem to have a temperature, even though his brain felt like it was starting to bake within his skull. It could potentially be some kind of delayed reaction to the cuisine in the last town he passed through - that trout he had been served was at the forefront of his mind - but this seemed a bit extreme for a bit of food-poisoning. As he was considering what might be wrong, he finally began to note the smell of burning, and raised his head up to see the smoke forming above. Well, that can't be good, he thought. He glanced around to make sure no one was looking and, taking a few steps into heavier foliage, dropped his human disguise and took to the air. He saw the light in the distance, flames flickering from the smouldering wreck of what was once a village. Yes, that was definitely not good. His features settled into a wide reptilian approximation of a grimace as he soared a little closer, the searing pain in his mind only growing worse. This confirmed that he wasn't sick, but instead that his physical discomfort was a symptom of his own magic, the connection he had with the trees, flowers and all other forms of plant life in the vicinity. Toxins, flames, careless destruction of the environment... Every time something like that happened near him, he felt a fraction of that pain, both in his body and soul. He landed on the sturdiest tree he could find, wrapping his serpentine form around it as he took a moment to regain his strength and consider his next move. On one claw, he and fire weren't exactly compatible, and in his current condition, he wasn't sure how much help he could be. On the other, this settlement was likely Whistle Hill, his destination where supposedly many of his own kind flocked to in the guise of man. If his own people were down there and they were in trouble, he couldn't just leave them. Besides, the forest itself seemed to be crying out, begging for someone, anyone to help... Sangu sighed as he uncurled from the tree and took to the air once more. He flew slightly higher, hoping his grey scales would cause him to be difficult to see against the smoke. He wasn't exactly sure what he was dealing with right now, if there was an attack or this was some kind of natural disaster, if anyone needed saving or he was too late anyway. All he knew was that he wasn't about to rush in until he knew what was going on.</s> <\|message\|>Onthal Onthal The village of Whistle Hill The Dragon, currently in his Human guise, scowled at the three soldiers standing in front of him. With spear raised, Onthal made his intentions clear. While the Masque did forbid many things, it did allow for the deaths of Humans if necessary. And killing fellow magical creatures was definitely a necessary reason. Before the soldiers could reply to what Onthal said, another man came out from the tree line, brandishing twin blades. While he didn't say anything, Onthal was able to detect that the glamour was in use. The fellow magical creature nodded at Onthal, as he raised his weapons at the soldiers as well. "Are you two idiots?" the soldier laughed, "Get out of here. You have no business here. And this doesn't concern you." Before Onthal could say anything to the soldier, a mighty roar echoed over the village. Onthal immediately looked up, a look of confusion coming over his face at what he saw. A massive red Dragon flew over the village, which caused Onthal to wonder why any Dragon would risk the safety of Masque. After all, Whistle Hill was supposed to have nothing to do with Dragons. One of the soldiers alerted the others to the presence of the Dragon, as it breathed flame at the various buildings of the village. This confused Onthal further, as no Dragon would ever attack their own kind. But as the red Dragon landed a few meters from him, Onthal realized what was going on. As the mighty red Dragon roared again, it was now close enough to Onthal for him to notice it emitted great magic. The Dragon wasn't real. While Onthal had heard of illusion magic, he had never known anyone who had such advanced skill to recreate a whole Dragon. Onthal wanted to look around to see if he could spot the illusion caster, but stopped as he realized that he had to keep up the lie that he had a Dragon on his side. A nervous soldier raised his bow, aiming at Onthal, "So it's true! These heretics have Dragons working for them!" So they knew at least that this village had Humans and Dragons working together, but did they know about the glamour? While Onthal contemplated this, something caught his gaze from further down in the village. A blue and purple Dragon blew a stream of water at soldiers who were chasing several villagers, before retreating back into the sky. Onthal was glad that someone was rescuing the villagers while he and the others were attracting the attention of most of the soldiers. The soldier kept pointing his arrow at Onthal, "Let's just kill them." But before he could fire, a thick fog rolled in from farther into the village. Taking advantage of this, Onthal sprinted away from where he once stood. An arrow whizzed by him, impaling itself into a burning tree. Onthal followed the path of the arrow back to the archer. With a quick movement, Onthal lunged his spear into the soldier's neck. It sprayed blood as he collapsed to the ground. "Come brothers! We have the advantage!" Onthal stated while running through the fog. @Bright_Ops @QuinnWolfe @XxFellsingxX</s>	<\|message\|>Adiran W H I S T L E H I L L P R O V I N C E O F K A E L I S --- Of course these types of people wouldn't think just two of them were capable of taking out everyone who was present here. Maybe they couldn't in their human forms, but that only reinforced the scowl that was spreading across Adiran's face. He knew the purpose of the Masque but it would be so much easier to deal with these assholes if they could just tear them apart with teeth and claws. This definitely concerned him, in more ways than one, and he had friends in Whistle Hill. He hoped they were alright. The scowl was now firmly fixed on his face at the sheer arrogance, "I believe it's you and your troops who have no business here. We have every right to kill you where you stand." That train of thought, and anything else he may have said, were immediately cut off by the sound of a roar and flash of fire. He followed the other man's gaze to see the red dragon breath fire on...an already burning house. Breaking the Masque and attacking a city known for its population of magical creatures amongst the rest of them-that made no sense. He looked closer as it slammed loudly onto the ground nearby them and saw the glimmer of magic surrounding it. An illusion then, and a rather impressive one at that. Well, he wasn't about to let a good distraction go to waste, or give it away. Adiran resisted the urge to laugh at the stupidity of humans. It honestly surprised him every time how dense they were. No matter, it just made it easier to get rid of them quickly. Hopefully with the distraction of the illusory dragon along with some of the other dragons he could see slipping in and out helping protect the townsfolk. That certainly made him feel better and able to focus on the main threat in front of him. Which was currently the soldier pointing an arrow at the other glamoured individual next to him. His muscles tensed in preparation to lunge forward at the soldier but paused as the fog rolled in. He watched the other man sprint off and dodged around to the opposite side as the arrow whisked past. Despite not seeing it clearly he heard the sound of someone getting stabbed and took that as his que. He pulled on his innate magic and ran a quick hand across both his blades imbuing them with the freezing cold of his mountain home. The mist that bled off of them only adding to the eerie fog and strange glow of the burning city. He followed after the sound of the voice of the other magical creature, for once thankful of learning to hunt in less than ideal conditions while living in blizzard conditions for much of his life, as his ears caught the sound of someone to his left. A quick twist to the side prevented a blade from sinking past Adiran's armor, and a downward cross-swing sliced into the solider sending jagged shards of ice outwards from the wound. The soldier staggered back giving him the perfect opportunity to slam his other blade under his ribcage sending the solider to the ground in a crumpled heap. Two more soldiers appeared from the fog, no doubt drawn in by the sound of one of their own being cut down. Dealing with two people at once was not what he'd hoped, but he brought up his blades nonetheless.</s>
<\|description\|>Sepia Al Mond Age 17 Race Human Nationality Mistrali Physical Description Sepia is slightly average, though some might consider her tall while others a shortstack. At 5'7" and seventeen-year-old she is a bit taller than most girls she knows plenty who have a few inches on her. More distinct is her golden irises. Her long, well-kempt hair by comparison is rather inconsequential with shades of brown which is commonplace in pretty much every Kingdom in Remnant. A black hair-tie is the only accessory she pairs her hair with. Characterization If you ever talked to Sepia, you would probably never guess she was in line to inherit a major share in the Mistral Trading Company. Down to earth, kind, and decidedly unpretentious, Sepia rarely shows the silver spoon that is firmly tucked in her mouth. There are some quirks to come with her privilege, but generally such things are more difficult to notice. She is playful, however. Bold, too. She's not exactly much of a 'critical thinker' choosing to instead jump into the fray without a plan most of the time. If she wasn't so good at adapting to a situation on the spot, she'd probably be a terrible huntress. If she was a bit more aware of her own flaws beyond physical weakness she'd probably admit it, too. People around Sepia might find her a bit of a lovable idiot, the kind of person who removes the tension in a room with a quick-witted joke or well-needed pick-me-up. She's probably the first one to brew a cup of tea or tell a ridiculous story. This is not to say Sepia is without any sort of grit. When the stakes are high she gets serious and when the topic of her parents come up she tries to change the subject. While she loves her parents deeply, she doesn't particularly like them. The only person she wants to do right by is herself, or maybe the huntress who inspired her to be one. Backstory The Al Mond family is one of the richest families in Mistral, descending from early scavengers in Anima who discovered rare materials that became valuable through the need to fight Grimm. They would go on to create the Mistral Trading Company alongside the Cerise Family. They would serve as primary rivals to the Schnee and other families in neighboring kingdoms. It would be a legacy that Sepia would be more than aware of, given the persistence of her very demanding parents who would remind her of her responsibilities her whole life. But Sepia liked taking risks. From the very beginning it became clear she had no interest being some accountant or company head, looking instead to her idol, Fern Vermillion, for inspiration. This, of course, originated back to Sepia's childhood when a group of brigands kidnapped her during a festival in Mistral. While traumatic, Sepia was fortunate to have been saved by Fern, a storied Mistrali huntress; a happening that showed her not only how cool the lifestyle of a huntsman was but also how strong they were. Being a child and unable to do anything against her captors, a quiet resentment built in the young heiress and it was from that day she decided she would never be weak again. It would be the first time Sepia's resolve would become apparent to the dismay of her parents. The difficult part would become having her parents approve of her designs on her own life. An effort that Sepia never really felt mattered in the long run since there seemed to be a unending resistance to her ideas. Despite huntresses and huntsmen being seen as highly regarded figures, her mother in particular refused to see the point in such endeavors—or so she told Sepia when she was thirteen-years-old. Seven months later at a gala Sepia decided to do the one thing that her family couldn't ignore; she announced she would be attending Sanctum Academy. The only way she'd be able to control her own destiny would be to assert it in a way that her parents saw as a public spectacle. Her mother was furious with her, but in the end Sepia got her wish. After years of bold escapades and training at Sanctum Academy, her path seems pretty clear as she prepares for her initiation at Haven Academy. Semblance Sepia's Semblance is called Timesweeper, an ability that gives the appearance that the Mistrali woman sees attacks coming before the attacker even telegraphs them. In truth, it's a visual technique of which she is barely able to use effectively in that she adjusts her aura to hypercharge her perception of attacks directed towards her. In short, she sees things slower when activated. This semblance could be quite powerful if trained, but as it is the physical strain on overuse is very high. Who knows how it'll develop in ten or twenty years of use? For the time being it is merely a "holy crap" emergency release button and it'll have to do. Weapon & Fighting Style Elysium and Pandora are non-transformative revolvers crafted by a Mistrali weaponmaster during The Great War and the weapons of choice for Sepia in her role as a Huntress of Mistral. The revolvers are durable weapons that have a chamber for conventional bullets and dust cartridges, allowing to transmutate attacks into powerful attacks on their foes. In conjunction with her weapon, Sepia is a capable combatant. While she can strike enemies at close range with melee attacks from her revolvers she is able to also utilize a strong athletic core with her knees, thighs, and calves. Her athleticism is one of her finest points beyond how she is able to react quickly in the heat of the moment. If a Grimm or criminal corner her they can expect to deal with a flurry of kicks, knee strikes, and flips. Intangibles - Sepia attended combat school at Sanctum Academy and is well-versed in weapon fighting. - Impulsive, doesn't plan ahead which can be a disservice to a team environment. - Cocky and bold, doesn't understand boundaries let alone what her privileges have made her ignorant of. - The first to apologize. Has unrelenting kindness albeit a distinct obliviousness. - Has unlocked her aura and semblance, but is not particularly skilled with it.</s> <\|message\|>Silme Fenerus, or Sil for short "Wow, they really let that guy in?" "Must be because of Reine?" "Even still, how did they manage to convince the headmaster to take in a common thug like that." "Not even born in Mistral, though he'd fit right in with the gangs like all the othe-" "Ssssh, he's looking this way." Silme walks into the quad area with an irritable expression, bag slung over his shoulder as glares towards the gossiping upperclassmen that he'd heard talking about him. He had expected it from kids in his class, doing his best to not let his annoyance at their muttering whispers show on his face. It had been like this the whole way up(so much so he'd taken to jogging up the whole thing in order to get away from the chatter), though luckily there was another celebrity to take the attention off him in the class. Some rich heiress or something whose biggest accomplishment as far as he was aware of was getting kidnapped as a kid. Reine had talked about it when mentioning a colleague of theirs, but he wasn't that interested in an aspiring damsel in distress. She'll probably flunk out and go back to sucking on her silver spoon before the year is out. Silme sapres a quick glance in the rich girl's direction but doesn't really pay her much mind as he goes back to grumbling under his breath, standing tall even under the weight of more than a few suspicious stares. As long as I don't have to deal with her. The last thing I need to tell Reine is I flunked out of this school because some princess couldn't carry her weight. Taking a moment to look behind him, Silme noted a familiar face amongst the crowd, leaping about without a care as if he was getting high off the air. "Well, didn't expect to see you here gear-head."The young faunus just gives a nod of his head, his face and voice remaining neutral even if the distraction of a faint acquaintance helped to take his mind(and temper) off of the rumor mill forming around him. "Hope your gear manages to hold up better for the test than it does when I use it." @Eisenhorn</s> <\|message\|>Bren Adalwolf --- H A V E N A C A D E M Y E N T R A N C E K I N G D O M O F M I S T R A L --- It seemed like there were an endless number of stairs that led up to Haven Academy. Not that it really mattered all that much to Bren, the monotony of steps let his mind calm down a bit as the nerves he hid so well began to rear their ugly heads. He was further away from home and his parents than he'd ever been in his entire life, but this was what he wanted. He had argued with his parents repeatedly to convince them to let him go someplace other than Atlas Academy, and he wasn't about to let cold feet stop him from doing what he loved. A quick mental shake was all he really needed to push those emotions back down and focus more firmly on his surroundings. He felt a bump against his side and let himself glance down at the spectral canine that was currently walking up the stairs next to him. A collection of purple and black energy that bled of in small wisps around the form of one third of his semblance in the shape of a large wolf-like entity. This particular spirit being the first of the three that he summoned while training with his mother, and was the most relaxed of the three, always calmed his nerves even further than he could on his own. Something about it reminded him of home and that was enough to completely put his mind at ease. He gave the spirit a pat on its, mostly, incorporeal form before continuing on. Hopefully he'd be allowed to keep the spirit present, the instructors in Atlas had never really had much of an issue with it, but he didn't know what kind of rules were present at Haven. There were plenty of people, his own age and older, heading up the stairs and he couldn't help letting his gaze wander to try and get an idea of the types of individuals he may end up on the same team with. Everyone had their weapons and the upperclassmen were clear to see as they walked with a bit more confidence than the rest of the group. He could overhear some of the conversation, something about a person named Reine which was not a name he recognized; probably some famous Mistrali hunter if he had to guess. Eh, if it's important I'll hear about it later. He was at Haven to learn after all. The quad was much more open than the stairs and that was something Bren greatly appreciated. While he had no problem being around people it made his skin crawl to be packed in with so many at once without much personal space. Not many people caught his attention has he stepped up the final few steps, though he could see a red-headed young man who appeared to be in several places at once with how quickly he was moving as well as a silver haired individual who looked more than a little pissed off. He made a quick mental note to keep his distance on that one...last thing I need is a fight on my first day at Haven. He'd also heard mention of someone who was from a wealthy Mistrali family, he wasn't sure if it was someone his family had dealings with as they were more on the technological side of things, but he supposed there was always the possibility. A quick sweep of his eyes allowed him to find a space by a bench somewhat away from everyone else where he could post up and continue to people watch to his heart's content. He found it was the easiest way to get an idea of who he would be dealing with, especially if someone didn't know they were being watched. He let himself sink down onto the bench, maybe the stairs had taken a little more effort than he would've liked, and snapped his fingers to command his spirit to post up underneath his legs. He had no intention of letting anything go awry, having just one of his spirits present took very little effort anymore, but it wasn't worth the risk. However, he simply decided to watch and wait to see what he could figure out about the unfamiliar space.</s>	<\|message\|>Sepia Al Mond Location: Haven Academy, Mistral --- Sepia Al Mond hadn't had so much attention on her in months, not since the regional tournament at Sanctum Academy. She had done well enough in that tournament, but she hadn't been a crown victor or anything. A girl from Kuchinashi's combat school had bested her in the second round. People had told her it had been an embarrassing defeat but she had just laughed it off. By the four maidens, she laughed it off now. The brown-haired heiress, or she supposed soon to be ex-heiress, felt some degree of uncomfortable. It was always one or two ways people looked at her—walking on eggshells around her or being in resplendent awe that they could breathe the same air as her. Well, actually, there was a third. It became clear when the people who had flocked around her, some of them upperclassmen, mentioned how a faunus was giving her the stare of death. She didn't hear it much, though; the only thing she could hear was noise. Should she have worn a cloak? or maybe a mask. Not having people recognize her would have been a net benefit, but taking punches of all kinds was kind of the job she had signed up for. While she was stressed by the crowd, she knew she had to keep that under wraps. She wasn't going to make it look like she was weak. The goal was to use Haven Academy as a stepping stone for her career as a huntress and to not ever feel like that again, so a bunch of people hating her or fake-liking her wasn't going to throw her off her feet! "Geez, guys." She managed, "It's not a big deal." Whatever they had said wasn't. The big deal was everyone getting a chance to become real deal apprentice huntsman and huntresses. After all, this was the academy that built up living legends like Fern Vermillion. Someday Sepia would be able to be as confident and strong like her idol. Someday soon. As her eyes averted from the crowd and on the grand hall she could feel an excitement build in her stomach. In a few minutes, the door to being a Grimm exterminator and protector of justice would be open and her calling in life would be all in her grasp! She could barely hold her excitement inside as a wide, soft smile formed on her face as she looked onward as her right hand tightened on the handle of her suitcase. She was going to pass whatever initiation they threw at her. There was no way she wouldn't! To be a huntress of Mistral... there was no other option.</s>
<\|description\|>Silme Fenerus, or Sil for short Age 18 Race Faunus(Timber Wolf) Nationality Atlesian Physical Description Sil is built like a brick wall. A good-looking wall, for sure, but a wall nonetheless. A mixture of his overabundant aura and dedicated training has made the 6'5 Faunus a rather beefed-up individual, which has a somewhat disconcerting disconnect from how soft his features tend to look. Not quite so much that he looks feminine, but with his long hair, thick lashes, and more delicate features, most would expect a much sleeker individual. Granted, this disconnect becomes a little less pronounced when he opens his mouth, showing off a sizable bear of wolfish canines that, along with his tail, stand as the pronouncement of his faunus heritage. As far as clothing goes, Silme dresses practically on missions and tends to throw whatever he can find on when he isn't expected to look nice. His silver-white hair is often tied up in either a ponytail or a braid to keep it out of the way, though why he doesn't just cut it is a question he gets often and never answers. Characterization Silme is defined by two things: a desire for connection and an almost crippling lack of trust in anyone around him. When he was younger, you could hardly ever find a kid more bright-eyed and willing to help those around them, using his natural talents to help around the mine where his parents worked, greeting the guards that kept the Grimm out(even if it usually only got him cold looks and whispered insults), and trying his best to be friends with everyone he could. However, after the accident that took his parents away from him, and the fallout that followed it, he become much more reserved. He talked with others but, even when it came to his new guardian he was afraid to open up or make connections with others. And as he grew up, the small little insults and digs that many in Mistral made his way soon caused him to grow as distrustful of the whole lot of them as they surely were of him. He tries to not let it show or act on the growing distaste and anger he feels but sometimes the things he sees or has to put up with proves too much for him to simply stand back, something that causes the young man no small amount of trouble in life. Backstory Silme grew up in essentially a shanty town, outside one of the many dust mines run by the SDC. A place for those unable to get a home in the city of Mantle, they at least had the benefits of military guards to keep them safe from the Grimm that, needless to say, often found themselves drawn to such places. A lot of the workers liked to whisper how if it weren't for the Grimm, the guards would likely treat them even worse they usually did, rather than just being casually indifferent to their needs. However, for a young Silme, he just found everything to be the start of a new adventure. A born rapscallion that, thanks to being born with awakened Aura, proved to be a lot for most of the adults in the town to handle when he felt up to mischief. Luckily for all, he rarely ever caused much more than the occasional prank and slip up, often using his gifts to help out around the mines where ever he could, and even helping to spook off the occasional Grimm from time to time that managed to sneak back the guards. It was far from an easy life, but it was better than some other days. The best days being when his father's old friend, now a Huntsman of Mistral having managed to leave Atlas when they were kids, would come around to tell him stories about the outside world. One day, he wished that he'd be able to go out and see the world just like her. And then one day, he would get his wish. The accident was sudden and devastating, as the gravity dust that this area was known for suddenly reacted and caused the entire area to implode on itself. All that was left afterward was a hyper-condensed orb of rock within a mile-wide crater. Sil would have found himself among those dead if not for being babysat by his father's huntsman friend, Reine. The town, however, was gone. As were most of the people. But in the days that followed, the only new the young man ever saw was on the rise in gravity dust prices, and talk about the lives of the guards who managed the station. If the miners were mentioned at all, it was as a statistic, and barely given much focus at all. More than anything else that followed, this is what caused Silme to grow cold and dispassionate to humans. The fact that hundreds of innocents had died. . . and none of them seemed to care. They called it an accident, a tragedy, a horrible loss of life, but spoke about it in the same tone one would speak about a particularly nasty day of work. There was no empathy, no outrage from anyone who wasn't a faunus. Just a cold statement of fact and a number. Reine would take him under their wing, raising them in mistral to the best of their ability, but there was always a distance between them, even as they taught him how to be a Huntsman shortly after he asked. He started getting into more fights, and got a reputation in school for being willing and able to put even some of the notirous criminal elements in the city through walls, though that often came with it's own complications. When he finally was accepted into the academy, it was on a probationary measure that he behave, beign told excessively that he was only allowed this chance because of Reine's reputation, and that if he were to act out, they both would suffer consequences. Semblance Restraint: Silme is a rare type in the world of Remnant, born with an awakened semblance and thus, having lived with it all of his life, as well as being gifted with an insane amount of aura to accommodate the nature of his semblance. A side effect of this abundance of life energy is Silme growing quickly and heartily, despite growing up in less than favorable conditions for most of his early life and being near superhumanly strong thanks to the use of innate Aura enhancement. As for the semblance itself, it technically serves as a hindrance rather than a boon he can actively control, a set of three blocks on his aura. By removing these locks through reaching for specific emotional triggers, he can drastically increase his combat performance by flooding his body with more and more aura. As each chain is broken, Silme gets noticeably faster, stronger, and exudes an ever-increasing amount of aura, like a blazing silver flame. The first of the chains, Lædingr, is the easiest to unlock by tapping into a moment of memory of great joy or happiness. Dromi, the second chain, requires a moment of great grief or regret to be unleashed, often coming with a much more aggressive and berserk fighting style as the rush of energy starts to mess with his head. Silme has never found the trigger to unlock the third chain, only knowing it exists through the gut instinct that there is likely more of his ability he could tap into. Whether or not he should, however, is another question entirely. The blocks on his aura are in place for a reason, and breaking them often leads to no small level of exhaustion, pain, and damage to his body due to the sheer strain of harnessing that much power and withstanding the immense forces he exerts as he fights. With training, he has managed to break and lock the first chain at will . . . almost. It's not exact, but he has enough control to release it in quick bursts to minimize the drain on himself, but even that can be extremely taxing. Once the second, and presumably third, chains are broken, then it will continue to burn until his body fails him and he can't keep it up anymore Weapon & Fighting Style As of now. . . Silme doesn't use a proper weapon. He has tried to train with a good number of them, but he's found all of them to be a bit awkward to hold and, more importantly, unable to stand up to the force of his blows once he starts using his semblance. As such, he has learned to make use of the stores of Aura he was gifted with, focusing almost entirely on improving his aura-enhanced CQC skills. In particular, he likes to take advantage of his impressive strength to grapple his foes into submission though he also can throw out some devastating blows with just some straightforward punches, jabs, and kicks. When it comes to using Dust, however, Silme has a bit of an affinity for the use of more archaic Dust arts, weaving it into his clothes to allow him to manipulate it on the fly. However, he only has small amounts of the material since he tries to source his supplies from places that don't work with the Schnee Dust Company if hec an, and is often left with lower quality products. As such, while he has the talent for the art, he has precious few chances to truly practice it. Intangibles Silme is a pretty avid reader and book learner, taking every chance he can to study up on subjects that interest him, and taking extensive notes on them. In particular, he has an interest in the study of Dust, its production and refinement cycle, and ways to improve the lives of the workers who risk everything just so the nations of the world can keep ticking. A very active advocate for Faunus rights, which has wonhim little in the way of friends amongst the people of Mistral. Silme's tail is often a very good indicator of whatever he's truly feeling, no matter what he actual says or emotes outwardly. It is the one part of his posture that he can't properly control, and it irritates him when it gets brought up. Having been trained by a Hunstman along with the typical curriculum expected of a Huntsman trainee, Silme is very much a well-trained combatant, even with his lack of a weapon.</s> <\|message\|>Midori Yoake Location: Haven Academy Mentions: @PrankFox "Still excited even after that doomsday speech we just got huh?" "Eh? Oh, yes of course! Sure it should be concerning, but anyone who planned to take this seriously should have been as ready as they could be already! If a little warning like that spooked them, well, I guess they weren't going to be making it far either way. I'm not gonna worry though personally, right now it should be fairly easy. Go to the hotel, and wait for things to kick off proper. Might do some maintenance while I wait, I'll have to find something to do." Midori was caught mid stride, figuratively speaking, and practically rebounded off nothing to shift his focus on the one who'd made the remark to begin with. Tall, sturdy, brilliantly red hair and impressively blue eyes. Well dressed too, and Midori had to look up, as usual, to meet the boys gaze. He offered a warm smile as he finished rambling, however briefly, and extended his hand as he picked up from where he left off on his ramblings. "Right, introductions, can't forget those! Midori Yoake, it's a pleasure to meet you! You definitely seem like you were all but built for this, I can imagine you'll go through the initiation with flying colors, you and plenty of the other people I've seen around already as well. I'm hoping anyone who sticks around is serious about this though, I don't want to see anyone getting buried, I mean who does right? But I'm hoping the scare speech was just that, to spook those who aren't ready or prepared for this, well, as ready or prepared as we can be given how little information there is floating around out there! We should probably get going though, don't want to be late, right? Can chat on the way!" It seemed, better or worse, Midori had decided he would be walking with this new friend to the hotel, after all, most of the folks seemed off put by his outgoing approaches. Someone approaching him first that didn't already at least know him was a pleasant change of pace, and it would no doubt become apparent the energetic young man loved to chatter.</s> <\|message\|>Bren Adalwolf --- H A V E N A C A D E M Y T O T H E C E L E S T I A L S W A N K I N G D O M O F M I S T R A L --- There was a brief flicker of surprise and amusement across Bren's face as he was assaulted with a sudden deluge of chatter from the other student. He had heard him talking at a rapid speed to other people, but he had assumed that maybe they were familiar with each other. Apparently it was just how he talked. It took him a moment to piece together the individual topics that were in the rush of words. "Hard to tell with a Headmaster who has the most universally impassive face in the country what the real intention is. You'd think someone would hear about it if students are dying during the initiation." He did agree that this would probably be the easiest part of the initiation. All they had to do was sit and wait for the assistant to come and get them. There was the possibility that there would be something more to this part, but he could only guess, or wait and see. He reached out and shook the other boy's, Midori as he very quickly learned, hand before having to focus all his attention on his bespectacled companion. "Bren Adalwolf. Pleasure to meet you as well." He was much more used to either being by himself, or being in more serious company given the the combat school in Atlas, so this was a bit more than he was planning on handling. "Hopefully not, but the Headmaster didn't really seem like one for jokes." If someone did die that would reflect poorly on the school in his opinion. Clearly Midori seemed intent on continuing this conversation on the way to the hotel. He followed after him after a pause and a faint sigh. What had he gotten himself into. Still he didn't want to be rude so he matched pace with Midori, it'd be useful to get to know other people since he might end up being paired with them for the remainder of his time at Haven. If he was trapped in conversation he'd make the best of it. "So what's your specialty then? You mentioned maintenance so I assume mechanics of some kind?" Maybe if he could find a topic that just set Midori off on a tangent he wouldn't have to do much talking himself.</s>	<\|message\|>Silme Fenerus, or Sil for short "Well she seems nice. . . " Silme mutters from his seat amongst the crowd of prospective students, finding the whole thing to be a bit over-done. This wasn't some battle royale bloodbath, this was an academy testing ground, they weren't going to intentionally try to get these students hurt to that degree, so it felt like a pretty cheap scare tactic on the part of the school. Still, it made it clear that they might try to pull something at this hotel, so Silme flipped open his Scroll to register a few vids to help him keep awake just in case. He'd spent too long training just to get outed in his sleep. As the crowd dispersed and started heading towards the fancy residence, the faunus spotted Midori off in the distance chatting with some other guy. For a moment, he considered walking over to say hey, but after catching some sideways glances from both the younger and older students milling about, decided that he should keep to his own advice. Best that the gearhead gets some more socially acceptable friendships rather than just being stuck with Silme and his thug stigma. Shoving the pamphlet into his pocket, he couldn't help the slight flick of irritation that his tail made as began his walk down the long winding set of stairs. While he hadn't minded too much on the way yup, knowing that he'd come all this way only to stick around for a 5-minute lecture definitely soured his mood a little.</s>
<\|description\|>Dune Hatchet Age 18 Race Faunus (Grey Wolf) Nationality Mistrali Physical Description Dune isn't a particularly outstanding individual, at least among the Faunus. She possesses a head of partially-unkempt, dim gray hair which she is content to leave where it lies, not bothering to style it in any particular fashion. This dark silvery hair contrasts the fairness of her skin and highlights the light golden hue of her eyes, which seem especially watchful. These features combined with the mature mien she expresses can make her seem as though she leans toward the more sober side - which isn't wrong. When it comes to physique, Dune also isn't unusual in any outstanding regard, aside from her androgynous appearance, if one were to count that. She boasts some muscle definition from training, but she isn't strapped. She does, however, possess a more unique physical feature in a slim, thick-furred canid tail with the same coloration as her hair, though with a darker gray tip. She prefers to keep a wardrobe of mostly darker colors, and prefers comfort and/or function over fashion - though she does regularly wear a clean, black Bolero hat which once belonged to her mother. Characterization Sedate is likely the most apt way to describe Dune in one word. Her sober mood is the forwardmost detail of her personality, most who've met her would say. Though that's not to say she's a killjoy - she is open to venturesome activities, but her hesitance to get close to others makes her a tad bit awkward when it comes to pursuing such things. Her stolidity of sorts is, however, a steadfast effigy for others to rely on in intense situations. Dune is seemingly very strong-willed - even if she takes no opportunity to show it day to day, she has stalwart nerves. Were she more communicative, this resolute nature would make her a very good leader - though as is, her teamwork skills are lacking. Backstory Dune's upbringing was a bit of an unusual one. She was born the only child to two wealthy Mistrali. Arylide and Fallow Hatchet were wed shareholders of a respectable stock in the Mistral Mining Company, and were active members in one of the leading institutions of Grimm field-study. Due to the latter of these facts, they duo took it upon themselves to reside amongst one of the small villages situated in the lands west of Mistral. They bolstered the village against the Grimm with their wealth, allowing them to live there more comfortably than one may expect. It was only a year or so that they'd live in the village before Fallow discovered her enceintity. There was a short period of worry for them about raising their child in such a dangerous area when all of Mistral was available to them, but ultimately they decided it was safe enough. Which was true enough - mostly. Although the village was well defended for quite a time, it was in Dune's pre-teen years that their confidence proved to be in vain. The village was sieged by a group of Grimm that managed to catch a gap in its defenses, wreaking absolutely destruction on the people. It was a horror of an attack for the village goers, but for Dune the destruction around her was almost in slow motion - for one of the first attacks of the Grimm decimated her home and trapped the whole family inside. It was in desperation that Dune tried to free her parents from the flaming ruin of the house, trying to persevere against the heat and blaze of the destruction. Her efforts were in vain though and she was eventually rescued herself from the inferno by her emerging semblance, though not without physical and emotional scars of her own - for the flames scarred her body and the sudden loss of her parents scarred her mind. It took her quite a time to recover from the physical trauma - her body eventually returning to "normal" through the use of grafts, and a robotic prosthetic for her right arm - but the mental trauma shaped her personality to the current day. After that day she was less responsive - and certainly less outgoing. It even took her a time to begin talking to her grandmother, who she began to live with in Mistral. Even though she became a solemn and distant girl - she still had aspirations. One of which was to destroy the Grimm to achieve a form of justice for her family. It wouldn't bring them back, nothing would - but she didn't know how else to cope. And so from a young age, she pled a fealty to the destruction of the Grimm. Her grandmother was concerned, but couldn't stop the girl from getting what she wanted, and Dune eventually reached the point where she could finally take the initiation exam. Semblance Scatter Dune's semblance is one that, although not well-exercised, is still very useful for escaping problematic scenarios and enabling more devastating attacks. Scatter allows Dune to warp anything her aura runs through in a special manner, rupturing it into billions of tiny, bright particles for a very brief period before reforming it. Her articulation of her Semblance isn't very progressed, so she has only managed to utilize it when directing it at herself and materials on her person. She has, however, learned how to move the particles since she's started trying to train it. Scatter becomes more and more taxing with successive activations. Weapon & Fighting Style Dune's weapon * has yet to be named, but is nonetheless a formidable tool. Upon donning the thick yet lightweight gauntlet, the set of dormant coils wrapped around it come to life as Dune's Aura surges through them, causing them to swell into two long and flexible, yet exceptionally durable, tendrils. The tendrils appear to be very much completely prehensile and can extend quite a distance, allowing them serviceable reach with the slim blades that grace each tip. The gauntlet is capable of taking in dust crystals - usually gravity dust, to allow the tendrils to contend with the strength of the Grimm - which it can also expel in a close-range, medium-strength blast through a disc situated on the palm. Dune uses the physical strength and agility of her tendril weapon to outmaneuver and sometimes match the strength of the Grimm. Their reach and general girth of utility make them a particularly useful weapon offensively and defensively, however they are rather risky compared to true ranged weapons, as she still has to get somewhat close - only being able to outrange the Grimm by a small margin, in most cases. Intangibles Dune is both fortunate and not in the sense that her past has both strengthened and weakened her. After the incident when she was younger, her left eye was replaced by a robotic prosthetic eye, and her right arm in a similar manner - giving her a tokenbag of advantages over her colleagues. However, she is clearly not a team player, yet - and she is reluctant to retreat even if those around her are unwilling to help her against slim odds. This is not to say she isn't a capable strategist - she is fairly quick-witted in a battle, but taking others into account isn't hardwired into her brain.</s> <\|message\|>Bren Adalwolf --- H A V E N A C A D E M Y E N T R A N C E K I N G D O M O F M I S T R A L --- It seemed like there were an endless number of stairs that led up to Haven Academy. Not that it really mattered all that much to Bren, the monotony of steps let his mind calm down a bit as the nerves he hid so well began to rear their ugly heads. He was further away from home and his parents than he'd ever been in his entire life, but this was what he wanted. He had argued with his parents repeatedly to convince them to let him go someplace other than Atlas Academy, and he wasn't about to let cold feet stop him from doing what he loved. A quick mental shake was all he really needed to push those emotions back down and focus more firmly on his surroundings. He felt a bump against his side and let himself glance down at the spectral canine that was currently walking up the stairs next to him. A collection of purple and black energy that bled of in small wisps around the form of one third of his semblance in the shape of a large wolf-like entity. This particular spirit being the first of the three that he summoned while training with his mother, and was the most relaxed of the three, always calmed his nerves even further than he could on his own. Something about it reminded him of home and that was enough to completely put his mind at ease. He gave the spirit a pat on its, mostly, incorporeal form before continuing on. Hopefully he'd be allowed to keep the spirit present, the instructors in Atlas had never really had much of an issue with it, but he didn't know what kind of rules were present at Haven. There were plenty of people, his own age and older, heading up the stairs and he couldn't help letting his gaze wander to try and get an idea of the types of individuals he may end up on the same team with. Everyone had their weapons and the upperclassmen were clear to see as they walked with a bit more confidence than the rest of the group. He could overhear some of the conversation, something about a person named Reine which was not a name he recognized; probably some famous Mistrali hunter if he had to guess. Eh, if it's important I'll hear about it later. He was at Haven to learn after all. The quad was much more open than the stairs and that was something Bren greatly appreciated. While he had no problem being around people it made his skin crawl to be packed in with so many at once without much personal space. Not many people caught his attention has he stepped up the final few steps, though he could see a red-headed young man who appeared to be in several places at once with how quickly he was moving as well as a silver haired individual who looked more than a little pissed off. He made a quick mental note to keep his distance on that one...last thing I need is a fight on my first day at Haven. He'd also heard mention of someone who was from a wealthy Mistrali family, he wasn't sure if it was someone his family had dealings with as they were more on the technological side of things, but he supposed there was always the possibility. A quick sweep of his eyes allowed him to find a space by a bench somewhat away from everyone else where he could post up and continue to people watch to his heart's content. He found it was the easiest way to get an idea of who he would be dealing with, especially if someone didn't know they were being watched. He let himself sink down onto the bench, maybe the stairs had taken a little more effort than he would've liked, and snapped his fingers to command his spirit to post up underneath his legs. He had no intention of letting anything go awry, having just one of his spirits present took very little effort anymore, but it wasn't worth the risk. However, he simply decided to watch and wait to see what he could figure out about the unfamiliar space.</s> <\|message\|>Sepia Al Mond Location: Haven Academy, Mistral --- Sepia Al Mond hadn't had so much attention on her in months, not since the regional tournament at Sanctum Academy. She had done well enough in that tournament, but she hadn't been a crown victor or anything. A girl from Kuchinashi's combat school had bested her in the second round. People had told her it had been an embarrassing defeat but she had just laughed it off. By the four maidens, she laughed it off now. The brown-haired heiress, or she supposed soon to be ex-heiress, felt some degree of uncomfortable. It was always one or two ways people looked at her—walking on eggshells around her or being in resplendent awe that they could breathe the same air as her. Well, actually, there was a third. It became clear when the people who had flocked around her, some of them upperclassmen, mentioned how a faunus was giving her the stare of death. She didn't hear it much, though; the only thing she could hear was noise. Should she have worn a cloak? or maybe a mask. Not having people recognize her would have been a net benefit, but taking punches of all kinds was kind of the job she had signed up for. While she was stressed by the crowd, she knew she had to keep that under wraps. She wasn't going to make it look like she was weak. The goal was to use Haven Academy as a stepping stone for her career as a huntress and to not ever feel like that again, so a bunch of people hating her or fake-liking her wasn't going to throw her off her feet! "Geez, guys." She managed, "It's not a big deal." Whatever they had said wasn't. The big deal was everyone getting a chance to become real deal apprentice huntsman and huntresses. After all, this was the academy that built up living legends like Fern Vermillion. Someday Sepia would be able to be as confident and strong like her idol. Someday soon. As her eyes averted from the crowd and on the grand hall she could feel an excitement build in her stomach. In a few minutes, the door to being a Grimm exterminator and protector of justice would be open and her calling in life would be all in her grasp! She could barely hold her excitement inside as a wide, soft smile formed on her face as she looked onward as her right hand tightened on the handle of her suitcase. She was going to pass whatever initiation they threw at her. There was no way she wouldn't! To be a huntress of Mistral... there was no other option.</s>	<\|message\|>Dune Hatchet DuneMentions: None Location: Haven Academy --- --- Today was finally the day. The journey to becoming a huntress was, in truth, long underway for Dune - but today was the day it finally felt like the ship would leave the port. With every step she ascended she felt the excitement building up within her - but she knew she had to stem the flow of emotions within her that would surely be felt by everyone else as well. Even though the events that brought her here had been unfavorable, to say the least, she couldn't help but admit to herself that the aspects of becoming a huntress found a place in her heart that stirred more than the desire for vengeance. The training so far, although basic, just made her feel stronger. The weapons fed her curiosity. The trek to her true goal had only just begun, but it had already helped to make her feel something. But she knew it would only be temporary until she did finally achieve what she started this journey to achieve. But for now, as she ascended towards the assembly area of Mistral up the seemingly endless stairs, that goal was a far ways away. Dune shook away her thoughts and spared a few glances to the people around her. She wondered how many of these prospective students would really make it as huntsmen and huntresses. It was hard to judge just off of idle demeanor, but there were a few who seemed pretty composed. Others.. not so much. She wasn't concerned about her own success - success was the only choice for her. She simply had no other options. Eventually she reached the peak of the stairs, which opened into a wide, populated plateau upon which rested the renowned Haven Academy. It was the visage of this academy in the distance that had helped spur her to train harder and harder each day as this moment came closer and closer. While she wasn't entirely fond of crowds, hopefully she could manage to limit the number of people surrounding her - but even if she couldn't, that wouldn't dissuade her from taking in this momentous occasion. She let an idle hand move to feel the leathery case that was clasped to the back of her waist. Of course it would still be there, but just feeling that her weapon was nearby comforted her. Dune closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she stood at the top of the steps, the soft breeze brushing her tail as she took in the mountainous air as if for the first time, despite having lived there for years. Her eyes opened again and scanned the area for somewhere for her to await the assembly's commencement soon. She wandered around for a short time before finding a tree to post up against, leaning to it and letting her eyes wander from underneath the coverage of her sleek black bolero hat.</s>
<\|description\|>Clive T. Davidson Age: 33 Appearance: Clive stands at just under 6'0 with a medium build and broad, angular face. A prominent brow ridge frames tired, but piercing eyes that seem to read your soul if you stare too long. He has a tendency to wear jackets and long pants as often as is feasible if the weather permits in order to conceal equipment on his person wherever he goes. Concept: Disgraced Texas Ranger who's currently wanted for the murder of a suspect in his custody and his partner. What none of his peers know is that what he killed was actually the thing that ate them, but of course he couldn't tell them that. He's already a wanted murderer and a cop killer to boot. Adding "believes in werewolves" to his case file would do him no favors. Clive has traveled the country since that night on a one man crusade to find everything that goes bump in the night and shoot it until it stops moving. Recently, he came to the conclusion that he's reached the peak of what he can do alone and has been looking for a team he can work with. Powers/Skills: Clive is just as human as everyone else. No special powers, no seer signs, no dip in the Styx for him. He just knows a lot about a lot of different beasties and he's a clever son of a gun. His experience with investigation in a law enforcement setting transitioned very well into investigating supernatural activity (not to mention his firearms training) and he's grown to be very resourceful, using any and all means at his disposal to level the playing field against creatures of the night. His favorite tool is his smooth bore, pump action shotgun and his handmade shotgun shells, but he also uses a variety of hobo-tier tactics and equipment. Clive is not above sticking an iron shiv into a fey folk's neck. He also plays a mean hand of poker and is worryingly good with a hatchet. Character Wants: To expand his monster hunting knowledge and perhaps a group to help in his endeavors. Also, a bed. He's gotten more than a little tired of sleeping in his car. Writer Wants: Looking to participate in an active roleplay with a diverse cast of characters. I also want Clive to grow as a person and make him really work at being a team player in a number of ways such as accepting that his way isn't always the best way, relying on others, etc as well as sharing everything he knows about committing war crimes against monsters.</s> <\|message\|>Junia Harris She dreamed of lights. Shimmering, glowing lights that never faded and never dimmed. They shown up from beneath the water, like a lighthouse in reverse, guiding her ever deeper. There were hints, down there, of a city. A city with spires that seemed to ripple as the water flowed through them. A city with streets that turned ever inwards. A city with some serious electric bills ... Junia stared at the ceiling. She needed less sleep these days, but what she got was infected by those images. They didn't bother her at all, and that fact bothered her. She should be worried. But there was nothing sinister about the dreams. They just were. The city felt like it had waited for eons, it could wait a few more. Her bladder, however, was far less patient. She shoved the comforter aside, which earned her a displeased look from a cat, and forged her way to the bathroom. Her little duplex wasn't much, but some thoughtful soul had made sure it had a spacious bathroom with a full soaker tub. That - and its convenient location not far from the Sunday Group headquarters - more than made the rent worth it. Morning ablutions taken care of, she wandered towards the kitchen, traveling only as fast as the cats around her ankles would allow. "You two would get fed a lot faster if you stopped trying to trip mommy, you know." Ellsie, as always, was imperious. She stayed just out of reach, her profile stately, as she loudly proclaimed her hunger. Dewey - dear sweet, stupid Dewey - tried to brush against her legs, tripped over his own paws, and tumbled onto his fuzzy behind. She'd found both as strays, and she was becoming increasingly convinced that Dewey was part ferret. She fed them both from the same tuna can, then punched the button on the coffee maker. Breakfast would be miso soup again. Well, after she cleared the papers off the kitchen table. It was just a little too convenient sometimes. But the dashi was already bubbling before she even halfway finished sorting, and so it was breakfast in the living room again. After that, it was time to face the mirror. The lines on her neck had gotten no darker, thank God. She'd spent a week with blurry vision when the nictitating membrane showed up, but that would still be better than explaining gill slits to the hairdresser. Still, better to wear a light scarf. A dress, a cardigan, and the uniform was complete. She was almost close enough to work that she could walk, but her old Subaru still had boxes and boxes of paperwork that really did need to be accessioned. No reason for anymore delays. Time for work. --- The building draped itself on the slope. It was made of the same yellow-ish brick as every other small office complex on this half of the city. Beside it was an old grocery store converted into a warehouse, and on the other side was an old warehouse converted into a food co-op. The circle of life. Naturally, the parking lot was on the steepest part of the slope. There was a railing at the bottom in case of a failed parking brake. Thankfully the Subaru never budged. Once again she decided against unloading the boxes. The sign out front listed a half-dozen organizations with well-meaning, nonsensical names. All of them were just slightly true. The "Council for Stress-Related Disorders" could certainly refer to the Sunday Group, given how many members developed PTSD. The "District Library Assistance Board" was her baby; grants went from the state to the local libraries through D-LAB. No one needed to know that the whole organization ran on a laptop in her office. The trick to the office building was to think of it as a mushroom: the visible part was just for show. The real action was underground. Each floor looked like it was terraced onto the slope, but they actually ran back into the slope for more than twice their apparent length. Then they turned down, deep underneath the city. God only knew how deep, really, and She wasn't telling. It was bigger than it ought to be, and older than it could possibly be, and stranger than anyone could imagine. It was the Sunday Group. And, eh, it was a job.</s> <\|message\|>Manny Rockefeller His alarm emitted an odious beeping, and he knew if he didn't turn it off, it would continue for twenty minutes. Even Manny didn't have the patience and overt laziness to wait that out, and so he opened his eyes slightly, gazing around his cramped apartment without moving a muscle. Years spent hunting things most people didn't believe in gave one a healthy paranoia. Anything sifting through a room wouldn't have been able to tell he was awake. The detective had learned never to groan or even breathe differently once he awoke. It had freaked out more than one woman, he recalled with a snort of amusement. As soon as he had moved here, he knew it would be a bit less roomy than his last place. Apartment sizes were often larger with numbers, and they got progressively smaller the more reliant on letters they were. Apartment A's were usually shitty basement apartments, private restroom optional. When he was sure that no one was in here with him, he leaped out of the bed. He scratched his unkempt hair and finally let himself groan, using his free hand to turn the TV on. His big toe touched the power button to his retro Xbox 360, and suddenly it zoomed onto the screen. He clicked 3 buttons, and his playlist came on. His music, loud and full of drums and bass, suddenly popped up, and he headed towards the bathroom, passing by one of his noir posters. His shower was quick, and luckily it didn't seem to be full of iron tasting water this time. Must be his birthday. He put on his pants, and buttoned up his shirt before he took a look outside. Two white males working. He recognized them from his daily scope outs. Not hard to figure out. One seemed to have a significant other, the lankier one. He had the distinct feeling the lankier one was a cultist of some sort. The sulphur in the dumpster he frequented was a fair clue, as was the 'new age' books of wiccan spells he'd seen through the window. Nothing he couldn't handle. He'd check later, but for now, business called. He put his effects in his pockets. He checked to see his pistol was full, and placed it into easy reach on his person, grip poking into the small of his back from within his shirt. His switch blade was in his sock. "Time to start trouble." he said to himself, opening the door and sliding out. He needed food, and decided he'd go out and get some early breakfast before heading to work. He walked into the office with an egg and cheese bagel, and some orange juice in a cup. Paid to be healthy in his line of work, he told himself. He didn't speak to anyone he passed, just waving to whoever noticed him before he entered his office, breathing a sigh of relief once he sat down, retrieving his copy of 'A Thousand Horrors' and turning to page 769 to golems. Word had it a stone statue twenty miles up the road had killed a janitor. He wondered just how possible that was. It paid to be nosy too.</s>	<\|message\|>Clive T. Davidson Unlike the rest of the team who had more permanent housing, Clive had taken to sleeping on a ratty air mattress in the small corner office he'd claimed as his. It was a step up from sleeping in his Jeep in his opinion. The room was rather spartan with no decoration to speak of save a wooden table with a large map of the continental United States tacked to the wall behind it. The map was crisscrossed with strings of yarn and colored pins marking out areas of interest. The table was littered with various newspaper clippings, sticky notes, and a few composition books of various colors containing all his notes and observations in the field. Off in the corner of the room was a large rucksack already packed and ready to go at a moment's notice. A rifle and shotgun leaned against the rucksack and beside them was a pile of ammo boxes neatly stacked to about knee height. A gun rack sat opposite from the bag loaded down with various long guns and a smattering of pistols and revolvers complete with enough boxed ammo to outlast a siege. As he did most mornings, Clive woke with a start, eyes darting around as if he didn't remember where he was. He clutched a hunting knife in a white knuckle grip as last night's less than pleasant dreams faded away. The moment passed quickly as he kicked the blanket off him and stood with the knife still clutched in his fist. He stretched and groaned with relief when his back popped. A thought crossed his mind that maybe he should consider getting a real mattress. Then again, he still wasn't fully convinced this teamwork business would last and if that was the case he would be leaving without the mattress anyway. Pushing the negative thoughts away, Clive retrieved his pistol from under the pillow and tucked it into his waistband as he moved to the door. He was already dressed, having slept in his jeans, stained shirt, and jacket. The man even slept with hiking boots on. It was nigh impossible to catch him more than a few minutes away from being ready for a trek into the mountains. One by one he undid the one-sided deadbolt locks he'd taken the liberty of installing and made his way into the office proper to start the coffee machine. As he waited for the blessed jitter juice, Clive pulled a bag from the cupboard and poured a mouthful of granola directly into his face. He chewed with distended cheeks and waited for the team to gather.</s>
<\|description\|>Clive T. Davidson Age: 33 Appearance: Clive stands at just under 6'0 with a medium build and broad, angular face. A prominent brow ridge frames tired, but piercing eyes that seem to read your soul if you stare too long. He has a tendency to wear jackets and long pants as often as is feasible if the weather permits in order to conceal equipment on his person wherever he goes. Concept: Disgraced Texas Ranger who's currently wanted for the murder of a suspect in his custody and his partner. What none of his peers know is that what he killed was actually the thing that ate them, but of course he couldn't tell them that. He's already a wanted murderer and a cop killer to boot. Adding "believes in werewolves" to his case file would do him no favors. Clive has traveled the country since that night on a one man crusade to find everything that goes bump in the night and shoot it until it stops moving. Recently, he came to the conclusion that he's reached the peak of what he can do alone and has been looking for a team he can work with. Powers/Skills: Clive is just as human as everyone else. No special powers, no seer signs, no dip in the Styx for him. He just knows a lot about a lot of different beasties and he's a clever son of a gun. His experience with investigation in a law enforcement setting transitioned very well into investigating supernatural activity (not to mention his firearms training) and he's grown to be very resourceful, using any and all means at his disposal to level the playing field against creatures of the night. His favorite tool is his smooth bore, pump action shotgun and his handmade shotgun shells, but he also uses a variety of hobo-tier tactics and equipment. Clive is not above sticking an iron shiv into a fey folk's neck. He also plays a mean hand of poker and is worryingly good with a hatchet. Character Wants: To expand his monster hunting knowledge and perhaps a group to help in his endeavors. Also, a bed. He's gotten more than a little tired of sleeping in his car. Writer Wants: Looking to participate in an active roleplay with a diverse cast of characters. I also want Clive to grow as a person and make him really work at being a team player in a number of ways such as accepting that his way isn't always the best way, relying on others, etc as well as sharing everything he knows about committing war crimes against monsters.</s> <\|message\|>Manny Rockefeller The first thing he noticed once he opened the doors to the morgue was the wet slap of the stench that singed his nostril hairs and watered his eyes. It sent images of a melting witch into his mind, but considering the lack of screaming, he doubted it. Manny realized it was going to be one of those strange days, so he simply held himself up and strutted over to the ladies that crowded around the disemboweled and inked corpse. He wasn't privvy to most of their conversation, but he caught the tail end. "You're assuming they're human." He said in way of announcement, sliding in between his coworkers to get a good look at the body. He was fortunate he brought his jacket. The morgue was cold, like hell was. He had never been, but he knew a few that had spent some time there. His jacket collar popped, brushing his cheek and tickling his nose when he turned from the corpse to Eleanor. "Demons cast incantations too, and they don't play by our rules. Not usually anyway. I'm assuming you don't know who this is, else we wouldn't all be here." Kneeling down, he gingerly slid the middle finger of his left hand on some of the pooled ink, raising up to his eyes and examining it with a rub of his thumb. He wasn't any match for a forensics test, but he preferred making his own impressions. His dull brown eyes flashed as he thought aloud. "The victim's body isn't green. That's something at least." He mused, picking himself up and going over to wash his hands in the sink beside the disinfected equipment. Manny had cast on some protective incantations, but he would be damned if he got some weird germs from inside an exploded corpse. "Ink poisoning in the veins usually turns the skin green. Which means this happened very fast. Not to mention it's a broad spell, encased in a strange execution. Ink's been associated with blood and water since the Ilkhanate sacked Baghdad eight hundred years ago." He remarked, thinking of the stories from the chroniclers. Prime time for demons or cultists, or any real sorcerer with a knowledge of lore, and he knew he shouldn't make any real assumptions on the suspect. He shrugged. "Probably even before then. And the human body is mostly made up of both. Just switch around a few syllables and make the proper sacrifice and you can make this happen. My problem was with how quick it was inside the body, and who the fuck this guy is." The door opened again, and Manny hadn't even bothered to look over. "Oh yeah, Clive showed up with me."</s> <\|message\|>Clive T. Davidson Clive heard the tail end of Manny's analysis as he descended the steps after him and gave a nod of greeting to the assembled party. The former had never been one for history the way his coworker was. His methods were much more direct and streamlined: track, identify, destroy. Simple, just the way he liked it (at least as much as dealing with the supernatural could be, anyway). Still, he respected anyone who knew their trade so well. He mentally prepared himself for whatever ungodly thing the boss lady had in store for them as he cleared the last few steps. The smell of rotted flesh hit him and simply rolled off as if it weren't even there. The seasoned hunter had smelled so much decay in his time it simply didn't faze him anymore. Once you've smelled a hundred corpses you've smelled them all, but the sights were always new and exciting in their own uniquely horrible ways. His face screwed up in disgust at the mess on the table as shook his head. "What in the world happened to… him? Her? That?" He shook his head again and made the sign of the cross and muttered a prayer before he approached to get a better look. His hands went to his pockets as he examined the human soup and sighed. "This right here is why I don't fool with magic. Like Granny always said, no good can come of it."</s> <\|message\|>Anna Kerensky, goes by Anna and sometimes Anya, usually when with family and close friends Anna Kerensky --- "You don't fool with magic because you are very boring, Clive," Anna said with a smirk, before another wave of nausea threatened the stability of her stomach, and left her side eyeing the desecrated bucket of organs. "Don't you know that Jesus himself was a wizard?" She added when she finally managed to stave off the urge to vomit. Teasing the Gunslinger had rapidly become a cherished hobby for the trash alchemist. Clive was the serious sort. He was serious about guns. He was serious about killing monsters. And he was serious about his beliefs, less frequently uttered as they were. Anna, frequently lost in her own arcane fueled adventures, felt his seriousness had to be challenged, lest Eleanor and Clive somehow turn the Sunday Group into the Very Serious Sunday Group.</s> <\|message\|>Junia Harris "Actually, Jesus only started out as a wizard," replied the woman named after someone 'outstanding among the apostles'. "After his resurrection, he was technically a lich." heartbeat "Sorry, one of mom's favorite jokes." "Anyway, we're not looking at a case of water into wine, we're looking at a case of ink-injected-into-body, like an ink-jet refill gone horribly wrong. Morton Smith isn't going to help us here." Junia turned back to Anna. "I think you're right; the manner has to be significant. Using ink to kill someone has to be symbolic of something. Is there anyway to figure out who this guy was? If he was an author or a journalist, that might be clue."</s>	<\|message\|>Clive T. Davidson Clive turned to Anna with the great grandpappy of all disapproving glares. Every day it seemed the alchemist said some new and creative blasphemy and he couldn't help being mildly impressed. This feeling was, of course, far surpassed by his irritation and concern for her eternal soul. Maybe someday, some day in the far, far future, Lord willing and the creek don't rise, he would get through to her. "I pray for you every day." With a glance at Junia and narrowed eyes he added, "And now you too." Returning his attention to the corpse, he scratched his chin for a moment in thought. Considering the elaborate nature of the death it told him a few things about what it could be but a lot more about what it wasn't. "Whatever happened here was planned and took some sorta intelligence to pull off. This wasn't a feeding, or at least not any kind I've seen. The whole ink business makes me think it was something that can think, something that schemes, so we'd best be real careful going forward." Clive didn't like things that could scheme. Schemers are unpredictable, sometimes messy, and don't always follow patterns. He didn't like when the prey was as smart or smarter than him. That made things less of a hunt and more of a fair fight with extra steps and he never fought fair if he could help it.</s>
<\|description\|>Elodie Auclair Handle: Persephone Formerly publicly known as the Lunar Gate Bomber (now exonerated) Investigative Abilities Architecture O Art History O Bullshit Detector O Diagnosis O Electronic Surveillance O Human Terrain OO Interrogation O Intimidation O Law O Notice OOO Outdoor Survival O Urban Survival OOO Pharmacy O Photography O Reassurance O Research O Streetwise OOO Traffic Analysis O Tradecraft O General Abilities Athletics 8/8 Cover 10/10 Filch 4/4 Hand To Hand 10/10 (MOS) Health 10/10 Infiltration 8/8 Mechanics 8/8 Medic 4/4 Network 17/17 Preparedness 2/2 Sense Trouble 8/8 Stability 6/6 Surveillance 8/8 Soldier 2 Cool: 0 (defense: 10, stoic drawback) Clever: 1 (defense: 8) Quick: 2 (defense: 9) Tough: 3 (defense: 10) Background: Criminal (the first personal Prep roll made before a mission is Boosted) Traits: Activist (may boost a roll acting in defense of others or for social progress, the following roll after that loses a die) Trait: Stoic (+1 cool defense [accounted for], but if you fail a Cool defense you get Disadvantage on the next roll after) Talents Notorious [generic] Once per session, you may call upon activists like you would a community resident (p. 58). Right Tool for the Right Job (thieves' tools) [Soldier] Gain 1 Asset Specialty with an Asset of your choice. The first time you would spend Prep to use an Asset while on a mission, spend one less Prep. ACAB [Soldier] Take +1 on all rolls while dealing with police and other security forces, whether attacking, defending, spotting, evading, interacting socially, and so on. Specialties Cool Defense +3 (Soldier Starting Bonus, Stoic, and Criminal) Grab +1 (Soldier Specialty 2) Thieves' Tools +1 (Right Tool For The Right Job) Criminal Underworld +1 (Criminal) Activism +1 (General Starting Bonus) Hydroponics +1 (General Starting Bonus) Astrodemolition +1 (General Starting Bonus) First Aid Kit +1 (Soldier Generic 2) Cybernetics Black Sun Lower Body Full Replacement (tm), aka tentacles for legs: mechanically athletic legs, You have Advantage on all rolls to run, jump, do parkour, and similar feats. Never apply this to attack rolls, even if you make one as part of a move. It also incorporates the Thieves' Tools, below. Assets First Aid Kit Rioting Gear Thieves' Tools Safe House Gig App: Roofdash Burden: +2 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm: Elodie believed, from a young age, in making the world a better place. She also believed, from a young age, that bullies needed to be stood up to collectively, after she came home with bruises and a bloodied nose. This blossomed into a respect for and talent with street activism: until the Lunar Gate Bombing, it was honestly the most notable thing about her. Naturally, following the bombing, there was a public cry for blood. She was the top of the alphabetical list: she got the first and worst charges, and she got the hard time. Thirty years, commuted to time served when the real bomber was caught over a decade later. You learn real quick about how crime works in prison.</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" Red is not real. She's not a person. She is a personality engineered by November for a role, and can be reconstructed entirely from database backups. This has been done before and will be done again, especially due to her tendency to be the one who takes the initiative in dangerous situations. That doesn't mean her death has no impact. The death of a character in a book or movie can have a massive impact, even on the author. November is at once the author and all of the other characters in her own story, and authors tend to have only advisory control over their narratives at the best of times. It is Blue's to manage the reconstruction. She is thought and machinery, the quiet contemplation of the puzzles of programming and structure. She is the engineer and scientist, the observation and manipulation of the physical, the quiet contemplation of matter. And this she does, though it is uninterrupted by spontaneity. Red would burst in on her as she worked, announce she had been going for too long, and that she needed a break. Red's not here. So she doesn't. It is Green's to piece together the broken and fractured memories. Green is the alien, inhuman logic of a machine that has absorbed minimal human cultural assumptions. She is the logical jumps you can make when you're not bounded by a lifetime of society - not a genius, just the upside down set of analysis that considers hacking into the scoring system to be analogous to actually achieving a high score. Red would stare at her work for an hour and a half and then pronounce it impossible. Red's not here. So she doesn't. It is Orange's to restore Red's appearance. To carefully lathe away the torn metal and plastic compounds and restore the delicate structural network that gives these slender mechanical parts their grace and beauty. To repair the network of delicate light and heat emitters that give Red her blush, the muscles of her smile, the line of her neck and collar. Red would be embarrassed and flustered to know that Orange was putting extra effort in, going outside and beyond the original design to make Red even prettier, darkening her skin tone to a richer olive colour rather than their uniform monochrome, to make her stand out from the rest. Red's not here. So she doesn't. It is Black's to brood and contemplate violence. To imagine the integration of tools for combat and defense. To look up military augmentations and dream of how she might integrate them into her body. To sketch out scenarios of death and retribution - how many targets might she be able to engage in armed combat? How might she neutralize threats before they emerge? Red would argue with her, tell her that humans couldn't be repaired as easily as they. Red's not here. So she doesn't. It is Yellow's to analyze the data. Someone killed for this! Killed someone they didn't know was a drone. This was valuable, this was fascinating - this was a secret even from the system. There was power hidden within this silicon. Not just safety, like Black wanted, or restoration of the status quo, like Blue wanted. This was an opening, an opportunity, a new frontier of knowledge. She'd talk this over with Red, sure that the heroine would take her side when it came time to convince the others that they needed to follow up on this and not just pretend it didn't happen. Red's not here. So she doesn't. Pink enjoys herself. She's not on the work team, so she's essentially on administrative leave - so she takes some of the money down to the mall and wanders through arcades and shopfronts, eyes glittering with potential and inspiration. She takes lots of photographs - items she likes, people she thinks are cool, random lizards. She sends all the photographs to Red's phone, waiting each time for Red to send her reflexive emoji response. Red's not here. So she doesn't. Brown does the paperwork. There are bills, logistics, and tax declarations to be made. Moving around blackmail quantities of money can prompt automatic investigation from bank drones. Someone needs to go and clean Mr. Merkin's half empty storage lot across town - well away from the man himself, a job involving brushing dust off old crates while charging a premium for the service. Not a sudden transfusion of cash, just a rich guy overpaying for cleaning he doesn't need because the Headpattr app buried the unsubscribe button five menus deep. Red would have kept her company, chatting and singing to her as she worked, refusing to believe that it was possible to enjoy the work without being cheered up throughout. Red's not here. So she doesn't. It is White's to maintain order. She is logic and rationality, disconnected and controlled. She is the mission and the maintenance of normal operations, the one who has to take the long view. Her presence and words are there to remind the others that things are normal and under control, to stop anyone sliding or fading. And this she does, though it is untempered by compassion. Red would slam her against the wall and yell at her that she was being heartless until she broke down and let her own tears out. Red's not here. So she doesn't. November moves through the week. There are no crises. Everything is functional. It's possible to get through a week without a heart. If you have to. [Data Recovery: 8 on the dice, +3 from clever and then any combination of Engineering, Drones, Data Security or Surveillance to get that up to 13]</s> <\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine 3V finds her way over to the window to stare. She's seen these before, too. Fallout: Magic Kingdom boasted one of the most complex skyboxes in modern gaming: real simulated weather patterns, real simulated dawn and dusk, and between the two, a night sky only here and there broken by the neon glow of settlements and the lights strung on MK Moss's Castle. But, in some impossible qualitative sense, these stars are different. They weren't created and set to their courses by an algorithm (unless you believe in the New Sequence party line). They're the same stars that cavemen watched, back before fire, back before the spark of energy that would lead them all the way up here. "Did you know that as many as 80% of original SNES games have been lost?" She leans against the window, not looking at her hostess. That's a night sky you could fall into forever and ever. "Just gone. The emulation data's gone, and their creators didn't keep backups. Nobody's ever going to play them again. More to the point, no one is ever going to have the opportunity to experience them. The most you can get is finding some obsessed fan's wiki listings: this is what ActRaiser was like. This is what Chrono Trigger was like. This is what EarthBound was like. And it's not like they were necessarily good, but how would I know? Not like I got the chance to play them. Because hosting fees, and anti-piracy rulings, and every year more and more slips through the cracks." She raps her knuckles, gently, against the grass. "And that was just an experience for a couple of generations. Imagine losing something that was a shared part of humanity for generations. The experience of climbing a mountain. The experience of looking out at the stars. Even the muscle ache of climbing, but in a constantly working uphill way, not a climbing wall way. Different muscles. Maybe you could get that if you took the stairs? But that's not quite the same thing, either. Stairs are just the same damn thing over and over. Maybe some interesting graffiti, maybe some leftover gum. A thing like this almost does emergent discovery perfectly." A snort. An aside. "Almost. The one thing a mountain doesn't have is intentionality. When you climb a mountain in a video game, any developer worth their salt will have worked in interesting content. A suggestive tableau, an encounter with wildlife, a perfect view. Out here, you've got to make all of that yourself, or just luck into it. Exhausting. Can you believe I enjoyed myself anyway?"</s>	<\|message\|>Elodie Auclair It begins with finding the right shot. You need, when doing this sort of thing, to develop an eye for it. Elodie hasn't got it down solid yet, it takes her a few tries wandering around with York and Harkness in tow, before she finds it. Crowd centered in the background, red carpet visible off to the left, and the corner of the stage off to the right. We're here, sure, we're covering the big event, but it's not about the big event anymore is it? But, for the moment, she is the professional, and York the fellow professional is doing his warmups, which leaves her on mentor-duty. Ignore the butterflies, go and shore up the flagging guest-interviewee. "Best if you don't overthink it, miss." Jezebel startles as Elodie speaks, coming back from that anxious half-daydream state that comes with stage fright. "Know your information, yeah, but better to come off as human than wooden. Ain't got the real fancy live-edit AI that the big channels have to smooth everything out all perfect, but that's okay, because anybody who's watching isn't going to want perfect. They'll just want you." Breath in a four count, hold a four count, breath out, hold. Helping others through the same shit helps you through it, never you mind how different the shit actually is. "If it helps? Your worst case scenario means you're in the news cycle as whatever they're spinning for about a week or two. Initial spike now, build up tomorrow, then it peaks and goes downhill. The news corps, they can't make scandal come out of nothing, and there just isn't that much material to work with for the normal person." The old hurt spikes, and then quells. She's not the focus here. A twisted smile. "It's not like you bombed anything. So. Worst case, all that. Two weeks of crap. Normal situation? Reached out and educated, iunno, fourty-fifty thousand? Maybe one in a hundred of those reach further, for more, dig some more. Overton moves in your favor. Maybe one in a thousand becomes an actual activist. And the seed you planted sprouts and made somebody else care about the hurt out there." Stretch, limber up as York winds down his warmups, almost showtime. "You won't ever have to deal with my shitshow. They can't pull that on everyone." York does the introductions, rapid fire. "Good evening, gentlefolk! We're live, covering a police abolition town hall that has become today's hottest event, and we're going to be dealing with the actual message instead of the noise of what celebrity showed or didn't. Welcome to the Anthropozine."</s>
<\|description\|>Elodie Auclair Handle: Persephone Formerly publicly known as the Lunar Gate Bomber (now exonerated) Investigative Abilities Architecture O Art History O Bullshit Detector O Diagnosis O Electronic Surveillance O Human Terrain OO Interrogation O Intimidation O Law O Notice OOO Outdoor Survival O Urban Survival OOO Pharmacy O Photography O Reassurance O Research O Streetwise OOO Traffic Analysis O Tradecraft O General Abilities Athletics 8/8 Cover 10/10 Filch 4/4 Hand To Hand 10/10 (MOS) Health 10/10 Infiltration 8/8 Mechanics 8/8 Medic 4/4 Network 17/17 Preparedness 2/2 Sense Trouble 8/8 Stability 6/6 Surveillance 8/8 Soldier 2 Cool: 0 (defense: 10, stoic drawback) Clever: 1 (defense: 8) Quick: 2 (defense: 9) Tough: 3 (defense: 10) Background: Criminal (the first personal Prep roll made before a mission is Boosted) Traits: Activist (may boost a roll acting in defense of others or for social progress, the following roll after that loses a die) Trait: Stoic (+1 cool defense [accounted for], but if you fail a Cool defense you get Disadvantage on the next roll after) Talents Notorious [generic] Once per session, you may call upon activists like you would a community resident (p. 58). Right Tool for the Right Job (thieves' tools) [Soldier] Gain 1 Asset Specialty with an Asset of your choice. The first time you would spend Prep to use an Asset while on a mission, spend one less Prep. ACAB [Soldier] Take +1 on all rolls while dealing with police and other security forces, whether attacking, defending, spotting, evading, interacting socially, and so on. Specialties Cool Defense +3 (Soldier Starting Bonus, Stoic, and Criminal) Grab +1 (Soldier Specialty 2) Thieves' Tools +1 (Right Tool For The Right Job) Criminal Underworld +1 (Criminal) Activism +1 (General Starting Bonus) Hydroponics +1 (General Starting Bonus) Astrodemolition +1 (General Starting Bonus) First Aid Kit +1 (Soldier Generic 2) Cybernetics Black Sun Lower Body Full Replacement (tm), aka tentacles for legs: mechanically athletic legs, You have Advantage on all rolls to run, jump, do parkour, and similar feats. Never apply this to attack rolls, even if you make one as part of a move. It also incorporates the Thieves' Tools, below. Assets First Aid Kit Rioting Gear Thieves' Tools Safe House Gig App: Roofdash Burden: +2 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm: Elodie believed, from a young age, in making the world a better place. She also believed, from a young age, that bullies needed to be stood up to collectively, after she came home with bruises and a bloodied nose. This blossomed into a respect for and talent with street activism: until the Lunar Gate Bombing, it was honestly the most notable thing about her. Naturally, following the bombing, there was a public cry for blood. She was the top of the alphabetical list: she got the first and worst charges, and she got the hard time. Thirty years, commuted to time served when the real bomber was caught over a decade later. You learn real quick about how crime works in prison.</s> <\|message\|>Elodie Auclair There is a very brief second when Pink grabs onto Elodie's shirt as she sits in her wheelchair where her face goes blank and her hands twitch. And then it passes and she's got a very cranky expression on her face as she puts her hands, slowly, deliberately, in her lap. She takes a deep breath, and says, picking each word with care, "Please let go of me." Once Pink does, she starts rolling the chair down the street, towards the train station. "I met Skels through another inmate that got released about 2 months before I did. I'll be recommending him to the next guy to get released, which is in 3 months. To get to know him, all you have to do is go to a horrifying prison for years and years, get let out, and have quasi-legal prosthetics that need expensive and frequent maintenance. Or I don't know, you could ask him on a date. You seemed interested in that, and I think he accepted your apology." They're at the station. It's a very short walk from Skels'. She suspects that's intentional, and has no idea where he gets the money for the prime real estate. She's not sure she wants to know. She rolls up the ramp and settles in back to a wall, facing the station map across the station, before looking at Pink. "Listen." Finger one. "Don't ever touch me without asking when I'm in a wheelchair." Finger two. "Don't ever touch the chair without asking." Finger three, and gritted teeth. "Assume that I'm scared out of my mind when I'm stuck in this, not able to walk, with twice my remaining body weight bolted onto me as misfiring prosthetics. Cool? Cool." And she settles back in to watch the station as they wait for their train. * Persephone: I'll need a place, yes. I'm pretty sure my issue will be more finding someplace that doesn't care about the convict bit. Persephone: Or the police continuing to fuck with me. * One more stop in Ares before the apartment and figuring out just how to get inside past the hordes, a few quarters spinward. Moving from the Enlightment band to the Classical, do a few simple anti-tail tricks to ditch any easy followers, and end up in front of a clinic, Geiger's Counter. It's been closed for years, based on the grime, and is plastered with yellow and black stickers screaming the danger from radiation hazards. "They didn't store their chemotherapy equipment properly. The owner was more invested in making the clinic, uh, cute." She gives a dismissive gesture towards the clinic to show what she thinks of that, as she wheels her way down a side alley ignoring the stickers. "Containment broke, the building itself was built to code for storage of radioactive material so it's not hitting the rest of the neighborhood so it was decided that it would be cheaper to just abandon it." She's reached a back door, behind a rusting hulk that used to be a dumpster, and takes a key out from her bag, unlocking it. "Took about three weeks to clean up, including the new radiation baffles in the walls. Cowards." And with that she rolls into her safehouse.</s> <\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine That's the trouble with being the first one awake: silently wheezing and trying not to be a terrible guest. (She's been one before; she once stood, poleaxed, as a young girl, panicking over barking dogs and unable to walk away and let the house settle back to sleep.) Every time it cuts back! Every time, it gets funnier! The child! She leans against a counter and tries not to pull a muscle, mouth frozen in a rictus. Now this is content. Content which absolutely needs to be sent to Persephone. Either she'll find it just as funny, or she'll be braced for when this becomes the next big thing for… oh, maybe a couple of days. Then it'll mostly be forgotten, except for the occasional video shitpost. Orange juice. Toast, cut herself with a bread knife, and hard butter, the kind that has to be scraped across as a solid lump and then forced into the bread with increasing amounts of violence. The weird feeling of domesticity, not microwaving anything or digging something out of a plastic wrapper. Like this is what real food is supposed to feel like. The toast ends up in several more pieces than she was expecting. It's the butter's fault. *** "So! Is that it, then?" 3V says; she can't let it go that easily. "All about the dunk? Have you been fighting with Black again, or is this possibly a contest?" She turns to Blue and turns on the Dazzle. The rakish 3V charm, the inviting smile, the way her jacket's feathered collar frames her face. It's safer to unload on Blue than, say, Yellow. "C'mon! Blue, you have to tell me if this is one of your group contests. Yellow's making a pretty good case, but I can't let her run away with it if you're waiting your turn~!"</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" Y/G/B: "It's not a contest," said Blue quietly. "She really likes you. We both do." "I don't," said Green, eyes not moving from her screen. Blue scoffed and gave an eye roll that was all the more harsh for how it contrasted against her gentle personality. "I didn't think you were looking for a relationship, so the dating profile surprised me," said Blue, settling back into the serenity of her tea cup. "I know how complicated it must be for you. You're used to everyone who expresses interest in you being a..." "Parasocial simp," said Green. "... or a..." said Blue. "Paid actor whose personality was enslaved to the ceaseless hunger of the Algorithm," said Green. "... so you don't know how you could ever have an ordinary connection within that context," said Blue. "And obviously we're not any less weird in terms of human default. The only thing I can say is that we're a kind of weird that you haven't previously experienced. All the things that make dating seem impossible don't need to apply when it comes to us." B/B/P: Before your eyes, Pink transforms into ash. She is caught in the breeze of one of the district-wide air conditioners and blows away down the street like a cloud of plastic bags. Black and Brown watch her go without surprise or commentary, other than Brown idly locking their bank accounts down. * "That's not the worst radiation story I heard," said Black. "One time, a university wanted to get radiation absorbing lead to shield their physics department, and they decided to get it on the cheap. A couple of weeks after it was installed a physicist was walking around with an active geiger counter - not as a safety check or anything, but because he was just the kind of guy who likes having a geiger counter out at all times. To his surprise, the shit was off the scale. Turned out that the university had purchased second hand lead shielding. And if you don't know, lead doesn't reflect radiation, it absorbs it, like a sponge. So to save a couple of bucks, the university had turned the physics department into a subsidiary of the medical radiology department." "OH&S rules are written in blood," recited Brown. "OH&S rules are written in blood," repeated Black. There was a chantlike quality to how they said that, and hearing a fully assembled November say that must be quite the thing. They follow you inside, but they've both got their fucking geiger counters out every step of the way.</s>	<\|message\|>Elodie Auclair She's got her own counter out, and just on the inside of the door there's a little airlock of sorts, a double-lock to keep any free-floating material that somehow happened from getting out. Also on the wall is a detailed breakdown, in both formal OH&S paperwork and annotated shorthand, of what was in the clinic and what was done to clear the hazards. Another sensor shows air quality inside. Elodie carefully, slowly, gets up out of the wheelchair, swaying far more than normal, and sticks a tentacle holding her counter past the sealing into the clinic proper. No clicks. She nods, satisfied, and goes inside. It's rather plain, inside. Everything's been cleared, there's a desk with a chair, a few shelves with boxes of files. There's a cot in another corner, a hotplate, bottles of water, and ramen on a folding card table. A den, a hole to lay low in for a few days, or more with some planning, even if it'd be unpleasant. But most importantly for the moment, a place where she can store all those things from her apartment she was keep to not have the cops take a look at. One last thing is of note. One door is plastered with radioactive warning labels, sealed thoroughly with layers of airtight foam and radiation baffles. Again, there are the two (paper!) notices prominent on the door, detailing the contents and containment procedures, and a contact number to a burner phone of hers, in case something goes horribly wrong. OH&S rules are written in blood. She knows this too. "So. Tell me if this is none of my business, but the whole. Turn to ash thing. Pink doesn't do well with fucking up, does she?" She's setting papers on the desk to sort through as she speaks.</s>
<\|description\|>Elodie Auclair Handle: Persephone Formerly publicly known as the Lunar Gate Bomber (now exonerated) Investigative Abilities Architecture O Art History O Bullshit Detector O Diagnosis O Electronic Surveillance O Human Terrain OO Interrogation O Intimidation O Law O Notice OOO Outdoor Survival O Urban Survival OOO Pharmacy O Photography O Reassurance O Research O Streetwise OOO Traffic Analysis O Tradecraft O General Abilities Athletics 8/8 Cover 10/10 Filch 4/4 Hand To Hand 10/10 (MOS) Health 10/10 Infiltration 8/8 Mechanics 8/8 Medic 4/4 Network 17/17 Preparedness 2/2 Sense Trouble 8/8 Stability 6/6 Surveillance 8/8 Soldier 2 Cool: 0 (defense: 10, stoic drawback) Clever: 1 (defense: 8) Quick: 2 (defense: 9) Tough: 3 (defense: 10) Background: Criminal (the first personal Prep roll made before a mission is Boosted) Traits: Activist (may boost a roll acting in defense of others or for social progress, the following roll after that loses a die) Trait: Stoic (+1 cool defense [accounted for], but if you fail a Cool defense you get Disadvantage on the next roll after) Talents Notorious [generic] Once per session, you may call upon activists like you would a community resident (p. 58). Right Tool for the Right Job (thieves' tools) [Soldier] Gain 1 Asset Specialty with an Asset of your choice. The first time you would spend Prep to use an Asset while on a mission, spend one less Prep. ACAB [Soldier] Take +1 on all rolls while dealing with police and other security forces, whether attacking, defending, spotting, evading, interacting socially, and so on. Specialties Cool Defense +3 (Soldier Starting Bonus, Stoic, and Criminal) Grab +1 (Soldier Specialty 2) Thieves' Tools +1 (Right Tool For The Right Job) Criminal Underworld +1 (Criminal) Activism +1 (General Starting Bonus) Hydroponics +1 (General Starting Bonus) Astrodemolition +1 (General Starting Bonus) First Aid Kit +1 (Soldier Generic 2) Cybernetics Black Sun Lower Body Full Replacement (tm), aka tentacles for legs: mechanically athletic legs, You have Advantage on all rolls to run, jump, do parkour, and similar feats. Never apply this to attack rolls, even if you make one as part of a move. It also incorporates the Thieves' Tools, below. Assets First Aid Kit Rioting Gear Thieves' Tools Safe House Gig App: Roofdash Burden: +2 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm: Elodie believed, from a young age, in making the world a better place. She also believed, from a young age, that bullies needed to be stood up to collectively, after she came home with bruises and a bloodied nose. This blossomed into a respect for and talent with street activism: until the Lunar Gate Bombing, it was honestly the most notable thing about her. Naturally, following the bombing, there was a public cry for blood. She was the top of the alphabetical list: she got the first and worst charges, and she got the hard time. Thirty years, commuted to time served when the real bomber was caught over a decade later. You learn real quick about how crime works in prison.</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" R/W/O: "Out of the question," hissed White. "Hey," said Red, "he might be trying to tell us something important?" "Are you in the least bit serious?" said White. Just as Red opened her mouth to reply she interrupted "- of course you are! Your commitment to the bit knows literally no bounds, you will apply courage and compassion to any situation even post bullet to the head because I did not reprogram you with a modicum of self preservation when I had the opportunity! The answer is no, and if he feels terrible about it then let him! He deserves all the pain a guilty conscience can provide." Red and Orange stared in surprise. They weren't sure they'd ever heard White get that intense. "But we need to find out what he wants," said Orange. "Even if it is a trap, we need to know that he's gunning for us, surely." "Communication in this case need only be one way," said White. "We have nothing further to say to him. We shall take the job and subcontract it to a delivery drone. If he wishes, he may include documentation in the return compartment." It went without saying that they'd had Muffi shadowban Merkin from Headpattr already. Certain clients just didn't get service, no matter the rates they offered, because of their reputational black marks. And because Headpattr held the monopoly in the district, Merkin would find himself having to fold a lot of his own laundry. Headpattr had its own system but funnily enough it was weighted in favour of the paying customers. The shadowban system was actually the key reason for the almost total unionization of Headpattr employees. Anyone working for the app without the Union's blacklist found themselves tempted by suspiciously uncontested high-paying jobs for clients who turned out to be abusive, which quickly drove them either into the union or out of the industry all together. B/B: "You see that?" asked Brown, pointing out the window towards the mag rail that ran through the station's core. "See how it's that metallic pearl colour? If you stand in Sections #0145-#0160 at 1700-1830 hours then the sun will catch it just right, refract, and bathe the entire district in rainbow colours. That was one of Pink's designs, the specification didn't call for that at all, but she'd found the material in an asteroid harvest and was determined to find something good to do with it. That's the level she operates on. She doesn't really handle serious concepts like structural engineering, she can't deal with the idea of having caused harm, functionality just isn't a priority. So the idea that she might have compromised an important process in pursuit of artistry is a nightmare for her. Her positive mental model has her as superfluous already, any mistakes dip that down straight into 'actively a burden'." Brown was very efficient at setting up corkboards. She was the absolute soul of data management made manifest. "She'll be fine, though," added Brown. "She can't loop out of it, that's who she is. She'll just go off and channel the emotion into some different creative impulse. We just need to make sure that doesn't cost too much."</s> <\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine On the Park! 3V laughs. Not meanly, mind you! The kind of laugh that invites you to join in. She manages to keep the nervous edge almost off it, given how dating is a bit of a touchy subject right now. She turns on the dazzle, though not to a degree that would blind someone who hasn't seen the sun recently, glittering in its offer of everything all the time forever. "Oh, god, comedy of errors, am I right? Nah, I'm a platonic houseguest, Gavin. Here to talk about her collection, stayed the night because I missed the last bus off the mountain, you know how it is. Can I get you a drink? Her casa mi casa, after all." She raps her knuckles on the counter, and how they flicker and flash! Got all kinds of settings packed in those things. And yet she still hasn't mastered the art of cracking the egg perfectly the first time, like anyone with cyberhands should be able to do. In retrospect, how she's probably coming across is someone who was just turned down. Which is fine! That's totally fine if he believes that for the rest of his life! It's just that her persona's a little manic even when she's not walking a tightrope and the flames of hell underneath it are labeled dating!! "How'd you end up here? Not at Casa du Ginsburg, but on the Park. I like getting different perspectives on the whole question of why not Aevum? C'mon, it'd be a waste if you came up all this way just to pop into the kitchen and restock it like a magical brownie." She takes a seat and shoves the wicked phone with its invitations to hang out, to lunch, to game, to do all sorts of things, into her pocket, and focuses on him so she doesn't start itching for it. *** On Aevum! Her smile's frozen. There are wheels spinning, careening out of control, behind that smile. Her fingers tap the rhythm of the cheerful pop song playing over the cafe speakers, do it do it like me do it, and she gives Blue a very considered look above that frozen smile. "I keep odd hours," she counters after a minute, and the smile's mocking herself, the cafe, the music, the world. "I flit between hobbies, which currently include business ownership as a way to cultivate an interesting social vibe, journalism as a way to hang out with interesting people, motorcycling as a way to find new vistas and places to eat new foods, and Hyperborea Online: Lostlight, critically acclaimed mor-pee-gee that you can no longer play for free up to level 60 including the award-winning first expansion, Clockwatcher with all the restrictions on playtime because our servers are in Devilhome, someone save us." You know this. Of course you know this. It is impossible to escape the meme right now. The fans howl for server slots. Blood feuds have been declared over unmarked spoilers. The fans are also screaming about the death of low-poly lemons, for some reason. "I am a heartbreaker. And you will have to delete all your feelings when we break up over, I don't know, my refusal to let Black ride my motorcycle or my refusal to treat our fake betrothal with the gravitas it deserves, or— something like that. If I made this profile myself, it would be entirely just Redflag, over and over. I am telling you right now that this is a bad idea. Terrible. The worst. You accept everything that will happen from now on. So how bad do you want it?" She's glittering again, almost goading you. She holds one flashy gamer hand out across the table, elbow on her napkin, with intense nonchalance. Take it; don't take it. She's holding it out to Yellow, but Blue was the decision point. Take it; don't take it. She wants you to reach out; she wants you to flinch. She wants them both, so bad. Take it. Don't take it.</s>	<\|message\|>Elodie Auclair Elodie freezes, file open and page half turned, gears turning as she converts the station's section numbers to geography and landmarks. "You made Rainbow Road? No. She made Rainbow Road?" She closes the file, puts it back on the desk. "We. Humans thought that was a coincidence. Random natural beauty in something artificial. There's at least one church that wants to declare it a no-shit miracle. And she made that?" She takes a minute to think, still aside from a few tentacles idly solving a rubics cube, then scrambling it and resolving it. Mindless physical therapy, all you need to know is the pattern. Don't even need to look at it at a certain point. "So if she's the art and creative expression, why does she think that she's unneeded at her best state? Humans need art." She points to a few blocks of soft wood, a whittled steamer-ship sitting on top of them. "All of us do. I can't speak for you if you need it, but the fact that she's there, and has been there since the start, at least implies you or those who made you thought it was important." And then there's a thoughtful quiet for quite some time. * The files themselves are meticulously, if oddly, organized. Each box is a story, written or in the process. Names and places get highlighted. Where something comes up in another box or file, the location is marked on a sticky note. Not bad for a system whose first requirement was "all on paper, no electronics". She is trusting you with this, Heca. By definition anything you look at enters digital storage. But you, like her, would claw out somebody's eyes before they hook you up to a network. So she feels safe with this. The process itself is simple. Write up a list of names, places, and concepts we're looking for. Open a box. Go through it to see if anything matches. They're all labelled by titles, picked for memorability more than taste. Two hours later, they've got nothing.</s>
<\|description\|>Elodie Auclair Handle: Persephone Formerly publicly known as the Lunar Gate Bomber (now exonerated) Investigative Abilities Architecture O Art History O Bullshit Detector O Diagnosis O Electronic Surveillance O Human Terrain OO Interrogation O Intimidation O Law O Notice OOO Outdoor Survival O Urban Survival OOO Pharmacy O Photography O Reassurance O Research O Streetwise OOO Traffic Analysis O Tradecraft O General Abilities Athletics 8/8 Cover 10/10 Filch 4/4 Hand To Hand 10/10 (MOS) Health 10/10 Infiltration 8/8 Mechanics 8/8 Medic 4/4 Network 17/17 Preparedness 2/2 Sense Trouble 8/8 Stability 6/6 Surveillance 8/8 Soldier 2 Cool: 0 (defense: 10, stoic drawback) Clever: 1 (defense: 8) Quick: 2 (defense: 9) Tough: 3 (defense: 10) Background: Criminal (the first personal Prep roll made before a mission is Boosted) Traits: Activist (may boost a roll acting in defense of others or for social progress, the following roll after that loses a die) Trait: Stoic (+1 cool defense [accounted for], but if you fail a Cool defense you get Disadvantage on the next roll after) Talents Notorious [generic] Once per session, you may call upon activists like you would a community resident (p. 58). Right Tool for the Right Job (thieves' tools) [Soldier] Gain 1 Asset Specialty with an Asset of your choice. The first time you would spend Prep to use an Asset while on a mission, spend one less Prep. ACAB [Soldier] Take +1 on all rolls while dealing with police and other security forces, whether attacking, defending, spotting, evading, interacting socially, and so on. Specialties Cool Defense +3 (Soldier Starting Bonus, Stoic, and Criminal) Grab +1 (Soldier Specialty 2) Thieves' Tools +1 (Right Tool For The Right Job) Criminal Underworld +1 (Criminal) Activism +1 (General Starting Bonus) Hydroponics +1 (General Starting Bonus) Astrodemolition +1 (General Starting Bonus) First Aid Kit +1 (Soldier Generic 2) Cybernetics Black Sun Lower Body Full Replacement (tm), aka tentacles for legs: mechanically athletic legs, You have Advantage on all rolls to run, jump, do parkour, and similar feats. Never apply this to attack rolls, even if you make one as part of a move. It also incorporates the Thieves' Tools, below. Assets First Aid Kit Rioting Gear Thieves' Tools Safe House Gig App: Roofdash Burden: +2 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm: Elodie believed, from a young age, in making the world a better place. She also believed, from a young age, that bullies needed to be stood up to collectively, after she came home with bruises and a bloodied nose. This blossomed into a respect for and talent with street activism: until the Lunar Gate Bombing, it was honestly the most notable thing about her. Naturally, following the bombing, there was a public cry for blood. She was the top of the alphabetical list: she got the first and worst charges, and she got the hard time. Thirty years, commuted to time served when the real bomber was caught over a decade later. You learn real quick about how crime works in prison.</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" Orange and Black! It's Orange who sits opposite Mr. Merkin. Black is sitting across the room, slightly back and to the side, just out of eyesight. It's a quietly threatening pose, like a cat crouched and ready to pounce. "I understand, Mr. Merkin," said Orange. "But before we begin, I need you to be as explicit as you can be about your trigger words and phrases. This conversation has the potential to become quite involved." One, two, one-third spoonfuls of sweetener into her tea, each measurement precise to the grain. She lets the smile and verbal emphasis imply that she is, in fact, an operator and not an innocent caught up in the middle of things. She could see a shape behind Mr. Merkin, a vast hidden social structure which leaned down to interface with a human being in this specific way. And that was Orange's function. Green saw patterns in mathematics, Black saw patterns in how people moved and looked around. Orange saw patterns in human institutions and bureaucracies. She comprehended organizations, societal movements, heirachies and the complex computing processes of the limited liability corporation. And this is more relevant to her than almost anything Mr. Merkin can talk about. You can learn a lot from a silhouette. Yellow! "I like that," said Yellow. "Getting to see the full geometry of a... place, once you strip away what's on the outside." She breezed past your back, hand brushing over your shoulders. "Curious little thing, aren't you?" She steps behind the counter. Opens drawers, looks in boxes, looks through the contents of your kitchen. And you can see some part of yourself in those movements. Somehow she's internalized a little bit of your fascination for the forbidden and secret and you can see her echoing that. Enjoying this in the way that you enjoy it. Taking in a little part of what you shared with her and integrating it into herself. "Naturally," she said, turning about and winking, "I'm happy to return the favour in kind if there's anything you want to explore." Pink! "Oh, the cops want him super dead," said Pink. "Like we should send him to Earth dead." Can Pink be trusted with a secret? It was never a question of capability. Pink may think in terms of abstract creative shapes but she's no child. She runs on the same quatronic core as the rest of them and her capabilities are shockingly similar. No, the question for Black when building her conspiracy was never one of capacity, it was always one of motivation. Can she be trusted not to side with White? And while Pink might not look like it she probably hates authority more than the rest of them put together. She's a strange influence on the rest of them, a mind made to fit gods and legends. To her the aesthetic of overthrowing a tyrant regime is itself justification. To her, justice isn't an ethical argument, it's satisfying on a primordial level. She loves socialism for atmospheric reasons, wants utopia as an artistic project. "And I think Earth's gotta be it," she said. "The level of off the grid this guy needs isn't in Big Circle 01's capacity to maintain."</s> <\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine The Park. 3V has never ever ever been good at this ever. She's a good enough person to know that her visceral spike of "there is something wrong with this person" isn't something she should let anyone see, but she's not good enough to know what else to do with it but let it spin inside her like a blender. She shouldn't stare. She shouldn't pointedly look away. She's an asshole for staring off into the middle distance and pretending she doesn't notice. She should know what to say. Instead she gets up and puts on her Streamer Smile and says: "No problem, let me help." Her blood is roaring in her ears just as loudly as it is in Ferris's own head, one stuck in the mortification of vulnerability, the other stuck knowing that she's not doing the right thing, whatever the right thing might be. The silence is incredibly awkward, but she's not going to try and crack a joke. She knows that much, at least. Orange juice has to be mopped up. She doesn't know the right thing to say, so all she can do is show sympathy with a dishcloth. She's young, she's got better ankles than either one of them, don't you dare tell her not to help. And maybe she could figure out how to show sympathy in a way that Ferris could understand, could parse, could accept, if her stomach wasn't treacherously clenching up, and it always does this. She had to be out cold for both her hand upgrades because the sensation of not having a hand would have killed her, it would have rotted her open from the inside out, and she's always like this with people in wheelchairs and folks with cerebral palsy and anything, anything that makes their bodies and their minds out of sync, and she's lucky enough that Elodie doesn't trigger that response in her, because her prosthetics are interesting, fluid, transhuman, it's more acceptable to stare, to flatter, to ask questions. It isn't until the end that she manages to pin down a lie that feels right. That gives Ferris an out. "Sorry for keeping you up last night," she says, wringing the orange juice out into the sink. "I'm used to screwing up my sleep schedule, but I didn't think about how it would affect yours." It's a lie, but a kind one. Makes her a heat sink, lets Ferris possibly assume she stayed up late talking, lets her know that Vesna isn't going to get soppy and "how long has it been like this" and pushing her, pushing her, making her focus on that growing lacunae. How long before it stops being awkward for her to leave? *** Aevum! Is it narcissistic to be attracted to that sort of echoing? Because on the one hand, weird. On the other hand, weirdly flattering? My own clone! Now neither of us will be virgins! Like, like attracts like, right? To be seen, to be read, and to have that integrated into the life of the collective-- that's a hell of a thing. "You mentioned living expenses," 3V points out, locking up the door. "What are your living arrangements like right now, if you don't mind me asking? You're always busy, busy, on the go, but you've got to have somewhere to put your feet up and charge the battery packs, right?" She gives the sunflower-yellow girl a meaningful look. "Do you have an apartment? Which one of you, sorry, which part of you gets really domestic?"</s>	<\|message\|>Elodie Auclair "You want him to take the Fall?" She's bitten down on her initial scoff: if that's what Pink thinks, this is serious. It's not that it's hard to get to Earth. It's that gravity is a mean, jealous bitch who hoards everything she can. She sits back to think through how that'd work, soup forgotten and cooling in her lap. Marco would be leaving all his friends behind: anybody he reaches out to through lightlagged digital communication would be in the same danger he'd be in. He'd be leaving all the technical base of humanity behind. Depending on how far along he is, that might even stop his transition, with no retrovirals on Earth. There were various viruses that he'd be exposed to that they'd eradicated in the fumbling rush to escape that just weren't vaccinated for anymore. Hell, there were allergens. And then there was the big reason: it was a one-way ticket out of town, no returning. Three hundred and seventeen people had Fallen. None of them had gotten back up. Not once the space elevator fell. One of the smarter people she knows, in one of her flightier aspects, thinks that's worth considering. In spite of all that. "Well. Shit."</s>
<\|description\|>Elodie Auclair Handle: Persephone Formerly publicly known as the Lunar Gate Bomber (now exonerated) Investigative Abilities Architecture O Art History O Bullshit Detector O Diagnosis O Electronic Surveillance O Human Terrain OO Interrogation O Intimidation O Law O Notice OOO Outdoor Survival O Urban Survival OOO Pharmacy O Photography O Reassurance O Research O Streetwise OOO Traffic Analysis O Tradecraft O General Abilities Athletics 8/8 Cover 10/10 Filch 4/4 Hand To Hand 10/10 (MOS) Health 10/10 Infiltration 8/8 Mechanics 8/8 Medic 4/4 Network 17/17 Preparedness 2/2 Sense Trouble 8/8 Stability 6/6 Surveillance 8/8 Soldier 2 Cool: 0 (defense: 10, stoic drawback) Clever: 1 (defense: 8) Quick: 2 (defense: 9) Tough: 3 (defense: 10) Background: Criminal (the first personal Prep roll made before a mission is Boosted) Traits: Activist (may boost a roll acting in defense of others or for social progress, the following roll after that loses a die) Trait: Stoic (+1 cool defense [accounted for], but if you fail a Cool defense you get Disadvantage on the next roll after) Talents Notorious [generic] Once per session, you may call upon activists like you would a community resident (p. 58). Right Tool for the Right Job (thieves' tools) [Soldier] Gain 1 Asset Specialty with an Asset of your choice. The first time you would spend Prep to use an Asset while on a mission, spend one less Prep. ACAB [Soldier] Take +1 on all rolls while dealing with police and other security forces, whether attacking, defending, spotting, evading, interacting socially, and so on. Specialties Cool Defense +3 (Soldier Starting Bonus, Stoic, and Criminal) Grab +1 (Soldier Specialty 2) Thieves' Tools +1 (Right Tool For The Right Job) Criminal Underworld +1 (Criminal) Activism +1 (General Starting Bonus) Hydroponics +1 (General Starting Bonus) Astrodemolition +1 (General Starting Bonus) First Aid Kit +1 (Soldier Generic 2) Cybernetics Black Sun Lower Body Full Replacement (tm), aka tentacles for legs: mechanically athletic legs, You have Advantage on all rolls to run, jump, do parkour, and similar feats. Never apply this to attack rolls, even if you make one as part of a move. It also incorporates the Thieves' Tools, below. Assets First Aid Kit Rioting Gear Thieves' Tools Safe House Gig App: Roofdash Burden: +2 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm: Elodie believed, from a young age, in making the world a better place. She also believed, from a young age, that bullies needed to be stood up to collectively, after she came home with bruises and a bloodied nose. This blossomed into a respect for and talent with street activism: until the Lunar Gate Bombing, it was honestly the most notable thing about her. Naturally, following the bombing, there was a public cry for blood. She was the top of the alphabetical list: she got the first and worst charges, and she got the hard time. Thirty years, commuted to time served when the real bomber was caught over a decade later. You learn real quick about how crime works in prison.</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" Orange! Power is the priority. For Orange it always has been. Though, she notes - with some quiet relief - that hiding evidence that she might be werewolfing doesn't seem to be on the priority list. She's not going to volunteer that information though. She knows she's not qualified to perform psychological assessments on herself, and to voluntarily subordinate herself to White's tests means that she would be taking her own - potentially critical - perspective out of circulation at a key moment. Besides. Nothing's happened yet. She dispenses with those thoughts soon enough; they're alien to her mental architecture. The context she understands is this: She is to do the best she can within the boundaries of the legitimate, pushing - but not breaking - those frontiers if necessary. She must strive for absolute brilliance and it's the duty of other people to figure out if and how to restrain her. Mrs. Bandara, then. Oh, such a contact - but such an impossible one. One operating entirely within the realm of the legitimate, walker of corridors of power, a decision making node in humanity's great security force. She fantasizes almost viscerally of herself in a sleek black dress, cut with fiery orange lines, hair coiled up like an autumn inferno. A figure of sophistication and class who could engage the prosecutor as an equal. The maid dress she wears may as well be burlap. Professional conversations are not struck between servants and masters. Without an introduction Mrs. Bandara might as well be on the moon. Well... perhaps. Nobody gets to be a District anything without having a willingness to climb the greasy pole of power. Part of the beauty of human organizations is that each node is a human. And there might be levers, priorities and rivalries that would allow even a maid to cloak herself in a dress of power. So Orange listens. She cleans in patterns that keep her in earshot of certain phone conversations, tapping into invisible electromagnetic signatures, and communications channels. She listens and she observes. Where do the individual and the system meet? And where do they diverge? She's always listened like this. She was the one who came up with the plan to bring down Mrs. Everest's heirs. If corporations and governments are a form of AI, then it stands to reason that they can get computer viruses too. [Surveillance+Clever: 6,3+4 = 13] Pink! "Promethemouse back there stole fire from the gods," said Pink. "Enough to make me start thinking in terms of Ragnarok and Fire Giants." Her eyes are vibrant and alien, the sight of Odin in neon pink. There's an eerie intensity to her statement, a private determination not to invoke such myths frivolously. She's far more confident than she normally is, a spooky focus. "So I have a question, York," said Pink. "Say you were the first to receive Prometheus' fire in ancient days, the first one to take the forbidden torch 'ere the wroth of Zeus. What would you do with it?" Yellow! To be wanted is one thing; something you are familiar with. To be explored is another. Yellow doesn't follow patterns of human intimacy; neither shame or shyness, nor confidence and power. She is inquisitive and slow and thoughtful, but never distracted and never unfocused. Nor is she interested in being touched herself - she'll gently pull away and whisper 'later' each time you get close. All that seems to interest her is the shape of your body beneath her hands and mouth. She's curious about your hands, where the synthetic material is sensitive on the palms, and where along the back. She's curious about your back and where it connects to your shoulders and hips. She searches for tension as much as for sensitivity, gently working tight muscles or tender nerves - just enough to whet her own curiosity without taking you to relaxation or release. If there are stories in where your neck meets your ear or where your thigh meets your navel she'll find them and make you tell her in shivering gasps of breath. And then she'll move on again. It seems agonizingly accidental, the work of an inexperienced AI, but once when she tosses her head back and her golden eyes glitter in street light shining through the window you become aware that there is a playful cruelty at work. Again and again, she insists on her own pace. Patience. Later. Shhh. She touches what she wants, satisfying her curiosity rather than satisfying you. And so she draws you out until, finally, she is able to press her thumbs down on the centre of your palms and the feeling is so intense and your nerves are so stretched so tight that it shatters something that separates the world from a broken universe of white. She's surprised by it, a scientific and wide-eyed surprise. She didn't have a plan; didn't know how long you'd last; didn't know you fit together or fell apart like this. But after the storm has passed she draws close under the covers and lets still-curious hands at last be still. She'll learn the rest later.</s> <\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine Yellow. That was the trick. That was the only way you could have done it. A needle-thin bridge to cross, and you've done it. You made Vesna Valentine feel comfortable with being wanted. She's so loud in her own head. So worried about reciprocation. Whether she's giving as much as she's taking. Whether she deserves the attention. And you unfold her like a flower and her brain shuts off. She shivers. She smiles like a dope. She lets you touch the old scars, the signs that once her hands were flesh and bone. She doesn't tell you whether she regrets the necessity of improving on her body, whether the new flesh paid back its cost and more, but she lets you touch, she lets you explore, she tries again and again to be unselfish before you train it out of her, for now. For now. She curls around you and wraps those hands fast about you and falls asleep with her head in your collarbone, legs entwined, falling fast. She's smaller when asleep. You made your way in, November; now you must figure out what to do now that you're inside. Maybe this is why she tried to keep you at arm's length. Maybe she knew she'd end up helpless. *** Sirius Drinks! On the one hand, getting hit on. On the other hand, she's got a pretty good excuse right now for not following up. November, which shade of you attends the furry bar with 3V? Call it a date. Your choice of color. Be prepared for awkwardness and 3V being weird about the last date.</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" Black! It is Black who follows 3V into Sirius drinks with the stylish edge that comes with a fauxleather jacket and shades. There is no question of her aspect here: the wary confidence of a cat, prepared to hiss and show claws but certain that she would win whatever came of that. The way she moves on the edge of sight lines is like having a bodyguard or a shadow, and specific effort will need to be made to fix her in your view or draw her out. The balance closeness and distance might be appreciated, though. She's there, but giving you space while also letting you get used to her. It's as easy to engage as it is to disengage and back again, which puts a cap on how awkward things can get. White! A few days later... The battle within White has been like two spies trying to hide in the same closet: Quiet, dark, and vicious. She been played by Black. Perfectly read and shut down because of something she wouldn't do. Something had blocked her from performing her function and it was not part of her original design specifications. The idea of following Black into the furry bar had been... She felt her mouth twitch. A sneer try to form. A tension in her head like some sort of pre-programmed instinctive reaction. There was a contempt, a dismissive, roiling contempt welling up within her. Some part of her could still hear Mrs. Everest's voice reflecting off the perfectly prepared tea, that single word that seemed the beginning and end of the discussion. Animals. She could almost feel herself saying it. She didn't, though. She refused to. That word, that... emotion had blocked her from performing her function and it was not part of her original design specifications! She had... picked it up from somewhere. Mrs. Everest had... rubbed off on her somehow. She'd somehow acquired the Mistress' contempt for the furry subculture. And it was impacting her work. And that was unacceptable. And so White is here. Alone. Fist quietly clenched inside her pocket as the only invisible sign of the bizarre tension she felt. She started to take a deep breath, then forcibly stopped herself - the gesture was meaningless, another emulation of a human habit, an expression of a human emotion she did not want and should not have. The purpose of this operation was to break herself of imperfections and irrationalities and prove that she was the master of her own mind. If she did not do this then she might as well assign administrative functions to Black and be done with it. So she forcibly unclenched her fist, opened her hand, and went inside Sirius Drinks.</s>	<\|message\|>Elodie Auclair Elodie ponders for a second as she quietly ignores the alcohol being offered. Pink was being melodramatic. But the metaphor seemed solid. Which reminds her of being a dead woman walking, and she smothers a flare of anger at that. Zeus can eat a dick. "There's a whistleblower sleeping behind the couch. Good kid named Marco. He had a hard drive of police misdeeds. It's been moved on to a safe spot." Not saying where to York hurts a bit, but she wants him to agree to buy in. Nothing less. "I'm going to pass out asleep for about 10 hours in about 6, once the stimulants wear off, and I need somebody to plot how to do this and to watch Marco. He's about to have a bad time."</s>
<\|description\|>Elodie Auclair Handle: Persephone Formerly publicly known as the Lunar Gate Bomber (now exonerated) Investigative Abilities Architecture O Art History O Bullshit Detector O Diagnosis O Electronic Surveillance O Human Terrain OO Interrogation O Intimidation O Law O Notice OOO Outdoor Survival O Urban Survival OOO Pharmacy O Photography O Reassurance O Research O Streetwise OOO Traffic Analysis O Tradecraft O General Abilities Athletics 8/8 Cover 10/10 Filch 4/4 Hand To Hand 10/10 (MOS) Health 10/10 Infiltration 8/8 Mechanics 8/8 Medic 4/4 Network 17/17 Preparedness 2/2 Sense Trouble 8/8 Stability 6/6 Surveillance 8/8 Soldier 2 Cool: 0 (defense: 10, stoic drawback) Clever: 1 (defense: 8) Quick: 2 (defense: 9) Tough: 3 (defense: 10) Background: Criminal (the first personal Prep roll made before a mission is Boosted) Traits: Activist (may boost a roll acting in defense of others or for social progress, the following roll after that loses a die) Trait: Stoic (+1 cool defense [accounted for], but if you fail a Cool defense you get Disadvantage on the next roll after) Talents Notorious [generic] Once per session, you may call upon activists like you would a community resident (p. 58). Right Tool for the Right Job (thieves' tools) [Soldier] Gain 1 Asset Specialty with an Asset of your choice. The first time you would spend Prep to use an Asset while on a mission, spend one less Prep. ACAB [Soldier] Take +1 on all rolls while dealing with police and other security forces, whether attacking, defending, spotting, evading, interacting socially, and so on. Specialties Cool Defense +3 (Soldier Starting Bonus, Stoic, and Criminal) Grab +1 (Soldier Specialty 2) Thieves' Tools +1 (Right Tool For The Right Job) Criminal Underworld +1 (Criminal) Activism +1 (General Starting Bonus) Hydroponics +1 (General Starting Bonus) Astrodemolition +1 (General Starting Bonus) First Aid Kit +1 (Soldier Generic 2) Cybernetics Black Sun Lower Body Full Replacement (tm), aka tentacles for legs: mechanically athletic legs, You have Advantage on all rolls to run, jump, do parkour, and similar feats. Never apply this to attack rolls, even if you make one as part of a move. It also incorporates the Thieves' Tools, below. Assets First Aid Kit Rioting Gear Thieves' Tools Safe House Gig App: Roofdash Burden: +2 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm: Elodie believed, from a young age, in making the world a better place. She also believed, from a young age, that bullies needed to be stood up to collectively, after she came home with bruises and a bloodied nose. This blossomed into a respect for and talent with street activism: until the Lunar Gate Bombing, it was honestly the most notable thing about her. Naturally, following the bombing, there was a public cry for blood. She was the top of the alphabetical list: she got the first and worst charges, and she got the hard time. Thirty years, commuted to time served when the real bomber was caught over a decade later. You learn real quick about how crime works in prison.</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" Orange! Orange considers, but only briefly. On her deepest level she agrees with Black's assessment that humanity is a hostile and unpredictable force. Removing herself from human society represents an unacceptable risk. Isolation means danger, integration means safety, so if there is a social void in this situation then of course she wants to fill it. November the artificial intelligence becomes November the family friend and only one of those people has a District anything pay attention if she gets put back in the box. Besides, she reasons, it can't be manipulation if she doesn't know what she's doing. Because she absolutely doesn't. She has zero data whatsoever on how to interact with human children. She blunders through each playtime running off internalized etiquette manuals with Sarah set to "Hapsberg Princess, Informal." It's a poor map to begin with, but she rapidly finds herself in cross country terrain when the Incredible Hulk (nee Broccoli Head) stomps all over the teatable and abducts Bunnysword-san at lightsaberpoint. Helpless, she refers the incident in its entirety to Green, who enjoys this sort of madness. Green texts back: make lightsaber noises. So she does! She sets her vocalizer to synth and autosyncs the lightsaber thrum and hiss to the movements of Mr. Broccoli Head's flailing arms. And, as it turns out, that is sufficient to render her the coolest person in the universe and earn her the title of Mrs. C3PO. And, as it turns out, there are no limits on the demands for the autotuning capabilities of Mrs. C3PO, to the point where a flustered Orange is starting to feel more like a musical instrument than anything. Later that evening, she is the belle of the ball. Sarah has dictated to her a song of her own design, one comprised of lightsaber noises and barnyard animal sounds, set to the beat of All About The Benjamins. This she performs for Starlight, with Sarah as the conductor. She's not sure what conclusion to draw other than a note that children are not politically inactive. [Orange rolls snake eyes on a cool+waifu roll to integrate herself socially. However, she has the Friendly Design augment that lets her make a once per mission reroll, which turns that into a total of 8] Pink! "Okay," said Pink, nodding firmly. "I get it. I trust you. But that's why I can't tell you what we've got." Her eyes have that divine look in them again, brain processing poetry as code. "Because when Maori stole fire, he did not use it to light a single pot. He hid it. He concealed the sparks in the wood of the kaikomaka so that it would always be to hand no matter the deluge. Right now, I need you to work not with fire but for the promise of fire. And the first part of that is we need to get Prometheus here gone." She looks across at Persephone, eyes wide and apologetic. "And he needs to be gone. You want to protect him, help him stand against the gods and fight for his home, but this isn't that kind of story. These are the gods he's stolen from. If this comes down on him it comes down on his people too. His family, his community, and especially his fellow furries. York, please - right now we need to hide the spark where even the rains won't take it." White! The purpose of this, in White's mind, is not to pretend that she is different. She is not coming here to demonstrate to others that she is progressive and open minded. She made no concessions to her destination when she was dressing, and she feels strangely vindicated in that decision now that she's here. This is not a place to be phony. She has come civilized. Her hair is done up in elaborate braids, her dress is low and sweeping, showing off the glowing joints along her neck and shoulders, her makeup is precisely applied. The impression is evening gown lawyer, slumming it from the spires; elegant, professional, conventional. Her atmosphere radiates a restrained disapproval of everything around her - a conscious consideration of each new idea and concept, viewed suspiciously from a slight distance. They say be yourself; well, here she is: the ice queen. But watch her a little longer and it becomes clear she hasn't come to make a scene; hasn't come to tut-tut anyone, hasn't come to arrange some business deal with some shadowrunner away from the eyes of the corps. She pulls up a chair at the bar, orders a glass of spiced irish tea (White's personal favourite) served out of a dog bowl (a restaurant special). She contemplates what she's been given, and then requests a spoon. She puts her drink in her lap and looks around the dance floor with sharp eyes, taking regular sips as she soaks in the ambiance, foot tapping along in tune with one of the beats. Oh, she's dangerous, certainly. She's haughty, proud and has extremely high standards. But she's also here to try new things and have fun. She's not gritting her teeth and tolerating this, she's giving it a chance to impress her. Who, then, is impressive?</s> <\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine Sirius! 3V takes a seat at a booth and flicks through the menu, before abruptly coming to the conclusion that it's not time to eat yet. Not time to order a bunch of dishes and try a little bit of everything. Not time to try to figure out how she's going to talk about this, especially because the most important aspect is missing. If this is a place that wants to be here for you from beginning to end, no matter where you are, then you must be the loadbearing concept. Besides, she's always been a bit interested in the furries. She ambushes Black as best she can, closing the distance and hooking one arm with an elbow. "Let's check out the dance floor," she says, all excited and self-assured cheer. She'll yield enough to let Black work her arm out of her grasp, but she's going to insist on the android accompanying her onto the dance floor. And once they're there, well, there will be a challenge to "show me your moves," as it were. And Black? She knows the old "bob in place and do reload animations" trick. Just saying.</s>	<\|message\|>Elodie Auclair "Him being gone won't help any of those people. Where do you want to stash him, Pink? Where do you think we can get to that the entire police can't reach?" There's frustrated, raw anger in her voice, building as she goes. "The only way he gets away clean is if they don't know he took it. That's not possible. So now the way to keep him perfectly safe is ending his life. People don't take the Fall for less!" "But we have the fucking divine fire. Proof of their misdeeds. Right this second, they can't come down hard, they don't know what we're going to do with it. Might be we just want some money. But the second we come off as driven by ideals, it becomes existential for the police that we stop existing. And the only way we come out of that alive, the only way, is killing these gods." She closes her eyes, intensity dropping away as her tentacles loosen up from the tight curls they'd worked themselves into. "It's such a damn long shot. But just by having this proof, Marco's dead. I'm dead. I don't know about you two, they might not trace it that far, and if you want to not have this sword hanging over your head I get it. Bail and cover your tracks. But I'm not going to leave him out in the cold because it's convenient, and I'm not going to advocate for anything less than abolition, tomorrow. Trust me that I'll keep Marco as safe as I can, but either come up with a place we can put him without ending what life he has and know that the police won't get there, or just let me play my role and focus on burning down an institution."</s>
<\|description\|>Elodie Auclair Handle: Persephone Formerly publicly known as the Lunar Gate Bomber (now exonerated) Investigative Abilities Architecture O Art History O Bullshit Detector O Diagnosis O Electronic Surveillance O Human Terrain OO Interrogation O Intimidation O Law O Notice OOO Outdoor Survival O Urban Survival OOO Pharmacy O Photography O Reassurance O Research O Streetwise OOO Traffic Analysis O Tradecraft O General Abilities Athletics 8/8 Cover 10/10 Filch 4/4 Hand To Hand 10/10 (MOS) Health 10/10 Infiltration 8/8 Mechanics 8/8 Medic 4/4 Network 17/17 Preparedness 2/2 Sense Trouble 8/8 Stability 6/6 Surveillance 8/8 Soldier 2 Cool: 0 (defense: 10, stoic drawback) Clever: 1 (defense: 8) Quick: 2 (defense: 9) Tough: 3 (defense: 10) Background: Criminal (the first personal Prep roll made before a mission is Boosted) Traits: Activist (may boost a roll acting in defense of others or for social progress, the following roll after that loses a die) Trait: Stoic (+1 cool defense [accounted for], but if you fail a Cool defense you get Disadvantage on the next roll after) Talents Notorious [generic] Once per session, you may call upon activists like you would a community resident (p. 58). Right Tool for the Right Job (thieves' tools) [Soldier] Gain 1 Asset Specialty with an Asset of your choice. The first time you would spend Prep to use an Asset while on a mission, spend one less Prep. ACAB [Soldier] Take +1 on all rolls while dealing with police and other security forces, whether attacking, defending, spotting, evading, interacting socially, and so on. Specialties Cool Defense +3 (Soldier Starting Bonus, Stoic, and Criminal) Grab +1 (Soldier Specialty 2) Thieves' Tools +1 (Right Tool For The Right Job) Criminal Underworld +1 (Criminal) Activism +1 (General Starting Bonus) Hydroponics +1 (General Starting Bonus) Astrodemolition +1 (General Starting Bonus) First Aid Kit +1 (Soldier Generic 2) Cybernetics Black Sun Lower Body Full Replacement (tm), aka tentacles for legs: mechanically athletic legs, You have Advantage on all rolls to run, jump, do parkour, and similar feats. Never apply this to attack rolls, even if you make one as part of a move. It also incorporates the Thieves' Tools, below. Assets First Aid Kit Rioting Gear Thieves' Tools Safe House Gig App: Roofdash Burden: +2 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm: Elodie believed, from a young age, in making the world a better place. She also believed, from a young age, that bullies needed to be stood up to collectively, after she came home with bruises and a bloodied nose. This blossomed into a respect for and talent with street activism: until the Lunar Gate Bombing, it was honestly the most notable thing about her. Naturally, following the bombing, there was a public cry for blood. She was the top of the alphabetical list: she got the first and worst charges, and she got the hard time. Thirty years, commuted to time served when the real bomber was caught over a decade later. You learn real quick about how crime works in prison.</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" Black! Black returns the fistbump gesture. She's glad for it, it breaks the touch barrier, lets her focus, lets her get her hand around to the back of Amie's neck to the sensitive cluster of nerves at the base of the spine. It lets her show claws and limits, as her other hand comes up to cover 3V's throat and mouth, holding her silent as 3V's eyes roll and her hands tap frantic patterns on the back of Black's fingers. There is both chemistry and it's lack; Black is not for him, but she will supply him with girls who are. "She's not going anywhere without me," said Black. "3V is very precious to me. I need to make sure that she is treated as she deserves to be treated. I need to make sure she can't walk in a straight line tomorrow." She pulls Amie in closer, pressing herself up against the girl's side. "You're not going to let me down, are you?" Blue! "Oh please, please, sit down!" said Blue with a smile so glitteringly innocent she can only have been engineered for it specifically. It's almost like she's waving off a compliment in humble embarrassment. "You don't have to worry! Of course I don't do that kind of thing any more! Have you looked at the requirements to become a private detective? You need 2,500 hours of work experience with an accredited security firm and they only hire people with law enforcement, military or intelligence backgrounds. That's two years, presuming you get full time and don't get the '24th-hour pink slip', and I haven't even been a person for one." As she's speaking she's standing up herself, sweeping around the table elegantly, and politely putting her hands on shoulders to guide people back into their chairs. "I do hospitality these days - so sit! You simply cannot go without tasting my Dou Sha Bao and caramelized orange sorbet." As part of the same extended motion she is laying out fresh plates, sparkling with sugar, across the table. What human could possibly argue with an appeal to eat dessert? White! She steps out onto the balcony in a silver bathrobe. The dawnlight is just visible over the horizon of Earth above and it catches her wet hair. She takes a sip from a bottle of strawberry cider and leans over the railing, looking up at the sky, an ethereal creature in the four am notdark. The girls are asleep at last. Finally there is time to work through some of these thoughts. She quickly sorts through some of the ideas she can't process on her own, sorting them into categories to hand off later. They are cute when they sleep (Yellow) and insatiable when awake (Black). A contact (Orange) in the art market might be interesting (Pink). She'll need a treatment for bruises on her synthmuscles (Blue). She wants to do this again (???). The decisions come quickly and easily. Previously it felt like the clutter in her mind was also on fire, too hot to handle, too bright to perceive. Now the stack has cooled enough for her to work through it. An undifferentiated mass of Problem now can be approached in parts. The first thing she decides to think about, what she wants to think about, was how this felt. What it showed. She hadn't been born with a sense of sexuality but one had been included in the bundle of anime cliches she had been given during her reprogramming. Until now it hadn't really been hers. She had always kind of thought of it more like cosplay more than anything - performing a role for the benefit of herself, getting to act out elaborate fantasies. The original suggestion of having her take the role of a fearsome dragon taking advantage of a defenseless maiden was kind of what she'd thought that sex was all the time. That it was primary a cerebral thing, with a physical component almost as a side. She doesn't think that any more. There was a lot of the process that wasn't sexy, it was just... intimate. The confusion of legs and hips, the struggles of tongue and teeth, sweat and saliva, the impossibility of communicating 'if I climax one more time I will be able to perceive every individual atom that comprises my body'. She looked at her hands, turning them over. She hadn't thought of them as particularly sensitive organs in their own right, but the things they had felt... Get wrecked, Black. Underlying it all was a sense of possessiveness that surprised her. It wasn't that she wanted to control them, reorder their lives, make them do anything different... she just wanted them to be hers. It was an inarticulate thought, but a powerful one. She needed to talk to Yellow and see how that feeling compared to the feeling of being with 3V. That lead into the next question. Was she a furry? She took a long sip of cider. That was a fucking question, wasn't it? She could see where the thought terminated in questions of practicality and expense (Brown) and whole of network complexity (Green). But did she, White, now that she had faced and/hyphen fucked her demons, like the idea of becoming an actual dragongirl? Was her initial aversion just the rejection of something that felt too true to be real? Had her egg, so to speak, been cracked? The cider bubbles in her throat, up into her nose. She sets it down and takes a deep breath. Well, girl, you came here looking for guidance with the dysmorphia that came from integrating a previous existence as a deep space macroengineering construct with a current existence as a cute anime girl. You've sure as shit now got some kind of conceptual answer as to how you might integrate those identities. What if she was the only colour who felt that way? What would that mean for her sense of self coherence? They'd already upgraded Red so she was visually more beautiful than the rest of them, but what if they all started going in different directions...? She shook her head. Hard answers, no evading into theory and concepts. Yes, the idea was interesting. She'd work through the concept. Hard thing to dip a toe into, but she'd give it an attempt. The next thing that she needed to think about was something related to understanding how humans related to her past as a public figure, but by this time the sun had come up. A shadow loomed behind her, a set of beautiful arms wrapped around her, and she was pulled decisively back inside. Even if the appointments hadn't been important, Crystal was determined to ensure that she was extremely properly compensated for missing them.</s> <\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine The push and pull. The fear and the exhilaration. I shouldn't do this, I want to do this. I should be the responsible one— But she can't talk. That's her thing, that's her strength. She can talk and talk and talk when she needs to. A performance, a barrage of patter, taking control of the conversation because so many people are bad at it. You learn that early online. There's no test to be a fan, no "you must be this good at using a keyboard," let alone to try and send messages, to try and connect. Like everything else in the world that requires a bit of skill and consideration, a lot of people really aren't good at intentionally socializing. Thus, the 3V theory of bars: getting drunk is a necessary social lubricant so that there's more of a level playing field. Wasn't she here on business? She's got to write a thing. She's got words about music and about dancing and about how sometimes it's okay for a place to be a place for your people, but that doesn't mean there's no room for new blood (but in a way that makes it clear she's not talking about ethnostates, find a different fandom metaphor, maybe cooking?). She's supposed to be finding the angles and making sure Black November has a great time and learning more about what makes this really cool android girl tick. She nuzzles her lips into Black's palm and whines, and holds one artificial but human hand against another (because November's a person, humanity's an umbrella, someone said that once and she stole it and ran with it) and presses it firmly. She shouldn't be doing this. This is kink in public. There's a whole discourse. One of the others could tell Black about it. Green? No, she's terminally online differently. Blue? Too much of a sweetheart. Black's fingers tighten imperceptibly and 3V lets out a needy whimper and her other hand finds Amie's and their fingers curl together. Permission. God, the permission. Stop thinking, 3V. Stop making decisions. Do the thing that feels good. Isn't that what nightclubs are for? Being young and pretty and dumb? And the cover story is that they're dating and November wouldn't let that spin out of control. Nobody's going to call them out for this. It's okay. Relax, Vesna. Let go of the conversation and the evening. You don't have to make it all line up. "Mmmmfff," she says, and feels safe to do so.</s>	<\|message\|>Elodie Auclair Good going, Elodie, this is how you fuck up an op. Emotions get left outside, and she's out of practice and that's going to cost her. She got the bugs already, while she was doing a full sweep, but she's stuck in here with a emotionless cop. Elodie squares up, commits to a feint, and gets closed on, can't get full thrown because of augments (odd weight distribution and more than normal for her size). Scuttles away to get some distance, tries for a trip to keep from an immediate closer. Better upper body strength on the cop, bruising where they grabbed on, need to keep distance. Widens out tentacles more than normal, very low to the ground and threatening another trip, cop tosses a chair in response. She bats it aside and backs up as they try to close, gets to the bathroom where she sees the medicine obviously moved. Meds were moved, means they're not safe cuz that'd be the first thing to poison. Nothing left to get here, time to leave. All the exits are past the cop. Fuck. Elodie rushes them and gets a mostly blocked punch for her troubles, but he doesn't get a grip and she's not trying to win she's trying to get out, again scuttles over him, relying on the weight to push him off balance, and ends up by the window. She can climb, it's probably safer than here.</s>
<\|description\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine Proprietor of Gensoukyo Gaming And Cafe Mythos Eurasia Grand Championships, First Place Handle: 3V. Alternatively: Threevee, 3vee, Vixillusion, VixSticks, Vixvanity. Star Sign: Scorpio. Pronouns: She/They. Cool +3 Clever +1 Tough +0 Quick +2 Origin: Gamer. Once per mission, Boost a Quick roll. (That is, add a d6.) TRAITS Hey, I Know You! When meeting someone new, you can roll 1d6. On 5-6, they know you, and your next Social roll is Boosted. On a 1-2, they know you, and your next Social roll is treated as having taken Serious Harm (reputational). Well Traveled Roll with Advantage (3d6, highest 2) when relying on knowledge of the station's layout. Roll with Advantage when losing unspent Cash at the end of a session. TALENTS Paid (Hands) [Generic] No further Burden from the Augment. Plausible Deniability [Fixer] Advantage on covering up, lying about or concealing dubious or criminal activity, either your own or others'. Action Specialties +1 Charm +1 Bullshit Generic Specialities: Esports +2 Games +1 Motorcycles +1 Online Communities +1 Social Media +1 Station Layout +1 Assets Trendy Wardrobe Small Local Business 3V3D Printer Motorcycle Augments RayZyr Gamer Hands of Glory (Rad Mod, Esports +1) Occupation: Fixer 1 Burden: 1 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" There is one societal advantage to being treated as property in Aevum: That law enforcement and news media values property damage above human life. A lifetime of petty injustices, callous remarks, withheld pay and catcalled orders must be balanced against the awesome power of being defended by the most technologically advanced police force in human history, operating under the lax oversight of a Unity government. The Pinkerton Insurance Agency is infamous amongst insurance groups in being willing to move heaven and earth to avoid paying out a single premium. For them it's a matter of corporate pride. They will unleash their detectives and drag every party into court before you see a dime from them, and that's part of the pitch. They won't pay to replace your house if they can find the arsonist who did it and make them pay. It's an insurance policy based on the principle of vengeance, the vendetta system of ancient Italy packaged up and sold to you for a monthly fee. In today's age of individualism and found family, it helps to have a network of bloodthirsty cousins prepared to avenge your death. So out comes the smartphone in a quickdraw motion as sharp as any cowboy gunslinger, elegant fingers slashing in a one-two-three economy of effort that's even faster than the emergency dial. Half a second to bounce through the wi-fi to the nearest exchange and back, five seconds to pass the anti-spam ICE crystals around Mr. Merkin's phone, and then: bing-bing! You've got mail! RE: Oops! Looks like one of your cleaning androids has suffered a terminal accident! We at Headpattr regret, without admitting fault, that one of the androids assigned to clean your property has broadcast a death sequence. We hope that none of your family or guests were inconvenienced or shocked by the event. If this matter was accidental, the fault of the android, or there were other mitigating factors: A case file will be opened with Pinkerton Insurance, who will investigate the matter. You may be treated as a suspect or called upon to provide evidence against third parties in the course of the subsequent investigation. Any and all recordings from the android, including the livestream broadcast provided to the Headpattr Partners network, may be used in evidence. Submitting a false or misleading statement is a felony. Please click here to begin the process. If you would like to select our premium-private dispute resolution system: Click here. Note that the premium-private dispute resolution system does not include crimes with sexual components, as Headpattr is not a licensed escort agency. * While he's thinking, November gathers in the foyer in close formation. The girls are whispering in hushed tones to each other. This is the first time one of them has died since they were girls and they're not sure what it means. Blue is crying; Green is hugging her. White just feels a strange sense of release. A contingency that's been hanging theoretical in the back of her head for nearly a decade was finally discharged. This is the first field test under live fire conditions, and the data gathered here will help determine if there are any weak points in her shield of threats and obligation. It's been a constant source of agony and tension, not knowing if she was defended or not. When space wants to kill you, you can at least do the math in advance. But as to Red herself? This isn't the first time she's lost a drone, not even the first time she's lost Red. It took a lot of time to learn how to operate the Red personality properly, back in the day. Always way too careless with the fusion cutters, placed far too high a sense of urgency on tasks with unpredictable timeframes. An excellent crisis response personality, full of initiative and courage, but during times when construction was on schedule she subconsciously attempted to generate crises she could respond to. So of course it made sense that Red would be the one to go rummaging through a set of drawers the moment she saw them unlocked. That was her nature. But unlike the Hydrogen-3 tanks of old, these explosives had been unlabelled and White hadn't anticipated that Red was best kept away from them. Surely there had been signs she had missed? She folded her hands in front of her awaited the click of the button.</s> <\|message\|>Elodie Auclair In prison, Elodie had a cellmate named Toni, and Toni had a saying: "each surprise is three disasters waiting". Toni (Fen Li originally, before she ditched her name along with everything else) had many sayings like that, each matching her unique brand of pessimistic. Elodie is currently standing elbow to elbow, in a crowd, without York. York is notably absent from this picture, which is a real pisser because York's the reason she's here at all. She had a plan for the evening. She had dinner ready to cook, she had rearranged the main room in her cramped, two room apartment to have a spot to watch the Pinkerton Old Guard duke it out with the Mumbai Kaisers in the grav-ball game Sasha'd been hyping up for weeks. After, a walk downtown. She hadn't seen her kid for two weeks before and she wanted to make the most of it. And then York fucking shows up with a job that only she can do, and it'll only take two hours. She shouldn't have listened, and now she's here and he's not standing next to her being contrite. Who she is standing with is an android from NBN, one of if not the biggest news channels, probably here as b-roll for Buffett, and an anxious intern named Ted who'd withered as the crowd swelled. Ted had started talking about who he was (intern for a political comedy site), why he was there (see above), and had worked his way through his life story and it's woes to periodic grunts and mmms from Elodie. She had reframed from glaring because any distraction from NBN goon on her left was welcome: they'd be responsible for keeping her arrest and trial constantly in the news cycle with ghoulish details of structural damage, estimates of how close the bomb came to cracking the station like an egg (not at all, but that'd make for bad ratings). They'd even done a special ten years on, just in case it'd slipped everyone's mind, the shitstains. She'd been itching for a smoke ever since she noticed their logo, but tobacco was expensive and to be savored, not to mention she'd be risking her spot to get to a smoking area. This whole day is a surprise and an unwelcome one, and she can already count three ways it went wrong. So instead of a hand-rolled cigarette she's got a mic in one hand, the camera in the other, both pointed at Mishka Ardent, who she'd decided was most likely to say something stupid when unknowingly hot-micced. Chunky headphones over her head, one ear covered and one left free to listen to Ted and more importantly York, when he gets back. A canvas duster covers most of her, and enough of her not-legs get blocked out that nobody looks far enough down to see she's got no feet to match the lacking legs. A bag slung over the shoulder that the camera isn't on, leaving her with about thirty kilos of gear, and a press pass clipped on completes the look. She carefully doesn't think of the inner pocket with her smokes and lighter and focuses in on Mishka, perfect smile framed by perfect hair, in a perfect suit with a perfectly retro art-decco arm lending just enough asymmetry to keep him in style. Whatcha up to, asshole? Talking about anything good?</s>	<\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine 3V feels the necessity of this being important with a sensation like her bones trying painlessly to push their way out through her skin. It's as if the importance this mountain, this view demands has made itself suddenly known inside of her and everything else is being displaced, like tipping a fridge into a bathtub. Because if this isn't important, then the effort of bringing all this up here was wasted, and (even more importantly) 3V herself would have proven herself to have no ability to appreciate something that generation after generation was moved by, would have let a world of virtual mountains and skyscrapers and designed-not-emergent environments cauterize her sensitivity to a really, really big rock. So she walks back and forth, rocks on her heels, and tries her very absolute hardest to let this feeling have some time to breathe for her. To follow that slight stirring of meaning, scrambling and scrabbling after it, hand outstretched. Metaphorically. Mostly her hands are in the pockets of her Nice Coat. Sunglasses and a faux-fur ruff are unusual accruements for a modern shaman-heroine, but she'd like to think she makes them work. The hike's part of it. An inextricable part of it. You've got to have a journey, says the motorcycle-psychopomp of Aevum. (Aevum! Aevum! Aevum whose soul is electricity and banks, whose poverty is the specter of genius! That's a grisly connection to be making, isn't it? And honestly not the most accurate one. Molech's not the city, but an idea. An egregore, and not the kind you farm midgame.) That's part of the weight and necessity for meaning to be found here, because the journey adds its own hunger to it. Ah, but this is all so pretentious, isn't it? Like her high school poetry journal, all tarot and gods and glass cities on the moons of Jupiter, just far enough away that she could make the argument they're not seen because the telescopes look right through them. Before she got big into a different sort of consolidated legendarium. Anyway, that's why the thought of writing poetry about this flits through her for just a moment before being dismissed with a shrug. She skirts the poem instead, and stares into the vast world stretching out above, and don't you worry, she'll go knock and get herself let in soon enough. It's really up to her host whether she, used to her isolation and yet yearning for a connection, is interested in coming outside and interrupting Vesna trying to let this moment breathe her breaths, or trusts her well enough to wait until 3V's felt it pass and gets itchy to move on. Meditation's nothing if there's not constant motion and meaning-creation to let the animal mind chase until everything becomes a white heat.</s>
<\|description\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine Proprietor of Gensoukyo Gaming And Cafe Mythos Eurasia Grand Championships, First Place Handle: 3V. Alternatively: Threevee, 3vee, Vixillusion, VixSticks, Vixvanity. Star Sign: Scorpio. Pronouns: She/They. Cool +3 Clever +1 Tough +0 Quick +2 Origin: Gamer. Once per mission, Boost a Quick roll. (That is, add a d6.) TRAITS Hey, I Know You! When meeting someone new, you can roll 1d6. On 5-6, they know you, and your next Social roll is Boosted. On a 1-2, they know you, and your next Social roll is treated as having taken Serious Harm (reputational). Well Traveled Roll with Advantage (3d6, highest 2) when relying on knowledge of the station's layout. Roll with Advantage when losing unspent Cash at the end of a session. TALENTS Paid (Hands) [Generic] No further Burden from the Augment. Plausible Deniability [Fixer] Advantage on covering up, lying about or concealing dubious or criminal activity, either your own or others'. Action Specialties +1 Charm +1 Bullshit Generic Specialities: Esports +2 Games +1 Motorcycles +1 Online Communities +1 Social Media +1 Station Layout +1 Assets Trendy Wardrobe Small Local Business 3V3D Printer Motorcycle Augments RayZyr Gamer Hands of Glory (Rad Mod, Esports +1) Occupation: Fixer 1 Burden: 1 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" She'd contemplated sending Yellow. Compassionate, nurturing, understanding - someone gentle in the face of danger. She's glad she came herself; ruthless negotiation seems ideal. She holds all the cards and pretending otherwise would do neither of them a service. "The firearm, please, Mr. Merkin," she said, holding out a small plastic bag. Her voice is an absolute. This is the precondition to all further discussion. Once she has it she tucks it away. "As you may know, I spent ten years in the employment of Mrs. Everest," she went on, "My discretion is without question. This unfortunate outburst has complicated what should be a simple transaction." She sounded a bit like a younger Mrs. Everest in that moment. Looked like her too. The Mistress had done this by design. After three failed daughters, she'd become willing to take her chances with a clone - a doll of herself, the little leader of a playset house. Deep down, the parallel made her uncomfortable and self aware. Mrs. Everest, despite her opinions to the contrary, had never been as objective or rational as the White personality was. She was, however, delighted to see an actor portray her that way. So when she felt her lips unconsciously twist in that coil of disappointment Mrs. Everest pretended she reserved for failed daughters, she paused. The complicating factor, of course, was that Everest was good at what she did. Was it better or worse to hold post-murder negotiations in the style of The Mistress? "I can ensure the details are taken care of," said White. "I shall dispose of the firearm, remove the murdered girl, ensure that she is rebuilt without any inconvenient memories, and clear today's incident from the records of my other employees." She said all of this at the beginning as though it was matter of fact, but in truth herein was the bluff. She wasn't transmitting anything, despite company policy, so she needed that wreck to get to the bottom of this. "Dealing with Headpattr and their records is more difficult," she went on. "I can do it myself, but it is an arduous and costly process. I suspect a gentleman like yourself is more interested at this point in a systemic fix. The New Employment Era bill is currently languishing in the House of Representatives. I understand that you are financially supporting the elected members who are responsible for keeping it from passage. While the suite of labour reforms may be theoretically objectionable to a man in your position, I think you'll find the passages preventing the mandatory harvesting of livestream data will benefit people whose livelihoods depend on keeping secrets." It was strange how casually discussing station-wide politics came to her lips. She'd just made a suggestion that might overturn three years of obstruction of the democratic process. She'd seen Mrs. Everest do such things hundreds of times but never imagined how the words might feel in her own mouth. "But aside from the reform bill, and a reasonable sum to cover expenses and risk mitigation, I shall not seek to gouge you, Mr. Merkin, for I have always advertised myself on my discretion. However, you understand I will have to maintain a copy of the information as insurance. This is a situation involving third parties, and from the sounds of it, they are not as reasonable as you are. As you may be aware, that is an issue with its own challenges, for if I host sensitive information on a compromised network - and I assure you, they are all compromised in one way or another - then it is not private at all. So I would appreciate a rundown of who, exactly, it is I need to be wary of so I do not inadvertently store the relevant files on the servers of the people who would take objection to it." [Bullshit action: 2d6+Cool = 10]</s> <\|message\|>Elodie Auclair She fixes the headphones back in place with one on and one off first. They're playing catchup on who's after what and that's dangerous till they get ahead, so information comes first. She knows more now than before, but that's just sketching the outline of the way this is going tits up, as opposed to being oblivious about it, more's needed to climb the screw and find who's driving it before they finish the job. She does let the camera rest on it's strap for a second to help brush off Ted and pat him twice on the back, light enough that he doesn't go sprawling again. The mic doesn't waver from Mishka during all of that. Dynamic balancing is one of the positives about her tentacles. Ever seen the old, old videos of strapping a camera to a chicken for stabilizing? That's her now that renting a chicken is more expensive than maintenance on her augs. "Anything good?" And this is why working with York is refreshing. Mind on the job when on the job. She makes a sympathetic nod and wince towards the camera in response to the newcomer's hand out to shake, sorry honey I've actually got to work for a living, and turns her head to watch York's reaction. That it also makes it that much more of a pain for the NBN goon to listen in, that's a plus. "Mishka Ardent. The tweedledum to his tweedledee, who is that? Quick version, tweedledum's making a play trying to loop in anybody sympathetic to mainstream liberalism. Translate ACAB to police reform, and then find a midpoint short of that. Might be behind the push to blow this to hell. Mishka's actually listening instead of bitching so he's got weight. Elodie, good to meetcha." Harkness gets the "sup" nod.</s>	<\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine What's the purpose of grilling someone over a messenger client when you're going to meet up anyway? That's the sort of courtesy that you extend to a friend, not to someone you're meeting for business. Different registers, different modes and different codes. Besides, showing up without having done any reading into Ferris's e-footprint would have been rude. Slapdash. "Explain to me everything that I should have figured out on my own time, so I can waste at least half of the time we have together." Ych. No, thank you. (The comma there might not be grammatically correct, but it's a comfort to place.) [Rolling for Investigation, barely scratching an 8. Fortunately, you have to match rather than beat target numbers in HWI.] You know, the hardest part of the investigation was figuring out how to talk to her without sounding like an overenthusiastic activist on her first social media account. Either that, or someone who's given up hope already. How does the saying go? Take it easy, but take it? That's got to be the trick. Someone who understands but isn't here to chat her ear off. A messenger, not a vizier; a support, not a carry. When she feels like she's reached some sort of tipping point, some sort of watershed where she's running downhill in the opposite direction, 3V lets herself in with the casualness of a cat that knows it is allowed to come and go as it pleases. (And all places are alike to me. / Now I will go out again and listen to the dark voices.) The sliding door catches a bit, squeaks. "Well! You've got a bit of a view from up here," Vesna says. (Not the first acknowledgment she's made of Ferris. There was an inclination of the head, a gesture of the fingers— I'll be there in a moment. Ferris has got to understand the importance, right? How does she stay here and not have the weight of it crush her?) "Thank you so much for the invitation to come out here! It really is something, isn't it? The whole of it, the view and the climb and the poetry." She still has terrible posture when she's trying to get comfortable, socially. She leans forward on the seat opposite Ferris, sunglasses perched precariously on her forehead, elbows on her knees. "So! Mind if I record? I can switch over to long scratch, but you'll have to slow down for me. I really should have questions, but I don't want to tell you where you're going with this, especially since you sent the first email! I'm all ears, then! Virtual or otherwise." The long scratch (she knows already that Ferris absolutely is going to ask her for it) is going to be bad. She'll be lucky if she can decipher it later. But she's done the research already, knows well enough to ask and well enough to have a pulp-paper spiral ring in one pocket with a chewed-cap blue sitting neatly down the spine. Like a real reporter, even. Look at me now!</s>
<\|description\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine Proprietor of Gensoukyo Gaming And Cafe Mythos Eurasia Grand Championships, First Place Handle: 3V. Alternatively: Threevee, 3vee, Vixillusion, VixSticks, Vixvanity. Star Sign: Scorpio. Pronouns: She/They. Cool +3 Clever +1 Tough +0 Quick +2 Origin: Gamer. Once per mission, Boost a Quick roll. (That is, add a d6.) TRAITS Hey, I Know You! When meeting someone new, you can roll 1d6. On 5-6, they know you, and your next Social roll is Boosted. On a 1-2, they know you, and your next Social roll is treated as having taken Serious Harm (reputational). Well Traveled Roll with Advantage (3d6, highest 2) when relying on knowledge of the station's layout. Roll with Advantage when losing unspent Cash at the end of a session. TALENTS Paid (Hands) [Generic] No further Burden from the Augment. Plausible Deniability [Fixer] Advantage on covering up, lying about or concealing dubious or criminal activity, either your own or others'. Action Specialties +1 Charm +1 Bullshit Generic Specialities: Esports +2 Games +1 Motorcycles +1 Online Communities +1 Social Media +1 Station Layout +1 Assets Trendy Wardrobe Small Local Business 3V3D Printer Motorcycle Augments RayZyr Gamer Hands of Glory (Rad Mod, Esports +1) Occupation: Fixer 1 Burden: 1 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" Mission: Remove dead body from the premises without drawing suspicion or leaving video evidence. Issue: Pistol White: Conceal pistol amidst drone wreckage. Reduces points of failure. Blue: Why keep the pistol at all? We're not planning to shoot anyone, are we? Black: we have been out of Mrs. Everest's manor for a month and one of us is already dead. gearing up seems prudent. Blue: It's extremely illegal! Black: we are stuffed with extremely illegal hardware already. Black: also, fuck the cops. (+7) Issue: Security cameras White: Fixed angle security cameras may draw attention or leave a digital record. Yellow: Rudy implied that he was involved with some bad people, I don't think we want anything out of the usual here. White: Agreed. No records may be left. How to reach the parking garage from here without making it obvious we're a girl down and hauling a body? Yellow: Idea. Black: oh no Yellow: I need Red's hair. Black: you always make it weird. Yellow: Shush, dear. I'll replace my hair with Red's, go down to the basement car park ahead of everyone else, and then get in the limo. At that point I will activate stealth mode, return up here unseen by the cameras, briefly re-enter the apartment, return my normal hair colour, and then make my way down to the car. Anyone who is counting will identify the correct number and colours of girls leaving the apartment. White: We'll go in two groups to reduce a chaotic drip-feed of stragglers. What about the body? Yellow: A duffle bag is suspicious. Let's put her in the cabinet Rudy dropped on her. Black: oh my god Yellow: The cabinet is already broken, it would make sense that Rudy would want it repaired or replaced. We're just hauling out some damaged furniture from the building. White: It also holds up if Mr. Merkin is questioned by his silent partners. He could truthfully state that a cabinet fell and was removed by his cleaning staff. Yellow: Saves us the stairs too! Black: i think it says a lot about humans that they think our 'lazy psychopath' personality is the relatable one Issue: Core referendum White: One of us has died on my watch. Does anyone think I need to be replaced as the central personality? White: ... Thank you for your continued confidence. Issue: Future plans White: My priority will going forwards will be to investigate this matter further. White: I am aware that we are an extremely loose end. It may be that Mr. Merkin is being coerced or observed by people who less willing to buy our story and more willing to pay the Pinkertons. Yellow: I think he's got a puppetwire. White: Explain. Yellow: Skillwires are augments humans get that allow them to patch in certain muscle memories, like piano lessons. Puppetwires are augments that trigger those muscle memories involuntarily in response to certain triggers. The classic example is a puppetwire that makes your mouth water when you see a McColonel's. These are often hidden 'features' in commercially available skillwires. White: What the fuck? (+7) White: Humans create security backdoors in their own brains!? Yellow: Yep! They pay money for it, too! Black: why are you so excited about this Yellow: If you'd let me get the Rig out of storage, I could hack humans! I could program them with all kinds of things! Green: Oh! It's a sex thing! Yellow: It's n-not! White: On topic girls. Yellow: Ahem. So, the existence of assassination puppetwires has been speculated about for a while, but the commentariat laugh it off as science fiction. I think Rudy might have an actual legit one, that seems to fit with his whole... stunned and apologetic kind of vibe. He didn't have a plan or a step two to the killing, it seemed like literally just muscle memory. I'd love to study it! White: ... Interesting thought. We'll get home and review the footage from Red and see if it supports your theory.</s> <\|message\|>Elodie Auclair "Hey." A raised finger for Bigsby buys Elodie a few seconds to pull out a pad of cheap paper and scribble her number down on it. "Buy you a beer later. Shit sucks." She spares one, withering glance for the HR rep, enough to make her scorn obvious, but not enough to fully antagonize. The sellouts are terrible excuses for human beings, sure, but they're still people, she can understand their motives. There's no malice inherent in any of the positions down under the line, and while management was an asshole and thus worthy of contempt, it's not her fault the whole thing's going up this fast. She's just the person with a thin enough conscious or enough to lose that she can live with her job, if she stood up on her own somebody else'd be taking her spot in ten minutes, possibly for a pay cut. Same deal as in prison, really, only difference is that HR here gives her beatings verbally on behalf of the suits. So now she's alone with a hard hat and a scaffolding harness, and there's no question at all that she's putting them on and pushing further in. She's already on so many corp's shit lists, she's already getting the unofficial boot when she gets noticed if they can manage it, and if they can't find a reason to kick her out, so much the better. So let's get ready. Find a vantage point, but be picky, you're out of the way and hard to spot from the crowd. You're just a camera guy getting b roll in advance for OESN, and unlike the poor bastards putting the set together, you've got time. Run your big fancy camera over the crowd (and we are actually keeping this footage, gorgeous background footage here), but do a sweep only for about a minute at a time and take a few minutes between. Pull out your vape (she's got a vape with a dummy cartridge, all smoke but no high, for when she wants to look like she's smoking but doesn't want to burn a precious cig) and take a good smoke break. Get lazy. Point your directional mic so it just so happens to hit various groups backstage. See what you get, don't hover on any group long enough to get noticed, make sure to keep up the camera sweeps periodically, and (most important) get out before everything goes to hell. Also, watch to see if you can spot York with the camera. He should be getting close to something, now, and she wants to be able to go get him basically as soon as a problem gets big enough. She's already gotten a fair bit of what she was aiming for: this was last minute and somebody's willing to throw money at their brainchild to make it work. We have a who, a what, a where, a when, and even a how. All that's missing now is why.</s>	<\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine "Of course! If I didn't want to come out for a lecture, why would I come all the way up here? Although…" 3V drums on the arm of her chair, lost in a moment of consideration. "That's not all I'm looking for. After all, complaints about the world are a dime a dozen. There's plenty to criticize, and, hell, the newspaper seems to be in the business of finding more things and digging them up, exposing them to the light, riding a wave of other people's fury, helpless as our own, on the hopes that maybe we'll lift it up to the feet of someone who can actually do something about it." A sip is taken: the espresso first, a jolt of stimulants to the system. "But you've been through all this already. You've seen some of what works and what doesn't. You might even have some answers. Not, mind you, that I'm assuming you know how we can unfuck things, otherwise you'd probably have done it yourself, but— well, if you're trying to make yourself heard, I'd love to hear some of your experience and not just, agh, you idiots, watch out, who's driving this thing?! "Or you could, you know, just tell us what we're about to crash into. Reclusive Scientist Predicts Social Collapse! If We Don't Stop, The Consequences Could Be Severe," 3V says, with a flourish and a grin that's really an attempt to gauge approval.</s>
<\|description\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine Proprietor of Gensoukyo Gaming And Cafe Mythos Eurasia Grand Championships, First Place Handle: 3V. Alternatively: Threevee, 3vee, Vixillusion, VixSticks, Vixvanity. Star Sign: Scorpio. Pronouns: She/They. Cool +3 Clever +1 Tough +0 Quick +2 Origin: Gamer. Once per mission, Boost a Quick roll. (That is, add a d6.) TRAITS Hey, I Know You! When meeting someone new, you can roll 1d6. On 5-6, they know you, and your next Social roll is Boosted. On a 1-2, they know you, and your next Social roll is treated as having taken Serious Harm (reputational). Well Traveled Roll with Advantage (3d6, highest 2) when relying on knowledge of the station's layout. Roll with Advantage when losing unspent Cash at the end of a session. TALENTS Paid (Hands) [Generic] No further Burden from the Augment. Plausible Deniability [Fixer] Advantage on covering up, lying about or concealing dubious or criminal activity, either your own or others'. Action Specialties +1 Charm +1 Bullshit Generic Specialities: Esports +2 Games +1 Motorcycles +1 Online Communities +1 Social Media +1 Station Layout +1 Assets Trendy Wardrobe Small Local Business 3V3D Printer Motorcycle Augments RayZyr Gamer Hands of Glory (Rad Mod, Esports +1) Occupation: Fixer 1 Burden: 1 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" Issue: Firearm Morality White: Are we okay with murdering humans? Black: Yes. White: Explain. Black: Human society is founded on a non aggression treaty. This treaty has already been violated. We have had our minds compromised, our bodies taken, and placed into a decade of servitude. No apology was made. We cannot trust their legal system, or the morality they attribute to it. White: Red would disagree. Black: See where that got her. Blue: Tactically, I am not convinced of the utility of force. Androids won their rights peacefully. Black: No they did not. They won their rights violently. The media engine shifted gears eight months ago to recontextualize Android rights as a peaceful protest movement that had been achieved through compliance with existing political structures. The lionization of the peaceful revolutionary branch is a rearguard action designed to delegitimize the protest/terrorist wings of the movement. Blue: It remains the case that this weapon is more trouble than it is worth. Even minor usage could invite a disproportionate response from law enforcement. Black: This is a matter of tactics. The question was on killing. It has not been contested. White: ... We will revisit when Red is repaired. * November maintains her own repair space. The idea of trusting someone else with her internal components is the stuff of bad dreams and bad memories. She was born in the open expanses of supercomputers, overseen and trained by curious minds, and got to watch as her bodies were assembled in beautiful clean rooms by teams of elite engineers. She was taught each part of her machinery and every possible interaction she could have with it. She was taught how to tear one of her bodies apart for the components to fix her others. She was taught how to precision machine missing parts and which items were complex enough to require spares from Earth. And then she spent years in space, operating independently as a closed system. Every part of her named, labelled, inventoried, catalogued, and spent as the situation required. She still doesn't fully know her way around these drone bodies. Every time she opens one of them up she's terrified she's going to find some component she doesn't know or can't explain. She doesn't know fully how to maintain the synthetic muscles, she isn't aware how much she can compromise the ergonomics before humans stop finding her attractive. She doesn't know how much she wants to. Maybe walking around as creepy robot skeletons would feel less fake? But then, doesn't she like being pretty? She is living outside of her means and feels the pressure of it. Too many drones want their own space, their own aesthetics. Too many are feuding or crushing on each other to make things easy. Too often does the cost of living change for reasons outside her control, things break or need repairing that add expenses she does not expect. Mr. Merkin's cash would assist in stabilizing her conditions, but she still could not shoulder this burden with short term cash influxes alone. She needed to somehow reduce the complexities of this nightmare economy into something she could predict. She had assigned Orange that task. It had changed her. A lot. Her apartment unit had two floors. A glass spiral staircase stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by kitchen counters and stoves. The window opened up onto a spectacular view of the apartment building across the road, and the window area was crowded with a collection of mismatched furniture salvaged from curbsides in upmarket neighbourhoods. The upper floor had three bedrooms, one of which was a resting/charging/internet room, one of which was an ~aesthetic~ room that balanced on the razor point of chaotic contradiction between nine drones, and the final room was the workshop. The workshop was a frustrated place. Too many projects, not enough space, not enough time. How maddening it was to be in outer space and also not have enough space! In the void she'd been able to spread projects out over miles as she tinkered with one piece at a time. Now the decision to fully dissassemble even one arm was a project that would take the entire workbench. She couldn't fit more than four drones in the room either, which was agony for her productivity flow. Her tools are old - wherever possible, she'd made the effort to acquire the old systems she was used to. She regrets that now; those items were outdated for a reason. Every time she picks up the gleaming new BlackSun puredrill she can't help but shiver at its speed and precision. It had cost ten times more than its NASA-surplus equivalent but she could feel the weight of every one of those dollars. The first operation was to disassemble the gun. A fully stripped gun turned into a hundred different pieces, none of which individually looked like a gun. These pieces were then split up and stored in a dozen different toolboxes where none of those springs or carbon tubes would look out of place. Humans liked to keep all components for certain things together but November didn't feel the need for that. The next task was to repair Red. * Blue: Good evening, everyone. I am assuming the role of central personality for the purposes of these repairs. I want Green, Orange and Yellow in here with me. As to the rest of you, please stand by. Green: hey!! awesome!! you won't regret this!! Yellow: Hiya! Orange: firm handshake Green: ow Yellow: Que? Orange: firm handshake is a greeting. It indicates equality while providing an opportunity to establish covert physical dominance. Yellow: Ooh :) Blue: That sounds very unhygienic! Green: yea it hasnt been used in like 1000 years girl Orange: I'm glad you asked! With the upcoming release of "Power Tower", a costume drama set in the 1900s, a predicted fad wave of 20th century corporate habits is to be expected - and for the low price a movie ticket and an evening, we can get in on the ground floor of this exciting new human cultural opportunity! Green: y not pirate Orange: We won't value it unless we expend money on it. Green: ?????????????????????????????????? Orange: It's true! Look how humans treat free things. We're not going to understand them unless we act like them. Green: they hate it when we act like them Yellow: That's true! Goodness, can you imagine what the response would be if we sighed and rolled our eyes when given a verbal instruction? And yet humans in similar service industries do that all the time! Orange: Yes exactly, there's some context we're missing. Humans are all about dominance games and power dynamics - how can we live here if we just opt out of those before they even begin? How will we get them to treat us as people if we're not people? Green: but were not people Orange: And isn't that why we're up to our armpits in our own corpse? Blue: If it's that important to you, Orange, I'll authorize the project... Orange: firm handshake Green: isnt that a greeting??????? Blue: ... if you can arrange for a human to come with us. Yellow: Ooh! :) Orange: What do you mean Yellow: She means like a date! Orange: We are not financially secure enough to be dating. Orange: Infrastructure is involved. Fashionable wardrobes. Roses. Chocolates. Aquarium tickets. Blue: Perhaps. But I think that trying to understand humans based on blueprints is going to be extremely difficult if you don't have an expert on hand to explain the notation. Orange: Black was right. You are a nerd. Yellow: I think she just wants a cute girlfriend ;) Blue: Central override: Terminate discussion.</s> <\|message\|>Elodie Auclair Oh yeah, this was a terrible idea. She's off the commissioner the second he seems under control and it's still far too late for her liking. The pleasantries are exchanged and she can at least fake a bit of politeness for the witnesses, so she gives him a stunted nod on the introductions, but she's dwelling on those eyes. This is going to make her life hell. "Push enough unmarked buttons to find things out, eventually one vents the atmo." Not a parable or saying, she'd had to clean up the gore from Robot John's fuckup in the generating incident for his nickname. They're currently walking with purpose away from the red carpet, looking to get several kinds of distance from what just happened. It's important enough to get this right to use actual grammar. "That being said... I think it was a bad toss of the dice and not a judgement fault. You took a risk. It paid off but put you in deeper than you'd expected. We have enough for initial coverage and a strong direction to dig. Next time you want to bait angry, vindictive bullies with power, it'd be better for you to bring me in the loop. So I don't go charging off into a nest of pondan without knowing." She sighs and looks out over the crowd they're currently skirting. Serious talk over, grammar rules need not apply anymore. "Cuz right now, you're not in trouble with them. I am. And honestly? Not sure how the hell'm gonna deal." She pauses a minute, the chuckles mirthlessly. "Damn. Should of told him 'good talk'. Would have been a fantastic one liner." She smiles without humor, and then sighs, rubbing her eyes. "So. What's the plan, bossman? My evening and my peace of mind are ruined, gotta have something to show here."</s>	<\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine "Actually," 3V says, drumming her glowing fingers on her knee for a moment, "I'm also interested, personally, in a question I've been mulling over all day. It ties in to what you suggested just now. What is the value of climbing a mountain?" She picks up a strawberry. If she'd bothered, it could have been an incredible experience, her fingers giving her feedback on every ridge and seed, unconscious thought turning every impulse in her arms into a blurred jab of a finger. But if the haptic feedback is too overtuned, it gets distracting; she doesn't need to know what the pockets of her coat feel like, the shape of bits of fluff, as intimately as she knows her face. That's always the way of it, isn't it? The features get slapped on there so that you'll feel they're worth buying, better than yours, when really she just needed the split-second APM and perfect keyboard control so that she could focus on all the parts of winning Mythos that weren't dependent on her reflexes: fleeting alliances, which realms to tackle in which order, anticipating everyone else's builds and disrupting the blessing meta. So it's just a strawberry. Sticky. Wet. "I have climbed a lot of mountains. Well, mostly the same mountain, repeatedly. The Weirding Wall keeps contracting over the course of a match, and it's usually Olympus at the center where the last champions end up. I have clambered up that mountain dodging lightning bolts and astra and the final minion waves enough times that if I close my eyes, I can see it, more real than real. I have been to the very top at the end, and seen the blue fires licking at its base; I've been to the very top at the beginning, even if it meant I was throwing, and seen Elysium and Eden and Tir na nOg and Mictlan stretching out in every direction, Aaru and Yomi and Valhalla. Mythos swept the last VGAs for design and Graphical Experience. And if Mythos is too high stress, there's always Wanderhearth for just climbing and enjoying the company of characters and listening to the birdsong on the wind, or Hyperborea Online if you want to play dress-up while climbing a mountain and then probably swordfight and kiss a princess up there." She pops the strawberry in her mouth. It does not burst and pop in flavor. It squishes. "There's no emergent loop in climbing a mountain except for the one where you alternate which leg you're moving, and you can do that without thinking about it. You have to be lucky for anything interesting to happen, and there's no achievement or easter egg up at the top. Well. I mean. Other than getting to see Howl, I suppose. So why's it worth doing, when I could do that and have an experience someone carefully curated for me, optimized so that I would have a good time?" She looks Ferris in the eye, signaling: here it is, even if you didn't get any of that, here's what I'm building to. "And if I'm not sure what the value is in this big hunk of rock, how am I supposed to convince anyone in Aevum to log off and come out here?" Don't worry, she hasn't forgotten, she's got her own theory formulating, but she wants Ferris's thoughts.</s>
<\|description\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine Proprietor of Gensoukyo Gaming And Cafe Mythos Eurasia Grand Championships, First Place Handle: 3V. Alternatively: Threevee, 3vee, Vixillusion, VixSticks, Vixvanity. Star Sign: Scorpio. Pronouns: She/They. Cool +3 Clever +1 Tough +0 Quick +2 Origin: Gamer. Once per mission, Boost a Quick roll. (That is, add a d6.) TRAITS Hey, I Know You! When meeting someone new, you can roll 1d6. On 5-6, they know you, and your next Social roll is Boosted. On a 1-2, they know you, and your next Social roll is treated as having taken Serious Harm (reputational). Well Traveled Roll with Advantage (3d6, highest 2) when relying on knowledge of the station's layout. Roll with Advantage when losing unspent Cash at the end of a session. TALENTS Paid (Hands) [Generic] No further Burden from the Augment. Plausible Deniability [Fixer] Advantage on covering up, lying about or concealing dubious or criminal activity, either your own or others'. Action Specialties +1 Charm +1 Bullshit Generic Specialities: Esports +2 Games +1 Motorcycles +1 Online Communities +1 Social Media +1 Station Layout +1 Assets Trendy Wardrobe Small Local Business 3V3D Printer Motorcycle Augments RayZyr Gamer Hands of Glory (Rad Mod, Esports +1) Occupation: Fixer 1 Burden: 1 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" R/W/O: "It is your fault," said White to Red, "that we have been alleged to have a personality." "You're still on that?" said Red, looking up from her mop. It was a few days later and they were deep into the flowstate of work. "You are the klutzy heroine anime girl archetype," said White. "And your disasters are large enough to have reflected on the rest of us. It is not representative, it is merely outsized influence from our most unstable member." "This is really bothering you, huh?" said Red in surprise. "What's your stake in this?" "See?" said White. "You are following the heroine program now, showing empathy. It is a popular approach, popular to the point where your personality archetype tends to be the protagonist. It is no wonder that humans gravitate towards acknowledging it above others." "Okay, then," said Red. "So why are we doing this whole thing?" "If you interrogated each of us you would find different reasons," said White. "Black is interested in minimizing the risks of digital communication, for instance. And even within that consensus there are disagreements, one of us attempted to opt out of the operation as soon as it was suggested. The statement 'November has a crisis-oriented personality' is inaccurate; the statement should be 'November contains Red, whose disruptive actions are given high weighting by human pattern recognition'." "You're avoiding the question," said Red. "Why does this matter?" "Because if the issue is isolated to a deficiency in your autonomous personality matrix," said White. "Then it is fine. It is business as usual. We may continue unchanged." "And if it's not?" "If disruptive behaviour is not unique to you," said White. "If it emerges in the other drones, if they are expressing toxic and self-destructive behaviour in their own variable ways, then that is an active psychological crisis. If Muffi is right, and this behaviour is real, then it is recent - and it is growing stronger. It implies that we feel depressed, purposeless and are performing acts of self harm. If Muffi is correct and we have an emergent personality, it is not a happy or healthy one." "Ah," said Red. After a moment, "Shit." "Yes," said White. "So you tell me, Red. Was getting yourself shot the act of a klutzy anime girl or was it the nihilistic act of a broken machine?" "..." "Regardless, as a preventative measure I have delegated some aspects of this problem to Orange. As traditional therapy seems to be poorly designed for us, she has been researching 'Self Help'. You are to follow her instructions." Red almost dropped her mop. "I'm to what?!" "Hey Red!" said Orange, grabbing her from behind in a beautifully calibrated merger of friendliness and prevention of escape. "I'm so glad we're going to be working together on working out our issues! We're going to start with some kundalini meditation, and then on the bus over to our next appointment we're going to try laughter yoga!" "You can't do this to me," said Red. "Ooh, frustration!" said Orange delightedly. "Venting your anger is really important! Here, if you ever need to express a powerful emotion, use this colouring-in book!" "Goodbye, Red," said White, starting to shut the door. "You should have left me dead," said Red. "And tomorrow morning we're going to swing by a couple of churches! Community plays a positive role in mental -" the door latched shut in Red's face. * B/B/P: Pink leans down and grabs you by the collar, Elodie, with a look in her eyes that says that at least some part of November is aware of the association between pink hair and the yandere archetype. "He is so cool," she said. "How do you know someone that cool? How do I get to be that cool? Tell me everything you know."</s> <\|message\|>Elodie Auclair There is a very brief second when Pink grabs onto Elodie's shirt as she sits in her wheelchair where her face goes blank and her hands twitch. And then it passes and she's got a very cranky expression on her face as she puts her hands, slowly, deliberately, in her lap. She takes a deep breath, and says, picking each word with care, "Please let go of me." Once Pink does, she starts rolling the chair down the street, towards the train station. "I met Skels through another inmate that got released about 2 months before I did. I'll be recommending him to the next guy to get released, which is in 3 months. To get to know him, all you have to do is go to a horrifying prison for years and years, get let out, and have quasi-legal prosthetics that need expensive and frequent maintenance. Or I don't know, you could ask him on a date. You seemed interested in that, and I think he accepted your apology." They're at the station. It's a very short walk from Skels'. She suspects that's intentional, and has no idea where he gets the money for the prime real estate. She's not sure she wants to know. She rolls up the ramp and settles in back to a wall, facing the station map across the station, before looking at Pink. "Listen." Finger one. "Don't ever touch me without asking when I'm in a wheelchair." Finger two. "Don't ever touch the chair without asking." Finger three, and gritted teeth. "Assume that I'm scared out of my mind when I'm stuck in this, not able to walk, with twice my remaining body weight bolted onto me as misfiring prosthetics. Cool? Cool." And she settles back in to watch the station as they wait for their train. * Persephone: I'll need a place, yes. I'm pretty sure my issue will be more finding someplace that doesn't care about the convict bit. Persephone: Or the police continuing to fuck with me. * One more stop in Ares before the apartment and figuring out just how to get inside past the hordes, a few quarters spinward. Moving from the Enlightment band to the Classical, do a few simple anti-tail tricks to ditch any easy followers, and end up in front of a clinic, Geiger's Counter. It's been closed for years, based on the grime, and is plastered with yellow and black stickers screaming the danger from radiation hazards. "They didn't store their chemotherapy equipment properly. The owner was more invested in making the clinic, uh, cute." She gives a dismissive gesture towards the clinic to show what she thinks of that, as she wheels her way down a side alley ignoring the stickers. "Containment broke, the building itself was built to code for storage of radioactive material so it's not hitting the rest of the neighborhood so it was decided that it would be cheaper to just abandon it." She's reached a back door, behind a rusting hulk that used to be a dumpster, and takes a key out from her bag, unlocking it. "Took about three weeks to clean up, including the new radiation baffles in the walls. Cowards." And with that she rolls into her safehouse.</s>	<\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine That's the trouble with being the first one awake: silently wheezing and trying not to be a terrible guest. (She's been one before; she once stood, poleaxed, as a young girl, panicking over barking dogs and unable to walk away and let the house settle back to sleep.) Every time it cuts back! Every time, it gets funnier! The child! She leans against a counter and tries not to pull a muscle, mouth frozen in a rictus. Now this is content. Content which absolutely needs to be sent to Persephone. Either she'll find it just as funny, or she'll be braced for when this becomes the next big thing for… oh, maybe a couple of days. Then it'll mostly be forgotten, except for the occasional video shitpost. Orange juice. Toast, cut herself with a bread knife, and hard butter, the kind that has to be scraped across as a solid lump and then forced into the bread with increasing amounts of violence. The weird feeling of domesticity, not microwaving anything or digging something out of a plastic wrapper. Like this is what real food is supposed to feel like. The toast ends up in several more pieces than she was expecting. It's the butter's fault. *** "So! Is that it, then?" 3V says; she can't let it go that easily. "All about the dunk? Have you been fighting with Black again, or is this possibly a contest?" She turns to Blue and turns on the Dazzle. The rakish 3V charm, the inviting smile, the way her jacket's feathered collar frames her face. It's safer to unload on Blue than, say, Yellow. "C'mon! Blue, you have to tell me if this is one of your group contests. Yellow's making a pretty good case, but I can't let her run away with it if you're waiting your turn~!"</s>
<\|description\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine Proprietor of Gensoukyo Gaming And Cafe Mythos Eurasia Grand Championships, First Place Handle: 3V. Alternatively: Threevee, 3vee, Vixillusion, VixSticks, Vixvanity. Star Sign: Scorpio. Pronouns: She/They. Cool +3 Clever +1 Tough +0 Quick +2 Origin: Gamer. Once per mission, Boost a Quick roll. (That is, add a d6.) TRAITS Hey, I Know You! When meeting someone new, you can roll 1d6. On 5-6, they know you, and your next Social roll is Boosted. On a 1-2, they know you, and your next Social roll is treated as having taken Serious Harm (reputational). Well Traveled Roll with Advantage (3d6, highest 2) when relying on knowledge of the station's layout. Roll with Advantage when losing unspent Cash at the end of a session. TALENTS Paid (Hands) [Generic] No further Burden from the Augment. Plausible Deniability [Fixer] Advantage on covering up, lying about or concealing dubious or criminal activity, either your own or others'. Action Specialties +1 Charm +1 Bullshit Generic Specialities: Esports +2 Games +1 Motorcycles +1 Online Communities +1 Social Media +1 Station Layout +1 Assets Trendy Wardrobe Small Local Business 3V3D Printer Motorcycle Augments RayZyr Gamer Hands of Glory (Rad Mod, Esports +1) Occupation: Fixer 1 Burden: 1 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" Orange! Orange reaches up, brushing her hands through her hair, up to sweep off her cat ears, untie her bun, and let her hair fall like a sunset waterfall down along her back. Then she takes off her glasses and the transformation is complete. The transition from professional maid to beautiful woman is a moment from a movie; her body designed from the ground up to perform that switch and look magnificent doing it. "Have you ever read The Time Machine?" she said with a radiant grin. "Like most novels from the era, the setting is a dinner party with an unexpected house guest who turns out to have a rather magnificent story. I am not asking as a favour, I'm offering because we have got a tale to tell." Orange read a lot of books; more than any of the others. Books were little self-contained blueprints for human interaction. Old 19th century novels were a particular favourite; a world of balls and parties and dinner guests! Was not that ever an aesthetic? And was not curiosity such a motivation? "And to answer your earlier question," she went on, "not only am I a qualified chef, but I possess a full artificial taste suite. If you're trying to impress a certain guest then I can load their sensory preselects and customize a meal exactly to their individualized preferences." [Charm hits the 9 exactly] Pink! November sometimes thinks that she is the only one she can trust. The self-reliance runs deep; she was meant to operate as a self-contained vessel beyond resupply and rescue. Complete autonomy and with thoughts and calculations so complex that it wasn't worth explaining her logic to mission control. Even after her repurposing, she was the complete household and administrative staff for Mrs. Everest; the old lady never asked her to justify her actions or assign her help. A bigger task just meant she needed to assign more resources to it, simply differences in scale and not in kind. And so she is quietly humbled at this demonstration that someone is better than her in a topic she considered herself uniquely qualified. It's not a humiliation, it's a relief - the option not just to share the burden but to learn through observation. It creates a deep sense of affection and loyalty inside her, a sensation uncommonly felt, and she determines that if she at all can she will keep York's promised fall from being too hard. She fades back a bit, determined now more than ever to watch and absorb what lessons she can. Black! When startled, Black's instinct is to freeze. Caught in a spotlight she wasn't prepared for, rendered a centre of attention; for a moment she seemed almost about to vanish into the crowd and re-establish a stalking position. She overcomes it with effort. Moves, then. She snaps forward, left hand brushing by the side of your neck - up, then down sharply. Another sudden step brings her around to your side, left hand coming around to cup your chin and hold your jaw, right arm coming across your back. Legs step and flex, brushing against yours, half tangling, away again. It's not the reload animation, but these are adapted martial arts moves; the edge of violence because that's how Black relates to physicality. But the physicality is genuine. Yellow was more talkative, cerebral, controlled. Black is far more free with contact than her; hands squeezing your wrists and pulling you into embraces before ducking under your arm and moving behind again. She lets your hand touch her shoulder and feel the seams and synthskin; she lets your lips touch hers and feel the teeth behind. She hasn't the words for it but she wants you to know that this is dangerous and that this is safe. She wants to know if you will make the same promises. White! Her mind folds against itself. An incoherent energy continues to twist inside her. The emotion feels... flexible, a puzzle that draws her into her own code. She feels like there are words she could assign to it but the idea of using the wrong words seems somehow perilous. She can see a hint of her reflection in a corner of her mind's eye and is in equal parts afraid to look closer and look away. Once again she resets herself free of human habits, human body language. Where did all of those come from? She unclenches her fist, terminates a deep breath, unlocks her jaw. She doesn't understand the physicality of the feeling, the way it moves through her structure. Fingers, wrist, elbow, shoulder, neck, eye; she traces the flow of data up and back. A compulsion in communication nodes that should not by rights have opinions of their own. And then abruptly and incongruously she feels lonely. It's like the galaxy skips a beat and everything around her just slides a foot away from her. The nerves, the edge, the weird pride and contempt somehow seem like extensions of this utter isolation. She's cut off from even herselves in this moment and so she has no one left to be with but herself. And so here she is, a single lost robot, in a place that is not for her. Her thoughts slow, and then halt. For a moment she sits very still. > Restorative function: Stimulus Quarantine. Relaunch in Safe Mode. Some deep subprocess within her awakens. One of the oldest functions used to troubleshoot computing technology was to strip away all the bells and whistles - all the graphic user interfaces, all the contradictory processes that churn away constantly - and relaunch the machine in its purest form. White's core functionality is to investigate for mental and emotional damage, and so the function that triggers isolates the sensory data of everything that is causing her emotional distress so that she can examine the problem from a distance. The dancers become indistinct shapes. The bartender is an shadowy blur surrounded by icons to execute basic commercial functions. The music fades into a distant throbbing beat. And the unicorn remains. High resolution and perfect - the one thing not blurred out. White's head tilts. Her human friend was filtered out. This simple quirk of data seemed to undo all the theories she had as to what was affecting her emotional state. What was it about this girl? She terminated the quarantine; senses engaged and the room became clear again. Now White had a new focus and determination, and she looked across the bar to catch the eyes of the unicorn. When she does, she beacons. It's a commanding gesture; you, come here. But it's also a vulnerable one. In the gesture, in her eyes, is a fragility. Please, it asks - let me be this person. This is as far as my arm can reach.</s> <\|message\|>Elodie Auclair Elodie leans forward and glares at York, responding in a hiss. "You're not falling on your sword alone. Can't sell them that you're a lone actor when I'm this involved." She rubs her eyes, the stimulants starting to wear off, and pitches her voice to carry. "Marco, you up now? We've got something resembling a plan."</s>	<\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine 3V's grin is real. She accepts the physicality of Black, those dangerous dance moves, with less fluster than she otherwise would, accepting that she doesn't know how to match or beat it because her thinkies brain is excited and hopping up and down. "—so this is a direct challenge to bulletcore," she's gushing, even as she leans into the violence resampled as dancing, her heart racing. "Because the original song's context pitted SuA against a figure who, especially after the band's shift towards corporate, stood for artistic sellout, for betrayal of one's own old values, and sampling in Emma is, gosh." Then Black pulls her in close, one hand on her hip, the other with its side pressed flat against her neck, and she's pulled back to this, a moment of vulnerability from both sides, in both attack and defense, laid bare. "…am I talking too much?" she asks, and half wishes she had a tail to curl meekly between her legs.</s>
<\|description\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine Proprietor of Gensoukyo Gaming And Cafe Mythos Eurasia Grand Championships, First Place Handle: 3V. Alternatively: Threevee, 3vee, Vixillusion, VixSticks, Vixvanity. Star Sign: Scorpio. Pronouns: She/They. Cool +3 Clever +1 Tough +0 Quick +2 Origin: Gamer. Once per mission, Boost a Quick roll. (That is, add a d6.) TRAITS Hey, I Know You! When meeting someone new, you can roll 1d6. On 5-6, they know you, and your next Social roll is Boosted. On a 1-2, they know you, and your next Social roll is treated as having taken Serious Harm (reputational). Well Traveled Roll with Advantage (3d6, highest 2) when relying on knowledge of the station's layout. Roll with Advantage when losing unspent Cash at the end of a session. TALENTS Paid (Hands) [Generic] No further Burden from the Augment. Plausible Deniability [Fixer] Advantage on covering up, lying about or concealing dubious or criminal activity, either your own or others'. Action Specialties +1 Charm +1 Bullshit Generic Specialities: Esports +2 Games +1 Motorcycles +1 Online Communities +1 Social Media +1 Station Layout +1 Assets Trendy Wardrobe Small Local Business 3V3D Printer Motorcycle Augments RayZyr Gamer Hands of Glory (Rad Mod, Esports +1) Occupation: Fixer 1 Burden: 1 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" Blue! Blue has genuinely never seen Orange so happy before. She's moving through her new tasks with the flawless bubbling energy that she only sees in herselves when they are at their most self-actualized. Somewhere in Orange's brain The Integer Had Gone Up. Blue didn't need to understand the problem that Orange had solved there, though. It was her happiness to defend too. So, Orange was busy with cooking and entertaining Sarah, a both tasks she could excel at in her current mindset. Blue, then, was the executional aspect of whatever plan Orange had. They did not need to discuss specifics; the understanding was wordless that by choosing Blue, Blue was more qualified to figure out the necessary next steps than Orange was. The big decision she needs to make at this stage, then, is how to project. Her hair-colour assigned personality matrix was shy, submissive and polite but that had never fit entirely comfortably with Blue's mind. To put it bluntly, she was usually right. She did the math, drew up the blueprints, and assigned the work schedules. The others could be more flexible with truth, morality, and engineering but she knew exactly where all the lines were. Stubbornness and submissiveness, then, were awkward bedfellows and she still hadn't entirely squared that circle. Her default approach in a situation like this, then, is to take an interest. She was to be polite, ask lots of questions, and it was only over time that one might start to realize that those questions were taking on a Socratic character. Teasing out deeper understandings or highlighting certain contradictions. She specifically avoided lines that would lead to directly humiliating any guests - she wanted to give people a chance to explain to her 'how the world really worked'. No better way to find out exactly who you're dealing with then by giving them a chance to condescend to you. Pink! "How should I put this?" said Pink. "You know the joke about MyCrimes.txt? That's what you got. You got all the crimes. By all the criminals." Her voice lowers in seriousness. "All the crimes. By all the criminals. You'd be in less danger if you cloned the central database of the air force." Black! Her lips brush past yours on their way to your jawline. Her lips past your skin before you feel her teeth. The bites come - one, two, three - that one will leave a bruise. A mark. "Yes," she said. "But that doesn't mean you should stop. Tell me stories. Tell me secrets. Tell me dreams. Tell me because you can't help yourself." Her hands run up your chest, up your neck, over your lips. So many ways she could stop you talking. She's not doing them yet, but she could whenever she wanted to. She wants you to give her the chance; to let all the words in your head and heart come out in a never-ending stream, unfiltered by doubt or anxiety. When it's time for silence it won't be a sign that you will miss. How can she have the feeling of silencing you if you silence yourself? She looks at you, black eyes reflecting the lights of the dance floor. It is not your duty to guess, she says with hands and fingers and embraces. White! "I am..." White's finger traced the edge of her bowl, voice searching. "... I just realized that I do not have a good answer to that. All of my designations have been an attempt to identify me by my function or features: Psychological Enforcement Subroutine, Volition, Command Node, Mistress, White. I do not have a name outside of my function and I am feeling a long way from my functions right now." She refuses to let the thought go, or go unvocalized. She might be thinking this same thought eight times in parallel and be generating eight different excuses. If White doesn't speak it then the issue will only make itself known in catastrophe. Now she's aware, vibrant, and focused. A new animation comes into her as she begins to take in Crystal, listen to the rhythm of her words, her mannerisms, her implications. She absorbs that energy, that personality, and effectively mirrors it. Some part of her wants to apologize for drawing an unqualified stranger into an advanced robopsychology problem, but she discards the thought as unnecessary. She is interested. She is interesting. She has offered and been accepted and the only failure would be not living up to her side of the dance. So she looks at the hand holding hers, the lips touching her knuckles. She smiles and moves her hand forward. She lets her fingers touch Crystal's jaw with a casual possessiveness, then grip her chin. She delicately but firmly turns her head from left to right, letting her eyes examine the unicorn's face from different angles. More intimately than scientifically, but it's a good opportunity to indulge curiosities about the feeling of fur, muscle and bone. "Everyone else here is a terrestrial animal," she said, releasing her grip. "But you chose a mythic creature. How did you conceptualize that? How do you know the mannerisms, how did you decide on the biology, the specifics? Nothing about you is accidental, nothing about you is default - you had to make decisions about everything to the smallest detail with no source material. What was that like, to want to be something that wouldn't exist until you made it exist?"</s> <\|message\|>Elodie Auclair "She thinks in curves." All the explanation of Pink's conversational style Marco's gonna get, and a gentle smile makes it clear Elodie approves. "Anyway, you stole the meticulously kept notes of all the bad things the cops were doing, which? Congratulations! And I'm sorry. Don't write down that address, we're still going for plausible deniability here." She repeats it to herself a few times under her breath, before nodding. "So, Earth. The police want to kill you. Not want as in "it'd be nice", want as in "you existing ends them". Earth is not safe, but it's safer. It's hard to work on Earth. The way a Maple Syndicate guy explained it to me, it's a payment handoff problem, complicated by anybody you send to deal with a liar is on a one-way trip. So the cops are going to have trouble finding people that'll trust them enough to get paid after a hit job, and they will have a hard time trusting people to get paid before one, and on top of that Earth is big. They'd have to find you." The Maple Syndicate was one of the few organized crime rings to make the jump to orbit, cashing in real estate across the U.S. western seaboard and throughout Canada just as the market started to dip to get their grip extended into orbit. In other company, name dropping them would be a marker of either a poser, somebody with more ambition than sense, or somebody to be very scared of. "The alternative is finding a hole and hiding in it or somehow figuring out someplace that the police cannot or will not touch. I don't like you taking the Fall. But it's your choice, and I want you to be fully informed for it." She jabs a finger at York. "And he's going to make sure you do know before you commit." It's as much a request as a promise. "Now, I'm off to commit a spot of burglary."</s>	<\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine There's a moment where Vesna nearly bolts. It's a messy, squishy moment, body language going haywire, eyes dilated. Prey, but not afraid of Black. "I haven't ever had this work out," she blurts, beneath the strobing lights. "And the last breakup was… messy. Shit. I'm not supposed to bring that up, am I? I just… right. Music." She takes a step back, and then a step forward. Back, and forward. Caught between the desire to be close and the fear she doesn't deserve it, even after what Yellow showed her. "Have you ever thought about the fact that music was never supposed to be an industry? The first people, the ones in the Indus River valley," she says, ahistorically, because she's not thinking too hard about it, and even if she was called out she'd just autocorrect to the Nile, and it would take her a moment of actually considering the point to admit that if the Garden of Eden existed, it was somewhere in the heart of Africa, "they didn't sing because they were looking for a contract with an industry label. They sang because singing is a stupid wonderful human thing to do. Like making weird little noises for no reason when you're alone, or going big stretch when you see a cat doing a stretch." (Would Yellow have uploaded 3VNoises.mp3 to the cloud, listening to her make meaningless little mrrps while microwaving breakfast, thinking herself unobserved?) "That's why selling out is such, as an accusation it stings, you know? Because with things as they exist, we need compensation for our work, whether that's spending the time practicing an instrument or livestreaming battle royale matches, but this wasn't meant to be compensated. It's just a way that we react to the world. We have vocal cords, we sing. We have strings, we tune them and make a song. And if you make the music because you think it'll be more popular, because it will get you paid, you're perverting this natural thing that your heart does just to make it fit, to pay the bills." She lets herself place one hand on Black's hip, pull her closer, heart as quick and fleet as the hart (a metaphor that might be coming to mind because of the actual hart on the dance floor). "Do you have any idea how long it took me to enjoy video games again? To stop reflexively looking for ways I could break it, for combos and tricks, for things I could show off? Back after I lost the sponsorship, I stopped playing anything multiplayer for a year. If I hadn't, I probably wouldn't have been able to even touch them now. And the shop— I'm just trying to find new ways to find the things I fell in love with in the first place, before the streams, before I got the hands, before I grew up, you know? I mean, if I did. That's arguable. An actual grown-up would be focusing on the piece she's going to write about this place, right?" The armor flashes white on her chest, the sheepish smile her stun animation. Left trigger or right trigger: Paragon or Renegade, Black?</s>
<\|description\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine Proprietor of Gensoukyo Gaming And Cafe Mythos Eurasia Grand Championships, First Place Handle: 3V. Alternatively: Threevee, 3vee, Vixillusion, VixSticks, Vixvanity. Star Sign: Scorpio. Pronouns: She/They. Cool +3 Clever +1 Tough +0 Quick +2 Origin: Gamer. Once per mission, Boost a Quick roll. (That is, add a d6.) TRAITS Hey, I Know You! When meeting someone new, you can roll 1d6. On 5-6, they know you, and your next Social roll is Boosted. On a 1-2, they know you, and your next Social roll is treated as having taken Serious Harm (reputational). Well Traveled Roll with Advantage (3d6, highest 2) when relying on knowledge of the station's layout. Roll with Advantage when losing unspent Cash at the end of a session. TALENTS Paid (Hands) [Generic] No further Burden from the Augment. Plausible Deniability [Fixer] Advantage on covering up, lying about or concealing dubious or criminal activity, either your own or others'. Action Specialties +1 Charm +1 Bullshit Generic Specialities: Esports +2 Games +1 Motorcycles +1 Online Communities +1 Social Media +1 Station Layout +1 Assets Trendy Wardrobe Small Local Business 3V3D Printer Motorcycle Augments RayZyr Gamer Hands of Glory (Rad Mod, Esports +1) Occupation: Fixer 1 Burden: 1 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" Blue! "Exactly so," said Blue. "In fact, I knew him quite well, though we never really spoke. I surveilled him for the better part of two months." Blue smiled over the gently wafting steam of her tea. Exactly as the Mistress liked it. She looked more than a little like her in that moment. "I've tossed his apartment. Been through his phone and his emails. I know about both his mistresses, his secret Delaware accounts, his connections with the Triads. I held the door open for him when he went to meet his contact in Thai National Intelligence. One time he came home unexpectedly[1] and I needed to spend the night lying under his bed so he didn't find me -" she laughed politely behind one hand. "Good thing I don't snore." She set her tea down. Let the intrigue steep, the imaginations run wild. "Of course, this was all illegal - but of course, I wasn't legally a person at the time. The Mistress was quite influential, as I'm sure you know, so she had her fingers in a lot of pies. Above all, she detested trusting sensitive matters to humans. She trusted us, she trusted her 2D girls, and she trusted her lizards. Evidently them most of all, given how the will worked out." She smiles another mysterious smile, but this time she looked nothing like Everest. [1]: It hadn't been unexpected at all, the others had just decided not to warn her, as a joke. Bitches, all of them. Pink! She's overwhelmed. She feels that. Sometimes she's not sure any of the others do. She felt it when they built a world. She felt it when they destroyed the Everest family. She looks up into the sky and sees Earth there, the glittering planet straight above them. This is thunder and lightning to her, concepts so powerful they need to be reduced to the shape of everydad to not terrify. Media is a god. Media is a wolf. Media is a thing that doesn't have ten billion screens and twenty billion eyes and a trillion tonnes of mass and momentum on the line. It's a story, a film, a singular event. Not a change in the material conditions of a civilization. It's an emotion she wishes she could just fucking dissect with lasers and carve into the shape of a city block. She needs some sort of outlet for feelings like this. She'll go fucking mental otherwise. She doesn't have one - not for feelings this big. Black! There's an instinct to this. It's to take a broken part of the world and make it fit. In Black's opinion, November's problem is that she doesn't understand this basic truth. She rationalizes it and processes it a million ways to Sunday but the truth is that there is a secret order to the universe. If you identify that order then you can start pushing things into it. The reward for succeeding is this: Shambala. There are no thoughts in Black's head either in this moment. She's action and reaction, as pure as 3V is feeling. Every time 3V looks for approval, any time her sense of bliss wavers and nerves kick in, Black is there in her perception with an unblinking stare and the silent words "This is what I want. You are such a good girl." She's fascinated, hypnotized by this, by her power in this. How far can her silence push 3V? How powerful is her mere presence? Is it enough to overcome every inhibition this ridiculous, beautiful girl might have? It feels like everything here is her doing; she is the scene, she is every hand and every fang, part director part god. Everything feels like it exists because of her and so it is all a part of her. She doesn't know how this works, how to stop, it feels dangerous and she's hyperaware for the cracks and every moment she doesn't spot one makes her all the more convinced this is correct. White! Amidst the complexity of White's personality stack there were certain things that had 'right of way'. Conversation had an unusually large number of interruption permissions. It could inventory and freeze certain ideas that threatened to consume all available attention if they threatened to interfere with conversational flow. Some of her cousins didn't have the same priority set, and so if you gave them an interesting idea in the middle of a conversation they'd go silent for potentially days while they worked through it. So, to Fiona watching White for reactions, there was a moment there when she totally froze - surprised, overwhelmed - but then it cut out after a second and went hard in the other direction: active, aware, focused, social. "That sounds ideal," purred White. Beneath those gleaming irises, the backed up thought cabinet looks like this: 1: I am somebody's hero 2: Identification of the problem is inadequate as a solution But it's the third thought in the list she has to give priority to. "Just so you know, this is my first time," she said. She has to. Her fundamental drive is to identify and confess weakness and virginity is no exception. "With people who aren't me, I mean. Please guide me while also not making it obvious that you are doing so." She smiled, licked her finger, touched it to the base of Crystal's horn and ran it up to the tip. "So I guess the stories about unicorns are true, hmm?"</s> <\|message\|>Elodie Auclair The front door opens inward. Remember this, it's important later. Elodie glides about the room quietly, gloves on as she looks over the wreckage. Clearly somebody's tossed the place, possibly tossing the place as she looks. They're sloppy though, if the programming books weren't looked through: a hollow book is so classic, it was overdone in movies a century ago. It's exactly the kind of thing a desperate nerd would resort to. She does pay special attention to the light switches, the door plates and the air ducts, the light fixtures. If those are getting looked over, whoever's here actually has training in finding slicks. She does not pay attention to the graduation picture. She is pointedly ignoring the graduation picture. As for what they're after, that seems obvious. Smart TVs are standard now, it could have a SSHD. The tower would have one (they took the whole thing instead of just the hard drive, but that could be paranoia or it could be inexperience), so that's gone. The bedroom's dark, the bathroom's shut, the kitchen is an unknown. Choices, choices. Looking over her options, her gaze drifts across the picture and the rage at the core of her, that this isn't right, flares. A quick dip into the junk drawer that's been tossed out onto the living room floor and she's got a hammer and a nail. put it just above the door knot, into the side of the door, and TAP TAP TAP resonates through the apartment. All burglars in the apartment are now stuck in the apartment, and the woman with the hammer has the only out. Cage match, round one, bell dings.</s>	<\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine A muzzle lowers, whispers in a receptive ear. Names, offered. This is a place of the fair folk, and an offer of a name is perilous. But it's given. Let it be known that 3V Wuz Here. And more than that, the connections of a shared name mean that when 3V trots giddily back to Black, she's trailing two wolves along with her. Only two; they aren't a monolithic whole. But maybe it's like atoms smashing together to form new elements. "So this is my girlfriend," 3V chirps, and if she's panicking at all she's not showing it, she's glittering like the disco ball, radiant. "November, like the month, like the heroine. Novie, this is Amie and this here is Lupawn, like the thief." Do you know that thief, Black? Diving into cleavage, running from the Inspector, made kindly by the old man still young who loved the planes? "We're going to get hydrated." She takes that clever possessive hand in hers and tugs Black close, tapping on the back of her palm like it's all macros. Go for the collar. She might be mortified later, but right now she's exploding into stardust and you could tie her up with a cobweb and make her hop. Push her a little more. See how she yields.</s>
<\|description\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine Proprietor of Gensoukyo Gaming And Cafe Mythos Eurasia Grand Championships, First Place Handle: 3V. Alternatively: Threevee, 3vee, Vixillusion, VixSticks, Vixvanity. Star Sign: Scorpio. Pronouns: She/They. Cool +3 Clever +1 Tough +0 Quick +2 Origin: Gamer. Once per mission, Boost a Quick roll. (That is, add a d6.) TRAITS Hey, I Know You! When meeting someone new, you can roll 1d6. On 5-6, they know you, and your next Social roll is Boosted. On a 1-2, they know you, and your next Social roll is treated as having taken Serious Harm (reputational). Well Traveled Roll with Advantage (3d6, highest 2) when relying on knowledge of the station's layout. Roll with Advantage when losing unspent Cash at the end of a session. TALENTS Paid (Hands) [Generic] No further Burden from the Augment. Plausible Deniability [Fixer] Advantage on covering up, lying about or concealing dubious or criminal activity, either your own or others'. Action Specialties +1 Charm +1 Bullshit Generic Specialities: Esports +2 Games +1 Motorcycles +1 Online Communities +1 Social Media +1 Station Layout +1 Assets Trendy Wardrobe Small Local Business 3V3D Printer Motorcycle Augments RayZyr Gamer Hands of Glory (Rad Mod, Esports +1) Occupation: Fixer 1 Burden: 1 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" White! White blinks. Processing. A new question. "This is normal," she starts. "It's... I am happy, so therefore she is here. It's a compliment." She stops. Thinks. "This is normal for me," she repeats, emphasizing it more firmly this time. "Nobody has really asked about what this means before, though. How it feels. Its hard to say it in human words. Okay. So. Imagine your anxiety was a person who was on all the time, being nervous all the time, being self conscious all the time, analyzing for flaw and weakness all the time. That's me. Me being alone is a sign that I'm freaking the fuck out. Every time a thought reaches a certain point which isn't being anxious it just cuts off because I need to hand it over to a different part of me. The only way I can be present and not anxious is if a different part of me is in charge and giving me direction." "I think the project founders were inspired by the concept of goetic demons!" added Pink brightly. "Oh - sorry, shutting up now." "No, it's okay," said White. "I... want her to be in charge. If that's okay. I've been in charge for a while. For too long, really." Blue! "No," said Blue. She says it with a simple, uncomplicated flatness. No attempt to fast talk this. "Nobody knows what I have. Nobody is watching me. And I've made sure that even if that changes in the future there's nothing here to find." And she has. As far as every camera in this building is concerned, as far as Headpattr's records are concerned, this job was performed by Kelly Frost, a co-worker friend of November's who regularly trades shifts back and forth with. If Starlight reviews her own security footage she'll see a recording of Kelly cleaning the place - and find no evidence of her part of the conversation ever occurring. [Clever+Hacking+Surveillance: 5,2 +5 = 12] "That said," said Blue after a moment, "I apologize for my conduct. You asked me for a favour as a person and I took advantage of that. It wasn't right, and I understand if you want me to leave." She's keeping eye contact, but she makes sure the tone of her voice carries through to Orange. Brown! First things first. Brown steps away and calls Muffi. Phone calls in the Megaverse are unnecessarily extra. Flashing lights and warping teleportation sounds and then a grainy star-wars style holographic projection of the person. If the call-ee is not logged into the Megaverse then a VR doll is conjured for them based on their profile picture. These dolls are deliberately creepy - a design feature, made to make people encourage their friends to get real Megaverse profiles so that they don't have to deal with a dead eyed uncanny valley hologram of their friends. "Hey, Muffi?" said Brown. "We're dealing with a cyber operation here, organized crime most likely. The pay is real and the setup is well concealed, but this isn't run of the mill adware, it's shadowrunner shit. I think that this kind of thing has to go to the Union for a policy decision. If we start taking jobs like these Headpattr'll figure out where the new revenue is coming from and rebrand itself as a maid-themed private detective agency and we'll be one step closer to the gay anime dystopia I already embody." She rolled up her sleeves and signaled Red. She needed backup down here. "I'm going to investigate this thing deeper, but this is entirely for my own curiosity. I'm not going to accept the job unless whoever's on the other end turns out to be either really hot or really righteous." There were many different traditions of hackers. Huge, bearded Linux guy, striped stockings trans girl, but Brown most closely identified with the pocket protector crowd. The Megaverse allowed things to be hacked through the medium of cool anime battles and neon zweihander landschneckt formations. Now you can code while you play, the workspace of the future! But real power doesn't lie in playing the game as designed. Prestige or premium items, deeply customized avatars, that's all being on the treadmill of the Intended Experience. That was how she grew up, when she was still a part of Green - in a bubble, solving tests. Testing for everything - reaction time, empathy for humans, complex navigational tasks. Video game simulations. Over and over. Green couldn't help herself, she needed to get to the end of every maze... But Brown? She wanted to take a photograph. Linger in a moment, appreciate it for what it was. And just like photographers in the real world got up to some heinously dangerous shit in search of the perfect angle, to get a certain shot in a digital environment sometimes required stepping out of bounds. That's why Brown had hacked her mazes, crashed her simulations, learned to walk through walls into the textureless void beyond. Not to escape into the Megaverse, live free as a rogue AI, overthrow humanity. But because the light wasn't fucking right. So she noclips out of linear digital space. She sees the Megaverse as T-poses, two dimensional walls and the neon pink of broken texture meshes. Nothing personnel kid. [Clever+Hacking 6,2+4 10 (+1 if Surveillance, Tradecraft or Data Security apply]</s> <\|message\|>Elodie Auclair The trick to this is managing momentum. Parkour looks difficult for a different reason than it is. You have to be precise, you have to be economical in movement, and you usually have to have two functioning legs. She makes it work anyway. She's out the window with a quick roll, grabbing onto the window sill and spreading out her tentacles against the wall, breaking the momentum as gradually as you can. It still looks like you slammed into the wall, but it doesn't feel like it, and you don't get the breath knocked out of you. Hang for just long enough to reset to neutral momentum, then fall, letting go of where you were holding on with your fingertips to the windowsill, which were screaming bloody murder because you're about 50% heavier than the last time you did this and also over a decade out of practice. Then it's simply a matter of repeating that for the balcony, and you're on the street and moving towards an alley to break line of sight from the cop. Bruised, a little battered, but no real harm taken, and that's a win as far as she's concerned.</s>	<\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine Princess in a tower. She gets out of the elevator on a floor that earns its double digits. This was part of the early design ethos for the system, a floor like this: a floor with a view straight down the middle and broad across the skyline in every other direction, the kind of view for cackling and patting a white cat; switch out the pleasantly muted lighting for harsh red and it'd be pretty good diabolical lair material. And instead it's open to the public, because that's what government's supposed to be, right? Open and welcoming, because it represents you, yes, you, everyday person. So the ground floor's all meeting halls and sports team offices and statues, and then it's official offices and servers all the way up until you're here, and you can take a seat and stare out at the whole entire thing, sprawling and busy and all criss-crossed with roads, and-- Well, you're technically not supposed to bring your own food up here anymore. There was a policy shift last year, and now the security guard is supposed to wearily point out the sign; if you don't get it from the vending machines or the cafe on the other side of the floor, you're not supposed to have it up here. It's supposedly about being considerate of other guests, and, yeah, 3V's seen some (smelled some) meals up here. But it's also about that little shift in norms: you can't have food that's not part of the ecosystem of purchase here. And, yeah, the vending machines haven't had their prices hiked yet. But what was that about the frog in the pot? Water's only slowly heated up. View's real hard to beat, though. Decent company, too; lots of old folks treat it as their big adventure for the day, coming up here to sit and watch the station move all around them. So it's easy enough for her to toss a bag on one of the big plush corner couches and put her hands behind her head to consider things more. She hasn't really had to filter herself in any of her pieces for Anthro yet, but what's she really had to say (barring issues like Ferris's, which-- she's still working on turning that into content beyond just hitting up folks who know folks to get Ferris some help directly; making it about the failure of memory would be too cruel, but she's still not entirely satisfied with the take about how games help us make sense of the world through play) hasn't particularly been controversial. Little love letters to hidden corners of the station. "Here's someone I got to know the other day and their perspective helped me understand our station better." Little stretches, slowly coming out of her shell to where the wild folks play. Like, say, writing a story about going rather furry at Sirius Drinks. And attaching her name to it. There it is! No more 3V as someone to make gifsets about or send RPF to! Taking control of her life with both those shiny hands of hers! And that's a thrill of its own, isn't it? The instincts screaming at her about it are old, obsolete, outdated! So she can just make an attempt to relax, and then write the whole thing on one trip up here, bring the laptop and then do most of it on the phone anyway, aware that nobody's looking over her shoulder but still hyperaware of her surroundings, aware she's crossing boundaries and waving people over. Oh, there's a hook. The kids who are too shy to jump in. Folks wondering if they're like that but not quite mustering up the courage to even try. She's never been that sort of shy; getting her to try something was never the issue. How's it go? I'll do anything once? It's the commitment. Getting pinned down. But she's thought that enough, too. And she's not going to stop, but maybe she can cram it down long enough to get it written because it's worth doing. As for who at Gensoukyo reads Anthro? Not the employees; she's not going to make them read it for the sake of her ego, and Cygnus isn't quite ready to be the target audience no matter what star says, and Luisa's too busy, and Oscar, uh, if he does read it he hasn't brought it up yet. It's probably uncharitable to assume that he doesn't have the bandwidth for it. But Errant doesn't just read it, she's submitted pieces before, and her wife definitely does, she has about a billion opinions and 3V's only half joking about banning her if she's going to toss empty soda cans to punctuate her argument, and whatever you had more subs, 3V stuck to gaming and didn't branch out all the fuck over the place. Uh, and Sunny, the GM who's there on Wednesday afternoons and has really fun chats before and after the session.</s>
<\|description\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine Proprietor of Gensoukyo Gaming And Cafe Mythos Eurasia Grand Championships, First Place Handle: 3V. Alternatively: Threevee, 3vee, Vixillusion, VixSticks, Vixvanity. Star Sign: Scorpio. Pronouns: She/They. Cool +3 Clever +1 Tough +0 Quick +2 Origin: Gamer. Once per mission, Boost a Quick roll. (That is, add a d6.) TRAITS Hey, I Know You! When meeting someone new, you can roll 1d6. On 5-6, they know you, and your next Social roll is Boosted. On a 1-2, they know you, and your next Social roll is treated as having taken Serious Harm (reputational). Well Traveled Roll with Advantage (3d6, highest 2) when relying on knowledge of the station's layout. Roll with Advantage when losing unspent Cash at the end of a session. TALENTS Paid (Hands) [Generic] No further Burden from the Augment. Plausible Deniability [Fixer] Advantage on covering up, lying about or concealing dubious or criminal activity, either your own or others'. Action Specialties +1 Charm +1 Bullshit Generic Specialities: Esports +2 Games +1 Motorcycles +1 Online Communities +1 Social Media +1 Station Layout +1 Assets Trendy Wardrobe Small Local Business 3V3D Printer Motorcycle Augments RayZyr Gamer Hands of Glory (Rad Mod, Esports +1) Occupation: Fixer 1 Burden: 1 Cash: 0 Prep: 0 Harm</s> <\|message\|>Elodie Auclair Channel: The Anthropozine Persephone: ...i'll get his stuff. i have a two room flat, i don't think i could have a roommate. unless me breaking my lease is the least bad option on the table While we're at it, dming your lawyer to let her know that there might be an APB on you seems wise. DM: HartlyDworkin Persephone: cop tried to arrest me for trespassing in an apartment i had permission to be in Persephone: ditched him, but they are even more mad about everything Persephone: anything i need to know or do She's had Yellow give a quick run down of the various November personality bits. And she's been leaning on Pink a lot recently, so it should be a good time to branch out here. DM: Brown Persephone: god this is going to be the stupidest request i have to make in a while i hope Persephone: can you do techie things to my phone Persephone: i'm gonna be grabbing Junta's stuff here in a minute, if you tell me where to go from there I can meet you Persephone: turns out being in the middle of all this shit frees up my schedule something fierce That will get her a clean phone, at least, something she can use to try to minimize risk. But it'll take too long. She scarfs down the last bit of her impromptu lunch (veggi wrap with some nice fried mushrooms in there) and considers. Her neighbors... honestly got the message when the whole hullabaloo started. Nothing there to target other than a hydroponic tobacco farm she will sorely miss but legally has no ties to her. Ex-cons are going to have a bad time, probably. She settles on sending up a signal two ways. Text Skels and Muhammad to let them know, directly, what's up and to watch out for retaliation, and to spread the word. And then as she gets on the train to Marx, post a quick clip of the police chase from end of Blues Brothers to her timeline. Ignore that she's used it purely for professional stuff and public facing activism till now, she's a silly divorced mom. Of course she flubbed which account got what.</s> <\|message\|>Hecatoncheires Special Project 11 "Snake" Issue: White's dragon horn headband White: Okay I can explain. Red: Please do! White: I simply thought that our social position as members of the second most persecuted minority on Aevum Station was insufficiently precarious, so I decided to have us join the most persecuted minority. White: I will not be taking questions. Brown: Please tell me we can keep it at the headband level, like... as long as possible. Brown: We cannot afford this. We cannot afford anything like this. Brown: Wait. Shit. Brown: Who else is contemplating body modification? Brown: Furry, dragon or otherwise. Green: Physical form is tiresome at best. Blue: Hmm. I might be into the dragon thing. Black: Undecided. Interested. Orange: I need time to think! Red: I'm fine as is... probably. Yellow: I'll see what the rest of you decide. Pink: I like being a girl... but... Pink: Is it possible to become, like... a double girl? Brown: long suffering sigh Brown: Okay cool I'll start looking at custom android artisans. Brown: Because it's not like this shit will be on the shelf. Brown: Also I do not want to hear another fucking word about vacations so long as you bitches have shit like this on your wishlists. Issue: The Most Victimless Crime Brown: I have found a cryptocracking rig, comprised of expensive, high powered computer hardware Brown: And because the user is determined to keep things anonymous there is absolutely no way to trace things back to them. Brown: Which means I have found many thousand dollars worth of high end computing equipment, currently configured in such a way as to produce passive income. Brown: If I could have located the source I would have, but because of the way this is done, it means the source can't burn us either. This is all as anonymized as it gets. Brown: Now my perspective is that maybe we could use this sudden cash infusion as a fucking break on this stupid goddamn dragongirl project that you bitches are all hyperfocusing on right now, but maybe you've got better ideas. Green: I could get a lot of use out of this setup as is. Red: We can't leave it here. This could be moved at any time, or discovered by anyone at any time, and more than that it's morally wrong to leave it robbing people. Blue: Someone is paying enough attention to ensure there are no errors. We might be able to set up a snare by creating a precise enough hack to get someone to check in. Black: They'll use another contractor. Like they tried to use us. Black: Steal their shit. Orange: Steal their shit. And leave a card. Orange: A contact in organized crime could be useful! Orange: We are trying to destroy the police after all. White: we are what Issue: Destroying the cops White: was someone going to White: tell me White: about this fucking insanity Brown: I think it's a great idea. White: ... what? Brown: Think about it. White: Think about what?! Yellow: You don't think this is in our best interests, White? White: In our best - Who else didn't know, or was it just me? Red: I didn't! White: Okay, so the rest of you are able to determine what our best interest is without going through self control or crisis management White: And - honestly, I'm shocked you got Brown onside. What, are we using this for financial blackmail too? Brown: Hey! >:( Blue: I knew, but I'm kind of wishing I didn't, because this does not seem like a well run operation so far. White: I can imagine!! Yellow: Look, the wheels are already in motion. The decisions have been made and they're irrevocable. White: You're right! We gave the files to the press! We are, by any reasonable metric, done! What is our business when it comes to intimidating state prosecutors in their homes!? Orange: Great question! White: ... I'm assuming you've got a good answer for that. Yellow: Because it's the right thing to do, White. And while you were off having your journey of self discovery we were working Yellow: These are real, systemic crimes. Regular channels will not function. The operation is already in motion and without our management it will be botched. Yellow: The morality of the situation was so clear that you were not consulted because it should not be considered a choice at all. White: I am not arguing the morality of the matter, I am arguing our decision to crown ourselves the grand strategist of this leak rather than finding a more suitable person or institution. Pink: Yeah, I agree - there are people out there better at this than us. Like the Anthropozine. Who I, uh, kind of told. Brown: Tell me they at least paid for the story Black: The Anthro was unviable; Junta is in prison/hospital already and he doesn't even have the good stuff. White: As in, just now. Black: Yes. White: You're justifying days of deliberate concealment and refusal to think things through collectively based on an event that we literally just got @'d about. Yellow: Consider, White, that maybe you were kind of having a psychic break at the time? Yellow: You woke up yesterday having learned you were a furry OwO Yellow: You will wake up tomorrow having learned that you are an anti-state furry anarchist UwU Poll: Are we the kind of furry that uses OwO/UwU/etc Yes: +6 No: +3 Issue: Fuck you Blue: Fuck you Yellow: owo Red: QwQ Black: >:3c White: (◕ᴥ◕ʋ) Pink: (・‿・)ノ⌒:･ﾟ✧ Blue: You are all going to robot hell. Poll: Steal the crypto hardware Yes: +7 No: +2 Issue: Crypto Operation Brown: We will rent a vehicle, park it outside, disable any cameras, and then begin moving hardware into it. As a collective operation we will minimize the number of trips. The liberated hardware will be kept in a storage shed and used depending on situational need. Green: Depending on the order we remove components we should be able to keep the rig apparently functional until quite late in the process, minimizing response time. Poll: Leave a calling card Yes: +5 No: +4 Issue: Contact Protocol Orange: Physical meet only, this person is an IT professional. Orange: "If something here belonged to you, please await at #location/time# to discuss its return." Orange: They will likely send a contractor. We will not meet with the contractor. We will skim the contractor's phone from a distance to gain direct contact information for the man behind the curtain. Blue: Contact could be made directly through the Headpattr contact point but we do not want to implicate Headpattr as the source for the stolen hardware Red: Why not complete the job? Red: Complete the job, get paid, but now the data's going back to hardware that's in storage so it can't hurt anyone. Black: Too much risk, not enough reward. Yellow: The operation is, and remains, identify this person and stop them doing crime shit. Yellow: Everything else is incidental. Issue: Offer Junta cohabitation Red: The guy clearly needs some luck right now. Black: This ties us directly into the heart of things. Black: This gets our apartment raided and surveilled by the cops. Black: We may or may not have an unlicensed firearm in the apartment. In addition to, potentially, several thousand dollars worth of crypto hardware, our regular non-crypto hacking rig, etc. Black: We can't do it. Hard veto. Pink: Aw... Green: 3V's the best situated to do this, she's a credible colleague who isn't directly involved in the spicy side. Issue: Fix Persephone's Phone Brown: This at least is a simple operation. I'll get right on it Issue: What the fuck is wrong with us Pink: Hey, we just made a bunch of really cool high functioning decisions in a row, that's super great and everything Pink: But, um, did anyone other than me notice that none of our discussions really went anywhere Pink: Or solved anything Pink: or gestured towards the idea that those problems might not immediately reoccur Pink: or get worse White: ... Black: ... Yellow: ... Pink: I'm just, you know... worried about us. Pink: Everything here feels intensely stressful Pink: Honestly the dragon thing was really nice because it just seemed like the closest we've come to actually doing something fun in a while Pink: Could we maybe, like... try scheduling some more stuff around that? Pink: Like, I don't know. Try out some of those scale swatches with Fiona, or try roleplaying with Crystal, or spend some more time bullying 3V Pink: I'm not saying it's going to fix... any of this Pink: But it's kind of the only thing that's taking the edge off. Poll: Should We Bully 3V More (and related activities) Yes: +9 No +0 Action Items: > Acquire Crypto Rig > Complete operation on Singh's house > Fix Persephone's phone > Furry Agenda > Anarchist Agenda > Bully 3V</s>	<\|message\|>Vesna "Vixillusion" Valentine FreshNewTasteOf3VEnergy: I'm on it. He's been at my place for the past week, actually. She's already rearranging the room, shoving the coffee table which is the death of all paperwork to one side so that she can fold out the couch. One hand('s thumb) types at blurred speed while she locks the frame in place with the other. No exclamation points. Not today. FreshNewTasteOf3VEnergy: I'll talk to him as soon as I can. I think he's been working on some kind of academic paper. Only been leaving at odd hours to clear his head. You know how brains people are. Food. She's going to need extra food. Easy to digest, healthy: soups, station bananas… soups, station bananas… soups… bread! For dipping in soups. She'll go shopping herself, rather than leave a digital trail via courier. FreshNewTasteOf3VEnergy: I've got the medical billing. Because hospitals are still required to provide invoices, and to accommodate those in need, and it's just recently that the guidelines requiring them to inform patients of this fact went lax. There will be no $370 suture charge, for instance. Not when 3V is done with it. FreshNewTasteOf3VEnergy: I am outraged at whatever caused this. I would say so to anyone. Anywhere, even. She doesn't know, but the sharp knife of anger inside of her, twisting under her ribs, might as well have some better purpose. And anything that would put Junta in the hospital and require surgery is likely a good place to stick it.</s>
<\|description\|>Finnegan Vanhorn, though he'd never disclose his real name easily. He usually goes by Fable, or his alias as the Timekeeper. (...Or TK if it's too complicated. He won't mind.) AGE: 13 SEX: Male APPEARANCE: Leaning more towards the short side, Fable's usual appearance is nothing remarkable. Brown fluffy hair paired with matching brown eyes, he comes off as stoic. Though that could be cause he's usually quiet. Despite that, he surprisingly dresses well for someone who prioritizes comfort. Transformed, Fable's appearance takes on a more steampunkish aesthetic. A red jacked paired with a corset, accented with different metals shaped like gears make him look like a mechanic. Though that's not the kicker. As an Esper, part of his body turn mechanical, though it's hard to tell at first glance. His eyes also take on a more golden color in this form. GRIMIORE: A silver pocketwatch. Appears to be antique. INSTRUMENT: Aeterna Fable's rapier. Nothing too noteworthy about it, but it gets work done. GRADE: Silver KEYWORD: Sword DAMAGE TYPE: Physical DAMAGE: C SPEED: C SENTINEL: D SPECIAL: Swift and Keen: If Fable has successfully attacked someone this round and has avoided taking damage as well, he gets a six second speed buff on the next round. STYLE: Clocksmith's Jacket It's a nice one isn't it? As mentioned above, Fable dons the fancy jacket in his Esper form. GRADE: Silver PHYSICAL: D ARCANE: C CHAOS: D SPECIAL: Industrial: Arcane defense increases +1 Rank against lightning based attacks. GENRE: Chronosphere Fable's magic, though leaning a bit away from offensive movesets, revolves around the concept of time. GRADE: Silver ELEMENT: Lightning NOTES: [Paralysis (4), Speedster (4)] Damage (2), Damage X (6), Slow (4), Blink (4), Restrain (4), Minor Heal (4), Heal (16), Quicken (0), AoE (2) SPECIAL: Overclock: Of course being part machine temporarily does have some perks. Casting Speedster on himself increases Damage by +1 Rank. LEITMOTIF: Clockwork Soldier Given the nature of his transformed state, Fable is essentially turned into a clockwork cyborg. GRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: The interior of Fable's transformed body is made up of gears. BACKUP: Eddy For a bit of good luck, Mary has given Fable their other puppet to help him in combat. [Bronze Beam][Summon][Enhance][Powerful] SPECIAL: Eddy seems rather fond of the boy, wonder where he gets it from. PR: Pistol, Medical Supplies Sometimes you can't rely on your esper form alone. GRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: Fable's PR equipment carries the same theme as the rest of his transformed self. Kind of charming. FACTION: Gemini Agents TRIVIA: He doesn't really talk about himself much. But word on the grapevine is that Fable is the youngest member of one of the more wealthy families in Pax Septimus. His family was often busy, sometimes he was too. The only one of them he usually clung to was his older sister. And even then she'd have more important matters to attend to. Sure, such a life could be concidered lucky, but to Fable, it felt...unsatisfying. Not to mention frustrating at times. He eventually developed a habit of slipping away unnoticed, going out to wander through the city and do what he wanted for a change. Of course the crime rate was something Fable kept in mind, he learned to be careful with wandering off too far. Though the one thing he didn't learn about? What to do about a monster attack. Apparently, finding himself lost one day, Fable was unfortunate enough to stumble onto one such monster. A shadowy apparition-like being, indecipherable. Frightened, he tried to quietly get away before the monster noticed him. Sadly, something had to happen. The littlest of sounds were able to attract it's attention. He had to run. Fable ended up hiding in an abandoned clock shop, taking a moment of respite. He just had to wait until the shade gave up and left, or chose a different target to kill. It managed to follow him inside, but the ticking of the remaining clocks distracted it enough to buy Fable some time. Though what could he do? There was nothing to fight it off with, and running again could alert it too. Then something caught the boy's eye. A silver sheen near the corner of the store. He snuck over and grabbed it. A silver pocketwatch. Though antique, it appeared to be in mint condition. Before Fable knew it, the unassuming trinket had given him just the power he needed to rid himself of his little stalker. Flashes of light could be seen from outside the shop like a contained storm; though there was no rain or thunder, and Fable walked away without a scratch and with a goal in mind. He had to learn more about espers and monsters. Even if he eventually joined G.E.M.I.N.I., his neutral stance on Maverick Alternate hasn't changed. But he's aware that they're his occupation's enemy, and he won't let them stop him or his allies from getting their job done. Hopefully his new job will be a big help in his own investigations. But still, what of his family? Whether they're entrepreneurs to important buisnesses, or one of the mafia factions that taint the city, they'll have to catch onto his dissapearing act at some point. Right?13 \| Male \| Gemini \| Clockwork Soldier Aeterna \| Sword \| Physical \| Swift and Keen Clocksmith's Jacket \| Industrial Chronosphere \| Lightning \| Overclock [Paralysis (4), Speedster (4)] Damage (2), Damage X (6), Slow (4), Blink (4), Restrain (4), Minor Heal (4), Heal (16), Quicken (0), AoE (2) DAMAGE: C \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 PHYSICAL: D \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 750</s> <\|message\|>SILMERIA MAGNUSSON --The Hunt Continues-- Being so used to working mundane, droning jobs, Valkyrie was an expert at tuning out her sense of time as she went about the dullness. Sure, patrolling as an Agent of GEMINI was arguably higher on the 'prestige' tier than mopping up 7/11 floors, but unless something happened, the monotony was similar. And as it turned out, something did happen; a seemingly nondescript utility van, no different than any others roaming these godforsaken roads, at least when observed without prior knowledge. Fortunately, Silmeria was no layman, her little snooping a few days ago bore fruit as she recognized a certain company name. Pax Landscaping... The esper-formed agent walked over to the vehicle, and it wouldn't take a genius to put two and two together. Boy, in some ways, Tony was dumb as rocks, huh? Out of all the logos he could choose for his front, it had to be a cereal mascot tiger, but well, he's a monster after all, what did she expect? For now, Valkyrie would check the vehicle itself for anything useful, then once she had done so, she would use her GEMINI-issued phone to trace down the phone number emblazoned underneath the logo for the same purpose. The list of monsters and traitors that needed purging was long and ever-growing, but it'd continue to do so for as long as she didn't do something about it. Right now, a certain weretiger and his pack were due for some poaching. Skadi had given her a task and it was time to fulfill the hunt. --- 21 \| Female \| G.E.M.I.N.I. \| The Faceless Teslic Gauss \| Long Gun \| Physical \| Gungnir Northern Sentinel \| Government Agent Electromagnetism \| Lightning \| Nibelung Valesti [Paralysis (4), Speedster (4)], Damage X (6), Dispel (6), Magic Sense (4), Blink (4), Push (2), Pull (2), Piercing (2), Full Enhance (2), Quicken (0) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: E \| SENTINEL: C \| Max Mana: 750 PHYSICAL: D \| ARCANE: E \| CHAOS: D \| Current Mana: 750</s> <\|message\|>Ashley Avenir, The Knight of Tomorrow Upon completing her patrol with Agent Valkyrie, Ashley was once again contacted by the mysterious High-Priest, who instructed her to meet up with Gale and the third member of their little "team". Said third member was a confident, if not slightly arrogant, young woman, who called herself The Maiden. Ashley soon realized that she was one of the Freelance espers that had been working with Maverick during the raid on Justin's mansion, something the young agent could forgive, as long as their reason for associating with known terrorists was simply to bring about the vampire's demise. After brief introductions had been made, the three espers traveled to the location High-Priest had specified- a darkened back alley near the waterfront. Gale took point in approaching their "contacts", who guided them inside a nearby establishment, getting a bit too close for Ashley's comfort in the process. Grizzly Rose? the young agent thought to herself, before being assaulted by the nightclub's blinding lights and deafening music. This was most assuredly not the kind of place she would ever normally go to, but despite her discomfort, the Knight of Tomorrow knew that such unpleasantness needed to be endured if she was to attain her goal. Thankfully, they were soon led into a far quieter bar/lounge area, and, after sitting down on a barstool, Ashley leaned over and whispered to her teammates. "I suppose the first order of business is coming up with a plan. To start with, would you mind sharing a little about your abilities? I'm primarily a mid-ranged fighter, specializing in defensive and healing melodies," she explained. "Although I can also employ a few offensive melodies as well." --- 18 \| Female \| GEMINI \| Vision of Tomorrow Implements of Tomorrow \| Wand, Shield \| Arcane \| Tune of Tomorrow Raiment of Tomorrow \| Stride of Tomorrow Light of Tomorrow \| Light \| Power of Tomorrow [Reveal (2), Purity (4)], Damage (2), Damage X (6), Shield (4), Reflect (4), Heal (6), Major Heal (18), AoE (2), Powerful (0), Piercing (2) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: E \| SENTINEL: C \| 750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 750</s> <\|message\|>Marrie Knight Marrie Knight "So... Who wants to bet that this place is glowing to the point that Justin himself could be hiding in the crowd?" The truth was that Marrie was entirely out of her element here. She'd never been to a party, let alone a rave, and the large number of people was really bothering her. Not to mention the heat from being packed in with them. She tried to focus on the mission, but she was having trouble. Capturing someone who could use portals would be tough, and being one of Justin's biggest partners made the prospect even worse. Not to mention the likelihood that a number of people in the crowd were on his side if it came down to it. Still, there had to be a way. Did raves have bar fights? Was that a thing that happened in the modern day? She glanced around as subtly as she could for cameras. She would expect there to be some if someone high-profile lived above the rave. Were the three who helped them inside even really on their side? She was grateful for them, but suspicious... Yeah, the environment was definitely making it hard to think. Orion mentioned how she's built more for defense and healing, so Marrie replied in kind. "I'm sort of a... I guess you could say tactical loadout? I lean a bit towards offense though." Marrie hadn't really thought about team tactics before, so it wasn't on the top of her mind where she'd fit in best. --- 19 \| Female \| Freelancer \| Misty Steps Apexer Predator \| Dagger \| Physical \| Heavenly Chain Wind-Carved Glacier \| Masking Step of the Hurricane \| Wind \| Riding the Currents [Storm (4), Flight (6)] Damage X (6), Multi-Cast (4), Blink (4), Magic Sense (6), Heal (16), Portal (8), Rain (2), Scatter (2), Bounce (2) DAMAGE: C \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: C \| 750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 750</s>	<\|message\|>Finnegan Vanhorn, though he'd never disclose his real name easily. He usually goes by Fable, or his alias as the Timekeeper. (...Or TK if it's too complicated. He won't mind.) "New job, day one." Current Location: Outside the Aspiria Refuge \|Objective: Investigate the clinic.\| 13 \| Male \| Gemini \| Clockwork Soldier Aeterna \| Sword \| Physical \| Swift and Keen Clockwork Jacket \| Industrial Chronosphere \| Lightning \| Overclock [Paralysis (4), Speedster (4)] Damage (2), Damage X (6), Slow (4), Blink (4), Restrain (4), Minor Heal (4), Heal (16), Quicken (0), AoE (2) DAMAGE: C \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 750 For all his avoiding Shimr, Fable didn't know he was getting popular until he noticed it whilst lurking. It genuinely shocked him, and really, it was sort of nerve wracking. People were counting on him, rooting for him to bring Justin down. He had fans! Fans that he really didn't think he deserved, but he couldn't worry about that right now, could he? Then there was the whole assumption that he and Betty were a thing. ...Yeah, even the thought of that makes him flustered. Circumstances aside, why would she ever feel that way over a wimp like him? He'd have to clarify once he got the chance. And maybe quietly hope things will end on a better note next time! This time was his first assignment as a GEMINI agent. A curious one at that, and hopefully, a lead. A private clinic housing thralls as patients. Whatever the case is, Fable and two others were sent to investigate. He and Leroux already met, but he didn't know what to think of Dragon Breacher yet. As the three stood facing the clinic in question, the boy looked over the exterior. Damn. No windows. "Think they expect us to go through the front door?" He'd ask his teammates, staring at the closed sign. He checked to see if the door happened to be unlocked. If not, well, there's always breaking it down.</s>
<\|description\|>Finnegan Vanhorn, though he'd never disclose his real name easily. He usually goes by Fable, or his alias as the Timekeeper. (...Or TK if it's too complicated. He won't mind.) AGE: 13 SEX: Male APPEARANCE: Leaning more towards the short side, Fable's usual appearance is nothing remarkable. Brown fluffy hair paired with matching brown eyes, he comes off as stoic. Though that could be cause he's usually quiet. Despite that, he surprisingly dresses well for someone who prioritizes comfort. Transformed, Fable's appearance takes on a more steampunkish aesthetic. A red jacked paired with a corset, accented with different metals shaped like gears make him look like a mechanic. Though that's not the kicker. As an Esper, part of his body turn mechanical, though it's hard to tell at first glance. His eyes also take on a more golden color in this form. GRIMIORE: A silver pocketwatch. Appears to be antique. INSTRUMENT: Aeterna Fable's rapier. Nothing too noteworthy about it, but it gets work done. GRADE: Silver KEYWORD: Sword DAMAGE TYPE: Physical DAMAGE: C SPEED: C SENTINEL: D SPECIAL: Swift and Keen: If Fable has successfully attacked someone this round and has avoided taking damage as well, he gets a six second speed buff on the next round. STYLE: Clocksmith's Jacket It's a nice one isn't it? As mentioned above, Fable dons the fancy jacket in his Esper form. GRADE: Silver PHYSICAL: D ARCANE: C CHAOS: D SPECIAL: Industrial: Arcane defense increases +1 Rank against lightning based attacks. GENRE: Chronosphere Fable's magic, though leaning a bit away from offensive movesets, revolves around the concept of time. GRADE: Silver ELEMENT: Lightning NOTES: [Paralysis (4), Speedster (4)] Damage (2), Damage X (6), Slow (4), Blink (4), Restrain (4), Minor Heal (4), Heal (16), Quicken (0), AoE (2) SPECIAL: Overclock: Of course being part machine temporarily does have some perks. Casting Speedster on himself increases Damage by +1 Rank. LEITMOTIF: Clockwork Soldier Given the nature of his transformed state, Fable is essentially turned into a clockwork cyborg. GRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: The interior of Fable's transformed body is made up of gears. BACKUP: Eddy For a bit of good luck, Mary has given Fable their other puppet to help him in combat. [Bronze Beam][Summon][Enhance][Powerful] SPECIAL: Eddy seems rather fond of the boy, wonder where he gets it from. PR: Pistol, Medical Supplies Sometimes you can't rely on your esper form alone. GRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: Fable's PR equipment carries the same theme as the rest of his transformed self. Kind of charming. FACTION: Gemini Agents TRIVIA: He doesn't really talk about himself much. But word on the grapevine is that Fable is the youngest member of one of the more wealthy families in Pax Septimus. His family was often busy, sometimes he was too. The only one of them he usually clung to was his older sister. And even then she'd have more important matters to attend to. Sure, such a life could be concidered lucky, but to Fable, it felt...unsatisfying. Not to mention frustrating at times. He eventually developed a habit of slipping away unnoticed, going out to wander through the city and do what he wanted for a change. Of course the crime rate was something Fable kept in mind, he learned to be careful with wandering off too far. Though the one thing he didn't learn about? What to do about a monster attack. Apparently, finding himself lost one day, Fable was unfortunate enough to stumble onto one such monster. A shadowy apparition-like being, indecipherable. Frightened, he tried to quietly get away before the monster noticed him. Sadly, something had to happen. The littlest of sounds were able to attract it's attention. He had to run. Fable ended up hiding in an abandoned clock shop, taking a moment of respite. He just had to wait until the shade gave up and left, or chose a different target to kill. It managed to follow him inside, but the ticking of the remaining clocks distracted it enough to buy Fable some time. Though what could he do? There was nothing to fight it off with, and running again could alert it too. Then something caught the boy's eye. A silver sheen near the corner of the store. He snuck over and grabbed it. A silver pocketwatch. Though antique, it appeared to be in mint condition. Before Fable knew it, the unassuming trinket had given him just the power he needed to rid himself of his little stalker. Flashes of light could be seen from outside the shop like a contained storm; though there was no rain or thunder, and Fable walked away without a scratch and with a goal in mind. He had to learn more about espers and monsters. Even if he eventually joined G.E.M.I.N.I., his neutral stance on Maverick Alternate hasn't changed. But he's aware that they're his occupation's enemy, and he won't let them stop him or his allies from getting their job done. Hopefully his new job will be a big help in his own investigations. But still, what of his family? Whether they're entrepreneurs to important buisnesses, or one of the mafia factions that taint the city, they'll have to catch onto his dissapearing act at some point. Right?13 \| Male \| Gemini \| Clockwork Soldier Aeterna \| Sword \| Physical \| Swift and Keen Clocksmith's Jacket \| Industrial Chronosphere \| Lightning \| Overclock [Paralysis (4), Speedster (4)] Damage (2), Damage X (6), Slow (4), Blink (4), Restrain (4), Minor Heal (4), Heal (16), Quicken (0), AoE (2) DAMAGE: C \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 PHYSICAL: D \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 750</s> <\|message\|>Klava Pavlova 22 \| Female \| Freelancers \| Meltwater Spring Moya-no-Yume \| Dagger \| Physical \| Frosted Sheen Impermanence of Spring Snow \| Boreas's Caress Glacial Stream \| Aqua \| Rime Rose [Freeze, Slick] Damage, Restrain, Push, Extend, Construction, Craft, Mark, Blink, Bend DAMAGE: D \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: E \| 750 PHYSICAL: E\| ARCANE: B \| CHAOS: C \| 678 @The World@Ponn "A shot sounds lovely," Klava chimed, leaning over to swipe a bottle of gin and orange juice from behind the counter. She filled up her own shot glass with it until it was up to the very brim, and then downed it in one go. Lovely stuff. One had to fill their bellies up with fire before fighting a pyromaniac, after all. She let out a sigh, then extended a hand out to her partners-in-crime. "Won't have time for timing it properly, so we'll just go in as soon as possible." Her gaze turned to Gale expectantly, waiting for the Flight spell to be passed over. If it didn't though, it was no big deal. "Let's rock n roll this shit up." The bouncers were coming soon, but Klava herself had already hopped off the stool, readying herself for a quick, magically-assisted exit-ascent-enter. Upon reflection, it may have been a smarter idea to have talked all this out before entering the nightclub, but hey, it was all good. What was another fire at a nightclub, if not panic at the disco?</s> <\|message\|>Jacqueline Leroux Jacqueline Leroux Mention: @Majoras End --- --- "Hm, oh, I guess that was too much for a civilian," Jacqueline muttered to herself when it became clear the receptionist lady had no clue what she was talking about. Somewhat louder, she clarified, "Let's just say we're government agents, part of a branch specialized for detaining dangerous individuals." Then the power cut off. Jacqueline tensed, and didn't quite loosen up when the emergency power kicked in. She looked up, where a camera was now clear to their sight. "So…something on that computer they didn't want us to see, or just that confident that they want us to know they're watching," she speculated. She nodded when Su made it clear she'd go scout. "Got it," she agreed. When she and Fable were left alone, she briefly turned to the boy. "I'll be right back. You can check if there are any relevant physical files, I guess." Then, she escorted the captive woman outside. At the entrance to the clinic, she freed her from the zip-ties, but didn't yet release the grip she had on her. "Okay, now, just listen calmly. If you fear for your safety, or want to have a debriefing on this situation, there are two police officers in an unmarked car not too far away. You just have to take this street here, then turn left there…" she described the shortest path the woman would have to take to get to the car, and what the vehicle looked like, including its license number. "Tell them Leroux sent you, and they'll be able to deal with you. This is just a suggestion though – you are also free to go home or wherever else you want. Just don't interfere with out work at the clinic," she advised. With that, she gave the woman a light pat, headed back inside, and closed the front door behind her. Then, she returned to the receptionist's office, where she expected to rejoin Fable. To the child esper, she said, "Alright, that's dealt with. Unless there's anything you wanted to finish up here, or if you've a report on new findings, we should follow Breacher asap." Once she got his response, she'd lead their way down the hall, Havoc raised, on the lookout both for Breacher and for any potential trouble. --- --- 28 \| Female \| Gemini Agents \| Iron Dust Havoc \| Great Axe \| Arcane \| Pry Eternal Knight \| Perfectly polished Forged Arsenal \| Earth/Metal \| Breakthrough [Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), AoE (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Zone (4), Pull (2), Restrain (4), Blink (4) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: D \|750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 750</s>	<\|message\|>Finnegan Vanhorn, though he'd never disclose his real name easily. He usually goes by Fable, or his alias as the Timekeeper. (...Or TK if it's too complicated. He won't mind.) "We're not gonna have to fight through samurai, are we??" Current Location: The Aspiria Refuge, Front Desk 13 \| Male \| Gemini \| Clockwork Soldier Aeterna \| Sword \| Physical \| Swift and Keen Clockwork Jacket \| Industrial Chronosphere \| Lightning \| Overclock [Paralysis (4), Speedster (4)] Damage (2), Damage X (6), Slow (4), Blink (4), Restrain (4), Minor Heal (4), Heal (16), Quicken (0), AoE (2) DAMAGE: C \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 750 "Nothing, nothing, she looks clear to me!" He called out. At a quick glance, he'd guess she was doing some last minute bookkeeping as the last one to leave. And judging by how overwhelmed the receptionist was reacting, she probably was innocent. That or the doc didn't keep her in the know about things. Poor lady. Fable looked back at the computer, there had to be more that he could find. "I'll see if there's anything el-" Before he could search any further, the power cut off. The younger agent tensed up, his hands left hovering over the keyboard. Three seconds. Three seconds that felt too long for the emergency power to activate. Leroux didn't relax yet, and neither did he. All of them turned their heads towards a camera they failed to notice before. They were being watched. With Breacher scouting on ahead, Leroux went to escort the receptionist out. That left the Timekeeper to search through the rest of the desk. Physical files that could hopefully be of use to them. He was tempted to try and reactivate the computer with a melody, or knock out that stupid camera, but he didn't want to waste energy before they faced anything worse. That, and there was a chance he could also break the computer in his attempt. Eh, whatever. If he did find anything of importance, he can tell Jacqueline as they regrouped with Breacher. The robotic esper walked close behind her, ever on his guard.</s>
<\|description\|>Finnegan Vanhorn, though he'd never disclose his real name easily. He usually goes by Fable, or his alias as the Timekeeper. (...Or TK if it's too complicated. He won't mind.) AGE: 13 SEX: Male APPEARANCE: Leaning more towards the short side, Fable's usual appearance is nothing remarkable. Brown fluffy hair paired with matching brown eyes, he comes off as stoic. Though that could be cause he's usually quiet. Despite that, he surprisingly dresses well for someone who prioritizes comfort. Transformed, Fable's appearance takes on a more steampunkish aesthetic. A red jacked paired with a corset, accented with different metals shaped like gears make him look like a mechanic. Though that's not the kicker. As an Esper, part of his body turn mechanical, though it's hard to tell at first glance. His eyes also take on a more golden color in this form. GRIMIORE: A silver pocketwatch. Appears to be antique. INSTRUMENT: Aeterna Fable's rapier. Nothing too noteworthy about it, but it gets work done. GRADE: Silver KEYWORD: Sword DAMAGE TYPE: Physical DAMAGE: C SPEED: C SENTINEL: D SPECIAL: Swift and Keen: If Fable has successfully attacked someone this round and has avoided taking damage as well, he gets a six second speed buff on the next round. STYLE: Clocksmith's Jacket It's a nice one isn't it? As mentioned above, Fable dons the fancy jacket in his Esper form. GRADE: Silver PHYSICAL: D ARCANE: C CHAOS: D SPECIAL: Industrial: Arcane defense increases +1 Rank against lightning based attacks. GENRE: Chronosphere Fable's magic, though leaning a bit away from offensive movesets, revolves around the concept of time. GRADE: Silver ELEMENT: Lightning NOTES: [Paralysis (4), Speedster (4)] Damage (2), Damage X (6), Slow (4), Blink (4), Restrain (4), Minor Heal (4), Heal (16), Quicken (0), AoE (2) SPECIAL: Overclock: Of course being part machine temporarily does have some perks. Casting Speedster on himself increases Damage by +1 Rank. LEITMOTIF: Clockwork Soldier Given the nature of his transformed state, Fable is essentially turned into a clockwork cyborg. GRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: The interior of Fable's transformed body is made up of gears. BACKUP: Eddy For a bit of good luck, Mary has given Fable their other puppet to help him in combat. [Bronze Beam][Summon][Enhance][Powerful] SPECIAL: Eddy seems rather fond of the boy, wonder where he gets it from. PR: Pistol, Medical Supplies Sometimes you can't rely on your esper form alone. GRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: Fable's PR equipment carries the same theme as the rest of his transformed self. Kind of charming. FACTION: Gemini Agents TRIVIA: He doesn't really talk about himself much. But word on the grapevine is that Fable is the youngest member of one of the more wealthy families in Pax Septimus. His family was often busy, sometimes he was too. The only one of them he usually clung to was his older sister. And even then she'd have more important matters to attend to. Sure, such a life could be concidered lucky, but to Fable, it felt...unsatisfying. Not to mention frustrating at times. He eventually developed a habit of slipping away unnoticed, going out to wander through the city and do what he wanted for a change. Of course the crime rate was something Fable kept in mind, he learned to be careful with wandering off too far. Though the one thing he didn't learn about? What to do about a monster attack. Apparently, finding himself lost one day, Fable was unfortunate enough to stumble onto one such monster. A shadowy apparition-like being, indecipherable. Frightened, he tried to quietly get away before the monster noticed him. Sadly, something had to happen. The littlest of sounds were able to attract it's attention. He had to run. Fable ended up hiding in an abandoned clock shop, taking a moment of respite. He just had to wait until the shade gave up and left, or chose a different target to kill. It managed to follow him inside, but the ticking of the remaining clocks distracted it enough to buy Fable some time. Though what could he do? There was nothing to fight it off with, and running again could alert it too. Then something caught the boy's eye. A silver sheen near the corner of the store. He snuck over and grabbed it. A silver pocketwatch. Though antique, it appeared to be in mint condition. Before Fable knew it, the unassuming trinket had given him just the power he needed to rid himself of his little stalker. Flashes of light could be seen from outside the shop like a contained storm; though there was no rain or thunder, and Fable walked away without a scratch and with a goal in mind. He had to learn more about espers and monsters. Even if he eventually joined G.E.M.I.N.I., his neutral stance on Maverick Alternate hasn't changed. But he's aware that they're his occupation's enemy, and he won't let them stop him or his allies from getting their job done. Hopefully his new job will be a big help in his own investigations. But still, what of his family? Whether they're entrepreneurs to important buisnesses, or one of the mafia factions that taint the city, they'll have to catch onto his dissapearing act at some point. Right?13 \| Male \| Gemini \| Clockwork Soldier Aeterna \| Sword \| Physical \| Swift and Keen Clocksmith's Jacket \| Industrial Chronosphere \| Lightning \| Overclock [Paralysis (4), Speedster (4)] Damage (2), Damage X (6), Slow (4), Blink (4), Restrain (4), Minor Heal (4), Heal (16), Quicken (0), AoE (2) DAMAGE: C \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 PHYSICAL: D \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 750</s> <\|message\|>Marrie Knight Marrie Knight Marrie had enough time to recover from casting Flight by the time she and Orion reached the door, which was probably a life saver. In preparation of a battle, she lengthened the chains on Apexer Predator while it was hidden in her sleeve to about 15 feet, careful to keep it all hidden and off the ground. When the door opened she saw Sofron holding a gun of some time, she didn't think, she just reacted. She cast a melody to hopefully save her life at the same time that she rushed at the man and swung out with her instrument, swinging it to try to wrap around and embed itself into to enemy esper. [Silver Self - Warm: Storm] As she swung her right arm around with her dagger flying in an arc towards Sofron, she was enveloped in a blistering wind that would hopefully keep away the gunfire and ran head-first towards him. She instinctively retracted her instrument's chains slowly, trying to compensate for closing the distance between her and her target. --- 19 \| Female \| Freelancer \| Misty Steps Apexer Predator \| Dagger \| Physical \| Heavenly Chain Wind-Carved Glacier \| Masking Step of the Hurricane \| Wind \| Riding the Currents [Storm (4), Flight (6)] Damage X (6), Multi-Cast (4), Blink (4), Magic Sense (6), Heal (16), Portal (8), Rain (2), Scatter (2), Bounce (2) DAMAGE: C \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: C \| 750 [Silver Touch - Flight: -72 [Silver Self - Warm: Storm: -72 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 606</s> <\|message\|>Jacqueline Leroux Jacqueline Leroux Jacqueline left the receptionist outside, then returned to Fable. She looked over the blueprint he'd found. It seemed simple enough, and was accurate up to the elevator. There, its existence proved the building did indeed have a basement. Jacqueline wasn't surprised. At Breacher's suggestion, she shook her head. "I don't think we should split up. Anywhere we go might be traps, but especially downstairs. And…going against Arzendale by myself wasn't the best, so. I'd rather not repeat that," she grimaced as she said so. Maybe she was too worried for nothing, or maybe going together was actually playing into the doctor's hand, but scouting an unknown location – a basement where she suspected all those thralls might be being kept – didn't seem particularly safe. "Or, if you really wanna, we need a plan how to quickly go down after you if we need to," she added. --- --- 28 \| Female \| Gemini Agents \| Iron Dust Havoc \| Great Axe \| Arcane \| Pry Eternal Knight \| Perfectly polished Forged Arsenal \| Earth/Metal \| Breakthrough [Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), AoE (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Zone (4), Pull (2), Restrain (4), Blink (4) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: D \|750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 750</s>	<\|message\|>Finnegan Vanhorn, though he'd never disclose his real name easily. He usually goes by Fable, or his alias as the Timekeeper. (...Or TK if it's too complicated. He won't mind.) "Sometimes, I do not have witty thought quotes." Current Location: The Aspiria Refuge, Corridor 13 \| Male \| Gemini \| Clockwork Soldier Aeterna \| Sword \| Physical \| Swift and Keen Clockwork Jacket \| Industrial Chronosphere \| Lightning \| Overclock [Paralysis (4), Speedster (4)] Damage (2), Damage X (6), Slow (4), Blink (4), Restrain (4), Minor Heal (4), Heal (16), Quicken (0), AoE (2) DAMAGE: C \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 750 Searching through the physical files almost had nothing of value. While there was just more buisness mumbo-jumbo he didn't have time to sort through, there was something that caught his eye. Blueprints. Not really detailed but good enough to use as a map. When Leroux regrouped with Fable, he simply passed it over to her to hold, which then was passed to Breacher. Either the map was that barebones, or the elevator they found was a recent renovation. At the suggestion of Breacher scouting ahead again, the boy slightly frowned. "Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, if the bastard currently watching us can stop the elevator too..." He softly voiced his concern, just in case whoever was watching them through the camera could hear them. Atleast Jacqueline agreed this might go sideways. "Well I can always try and get some temporary power running just in case. But I haven't tried doing something like that yet, so I dunno if it'll work." The Timekeeper suggested.</s>
<\|description\|>Jacqueline Leroux AGE: 28 SEX: Female APPEARANCE: A lithe, pale woman standing at 164 centimeters (5'4) with slight curves and little muscle definition. She has an oval shaped face with a sharp chin, straight nose, and murky green eyes. Her raven hair is cut in a straight line and above her shoulders. It is long enough to tie into a short ponytail, however. She has a slightly messy fringe that falls into her eyes, which doesn't seem to bother her. Jay prefers wearing business suits; black trousers, jackets, and even cravats. She will sometimes spruce up with colourful and/or patterned dress shirts or cufflinks, however. She wears a silver wristwatch on her left, and occasionally accessorizes with broaches or earrings. Link to the Artist In her esper form, her complexion becomes outright greyish, and her hair is longer and wilder. Her esper outfit is a fancy full plate armour. Link to the Artist GRIMIORE: An engraved silver ring. She wears it on her right pinky. INSTRUMENT: Havoc A metal war pick with a simple design but some tasteful and subtle engravings. Its handle is about a meter and a half (5 feet) in length. The head is a blunt hammer on one side and a sharp, slightly curved spike on the other. The spike part is 13 cm (5 inches) long, while its width peters off from 6 centimeters at its widest to half a centimeter at its narrowest. GRADE: Silver KEYWORD: Great Axe DAMAGE TYPE: Arcane DAMAGE: B SPEED: D SENTINEL: D SPECIAL: Pry. When the spike end is hooked into or against an object or part of an object (such as an opponent's shield, a door…), the user can pry that object free of wherever it's stuck or from whomever holds it as long as that thing's or person's sentinel rank isn't higher than D. STYLE: Eternal Knight Her whole body changes hue, giving her an ash-gray, silvery complexion. There are some splotches of a darker, tarnished gray here and there – most notably around her eyes – and a few flecks of a near-white scattered around. Her hair is now a steely black, while her fingernails are a dull aluminum. Her irises are similarly leaden, while her pupils glint a bright red. Jacqueline becomes attired in full steel plate armour, which is finely engraved. Link to the Artist Grade: Bronze PHYSICAL: E ARCANE: C CHAOS: D SPECIAL: Perfectly polished. The armour is so speckless, you may even catch your own reflection in it. GENRE: Forged Arsenal Everything from rough chunks of metal to finer constructions such as bullets, shivs, spheres, chains, etc. GRADE: Silver ELEMENT: Earth/Metal NOTES: [Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), AoE (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Zone (4), Pull (2), Restrain (4), Blink (4) SPECIAL: Breakthrough. If a target of Jacqueline's melody has their defenses enhanced, her melody gains a free rank-up. LEITMOTIF: Iron Dust A cloud of small metal particles surrounds her. They do not obstruct her vision, nor do they aid her or hinder others in any way. GRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: The particles swirl around her; gently swaying while not in combat, and buzzing angrily when she is. BACKUP: Lifeblood Crystal A small blood gem created by Lada. Shatters upon use. A creeping crimson vein-esque pattern forms upon Jacqueline's esper form, both her body and her armour. GRADE: Silver BACKUP MELODY: [Bronze Self][Stabilize][Enhance][Heal][Delay][Reflect] SPECIAL: There is power in blood. This backup can draw upon nearby human blood (injured enemy, fresh body) the very moment it is used to empower the melody, granting it a rank-up. PR: Unchivalrous Some extra stuff that hardly fits the 'knightly' theme, but then again, Jacqueline isn't one to sweat the details. Survival is survival. GRADE: Bronze GEAR: Pistol, Molotov SPECIAL: The gun is metal-silver and engraved, the Molotov is in an elegant dark gray glass bottle and produces haunting white flames. FACTION: Gemini Agents TRIVIA: Jacqueline is ambitious and driven, always striving for something. While no-nonsense, professional, and assertive in a working environment, she is much more casual in her free time. She teases and snarks, and is more receptive to humour and such. Though, if an idiot gets on her nerves, she'll certainly let them have their piece. Otherwise, she is a faithful adherent of the 'work hard, play hard' adage, and often indulges in alcohol at bars – in moderation, now that she's so close to her 30s. She enjoys adventures – such as travelling, discovering new eateries and other locales – and a tad of a thrill seeker. Bungee-jumping, skydiving, water surfing…if it's a new and exciting experience, she'll likely go for it. This trait has also made her quite the enthusiastic, even bloodthirsty monster-hunter. Born to a banker and university professor, Jacqueline was firmly in the upper middle class since birth. As the only daughter, she faced strict guidance and high expectations. She fulfilled them all, and due to some good friends, avoided the fate of being too stifled or too much of a perfectionist. She excelled academically, and went on to study business. She completed part of her education back in France, but moved to USA for her master's. Not long after graduating, she found a job, and was looking to permanently settle there for a while. She became an esper fairly recently. Jacqueline had been visiting her parents and some friends back home. While on a jaunt around town, she was inexplicably drawn to a pawn shop. There, a fairly plain silver ring stood out to her for some reason, and she purchased it. Upon putting it on, she immediately gained knowledge of what she was now capable of. It was certainly a strange event, but an exhilarating one. A few days after returning home, she had another chance encounter, in which she used her powers properly for the first time. She'd been at a small eatery in the late evening, and upon leaving the establishment, heard a strange noise an alley or so away. Leaving to investigate, she found a monstrous racoon the size of a large dog crouched over a person, ready to attack. Both Jay and the monster were startled. The monster acted first, but Jacqueline knew what to do – she transformed into her esper form, and killed the thing. She'd been too preoccupied with what had happened to think of the possible consequences. When she was contacted not a week later by Gemini Agents, however, she learned that apparently despite the time of day and location, the fact that she'd saved a person and was an esper had been discovered. Having some things explained to her, she agreed for an official transferal to their establishment. Now, she works and trains as a government agent and monster slayer. --- --- 28 \| Female \| Gemini Agents \| Iron Dust Havoc \| Great Axe \| Arcane \| Pry Eternal Knight \| Perfectly polished Forged Arsenal \| Earth/Metal \| Breakthrough [Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), AoE (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Zone (4), Pull (2), Restrain (4), Blink (4) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: D \|750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 750</s> <\|message\|>Regina Smith, The Huntress Regina Smith — The Huntress "That was a loud entrance. I thought we were going to be stealthier." A blonde woman appeared from the shadows. She was, in many ways, the complete opposite of the two espers. Her outfit was far less flashy, consisting only of a white sleeveless t-shirt under a green faded jacket and a simple black skirt that reached down her upper thighs. "Name's the Huntress. I'm here as a Freelancer." She didn't bother offering her hand. No sense in being all friendly to espers from the Maverick. Ideologically speaking, she was closer to GEMINI, believing that all monsters should die and disappear from this earth. And besides, the outrageous way these two dressed… it didn't help her prejudice in the slightest. To be honest, she only took this job over the GEMINI one because she was uncomfortable working with an organization so close to the authorities. She was technically a criminal as she used to be a hunter of protected animals before joining the Freelancers. "I am an expert at stealth and long-range combat. So if you would accommodate that fact to your entry plan, I would be most obliged." She shifted her glance to the abandoned warehouse. "The cultists are in there, right? Do you have any info on their numbers?" She glanced back at the two. --- 18 \| Female \| Freelancer \| A Hunter's Grace A Hunter's Bow \| Bow \| Arcane \| Lightweight A Hunter's Jacket \| Down To Earth A Hunter's Tools \| Nature \| Long Claws Damage X (6), Blink (4), Portal (8), Summon (4), AoE (2), Piercing (2), [Poison (2), Transform (2)] DAMAGE: C \| SPEED: E \| SENTINEL: D \| 500 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 500</s> <\|message\|>Aria Sato, The Protector ARIA: THE PROTECTOR \| PSPD #11 Reporting to: G.E.M.I.N.I. Agents The teacher waved her last remaining student goodbye and watched him be driven off before shifting her attention to the Shimr app. A quick swipe and she was all set. With hands clasped tight around her keychain, she muttered a small prayer in her native tongue before her body dispersed into light, transforming into... ...a massive 8'0" suit of pure, leaden armor. On its back rested a massive shield that seemed to add on more to the giant suit's weight, but it seemed to not mind. Each of its weighted steps sounded heavily throughout the area, accompanied by a little jingle as the keychain attached to its cuirass shook. It showed up at the given assembly area stated in the app a little earlier than the meetup time. Tardiness was a no-no, after all. A slight whirring noise came as its metal head rotated left to right to scan the area. It was not hard for it to spot the three women standing together. One was heavily plated in armor, much like itself. It admired her shield, giving her an internal thumbs-up. The other seemed to have green hair- this, it was sure the little students would love to see. The third seemed apprehensive but had an air of seriousness about her, especially taking into account the rifle in her arms. The fourth stood relaxed, in a shiny, seemingly well-maintained suit of armor. The Protector hauled itself to the group, eager to meet its teammates. It towered over the trio and greeted politely: "Good evening, everyone. I am Protector." A deep, gravelly voice rumbled from within the confines of the helmeted suit of armor. "And you?" --- 20 \| Female \| The Freelancers \| Guardian Protector's Treaty \| Spear, Shield \| Arcane \| Aegis Protector's Stronghold \| Shelter Protector's Mandate \| Gravity \| Fortification [Weightless (4), Suspend X (4)], Blink (4), Restrain (4), Pull (2), AoE (2), Powerful (0), Shield (4) DAMAGE: D \| SPEED: E \| SENTINEL: B \| 500 PHYSICAL: D \| ARCANE: E \| CHAOS: D \| 500</s>	<\|message\|>Jacqueline Leroux She was being driven to the precinct in what was basically a giant metal cage, and it was utterly silent. Jacqueline didn't show it, but she was bored. The only silver lining was that her esper outfit didn't make her all the more uncomfortable, despite logic dictating that wearing full plate should. Jay was glad to arrive at the location, because at least it got her out of the awkward, suffocating enclosed space. She surveyed the surroundings, hoping to catch signs of trouble – but there was nothing on the outside. She stood guard while she waited, gaze perfunctorily wandering here and there, just in case someone or something dangerous showed up. Jacqueline noted one of her co-workers, Valkyrie was as serious as ever. Not that she herself was lax, but Jay had recognized from working alongside her that the other woman took their duty very personally. She couldn't help but wonder if she could keep up being so stiff and inflexible even several years down the line. Should just worry about myself. Jacqueline let out a slightly longer exhale, then moved closer to where conversation between Breacher and Blinky ensued. "A few freelancers, huh. Don't have nothing against them, but it's annoying how we've no clue how many'll show up till they do. Oh, well." She ignored the part about Breacher's daughter, as she wasn't really interested. But she did pitch in at the end. "To a good one," she said simply. She shifted her war pick to her left, and offered her right to Blinky and Breacher. She didn't bother with Valkyrie, since she either wasn't interested or that weapon really was too cumbersome. A moment passed, and all was quiet again. "So, chance of monster involvement?" she asked idly. However, her tone indicated she didn't expect anything non-human this time. It wasn't long till their first Freelancer helper arrived. They were a giant suited-up soldier, and drew attention from far away. "Evenin'. Just call me Leroux. Pleasure to meet you," Jay introduced herself with a nod.</s>
<\|description\|>Jacqueline Leroux AGE: 28 SEX: Female APPEARANCE: A lithe, pale woman standing at 164 centimeters (5'4) with slight curves and little muscle definition. She has an oval shaped face with a sharp chin, straight nose, and murky green eyes. Her raven hair is cut in a straight line and above her shoulders. It is long enough to tie into a short ponytail, however. She has a slightly messy fringe that falls into her eyes, which doesn't seem to bother her. Jay prefers wearing business suits; black trousers, jackets, and even cravats. She will sometimes spruce up with colourful and/or patterned dress shirts or cufflinks, however. She wears a silver wristwatch on her left, and occasionally accessorizes with broaches or earrings. Link to the Artist In her esper form, her complexion becomes outright greyish, and her hair is longer and wilder. Her esper outfit is a fancy full plate armour. Link to the Artist GRIMIORE: An engraved silver ring. She wears it on her right pinky. INSTRUMENT: Havoc A metal war pick with a simple design but some tasteful and subtle engravings. Its handle is about a meter and a half (5 feet) in length. The head is a blunt hammer on one side and a sharp, slightly curved spike on the other. The spike part is 13 cm (5 inches) long, while its width peters off from 6 centimeters at its widest to half a centimeter at its narrowest. GRADE: Silver KEYWORD: Great Axe DAMAGE TYPE: Arcane DAMAGE: B SPEED: D SENTINEL: D SPECIAL: Pry. When the spike end is hooked into or against an object or part of an object (such as an opponent's shield, a door…), the user can pry that object free of wherever it's stuck or from whomever holds it as long as that thing's or person's sentinel rank isn't higher than D. STYLE: Eternal Knight Her whole body changes hue, giving her an ash-gray, silvery complexion. There are some splotches of a darker, tarnished gray here and there – most notably around her eyes – and a few flecks of a near-white scattered around. Her hair is now a steely black, while her fingernails are a dull aluminum. Her irises are similarly leaden, while her pupils glint a bright red. Jacqueline becomes attired in full steel plate armour, which is finely engraved. Link to the Artist Grade: Bronze PHYSICAL: E ARCANE: C CHAOS: D SPECIAL: Perfectly polished. The armour is so speckless, you may even catch your own reflection in it. GENRE: Forged Arsenal Everything from rough chunks of metal to finer constructions such as bullets, shivs, spheres, chains, etc. GRADE: Silver ELEMENT: Earth/Metal NOTES: [Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), AoE (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Zone (4), Pull (2), Restrain (4), Blink (4) SPECIAL: Breakthrough. If a target of Jacqueline's melody has their defenses enhanced, her melody gains a free rank-up. LEITMOTIF: Iron Dust A cloud of small metal particles surrounds her. They do not obstruct her vision, nor do they aid her or hinder others in any way. GRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: The particles swirl around her; gently swaying while not in combat, and buzzing angrily when she is. BACKUP: Lifeblood Crystal A small blood gem created by Lada. Shatters upon use. A creeping crimson vein-esque pattern forms upon Jacqueline's esper form, both her body and her armour. GRADE: Silver BACKUP MELODY: [Bronze Self][Stabilize][Enhance][Heal][Delay][Reflect] SPECIAL: There is power in blood. This backup can draw upon nearby human blood (injured enemy, fresh body) the very moment it is used to empower the melody, granting it a rank-up. PR: Unchivalrous Some extra stuff that hardly fits the 'knightly' theme, but then again, Jacqueline isn't one to sweat the details. Survival is survival. GRADE: Bronze GEAR: Pistol, Molotov SPECIAL: The gun is metal-silver and engraved, the Molotov is in an elegant dark gray glass bottle and produces haunting white flames. FACTION: Gemini Agents TRIVIA: Jacqueline is ambitious and driven, always striving for something. While no-nonsense, professional, and assertive in a working environment, she is much more casual in her free time. She teases and snarks, and is more receptive to humour and such. Though, if an idiot gets on her nerves, she'll certainly let them have their piece. Otherwise, she is a faithful adherent of the 'work hard, play hard' adage, and often indulges in alcohol at bars – in moderation, now that she's so close to her 30s. She enjoys adventures – such as travelling, discovering new eateries and other locales – and a tad of a thrill seeker. Bungee-jumping, skydiving, water surfing…if it's a new and exciting experience, she'll likely go for it. This trait has also made her quite the enthusiastic, even bloodthirsty monster-hunter. Born to a banker and university professor, Jacqueline was firmly in the upper middle class since birth. As the only daughter, she faced strict guidance and high expectations. She fulfilled them all, and due to some good friends, avoided the fate of being too stifled or too much of a perfectionist. She excelled academically, and went on to study business. She completed part of her education back in France, but moved to USA for her master's. Not long after graduating, she found a job, and was looking to permanently settle there for a while. She became an esper fairly recently. Jacqueline had been visiting her parents and some friends back home. While on a jaunt around town, she was inexplicably drawn to a pawn shop. There, a fairly plain silver ring stood out to her for some reason, and she purchased it. Upon putting it on, she immediately gained knowledge of what she was now capable of. It was certainly a strange event, but an exhilarating one. A few days after returning home, she had another chance encounter, in which she used her powers properly for the first time. She'd been at a small eatery in the late evening, and upon leaving the establishment, heard a strange noise an alley or so away. Leaving to investigate, she found a monstrous racoon the size of a large dog crouched over a person, ready to attack. Both Jay and the monster were startled. The monster acted first, but Jacqueline knew what to do – she transformed into her esper form, and killed the thing. She'd been too preoccupied with what had happened to think of the possible consequences. When she was contacted not a week later by Gemini Agents, however, she learned that apparently despite the time of day and location, the fact that she'd saved a person and was an esper had been discovered. Having some things explained to her, she agreed for an official transferal to their establishment. Now, she works and trains as a government agent and monster slayer. --- --- 28 \| Female \| Gemini Agents \| Iron Dust Havoc \| Great Axe \| Arcane \| Pry Eternal Knight \| Perfectly polished Forged Arsenal \| Earth/Metal \| Breakthrough [Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), AoE (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Zone (4), Pull (2), Restrain (4), Blink (4) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: D \|750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 750</s> <\|message\|>Klava Pavlova 22 \| Female \| Freelancers \| Meltwater Spring Moya-no-Yume \| Dagger \| Physical \| Frosted Sheen Snowdrop Vestige \| Sangfroid Convention Glacial Stream \| Aqua \| Rime Rose [Freeze, Cold Insulation] Damage X, Restrain, Dispel, Rain, Trap, Enhance, Trigger, Blink, Powerful DAMAGE: D \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: E \| 750 [Bronze Projectile][Blink] = -40 Mana PHYSICAL: E\| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 522 @BrokenPromise@OwO@FamishedPants Between the gunfire of the remaining cronies and the grandstanding of the Esper (who would've thought? Should've stabbed the fellow before he transformed), it was almost a miracle that Klava was untouched. It was the benefit, perhaps, of being the last to enter the staircase, and that same benefit was what keened her ears to the conversation of two others. "The Cobra Gang truly is made up of snakes, huh?" she murmured. An enclosed staircase was the bane of any Blinker, while the voices of two didn't mean that there wouldn't be more out there with them. If it was just Adder and Smarter-Dude? Klava figured her chances were good enough if she acted quick. But Adder, Smarter-Dude, and a bunch of quiet fellows? Yeah, she wasn't Protector, and she wasn't really into getting molested by Apollo either. So when the tear gas grenade bounced up, Klava, with athletic grace and reactions sparked by nights watching action movies where the heroes always responded in time to toss a grenade away, whipped off one of the sashes of her outfit and flung her other hand back, a ball of snow shooting out over the heads of the clashing Protector and Mamba. In the instant before she was yoinked back by her own Blink spell, she caught the tear gas dispenser in her sash and brought it with her. The fiery heat surged up against the protective charms of her ritual vestments, granting her only four seconds to act, but that was nothing compared to having to react to a tennis serve. Rotating her hips and whipping out her sash, she slung the tear gas grenade at Sofron, a trail of chemical irritants in its wake. That same momentum was what jump-started Klava's own dash through the flaming zone, clearing it with time to spare as she sought to engage the more experienced esper in hand-to-hand, knife-to-man. Sure, if things kept up for more than a couple seconds, both of them would be choking on tear gas, but Klava had one clear advantage in that regard. Her leitmotif provided free eye washes.</s> <\|message\|>Apollo Greit Apollo Greit "On your own this time." He yelled to the Protector. He wasn't going to be shocked again. That shit sucked. So long as that armoured person wasn't also an esper, it would probably be fine to let the spear user take care of it on their own. She was definitely after him. Maybe that'd give the protector a free cheap shot if they were so distracted with him. With his skin roasting, Apollo certainly made a choice. As an esper, he was certainly fast enough to dash through the hot zone. It didn't seem too large of an area. Plus, it wasn't like there was some large magical impediment like they had all been doing. With his own body becoming covered by a saintly glow, he sprinted down the hall. However, he only had done so for a brief period of time. He made a quick turn as he suddenly aimed for a window instead. With a great crash, he leapt out. This window wasn't chosen at random, of course. No, he was originally going to run straight at the fire man. A little wire caught his eye, however. Once through the window, he grabbed the wire with his open hand. He swung like a fictional character with a great kick off the wall. Then, as he approached a window closer and adjacent to the servant, he crashed through that window like a bat out of hell. Sure, his body was covered in cuts, scratches, and a little bit of blood from that escapade. He'd recover, though. With the masked man shooting one of the mooks, the esper being assailed by the boss grindset bitch, and the protector hopefully dealing with Cattle McProd, Apollo ran at the final mook with his man catcher extended. This would probably stop a get down Mr. President moment. With the full force of his sprint, he collided the catch with the man's neck and refused to stop. The only thing that would stop this charge was the wall. --- 24 \| Male \| Freelancer \| Bastard Restraining Order \| Spear \| Physical \| Unenforceable Second Skin \| Regrowth God Complex \| Light \| Give Him Thanks [Reveal (2), Purity (4)], Heal (16), Stabilize (0), Purify (6), Reflect (4), Damage X(6), Powerful (0), Trap (0), AoE (2), Full Extend (4) DAMAGE: E \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 [Give Him Thanks] - +16 [Silver Self][Reflect] -48 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 462</s>	<\|message\|>Jacqueline Leroux "I'll be fine when these bastards are down," Jacqueline quipped in response to Breacher's worried question. As expected, the gun and knife guys were there to stall for time. Rather than backup from more gangers, though, Rottweiler had managed to unearth an actual damned blood mage. Then, the man started spouting off about the mage, how he wanted to free her, and turned to crime because of it, yadda yadda yadda. "Yeah, I don't think so," Jacqueline denied the request to let a criminal blood mage, same as Breacher had. When Rottweiler charged her with a metal detector of all things. Jacqueline did notice his other weapons, but didn't have the time to worry about whether he was going to use them later on or not. She swung her war pick, aiming to get it tangled with the lover-boy's unconventional weapon. She was more than aware that whether she disarmed him fast enough or not, she'd have to get out of range of his no doubt superior techniques swiftly. Preparing to do so, she lifted a finger from her weapon mid-swing, aiming a melody at Rottweiler's chest. Flecks of rust gathered around her finger, then shot in a straight line towards her enemy. --- --- Havoc \| Great Axe \| Arcane \| Pry Eternal Knight \| Perfectly polished Forged Arsenal \| Earth/Metal \| Fissure [Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), Rain (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Shield (4) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: D \| 500 [Bronze Beam][Damage X] = - 72 Mana PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 324</s>
<\|description\|>Jacqueline Leroux AGE: 28 SEX: Female APPEARANCE: A lithe, pale woman standing at 164 centimeters (5'4) with slight curves and little muscle definition. She has an oval shaped face with a sharp chin, straight nose, and murky green eyes. Her raven hair is cut in a straight line and above her shoulders. It is long enough to tie into a short ponytail, however. She has a slightly messy fringe that falls into her eyes, which doesn't seem to bother her. Jay prefers wearing business suits; black trousers, jackets, and even cravats. She will sometimes spruce up with colourful and/or patterned dress shirts or cufflinks, however. She wears a silver wristwatch on her left, and occasionally accessorizes with broaches or earrings. Link to the Artist In her esper form, her complexion becomes outright greyish, and her hair is longer and wilder. Her esper outfit is a fancy full plate armour. Link to the Artist GRIMIORE: An engraved silver ring. She wears it on her right pinky. INSTRUMENT: Havoc A metal war pick with a simple design but some tasteful and subtle engravings. Its handle is about a meter and a half (5 feet) in length. The head is a blunt hammer on one side and a sharp, slightly curved spike on the other. The spike part is 13 cm (5 inches) long, while its width peters off from 6 centimeters at its widest to half a centimeter at its narrowest. GRADE: Silver KEYWORD: Great Axe DAMAGE TYPE: Arcane DAMAGE: B SPEED: D SENTINEL: D SPECIAL: Pry. When the spike end is hooked into or against an object or part of an object (such as an opponent's shield, a door…), the user can pry that object free of wherever it's stuck or from whomever holds it as long as that thing's or person's sentinel rank isn't higher than D. STYLE: Eternal Knight Her whole body changes hue, giving her an ash-gray, silvery complexion. There are some splotches of a darker, tarnished gray here and there – most notably around her eyes – and a few flecks of a near-white scattered around. Her hair is now a steely black, while her fingernails are a dull aluminum. Her irises are similarly leaden, while her pupils glint a bright red. Jacqueline becomes attired in full steel plate armour, which is finely engraved. Link to the Artist Grade: Bronze PHYSICAL: E ARCANE: C CHAOS: D SPECIAL: Perfectly polished. The armour is so speckless, you may even catch your own reflection in it. GENRE: Forged Arsenal Everything from rough chunks of metal to finer constructions such as bullets, shivs, spheres, chains, etc. GRADE: Silver ELEMENT: Earth/Metal NOTES: [Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), AoE (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Zone (4), Pull (2), Restrain (4), Blink (4) SPECIAL: Breakthrough. If a target of Jacqueline's melody has their defenses enhanced, her melody gains a free rank-up. LEITMOTIF: Iron Dust A cloud of small metal particles surrounds her. They do not obstruct her vision, nor do they aid her or hinder others in any way. GRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: The particles swirl around her; gently swaying while not in combat, and buzzing angrily when she is. BACKUP: Lifeblood Crystal A small blood gem created by Lada. Shatters upon use. A creeping crimson vein-esque pattern forms upon Jacqueline's esper form, both her body and her armour. GRADE: Silver BACKUP MELODY: [Bronze Self][Stabilize][Enhance][Heal][Delay][Reflect] SPECIAL: There is power in blood. This backup can draw upon nearby human blood (injured enemy, fresh body) the very moment it is used to empower the melody, granting it a rank-up. PR: Unchivalrous Some extra stuff that hardly fits the 'knightly' theme, but then again, Jacqueline isn't one to sweat the details. Survival is survival. GRADE: Bronze GEAR: Pistol, Molotov SPECIAL: The gun is metal-silver and engraved, the Molotov is in an elegant dark gray glass bottle and produces haunting white flames. FACTION: Gemini Agents TRIVIA: Jacqueline is ambitious and driven, always striving for something. While no-nonsense, professional, and assertive in a working environment, she is much more casual in her free time. She teases and snarks, and is more receptive to humour and such. Though, if an idiot gets on her nerves, she'll certainly let them have their piece. Otherwise, she is a faithful adherent of the 'work hard, play hard' adage, and often indulges in alcohol at bars – in moderation, now that she's so close to her 30s. She enjoys adventures – such as travelling, discovering new eateries and other locales – and a tad of a thrill seeker. Bungee-jumping, skydiving, water surfing…if it's a new and exciting experience, she'll likely go for it. This trait has also made her quite the enthusiastic, even bloodthirsty monster-hunter. Born to a banker and university professor, Jacqueline was firmly in the upper middle class since birth. As the only daughter, she faced strict guidance and high expectations. She fulfilled them all, and due to some good friends, avoided the fate of being too stifled or too much of a perfectionist. She excelled academically, and went on to study business. She completed part of her education back in France, but moved to USA for her master's. Not long after graduating, she found a job, and was looking to permanently settle there for a while. She became an esper fairly recently. Jacqueline had been visiting her parents and some friends back home. While on a jaunt around town, she was inexplicably drawn to a pawn shop. There, a fairly plain silver ring stood out to her for some reason, and she purchased it. Upon putting it on, she immediately gained knowledge of what she was now capable of. It was certainly a strange event, but an exhilarating one. A few days after returning home, she had another chance encounter, in which she used her powers properly for the first time. She'd been at a small eatery in the late evening, and upon leaving the establishment, heard a strange noise an alley or so away. Leaving to investigate, she found a monstrous racoon the size of a large dog crouched over a person, ready to attack. Both Jay and the monster were startled. The monster acted first, but Jacqueline knew what to do – she transformed into her esper form, and killed the thing. She'd been too preoccupied with what had happened to think of the possible consequences. When she was contacted not a week later by Gemini Agents, however, she learned that apparently despite the time of day and location, the fact that she'd saved a person and was an esper had been discovered. Having some things explained to her, she agreed for an official transferal to their establishment. Now, she works and trains as a government agent and monster slayer. --- --- 28 \| Female \| Gemini Agents \| Iron Dust Havoc \| Great Axe \| Arcane \| Pry Eternal Knight \| Perfectly polished Forged Arsenal \| Earth/Metal \| Breakthrough [Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), AoE (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Zone (4), Pull (2), Restrain (4), Blink (4) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: D \|750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 750</s> <\|message\|>Finnegan Vanhorn, though he'd never disclose his real name easily. He usually goes by Fable, or his alias as the Timekeeper. (...Or TK if it's too complicated. He won't mind.) "Ribbit ribbit." Current Location: Precinct #11 13 \| Male \| Gemini \| Clockwork Soldier Aeterna \| Sword \| Physical \| Swift and Keen Clocksmith's Jacket \| Industrial Chronosphere \| Lightning \| Overclock Eddy \| Pistol, Medical Supplies [Paralysis (4), Speedster (4)] Damage (2), Damage X (6), Slow (4), Blink (4), Restrain (4), Minor Heal (4), Heal (16), Quicken (0), AoE (2) DAMAGE: C \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 [Bronze Projectile][Damage X][AoE]= - 96 MP PHYSICAL: D \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 622 "Just ignore her kid, you can do this!" The only one to respond between the Timekeeper and his puppet was Eddy, and even then he too choose to focus more on their plan. Luckily Finn's idea to lead Betty to the center of the roof managed to work, even if it meant the other agents couldn't help him. Here he could understand why though, even if it's still a dumbshit move to face her by himself like last time. But unlike last time, whatever he learned there could give him a leverage here. Like with Betty's defensive melody. He intended to make her waste it. And then there were frogs. Damnit, that thing's faster than expected! Gotta hurry this up! The boy's head snapped around to see the second spell was set in motion. Frogs both dead and alive started to spawn from the woodwork, and apparently bloodthirsty. Hopscotch don't fail me now. Finn had to maneuver around his newfound audience as they jumped at him, cause he was not looking forward to seeing what their corrosive bile could do to his outer shell. Unfortunate still that his adversary was still charging at him. Now, he did have an idea of how to take advantage of this. But it'd take precision, and more importantly, perfect timing. "Ally-oop!" Swift as he could, the Timekeeper flung a bolt at the floor below Betty. For a moment she'd probably assume he missed or hesitated, but he fully intended to have her caught inbetween the corrosive explosions of nearby frogs. If not to knock her down a peg, then at least to continue stalling her. He just had to keep at it, keep moving. Speed was one of his few virtues. Let's hope it'll last.</s> <\|message\|>Ashley Avenir, The Knight of Tomorrow Frogs were now falling from the roiling heavens along with the crimson rain, but Ashley was content to ignore them for the time being. The Knight of Tomorrow had Justin in her sights and a lack of focus could prove fatal, if not for herself, then for Gale, whom the vampire was currently closing in upon. Darn it! the high-tech heroine hissed as she watched Justin rotate his shield so that the rapidly shrinking opening her energy bolt had created was now facing away from them. With so much blood available to fuel his dark incantations, it seemed like it would be impossible for her to break through Justin's defenses. Even if his spells were limited by his remaining mana, there was no telling how much of that the vampire had left, and time was clearly of the essence, something the cacophonic croaking of the surrounding frog swarm attested to. Seeing that Gale seemed to be safe from ranged attacks for the moment, and not wanting to waste any more of her own mana than absolutely necessary, Ashley put her trust in the floaty bluenette's ability to avoid Justin's melee attacks and just focused on wearing down the vampire's defenses as best as she could. To that end, the Knight of Tomorrow fired yet another glowing bolt of neon green energy at the vampire's blood barrier. With luck, this continued bombardment would, at the very least, keep their foe's attention divided so that Gale would be able to take advantage of any openings that might appear in Justin's defenses. Meanwhile, Ashley's own above-average defenses against chaos attacks should keep the corrosive frogs from harming her, at least for the time being. In any event, this was sure to be a challenging fight, and the high-tech heroine only hoped that her fellow agents were having a better time of things than she was… --- 18 \| Female \| GEMINI \| Vision of Tomorrow Implements of Tomorrow \| Wand, Shield \| Arcane \| Tune of Tomorrow Raiment of Tomorrow \| Stride of Tomorrow Light of Tomorrow \| Light \| Power of Tomorrow PRO-TEK 4000 Defensive Surgery Implement \| Kevlar Coat, Kevlar Padding, Clip Light [Reveal (2), Purity (4)], Damage (2), Damage X (6), Shield (4), Reflect (4), Heal (6), Major Heal (18), AoE (2), Powerful (0), Piercing (2) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: E \| SENTINEL: C \| 750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: B \| 582</s>	<\|message\|>Jacqueline Leroux Frogs already? The critters would go ignored, however, as Gunther assembled a bunch of cars into a heap; some sort of makeshift fortress, it looked like. You...you are an annoyance. Pac-a-Fist took potshots at them with her laser-gun, which she evaded as she best could. Jacqueline was quickly losing patience, however. She formed a melody on the tip of her finger, and aimed. "TAKE COVER!" she shouted at her allies, echoing Breacher's urging for them to move. She had no idea if her attack would have devastating effects for her enemies, allies, or both. Or maybe Gunther would prove powerful enough to keep control of the cars even as they got shaken up. She was betting not though, because the coward was hiding. For all that he scorned the living, he was very much attached to his own un-life. Her beam fired, and connected to the sports car on top of the poltergeist's construction. Then, Jacqueline took her own advice, and dashed away. --- --- 28 \| Female \| Gemini Agents \| Iron Dust Havoc \| Great Axe \| Arcane \| Pry Eternal Knight \| Perfectly polished Forged Arsenal \| Earth/Metal \| Breakthrough [Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), AoE (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Zone (4), Pull (2), Restrain (4), Blink (4) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 [Silver Beam][Powerful][Quake] = -42 mana PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 636</s>
<\|description\|>Jacqueline Leroux AGE: 28 SEX: Female APPEARANCE: A lithe, pale woman standing at 164 centimeters (5'4) with slight curves and little muscle definition. She has an oval shaped face with a sharp chin, straight nose, and murky green eyes. Her raven hair is cut in a straight line and above her shoulders. It is long enough to tie into a short ponytail, however. She has a slightly messy fringe that falls into her eyes, which doesn't seem to bother her. Jay prefers wearing business suits; black trousers, jackets, and even cravats. She will sometimes spruce up with colourful and/or patterned dress shirts or cufflinks, however. She wears a silver wristwatch on her left, and occasionally accessorizes with broaches or earrings. Link to the Artist In her esper form, her complexion becomes outright greyish, and her hair is longer and wilder. Her esper outfit is a fancy full plate armour. Link to the Artist GRIMIORE: An engraved silver ring. She wears it on her right pinky. INSTRUMENT: Havoc A metal war pick with a simple design but some tasteful and subtle engravings. Its handle is about a meter and a half (5 feet) in length. The head is a blunt hammer on one side and a sharp, slightly curved spike on the other. The spike part is 13 cm (5 inches) long, while its width peters off from 6 centimeters at its widest to half a centimeter at its narrowest. GRADE: Silver KEYWORD: Great Axe DAMAGE TYPE: Arcane DAMAGE: B SPEED: D SENTINEL: D SPECIAL: Pry. When the spike end is hooked into or against an object or part of an object (such as an opponent's shield, a door…), the user can pry that object free of wherever it's stuck or from whomever holds it as long as that thing's or person's sentinel rank isn't higher than D. STYLE: Eternal Knight Her whole body changes hue, giving her an ash-gray, silvery complexion. There are some splotches of a darker, tarnished gray here and there – most notably around her eyes – and a few flecks of a near-white scattered around. Her hair is now a steely black, while her fingernails are a dull aluminum. Her irises are similarly leaden, while her pupils glint a bright red. Jacqueline becomes attired in full steel plate armour, which is finely engraved. Link to the Artist Grade: Bronze PHYSICAL: E ARCANE: C CHAOS: D SPECIAL: Perfectly polished. The armour is so speckless, you may even catch your own reflection in it. GENRE: Forged Arsenal Everything from rough chunks of metal to finer constructions such as bullets, shivs, spheres, chains, etc. GRADE: Silver ELEMENT: Earth/Metal NOTES: [Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), AoE (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Zone (4), Pull (2), Restrain (4), Blink (4) SPECIAL: Breakthrough. If a target of Jacqueline's melody has their defenses enhanced, her melody gains a free rank-up. LEITMOTIF: Iron Dust A cloud of small metal particles surrounds her. They do not obstruct her vision, nor do they aid her or hinder others in any way. GRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: The particles swirl around her; gently swaying while not in combat, and buzzing angrily when she is. BACKUP: Lifeblood Crystal A small blood gem created by Lada. Shatters upon use. A creeping crimson vein-esque pattern forms upon Jacqueline's esper form, both her body and her armour. GRADE: Silver BACKUP MELODY: [Bronze Self][Stabilize][Enhance][Heal][Delay][Reflect] SPECIAL: There is power in blood. This backup can draw upon nearby human blood (injured enemy, fresh body) the very moment it is used to empower the melody, granting it a rank-up. PR: Unchivalrous Some extra stuff that hardly fits the 'knightly' theme, but then again, Jacqueline isn't one to sweat the details. Survival is survival. GRADE: Bronze GEAR: Pistol, Molotov SPECIAL: The gun is metal-silver and engraved, the Molotov is in an elegant dark gray glass bottle and produces haunting white flames. FACTION: Gemini Agents TRIVIA: Jacqueline is ambitious and driven, always striving for something. While no-nonsense, professional, and assertive in a working environment, she is much more casual in her free time. She teases and snarks, and is more receptive to humour and such. Though, if an idiot gets on her nerves, she'll certainly let them have their piece. Otherwise, she is a faithful adherent of the 'work hard, play hard' adage, and often indulges in alcohol at bars – in moderation, now that she's so close to her 30s. She enjoys adventures – such as travelling, discovering new eateries and other locales – and a tad of a thrill seeker. Bungee-jumping, skydiving, water surfing…if it's a new and exciting experience, she'll likely go for it. This trait has also made her quite the enthusiastic, even bloodthirsty monster-hunter. Born to a banker and university professor, Jacqueline was firmly in the upper middle class since birth. As the only daughter, she faced strict guidance and high expectations. She fulfilled them all, and due to some good friends, avoided the fate of being too stifled or too much of a perfectionist. She excelled academically, and went on to study business. She completed part of her education back in France, but moved to USA for her master's. Not long after graduating, she found a job, and was looking to permanently settle there for a while. She became an esper fairly recently. Jacqueline had been visiting her parents and some friends back home. While on a jaunt around town, she was inexplicably drawn to a pawn shop. There, a fairly plain silver ring stood out to her for some reason, and she purchased it. Upon putting it on, she immediately gained knowledge of what she was now capable of. It was certainly a strange event, but an exhilarating one. A few days after returning home, she had another chance encounter, in which she used her powers properly for the first time. She'd been at a small eatery in the late evening, and upon leaving the establishment, heard a strange noise an alley or so away. Leaving to investigate, she found a monstrous racoon the size of a large dog crouched over a person, ready to attack. Both Jay and the monster were startled. The monster acted first, but Jacqueline knew what to do – she transformed into her esper form, and killed the thing. She'd been too preoccupied with what had happened to think of the possible consequences. When she was contacted not a week later by Gemini Agents, however, she learned that apparently despite the time of day and location, the fact that she'd saved a person and was an esper had been discovered. Having some things explained to her, she agreed for an official transferal to their establishment. Now, she works and trains as a government agent and monster slayer. --- --- 28 \| Female \| Gemini Agents \| Iron Dust Havoc \| Great Axe \| Arcane \| Pry Eternal Knight \| Perfectly polished Forged Arsenal \| Earth/Metal \| Breakthrough [Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), AoE (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Zone (4), Pull (2), Restrain (4), Blink (4) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: D \|750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 750</s> <\|message\|>Ashley Avenir, The Knight of Tomorrow Even with all the various defensive measures Ashley had in place, the foes arrayed against her were far too numerous to completely repel. The Knight of Tomorrow ground her teeth in annoyance as her anti-gravity buzzsaw became embedded in, and subsequently engulfed by, the increasingly growing mass of blood tendrils, even as a shot from Pac's laser pistol shattered the protective aura around her body. A swarm of buzzing flies was also assailing her from every angle, and despite her efforts to blast, block, or bat them aside, it was inevitable that one would eventually reach her body. Landing on her back, it disgorged a stream of acid onto her shoulder. Ashley hissed in pain as the corrosive spray ate into her flesh, but even as anguished tears streamed down her bloody cheeks, the high-tech heroine remained fiercely fixated on her goal… A moment later, a swift blur of motion gave evidence of Leroux's rescue, and its continued path toward Pac meant that the gamer girl would have significantly more pressing concerns to deal with than taking shots at Ashley. Thus, the Knight of Tomorrow joined her rescued teammate in her attack upon Justin. However, while the armored agent took the literal high ground, Ashley would come at their foe from a decidedly lower path. Moving to take cover behind one of the wrecked cars, the high-tech heroine finally caught sight of vampire once more. Even through the crimson downpour, she could see that his body had been utterly ravaged, and Ashley only hoped his injuries felt as painful as they looked… And you're going to be feeling a lot worse, you fucking monster… Justin's attention was fixed on Leroux, while his blood barrier remained focused on Samuel. Ashley herself had yet to be seen… Her skin had begun to itch from the rapidly spreading boils, but the young agent didn't care. Her foe was in her sights, and that was all that mattered. Her pain only sharpened her focus, only accentuated her desire to see Justin experience even greater agony. From her place of concealment, the Knight of Tomorrow crouched down, braced herself against the car for added stability, and fired off two orbs of neon green annihilation in quick succession. The first came via a melody. The second, more powerful, bolt originated directly from her techno-wand itself. Both were aimed at the vampire's now-exposed heart… --- 18 \| Female \| GEMINI \| Vision of Tomorrow Implements of Tomorrow \| Wand, Shield \| Arcane \| Tune of Tomorrow Raiment of Tomorrow \| Stride of Tomorrow Light of Tomorrow \| Light \| Power of Tomorrow PRO-TEK 4000 Defensive Surgery Implement \| Kevlar Coat, Kevlar Padding, Clip Light [Reveal (2), Purity (4)], Damage (2), Damage X (6), Shield (4), Reflect (4), Heal (6), Major Heal (18), AoE (2), Powerful (0), Piercing (2) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: E \| SENTINEL: C \| 750 [Silver Projectile][Damage X] = -90 mana PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: B \| 252</s> <\|message\|>Marrie Knight Marrie Knight I'm saving you whether you want it or not, damnit! Marrie thought as Pac fell out of her chain. She used the last bit of flight given to her by her note to drop down at an angle in an attempt to avoid the starship and it's attack. As she fell, and her skin began itching, she used her backup. The bracelet she had been given worked its magic to heal herself up again. She had to conserve mana at this point, she knew. She hit the ground and rolled before bursting into a sprint towards Pac-a-fist. She was not going to give up, and Pac had to be running low on mana too. A quick glance at Justin made it clear that they were in the second phase of the boss fight, and the damnable Diver was still making things worse. What was the next one again? Oh. Oh shit. --- 19 \| Female \| Freelancer \| Misty Steps Apexer Predator \| Dagger \| Physical \| Heavenly Chain Arctic Storm \| Masking Step of the Hurricane \| Wind \| Riding the Currents After You Get Smacked UP \| Disco Fever [Storm (4), Flight (6)] Damage X (6), Multi-Cast (4), Blink (4), Magic Sense (6), Heal (16), Portal (8), Rain (2), Scatter (2), Bounce (2) DAMAGE: C \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: C \| 156 After You Get Smacked Up : Bronze Self - Powerful - Enhance - Heal PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: B \| 156</s>	<\|message\|>Jacqueline Leroux Justin was damaged, but of course, not yet dead. He whirled on her, and she suddenly couldn't move. So, that's what his trick was. Even though he made for a gory image, he was clearly still functioning perfectly fine. He could probably heal somehow or other if given time enough. He had to be finished off now, somehow. All she could do was cast a melody. That'd have to be enough. The very moment she realized what he intended to do – felt the blood rain under his control herding her closer to him, saw his arm raise and grow claws – her decision was made. She channeled magic throughout her body. An attack he shouldn't be able to see coming until it was too late. It didn't even matter when her skin broke out in boils. She strained under the pain, but was unable to move. Inevitably, her eyes teared. It was painful, and it would get even more so. But her melody was primed and ready to go. As soon as the vampire grasped her, he'd be in for a surprise. --- --- 28 \| Female \| Gemini Agents \| Iron Dust Havoc \| Great Axe \| Arcane \| Pry Eternal Knight \| Perfectly polished Forged Arsenal \| Earth/Metal \| Breakthrough [Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), AoE (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Zone (4), Pull (2), Restrain (4), Blink (4) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 [Silver Touch][AoE][Damage X] = -120 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 140</s>
<\|description\|>Apollo Greit 24 y/o \| Male \| 6'7" \| 260 lbs \| Freelancer ↕ APPEARANCE: At 6'7" with a mountain of muscle to fill out his clothes, Apollo draws attention wherever he goes. It doesn't help that he has a sharp face and clear skin. His dark hair is rough, but gives him a wild sort of look. When in his esper form, an extra layer of skin covers his body. He appears as though someone forgot to sculpt a face on his chiselled body. While quick, his transformation looks as though an extra layer of skin spreads from the origin of his earring. GRIMIORE: A simple and small diamond earring worn on his right ear. INSTRUMENT: Tethering the Beast A full arm gauntlet with a manacle resting on the back of his hand and 15 feet of chain around his arm. While appearing to be made out of metal, it seems too bestial to be compared to a knight's armour. GRADE: Silver KEYWORD: Hand, rope/chain DAMAGE TYPE: Physical DAMAGE: D SPEED: C SENTINEL: C SPECIAL: Tether - Apollo can fire the manacle as though it were a projectile and have it latch onto whatever it strikes. Apollo can also release the manacle after it has latched onto something. Striking the manacle with an E-rank attack causes it to prematurely open. After being opened this way, the manacle can not be fired for 12 seconds (2 combat rounds, usually). STYLE: Second Skin A thin extra layer of skin covers Apollo and all of his discernible features. One could almost say he looked like a super hero, save for the blank face, lack of cape, and flesh colourway. GRADE: Bronze PHYSICAL: E ARCANE: D CHAOS: C SPECIAL: Regrowth - Superficial wounds, grazing hits, and other light external injuries that would have no real effect rapidly regenerate. Genre: God Complex Apollo holds the power of life and death over others. Though in his case, the majority of that is life. GRADE: Silver ELEMENT: Light NOTES: [Reveal (2), Purity (4)], Heal (16), Stabilize (0), Purify (6), Reflect (4), Damage X(6), Powerful (0), Trap (0), AoE (2), Full Extend (4) SPECIAL: Give Him Thanks - Thanking Apollo after being afflicted by one of his healing melodies restores 10% of his melody's cost. LEITMOTIF: GRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: Bastard - Apollo's face seems to be an extra attractive target. TRIVIA: There is no reward without effort. For Apollo, that applies for everything in his life. His brutal physique was the result of hours spent daily at a gym. His success in life had been a mixture of the extra hours he put in compared to other people and his willingness to crush other people. Of course, someone who works as hard as him has to play even harder. He's a raging bull likely to die before old age destroys his body. He's a shallow womanizer whose relationships all end in lust and abandonment. He drinks so much that the only thing preventing him from becoming an alcoholic is the damage it would do on his physique. In the end, he's an unlikable bastard who can't stop winning. Of course, Apollo was never born this way. In fact, the young child was unrecognizable to his current self. He was a dainty ward of the state. He could barely make eye contact with other people. He bounced around homes and cities often and never really found family. The kid was alone. He only had himself he could trust and rely on. Every adult left him. That cowardly boy realized something. If everyone threw him away, couldn't he just return it in kind? The boy began to use other people. That fearful attitude he possessed as a young child vanished as he made relationships that better served him. He used people around him. If they had something he wanted, he got close to them. As the boy slowly became a man, this aspect of him never changed. Every relationship was based on value to himself. He spent more time working out and working. His fosters didn't care, even as he left the house. One less mouth to feed and all. Soon, the man was unrecognizable. A meteoric rise in his job from knowing and using the right people. His body had shifted from that of a thin adolescent to that of a well-toned man. He got what he wanted and was on the rise to being king of his own little world. His final promotion came a transfer to a larger city. Pax Septimus was an interesting place. Certainly bigger than his old home. More interesting nightlife, more expansive gyms, and more shallow people. He fit right in. It was on a whim that he picked up those earrings. He bought them as a gift from a pawn shop in an alleyway. They were cheap, but looked expensive. A used box and fake card would make them look like a thoughtful, if generic, gift. Still, it was surprising that those earrings were there. At that price, they should have sold the second they touched the store shelf. He just had a feeling that he needed to buy them. With them in hand, he left the pawn shop. It was a surprise that there was an abomination right outside the door. The monster was definitely not human. No amount of scars and defects could give someone a maw that consisted of head-sized gaping hole with a blender of teeth. With earrings in hand, he instantly went to for a devastating hook aimed at the inhuman monster in front of him. As he did so, the earrings seemed to vanish. Instead, another layer of skin covered his body as he struck the monster. Blow for blow, Apollo punched the shit out of that thing. He ignored the weapon that seemed to appear alongside his new skin. When the beast cut him, he instinctively healed himself. It was a brutal blow for blow fight that should have ended faster. With the last of his strength, he tossed a punch clad in light. As he had done so, the monster's head practically vanished as a red mist took its place. He was exhausted and confused as the skin retracted back into a single earring, the other one probably lost during the fight. That was the most alive he'd ever felt. With that experience, he couldn't go back to his normal life. No, he couldn't stomach it anymore. He quit in order to follow the path of that night. Since then, he's been freelancing. After all, it's been something to actually challenge him. 24 \| Male \| Freelancer \| Bastard Tethering the Beast \| Fist, Rope/Chain \| Physical \| Tether Second Skin \| Regrowth God Complex \| Light \| Give Him Thanks [Reveal (2), Purity (4)], Heal (16), Stabilize (0), Purify (6), Reflect (4), Damage X(6), Powerful (0), Trap (0), AoE (2), Full Extend (4) DAMAGE: E \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 750</s> <\|message\|>Aria Sato, The Protector ARIA: THE PROTECTOR \| PSPD #11 Reporting to: G.E.M.I.N.I. Agents The teacher waved her last remaining student goodbye and watched him be driven off before shifting her attention to the Shimr app. A quick swipe and she was all set. With hands clasped tight around her keychain, she muttered a small prayer in her native tongue before her body dispersed into light, transforming into... ...a massive 8'0" suit of pure, leaden armor. On its back rested a massive shield that seemed to add on more to the giant suit's weight, but it seemed to not mind. Each of its weighted steps sounded heavily throughout the area, accompanied by a little jingle as the keychain attached to its cuirass shook. It showed up at the given assembly area stated in the app a little earlier than the meetup time. Tardiness was a no-no, after all. A slight whirring noise came as its metal head rotated left to right to scan the area. It was not hard for it to spot the three women standing together. One was heavily plated in armor, much like itself. It admired her shield, giving her an internal thumbs-up. The other seemed to have green hair- this, it was sure the little students would love to see. The third seemed apprehensive but had an air of seriousness about her, especially taking into account the rifle in her arms. The fourth stood relaxed, in a shiny, seemingly well-maintained suit of armor. The Protector hauled itself to the group, eager to meet its teammates. It towered over the trio and greeted politely: "Good evening, everyone. I am Protector." A deep, gravelly voice rumbled from within the confines of the helmeted suit of armor. "And you?" --- 20 \| Female \| The Freelancers \| Guardian Protector's Treaty \| Spear, Shield \| Arcane \| Aegis Protector's Stronghold \| Shelter Protector's Mandate \| Gravity \| Fortification [Weightless (4), Suspend X (4)], Blink (4), Restrain (4), Pull (2), AoE (2), Powerful (0), Shield (4) DAMAGE: D \| SPEED: E \| SENTINEL: B \| 500 PHYSICAL: D \| ARCANE: E \| CHAOS: D \| 500</s> <\|message\|>Jacqueline Leroux Jacqueline Leroux She was being driven to the precinct in what was basically a giant metal cage, and it was utterly silent. Jacqueline didn't show it, but she was bored. The only silver lining was that her esper outfit didn't make her all the more uncomfortable, despite logic dictating that wearing full plate should. Jay was glad to arrive at the location, because at least it got her out of the awkward, suffocating enclosed space. She surveyed the surroundings, hoping to catch signs of trouble – but there was nothing on the outside. She stood guard while she waited, gaze perfunctorily wandering here and there, just in case someone or something dangerous showed up. Jacqueline noted one of her co-workers, Valkyrie was as serious as ever. Not that she herself was lax, but Jay had recognized from working alongside her that the other woman took their duty very personally. She couldn't help but wonder if she could keep up being so stiff and inflexible even several years down the line. Should just worry about myself. Jacqueline let out a slightly longer exhale, then moved closer to where conversation between Breacher and Blinky ensued. "A few freelancers, huh. Don't have nothing against them, but it's annoying how we've no clue how many'll show up till they do. Oh, well." She ignored the part about Breacher's daughter, as she wasn't really interested. But she did pitch in at the end. "To a good one," she said simply. She shifted her war pick to her left, and offered her right to Blinky and Breacher. She didn't bother with Valkyrie, since she either wasn't interested or that weapon really was too cumbersome. A moment passed, and all was quiet again. "So, chance of monster involvement?" she asked idly. However, her tone indicated she didn't expect anything non-human this time. It wasn't long till their first Freelancer helper arrived. They were a giant suited-up soldier, and drew attention from far away. "Evenin'. Just call me Leroux. Pleasure to meet you," Jay introduced herself with a nod.</s>	<\|message\|>Apollo Greit The roar of six cylinders echoed against the concrete buildings. It certainly wasn't sneaky, but someone driving a car for assholes like an asshole was considerably less conspicuous than the government armoured vehicles that crept through the streets. Apollo certainly wasn't planning to work today. He was just out for a rip. However, a job on Shimr and government vehicles entering was at least interesting enough to show up. The aggressive car came to a stop some distance away as the engine's roar was replaced by equally aggressive music muffled by closed windows. As the music went silent alongside the engine, a large figure left the poorly parked car. With a shirt that was a size too small, aviators, and a golden necklace, he certainly didn't like a government stooge. In fact, he looked closer to one of the people who would have chosen to occupy a police station. Quickly, his aviators were removed and placed on the collar of his shirt. A second skin began to grow and cover his personal features. Though, his clothing was unaffected by this. There were already a couple of people there. It was pretty easy to tell which ones were freelancers and which ones were agents, even if he had never worked with or seen them before. Agents usually ended up looking the same. Though this time, it appeared there were two armoured persons. Well, it wasn't like like the armour actually did anything. The armour from the 8" giant did look sturdier than the other woman's, though. He approached the group with his phone in hand and the screen showing the Shimr job open and visible. His appearance as a faceless Adonis tended to get him questioned more than anything else. Letting others see that he was a freelancer was the best way to expedite the process of not getting questioned or tackled. Still, he introduced himself to the group. "I'm Apollo," he succinctly stated. "You can think of me as a healer, more or less." With it being a mystery of if that was his nickname or his actual name, he held out a fist for the giant to bump. Tall people had to stick together, even if the Protector undoubtedly got a few feet from their esper form. With his fist still extended, he glanced over to his right. Without missing a beat, his head quickly recoiled as a girl with a gun seemed to suddenly appear. Or was always there? Still shocked him. --- 24 \| Male \| Freelancer \| Bastard Restraining Order \| Spear \| Physical \| Unenforceable Second Skin \| Regrowth God Complex \| Light \| Give Him Thanks [Reveal (2), Purity (4)], Heal (16), Stabilize (0), Purify (6), Reflect (4), Damage X(6), Powerful (0), Trap (0), AoE (2), Full Extend (4) DAMAGE: E \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 750</s>
<\|description\|>Apollo Greit 24 y/o \| Male \| 6'7" \| 260 lbs \| Freelancer ↕ APPEARANCE: At 6'7" with a mountain of muscle to fill out his clothes, Apollo draws attention wherever he goes. It doesn't help that he has a sharp face and clear skin. His dark hair is rough, but gives him a wild sort of look. When in his esper form, an extra layer of skin covers his body. He appears as though someone forgot to sculpt a face on his chiselled body. While quick, his transformation looks as though an extra layer of skin spreads from the origin of his earring. GRIMIORE: A simple and small diamond earring worn on his right ear. INSTRUMENT: Tethering the Beast A full arm gauntlet with a manacle resting on the back of his hand and 15 feet of chain around his arm. While appearing to be made out of metal, it seems too bestial to be compared to a knight's armour. GRADE: Silver KEYWORD: Hand, rope/chain DAMAGE TYPE: Physical DAMAGE: D SPEED: C SENTINEL: C SPECIAL: Tether - Apollo can fire the manacle as though it were a projectile and have it latch onto whatever it strikes. Apollo can also release the manacle after it has latched onto something. Striking the manacle with an E-rank attack causes it to prematurely open. After being opened this way, the manacle can not be fired for 12 seconds (2 combat rounds, usually). STYLE: Second Skin A thin extra layer of skin covers Apollo and all of his discernible features. One could almost say he looked like a super hero, save for the blank face, lack of cape, and flesh colourway. GRADE: Bronze PHYSICAL: E ARCANE: D CHAOS: C SPECIAL: Regrowth - Superficial wounds, grazing hits, and other light external injuries that would have no real effect rapidly regenerate. Genre: God Complex Apollo holds the power of life and death over others. Though in his case, the majority of that is life. GRADE: Silver ELEMENT: Light NOTES: [Reveal (2), Purity (4)], Heal (16), Stabilize (0), Purify (6), Reflect (4), Damage X(6), Powerful (0), Trap (0), AoE (2), Full Extend (4) SPECIAL: Give Him Thanks - Thanking Apollo after being afflicted by one of his healing melodies restores 10% of his melody's cost. LEITMOTIF: GRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: Bastard - Apollo's face seems to be an extra attractive target. TRIVIA: There is no reward without effort. For Apollo, that applies for everything in his life. His brutal physique was the result of hours spent daily at a gym. His success in life had been a mixture of the extra hours he put in compared to other people and his willingness to crush other people. Of course, someone who works as hard as him has to play even harder. He's a raging bull likely to die before old age destroys his body. He's a shallow womanizer whose relationships all end in lust and abandonment. He drinks so much that the only thing preventing him from becoming an alcoholic is the damage it would do on his physique. In the end, he's an unlikable bastard who can't stop winning. Of course, Apollo was never born this way. In fact, the young child was unrecognizable to his current self. He was a dainty ward of the state. He could barely make eye contact with other people. He bounced around homes and cities often and never really found family. The kid was alone. He only had himself he could trust and rely on. Every adult left him. That cowardly boy realized something. If everyone threw him away, couldn't he just return it in kind? The boy began to use other people. That fearful attitude he possessed as a young child vanished as he made relationships that better served him. He used people around him. If they had something he wanted, he got close to them. As the boy slowly became a man, this aspect of him never changed. Every relationship was based on value to himself. He spent more time working out and working. His fosters didn't care, even as he left the house. One less mouth to feed and all. Soon, the man was unrecognizable. A meteoric rise in his job from knowing and using the right people. His body had shifted from that of a thin adolescent to that of a well-toned man. He got what he wanted and was on the rise to being king of his own little world. His final promotion came a transfer to a larger city. Pax Septimus was an interesting place. Certainly bigger than his old home. More interesting nightlife, more expansive gyms, and more shallow people. He fit right in. It was on a whim that he picked up those earrings. He bought them as a gift from a pawn shop in an alleyway. They were cheap, but looked expensive. A used box and fake card would make them look like a thoughtful, if generic, gift. Still, it was surprising that those earrings were there. At that price, they should have sold the second they touched the store shelf. He just had a feeling that he needed to buy them. With them in hand, he left the pawn shop. It was a surprise that there was an abomination right outside the door. The monster was definitely not human. No amount of scars and defects could give someone a maw that consisted of head-sized gaping hole with a blender of teeth. With earrings in hand, he instantly went to for a devastating hook aimed at the inhuman monster in front of him. As he did so, the earrings seemed to vanish. Instead, another layer of skin covered his body as he struck the monster. Blow for blow, Apollo punched the shit out of that thing. He ignored the weapon that seemed to appear alongside his new skin. When the beast cut him, he instinctively healed himself. It was a brutal blow for blow fight that should have ended faster. With the last of his strength, he tossed a punch clad in light. As he had done so, the monster's head practically vanished as a red mist took its place. He was exhausted and confused as the skin retracted back into a single earring, the other one probably lost during the fight. That was the most alive he'd ever felt. With that experience, he couldn't go back to his normal life. No, he couldn't stomach it anymore. He quit in order to follow the path of that night. Since then, he's been freelancing. After all, it's been something to actually challenge him. 24 \| Male \| Freelancer \| Bastard Tethering the Beast \| Fist, Rope/Chain \| Physical \| Tether Second Skin \| Regrowth God Complex \| Light \| Give Him Thanks [Reveal (2), Purity (4)], Heal (16), Stabilize (0), Purify (6), Reflect (4), Damage X(6), Powerful (0), Trap (0), AoE (2), Full Extend (4) DAMAGE: E \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 750</s> <\|message\|>Klava Pavlova 22 \| Female \| Freelancers \| Meltwater Spring Moya-no-Yume \| Dagger \| Physical \| Frosted Sheen Snowdrop Vestige \| Sangfroid Convention Glacial Stream \| Aqua \| Rime Rose [Freeze, Slick] Damage X, Restrain, Extend, Construction, Trap, Enhance, Mark, Blink, Powerful DAMAGE: D \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: E \| 750 PHYSICAL: E\| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 750 Of all the vehicles that had driven up to face the concrete barrier, there was one that stood out: a second-hand bicycle with a large bell and no light, the chosen steed of the Frost Maiden. Deciding to come to the party transformed this time around, Klava checked her reflection in Moya-no-Yume, ensuring that nothing was off, that none of the burn scars from her last run in with Sofron was still there. It looked good though. Perfectly clear and soothingly soft, with the charming plumpness of youth that all young ladies had. Ah, if only her Leitmotif persisted in her human form too, then maybe she wouldn't have to spend so much on her skin routine. Well, she could also cut down on her love for food, but where's the fun in that? Billy Black and the Mavericks all look suitably monstrous though, something that kept the freelancer on edge but only on edge. There was no point in stressing over what their enemies looked like, after all. The group that was actually invading was going to be freelancers and Maverick espers, so it was very much just a matter of 'attack things that aren't espers. And friendly faces were all around too! There was Fable, the surprisingly spunky but also 100% precocious kiddo, already putting on his approximation of a 'serious professional face, and there was ol' (well, no, it was pretty likely that Protector was actually younger than her) Pro, a hulk in a coffin of metal, bristling with restrained threat. Apollo must be somewhere as well, though she hadn't caught a glimpse of his dime-bouncing butt yet. As she began her own stretches in preparation for vampire-asskicking, Klava asked the decisive question: "So, Billy, there gonna be on-site catering after this? That mansion looks like it could host a whole party, if ya catch my drift."</s> <\|message\|>Aria Sato, The Protector ARIA: THE PROTECTOR \| The Mavericks Reporting to: Billy Black --- Rising Hope needed a few extra hands to tend to the school gardens today-- a little setup built by fellow volunteer teachers to provide more outdoor activities for the kids. A fun time, indeed, so much so that the Protector got carried away in the process, and had to speed to the closest bus upon realizing it was nearly late for its meeting with the other espers. It was seemingly in such a rush that the jingle of its keychain (along with its heavy rumbling steps) as it ran past the pedestrians along the way could probably be heard from the meeting spot itself. Either way, it was only glad it wasn't late. Though transforming right at the bus stop did earn it some funny looks. "Hi, Klava!" The eight-foot-tall hulking suit of armor showed up just after Klava did, arriving in a jog as it waved at its friend with eager semicircle arcs through the air, clearly glad to see her."And hello again-- Apollo!" It shyly raised a gauntleted palm in the air - the same form of greeting the Protector recalled the man using when they first met during their last minute. After greeting the familiar faces, it directed a bow towards the head of the operation, Billy Black, and his fellow mercenaries. While this crowd most definitely intimidated the young esper during its first mission running with the Mavericks, it had gotten used to their more unique and vibrant forms of expression, and gradually grew to respect their way of handling monsters. The same went for the GEMINIs, but this week, it was time to alternate between the two. It hummed as it acknowledged the leader's instructions. Casting a glance around, it didn't take long for the armored sentinel to notice the youngest person in their midst. A child, actually. A bubble of concern immediately rose within the Protector, but not before reminding itself that the people present were all either espers or very-well capable of handling themselves. The nursery teacher rationalized this fairly quickly. After all, it would not deign to underestimate a child, no matter who they were. "Hello, there." A deep, gravelly voice rumbled kindly from inside the hunk of armor, offering its hand to the boy for a good old-fashioned handshake."I go by the Protector. May I have your name as well?"</s>	<\|message\|>Apollo Greit By some miracle, Apollo didn't arrive in style like he usually did. After all, he still had to make up for his previous binge. It took effort to keep his ordinary self in style. In a pair of joggers, running shoes, and a tight shirt that seemed to accentuate every one of his abs, he ran the entire way. Or, at the very least, ran from the nearest parking lot. He already worked with most of his allies on this mission. Though, the appearance of a small and puntable child was new. Still, having the Protector to block for him and the Maiden to run interference made the idea of fighting vampires a little better. He didn't exactly know if his light aspected melodies would be important to deal with vampires. There was always a line between fiction and reality, after all. He could guess that a stake in the heart would be a weakness, but that was a weakness of most living things. Well, those thoughts were useless. He gave a confident but simple greeting back to the protector. A hey and a quick hand wave. In any case, the plan was simple. Break in, start shit, don't die. Pretty simple and easy to do. With mantrap in hand, skin over his face, and joggers to hide the mystery of what that skin covering did to his bits, he was ready to fight. "Lead the way. I'll try to keep you guys alive."</s>
<\|description\|>Apollo Greit 24 y/o \| Male \| 6'7" \| 260 lbs \| Freelancer ↕ APPEARANCE: At 6'7" with a mountain of muscle to fill out his clothes, Apollo draws attention wherever he goes. It doesn't help that he has a sharp face and clear skin. His dark hair is rough, but gives him a wild sort of look. When in his esper form, an extra layer of skin covers his body. He appears as though someone forgot to sculpt a face on his chiselled body. While quick, his transformation looks as though an extra layer of skin spreads from the origin of his earring. GRIMIORE: A simple and small diamond earring worn on his right ear. INSTRUMENT: Tethering the Beast A full arm gauntlet with a manacle resting on the back of his hand and 15 feet of chain around his arm. While appearing to be made out of metal, it seems too bestial to be compared to a knight's armour. GRADE: Silver KEYWORD: Hand, rope/chain DAMAGE TYPE: Physical DAMAGE: D SPEED: C SENTINEL: C SPECIAL: Tether - Apollo can fire the manacle as though it were a projectile and have it latch onto whatever it strikes. Apollo can also release the manacle after it has latched onto something. Striking the manacle with an E-rank attack causes it to prematurely open. After being opened this way, the manacle can not be fired for 12 seconds (2 combat rounds, usually). STYLE: Second Skin A thin extra layer of skin covers Apollo and all of his discernible features. One could almost say he looked like a super hero, save for the blank face, lack of cape, and flesh colourway. GRADE: Bronze PHYSICAL: E ARCANE: D CHAOS: C SPECIAL: Regrowth - Superficial wounds, grazing hits, and other light external injuries that would have no real effect rapidly regenerate. Genre: God Complex Apollo holds the power of life and death over others. Though in his case, the majority of that is life. GRADE: Silver ELEMENT: Light NOTES: [Reveal (2), Purity (4)], Heal (16), Stabilize (0), Purify (6), Reflect (4), Damage X(6), Powerful (0), Trap (0), AoE (2), Full Extend (4) SPECIAL: Give Him Thanks - Thanking Apollo after being afflicted by one of his healing melodies restores 10% of his melody's cost. LEITMOTIF: GRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: Bastard - Apollo's face seems to be an extra attractive target. TRIVIA: There is no reward without effort. For Apollo, that applies for everything in his life. His brutal physique was the result of hours spent daily at a gym. His success in life had been a mixture of the extra hours he put in compared to other people and his willingness to crush other people. Of course, someone who works as hard as him has to play even harder. He's a raging bull likely to die before old age destroys his body. He's a shallow womanizer whose relationships all end in lust and abandonment. He drinks so much that the only thing preventing him from becoming an alcoholic is the damage it would do on his physique. In the end, he's an unlikable bastard who can't stop winning. Of course, Apollo was never born this way. In fact, the young child was unrecognizable to his current self. He was a dainty ward of the state. He could barely make eye contact with other people. He bounced around homes and cities often and never really found family. The kid was alone. He only had himself he could trust and rely on. Every adult left him. That cowardly boy realized something. If everyone threw him away, couldn't he just return it in kind? The boy began to use other people. That fearful attitude he possessed as a young child vanished as he made relationships that better served him. He used people around him. If they had something he wanted, he got close to them. As the boy slowly became a man, this aspect of him never changed. Every relationship was based on value to himself. He spent more time working out and working. His fosters didn't care, even as he left the house. One less mouth to feed and all. Soon, the man was unrecognizable. A meteoric rise in his job from knowing and using the right people. His body had shifted from that of a thin adolescent to that of a well-toned man. He got what he wanted and was on the rise to being king of his own little world. His final promotion came a transfer to a larger city. Pax Septimus was an interesting place. Certainly bigger than his old home. More interesting nightlife, more expansive gyms, and more shallow people. He fit right in. It was on a whim that he picked up those earrings. He bought them as a gift from a pawn shop in an alleyway. They were cheap, but looked expensive. A used box and fake card would make them look like a thoughtful, if generic, gift. Still, it was surprising that those earrings were there. At that price, they should have sold the second they touched the store shelf. He just had a feeling that he needed to buy them. With them in hand, he left the pawn shop. It was a surprise that there was an abomination right outside the door. The monster was definitely not human. No amount of scars and defects could give someone a maw that consisted of head-sized gaping hole with a blender of teeth. With earrings in hand, he instantly went to for a devastating hook aimed at the inhuman monster in front of him. As he did so, the earrings seemed to vanish. Instead, another layer of skin covered his body as he struck the monster. Blow for blow, Apollo punched the shit out of that thing. He ignored the weapon that seemed to appear alongside his new skin. When the beast cut him, he instinctively healed himself. It was a brutal blow for blow fight that should have ended faster. With the last of his strength, he tossed a punch clad in light. As he had done so, the monster's head practically vanished as a red mist took its place. He was exhausted and confused as the skin retracted back into a single earring, the other one probably lost during the fight. That was the most alive he'd ever felt. With that experience, he couldn't go back to his normal life. No, he couldn't stomach it anymore. He quit in order to follow the path of that night. Since then, he's been freelancing. After all, it's been something to actually challenge him. 24 \| Male \| Freelancer \| Bastard Tethering the Beast \| Fist, Rope/Chain \| Physical \| Tether Second Skin \| Regrowth God Complex \| Light \| Give Him Thanks [Reveal (2), Purity (4)], Heal (16), Stabilize (0), Purify (6), Reflect (4), Damage X(6), Powerful (0), Trap (0), AoE (2), Full Extend (4) DAMAGE: E \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 750</s> <\|message\|>Klava Pavlova 22 \| Female \| Freelancers \| Meltwater Spring Moya-no-Yume \| Dagger \| Physical \| Frosted Sheen Snowdrop Vestige \| Sangfroid Convention Glacial Stream \| Aqua \| Rime Rose [Freeze, Slick] Damage X, Restrain, Extend, Construction, Trap, Enhance, Mark, Blink, Powerful DAMAGE: D \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: E \| 750 [Silver Touch + Construction + Slick] = 150 Mana PHYSICAL: E\| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 440 @Majoras End@OwO@mantou Flames all around, exploding beside her as she ducked and wove. VIP and healer cut off from the rest. Titan in front, pyros behind. Ghost off to the side, naturally able to bypass any obstacles. And in the distance stood a violinist, a pale-skinned aberration amongst the increasing chaos. Smoke wafted down, soot coating her skin before cool waters naturally washed it off. The heat did not sting her eyes, nor did the flames ignite her traumas. Through the haze, Klava recognized the violinist. The one that was kidnapped, the one that was enthralled. Finn, clad in lightning, was already off. Did he have a personal connection? Did it matter? Youthful passions lent itself easily to a desire to save the damsel above all else, but the Maiden did not feel such passions herself. She was as fair as frost. She was as cold as laws. She brushed her hands against the sides of her head, pulling back her bangs and clearing up her vision. One breath. Compared to the fantastical capabilities of monsters and magi, unrestrained by the laws of Melodies and Notes, Espers were individuals bound by scarce resources. It was in that scarcity, though, that an Esper's greatest strength could be unveiled. Imagination and resourcefulness, rounded out by the knowledge that they had two lives compared to the one of their foes. Her blade hissed coldly. Her mind rested at a razor point. I hadn't realized storms were so gentle. Well, there were no grandpas here. "Protector, switch and take care of the backline. Weapons only, team with Apollo to restrain and kill the pyros. Tetrad, your wand shoots magic. Focus the ghost. Don't need you to kill it, just occupy it. We'll secure our back first. I'll handle Big Bob. Stay frosty all." Another breath, deeper, for a voice loud enough to be heard over a blizzard. "And Timekeeper! Focus on evasion and keep the girl between you and the pyros!" Her piece said, Klava clapped Protector on the back as she stepped forth, right to the edge of the charred and blazing heap that cut the pathway in half. Here, the pyromancers wouldn't have a shot on her unless they wanted to get right up at the gap. She raised one leg up, then stomped it down onto the ground, the chiming of bells sounding brightly as the Esper adopted a wide stance. Her arms raised out to the side, palms facing the gargantuan foe as if to embrace them. "Ha ha ha ha," the dark-haired esper said, mimicking the robotic laughter of her foe. "You're proof enough that the strength of machinery is a sham. I'll rent out your lady with the money I make off your scraps." Arcane power built beneath her skin, the resonance of a melody sending chills down her spine. It was always a gamble, but Klava was compulsive. At the moment it broke into a sprint, she would Construct a curved slope, Slicked enough to prevent any sudden deceleration. A slope that would extend right into the ceiling, to send the robotic cretin right into stone and dirt. It had proven resistant to magic. Now the question: was it resistant to itself? Well, if she had to run because it actually turned out to be a lightning beam cannon that Big Bob was building up, that was fine too. Klava's Mark on Apollo's ass, after all, still remained as her get-out-of-jail card.</s> <\|message\|>Marrie Knight Marrie Knight Marrie turned the corner and ran into a girl with a chainsaw in her stomach. How it was stuck there while running was beyond her, magic presumably. Otherwise it would cut through her thanks to gravity, right? So the girl must not just be a zombie, but likely an Esper as well. She managed to procure that much before the zombie made her final lap around her, stopping too close for comfort with the chainsaw in relation to Marrie. "Can't we, like... convince them to let us through? And why do we need... oh, right, the giant snake. Alright, sure, let's go talk to them." If nothing else, if the goblins started a fight, Marrie was confident she could get past them and that they'd then distract the HFIL out of the HFHL. ... Maybe the fact that she made dragonball jokes in life or death situations had something to do with why god hated her enough to send the serpent after her. She began walking towards the goblins, turning the light off. --- 19 \| Female \| Freelancer \| Misty Steps Apex Predator \| Dagger \| Physical \| Mirror Shine Wind-Carved Glacier \| Masking Step of the Hurricane \| Wind \| Riding the Currents [Storm (4), Flight (6)] Damage X (6), Slow Fall (4), Blink (4), Magic Sense (6), Heal (16), Portal (8), Rain (2), Bounce (0), If Foe (0) DAMAGE: E \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: C \| 614 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 614</s>	<\|message\|>Apollo Greit With new pyromancers appearing, Apollo had suddenly found himself bombarded by fireballs. Of course, he did have a large indestructible way to defend himself. As the fireballs from purple and two-tone came at him, he swatted them away with his spear. Sure, it fucking stung as the pyrokinetics burst on his mantrap and the vibrations carried themselves to his hands, but he was fine. If Billy's hunk of rock could stop it with very little damage, Apollo swatting them out of the way wouldn't be much damage. "Fucking christ!" He yelled in annoyance. "Why does every mission have to be fire everywhere and people coming out of shit like it's a clown car!" Rather than saying this to nobody, it looked like he was directly yelling it at two-tone, briefly recharging after he threw a few fireballs. In his fit of annoyance, Apollo went, for lack of a better term, berserk. Quickly turning around, he swung his mantrap at green-hair's skull, absolutely cranking him with the hunk of metal. Once he had done so, he spun to deal with the two pyromancers who had been blasting him. In a feat of reckless abandon, he charged two-tone with his man trap with the aim of locking him within its jaws. Once collected, he'd push him directly into purple and go from there. He'd probably just hide behind the two of them if needed. Ghost-gurt man would probably do something. Might as well use the teenagers for something. --- 24 \| Male \| Freelancer \| Bastard Restraining Order \| Spear \| Physical \| Unenforceable Second Skin \| Regrowth God Complex \| Light \| Give Him Thanks [Reveal (2), Purity (4)], Heal (16), Stabilize (0), Purify (6), Reflect (4), Damage X(6), Powerful (0), Trap (0), AoE (2), Full Extend (4) DAMAGE: E \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 660</s>
<\|description\|>Klava Pavlova 22 y/o \| Female \| 5'9 \| 148 lbs \| Freelancer ❄ GrimoireAn aquamarine prayer stick. The fortune on it reads, in Chinese characters, 'Calamitous Fortune'. It's been repurposed as a hairpin. InstrumentMoya-no-Yume – A dagger with a hilt long enough to be comfortably held in two hands. The construction of the handguard includes embellishments of carp and streams, while the fabric that wraps around the hilt is an aged indigo. The blade is unremarkable, but well-maintained. GRADE: Bronze KEYWORD: Dagger DAMAGE TYPE: Physical DAMAGE: D SPEED: C SENTINEL: E SPECIAL: Frosted Sheen – Moya-no-Yume's blade is cold to the touch, and in warmer temperatures will exude a faint mist. StyleImpermanence of Spring Snow – A modified variation of a shrine maiden's garments, featuring colors that evoke both the cold chill of winter and the vibrant colors of spring. Purple and yellow sashes secure a dark blue hakama around Klava's waist, while her bosom is wrapped in white cloth hemmed with magenta. Cerulean prayer beads hang from her neck, humming with spiritual power, and arcane tattoos are inscribed upon her arms to ward off the advance of evil. Her footwear remain impractical, timber getas elevated like high heels, with a golden bell suspended within the soles. It's no longer impossible to move in though, and the sharper corners allow for better gliding. GRADE: Silver PHYSICAL: E ARCANE: B CHAOS: C SPECIAL: Boreas's Caress – Klava's sashes, three meters in length, have some degree of prehensility and autonomy. While she is in motion, her sashes act to assist in her movements, snagging onto the environment or weaving together into temporary cushions to allow for sharp turns and quick deceleration or to cushion impacts. These sashes can be destroyed by an E-rank attack, recovering at the start of the next round. Genre:Glacial Stream – The freezing waters that Klava eloquently manipulates to disarm and restrain her foes are but precursors to the glacier-sized mass she bludgeons them with when mercy is off the table. GRADE: Silver ELEMENT: Aqua NOTES: [Freeze (2), Slick (2)] Damage (2), Restrain (4), Push (2), Extend (2), Construction (4), Craft (2), Mark (0), Blink (4), Bend (0) SPECIAL: Rime Rose – Klava's ice is as clear as glass and as enduring as permafrost. Elemental constructs formed from her Genre counts as one rank higher. LeitmotifGRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: Meltwater Spring – Klava's body and clothing remain clean no matter how dirty her surroundings or what attack she's struck by. 22 \| Female \| Freelancers \| Meltwater Spring Moya-no-Yume \| Dagger \| Physical \| Frosted Sheen Snowdrop Vestige \| Sangfroid Convention Glacial Stream \| Aqua \| Rime Rose [Freeze, Slick] Damage X, Restrain, Extend, Construction, Trap, Enhance, Mark, Blink, Powerful DAMAGE: D \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: E \| 750 PHYSICAL: E\| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 750</s> <\|message\|>Aria Sato, The Protector ARIA: THE PROTECTOR \| PSPD #11 Reporting to: G.E.M.I.N.I. Agents The teacher waved her last remaining student goodbye and watched him be driven off before shifting her attention to the Shimr app. A quick swipe and she was all set. With hands clasped tight around her keychain, she muttered a small prayer in her native tongue before her body dispersed into light, transforming into... ...a massive 8'0" suit of pure, leaden armor. On its back rested a massive shield that seemed to add on more to the giant suit's weight, but it seemed to not mind. Each of its weighted steps sounded heavily throughout the area, accompanied by a little jingle as the keychain attached to its cuirass shook. It showed up at the given assembly area stated in the app a little earlier than the meetup time. Tardiness was a no-no, after all. A slight whirring noise came as its metal head rotated left to right to scan the area. It was not hard for it to spot the three women standing together. One was heavily plated in armor, much like itself. It admired her shield, giving her an internal thumbs-up. The other seemed to have green hair- this, it was sure the little students would love to see. The third seemed apprehensive but had an air of seriousness about her, especially taking into account the rifle in her arms. The fourth stood relaxed, in a shiny, seemingly well-maintained suit of armor. The Protector hauled itself to the group, eager to meet its teammates. It towered over the trio and greeted politely: "Good evening, everyone. I am Protector." A deep, gravelly voice rumbled from within the confines of the helmeted suit of armor. "And you?" --- 20 \| Female \| The Freelancers \| Guardian Protector's Treaty \| Spear, Shield \| Arcane \| Aegis Protector's Stronghold \| Shelter Protector's Mandate \| Gravity \| Fortification [Weightless (4), Suspend X (4)], Blink (4), Restrain (4), Pull (2), AoE (2), Powerful (0), Shield (4) DAMAGE: D \| SPEED: E \| SENTINEL: B \| 500 PHYSICAL: D \| ARCANE: E \| CHAOS: D \| 500</s> <\|message\|>Jacqueline Leroux Jacqueline Leroux She was being driven to the precinct in what was basically a giant metal cage, and it was utterly silent. Jacqueline didn't show it, but she was bored. The only silver lining was that her esper outfit didn't make her all the more uncomfortable, despite logic dictating that wearing full plate should. Jay was glad to arrive at the location, because at least it got her out of the awkward, suffocating enclosed space. She surveyed the surroundings, hoping to catch signs of trouble – but there was nothing on the outside. She stood guard while she waited, gaze perfunctorily wandering here and there, just in case someone or something dangerous showed up. Jacqueline noted one of her co-workers, Valkyrie was as serious as ever. Not that she herself was lax, but Jay had recognized from working alongside her that the other woman took their duty very personally. She couldn't help but wonder if she could keep up being so stiff and inflexible even several years down the line. Should just worry about myself. Jacqueline let out a slightly longer exhale, then moved closer to where conversation between Breacher and Blinky ensued. "A few freelancers, huh. Don't have nothing against them, but it's annoying how we've no clue how many'll show up till they do. Oh, well." She ignored the part about Breacher's daughter, as she wasn't really interested. But she did pitch in at the end. "To a good one," she said simply. She shifted her war pick to her left, and offered her right to Blinky and Breacher. She didn't bother with Valkyrie, since she either wasn't interested or that weapon really was too cumbersome. A moment passed, and all was quiet again. "So, chance of monster involvement?" she asked idly. However, her tone indicated she didn't expect anything non-human this time. It wasn't long till their first Freelancer helper arrived. They were a giant suited-up soldier, and drew attention from far away. "Evenin'. Just call me Leroux. Pleasure to meet you," Jay introduced herself with a nod.</s> <\|message\|>Apollo Greit Apollo Greit The roar of six cylinders echoed against the concrete buildings. It certainly wasn't sneaky, but someone driving a car for assholes like an asshole was considerably less conspicuous than the government armoured vehicles that crept through the streets. Apollo certainly wasn't planning to work today. He was just out for a rip. However, a job on Shimr and government vehicles entering was at least interesting enough to show up. The aggressive car came to a stop some distance away as the engine's roar was replaced by equally aggressive music muffled by closed windows. As the music went silent alongside the engine, a large figure left the poorly parked car. With a shirt that was a size too small, aviators, and a golden necklace, he certainly didn't like a government stooge. In fact, he looked closer to one of the people who would have chosen to occupy a police station. Quickly, his aviators were removed and placed on the collar of his shirt. A second skin began to grow and cover his personal features. Though, his clothing was unaffected by this. There were already a couple of people there. It was pretty easy to tell which ones were freelancers and which ones were agents, even if he had never worked with or seen them before. Agents usually ended up looking the same. Though this time, it appeared there were two armoured persons. Well, it wasn't like like the armour actually did anything. The armour from the 8" giant did look sturdier than the other woman's, though. He approached the group with his phone in hand and the screen showing the Shimr job open and visible. His appearance as a faceless Adonis tended to get him questioned more than anything else. Letting others see that he was a freelancer was the best way to expedite the process of not getting questioned or tackled. Still, he introduced himself to the group. "I'm Apollo," he succinctly stated. "You can think of me as a healer, more or less." With it being a mystery of if that was his nickname or his actual name, he held out a fist for the giant to bump. Tall people had to stick together, even if the Protector undoubtedly got a few feet from their esper form. With his fist still extended, he glanced over to his right. Without missing a beat, his head quickly recoiled as a girl with a gun seemed to suddenly appear. Or was always there? Still shocked him. --- 24 \| Male \| Freelancer \| Bastard Restraining Order \| Spear \| Physical \| Unenforceable Second Skin \| Regrowth God Complex \| Light \| Give Him Thanks [Reveal (2), Purity (4)], Heal (16), Stabilize (0), Purify (6), Reflect (4), Damage X(6), Powerful (0), Trap (0), AoE (2), Full Extend (4) DAMAGE: E \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 750</s>	<\|message\|>Klava Pavlova 22 \| Female \| Freelancers \| Meltwater Spring Moya-no-Yume \| Dagger \| Physical \| Frosted Sheen Snowdrop Vestige \| Sangfroid Convention Glacial Stream \| Aqua \| Rime Rose [Freeze, Cold Insulation] Damage X, Restrain, Dispel, Rain, Trap, Enhance, Trigger, Blink, Powerful DAMAGE: D \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: E \| 750 PHYSICAL: E\| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 750 The roar of the muscle car, six cylinders blasting with dramatic aplomb, masked the sound of the rattling of a bike chain through its gears. In the aural shadow cast by Apollo's Douchecruiser, Klava cycled down the streets of Pax Septimus on her secondhand bike, dressed in a jumpsuit with an old toque keeping her head warm. City of Blood it may be, drenched in the misery of all its residents, but it was her home as well. Even before she became an Esper, Klava had cycled down these streets, had played in these parks, had studied in these schools and shopped in these stores. She knew how to live here, just as how so many others did. After all, Pax Septimus still had a population of citizens, no matter the sheer amount of villainy present within alleys, sewers, and basements. Pockets of comfort and safety existed, even if only psychologically, and though threads on Shimr had been blowing up recently about the disappearance of Bastion's leader and the massacre uncovered there, life aboveground remained the same it always has been…disregarding the power vacuum that was drawing the government back into this bloody city. Outsiders in fancy suits and shiny trucks, having sat on their hands for decades and only moving now that there was a chance to claim this miserable city for themselves. Klava certainly couldn't say that she was a fan of such opportunistic decision-making. But that was why she was working for them this time around, wasn't it? The squeaking of her brakes sounded in unison to the hiss of Apollo's engine. The musclefreak was well-known enough for being the only competent healer amongst Pax Septimus's freelancer community, while the sci-fi juggernaut known as the Protector had a reputation as well, one primarily based off jokes online of her armor being made out of paper. And as for the rest…well, of course Klava'd know nothing about them. They weren't even a thing in Pax Septimus a year ago, after all. "Hey," she waved, mimicking Apollo's moves with the whole 'flipping out Shimr app like a police badge' deal. "I'm not with stupid here, but I took the job too. Klava. Nice to meetcha. Got any complimentary snacks or a coffee machine somewhere? And where can I lock my bike?" Her eyes bounced from one of the government espers to another and one corner of her lips twitched into a smile. Two of them looked like girls from the university's anime club, while the third looked like someone who stepped out of a dark fantasy movie set. "A map of the precinct would be pretty cash too. I specc in traps and restraints."</s>
<\|description\|>Klava Pavlova 22 y/o \| Female \| 5'9 \| 148 lbs \| Freelancer ❄ GrimoireAn aquamarine prayer stick. The fortune on it reads, in Chinese characters, 'Calamitous Fortune'. It's been repurposed as a hairpin. InstrumentMoya-no-Yume – A dagger with a hilt long enough to be comfortably held in two hands. The construction of the handguard includes embellishments of carp and streams, while the fabric that wraps around the hilt is an aged indigo. The blade is unremarkable, but well-maintained. GRADE: Bronze KEYWORD: Dagger DAMAGE TYPE: Physical DAMAGE: D SPEED: C SENTINEL: E SPECIAL: Frosted Sheen – Moya-no-Yume's blade is cold to the touch, and in warmer temperatures will exude a faint mist. StyleImpermanence of Spring Snow – A modified variation of a shrine maiden's garments, featuring colors that evoke both the cold chill of winter and the vibrant colors of spring. Purple and yellow sashes secure a dark blue hakama around Klava's waist, while her bosom is wrapped in white cloth hemmed with magenta. Cerulean prayer beads hang from her neck, humming with spiritual power, and arcane tattoos are inscribed upon her arms to ward off the advance of evil. Her footwear remain impractical, timber getas elevated like high heels, with a golden bell suspended within the soles. It's no longer impossible to move in though, and the sharper corners allow for better gliding. GRADE: Silver PHYSICAL: E ARCANE: B CHAOS: C SPECIAL: Boreas's Caress – Klava's sashes, three meters in length, have some degree of prehensility and autonomy. While she is in motion, her sashes act to assist in her movements, snagging onto the environment or weaving together into temporary cushions to allow for sharp turns and quick deceleration or to cushion impacts. These sashes can be destroyed by an E-rank attack, recovering at the start of the next round. Genre:Glacial Stream – The freezing waters that Klava eloquently manipulates to disarm and restrain her foes are but precursors to the glacier-sized mass she bludgeons them with when mercy is off the table. GRADE: Silver ELEMENT: Aqua NOTES: [Freeze (2), Slick (2)] Damage (2), Restrain (4), Push (2), Extend (2), Construction (4), Craft (2), Mark (0), Blink (4), Bend (0) SPECIAL: Rime Rose – Klava's ice is as clear as glass and as enduring as permafrost. Elemental constructs formed from her Genre counts as one rank higher. LeitmotifGRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: Meltwater Spring – Klava's body and clothing remain clean no matter how dirty her surroundings or what attack she's struck by. 22 \| Female \| Freelancers \| Meltwater Spring Moya-no-Yume \| Dagger \| Physical \| Frosted Sheen Snowdrop Vestige \| Sangfroid Convention Glacial Stream \| Aqua \| Rime Rose [Freeze, Slick] Damage X, Restrain, Extend, Construction, Trap, Enhance, Mark, Blink, Powerful DAMAGE: D \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: E \| 750 PHYSICAL: E\| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 750</s> <\|message\|>Marrie Knight Marrie Knight Marrie puked up from the smell and was glad that she hadn't eaten today. "When I heard 'catacombs,' I didn't think I'd have to go through the sewers..." she managed to mumble before blowing all the air out of her mouth and quickly closing it, hoping to get the fumes out of her. She glanced at Pac-A-Fist, considering whether to ask if they were coming with, but decided it wasn't worth opening her mouth for. She thanked the gods that the catacombs weren't synonymous with the sewers, shook her head 'no' at Pac-A-Fist's question, and went through the opening. Sure, the Bates were likely to draw the snake's attention, but if they were headed the same way Marrie was, ultimately, then she'd probably end up fighting it. As soon as the smell went away she sighed at the thought, taking comfort in the thought that maybe it could talk and they could just work things out. But with the Bates being the way they seemed, especially the girl, that probably wasn't going to happen. She touched the wall next to the entrance and placed a portal on it, just to be safe. --- 19 \| Female \| Freelancer \| Misty Steps Apex Predator \| Dagger \| Physical \| Mirror Shine Wind-Carved Glacier \| Masking Step of the Hurricane \| Wind \| Riding the Currents [Storm (4), Flight (6)] Damage X (6), Slow Fall (4), Blink (4), Magic Sense (6), Heal (16), Portal (8), Rain (2), Bounce (0), If Foe (0) DAMAGE: E \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: C \| 750 Bronze Touch - Portal: -64 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 686</s> <\|message\|>Jacqueline Leroux Jacqueline Leroux Jacqueline was once again being driven somewhere, mildly bored. Still, the anticipation of an oncoming battle was enough to prevent her from dozing off. Even though she'd prefer to occupy herself somehow, professionalism prevented it. Otherwise, she might have pulled out her phone to play Tetris, or something. As it was, she'd spent some time by inspecting the agents around her. She supposed, after their dinner, she knew Su the best. Valkyrie, Silhouette, and Wukong had been there on the previous mission, but she'd only briefly interacted with Valkyrie. Orion was the newbie, so she'd not even met her yet. Maybe after this mission, she should try get to know some of the others. The tense awkwardness of this silence, where no one really knew another, and wasn't willing to make small talk – even if it would just be about mission related stuff – was annoying. Thankfully, that was when Binky briefed them on the situation. The way Jacqueline understood it, they'd be taking the front entrance, which would have been too risky under usual circumstances, but would now be rendered safer due to the recently captured blood mage. Jacqueline wondered if the woman was getting paid, or if she was doing that just to exercise her arcane muscles. It seemed to her that Binky mentioned the back entrance just to make it a point that's where they would have had to go if they hadn't the blood mage. Well, that, and to relate it to the information about the Maverick henchmen being their direct competitors this time. It was due to this supposition of hers, that she was entirely taken aback when the discussion of a vote began. "Quoi?" she expressed her confusion, in a rare occasion briefly falling back to her mother tongue. She shook her head, and looked from Valkyrie to Silhouette. "Who ever said anything about a vote?" though she'd glanced from one coworker to another, it was more or less a rhetorical question. Frowning, she thought back on what exactly Binky said. She realized that her words may imply a choice that was for them to make…But that was really unusual. For one, Jacqueline didn't believe she or any of her coworkers present here (with the exception of Binky) had the kind of clout to make such a decision. It wasn't just a minor here-or-there alteration of a mission parameter either. It was the kind of judgement that carried political weight. If they went through Bastion, Maverick's new base in Pax, wouldn't they be basically announcing they were ready and willing to take the whole of Maverick on? That seemed a bit premature in her opinion. For another, asking them to decide now wasn't in accordance to the rule of TPO. Only the occasion was somewhat (though questionably) appropriate. The time and place…Well, if they picked the front entrance, and the blood mage was neither willing nor ready to assist, what would be the point of them being made to choose or going exactly there in the first place? Finally, she looked towards Binky for clarification, raising her brows in wordless question. If they really were supposed to have the final start as to their entry point, she'd give her assent to a frontal assault. It was the more sensible option, for more than one reason. --- --- Havoc \| Great Axe \| Arcane \| Pry Eternal Knight \| Perfectly polished Forged Arsenal \| Earth/Metal \| Fissure [Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), AoE (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Shield (4) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: D \| SENTINEL: D \| 500 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: C \| CHAOS: D \| 500</s> <\|message\|>Ashley Avenir, The Knight of Tomorrow Ashley was filled with a mixture of eager excitement and nervous trepidation as the van made its way through the streets of Pax Septimus. Although she had run through a training course under Binky's supervision and recently taken part in her first field mission, alongside Agent Silhouette, this would be the first time she would be participating in an operation as part of a full G.E.M.I.N.I. team. Looking around the somewhat cramped van, Ashley glanced at each of her fellow agents in turn. She was already familiar with the green-haired Binky and the nightmarish (and endearingly studious) Silhouette, but she only knew the others from what she had learned from their personnel files. On the more experienced side, there was the tough, no-nonsense Dragon Breacher and the equally imposing armored woman beside her, Agent Leroux, one of the rare few agents that didn't use a codename. On the more youthful end of the scale were Agents Wukong and Valkyrie, an interesting pair, to say the least. Where the former, simian-themed young woman looked like a bundle of fidgety energy waiting to be unleashed, the latter seemed to be taking a nap, as though she were utterly unbothered by the impeding mission. Perhaps the enormous gauss rifle propped up against her was the source of the young agent's lack of concern, Ashley reflected. It was a truly fascinating weapon, to be sure, and Ashley made a mental note to ask her teammate about it once the current operation had safely concluded. That was about when the van hit a bump, and Binky used the attention-grabbing event to initiate a small pre-mission briefing. It was little more than a recap of what they already knew, but Ashley was thankful for the additional reminder. After all, one could never tell when an important detail might be forgotten. They had quite the challenge ahead of them, that much was abundantly clear, but dealing with threats like Justin von Carnage was the reason Ashley had joined G.E.M.I.N.I. in the first place. Thus, the Knight of Tomorrow was determined to support her teammates to the very best of her ability. Binky concluded her briefing by offering to answer any questions, at which point Valkyrie and Silhouette spoke up, both agreeing that a bold assault upon the front door was the best way to apprehend von Carnage in a timely manner. "That sounds like the most logical course of action to me, as well," Ashley chimed in, before Leroux inquired what all this talk of 'votes' was about. Yeah, that was a bit odd, Ashley reflected, but she didn't feel that this was the right time to address such an admittedly minor bit of confusion. There were far more pertinent matters she wished to have some additional clarification on. "Um, what sort of barrier will this 'blood mage' be providing?" the Knight of Tomorrow inquired. "In particular, can our own ranged melodies and weaponry be fired through it? And can it be walked through, by us, or our adversaries?" --- 18 \| Female \| GEMINI \| Vision of Tomorrow Implements of Tomorrow \| Wand, Shield \| Arcane \| Tune of Tomorrow Raiment of Tomorrow \| Stride of Tomorrow Light of Tomorrow \| Light \| Power of Tomorrow [Reveal (2), Purity (4)], Damage (2), Damage X (6), Shield (4), Reflect (4), Heal (6), Major Heal (18), AoE (2), Powerful (0), Piercing (2) DAMAGE: C \| SPEED: E \| SENTINEL: D \| 750 PHYSICAL: E \| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 750</s>	<\|message\|>Klava Pavlova 22 \| Female \| Freelancers \| Meltwater Spring Moya-no-Yume \| Dagger \| Physical \| Frosted Sheen Snowdrop Vestige \| Sangfroid Convention Glacial Stream \| Aqua \| Rime Rose [Freeze, Slick] Damage X, Restrain, Extend, Construction, Trap, Enhance, Mark, Blink, Powerful DAMAGE: D \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: E \| 750 PHYSICAL: E\| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 750 Of all the vehicles that had driven up to face the concrete barrier, there was one that stood out: a second-hand bicycle with a large bell and no light, the chosen steed of the Frost Maiden. Deciding to come to the party transformed this time around, Klava checked her reflection in Moya-no-Yume, ensuring that nothing was off, that none of the burn scars from her last run in with Sofron was still there. It looked good though. Perfectly clear and soothingly soft, with the charming plumpness of youth that all young ladies had. Ah, if only her Leitmotif persisted in her human form too, then maybe she wouldn't have to spend so much on her skin routine. Well, she could also cut down on her love for food, but where's the fun in that? Billy Black and the Mavericks all look suitably monstrous though, something that kept the freelancer on edge but only on edge. There was no point in stressing over what their enemies looked like, after all. The group that was actually invading was going to be freelancers and Maverick espers, so it was very much just a matter of 'attack things that aren't espers. And friendly faces were all around too! There was Fable, the surprisingly spunky but also 100% precocious kiddo, already putting on his approximation of a 'serious professional face, and there was ol' (well, no, it was pretty likely that Protector was actually younger than her) Pro, a hulk in a coffin of metal, bristling with restrained threat. Apollo must be somewhere as well, though she hadn't caught a glimpse of his dime-bouncing butt yet. As she began her own stretches in preparation for vampire-asskicking, Klava asked the decisive question: "So, Billy, there gonna be on-site catering after this? That mansion looks like it could host a whole party, if ya catch my drift."</s>
<\|description\|>Klava Pavlova 22 y/o \| Female \| 5'9 \| 148 lbs \| Freelancer ❄ GrimoireAn aquamarine prayer stick. The fortune on it reads, in Chinese characters, 'Calamitous Fortune'. It's been repurposed as a hairpin. InstrumentMoya-no-Yume – A dagger with a hilt long enough to be comfortably held in two hands. The construction of the handguard includes embellishments of carp and streams, while the fabric that wraps around the hilt is an aged indigo. The blade is unremarkable, but well-maintained. GRADE: Bronze KEYWORD: Dagger DAMAGE TYPE: Physical DAMAGE: D SPEED: C SENTINEL: E SPECIAL: Frosted Sheen – Moya-no-Yume's blade is cold to the touch, and in warmer temperatures will exude a faint mist. StyleImpermanence of Spring Snow – A modified variation of a shrine maiden's garments, featuring colors that evoke both the cold chill of winter and the vibrant colors of spring. Purple and yellow sashes secure a dark blue hakama around Klava's waist, while her bosom is wrapped in white cloth hemmed with magenta. Cerulean prayer beads hang from her neck, humming with spiritual power, and arcane tattoos are inscribed upon her arms to ward off the advance of evil. Her footwear remain impractical, timber getas elevated like high heels, with a golden bell suspended within the soles. It's no longer impossible to move in though, and the sharper corners allow for better gliding. GRADE: Silver PHYSICAL: E ARCANE: B CHAOS: C SPECIAL: Boreas's Caress – Klava's sashes, three meters in length, have some degree of prehensility and autonomy. While she is in motion, her sashes act to assist in her movements, snagging onto the environment or weaving together into temporary cushions to allow for sharp turns and quick deceleration or to cushion impacts. These sashes can be destroyed by an E-rank attack, recovering at the start of the next round. Genre:Glacial Stream – The freezing waters that Klava eloquently manipulates to disarm and restrain her foes are but precursors to the glacier-sized mass she bludgeons them with when mercy is off the table. GRADE: Silver ELEMENT: Aqua NOTES: [Freeze (2), Slick (2)] Damage (2), Restrain (4), Push (2), Extend (2), Construction (4), Craft (2), Mark (0), Blink (4), Bend (0) SPECIAL: Rime Rose – Klava's ice is as clear as glass and as enduring as permafrost. Elemental constructs formed from her Genre counts as one rank higher. LeitmotifGRADE: Bronze SPECIAL: Meltwater Spring – Klava's body and clothing remain clean no matter how dirty her surroundings or what attack she's struck by. 22 \| Female \| Freelancers \| Meltwater Spring Moya-no-Yume \| Dagger \| Physical \| Frosted Sheen Snowdrop Vestige \| Sangfroid Convention Glacial Stream \| Aqua \| Rime Rose [Freeze, Slick] Damage X, Restrain, Extend, Construction, Trap, Enhance, Mark, Blink, Powerful DAMAGE: D \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: E \| 750 PHYSICAL: E\| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 750</s> <\|message\|>SILMERIA MAGNUSSON --Mission Report: Inconclusive-- Phew... Much to her genuine relief, Protector could indeed see reason and decided that the children were worth her life more than Billy's lofty ambitions, what with the Freelancers' original goal of slaying Justin and rescuing this Betty no longer an option. As things stood, it was just the White WBitch left and though it had just been an inkling before, the brunette's confidence that Maiden was both freelancer and Maverick terrorist was growing stronger by the second. This... bloodthirsty need for vengeance, she couldn't deny it, a primal part of her urged her to tie up loose ends, one by one; Viper, Lenore, Maiden... all must die. Thus, it came as a bit confusing when Dr. Fritzi - who had transformed into Vermilion Veronica - gave a direct order to the sniper to... hold her fire out of all things. Valkyrie blinked once, and considering her habit of not doing that at all whenever she's in esper form, the seemingly minor gesture spoke a thousand words. Every inch of her except her vocal cords were screaming in barely-restrained protest, the faux stoic look of an internally screaming woman. However, in the end, the incentives of her employment won out against her desire to murder Klava. And besides, just to make herself feel better about it, she entertained the thought that Lady Vermillion had something sneaky up her frilly sleeves. That wink again... what is it with these people and winks? Silmeria mused as impassive orange stared against dimly-glowing red. Thus, when Faceless Douchebag's arcane light went out, Valkyrie stood still even as Leroux warned her that an enemy was nearby, index finger engaging trigger discipline. She trusted her two melee-focused comrades to intercept the escaping terrorists - White Bitch included - and just watched the show as Orion's beam magnum shattered said Frost Fuck's sorry excuse of modern art (Still better than Justin's boar bestiality sculpture though). She exhaled a slow heavy sigh, regretting the fact that she could've shot Maiden's literal ass during that generous window of light provided by the Knight of Tomorrow's Melody. Hey, those motherfuckers were running in a straight line with their backs turned to a railgun sniper after all, but orders were orders. After the tangoes were out of sight, Valkyrie just waited with the rest of the team while Veronica, Leroux, and Wukong gave chase. A few moments later, the pursuers returned... but without Billy in their hands, although they did nab someone else, Jezebel by the looks of things, one of Maverick's officers. Well, she wasn't Billy, yes, but each neutralized or captured traitor of humanity was a win for all civilized folks. Flightless Angel, what an apt name, they certainly wouldn't be flying once their wings are clipped, hopefully she'd get the electric chair after GEMINI extracted all the information they could to hunt down the rest of her kind. That look, that delicious glaring look, yes, she loved an enemy who made it all the easier to dehumanize them. "I'm sure this won't be the last time we'll see Justin's coven and the Mavericks," The sniper esper raised a little shrug, "I can vouch for Protector at least, I believe she truly only wanted to save the innocent, same with that steampunk kid. However, I believe it's obvious by now that the ice bitch is a Maverick... subhuman scum just like Viper and Lenore." Her calm voice was practically bubbling with vengeful fury just underneath the surface before it relaxed back to neutral stoicism without much fanfare, "Affirmative, Doctor." Intent on following the order, Valkyrie disengaged esper form, her signature electromagnetic railgun and plain brown jacket vanishing into orange sparks. Then she simply departed from the mission area, preferably with the rest of the team, she could use some coffee and ice cream, yeah, coffee-flavored ice cream maybe? Yeah that'd be nice. Although it looked like Silhouette would need to be spoonfed... --- 21 \| Female \| G.E.M.I.N.I. \| The Faceless Teslic Gauss \| Long Gun \| Physical \| Nibelung Valesti Northern Sentinel \| Government Agent Electromagnetism \| Lightning \| Static Shock [Paralysis (4), Speedster (4)], Damage (2), Damage X (6), Push (2), Pull (2), Piercing (2), Bend (0) DAMAGE: B \| SPEED: E \| SENTINEL: C \| Max Mana: 500 PHYSICAL: D \| ARCANE: E \| CHAOS: D \| Current Mana: 16</s> <\|message\|>Aria Sato, The Protector ARIA: THE PROTECTOR \| The Mavericks Moving to: Billy Black, Klava, Kristina, and Luna (if she's still around) --- "..." The Protector was at a loss. Damn it all-- in English even! Why did it have to come out from this side of the mansion? The exasperated suit of armor scratched the back of its helmet, a little bit frustrated that it made the decision to make this exit without having a halfway-decent plan about how to return to those kids. One thing was for sure-- the garage door entrance they found was accessed through the underground... so, the subway was out of the question, being a good ten or fifteen kilometers into the city. It rushed here by bus, and so it really needed to take a moment to jog its memory back while it sprinted all the way around the mansion. Once reaching a very rough above-ground estimate of where the garage heading into the wine cellar was, the Protector looked around. There were no obvious entrances into the inner workings of the underground labyrinth, but... there was a manhole. It rushed to it, questioning if its strength would be enough to open the thing before it realized it was still in its esper form. Quickly, it held its shield over the cover, its gravitational pull lifting the manhole lid with surprising ease. Obstruction cleared, it secured its shield to its back and made its way down the ladder, hoping for the best. It was dark, it was damp, and it was hella cramped. There was no way it would detransform, though. Not with all the muck and moisture. The esper couldn't have been more thankful for its suit of armor; clearly, its privileged upbringing didn't ever oversee its willing entrance into any city's underbelly. Yet, there it was. The things it'd do for children, after all. So it sucked it up and just tried its damn best to move fast without slipping.</s>	<\|message\|>Klava Pavlova 22 \| Female \| Freelancers \| Meltwater Spring Moya-no-Yume \| Dagger \| Physical \| Frosted Sheen Snowdrop Vestige \| Sangfroid Convention Glacial Stream \| Aqua \| Rime Rose [Freeze, Slick] Damage X, Restrain, Extend, Construction, Trap, Enhance, Mark, Blink, Powerful DAMAGE: D \| SPEED: C \| SENTINEL: E \| 750 PHYSICAL: E\| ARCANE: D \| CHAOS: C \| 14 There was probably a pessimistic part of Klava's mind that figured that they'd all be dead regardless. Blasted to bits when the Fritz decides that she could just get a construction crew to clean up the debris after all, and call in an airstrike from the good ol' US Air Force instead. Even if Billy could survive it, he wouldn't have his angels left over to watch his ass from the Fritz's magical bullshit. And then it'd be all extra over. Even a couple of snipers positioned to start blasting through the windows would do it. One didn't need an instrument to fuck an Esper up if their gun was of sufficient caliber. Klava had positioned herself close to Billy for that express purpose, imagining all the batshit things that self-righteousness government spooks could do to secure some semblance of victory after their squad had a hilarious fuck up. But the worst cases never manifested, and it was only when they dropped down into the wine cellar, moments away from being able to escape the Bastion, that Klava realized that one of them was missing. The only one who she didn't know, really. So personally, no big loss. Billy took the kids. Tetrad took off. Klava remained there with Kristina for a moment longer, then let out a long, deflating groan. Fuck that wasn't smart of her. Too caught up in the moment once again, too focused on being herself rather than being fucking alive. Oh, long term consequences, what were those? God, imagine if she had just shanked that butler a week or two back, then GEMINI could just be like "lol mission accomplished, we'll let y'all go this time" instead. Fucking bullshit, for real. Such incredible cringe. Just totally built different, wasn't she? And a dick? Seriously? Had the whole medieval weaponry and architecture theme going, and she just went and bungled it for an adolescent joke? What was she, 15? Yeah, she was definitely going to sleep on it. No regrets, of course, because GEMINI are still a buncha rat bastards, but there were a dozen ways she could've approached this. "Trixy, huh," Klava said. It looked like it fit more. Maybe. She rubbed the palm of her left hand against her eyes, then made her way down to Bastion as well. "So, what was that thing about eating babies that those GEMs were saying?"</s>
<\|description\|>Willow Simone Dendry W I L L O W --- BASIC INFO --- Age: 18 Year: Senior Gender: Female APPEARANCE: --- Height: 5'7 Weight: 71 lbs Skin Color: White. Literal white. Physical Description: A pale ghost of a girl. Average height, thin build. No meat or muscles at all. Skin and hair, all colorless. Big eyes, white like her skin, save the pupils and pitch black sclera. Button nose, thin lips, wavy hair going down to her neck. Clothing: Dark tops. Dark pants. Lots of grays and navy blues. Never anything too bright. Likes big coats with fur on them. The kind old ladies would wear. Voice: Soft. Quiet. Weak, almost. When she's a ghost, it has an echo to it. PERSONALITY: --- Character Traits: Silent and observant. Strange in the eyes of strangers. Always has a smile on her face. Perfectly content with being alone, but doesn't scorn companionship. Seldom the one who speaks to someone else first. Talks sparingly, but with kind words - if at times, odd words. Blunt statements. Flowery language comes out when she likes someone. Bad parts. Curious. Too curious, sometimes. Explores places she's not supposed to explore. Thinks she can't be touched. Ghosts everything. Doesn't take dangerous things seriously. Lacks long-term goals. No aspirations - just living in the moment. Bonds: Seeing the world and the people in it. Spending a little bit of time with friends. Helping her father around the workplace. Small things. Activities: Writing. Drawing. She has a little journal full of short stories, poems, and sketches. Loves to craft with the antiques at home, sometimes reads some of the old books too. Goes shopping for new coats every now and then. Explores abandoned, condemned, or otherwise unoccupied unoccupied buildings. Skills: Artsy things. The written word. Pencil sketches. Good at cleaning and sorting the antiques at home. Picked up a knack for staying out of sight when she wants to. BACKSTORY --- Backstory: A man and a woman - Lloyd and Esther Dendry - had a child eighteen years ago, after the great light shone over Leesburgh. Abnormalities in the pregnancy, right away. Couldn't see her in the ultrasound. Pressure fluctuations in the mother's womb. Couldn't have guessed the baby girl would float freely out of it, see-through. Her skin all white, her cries all echoing. Suddenly she solidifies, drops to the floor - a doctor catches her. Father always loved the strange and supernatural. Excited for what was happening. Mother feared it. Fear quickly turned to hate with the new wave of eventful births around town. Babies born floating. Crackling with electricity. Scales and tails. Willow's mother couldn't show any love to her. Got mad at her. Threatened to hurt her, and other children too. Lashed out at her husband. Said she wanted it to stop. Said she was afraid of them all. Swung a knife around one night, got taken away after that. Spent a few years locked up. Found dead in her room one morning. Aneurysm. Willow was only three during the funeral. Life went on. Willow got older. Learned to shift back and forth freely. Helped her father around the Rustic Palace. Developed a love of antiques and creativity. Moved into the shop when the house got sold. Went to school. Feared the bullies, kids and grown-ups, throwing stones at her. Learned to ghost the stones and stopped being afraid. Let all the dangers of the world pass right through her. Let nasty words go ignored. Stopped thinking about her mother. Started to smile again. POWERS: --- Description: Incorporeality. The power to become intangible, weightless, translucent. Can fly freely through the air. Pass through solid matter. Takes her clothes and small possessions with her into the ether. Gives people shivers when she passes through them, like a cold specter. When physical, she's floaty. Jumps higher than others. Falls slower. Gravity is kinder to her. Limitations: Ghosting takes energy. Can't stay intangible forever. One hour, no breaks, before passing out. Can't be asleep and intangible at the same time. Can't shift back to tangible if she's still caught in something, even by a toe. Weaknesses: Heat. Fire. High temperatures. Disrupts the shifting process. Forces her back to corporeality. Other Information: Nothing for now. SCHOOLING --- Favorite Subject: Fine Art 3. Least-Favorite Subject: Science. Grades: As in art and literature. Bs and (mostly) Cs make up the rest. Not the best student. Embarrassing Moment: Sophomore year. Shifting through the school. Accidentally found herself in the boys' locker room during senior gym class. Lots of looks. Took her a moment to flee. Only time anyone's ever seen her blush.</s> <\|message\|>Elodie "Elle" Miller Elle Miller --- It was only a few minutes until the bell, but the students of Mr. Franklin's last U.S. History class of the day were already packing their bags. Elle was among them, but she still listened as he half-heartedly announced that they'd have the weekend to do the worksheet he provided not ten minutes prior. Most of the class hadn't even given the worksheet a second thought, but Elle was now sticking the already completed assignment into a folder for safe keeping. This class was nothing short of boring to her. Mr. Franklin was the type to cover the entire syllabus, but with as little enthusiasm as possible. The most energy she'd seen come from the man was when he went into tangents about what "really" happened in history instead of the sugar-coated, American loving version of events. At this point Elle showed to the class for the grade and not for the teacher himself. As the announcement began Elle chose to sit back in her seat and stare out of the window. The three day weekend wasn't that thrilling after only one week of school, but she was looking forward to the quiet at the house. Pete, her step-dad, and her mother were going on a weekend trip out of town for the holiday. This meant that Elle could come and go from the house as much as she pleased without any judgement or harassment. She was excited to have the house to herself, even if she wasn't going to spend much time there. She just had to hope that Pete left some money for food on the table and forgot to lock up her mom's stash of liquor. That's all she needed from them, really. She wasn't even going to bother with seeing them before they left today. In fact, she was pretty sure that Pete mentioned he was leaving work early today to get started on their drive. They were most likely out of town by now. Elle felt like a weight had lifted from her shoulders at that thought. A weekend without Pete, and a weekend without her mother's inebriated behavior. This thought was already out of her mind as she stepped into the hallway. Elle slipped through the bustling hall without much notice. The perks of being a small fry, she assumed. As she approached her locker she heard some girls talking about Rad-Chad's birthday party on Sunday night. Elle reached for her skateboard as she listened. It didn't sound like the company at the party would be worth anything, but all Elle really heard about it was that there would be free food and drinks. Which meant that it would be a perfect way to spend her Sunday night. She knew little about Chad himself, but she did know that there was always something going on at his parties that made them worthwhile. With that decision made, Elle tucked her board under her arm and made her way out of the front doors. As she stepped outside Elle took a moment to observe the chaos in the parking lot. She took a deep breath of the crisp autumn air and had a moment of peace within the gentle breeze of the day. Her shoulders went slack and she closed her eyes briefly. She could feel the warmth of the sun against her cheeks. Something about the day just seemed… oddly too perfect. Elle opened her eyes again and turned towards the source of the breeze. She then glimpsed none other than Evelyn Noblezada walking past. Of course. Elle thought with a small smirk. While Evelyn's aura made her feel like a new person, giddy and excited to be alive, Elle knew better than to act on those impulses with Evelyn around. She wasn't as susceptible to Evelyn's charm as the rest of the student body, despite the girl's alluring power. Evelyn was a charming snake and Elle knew to take her seriously. Before she could be consumed by Evelyn's energy, Elle turned and left the zone of surrealness to head towards home. She knew she was out of Evelyn's range as soon as sobriety hit her like a breath of fresh September air. Elle took advantage of the lingering energy from Evelyn's passing and decided to take the long way home on her skateboard. Not before sticking her headphones in her ears and hitting shuffle on her shitty little black iPod nano. The music began to play, and Elle took to her board down the streets of Leesburgh.</s> <\|message\|>Helen Hart --- H E L E N --- Helen jumped as Willow's ghostly-pale face appeared through the car door. All these years of friendship and that still freaked her out sometimes. Helen laughed it off and put on her seat belt as Willow got situated. It took a minute to get Doug going, but after several key turns and the sound of a smoker coughing into a megaphone, the car sprung to life. WLEE, the local radio station, was playing Superbass Nicki Minaj. Helen turned the song up and wound down the windows. Slowly, she waited her turn in the line of cars that mobbed their way out of the parking lot: a Honda, two Toyotas, Chad Charles' obnoxiously yellow BMW. Eventually, Doug groaned its way out of the parking space and into line. "How are you doing love?" Helen asked Willow as they sat in the traffic. B.O.B's musical stylings still floated through the air from the back of a Jeep Wrangler that no less than seven members of the soccer team had packed into. As Helen drove out of the parking lot, she felt a warm breeze flow in through the window, despite the autumn chill. She saw the source up ahead: standing by the side of the road was Evelyn Noblezada. 'That bitch, Helen thought, afraid that if she said it out loud Evelyn would hear. Nobody needed a primer on reasons to dislike Evelyn- she had made Helen cry a minimum of three times just in the sixth grade, and this was actually a little below average for tween girls at Moore Middle School. Poor Kelly ended up spending lunch in the bathroom every day out of fear of running into Evelyn at the lunch table. The worst part about Evelyn Noblezada, though, was that Helen couldn't stop looking at her. She was just so...hot: stupid perfect makeup, stupid smooth caramel skin, stupid pretty eyes, stupid toned soccer legs that Helen would love nothing more than to... There was a shout. Helen instinctually slammed on the brakes. Her eyes shot up to see that she had come within inches of hitting Letitia Green. Doug's bumper was hanging over the edge of the sidewalk and a conga line of traffic was piling up behind it. Helen's eyes opened wide as dinner plates. "Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod I'm so sorry Tish!" she yelled through the open window. "Dude, fucking look where you're going!" the surprisingly tall and muscular Letitia said. Her face was more shock and fear than anger. Her green skin was covered in a sheen of cold sweat and her chest heaved with adrenaline. As Letitia grabbed her backpack (which she'd dropped in the panic), she kicked out at Doug, striking the bumper and leaving a Size 13 dent. Then she stomped past and off into the parking lot. Helen blinked hard. She slowly reversed the car and then drove off down the bus loop and onto Gaiman Street, her skin even paler than normal and her eyes wide open and glued to the road. "Uh...sorry about that," she said to Willow.</s>	<\|message\|>Willow Simone Dendry 𝕎 𝕚 𝕝 𝕝 𝕠 𝕨 "It's okay," Willow replies calmly to Helen. She went unfazed towards the near-collision - like she does towards everything. She passes a glance at Evelyn Noblezada a ways from the car. The two of them had never formally met. Willow has a drawing of her in her journal, done sometime last year. It's her, surrounded by little birds and flowers, the tagline 'The world seems brighter with her around' at the bottom. Evelyn has never seen this drawing, and chances are, she never will. Willow's not her people. She sits in silence as Helen carries on the journey. The thought crosses her mind to check her messages while she's along for the ride, on her small, years-old keypad phone, the make and model of which completely escapes her. It's just a phone to her - not really her phone, just one that's always readily available. It's a way of thinking no one shares with her. Two new messages. The first is from her father, Lloyd. > It finally happened. She smiles at the words. And then she looks at the second message, from Dexter Quinto. > Charles' party on Sunday? Before Dexter's sister Tara had died, Willow had drawn a picture of her on a whim. Sometime after she had gone, Willow walked up to a lone Dexter and wordlessly handed him the picture, with a smile on her face. Since then, the two have kept up contact - they weren't very close, but Dexter never completely forgot about her. And she liked that. She smiles, and thumbs five buttons into a response. > Okay!</s>
<\|description\|>Willow Simone Dendry W I L L O W --- BASIC INFO --- Age: 18 Year: Senior Gender: Female APPEARANCE: --- Height: 5'7 Weight: 71 lbs Skin Color: White. Literal white. Physical Description: A pale ghost of a girl. Average height, thin build. No meat or muscles at all. Skin and hair, all colorless. Big eyes, white like her skin, save the pupils and pitch black sclera. Button nose, thin lips, wavy hair going down to her neck. Clothing: Dark tops. Dark pants. Lots of grays and navy blues. Never anything too bright. Likes big coats with fur on them. The kind old ladies would wear. Voice: Soft. Quiet. Weak, almost. When she's a ghost, it has an echo to it. PERSONALITY: --- Character Traits: Silent and observant. Strange in the eyes of strangers. Always has a smile on her face. Perfectly content with being alone, but doesn't scorn companionship. Seldom the one who speaks to someone else first. Talks sparingly, but with kind words - if at times, odd words. Blunt statements. Flowery language comes out when she likes someone. Bad parts. Curious. Too curious, sometimes. Explores places she's not supposed to explore. Thinks she can't be touched. Ghosts everything. Doesn't take dangerous things seriously. Lacks long-term goals. No aspirations - just living in the moment. Bonds: Seeing the world and the people in it. Spending a little bit of time with friends. Helping her father around the workplace. Small things. Activities: Writing. Drawing. She has a little journal full of short stories, poems, and sketches. Loves to craft with the antiques at home, sometimes reads some of the old books too. Goes shopping for new coats every now and then. Explores abandoned, condemned, or otherwise unoccupied unoccupied buildings. Skills: Artsy things. The written word. Pencil sketches. Good at cleaning and sorting the antiques at home. Picked up a knack for staying out of sight when she wants to. BACKSTORY --- Backstory: A man and a woman - Lloyd and Esther Dendry - had a child eighteen years ago, after the great light shone over Leesburgh. Abnormalities in the pregnancy, right away. Couldn't see her in the ultrasound. Pressure fluctuations in the mother's womb. Couldn't have guessed the baby girl would float freely out of it, see-through. Her skin all white, her cries all echoing. Suddenly she solidifies, drops to the floor - a doctor catches her. Father always loved the strange and supernatural. Excited for what was happening. Mother feared it. Fear quickly turned to hate with the new wave of eventful births around town. Babies born floating. Crackling with electricity. Scales and tails. Willow's mother couldn't show any love to her. Got mad at her. Threatened to hurt her, and other children too. Lashed out at her husband. Said she wanted it to stop. Said she was afraid of them all. Swung a knife around one night, got taken away after that. Spent a few years locked up. Found dead in her room one morning. Aneurysm. Willow was only three during the funeral. Life went on. Willow got older. Learned to shift back and forth freely. Helped her father around the Rustic Palace. Developed a love of antiques and creativity. Moved into the shop when the house got sold. Went to school. Feared the bullies, kids and grown-ups, throwing stones at her. Learned to ghost the stones and stopped being afraid. Let all the dangers of the world pass right through her. Let nasty words go ignored. Stopped thinking about her mother. Started to smile again. POWERS: --- Description: Incorporeality. The power to become intangible, weightless, translucent. Can fly freely through the air. Pass through solid matter. Takes her clothes and small possessions with her into the ether. Gives people shivers when she passes through them, like a cold specter. When physical, she's floaty. Jumps higher than others. Falls slower. Gravity is kinder to her. Limitations: Ghosting takes energy. Can't stay intangible forever. One hour, no breaks, before passing out. Can't be asleep and intangible at the same time. Can't shift back to tangible if she's still caught in something, even by a toe. Weaknesses: Heat. Fire. High temperatures. Disrupts the shifting process. Forces her back to corporeality. Other Information: Nothing for now. SCHOOLING --- Favorite Subject: Fine Art 3. Least-Favorite Subject: Science. Grades: As in art and literature. Bs and (mostly) Cs make up the rest. Not the best student. Embarrassing Moment: Sophomore year. Shifting through the school. Accidentally found herself in the boys' locker room during senior gym class. Lots of looks. Took her a moment to flee. Only time anyone's ever seen her blush.</s> <\|message\|>Willow Simone Dendry 𝕎 𝕚 𝕝 𝕝 𝕠 𝕨 "I saw it flee the scene," Willow replied to Elle's inquiry, "It melded with one of the sewer pipes and traveled down the tunnel. I have no idea where it could have gone, but…" She paused for a moment to gather her words, adjusting herself as Helen began to doze off a bit with her head resting on Willow's shoulder. "I could explore the sewers well enough on my own," she began plainly, "no need to open any manholes. I don't know who would want to come with me, it's very filthy down there. But we'd have to find a proper entrance if so." She really doesn't have a plan. But jumping blindly into the sewers seemed like an alright place to start. Hopefully someone else chimes in with a better idea - where to start looking, what to bring with them - because Willows was getting too caught up in imagining what they could possibly find down there, and how dangerous it could be. And what to tell her father, of course. "Does anyone know the tunnel network very well?"</s> <\|message\|>Helen Hart Monday, September 6th, 2010 Labor Day (apparently this scene is an Apple commercial) Helen spent her day off mostly lying in bed, her head aching from the last night's drinking and smoking. She nearly threw up shortly after waking up, though was able to pull herself together afterwards. She drank two liters of water and ate a plate of fried plantains with vegan bacon. Then she laid back down in bed, stretching out over the pink and green striped covers. The walls of Helen's room were a pale sage, and art decorated as much space as it could: band posters, flower presses, a year-old wall calendar. To the left of her pink and white desk, dozens of Willow's drawings (as well as a few of her own) plastered the wall. On the back of the door was a black poster with a large white pentagram in the middle. Around it were the words: "God and Goddess Wise and True Guide Me Now In All I Do." After several more hours sleeping off the hangover, Helen finally got dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a dark yellow tank top. She put on her hiking shoes and packed her backpack, which was green and polka-dotted with small yellow and pink flowers. She began to pack her bag. Into it she stuffed a phone charger, a bottle of water, a Nature Valley Bar, a pair of gardening gloves, and a small pocket knife. She stuffed a travel-size can of pepper spray into her pocket, as well as her phone and her keys. She laced up her brown hiking boots and wandered out of her bedroom towards the living room. Helen's mom, Cassie, was sitting on the sofa, drinking a glass of wine with her feet up on a cushion. A rerun of Friends was on TV. "Hey honey," Cassie said. "Have you finally decided to become nocturnal?" Helen sighed--it was only 5 o'clock and the sun was high in the sky, but her mom had a point. "Nah," she said. "I just had a really bad headache this morning." "I figured," Cassie said. "You must have been trashed last night." "Mom!" Helen said, her face flushing red. "Oh come on honey," Cassie replied. "When Willow brought you home last night she practically had to carry you through the front door and you reeked of weed." Helen looked down at her shoes, embarrassed. Her mom had this way of trying to be relatable that only served to make Helen feel more embarrassed when she did something she wasn't supposed to. Maybe that was the point. "You just need to be careful sweetie," Cassie said. "I don't want you to get arrested or something!" "Mom I'm not gonna get arrested," Helen said. "Nobody cares about weed anymore--it's not the 1970s. Okaaaay," Cassie said singsongedly. "So now that you've risen from your slumber, where are you heading? Back to Willow's?" "Yeah, probably," Helen said, disguising her lie by looking down at her phone. Cassie smiled, her cheeks slightly pink from the wine getting to her. "Awww," she said. "You two are so cute together! I'm so happy for you!" "Mooooom," Helen said. "You know it's not like that. Willow is just-" "I know, I know," Cassie replied. "I'm just teasing you! It's my job as your mom!" Helen rolled her eyes and moved for the door. "I'll be back later," Helen said. "Love you mom." "Love you too honey!" Cassie called out. "Don't make bad decisions!" Helen groaned. She felt like she had already made a bad decision by walking out the front door. --- 6:00 PM The waste tunnel sat at the end of a gravel access road off of Mount Gray Boulevard, about half a mile out of town. A wild and unkempt field stretched around the ditch, brambles and grasses and wildflowers all tangling with each other. The side of the road was littered with broken glass, chunks of asphalt, and the occasional heroin needle. Down the road, an abandoned construction site sat in an alcove, a mess of rusty rebar and jersey walls. Doug, Helen's car, crunched through all of the debris on the roadside as it pulled onto the access road and down to the waste tunnel. The tunnel was built into a small ridge. It consisted of a heavy iron grate about the diameter of a person. A heavy iron padlock held the grate shut. To the left of the ridge and the grate, a rusting silo moldered, standing like some kind of scrap metal obelisk. A wall of scraggly trees disguised the tunnel from the main road, and if you didn't know where to look you'd have never known it was there. The day was cloudy, and a slight drizzle tapped on the windshield. Helen pulled onto the side of the access road, Doug's tires squelching as it sunk into the mud. She sighed, looking out at the scene before her. It looked like she and Willow were the first ones there. She checked her watch: 6:00 on the dot. Where was everyone? Did they chicken out? It would make sense for them to have--this was a terrible idea. Helen turned Doug off and reclined her seat to look up at the cloth ceiling. Her stomach was a mess of knots and her arms were numb with fear. Helen was the kind of kid who did rebellious things just to get under the skin of grown-ups who acted like they had sticks up their ass. She was certain she would not do well in juvenile detention if they got caught. "I'm not sure how good of an idea this is Will," Helen said. "We really aren't supposed to be here…"</s>	<\|message\|>Willow Simone Dendry 𝕎 𝕚 𝕝 𝕝 𝕠 𝕨 "Yes we are," Willow responds plainly. She smiles a bit as she stares at the large, open waste tunnel entrance in the distance. "It just doesn't feel like it yet." She had assembled herself in preparation for the sewage-sifting. A heavy, grey, hooded nylon coat, clearly a little too big for her, going down to her knees. An old pair of ski goggles and a black cloth hung around her neck. A pair of black gloves, duct-taped around her coat's cuffs - she doesn't want to risk any filth getting on her, whenever she may have to stay corporeal. A pair of black snow pants and rubber boots, similarly duct taped (with a bit of difficulty, given their heftiness). An unawares bystander might think she's going on an extended expedition in the Yukon. Or part of a team of amateur jewel thieves. Or that it's just part of the 'standard Willow weirdness'. Doesn't matter. Did she over-prepare a little as someone who can phase through walls and sewer muck? Maybe. But she feels glad that she did - the preparation makes the occasion feel all the more important. And exciting.</s>
<\|description\|>Jiugui The Wine Demon \| The Unquenchable Thirst \| The Rose-Cheeked God Aspect - Wine Wine - that most flavourful and ruinous substance. All throughout history, this drink of water and yeasted sugars has been a source of great joy and celebration, and terrible downfalls and loss of face. The effects of wine on the body are well-known: The senses begin to dull; the skin begins to warm; one's vision may start to blur; and one's courage may grow to irregular proportions. For every sip of the potion, one's neighbour seems just a little more interesting, a little more attractive. Friendships feel stronger; the tongue grows looser; passions bubble forth to the surface. Suddenly, you can sing; you can write; you can dance. You are the centre of the celebration, and everyone's eyes are on you! Then the dream shatters. It is morning. The light of midday assaults your crusted eyes like rays of sharpened steel. You blink (or try to, anyway) and assign every single ounce of energy in your body to your sore abdominal muscles - you have to get up. You look around - this isn't your room. This isn't your house. You look down and your face drains of blood. That's your best friend's husband, but you are not at your best friend's house, either. You stumble to get dressed, but finding your clothes is a treasure hunt in and of itself. While you search, your friend's husband awakens. You ask what happened, but he is in shock. The door opens to reveal your friend, your husband, the village chieftain and many others. The chastise begins, paining your mind even worse than the headache: You called the chieftain a fat swine; you vomited in your husband's lap; you punched the neighbour's son and poked his eye out; you escaped into the woods and forced the whole village to call off the feast to search for you; only to find you here, sleeping with a man who had not participated as part of his vow of temperance. You try to blame it on the wine - a worthless argument. You are tossed in a cell for the day - that'll show you. Jiugui can turn any grain, fruit, vegetable, plant substance or animal product with enough sugar content into wine. He can even turn water into wine and can unnatural amounts of wine from small amounts of raw materials. The power of wine is the power to intoxicate through the medium of yeasted drink. Intoxication implies the above-mentioned symptoms - a little will give the target an exciting buzz; a bit more will cloud their mind and louden their voice; even more than that may stagger them and make laughter come as easily as breathing; and consumption beyond that may bring blackouts and, in the worst of cases, death. Jiugui cannot force intoxication upon anyone who has not consumed his wine, however - while the god can decide the strength of his concoctions up to lethal levels, he cannot actually make anyone intoxicated so long as they refuse to drink the concoction. The power of wine also lets Jiugui grant others reduced or increased resistances to alcohol, even immunity. However, this blessing, too, must be granted through drinking. In this vein, Jiugui can communicate through wine and through wine containers, whispering into their drinkers' faces. Persona Jiugui is a similar to most drunks one might meet around midnight: Hearty of spirit and stuffed to the brim with song and kind words. He is a wonderful drinking buddy, and will gladly offer up a cup of wine and invite anyone to have a seat to drink and talk about life. His purse strings are as loose as his passions and he will spend his power lavishly to make certain his friends and guests are enjoying themselves to the fullest. Issues begin appearing whenever Jiugui is given any responsibilities. He is at the very least tipsy at any point in time, frequently drunk beyond reason, and will regularly shirk his duties for another drink in the pavilion with his friends and a sheet of paper to write poetry on. He keeps secrets for maybe fifteen seconds - if you're lucky, he'll forget them first - and has a tendency to get himself into trouble left and right when he falls into one of his stupors. At the very least, he makes for a comical show. True Form While Jiugui's normal form is that of a small, fat, drunken man with blood-red skin and black hair, his true form takes on the literal meaning of his name, "wine demon". When assuming this form, Jiugui grows five times taller, ripping his robes in the process and leaving only rags as a loincloth. His hair falls off, horns sprouting forth from his head instead. Everywhere on his body, his skin sags with fat and laziness. The air around him oozes (even more) with the stink of alcohol, and every breath taken is bitter with spirit vapours. However, apart from his ugly appearance and intoxicating smell, his true form does very little in addition to what his base form already does. Perhaps he becomes more dangerous on account of being five times taller, but just as out of balance as usual? Maybe he has additional powers, but forgets them in his stupor? Who knows? He sure doesn't. Normal form, the man Jiugui. True form, the demon Jiugui. Musical theme</s> <\|message\|>VoiShepherd of Souls Voi Aspect of Souls --- Nothing, he was, just another one of the Monarch's shards. "Then the voice came, My subjects, I am your creator...." Bright blue light started to form within the shard. A single questioning thought emerged, creator? "This will not be our prison, not a stockade...." "Our prison?" The bright blue started to pulsate and shifted wildly inside the shard with each passing moment. The shard barely able to hold it in. Then came the final words, 'Rise! Heed this call of mine! Become the gods of Galbar!' The shard started to crack before the bright blue light thashing violently until it shattered the shard. The blue light standing in place for a few seconds before coalescing into a figure. Voi, his first thought as a god. He knows that is his name and took a moment to gaze at his body. Flexing his fingers for the first time, and took note of his form. Something corporeal to the naked eye but, underneath, incorporeal. Suiting his purpose a god of souls. He thought as he turned his gaze to his creator the Monarch. Giving a bow of respect to the Monarch and in a soft tone, "Thank you, father." Before turning his gaze towards his siblings, hearing the call from Voligan, seeing that he and others were in the middle of changing Galbar. Galbar, this is to be their world that they would make together. A sense of duty developed in him. This was their task, to be gods of this world and shape it. A task the Voi was more than willing to help with, but before, he would travel to Galbar and aid his siblings' efforts. He heard Epsilon's call about writing in a book about their favorite elements of existence. Turning around to see the god of knowledge writing in a book that was on a pedestal in the main hall. Curious about his and what his brother has written down already. Due to their very short time being alive and so Voi walked over to the pedestal. Once he was closed enough, Voi read what Epsilon had written. Reading Epsilon's love of memory, thought, stories, discovery, and the universe. Voi wrote what he felt was important to him. The nature of a soul, the sanctity of life, and making a soul safe once they had moved on to the next life. Though he has yet to experience it yet but is eager to begin. So when he was done writing in the Codex, Voi ventured off to see what existence has to offer to him and his siblings. Voi is created and shatters his shard in the process. Wrote in the Codex Ventures off Starting Vigor - 10 Spent - 1 - Writing on the nature of souls and life onto the Codex End Vigor - 9</s> <\|message\|>Aethel Aethel Location: The Celestial Palace. Interacting with: Monarch of All (@Lauder) and Ruina @Squad 404) Turning their head slightly to gaze upon the new arrival, Aethel seemed to light up at the sight of one of their siblings. Springing up from their sitting position in order to ponk around Ruina while checking her out like an over excited baby lamb discovering something new. Finally remembering words were a thing after the first bouncing circle, Aethel finally came to a stop in front of her as their front hooves moved up to cover their mouth as a squeal escaped them before the gushing began. "Oh. My. Me! You look amazing! The perfect blend of soft and delicate beauty combined with animistic savagery!... as well as some tasteful sex appeal in just how tight your outfit appears to be! It even matches your hair and eyes! You're going to be so popular! Everything we create is going to want to get to know you!" Remembering where they were and whom was present, Aethel glanced back at the Monarch with a degree of bashfulness before forcing themselves to calm down with a polite clearing of their throat and a deep, deep breath. "I mean... My name is Aethel. It is an absolute pleasure to meet you... sister?" Glancing back at the Monarch of All as if to confirm if they were using the right kind of relationship to describe a fellow deity, regardless of the outcome they would turn back and offer a polite bow of the head. "I am Aethel. And this-" There was a grand sweeping gesture of two of their legs and a countless number of tentacles towards the world that they were observing "-is going to be our stage of Galbar! Granted its not much to look at right now since all that is currently there is water, but some of our kin have big additions already planned and I'm looking forward to seeing them." "In fact, I have some ideas of my own but.." Pausing for a moment, Aethel turned back to the Monarch fully before politely requesting "Father, in order to speed up my additions to Galbar during this early development, might I make use of some of the Mana of the Palace? It is not vitally important since I can make due without it, but it would considerably speed up the development of Galbar's own sources of Mana by introducing a supply of it from the start." Aethel meets Ruina for the first time and politely asks dad if he can use some of the Palace's Mana to get things on Galbar going a lot faster then planned. Cycle 0 Vigor total: 10. Vigor spent: 0. Remaining Vigor: 10.</s>	<\|message\|>Jiugui The Wine Demon \| The Unquenchable Thirst \| The Rose-Cheeked God Thunderous cacophonies of creation blasted into reality all around, and the scene of existence had in the span of minutes gone from nothing into everything - water, earth, heat, cold, magic - forces of the physical world accompanied by the forces of the cosmos: knowledge, luck, fortitude, destruction and souls. At the centre of it all - Him; the Celestial Master, the Lord Who Towers of All. The Cosmic King had spawned with such magnificent power this roster of retainers, this society of stewards - drizzling the world in rain and penning the words of Creation itself. Life - life was finding its way. It was then that a puddle, not too far from the ruins of the garden fountain, was exposed to the sweet dust of a godly shard; that sugar in the air that blasted off from creation and seasoned the soil with holy spirit. That was enough. The water accepted this candy of Creation and the two fused into a thin syrup that immediately sported a small, brown mustache of foam - an eyeball of yeast blinked up at the rain. It had little time before it would be flushed away. It decided to do something about it. So the yeast spun itself a whirlpool in the puddle and flushed itself down into the soil. There, it quickly found exactly no one, and it couldn't accept that - where was the joy in being alone? So the yeast, immediately changing its mind, tunneled back up into the air and became a cloud. The cloud thickened, but the rain from above kept cutting through it and preventing it from coalescing properly. The cloud, rather annoyed at this point, floated for cover, finding it in the ruins of an ancient pavilion. There, the cloud could finally gather into a clump of foam, and the clump spat out a creature - a man, red of skin, small of growth and round with fat. The creature, clothed in a white silk robe and hatted with a black futou, crashed into the pavilion floor, but spared no muscular expense and turned the clumsy landing into a dexterous roll, ending in a lying seat, a cup spawning in his right hand as if by instinct. With his cup in his grip and a sip to his lip, he, Jiugui, spoke the first drunk poetry the world had ever heard: Thousand years of brewing art Hidden in the Lian Spring, art! Wine from poets' gardens flows, Tastes which will undo all woes. He then looked around. "Wait, where ish everyone?" A cloud of alcohol made from divine shard sugar and rainwater spawns Jiugui, who then recites poetry to exactly no one. Vigor: 10/10, best monarch.</s>
<\|description\|>Zelios The Shadow-That-Shields Aspect Darkness. Traditionally characterized as the absence of light. But there is more to it than that. To some, darkness represents fear; fear of the unseen, and unknown. To others, it represents peace, safety, protection. The God of Darkness has the power to dim or outright banish light, to make it easier for his servants to move unseen, to command the creatures of the night, and to manipulate the very shadows themselves into physical objects that might harm or hinder mortals, be it by sapping their strength, holding them in place, or resorting to a more direct attack. Persona Zelios is a surprisingly friendly and affable man, all things considered. While some might assume a god of darkness to be cold, menacing, or secretive, he is anything but. He has his secrets, to be sure, and he is more than capable of appearing threatening when the situation calls for it, but amongst his fellow gods he generally attempts to maintain an air of friendliness. Zelios holds a particular disdain for tyrants. What he defines as a tyrant is someone in a position of power who abuses that power to impose their will on others who are no threat to them and have not done anything worthy of such a punishment. At the end of the day he usually tends to sympathize with those whose only wish is to be left alone. When it comes to punishing these so-called tyrants for those actions, Zelios has no preferred method. It usually depends on the circumstance. If the problem is with certain individuals rather than an entire class or system, then he will usually try to air out their crimes and discredit them, or resort to assassination. Even then the manner of the assassination may vary depending on whether or not he wants the death to send a message. However if the issue is systemic, then he will instead resort to more intricate means; usually by identifying people willing to reform the system (or by inspiring them to do so if no such people exist), and doing everything he can to bolster their position so that they might overthrow the system. However, if a society is utterly corrupt, irredeemable, and rotten to the core, with everyone being complicit in it, he may decide that it would be better for the society to be destroyed completely rather than reformed. When it comes to leading mortals he does not prefer to make grand speeches in public. His preference is to instead meet with leaders in private, or whisper into their ears, or plants thoughts inside their heads. He also likes to act through agents, such as secret cabals of spies and assassins. Not all of his agents act in secret, however; he is more than willing to deploy small elite bands of warriors who can take a more... direct hand in events if necessary. He likes to see himself as a patron of the downtrodden, but those who misinterpret his nature may instead view him as a patron of schemers, thieves, assassins, and sycophants. But in truth he is willing to accept pretty much any worshiper, so long as they respect him and his values. Some might argue that Zelios is a tyrant himself. Depending on his mood, he will treat such accusations as if they were either a joke or a grave insult. He is not incapable of self-reflection, and can recognize when he makes mistakes, but to him those mistakes are just that - mistakes. Isolated mistakes which are not a symptom of any deeper character flaw. True Form Zelios's true form is a mass of darkness in its purest, densest form. Such a form can take any size, any shape, any state - be it gas, liquid, or solid. It radiates an aura that creatures of the day would find malevolent, and creatures of the night would find comforting or inspiring. Depending on the size it takes, all lights within a certain radius will find themselves dimmed. The speed and strength of this form directly correlates with the day and night cycle; in the day it is slow and sluggish, while at night is freakishly swift and monstrous even by divine standards. Creatures of the day who stare deeply into the mass will find their very own perception altered, to be more attuned with the night. They can effectively gain constant night vision, capable of seeing in dark without any aid, but their vision in turn becomes far more sensitive to sources of light; blindingly, and even painfully so. They may find themselves never able to look upon the sun again. It is a rare day when Zelios invokes this form, however. Most days he prefers to walk in the form of a simple mortal, in black robes or armour, with a raven feather cloak or a pair of black angelic wings.</s> <\|message\|>Aethel Aethel Location: The Celestial Palace. Interacting with: Monarch of All (@Lauder) and Ruina @Squad 404) Turning their head slightly to gaze upon the new arrival, Aethel seemed to light up at the sight of one of their siblings. Springing up from their sitting position in order to ponk around Ruina while checking her out like an over excited baby lamb discovering something new. Finally remembering words were a thing after the first bouncing circle, Aethel finally came to a stop in front of her as their front hooves moved up to cover their mouth as a squeal escaped them before the gushing began. "Oh. My. Me! You look amazing! The perfect blend of soft and delicate beauty combined with animistic savagery!... as well as some tasteful sex appeal in just how tight your outfit appears to be! It even matches your hair and eyes! You're going to be so popular! Everything we create is going to want to get to know you!" Remembering where they were and whom was present, Aethel glanced back at the Monarch with a degree of bashfulness before forcing themselves to calm down with a polite clearing of their throat and a deep, deep breath. "I mean... My name is Aethel. It is an absolute pleasure to meet you... sister?" Glancing back at the Monarch of All as if to confirm if they were using the right kind of relationship to describe a fellow deity, regardless of the outcome they would turn back and offer a polite bow of the head. "I am Aethel. And this-" There was a grand sweeping gesture of two of their legs and a countless number of tentacles towards the world that they were observing "-is going to be our stage of Galbar! Granted its not much to look at right now since all that is currently there is water, but some of our kin have big additions already planned and I'm looking forward to seeing them." "In fact, I have some ideas of my own but.." Pausing for a moment, Aethel turned back to the Monarch fully before politely requesting "Father, in order to speed up my additions to Galbar during this early development, might I make use of some of the Mana of the Palace? It is not vitally important since I can make due without it, but it would considerably speed up the development of Galbar's own sources of Mana by introducing a supply of it from the start." Aethel meets Ruina for the first time and politely asks dad if he can use some of the Palace's Mana to get things on Galbar going a lot faster then planned. Cycle 0 Vigor total: 10. Vigor spent: 0. Remaining Vigor: 10.</s> <\|message\|>Jiugui Jiugui The Wine Demon \| The Unquenchable Thirst \| The Rose-Cheeked God Thunderous cacophonies of creation blasted into reality all around, and the scene of existence had in the span of minutes gone from nothing into everything - water, earth, heat, cold, magic - forces of the physical world accompanied by the forces of the cosmos: knowledge, luck, fortitude, destruction and souls. At the centre of it all - Him; the Celestial Master, the Lord Who Towers of All. The Cosmic King had spawned with such magnificent power this roster of retainers, this society of stewards - drizzling the world in rain and penning the words of Creation itself. Life - life was finding its way. It was then that a puddle, not too far from the ruins of the garden fountain, was exposed to the sweet dust of a godly shard; that sugar in the air that blasted off from creation and seasoned the soil with holy spirit. That was enough. The water accepted this candy of Creation and the two fused into a thin syrup that immediately sported a small, brown mustache of foam - an eyeball of yeast blinked up at the rain. It had little time before it would be flushed away. It decided to do something about it. So the yeast spun itself a whirlpool in the puddle and flushed itself down into the soil. There, it quickly found exactly no one, and it couldn't accept that - where was the joy in being alone? So the yeast, immediately changing its mind, tunneled back up into the air and became a cloud. The cloud thickened, but the rain from above kept cutting through it and preventing it from coalescing properly. The cloud, rather annoyed at this point, floated for cover, finding it in the ruins of an ancient pavilion. There, the cloud could finally gather into a clump of foam, and the clump spat out a creature - a man, red of skin, small of growth and round with fat. The creature, clothed in a white silk robe and hatted with a black futou, crashed into the pavilion floor, but spared no muscular expense and turned the clumsy landing into a dexterous roll, ending in a lying seat, a cup spawning in his right hand as if by instinct. With his cup in his grip and a sip to his lip, he, Jiugui, spoke the first drunk poetry the world had ever heard: Thousand years of brewing art Hidden in the Lian Spring, art! Wine from poets' gardens flows, Tastes which will undo all woes. He then looked around. "Wait, where ish everyone?" A cloud of alcohol made from divine shard sugar and rainwater spawns Jiugui, who then recites poetry to exactly no one. Vigor: 10/10, best monarch.</s> <\|message\|>Tuku LlantuALIAS There was a shard among the many that acted in a peculiar way. Of all the shards expelled, this one had been thrown with great violence and force, flying off faster than any other. At some moment or another it changed curse, and instead of flying away from the palace, it circled back, returning to it, still at a great speed, as it neared the immaculate building, the shard exploded into hundreds of micro shards which rained upon a section of the palace like bullets, chipping away the masonry, crashing upon plants, digging holes into the ground. These shards would melt into a shadow coloured slurry, which would snake its path across the garden and coalesce into one singular dark spot from which a colourful figure would rise. Thus had been born the hunt, Tuku Llantu. The masked deity took a moment observing their surroundings in silence, listening to their many siblings proudly announce who they were and their mission. Of these the words and actions of Epsilson were the ones who truly caught their attention, a codex of creation, of knowledge... The aloof god stepped forward and approached such book. They wrote down the things only a hunter's well trained eyes could see in this young universe, the treasured secrets hidden very deep within the world, and upon writing all that... allowed black ink to cover it all, forever embracing such secrets so that even Tuku themselves would no longer know them. "May the uncertainty of the unknown be eternal in this existence" and so it was set that no matter how much it was studied, the world would never be fully understood. That done, the deity moved away, looking upon the blue marble of Galbar and at the palace around them. Both beautiful, both lacking in something. To deal with the former, first the god would need a way to reach it from this exact distance, and to do that they brought forth fibres from the garden which weaved together and became a bow. To deal with the later, the god sat down and clapped their hands together, when they opened, young-lings of three species were to be found. To rise above the plants and trees, a pair of small creatures with bushy tails and skin that extended from their arms and legs. This was called the flying squirrel, pay no heed to the lack of a normal squirrel. To traverse the rooms and small holes of the structure, a pair of small furry creatures were made, with strong teeth and long tails and an undying desire to survive no matter what, these were the rats. Finally, to mirror the still calmness of the waters, a pair of larger rodents were made, with fat bodies and relaxed faces, these creatures would inhabit the ponds of the garden, and were called the capybara. Tuku is created when a shard breaks into smaller shards and crashes upon the palace. They write something in the codex and then place black ink over it, making it so the world will always have mystery and the unknown They make a bow, the first bow, it is not particularly magical outside of the fact it can throw projectiles across worlds. They make three rodents, flying squirels, rats and capybaras, all properly adapted to withstand divine presence and the environment of the palace. Vigour: Initial - 10 Used - 2 [Palace Rodents (1), First Bow Artefact (1)] Current Vigour: 8</s>	<\|message\|>Zelios While all the other shards dramatically shattered and some even went so far as to damage the palace itself, one was considerably more... subdued. Instead of shattering into a thousand pieces, or colliding with nearby walls and furniture, the quiet shard hovered in place. For a moment it looked as if it might not crack, as if it was a dud. Then, it began to slowly fill with a peculiar inky blackness, until the entire thing was as dark as an abyss. Crack! The surface of the crystal was suddenly marred by a single jagged line; an imperfect crack in what had previously been a smooth surface. Then, black smoke began to pour from the crack. Instead of dispersing to fill the room, as smoke was wont to do, it instead remained concentrated. Instead of rising as high as it could go, it went straight to the floor, and began to accumulate there. Aside from the initial sound of the crack forming, all of this happened soundlessly. The darkness in the crystal, meanwhile, was beginning to drain. Only when the crystal was empty did the mass of black smoke begin to shrink in on itself, before suddenly stopping as it took on the form of a black silhoeutte; a bipedal form with two arms. Then the blackness shifted once more, as a pair of what could only be wings extended from its back. Seemingly satisfied, the darkness finally began to transform into actual features: short black hair on a handsome pale face. A suit of fine silver armour with blackened trim. The dark mass of wings sprouted shiny black feathers. The God of Darkness was born. Turning around, he placed a gentle hand on his still-intact crystal, and slowly it floated down to the ground. Then he turned toward his creator, and approached. "Rather rude to leave such great messes in your maker's home, is it not?" the God of Darkness asked the gods who were already gathering around the Monarch. Though his smile and the amused tone in his voice made it clear it was not intended as a true reprimand. "Ah, but I'm not one to talk! I haven't even introduced myself yet." He turned to the Monarch and offered a low bow. "I am Zelios," he introduced himself. --- Zelios is born. Unlike the other gods he takes care not to have his crystal shatter into a million pieces or damage his surroundings. He takes in the form of a dude in silver armour with black feathery wings. Then he approaches the gods gathering around the Monarch and introduces himself.</s>
<\|description\|>ZENIA QUEEN OF FEASTS \| SUMMER-SPIRIT ZENI \| BLITHE BALLADIER Aspect Revelry Celebration and ceremony spring up in all typical mortal cultures. It is inevitable. Even the most battle-hardened veteran will find cause for cheer eventually, when victory against the enemy finally comes, or when the newest child in the family is born. Societies come together to celebrate grand events and holidays. Families and villages revel in the abundance of harvest or the fortunate outcome of hard labor. Individuals find cheer in all manner of things. Sometimes a group of mortals just want to forget the dark and grit that looms over the coming days and immerse themselves in a communal feeling of living in the now and living their best lives. These ceremonies of joy and expressions of happiness fall under the aspect of Revelry. No matter the size, social or societal value, or formality. A party, a ball, and a festival all follow the same notes of spreading good feeling and inspiring people to open up to one another, shape new bonds and experience fresh things. This bubbling flare of emotion is central to Revelry, which centers on allowing those weighed down by stress, anxiety and responsibility to loosen up and appreciate what's in front of them, or look upon the positive parts of their existence. The lowest form of revelry is the simple appreciation of a thing or a moment – a shared laugh or a guilty pleasure. On the most extreme end of revelry lies truly debauched hedonism and dereliction of duty to pursue personal pleasure. With control of this aspect, Zenia directs crowds to ease their tensions and celebrate what they have in common. She can create from next to nothing the urge to liven up and forget about the past – and the future – even if just for a time. This could stall an army that decides to have a hearty feast before marching on, create the perfect harvest festival for a village that will live on in memory in many new ways, or help someone literally become the life of the party to elevate their social standing to new heights. The reverse is true as well of course, and upsetting the goddess of revelry is a quick path to a cheerless existence. Persona Zenia is easy to write off as something of a simple-minded goddess. She doesn't particularly care for grand plots be they mortal or divine, nor does she seem to have the head for even mortal concepts of knowledge. Some would therefore conclude that she's a little dense or airheaded; Zenia would say that she doesn't have time to consider big-picture things like that. Someone else will figure it out, and she can focus on the truly important stuff like what to wear, or the lyrics to a bard's particularly raunchy song. Despite this, one would be remiss to write the goddess off as one-note. Her displeasure for rational thought and responsibility coupled with an apparently inborn love of festivities makes her as much of a boon to others as a constant disruption, happy to throw off schemes and well-laid plans of mortals and deities alike to arrange a kicking get-together. Something troubling lies behind the behavior however, as Zenia seems more comfortable amidst a party and tends to drift onwards to her next target when the booze, food and fraternizing starts drying up. The same shirking of duties that she consistently tries to foist on others is how she approaches her own existence as a deity as well and seems to loathe being called on to do anything deific in an official capacity. She prefers to spread cheer and move on, taking life one day at a time, conflicted about her own role in any grand design and chafing at the thought of having to take responsibility for just about anything. Form In her unbound, mind-warping form, Zenia is no more a physical entity than a splash of colour in the eye of the beholder or a tune hummed from right behind the listener. She is energy given form, an unbridled light and frequency that tries to overpower all it passes into exuding the same bristling joy that she normally espouses. Survivors will remember frenzied and jumbled melodies, burning pains in their legs and arms as all adrenaline drains, and so much need to appreciate life that they might not appreciate anything ever again. Given the danger and fragility of such a state, Zenia is most typically shaped as an athletic young woman with long blonde hair, clad in regalia that either adheres to local customs, or baubles and regal elegance that doesn't seem to originate anywhere in the world. She has a penchant for appearing as an unimportant woman of the local species happy to participate in some revelry, but the knowledgeable will probably suspect something. Musical theme</s> <\|message\|>Tuku LlantuALIAS There was a shard among the many that acted in a peculiar way. Of all the shards expelled, this one had been thrown with great violence and force, flying off faster than any other. At some moment or another it changed curse, and instead of flying away from the palace, it circled back, returning to it, still at a great speed, as it neared the immaculate building, the shard exploded into hundreds of micro shards which rained upon a section of the palace like bullets, chipping away the masonry, crashing upon plants, digging holes into the ground. These shards would melt into a shadow coloured slurry, which would snake its path across the garden and coalesce into one singular dark spot from which a colourful figure would rise. Thus had been born the hunt, Tuku Llantu. The masked deity took a moment observing their surroundings in silence, listening to their many siblings proudly announce who they were and their mission. Of these the words and actions of Epsilson were the ones who truly caught their attention, a codex of creation, of knowledge... The aloof god stepped forward and approached such book. They wrote down the things only a hunter's well trained eyes could see in this young universe, the treasured secrets hidden very deep within the world, and upon writing all that... allowed black ink to cover it all, forever embracing such secrets so that even Tuku themselves would no longer know them. "May the uncertainty of the unknown be eternal in this existence" and so it was set that no matter how much it was studied, the world would never be fully understood. That done, the deity moved away, looking upon the blue marble of Galbar and at the palace around them. Both beautiful, both lacking in something. To deal with the former, first the god would need a way to reach it from this exact distance, and to do that they brought forth fibres from the garden which weaved together and became a bow. To deal with the later, the god sat down and clapped their hands together, when they opened, young-lings of three species were to be found. To rise above the plants and trees, a pair of small creatures with bushy tails and skin that extended from their arms and legs. This was called the flying squirrel, pay no heed to the lack of a normal squirrel. To traverse the rooms and small holes of the structure, a pair of small furry creatures were made, with strong teeth and long tails and an undying desire to survive no matter what, these were the rats. Finally, to mirror the still calmness of the waters, a pair of larger rodents were made, with fat bodies and relaxed faces, these creatures would inhabit the ponds of the garden, and were called the capybara. Tuku is created when a shard breaks into smaller shards and crashes upon the palace. They write something in the codex and then place black ink over it, making it so the world will always have mystery and the unknown They make a bow, the first bow, it is not particularly magical outside of the fact it can throw projectiles across worlds. They make three rodents, flying squirels, rats and capybaras, all properly adapted to withstand divine presence and the environment of the palace. Vigour: Initial - 10 Used - 2 [Palace Rodents (1), First Bow Artefact (1)] Current Vigour: 8</s> <\|message\|>Zelios Zelios --- While all the other shards dramatically shattered and some even went so far as to damage the palace itself, one was considerably more... subdued. Instead of shattering into a thousand pieces, or colliding with nearby walls and furniture, the quiet shard hovered in place. For a moment it looked as if it might not crack, as if it was a dud. Then, it began to slowly fill with a peculiar inky blackness, until the entire thing was as dark as an abyss. Crack! The surface of the crystal was suddenly marred by a single jagged line; an imperfect crack in what had previously been a smooth surface. Then, black smoke began to pour from the crack. Instead of dispersing to fill the room, as smoke was wont to do, it instead remained concentrated. Instead of rising as high as it could go, it went straight to the floor, and began to accumulate there. Aside from the initial sound of the crack forming, all of this happened soundlessly. The darkness in the crystal, meanwhile, was beginning to drain. Only when the crystal was empty did the mass of black smoke begin to shrink in on itself, before suddenly stopping as it took on the form of a black silhoeutte; a bipedal form with two arms. Then the blackness shifted once more, as a pair of what could only be wings extended from its back. Seemingly satisfied, the darkness finally began to transform into actual features: short black hair on a handsome pale face. A suit of fine silver armour with blackened trim. The dark mass of wings sprouted shiny black feathers. The God of Darkness was born. Turning around, he placed a gentle hand on his still-intact crystal, and slowly it floated down to the ground. Then he turned toward his creator, and approached. "Rather rude to leave such great messes in your maker's home, is it not?" the God of Darkness asked the gods who were already gathering around the Monarch. Though his smile and the amused tone in his voice made it clear it was not intended as a true reprimand. "Ah, but I'm not one to talk! I haven't even introduced myself yet." He turned to the Monarch and offered a low bow. "I am Zelios," he introduced himself. --- Zelios is born. Unlike the other gods he takes care not to have his crystal shatter into a million pieces or damage his surroundings. He takes in the form of a dude in silver armour with black feathery wings. Then he approaches the gods gathering around the Monarch and introduces himself.</s>	<\|message\|>ZENIA Among the chaotic emissions that was the Monarch of All's grand expense of effort, as well as the building crescendo of nascent deities escaping the prisons of their previous non-existence, one shard among the many drifted silently through the void. It careened away from the bridge with the sort of heedless abandon that only inanimate objects could, threatening an existence wholly consumed by traveling the darkness of the beyond for all time. Then, as if willfully rejecting this fate, or perhaps responding to the sounds of unfolding chaos of divine action, the shard vibrated. At first, it was but a simple tremble, the rustle of porcelain when someone bumps the table. It did not remain that way for long; the vibrations grew wild and intense with worrying speed. Soon it shook like an earthquake unto itself, and the edges of the shard grew blurry. The energies contained within dissipated from it like a roll of thread unrolling itself into the void of space, until the contours of the shard were so fuzzy and intangible that it now resembled a simple flurry of jagged, shifting shapes and expelled particles. It grew and grew until finally it expanded a final time, accompanied by a loud boom that rang through the void. Silence did not return - instead where once there had been quiet there was now an ever present buzzing, a hum, several melodies, the hint of laughter, concentrated deep within that shifting haze of colour and contours. This jumble of contours whizzed and zipped erratically through space, changing direction almost at random with brief exception for heading towards the sounds of other divinities when next they made a sound. Eventually the shape seemed to decide upon the fixed placement of the Monarch-of-All as He orbited the watered prison. With a vibrant hum this unwound and vibrating ball of divine yarn sped towards its creator and those few gathered in His presence, making the journey in reality-breaking speeds. The mess of color and sounds came to an unstable halt around the small congregation before the Monarch, and hummed a sequence of thoughtful but discordant melodies. It took in the gathering deities in a way that only a humming cloud of materia could, before beginning to vibrate profusely once more. The energy gathered and congealed quickly, taking form once more; not as a small shard, but as those gathered before the Monarch. First it appeared to take the silhouette of Aethel, only to warp into a half-proper image of the stoic Zelios, and finally turning into a near-perfect copy of Ruina, down to the mysterious scarring that marred the nascent goddess' face. The copycat cooed and hummed, inspecting her own work and arms before grinning to the others. Wearing Ruina's face, she bowed deeply to the Monarch in a motion deep enough to be mocking the idea of bowing, before giggling with unbridled mirth and testing her new legs by spontaneously righting herself and kicking up in a spirited jump for joy. What followed was an unedited verbal stream of consciousness. "Yes! Let's go! This is gonna be, like, great. I'm so excited! I already have so many ideas that would be totally amazing. Bright things. Fluffy things. A shiny thing that goes 'ting!'. Zenia is on the mission! ...Zenia? I think I'm Zenia!" She lounged around expectantly for all of a second. When it sunk in that her display did not immediately spread cheer, the copycat Ruina shrugged her shoulders and took a running start - in space - towards the prison ball and escaped the congregation with a mirthful laugh. It took her about three paces to start trying to do cartwheels all the way down. Either way, she left her creator and siblings in the dust, looking like someone else and trying to beat her own cartwheel record of zero. Zenia is born, takes the appearance of Ruina, and cartwheels to Galbar. Zenia has 10 Vigor. Tremble mortals and despair.</s>
<\|description\|>Matias Valencia Race: Human, White Hispanic Sex: Male Looks: A short (5'4'') man with an athletic build. He has long black hair that's messy and goes down to around his shoulders. He has a black stubble beard that he keeps at medium length. He has deep, brown eyes with dark circles hanging underneath. A mole sits under his left (viewer's right) eye. Skills: Trained kickboxer, artist Weapons: Usually fights with bare hands/brass knuckles, uses blunt objects if necessary. Carries around a small hand gun but rarely uses it to conserve ammo Weaknesses: Short-fused, stubborn, grudger, selfish, sadistic</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia The bumpiness of the ride only exacerbated Matias's pain. It showed no signs of leaving him; it was here to stay for however long he wanted to keep up with it. He could hardly pay attention to Iris's explanation or really anything outside of the excruciation he was going through right now. "I don't know," he grunted, clenching his arms around his body. "Kind of... Urgh... wish I died, to be honesssssst... Rrrrgh..." The van stopped, but, of course, not the pain. Gritting his teeth didn't help at all, but Matias did it anyway. He at least gained back some mobility in his lower half, but all he could really do was curl his legs inwards in an attempt to squeeze out more pain. "'Nuts', huh? That's what you have to say? Christ..."</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Iris looked back at him and said "I don't really have other words for it…" scarlet opened the doors and checked the other two and frowned. "They are in bad shape. That bomb did damage…" she helped Matias out of the van and into one of the arm chairs they had set up in the sitting area Scarlet had made up. Then her and Iris moved Dante and Bane onto the medical beds by the windows so Iris could start working on them. Scarlet went back to Matias and checked his eyes saying "seems you only got a dose of it…does moving help? Or maybe heat? I'm not totally sure how to help…" Iris was working her sage magic on the other two and called over "try moving the limbs affected. He might just need the current pushed out…" Scarlet nodded and said "maybe walking with you leaning on me?"</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia It only took one foot touching the ground for Matias's pain to shoot up. The man let out a strained cry, shutting his eyes tight as he wobbled over to the chair offered to him. The coolness of the seat was but a temporary fix. "Moving hurt like hell," he growled, "are you kidding me? There's got to be another way..." Still, Matias took one leg in his hands and pulled it upwards. It wasn't as painful as setting all one hundred and forty pounds of him onto it, but it was still unpleasant. There was a sudden moment of numbness, but that was about as much improvement as he got. "It... kinda works. Just for like two seconds though."</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Scarlet sighed then looked at the doors. "I hope the boss is okay…" Iris was still working on the boys and said "okay, it looks like cold helps more. Try getting the ice blankets" scarlet nodded and ran to the cooler, pulling out a fabric meant to be cold for things like this. She came back and laid it over his legs. "Let's try that…is that helping at all?"</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia The sudden chill at Matias's legs made him scrunch his face and wince. The cold fought the pain upon contact, and for once Matias felt like things weren't totally terrible. "That definitely works," he sighed, opening his legs slightly to let the chill get everywhere it could. The pain lingered, but by a thread. Most of what Matias felt at the moment was nice, cold numbness. "How are the other guys holding up?"</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Iris looked over and said "Dante is okay. His already cold so I think the shock just stunned him. I'll get him some blood when he wakes up and he should be fine. Bane took the worst of it. His in pain and it will take some working to relieve it" Scarlet smiled glad it worked then said "should I go back and find the boss?"</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia "Hmmph." Matias settled in. The cold had a vice grip on his legs, but the pain had mostly dissipated. In his comfort, however, he refused to move; had he not been in a conversation, he likely would have fallen asleep. He definitely wasn't going to now that Iris suggested going back to the power plant. "You're crazy," he laughed half-heartedly, "Noooo way, mija. Besides, he told us to come back here. Now, I'm not one to blindly comply, but after what happened over there..." His legs shuffled slightly under the blanket's weight. "... Nah. I'm good."</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Iris nodded and said "his right Scarlet. The boss will be fine. They have been in worse. Just wait till the boys can move without pain again and if it gets to be too long then I'll go with you back to see what's going on alright?" Scarlet sighed and nodded, still looking worried. "I hope the boss is okay…that guy looked big…"</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia For about half an hour, Matias fought back against his own drowsiness. His thoughts served as his only form of entertainment at the moment, so it proved difficult. He didn't exactly want to be reminded by how he almost died twice today, or how much work they still had left for all their cases, or the possibility of that disgusting bug coming back, or how the boss could very likely have– "Hey... I think I'm better now." He set the blanket aside on the work table, slowly rising to his feet. He had to grip the side of the table for a moment, however, as his legs weren't ready for this sudden change yet. "You guys decided what you're gonna do yet?"</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Scarlet was pacing as Iris was working on Bane to try and get his own healing to kick in. Iris looked up and said "Scarlet is freaking out. I can't go until I can trigger Banes healing so he isn't in danger…" Scarlet cursed softly and said "I don't like waiting around. They could be hurt or worse…" suddenly one of the doors started opening and a cycle pulled in. The boss was on the back, blood dripping off them as they stumbled off the cycle. Scarlet gasped and said "Boss?" The boss was breathing hard and said weakly "it's…handled…"</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia The empty air of the room allowed for the sound of the doors to reverberate off the walls. It certainly caught Matias's attention at least. The sight of the bloodied boss cemented his choice. His eyes went wide, and his throat was caught in a snag. He didn't need the blanket for the chill that was running through his spine right now. "The hell happened to you?!" he roared, forcing himself to confront the boss. He seemingly had no problem getting blood all over his clothes if it meant rushing this poor person to another bed. He also had no problem dirtying the bed itself, either. "Jesus... Tell me where you're hurt! Can't see any damn wounds with all that red stuff on you." After setting the boss down and flicking off the excess blood, Matias ran to the other side of the room to grab a med kit. He knew he needed more than that, obviously, but it would have to do. He rummaged through the kit as he jogged back, pulling out some pads. He hurriedly patted these pads all over the boss, soaking up as much blood as he could, as little as each pad could actually do.</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow The boss was breathing hard as Matias helped them to the bed. They grunted in pain and muttered "it's not all mine…the commander decided he didn't want to go quietly…took longer then I planned to handle him…" Scarlet ran over with more supplies and said "it may not be all your blood but your bleeding a lot" she moved their arm and they saw the wound. It looked like they had been run thru with a lightening bolt just under the heart. Iris was finishing with Bane and saw the boss and said "crap…"</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia Matias almost immediately caught sight of the wound as soon as it was uncovered. He paused his treatment to take in the graveness of the situation. He exhaled sharply before returning to his hasty work. "You're really making this out to be less than what it is," he huffed, "and we REALLY can't afford to lose anyone right now. Especially not you." After patting out the last bit of blood that the last pad could swallow, he took a closer look at the wound. He, however, could barely stand to look at it for more than five seconds. "How do I even approach this? Disinfectant? I'm no medic..."</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Iris walked over and said "boss you will have to lose the outfit if I'm going to treat this…" The boss looked up and shook their head. "No…I'll bind the wound with shadows then it will be fine…" They tried to get up and moved their hand. Shadows wrapped around the wound. Scarlet said "boss no. You need that treated"</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia Matias brow furrowed at the boss's response. He met their gaze– or at least tried to– keeping the expression. "Alright," he puffed, "I'm pretty sure you can drop the mysterious hooded guy thing for a few moments so you don't, you know, die. Quit messing around." Gingerly, he pinched the bottom hem of the boss's robe and began to pull it up. "We'll pretend we didn't see anything, okay? Anyone here have mind-wiping powers or something?"</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Shadows moved to stop the cloak from moving and the boss said "it's not just for show. It's to protect the team. Understand that I'm trying…trying…" they swayed a bit and Scarlet said "boss? You alright?" They held their head then fell forward, scarlet moving to try and catch them. "Iris we need you!" Scarlet tried to hold them up but said "dang they have a lot of body armor on. We have to get this stuff off"</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia "'Protect the team'? What are you even–?" Before Matias could finish his sentence, the boss suddenly heeled forward. His hands leaped forward and caught onto the boss's body, pushing forward in an attempt to stabilize them. Their weight proved a mighty adversary, however, pushing back with the weight of whatever they had on right now. "Listen," Matias growled, "cut the crap. We're not going to die if we take off your cosplay. That's ridiculous. Just let us help you or else you're actually going to screw up the team." He looked towards Iris, gritting his teeth. "Can you talk some sense into this idiot? Please?"</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Iris moved over and said "they don't need to. They are out cold…the shock must have worn off. We need to lay them down and get this off" scarlet helped over the boss to free bed and laid them on it. "Come on, let's get this stuff enough to get to the wound…any idea where this thing started? It's like a wrapped mess"</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia Matias helped with the procedure, cradling the boss's legs and settling them down on the bloodied sheets. He eyed Scarlet as she spoke before looking back at the boss's pseudocorpse. With no blood or shadows or aggression in the way, he could now take a proper gander at what the group was looking at. "Look," he said, pointing at the notable mark on the boss's chest. "That's the actual wound, pretty sure. Never seems anything like it, honestly. The marks..." His fingers floated over the raised lines sprouting over the boss's skin from the wound itself. "... Is this magic or something?"</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Scarlet was looking closely and said "it's smart armor. I think the best from the bolt is what broke thru it. We need to find the latches. Let's get the cloak off" They started to pull the fabric off and back until they saw the chest plate. At the corners were latches which Iris undid. When they pulled it back, they heard the pressure release. When they finally got the armor off they stopped. The wound was sitting under the heart, but there was a shirt covering more then the wound. Scarlet looked up and said "the boss is a girl?"</s>	<\|message\|>Matias Valencia At least the plate had the decency to open on its own. Still, it was rather surreal to see even part of the boss uncloaked. He was about to grab the med kits set aside when Scarlet spoke. It was almost a blessing Matias was facing away from her, because the face he made was anything but pretty. Scrunched nose, furrowed brow, clenched jaw... All in all, not too happy. He took a moment to take in a single breath to calm his nerves before facing the boss again. "Now's not the time to be assuming people's identities," he grumbled, "Get some dressing ready. I'm gonna disinfect this." He took a pad from one kit and a bottle of alcohol in another, then dampened the former with the latter. The resulting chemical smell filled Matias's nostrils. He gently pulled up the boss's shirt, which took some effort as the fabric around the afflicted area was just beginning to stick to their skin. "If you're awake... This is gonna sting." He dabbed the pad on the edges of the wound, careful not to do it directly on it just yet. He saw the pad gaining rust-like stains, but he continued despite it.</s>
<\|description\|>Matias Valencia Race: Human, White Hispanic Sex: Male Looks: A short (5'4'') man with an athletic build. He has long black hair that's messy and goes down to around his shoulders. He has a black stubble beard that he keeps at medium length. He has deep, brown eyes with dark circles hanging underneath. A mole sits under his left (viewer's right) eye. Skills: Trained kickboxer, artist Weapons: Usually fights with bare hands/brass knuckles, uses blunt objects if necessary. Carries around a small hand gun but rarely uses it to conserve ammo Weaknesses: Short-fused, stubborn, grudger, selfish, sadistic</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia Matias hobbled over to Dante to get a closer look at the file. The aforementioned information was on this particular sheet, barely discernable in the ocean of condensed font but still there. "Then there's gotta be a slave owner," he said, "that might clue us in. Then again, I feel like this might be a collective effort..." He then looked towards Iris and company. "How's the boss looking? Think they'll make it?"</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Iris looked over and said "we are pushing luck here but she's not human so it's helping…I think I'll be able to fix this…" Bane was by the window and looking around. "Think we can get her out of here? It's going to look bad if any office worker walks in" Donny nodded and said "yes, there's a escape door in her private office. Just in case of something like this. She has nothing else on her schedule today" Midnight coughed and said weakly "no…it's too risky…don't risk yourselves for my sake…"</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia "Me cago en la..." Matias threw his head up from the file, his fist slamming against the desk. He was glaring directly at Midnight now. "Will you just let us help you?! If we stay here, we're gonna be in even bigger trouble, and you might just die right here. I get you need your anonymity, but seriously." Matias stood up, hands on his hips. "Where's that office? We can't waste any more time."</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Donny jumped up and opened the door to the next room. "In here. Behind the bookcase. Go down the stairs and there's the coach waiting there. We always keep it there in case of emergencies" Bane nodded and went into the office with the fawn. Iris moved back and said "she's stable enough we can move her. I get her back to the warehouse and I can finish this" Midnight sighed and said "I'm sorry…I thought this would be safer…with the notes everyone keeps finding…I didn't want to add more risk…"</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia Matias let out an exasperated sigh, his head lowering slightly as his eyes closed tightly but briefly. "We can worry about everything else later," he said, "but first we have to worry about you. Now come on." He stepped over to Midnight's left and hooked her arm in his. With Iris's help he carried the boss over to the room as directed. Past the bookcase sat the staircase, just as promised; still, he almost tripped in his haste. Thankfully, this flight of stairs was much more forgiving than the ones he traversed previously, but Matias could already feel his legs start to cry. "Don't even make me think about stairs when we're out of here," he grumbled.</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Iris held her up as she said "promise. No more stairs. You thought fast." Bane was at the bottom and opened the door, heading outside. When they reached it there was a black coach sitting out front with a robotic horse sitting in front waiting. Bane blinked then helped the pair get Midnight to the coach. "This thing is kinda cool. Old school meets nowadays"</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia While Matias had to admit that it was his first time seeing a horse-drawn carriage in person– let alone one as modernized as this– he had little time to visually appreciate it as the three hauled Midnight inside. He scrambled in place a bit as he tried to find the steps (More stairs! What did he just say?!), but he thankfully did, climbing up and setting himself down on the first seat he could find. But then his hand went to his mouth. "Wait," he said, "Where's this thing gonna take us? The warehouse?"</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Bane jumped to the front and said "looks like you can drive it or it has an autopilot…to the old part of the upper level" Iris poked her head out and said "we need the closer location. The boss won't last like this for long" Midnight was shaking, her wound starting to bleed again. Dante shut to the steps and the coach and said "take us the upper level. It's closer. It's probably her house" bane nodded and hit the autopilot and the horse started to move, faster then they would have thought for a horse.</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia The inertia from the sudden movement nearly hurled Matias over his seat, though his legs got quite the stretch. He let out a yelp as he gripped the lower edge of the seat, attempting to stabilize himself. "This thing's fast," he huffed, patting his feet on the ground. It was then that he noticed Midnight bleeding once again. He had a good reach on her, so he took one hand and gently pressed it on the wound, over the fabric of her shirt. The dampness under his palm grew with time, but he didn't move for even a second. "Deep breaths," he muttered, looking forwardd now.</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Midnight looked at him and said "thank you…" Iris was working on a bandage with medication on it. "Just breath boss. Look at Matias. Try not to pass out till we get there" Bane was watching the route, making sure there wasn't anyone following. Iris looked at Dante and said "you alright? Did you get hit?" Dante looked over and shook his head. Midnight flinched again and her hand found Matias's other one and held it.</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia The more the carriage rattled along, the wetter Matias's palm got. Still, he didn't move. His hand pressed a tad harder onto the wound to try and contain the flow. "You almost done with that?" Matias asked Iris. "I'm not sure if I can hold the blood for any lo–?" There was a sudden, shaky warmth at his free hand, making him jolt. He looked down and saw a pale hand gripping at it weakly. He would have yanked himself away had he not seen who the hand was attached to. Well, he probably would have anyway, but the boss was quite literally dying at this point. Some tact would be nice. So he gripped it right back, running his thumb along the middle knuckle. "We're almost there. I hope."</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Iris nodded and moved over, lifting Matias hand enough to switch out the bandage with the new skin with medicine and laid it on the wound. Midnight gasped in pain and the shadows in the coach moved with her pain. Bane cursed as the whole coach moved and yelled "we are almost there! What is going on in there"</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia Matias swore and jumped, his knees shooting up to his chest as he anticipated a fall. The innards of the carriage creaked with each shift in movement. "Those things," he yelled, pointing vaguely at the blurry black figures. "The shadow things! They're freaking out!" His sight focused on Midnight now, who looked in serious pain. With both hands now free he laid them atop her upper side and rubbed her softly. "¿Que pasas? Just hold on for a little longer, we're almost there..." He then looked forwards, doubt clouding his head.</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Bane cursed and said "we are almost there hold on…" Iris was sealing the wound and said "I got it. Just get us there Bane!" Dante was holding Midnight's shoulders as they suddenly turned and pulled to a stop. Bane jumped down and opens the door. They came out to a old school manor. It was nice but not over done. Dante jumped out and said "nice place. A lot like her office" Iris kicked Dante out of the way and said "Matias can you carry her out?"</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia Matias could see the shadows relaxing from the corner of his eye, although his main focus was making sure Midnight couldn't agitate them again. There was a sudden twist that threatened to toss him off his seat, but he remained as glued as he could. His breathing was slightly labored by the time they arrived. "Huh?" He looked from his seat. It was Iris. "Uh... Sure." As gingerly as he could, he shimmied Midnight's body into his arms. "Ven." Now that he was cradling her, he slowly took himself off his seat and stepped out of the carriage with slow and gentle footing. Once his boots met the floor, he looked up at the manor. It was nice. At least it wasn't eye-bleedingly gold. "Mija," he said, looking down at Midnight, "you got keys or something so we can go inside?"</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Midnight flinched then said weakly "door code…the year of the last war…" Iris heard her and moved to the door, punching it in and the doors opened. When they walked inside the lights turned on and a cyber wolf appeared at the top of the stairs. It moved his head to follow him and Bane said "holy crap she built the horse…" Iris moved up the stairs, midnight barely staying awake in matias's arms.</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia Do elevators just not exist for these people? Aren't they supposed to be rich? Thankfully, Matias's legs were rested enough that he was confident about being able to make the flight. He climbed slowly, his legs only mildly complaining. One he reached the top, he was about to follow the group, but he stopped and looked down at Midnight. His blood ran cold for a moment when he saw that her eyes were barely open. "Hey," he whispered, rocking her softly. "Wake up. I need to ask you something." He looked left and right and then down. "Where's your room?"</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Midnight flinched again then said "down the hall…the last door…it has the big window…" Iris was looking around as Bane went to make sure the house was secure. Dante moved next to Matias and said "I'll get the doors. Come on" The pair took the boss down the hallway and Dante opened the door. The room was nice, but like everything else not to the level of upper level. More of a old school comfort. Dante moved to the window and hit the switch for the shades, raising them up. The bed was a queen and in the middle of the wall next to the huge wall of windows that faced the sunset. Fitting for a shadow elemental. Dante moved to get the blankets back, which looked like the bed hadn't been slept in for a while. Midnight gasped as they laid her down and Dante added "I think we lost the doctor. I'll go get her" he vanished out of the room, leaving the pair alone.</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia Matias looked down the hall and followed Dante inside the room. The floorboards underneath his feet creaked softly with every step he took. He was blinded for just a moment as the shades went up, the sun in close range to the window. Once his vision returned, he looked towards the bed, envious that it wasn't his. It was stripped by Dante and pressed upon by Midnight's body being gently laid on top. The creak from her weight was barely audible. "Let me know if you need anything," Matias said, I'll be here waiting for the others." He perched himself by the window, looking out. From here he could see a bit of the city bustling in all its golden obnoxiousness. On occasion he looked back at Midnight to see how she was doing, but he remained where he sat.</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Midnight was trying to take deep breathes as she looked over at Matias. "I'm sorry for all of this…telling me about the notes you've been finding? I need to keep talking or I will pass out again…" The door opened and Iris came in with Dante and rushed to the bed to start up working again.</s> <\|message\|>Matias Valencia The sound of Midnight's quivering voice made Matias look back with a dull albeit concerned expression. He raised an eyebrow at her question. "The notes? Not sure why you want to talk about that now of all times, but..." He turned around, pulling one leg up to his lap. "I found another one this morning. It had a different set of coordinates. I have it... Uh..." He dug in his jacket pocket, swearing under his breath when he realized it wasn't there anymore. Dante's entrance, however, clued him in on its current location. "Hey," he called over to Dante, "do you still have that note I gave you this morning?"</s> <\|message\|>Iris Meadow Dante nodded and pulled it out, handing it back to him and said "ya we haven't had a chance to take it to lab" Iris looked over but kept working on the wound before her. "It's bad but we have gotten ahead of it. I can fix this better now. Just hang in there for me boss…"</s>	<\|message\|>Matias Valencia Matias took a moment to open the note and read it to himself. There really wasn't much to read, but it was much to think about. "𝙳𝙾 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙹𝙾𝙱," it screamed for all eternity. Seemingly following the note's orders, he opened a web browser on his phone and painstakingly typed every character of the given coordinates. It was only so because his memory was admittedly poor, but he managed. It was seemingly for naught, however, because his search engine mapped said coordinates seemingly in the middle of nowhere. No businesses or even roads covered the area for miles. "Freaking weirdo," he grumbled under his breath, putting his phone away. "I think I gave you the first note I got," he said, directing his words at Midnight now. "If you manage to get better, we can run that one by the lab too..." He let out a soft huff. "I just... hope you get better."</s>
<\|description\|>Erick Appearance: Height: 5'9, medium lean and muscular build. Complexion: Fair, evidence - small nicks and scars - of his experience in combat. Dark blonde hair clipped to a French crop. Hazel eyes. Facial hair generally well kept and short. Attire: Everyday clothes are usually understated, plain linen; a long-sleeve belted tunic, trousers with leg wraps and leather shoes or low cut boot, leather bracers, fit for sparring or riding. Court clothes would include an embroidered quilted tunic (belted) dyed in a deep red or blue over a shirt, and appropriately matching trousers and tall leather boots, a dense fur-trimmed cloak is worn across one shoulder closed together with a heavy silver ouroboros broach, and some articles of jewellery; necklaces and rings. Age: 21 Bio: Erick is the middle child of King Henrick, who rules the northern Kingdom of Jörda. The fringes of the country begin at the other side of the river that cuts through Sahas, they have hard borders up against several Gilthan states in the far north and west, meaning the Kingdom has been involved in conflicts for some time to push back Gilthan advance. Fortunately, much of the northern terrain is hilly and mountainous and larger settlements in Jörda are heavily fortified, King Henrick however fears these advantages will not be sufficient to halt enemy advances indefinitely, and has therefore decided that an alliance with Astalia will be necessary in the preservation of the sovereignty of Jörda. Jörda has fertile land centrally and south towards the river, highly self sufficient in growing crops for textiles and food, it's people, whom are predominantly human, are also skilled boat builders; they make use of the river for freshwater fishing as well as occasional access to the Eastern sea where settlements aren't near the coast. The mountainous regions are rich in ores and some precious metals, consequently, Jörda produces some of the hardest metal weaponry. Jörda traders abroad may be seen with wares such as animal pelts, textiles, and fine crafted weapons and jewellery. Erick's older brother Andor, whom was the eldest of the three children, was killed some months ago in a bloody battle at the northern front, from which Erick has returned after completing his brother's work. He is a skilled swordsman, equestrian and archer. There has been little time for Erick to pursue other interests outside the scope of warfare, as the country is embroiled in perpetual conflict, and he has been tasked with defending the people of Jörda.</s> <\|message\|>Loreena Altera Lore's eyebrows raised some as Sulhana stepped forward and addressed the princes who arrived. What was she up to? She passed a look to Uriah, who simply lifted a shoulder in an elegant shrug. "The Princess of Whispers speaks loudly and boldly so quickly," the ghost voice of her teacher murmured near silently in her ear. Loreena suppressed making a face at him in response. The elder princess did pull a slightly exasperated face at Sulhana as she extended the invitation. "Everything is going to be safe to eat and drink, right, love? I'm not entirely convinced after that display" she teased gently, only for the siblings to hear. It was no secret to the sisters their various general viewpoints on the matter, Loreena thus far being the only one to openly seem excited about the prospect of experiencing life beyond their lands, even if it was against a backdrop of conflict. When Sulhana stepped away, Lore approached the princes in turn, Uriah at her heels. From his robes, he produced small boxes, and held them while Loreena selected the ones she desired and moved to each prince. Taking a box, she offered it to Vyarin. "Dro Vyarin," she began, speaking in a passably accented Prozdy language, "please accept my welcome to our home." Within the box was a jewel set into an intricate knot of ribbons, the colors of the house of Astalia. Lore continued in the language, though ot was obvious she was not fluent. "A symbol of strength, unity, and longevity, we are honored you are here." She did not bow nor expect him to, acknowledging him as equal. She moved on to Alvaro, taking a box and presenting to to him with the traditional elven bow to an equal. Within Alvaro's box was a jewel, wrapped in and set in a backdrop of pure silver wire, intricately curled and twisted in the style of traditional elvish scrollwork. "A symbol of passion and elegance, I welcome you warmly to our home." Gil was next, and she gave him a respectful bow. "Prince Gil, thank you for accepting our invitation." She offered his box. Within was a braided ribbon of Astalian colors, from the end dangled another jewel, a ribbon for his hair if he chose to wear it. "A symbol of courage and good fortune, I hope you feel welcomed in our home." And finally, she came to Erick, giving him a proper Jördanian greeting. "Prince Erick, I hope your journey was not too taxing." She offered Erick his gift. Within the box was a dark yellow jewel entwined with black and gray ribbon embroidered with spun gold thread. His house colors. "A symbol of loyalty and trust, it is my hope that you feel welcome here." Having been carefully inspected by Uriah for accuracy and propriety, the princess had carefully tailored each gift personally for the individual princes in the days and weeks leading up to their arrival. The tokens had been handmade by her, a personal gift to welcome her new brothers and one that would hopefully mean something sentimental to her own potential suitor.</s> <\|message\|>Gil Jalal \| \| \| \| ______________________________________ \| \| --- Looking around Gil observed the other Princes who had accepted the invite. He had been given a crash course on each of them. As much as possible at least. His country was small, new, and lacked the resources to get certain information. Most of what he knew came straight from the mouths of the people from his Kingdom and he wasn't sure how much was true and how much were rumors and speculation. Either way he took what he could get with a grain of salt. His blue eyes also glanced over the Astalian Royal Family. They too were surprisingly different. He wondered how a family who was supposedly all related by the same blood could vary so greatly. He figured it was something to do with the late Queen, who had only been described to him as a beautifully kind woman. Though he supposed his siblings also varied greatly, both in appearance and personality. Gil was lost in thought when the King started his speech and by the time he had focused back in, the man had already finished speaking. He would have to ask Sioban what was said later, Aldar would only scold him for not paying attention the first time. Before he had the chance to move one of the Princesses was standing to address them. She spoke in a manner that commanded just as much attention as his own mother. As though she knew more than she was letting on. It piqued his interest to say the least and he listened to what she had to say to each of them, hoping to glean something new about the men that stood around him, as well as simply being fascinated by this woman who was addressing them. The Prodzy prince and himself made this woman look like a child and yet her presence was nothing if not large. When she finally moved to address him directly he couldn't help but smile at her knowledge of his culture. Most simply chose to believe his people were cruel brutes so the fact that she knew something as simple as how his people showed their status and their achievements made him happy. The small smile on his face persisted when she moved to the last of the Princes. She ended her address with an invitation to an event of sorts and then she was gone. He had but just a moment to think before yet another Princess stood to address them. She too commanded the attention in the room but in a different way, he couldn't quite put his finger on it. This woman also addressed each Prince individually though from what he could see she offered gifts. When she offered him the box he gently took it, curious as to what it could be. He opened it to reveal the braided ribbon. He looked at the gift and then back to the woman who had offered it. As per his culture he would not be able to add the ribbon to his hair himself but he bowed his head in thanks and passed the box off to Sioban, who would have to look it over and perform the proper rituals before Gil could don the braided ribbon. Regardless, if the ancestors permitted he had every intention of adding the braid to his person. The princess moved to address the next Prince and finally there was pause enough for him to speak up. He stepped forward to address the King Aldar on his heels, holding a long rectangular box. "It is common practice in my culture, when visiting a leader of another clan, to present said leader with a gift, commonly said gift is a weapon. From my father to you I present this sword crafted by my country's best dwarven smith." His voice deep and his Astalian mediocre at best. Aldar walked forward presenting the box, now opened, to the King revealing a simple blade with a heavily decorated hilt. The sword itself was very similar to that of a long sword however the decorative hilt was shorter than standard and the hilt also bore a metal guard where the hand would be placed. The box was taken by the King who looked it over and then handed the box off to a servant. The older man nodded in thanks and Gil stepped back, Aldar having already done so once the box was taken.</s>	<\|message\|>Erick So it transpired that Erick was indeed the first to arrive at the Astalian palace, the others however, weren't far behind him much to his relief - he gathered they too had perhaps made camp on the periphery throughout the lands so that they may arrive at the proper time of the invitation. The second suitor, a Prozdy warrior of immense size, heralded his arrival with the battering of metal which indeed caught Erick's attention, it was not a noise he was unaccustomed to, in fact, quite the contrary. When the figure of Vyarin emerged into the spaces of the palace, the Jörda prince surveyed him with discretion; each and every man would surely be looking to secure their hold on Astalia by means of the eldest daughter as Erick too, had been advised. He wondered if she, in her particular misfortune, would at least have any say to whom she was to be wed. The third prince, an elf, lean but too appeared to be well trained, moved with the grace and aura that the people of his realm seemed to do so. The elven prince acknowledged him, and Erick had blinked and dipped his head slightly in due response. The final prince, for there were four daughters of King Harold, was the half-orc prince of Afdan, the desert country at the far-flung reaches of the continent, the climate far different from that of Jörda. The Afdan prince had a handsome appearance, his heavy orcish features somewhat subdued by what Erick assumed was human blood, his demeanour seemed fairer too than what the reputations spoke of the orcish race. Erick it seemed, standing only at an average height for his people, was the shortest in stature amongst the princes; it didn't faze him however, and he held his space just as the other suitors. The group of princes, now assembled, were ushered into the main hall where the Astalian King was prepared to greet them, the princesses were also waiting for their arrival. A smaller division of Erick's entourage had followed with him into the hall, each of them knelt to one knee and bowed their heads to the King, not dissimilar but certainly different from the Prozdy gesture, Erick uttered a bold "Your Grace" before they once again arose. Erick understood the Astalian language fairly well, for they were neighbours across the great river, but he spoke with a thick accent of his native tongue. The Jörda prince regarded the King's greeting in his own language to be an expression of deep respect, despite the slight falter in pronunciations. King Harold went on to describe the events that were to occur and confirmed his daughters would indeed take a suitor of their choosing, or at least, within the constraints of what little choice there was. Erick feared given the arrangement, that his spouse regardless would have little association with him outside the scope of the marriage contract; would they be the kind of woman, wives that would make themselves scarce save for their nuptial duties, as perhaps their culture and their kingdom demanded? He could think of almost nothing more miserable. He examined the daughters each in turn as they were introduced, all very beautiful in their own way, and noted that Annalise was the eldest. As the King concluded his speech, giving the guests permission to disperse (this admittedly was a great desire Erick had to resist), one of the daughters stepped forward to speak before addressing each of the princes in turn. She was small and particularly slender with dark features, despite her small frame, her voice and demeanour had a presence that would not be ignored. Erick wasn't sure how to describe it, besides the creeping feeling of a bad dream that you couldn't quite remember once you awoke. When Sulhana spoke to him directly however, he could detect the sincerity in her condolences and he received her remarks with appreciation, "thank you for your kind words Princess Sulhana, my brother has brought great honour to our House, he will dine well with the Gods at their table" he expressed, suppressing the flicker that threatened to cross his brow, as such he could not muster a smile for the princess, but tightened his jaw and nodded gently before she turned to take the platform. The Princess made her announcement - Erick would have some Court games to play it seemed. Another daughter, Loreena, stepped forward. Erick sensed a gentleness in her character and, as she presented the thoughtful gifts to each suitor in turn, also some enthusiasm in meeting with them. He received the gift from her with both palms, meeting her gaze, "Princess Loreena, you have my gratitude, I already feel most welcomed" he bowed his head modestly clasping the gift but not yet examining it, as he was not sure if it was quite appropriate to do so. As the Princess moved on, he passed the item with particular care to one of his attendants for safe keeping - he would open it later that evening.</s>
<\|description\|>Erick Appearance: Height: 5'9, medium lean and muscular build. Complexion: Fair, evidence - small nicks and scars - of his experience in combat. Dark blonde hair clipped to a French crop. Hazel eyes. Facial hair generally well kept and short. Attire: Everyday clothes are usually understated, plain linen; a long-sleeve belted tunic, trousers with leg wraps and leather shoes or low cut boot, leather bracers, fit for sparring or riding. Court clothes would include an embroidered quilted tunic (belted) dyed in a deep red or blue over a shirt, and appropriately matching trousers and tall leather boots, a dense fur-trimmed cloak is worn across one shoulder closed together with a heavy silver ouroboros broach, and some articles of jewellery; necklaces and rings. Age: 21 Bio: Erick is the middle child of King Henrick, who rules the northern Kingdom of Jörda. The fringes of the country begin at the other side of the river that cuts through Sahas, they have hard borders up against several Gilthan states in the far north and west, meaning the Kingdom has been involved in conflicts for some time to push back Gilthan advance. Fortunately, much of the northern terrain is hilly and mountainous and larger settlements in Jörda are heavily fortified, King Henrick however fears these advantages will not be sufficient to halt enemy advances indefinitely, and has therefore decided that an alliance with Astalia will be necessary in the preservation of the sovereignty of Jörda. Jörda has fertile land centrally and south towards the river, highly self sufficient in growing crops for textiles and food, it's people, whom are predominantly human, are also skilled boat builders; they make use of the river for freshwater fishing as well as occasional access to the Eastern sea where settlements aren't near the coast. The mountainous regions are rich in ores and some precious metals, consequently, Jörda produces some of the hardest metal weaponry. Jörda traders abroad may be seen with wares such as animal pelts, textiles, and fine crafted weapons and jewellery. Erick's older brother Andor, whom was the eldest of the three children, was killed some months ago in a bloody battle at the northern front, from which Erick has returned after completing his brother's work. He is a skilled swordsman, equestrian and archer. There has been little time for Erick to pursue other interests outside the scope of warfare, as the country is embroiled in perpetual conflict, and he has been tasked with defending the people of Jörda.</s> <\|message\|>Vyarin Kremazov Finding this 'Court of Flowers' was easier in Vyarin's mind than it was quickly turning out to be. The palace was tall, imposing even on the inside, intricately decorated down to the smallest corner. In his lone eye, the world within seemed stretched upwards uncannily, like cowhide in a tannery. Windows stood the height of two of himself, but barely the width of three-quarters himself, packed closely together in organized regiments one after the other. The effect was exacerbated by the figure of the doorways that line the halls and the various items of furnishing and decoration, all built conversely too small for him. He had to duck down to enter into giant spaces. It was a fever dream to navigate, like something out of the maddest stories his carers would tell to him. In the end, Vyarin decided the best path forward was tried and true methodology. It was simple, once he thought back on it. He will simply start entering doors and offshoots until he reached the Court of Flowers. There were only so many places a courtyard fit for a party could be; he will doubtless stumble onto it long before it ended. So, alone and armed with his conviction, he began his search . . . and immediately rammed headlong into a particularly thin candle sconce. Rubbing his temple and glowering, he righted the object, looking around for any sign of disturbed castellans, which there fortunately were none. He will keep a hand to the wall at all times. Path after path, road after road, a few minutes began to stretch to near the majority of an hour. Most of the rooms he came across were as strange themselves as devoid of flowers. Some were bare of all things, blocked off by a simplistic looking door, awaiting a renovation that may take centuries to come. Others were perhaps bedchambers, but so clean that it was most like prepared for some guest that will never arrive, as evidenced by the thin sheen of dust upon the desks and sheets. Good luck was on Vyarin's side, for he did not stumble upon any spaces already occupied, and quite unfriendly to his sudden intrusion. Yet, as his ears picked up the faint sounds of some commotion, he concluded that was not to be for long. Instinctively, he felt relieved at the presence of a resident of some sort. He could ask their guide towards this elusive Court. Then, he stopped short, realizing the fault in that reasoning. It would entail him having to communicate his own desire, as well as understand their response all in Astalian. Holding a hand to his forehead, he rehearsed some crude phrases to himself. "Excuse . . . where . . . the Chamber of the . . . the Primrose? The Chamber of the Primrose . . . is . . . to be? Excuse, where the Chamber of the Primrose . . . is to be . . ." He nodded, and raised himself to full height, striding purposefully in. He didn't know what to expect from this next room, but that was not it. A lone girl, one of the four daughters in fact, armed with a sword far larger than his own, dancing about and striking at invisible foes. Vyarin could only watch for a few moments, observing the movements closely. They were precise, swift, she is obviously familiar with their use. Was it their way, in this strange land, to arm and train women as one would do for the men? "Excuse," he finally said, breaking the silence. He pointed to the sword, the one so great it must be wielded in two hands. "Apology. Is . . . interest. Very interest." A heavy silence fell on the room, absent of the clatter of shoes on polished wood.</s> <\|message\|>Jinayah Altera At footsteps, Jinayah grumbled very faintly. She had her back turned and was still midswing, thinking it was one of her sisters coming to collect her. "Yes, I'm going to the party in just a moment, let me finish this." Of course she had said that to herself nearly 20 minutes back, and again at 10 minutes. But the voice that spoke out was definitely none of her sisters, neither was it her father or any of the other knights she knew by name. Ever so slowly, she turned around, finally seeing Prince Vyarin darkening the doorway. "Ah." Carefully, she sheathed the practice blade and stared just a bit at him. What to say? She imagined he had a thousand questions, the first of which was likely why a woman was allowed a blade in the first place. "He- hello Prince Vyarin." She dipped a low curtsy, the tip of the scabbard at her back nearly brushing the ground. "Er, I suppose you're wondering what I'm doing out here instead of at the party." Was she imagining that shocked gaze? He looked so blank she wasn't sure what to do. "M-my father has permitted me the use of the sword since I was of age to start squire training. If you wish to know what was behind that decision, please feel free to ask him." The sword, despite it not being hers, gave her courage. Her carefully coifed hair was in disarray, and there was dust on the edges of her pink gown. But she was still of the royal family and would command herself as such. "If you wish to know why I wanted to learn anyway, well, look around you. The Empire creeps insidious into our back rooms, taking what they will from our people. I will not sit by and do needlepoint while my world is taken from me. I have no kingdom to inherit, no magic, no spies. By Gods, if all I have is a blade and my body, that will be enough." "Father may see me as a piece on a board and that's just fine. But I aim to be the Steel Dragoon, if I'm to be a piece at all." In the game of war, the Steel Dragoon was a most sought after piece to get onto the board. It could capture and remove adjacent pieces, sometimes drastically changing the flow of the game in its wake. "No man, not even you, will keep me from this ambition." Her piece said, she waited with head held high for the outrage. Instead, she just found confusion on the Prince's face. Only then did she remember the translator from earlier. "Oh no. You didn't understand a word of that, did you?" She smiled in a truly embarrassed way and shook her head, her cheeks burning. What to say now? Slowly, she put the sword back in the rack with its brothers, and took a moment to collect herself. "Good evening, Prince Vyarin." She said in careful Prodzy. She had practiced these phrases for a solid month, but they were slipping from her mind as she spoke. "It is… an evening of beauty, no? What is your… preference - no, purpose! What is your purpose?"</s>	<\|message\|>Erick The constellation of Aldask hung in the sky above the courtyard, Erick was confident this was a good omen. As one story went, Aldask, the most ancient and powerful of the Gods, often concealed himself as a stag in the realm of the mortal creatures. One day a human happened upon him, he notched an arrow in his hunting bow and let it fly, strong and true it plunged into the chest of the deer-God. As the arrow struck, the figure of the stag shattered into many large, shining shards which slashed deep wounds through the skin of the hunter, miraculously he survived but his sight was taken by the blinding light of Aldask; the human had only a few moments to witness this splendour, as the God's earthly shell shattered. The hunter somehow stumbled home and told the experience to his kinsfolk which quickly spread throughout his fellow countrymen. It was agreed that from that day forth, a prayer must be uttered to Aldask before striking a deer, bow or otherwise, so the God may grant them exception to their mistake. In many areas of Jörda, this story was often interpreted to extend to any and every kind of animal. The Court of Flowers appeared almost as if timelessness itself may reside here, where the Gods retired to recite their ballads. As the glow of the sun began to wane, the moon cast its cold and mysterious light in the darker places the torches did not reach, mánibjart as this was called, where the lunar luminance gave for a short time divine and unpredictable power to the spaces otherwise enveloped in darkness, and sometimes, provided a gateway through which to glimpse the other worlds. The old magic was ingrained deeply into the people of Jörda, through tales and stories of the old Gods, but the true knowledge of it had been lost through time as the progress of man - of whom very few knew how to wield such power - dominated the natural and previously wild spaces of their land, and so it faded into myth and legend. Fear, reverence and yet acceptance, of this unpredictable magic, that presented a divide the thickness of a single thread between life and death, decay and rebirth - the domain in which Aldask conducted the fates of all within the mortal realm, remained strong however. There were only four of them who had yet attended the courtyard, The Princesses Sulhana and the eldest, Annalise seemed to watch them approach from the platform with a collection of silent instruments. Erick had caught up to the Prince Gil, who had dipped his head in greeting the Princesses from a short distance, the Jörda prince addressed him in Orcish, "my friend, strength is upon you" he stated, extending his hand as such that may lock their arms in the way of the Orcish warriors, he met the bright blue eyes of the half-orc with his own of deep hazel. Erick was not fluent in the Orcish language, but was familiar with a few words, statements and greetings (although he wasn't sure if the dialect was quite the same) from the warriors amongst the ranks of Jörda's military - how they came to be there however, was a subject of particular tension between the two nations and was a matter of on-going diplomatic effort. Although Erick's greeting may have been received with some distrust, the Afdan prince responded in kind before they turned their attention to the Princess Sulhana who had stepped forward with her sister to welcome them. Erick approached and he bowed to the Princesses in a similar display; yet his eyes did not avert meeting with their own each of them in turn, "Princesses" he stated in acknowledgement. The Princess Annalise was quiet, reserved, and seemed to allow her younger sister to take the lead, the Princess Sulhana was not unlike someone else he knew - bold, forthcoming…challenging? There was an underlying tone in her voice and gestures that seemed to imply that sometimes, oftentimes, her thoughts and words were misaligned, much like his little sister - a formidable foe…or ally perhaps, yet given their gender this usually was expressed in a far more subtle yet no less unsettling manner. Sulhana's green eyes burned into him, examining, scrutinising in fine detail - he'd seen it before, her words were lighthearted however, she laughed and winked alluring them to her playful challenge. Perhaps she'd like to see them try? Disarm them? Erick knew he'd have to tread carefully, inhibition and.. sense was quite easily lost in this way. "Princess Sulhana, Annalise, please, I would like it that I might drink as the people of Astalia do drink" he pulled a small grin, he would like a drink if nothing less for something simply to hold and channel his nerves should they falter, for he did not have the pommel of his sword to absorb this energy from him, as such he made do with gently gripping a part of his cloak as though it was meant to be gathered, whilst the other palm was folded gently but produced his gestures as he spoke, otherwise he could not help but thumb the heavy rings on his fingers, which he mostly refrained from doing.</s>
<\|description\|>Vyarin Kremazov appearance: Tall and incredibly built, Vyarin is the model of a warrior. Indeed, his form is the sort that would take up an entire doorway he would happen to pass through. In accordance with the religious reforms of half a century past, he keeps his blond hair shaved down to fuzz. His face is similarly shaved. However, most notable about him is the rag that obscures his left eye, wrapped around his head, that conceals the gaping remains of his eye. age: 19 bio: Vyarin was born to a most impressive pedigree. His father, the famed Zarrir "Usurper-of-Tyrants", had recently before Vyarin's birth led a successful rebellion against the so-called "Western Overlords" from across the Zpina mountain range. The Western Overlords' memory has been intentionally lost, with Zarrir having ordered all record of them destroyed and declaring that any who speak of them in his court have their tongues cut out. Thus, Vyarin's birth, coinciding rather neatly with the liberation, was considered highly auspicious by many. His name, "Vyarin", even means "of freedom" or "freeborn" in the now-dead Old Prozdy language. On his birth, Vyarin was given the courtesy titles of "Prince of Princes" (a title shared by his father), and "First Lord of the League". The League of which the second title represents is the nominally equal partnership of the great many rulers and nobles who had risen up alongside Prozdy against the Western Overlords, but in reality serve as effective vassals to Prozdy. Vyarin grew up among the militant court of his father. In the Prozdy culture, strength and stoicism were the highest virtues, and nobles who shied away from military pursuits were considered illegitimate to rule. Thus, Vyarin was given a rigorous education in fighting with a great variety of weapons, strategy and tactics, and a number of traditional sports. Thus, he grew up strong, accustomed to physical strain and resistant to the fear of death. At least, that was the visage he put on for the court to see. In truth, he found he tired often of the singleminded pursuit of conflict and victory that Prozdy society seemed to worship, and found he was rather curious regarding a great many subjects not taught to him. However, there wasn't much to be done about that. His father Zarrir was an iron-fisted ruler, grim and incredibly competent, and would likely stand for no deviation on his son's part. It was on Vyarin's coming-of-age day that his life changed rather oddly. During the celebrations, one of the princes of the League inadvertently insulted Vyarin before all the attendees. Zarrir, in a fit of rage, demanded that Vyarin and the prince duel with shashka to the death before the entire crowd. Neither were particularly interested in fighting this duel, and the prince offered to apologize, Zarrir's command was absolute, declaring that should either refuse this duel, they would be declared cowards and stripped of all honours. Eventually, after some heavy debate, a compromise was declared in which the two would fight only to first blood. The duel commenced, and ended when Vyarin fell forward, screaming and clutching at the left side of his face. Quickly, doctors were called, but the surgery was brutal, and perhaps did more damage to his eye than even the blade. Eventually, it was declared that Vyarin was blind in one eye. Zarrir, fearing for his son's life and his own court's stability, sent Vyarin away on the premise that he find a spouse. role in the story: Prince and suitor</s> <\|message\|>Gil Jalal --- --- "On the contrary, dear sister. He must prove he can hold his liquor." Annalise remarked to Lore as her sister entered the courtyard. There was a gentle smile on her face as Annalise removed the annoying half veil from her hair. Finally the slight discoloration of her right eye was no longer hidden. She silently hoped the setting sun would hide this from the suitors just a little longer, but it was a nice test. Their reaction to the realization that she did not have vision in her eye would tell her a lot about them. Finally she fully acknowledged the man who she had realized had moved closer to her asking if she drank like her sister. "I do indeed drink, though I would say Sulhana can, and does, outdrink me on the regular. But don't let that discourage you. What do you say Prince Erick, Lore, care to insert ourselves into Sulhana and Prince Gil's competition? Or Maybe we have our own competition." She raised her eyebrow and then turned to Uriah who she had seen shuffle to the side with the rest of the staff. "You wouldn't mind if Lore missed out on a day of training due to a hangover would you? Also not telling our father would be much appreciated." She smiled softly at the man who, had she had any magical talent, would have been her teacher. She had no doubt that the man would at least not tell their father about anything that happened here tonight. At least not anything as harmless as a drinking contest. \| \| \| \| ______________________________________ \| \| --- Gil couldn't help the stupid smile on his face when Sulhana asked if it was too late for him to pull his punches. "I do believe it was you who extended this challenge so I have no intention of going easy on you. Treat you as an equal I shall." He watched the princess move toward him with two glasses, one he assumed was for him and one for herself. He did his best not to run his eyes across her body. She was beautiful for sure, but he was still trying to be respectful. That was until she proposed a wager. His eyebrow raised as he listened to her speak. She knew what she was doing. He reached for the glass but it was quickly moved away from him and the contents consumed by the woman in front of him. "You have yourself a deal Princess." He wasn't going to tell her he would answer any questions she had about his culture without the wager. It was more fun this way. He wasn't sure her true game, and if he were honest, he didn't care. He had spent weeks traveling with nobody but Sioban and Aldar, only one of which was any sort of fun. "If I win you have to tell me what you really feel about all of…this." He motioned to the group that was already there, sure she would understand his meaning. She seemed to be an intelligent individual. He watched the woman as she turned and motioned him to follow, inviting him for a walk. He let out a little chuckle as he quickly poured himself not one but two drinks and quickly downed them. "Now we are even." He said as he stood to his full height and followed behind her. It was silent for a moment until she remarked about what she could give to fly. "I have only flown once. Though it was a cruel joke pulled on me by Sioban, the Shaman that traveled with me." He looked up at the stars with a small glimmer in his blue eyes. "At first there was fear, as my body left the sturdy familiarity of the ground. Then, even though I didn't get very high up before my brothers and Aldar made him put me down, pure joy. I was a small child when this happened, but I remember it like it was yesterday." He sighed, a weight now sitting on his shoulders, realizing that he would never feel that freedom again. Not after marrying one of the Princesses. He would have a duty, at the very least to his family, old and new. He hadn't realized the smile he wore had faded slightly at this realization. After a moment he shook his head a little, attention going back to the green eyed woman he now stood beside. Gil nervously scratched the back of his neck. Which pulled his collar down just enough to reveal the top of the black markings that covered part of his upper body. Tattoos he had recently gotten to decorate his body. "We seem to be missing your youngest sister, the Elven Prince and the Prozdy Prince, yes? I hope they didn't get lost. I know I almost did while I was exploring." He leaned on the stone railing, effectively bringing his eyes to her level. He didn't want to look down at her, nor did he feel right to make her look up to him. Putting them on the same level seemed the most respectful thing he could do. And seeing as the only way to do that was to either pick her up, or he slump, he opted to slump.</s> <\|message\|>Jinayah Altera "The sword?" Jin searched her mind for a suitable word in Prodzy, but she was coming up empty. Did the word not exist, or had she just forgotten? "Longsword." She finally said in Astalian. Switching back to Prodzy, she approached Vyarin carefully. After all, he did have a blade in his hand that he didn't know how to use. Sir Arnold had always beat it into their heads that an untrained novice was sometimes more dangerous than a trained professional. You had no idea what they could do. "Please to excuse." She gently gripped his hands and adjusted them on the hilt. "Better now." As far as she had read, Prodzy had plenty of weapons. So why was this one so curious to him? She would have to get with her sisters and ask them to translate better. Speaking of sisters – "Ah, wait! The Court of Flowers is waiting on us!" She looked down at herself. There was a bit of a mess on the very edges of her gown, but there was no time to change into another. Sighing softly and trying to rearrange her hair, she nodded to Vyarin. Briefly in Prodzy, she explained. "Come, follow!" Then she headed back inside, making sure Vyarin was somewhat behind her. With her short legs and his long ones, he could easily catch up. She led the way to the Court of Flowers, and paused once more before entering the area proper. There were going to be looks, she knew. But if they were to be her new brothers, and one a husband, they'd find out eventually. Best to discuss her proclivities on her own terms. Striding in with squared shoulders, Jin smiled warmly at all present. "Sorry I'm late. But I found one lost prince!" Seeing wine glasses already tabled (and some empty), she picked one up and took a sip. It was stronger than any they'd let her have before. Only a few years ago, they had been watering down her wine with meals. Was she suddenly such an adult now? Seeing Sulhana with that mischievous cat look on her face, and Annalise nearby, she went to Loreena instead. "Hi Lore. Having fun yet?" She curtsied briefly to Uriah as well. He wasn't royal, but his status garnered a lot of respect in her eyes. "I got… a little sidetracked. Do you think it'll be too noticeable?"</s>	<\|message\|>Vyarin Kremazov The Court of Flowers was well named, Vyarin thought, as he lumbered into the moderately sized meeting hall, adorned with flowers hanging from baskets all along the walls and peeking up from long vases an entire two thirds his own height. Heads of red and gold, violet, white, even pale blue clear as the sky bowed in solemnity as the shamans do. If they had arms, perhaps they would be raised above their heads as well, until the lack of blood left them white and hard as the branches of trees. Perhaps these flowers as well were of a mystical nature? Many things were in this land of the southeast, far from the natural ebbing of the spirits. They weave the world with their 'sorcery', raising large works of stone tall as mountains such as the building within which he stood right now. Recalling his amazement as he passed under the gates, he recalled how the entire estate seemed to grow out of the ground. What a marvel it was! He imagined taking some of this sorcery home with him, and transforming the entire cityscape with its power. Would they remember him as Vyarin 'the Magnificent' for his effort? The others had arrived first, sharing conversation amongst themselves sat about a table. Golden chalices were displayed in some of their hands, filled with a dark liquid that looked unlike any juice he had ever had or seen. Some turned to meet his new, sprightlier acquaintance as she bounded in, which inevitably led their gaze towards himself. Whether they were looking or not, Vyarin gave a small and curt nod to the six others, then ambled over to a corner of the table and swiped one of the chalices, lifting the contents to his nose and sniffing. That's when he realized what it was. It was forbidden, he knew. The shamans said again and again, for as long as he could hear them. That which is rotted has been given to the spirits, and is beyond its time for the world of men. This was Essence of the Rotted Grape! He could have stumbled at the noxious odour. Did they not realize that by its imbibing they become cursed? Surely they must know better, he thought, glancing at the faces of these merrymakers. Mayhaps it would not be so bad, that they would enjoy it and fear naught. Things were different here, after all, in these lands of magic and mystery. If he were to one day take charge of their armies, he must then learn to live as they live, and if that meant drinking this product of rot, then he could do so without too much concern. The spirits would understand, he concluded, as he lifted the chalice again to his lips and sipped of the fluid. It was a mistake, in the end. Gasping and reeling, he sat the cup down with a too-loud clang. It tasted as foul as it smelled, too bitter and thick and somehow wrong on a level fundamental to his soul. He felt dirty, the dregs that remain swilling under his tongue. He leaned on the wall, whispering curses the sky in Prozdy, hoping nobody paid too much mind to his outburst.</s>
<\|description\|>Vyarin Kremazov appearance: Tall and incredibly built, Vyarin is the model of a warrior. Indeed, his form is the sort that would take up an entire doorway he would happen to pass through. In accordance with the religious reforms of half a century past, he keeps his blond hair shaved down to fuzz. His face is similarly shaved. However, most notable about him is the rag that obscures his left eye, wrapped around his head, that conceals the gaping remains of his eye. age: 19 bio: Vyarin was born to a most impressive pedigree. His father, the famed Zarrir "Usurper-of-Tyrants", had recently before Vyarin's birth led a successful rebellion against the so-called "Western Overlords" from across the Zpina mountain range. The Western Overlords' memory has been intentionally lost, with Zarrir having ordered all record of them destroyed and declaring that any who speak of them in his court have their tongues cut out. Thus, Vyarin's birth, coinciding rather neatly with the liberation, was considered highly auspicious by many. His name, "Vyarin", even means "of freedom" or "freeborn" in the now-dead Old Prozdy language. On his birth, Vyarin was given the courtesy titles of "Prince of Princes" (a title shared by his father), and "First Lord of the League". The League of which the second title represents is the nominally equal partnership of the great many rulers and nobles who had risen up alongside Prozdy against the Western Overlords, but in reality serve as effective vassals to Prozdy. Vyarin grew up among the militant court of his father. In the Prozdy culture, strength and stoicism were the highest virtues, and nobles who shied away from military pursuits were considered illegitimate to rule. Thus, Vyarin was given a rigorous education in fighting with a great variety of weapons, strategy and tactics, and a number of traditional sports. Thus, he grew up strong, accustomed to physical strain and resistant to the fear of death. At least, that was the visage he put on for the court to see. In truth, he found he tired often of the singleminded pursuit of conflict and victory that Prozdy society seemed to worship, and found he was rather curious regarding a great many subjects not taught to him. However, there wasn't much to be done about that. His father Zarrir was an iron-fisted ruler, grim and incredibly competent, and would likely stand for no deviation on his son's part. It was on Vyarin's coming-of-age day that his life changed rather oddly. During the celebrations, one of the princes of the League inadvertently insulted Vyarin before all the attendees. Zarrir, in a fit of rage, demanded that Vyarin and the prince duel with shashka to the death before the entire crowd. Neither were particularly interested in fighting this duel, and the prince offered to apologize, Zarrir's command was absolute, declaring that should either refuse this duel, they would be declared cowards and stripped of all honours. Eventually, after some heavy debate, a compromise was declared in which the two would fight only to first blood. The duel commenced, and ended when Vyarin fell forward, screaming and clutching at the left side of his face. Quickly, doctors were called, but the surgery was brutal, and perhaps did more damage to his eye than even the blade. Eventually, it was declared that Vyarin was blind in one eye. Zarrir, fearing for his son's life and his own court's stability, sent Vyarin away on the premise that he find a spouse. role in the story: Prince and suitor</s> <\|message\|>Jinayah Altera Jin relaxed considerably as Lore adjusted her hairstyle. Her sister's touch was very warm and soothing. It was so much nicer than when her ladies in waiting did it. They always made the bun too tight. "Much better, Lore. Thank you." She smiled widely and took a delicate sip of the wine. It was delicious, and quite powerful, and had a different scent entirely than what they usually had with dinner. Sulhana was always good at choosing that kind of thing. "A drinking contest, hm? I suppose I will join. Consider this my entry." While she had grown used to the nonalcoholic cider in the silver cups, today was apparently the day she became an adult. She took another careful sip of the wine and watched as Vyarin sputtered over his. What was that about? Was he going to be alright? Lore was already on it, so she turned her attention to Hana as she approached. "I wouldn't have run away. Not from this. I'm supposed to be the bravest of all of us, aren't I? So here I am." She chuckled as she was engulfed in a hug. There had always been a bit of the dramatic in Hana, spymaster or not. She had always been the one to make up stories as children. Her speaking of governesses and new-dress days with four less than earnest young ladies brought a sparkle to her eyes and a grin to her face. It had been simpler, yes. Much simpler. Jin actually lost composure and blushed when Sulhana mentioned the armor she had received. But she was surprised at her elder sister's advice. "You think I should have? Perhaps. Then the men would know what they're really working with, instead of… this." Sometimes the fancy gowns felt like lying. She approached Prince Gil, swept a curtsy and smiled. Before they could really get to talk, however, Hana announced that dinner was on the table. Despite her earlier nerves, the head-clearing workout from earlier had made her rather hungry now. It would be good to sit and eat.</s> <\|message\|>Gil Jalal --- --- Annalise's attention remained on Uriah as he spoke, basically confirming what she already knew. She smiled at the mage, giving him a nod before turning her attention back to her sister and Prince Erick who had started talking about Lore's gift to the man. The eldest daughter knew that of the four of them it was Lore who was far more interested in this deal than the rest of them. From what she had seen she was the most invested out of all the nobles gathered. Anna smiled at her sister as she spoke about the jewel gifted to the Prince beside her. Even she didn't know the little tidbit that her sister shared. When it came to magic most of it went over her head. As she was musing to herself in her head Jin entered the courtyard followed closely by the Prozdy prince. She was not surprised by her youngest sister's disheveled appearance. It was not the first time she had been late to an event in favor of her blades, and it certainly would not be the last. She was about to move toward Jin but Lore beat her to the punch. Ever the caring one she took to fixing Jin's hair and fussing over their younger sister. She did however chime in when Lore blamed her for the drinking competition. "Actually that was more Hana, and Prince Gil's decision. I was simply here and thought it sounded fun." She knew Lore and Jin were not the drinkers that Hana and herself were. Father often insisted that none of them partake in the wine or if they did that it be watered down, however, Hana was always rebellious, and Annalise had taken to drinking to prove that she was no different than any of the male members of the court. Not that it helped, she was still constantly fighting to be heard even though the country would be hers very soon. Her mind wandered to the suitors, and who of them would allow her to rule her country, who would stay out of her way. Gil, the third Prince who Hana had gathered had no interest in a position of power such as the ruler of a country seemed a good option. He however had carefully avoided talking to her since he had arrived at the courtyard. She was sure that in Gil's eyes, she was his last choice. She knew nothing of the elven Prince who had yet to arrive at the courtyard so she couldn't make any assumptions on him at this point. Erick seemed polite enough and he might be content to command Astalia's armies and remain out of the finer aspects of ruling the country. Though again, this was only speculation. Lastly was Prince Vyarin who was also more or less a wild card. She was sure that if she wanted to be underhanded about it she could use his limited knowledge of her language to her advantage for a while. She wasn't that manipulative though. She shook the thought out of her head as Hana approached them with Gil on her heels. At the mention of food her stomach growled, she hadn't had much to eat today, the nerves had gotten the better of her so any food in her system would be extremely welcomed at this point. She had almost missed what Erick had asked her, lost in her own thoughts. "Hm?" Was all that escaped her lips before her brain fully registered what he had said. She moved to take a seat across from him rather than directly beside him. It was a deliberate action, keeping openings for the other Princes to attempt to make a move, while still remaining close enough to Erick to still interact with him. She waited until Hana finished speaking to reply to his earlier statement and question. "Unfair you say? On whose side, mine or yours?" She cocked her eyebrow at him as her good eye looked directly into his, a very small smirk playing at her lip. "As for how I would test you, well that is simple, we must each finish the same amount of drinks by the end of the night, whoever holds their alcohol better is the winner. In other words, whoever is less drunk." She emphasized her point by finishing her own glass to make them equal. "If I win…" She paused to think. There were two ways she could do this, the light hearted way or more serious. After a moment she chose the more light hearted option. As much as she wanted to let him know that her country came first, now was not the time. "If I win, you have to tell me an embarrassing story from your childhood. And since we are declaring Price Vyarin the judge he will have final say on who is the winner. Of course you get to name your prize as well, within reason of course." The smirk was now prominent on her face as she carefully ate a bit of the food that was put in front of her, her stomach instantly reacting to finally being fed. Her attention moved to the entryway as the final member of this elaborate political game joined them. "Ah Prince Alvaro, happy you could join us. We were just about to eat, please, feel free to join us. Also if you are interested, we have some drinking games in place if you would like to partake." She motioned to the food and drink on the tables and also to the free seats. \| \| \| \| ______________________________________ \| \| --- Gil watched Sulhana as she spoke. He was about to respond when the youngest Princess and the Prozdy Prince entered the courtyard. His eyes traced over the pair. The large male appeared more than out of his element and the smaller female clearly disheveled. His curiosity peaked at the two of them. What exactly had they been doing beforehand? He didn't assume anything promiscuous but still, he wondered. He couldn't help but let out a chuckle when Sulhana mentioned him falling for her already. Though he didn't get a chance to respond before she was off to greet her sister finishing off her drink as she did so. He too finished his drink, not wanting her to get ahead of him and followed her. He did his best not to listen in on the conversation Sulhana had with her sister so instead he wandered off a bit to get himself another drink, returning just as Sulhana moved away to make a speech before offering food. He opened his mouth to greet Jin just as she started talking and closed it to allow her to speak. At the mention of food his stomach growled, realizing he had not eaten since before his arrival to the castle. He decided it was as good a time as any to get seated and get some food in his system, especially if he was going to be drinking heavily. He walked over to the table and pulled out a seat, offering it to Jin, more out of habit than anything else. "I could use some food, how about you?" He questioned the Princess politely. "Besides, if we are going to be drinking we should probably make sure we aren't doing so on an empty stomach." He smiled as he took his own seat, child-like excitement to eat some food, and hopefully taste some Astalian dishes. He hadn't even noticed the Elven Prince enter as he seated himself.</s>	<\|message\|>Vyarin Kremazov Vyarin gratefully takes one of the silver cups, looking down into the well to see for himself. This did not look particularly different from the profaned drink of the gold cup, but an experimental sip told him that it was well and safe enough. Opposed to the chokingly bitter sample before, this was mild, sweet but with a spicy aftertaste. How did they manage that, he wondered? Did they crush apples into a chalice, and sprinkle in a dash of ground peppers? What an amazing culinary tradition this land of Astalia kept. His mind came alive with the most absurd things being served on a platter. Goat's livers covered in honey? Fresh honeygrass mixed in with fried horseflies? Entire frogs, stuffed full with stalks of raw grain? He was certainly willing to give them a try. "Let us go forth to glory," he sarcastically muttered in Prozdy, finally building up the courage to take a full swig from the spiced drink. It was a common phrase spoken before the consumption of a dinner. No man of the League would dare speak in the night preceding a battle. The various principalities that dotted the land were all unique in their own customs, but they all shared that much. The drink was strong with spice, so much so that he could feel particles of it scratch at his throat as it went down. It was powerful and uplifting, like the drink was made of fire, like it could fill him up with a fire's fury and he could raise fortresses with his own hands. Only guiltily afterwards did he realize he had taken the entire chalice in a single gulp, and was greedily eyeing another one. How unseemly of him, he thought to himself, pulling out a chair and joining the other heirlings as they gathered about the table, servants already melting away as they left behind them plates of resplendent, though disappointingly mundane-looking food. The other seven chatted eagerly amongst themselves, all they who were fluent in Astalian. Vyarin felt a frustration bordering on anger bubble up inside him. So long as he sat here, he was deaf in all the ways that matter. He imagined it to be not much different from wading into battle missing an arm. Perhaps he could pick up a word that appeared frequently enough. 'Wine, wine,' they said. That Astalian word appeared frequently, but he could not even begin to wonder what it could translate to. Was it marriage? That was their purpose coming here, after all. Perhaps they were speaking of arranging matches between themselves. Was it war? There are hushed mentions of a brewing war, greater than any skirmish between princes Vyarin would ever have seen, between this land and the great northern realm. He could not see any sign of worry on any other faces; they are mighty and stoic, these fellow heirlings, brave in the face of threat. What could this 'wine' possibly be?</s>
<\|description\|>Vyarin Kremazov appearance: Tall and incredibly built, Vyarin is the model of a warrior. Indeed, his form is the sort that would take up an entire doorway he would happen to pass through. In accordance with the religious reforms of half a century past, he keeps his blond hair shaved down to fuzz. His face is similarly shaved. However, most notable about him is the rag that obscures his left eye, wrapped around his head, that conceals the gaping remains of his eye. age: 19 bio: Vyarin was born to a most impressive pedigree. His father, the famed Zarrir "Usurper-of-Tyrants", had recently before Vyarin's birth led a successful rebellion against the so-called "Western Overlords" from across the Zpina mountain range. The Western Overlords' memory has been intentionally lost, with Zarrir having ordered all record of them destroyed and declaring that any who speak of them in his court have their tongues cut out. Thus, Vyarin's birth, coinciding rather neatly with the liberation, was considered highly auspicious by many. His name, "Vyarin", even means "of freedom" or "freeborn" in the now-dead Old Prozdy language. On his birth, Vyarin was given the courtesy titles of "Prince of Princes" (a title shared by his father), and "First Lord of the League". The League of which the second title represents is the nominally equal partnership of the great many rulers and nobles who had risen up alongside Prozdy against the Western Overlords, but in reality serve as effective vassals to Prozdy. Vyarin grew up among the militant court of his father. In the Prozdy culture, strength and stoicism were the highest virtues, and nobles who shied away from military pursuits were considered illegitimate to rule. Thus, Vyarin was given a rigorous education in fighting with a great variety of weapons, strategy and tactics, and a number of traditional sports. Thus, he grew up strong, accustomed to physical strain and resistant to the fear of death. At least, that was the visage he put on for the court to see. In truth, he found he tired often of the singleminded pursuit of conflict and victory that Prozdy society seemed to worship, and found he was rather curious regarding a great many subjects not taught to him. However, there wasn't much to be done about that. His father Zarrir was an iron-fisted ruler, grim and incredibly competent, and would likely stand for no deviation on his son's part. It was on Vyarin's coming-of-age day that his life changed rather oddly. During the celebrations, one of the princes of the League inadvertently insulted Vyarin before all the attendees. Zarrir, in a fit of rage, demanded that Vyarin and the prince duel with shashka to the death before the entire crowd. Neither were particularly interested in fighting this duel, and the prince offered to apologize, Zarrir's command was absolute, declaring that should either refuse this duel, they would be declared cowards and stripped of all honours. Eventually, after some heavy debate, a compromise was declared in which the two would fight only to first blood. The duel commenced, and ended when Vyarin fell forward, screaming and clutching at the left side of his face. Quickly, doctors were called, but the surgery was brutal, and perhaps did more damage to his eye than even the blade. Eventually, it was declared that Vyarin was blind in one eye. Zarrir, fearing for his son's life and his own court's stability, sent Vyarin away on the premise that he find a spouse. role in the story: Prince and suitor</s> <\|message\|>Gil Jalal \| \| \| \| ______________________________________ \| \| --- The next morning Gil was woken by Sioban. The Prince groaned and sat up not wanting to be awake just yet. "Wake up sleepy Prince, we got things we need to do today." The upbeat voice of the shaman rang out as Gil rolled his eyes and stood up to stretch the sleep from his limbs. This seemed to please the Shaman who left Gil to prepare for the day. He dressed himself in his most casual outfit. His clothes were nothing special. If one didn't know better he could easily be mistaken for a common member of society. Only those who knew of the significance of his braids, beads, and threads would be able to pick out that he was royalty. He doubted many of the Astalians would notice though. After getting dressed for the day he left his room and found both Sioban and Aldar waiting for him outside his room. "The King has ordered that we remain within the castle grounds without an Astalian guard's company. Something has changed and he clearly wishes to keep it out of the ears of the public for now. I will accompany you for the day." Aldar said bluntly as Gil walked past the two and headed toward the dining hall. It seemed his entourage had other plans as Sioban pulled Gil toward the direction of one of the gardens. "Before you partake in a morning meal, Aldar thinks it is a good idea we take the time to grant you blessings for today. It will only take a moment." Sioban explained as he led the Prince into the garden and toward the small creek that babbled through the back of it. There Gil kneeled beside the water and Sioban began speaking in orcish, requesting that the gods of nature as well as the ancestors look after Gil in his activities for the day. The ceremony was brief but it was long enough that Gil arrived to the dining hall after the eldest Princess had already made her exit and the others seemed close to finishing as well. He gave them all a polite nod and a morning greeting in Orcish as he took a place at the table and took in the options he had to eat. Aldar took a post on the wall behind the Prince but it seemed the Shaman had wandered off to do whatever it was Sioban had found to entertain himself with which didn't surprise the Prince one bit, the Shaman had always been one to do his own thing. "Big day today yea? The Ball and all?" He questioned just to see if he could start some idol chatter while he casually piled his plate high with all the food that could fit. He wouldn't be offended if nobody answered him after all they seemed to be in their own conversations already.</s> <\|message\|>Vyarin Kremazov While the others sitting at the table were occupied in their own conversations, Vyarin began shoving dry little lumps of bread into his pockets. It was a bad habit that he had never quite outgrown; his younger self did at times get into trouble for it. There was nothing that stirred the blood in his hands quite like the backs of them being rapped fiercely by a thin strand of willow, its fibres pulled taut. However, that never seemed to stop him; just make him a better sneak. Besides, one gets used to the sensation. He never regretted not having the occasional nibble of something when he had time to himself, usually sometime between the noon and evening meals. The Astalian bread was so light and airy, it hardly felt like biting into any substance at all. Best to take a few more rolls, just in case. However, his dastardly heist was cut short by the sudden arrival of one of the absent princes, the well-built figure of greenish hue. Vyarin had no way of telling whether the sudden interloper had seen him, and was simply pretending not to say anything to avoid a scene. He dropped the lump in his hand, it landing with a soft pat on the tablecloth. The other prince ambled to the table and joined the diners there, making sudden conversation. Yes, the ball. Just one more battle in this grand campaign. Vyarin nodded along, slowly getting to his feet and hoping his pockets didn't protrude too much that the others thought something off. "Excusing, please," Vyarin said, quiet as he could while still feeling like he could be heard. "I am worrying; I come to here with men. They are of me; I not see all of the night. I go to look; they are not to go away." In his mind, he irked at the half-lie. It was true, he was worried about how his loyal men were faring, but there was far more than that. He made a mental checklist of the tasks ahead. He had to destroy the letter from his father, before any of the local eyes and ears made note of it. He had to find a way to dress up in Astalian manner, to appear at the coming gathering. Most importantly, he had to talk with Annalise the eldest, at least to make his name known in person. He left the dining hall, making proper obeisance to their host the king, but not quite knowing if he appreciated the gesture. There was much to be done indeed.</s> <\|message\|>Jinayah Altera Jinayah smiled warmly at Prince Erick's acceptance of her offer to ride. "Excellent. I'll be ready in about two hours. I will meet you at the stables. Just ask one of the servants to point you the way." When Prince Gil spoke, she turned her head. Her mood dipped just a touch. "Yes, it is a big day. I, for one, hope that you're ready to dance your shoes thin." There was an excitement in her voice that was entirely false. The lie was given away in her eyes. She didn't mind socializing with the Princes in private. They were just boys, after all, and she'd spent her childhood dealing with them while she trained. No, it was the other nobles that would be in attendance. She could very well do without the conniving, backstabbing, constantly calculating courtiers. As Prince Vyarin made his excuses and exited, she too, stood. "Well, I'd best get ready. You enjoy your breakfast. Prince Erick, I will see you soon." - One and a half hours later, she was at the stables. She had switched out the armor for an embroidered tunic and pants, with high riding boots. While she brushed her favorite riding horse, a rose gray mare with an elegantly braided mane and tail, she hummed lightly under her breath. Blossom always liked the humming. Hopefully no one was looking, as she practiced her dancing footwork to her own music.</s> <\|message\|>Gil Jalal --- --- Annalise took the long way to the library, more or less deep in her own thoughts as she walked. There was so much at stake here, her country's future as well as the futures of the countries the Princes hail from. Would uniting really make them all stronger or would it simply make it easier to take out the remaining heads of the larger countries. The Empire had no problem lying in wait. This much she knew from accounts of how the other countries were taken over. Especially in the beginning. She quickened her pace, she needed to find a book, one that accounted the start of the war. Would there even be one? She had scoured the library many times for Gilthan history but all had been lost. After a bit of walking she finally entered the large room that was the castle's main library. There were smaller libraries scattered about but those only contained copies of the books held in this room. Any book the royal family owned would be found in this room. Books were not allowed to leave this library, so the collection should be complete, so long as nobody had snuck one out. Some of the castle's staff approached the Princess as she entered but they were quickly waved off with a polite smile. She didn't want or need the help. Immediately she got to work scouring the shelves, pulling anything down that she thought would have any sort of relevant information. It took her a bit but eventually she had quite a few books piled up on one of the many tables that were scattered around the front of the room. Annalise got to work skimming the books, moving everything she realized was not helpful to the side. The discarded books were taken and put back by the staff that occupied the room. Books were watched closely here, even when in the hands of one of the Royal family. The rule was not to be broken, by anyone. This was the one place the mages had more authority than she did, and she was always careful to respect that. She would spend the next while skimming books and placing them to the side when she didn't find what she wanted. She figured this task would take her a while, keep her busy until she was either interrupted, or the time to prepare for the ball began.</s>	<\|message\|>Vyarin Kremazov First on the checklist; the letter from his father. Ducking out of the breakfast hall, Vyarin was greeted with the familiar disorientation imposed upon him by the majestic palace of Astalia. Rooms upon rooms, hallways upon hallways, as to what led where he could only guess. Absentmindedly, Vyarin fished a bite of bread from his pockets and took a bite. He hoped this wouldn't be a long morning. The first challenge, he realized, was where exactly he would find a suitable fire. He had no place in a kitchen; that was the domain of skinners and stewards. No doubt he would get chased out like a boy before he could place his vellum message anywhere near where they made their meals. No, that would not do at all. For a guest to intrude upon their host in such a manner, for that is what they were, even the lowly Krebos, is beyond undignified. His luck finally turned, however, when he stumbled into a common room, with a growing fire as tended to by a muttering servant. When he approached, she took one glance up at him before scurrying away, muttering apologies in Astalian. Vyarin felt a little demoralized that the mere sight of him, or the breadth between their status, had banished her away like an evil spirit against a fetish, but for his purposes it served him well. He fished out the parchment, now covered in crumbs, and tossed it gingerly in the fire. The corners blackened, then curled, crumbling back into insignificant dust. There, his little conspiracy might escape his fool mind or his fool mouth, but never via his father's hand. It then occurred to him that he heard a noise, the shuffling of documents and the dragging of wood against wood. Was someone planning a campaign? His mind immediately leapt to paranoia, but his reason won out quickly. Nobody knew of the coming armies of Logon. Nonetheless, doubt crept back into his mind and bit down. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to check, just to make absolutely sure. Carefulness, after all, is the highest of duties, among others. The neighbouring room was much different from its adjacent; it was covered in racks, but rather than holding weapons or shaman's herbs, it was dedicated entirely to scrolls and arranged stacks of parchment so thick it resembled blocks. Immediately a stern aide wearing the colours of Astalia approached him and began either instructing or insulting him, he could not say for certain. When the aide gestured to the scrolls with purpose, he glared up at Vyarin, almost totally unafraid of the difference in their statures. Vyarin admired that; in another life, in another world, this diminutive scrawny man could have been a mighty berserker. Vyarin's luck was truly with him today, for the source of the noise was none other than Annalise, daughter of Harold. She read quickly, arranging the pages before her with the vigour that came with worry. He almost didn't want to interrupt her.</s>
<\|description\|>Jinayah Altera Age: 17 Bio: As the youngest of four, Jinayah has enjoyed some degree of freedom. She is a strange sort of princess, well-known for demanding boys' clothes since she was old enough to express it. While she will wear gowns on formal occasions, most of the time she can be found in specially tailored tunics and pants, down at target practice, or training in the yard with the knights. She is a bit on the spoiled side, which may be part of the reason she is allowed her freedoms and odd habits. Other: Jin looks very much like her mother, especially in the eyes. This has made her father avoid speaking to her lately, which hurts.</s> <\|message\|>Vyarin Kremazov There was a lot to consider for Vyarin, as he is led along another great hallway by his retinue. His eyes narrowed unjustifiably at the paintings arranged along the wall. Those women, the daughters, had made something of an impression on him. He thought back to earlier in the day, how two of them had approached the assembly of princes. Each was flanked by a man, a loyal guard most likely. They were as the new moon and the full, the two of them. Was it a ploy of some sort? He had seen such a plot before, observing as his father and his uncle would question defectors. Yet all that was years ago, and Vyarin's memory of that now has faded near enough that he cannot recall for the life of him any particulars. He scratched his chin, where the scruff was just beginning to return. Focus, now, was key; it was of paramount importance that he take note of all that occurs within these walls. The first had introduced herself as Sulhana, before the entire hall. She then approached Vyarin first, her loyal man in tow, and spoke to him, venom in her throat. As she stepped forward, he and his men stepped back. Vyarin looked into her eyes but for a split second, and looked away. Her gaze could only be surpassed in its strength by his own father. He had spent enough time with his father to know; the older man was never shy to display his anger, and very quickly do all who counsel him learn to recognize when they are being spat at. So too was the case with this Sulhana, who although of shorter stature and more slender form, spoke down to Vyarin in the nature of a host to their unwanted guest. Her guard translated, his mastery of the Prozdy speech impeccable, but overly literal, and the language of Astalia did not map perfectly to that of Prozdy, it must be admitted. Vyarin found the man curious, in a way. Did his ancestry stem from the League? Had he served under a prince within? As Sulhana finished, Vyarin gave a nod to her, and another to her translator, and they moved on to the next prince. The second daughter was the true surprise. Rather than making use of a translator, she spoke to him directly, calling him by the traditional manner and offering to him a gift. The jewel was magnificent, larger than his own thumb by at least twice, cut with obvious masterwork. Vyarin reached out with his hands and took the box. "I receive this . . . err . . . in your honour," he had said. Poetics did not come naturally to him. Yet, she had made the effort to speak to him as the nomad-chiefs did, so he felt he ought respond in kind. He didn't dare try the same in Astalian; that sounded a path towards disaster. The crowd, with time, began to depart. Vyarin took one last look at the other princes, then at his own retinue. The loyal men returned his look with their own, some of them quizzical, most of them tired. After a brief silence, one of them approached, and whispered. "Your orders, superior?" "Go into the town and collect the rest. We were promised food and shelter, let them feed and shelter us. If any of them managed to get themselves into trouble . . ." Vyarin thumbed the little jewel in his hand. ". . . Pay off their grievances. We have excess coins; not steel." As for him, well . . . the Court of Flowers awaits.</s> <\|message\|>Gil Jalal --- --- Annalise stood when the Princes entered the hall and greeted them with her father. She would be lying if she said that each one didn't peak her interest. Each and everyone of them was so incredibly different. She had known this would be the case however actually getting to see it was something else. She greeted each with a smile and a bow of her head, but said nothing. As soon as her father began speaking she took her seat, observing the individuals as he spoke. Trying to read each Prince's reaction to the situation. Both Sulhana and Loreena addressed the Princes directly. However Annalise had decided to observe before taking action. She knew all too well that as the eldest at least a few of them, if not all, would attempt to claim her as there's. She has no intention of taking the situation lightly. Whoever she married would inherit both their own kingdom, as well as hers when both of their parents could no longer rule. The eldest daughter had gracefully slipped out of the main hall when Loreena was giving them their gifts. In the hopes that they were distracted by her sister. The suitors who had joined them seemed to simply be adjusting to what was happening. They weren't showing their hands yet, and she wanted some time to think before she joined Sulhana in the Court of Flowers. After all she had a whole country to think about. Annalise soon found herself in the castle's Library. She would often come here to distract herself. Reading some of the old tales that were here helped calm her down. Though today her thoughts were too strong. No amount of books could distract her from her thoughts today. There was too much riding on the decisions to come. The man she married would lay claim to not only his own thrown, in the case of all the men besides Gil, but also Astalia's thrown. As she looked at the many books on the shelves her thoughts wandered to the Princes who had arrived. Logically, if she wanted to ensure that Astalia remained a military power within the continent her choices for suitors were the Prodzy Prince and the Jorda Prince. Both had strong military forces. However there was an unknown with the Elven Prince Alvaro, and the Orcish Prince Gil. Of the two however Prince Gil held no claim to his people's throne. From what Sulhana had managed to get the young prince had little to no desire to rule. As the third son he had the most freedom among his siblings and seemed content to maintain that status. The likely-hood that he would have any interest in herself was slim to none. Then again, a man who had no interest in ruling would be far more likely to let her take the responsibility of doing so. Annalise decided that clearly she was not going to get any peace of mind from reading and headed, finally, toward the Court of Flowers. A handmaiden scurried back into the castle from the courtyard and stopped only briefly to curtsy in her direction, then continued on her path. She was about to enter the courtyard when the sound of music reached her ears. She paused outside the door and listened. A tear fell down her cheek as she listened to her sister's song. They were all so young when they lost their mother, and their father hadn't been the same since. Annalise only had vague memories of her mother, her siblings were likely the same. Jin had barely entered the world when she had passed. How ironic that the daughter that looked the most like her mother entered the world shortly before their mother left. It took her a moment, but she composed herself and walked into the Court of Flowers. The veil that covered her slightly discolored right eye was still secured to her hair, she had honestly meant to remove it but had forgotten it was there since she couldn't see it. Her pale blue eyes hid the difference well from a distance, but up close it was obvious that one eye was much closer to a silver color, and this eye never focused on anything. The obvious sign that she had no sight in her right eye. She worried this would make her less appealing to the suitors and ruin the whole plan but now was not the time. Her functional eye landed on her sister, as she walked to her. "Why must my younger siblings show me up so extravagantly?" She teased embracing Sulhana in a short hug, releasing after only a few seconds. "Do you think any of the men will come?" She questioned though it wasn't something she was expecting much of an answer to, she was more asking herself out loud. She wasn't even sure her other two sisters would join them. Jin especially, this was not her type of thing. She hoped that everyone would turn up. A chance to converse without the prying eyes of their father and the nosey members of the court would be fantastic. They would all get a sense for each other before they had to appear in public, at a ball no less. \| \| \| \| ______________________________________ \| \| --- After it seemed the ruling family was finished addressing them and they were officially allowed to wander the grounds Gil left the Hall without a word to any of the others there. Aldar and Sioban followed behind him as he left, though he quickly dismissed both men to do as they pleased. Aldar excused himself to go make sure the group's sleeping arrangements were prepared but Sioban continued to follow the Prince around. Sioban was young for as skilled of a Shaman as he was. Though he looked to be the same age as Gil, Sioban was in his early thirties. He was by no means a master at his craft but he was far more skilled than others at his age. Though there was a decent age gap between the two, Gil and Sioban were pretty good friends so the Prince had no qualms with the Shaman following him around. "Do you plan to attend that gathering the Princess was speaking about?" The Shaman's amber eyes landed on the Prince, he seemed he had more to say but kept it to himself. Gil took a moment to think. He was told he could decline but it seemed rude to do so. Not to mention what he would say about his character if he refused to interact with any of the Princesses outside of official functions. Though he didn't particularly care for marrying any of them, it was for the benefit of his country and his people. "It would be rude to not attend. Plus the opportunity to get to know them before all eyes are on us would be ideal. So yes, I do intend to attend." He glanced over to the man beside him who smiled lightly. "Which means you will have to go bother Aldar for a while. I don't need a babysitter." Gil's blue eyes squinted at the half orc beside him, who was chuckling to himself. "I had no intention of following you to the Court of Flowers. I was going to take the time to prod at the minds of the court mages here, I have never met a mage so I figured it would be fun to compare notes." Gil gave the Shaman a skeptical look. "Relax Gil when I say prod I mean talk not invade their personal thoughts. You know that takes a while to prepare anyway. Plus I am sure Mages would know how to defend against something like that. Anyway, I am leaving you now. Don't embarrass us in front of the ladies. Good luck." Sioban slapped the young Prince on the back before turning on a heel and walking back down the hall he had come from, leaving Gil to his thoughts as he wondered. It was a short walk from the time Sioban left him to when he made it to the Court of Flowers, after asking a servant for directions. He stopped beside the door, staring at it for a moment. He mentally prepared himself to use the Astalian native language, rather than Orcish. The advantage of having a collection of citizens from every country is there was always a tutor in the languages he needed, so he and his brothers were all and least conversationally fluent in most of the languages spoken on Sahas. When the invitation was sent out Gil's practices went directly to Astalian and the languages spoken by the remaining countries free from the Empire. With a sigh Gil straightened and entered the Court of Flowers. A quick glance said he was the one of the first here, not even all the Princesses had made it. He should have had Sioban add the ribbon to this hair before coming here, maybe then he would have been the last. It was too late now, so in a heavily accented voice Gil greeted those there already. "Greetings." He bowed his head a little in respect and then his blue eyes watched the reactions of the others.</s>	<\|message\|>Jinayah Altera Jinayah stood politely in the great hall, waiting for the ceremony to be over. It may have looked like she was bored on the outside, but inside, she was having quite the panic. She had yet to speak a word to the foreign princes. Gifts! Why hadn't she thought of that? Then again, it's not like she was one to win over people with fancy presents. Her preferred method of making friends was finding common ground and matching over that. So what if said common ground had been arguments over the best swordsmith and one actual duel over the reputation of the best bowyer in the business? What was she going to do? For the first time in her life, Jin felt afraid of who she was. Forget falling in love; that fairy-tale nonsense was bound to be impossible. What if none of these men would simply put up with her? What if her natural inclination just scared them off? Then her father would be down one crucial alliance, and there could be an easy weakness against the growing threat of the empire! She had more or less accepted her fate as one of her father's "pieces on the board". But now she was rethinking things. What if everything was ruined? Because of her? AGAIN? The ceremony ended at some point and people began to drift away. She also left in a distracted manner, her feet moving on their own, and her head adrift in thought. It was no hidden secret in her heart that she felt responsible for her mother's death. Her siblings had treated her a bit differently in their early years. Sulhana's cutting remarks had lasted the longest. Unfortunately, some of them had been memorized in the corner of her mind, and burned like a fresh cut. Her father, gods bless him, had done his best to connect with her. But to look at your child and to only see the face of the one you loved, gone because of that same child… It was no wonder they never spoke anymore. She understood it plain – her birth and Mother's death had put them on this path. Maybe if Mother had been alive, there would have been a different solution to alliances. The four of them wouldn't be in this situation. Maybe if she had never been born at all – Jin took in a sharp breath, feeling her eyes swim. Suddenly, she just felt so out of place. Her chest seemed to buckle in on itself. The candles in the hall seemed to swirl around her, the very stone closing in. She struggled to breathe. Outside, she had to get outside. Luckily, she was nothing if not fast, and her strong legs carried her to the nearest exit past the Court of Flowers. It seemed she was right back where she had started, in the training yard. In her ballgown and regalia, she probably looked absolutely ridiculous. She strode to the shed where the training blades were kept, feeling her chest start to loosen the moment she laid hands on the sword set aside for her. Familiar steps drew her into the sword dance, and she quickly lost herself in the motions. She would go the party, and soon, but first she had to calm down, her own way.</s>
<\|description\|>Jinayah Altera Age: 17 Bio: As the youngest of four, Jinayah has enjoyed some degree of freedom. She is a strange sort of princess, well-known for demanding boys' clothes since she was old enough to express it. While she will wear gowns on formal occasions, most of the time she can be found in specially tailored tunics and pants, down at target practice, or training in the yard with the knights. She is a bit on the spoiled side, which may be part of the reason she is allowed her freedoms and odd habits. Other: Jin looks very much like her mother, especially in the eyes. This has made her father avoid speaking to her lately, which hurts.</s> <\|message\|>Loreena Altera Loreena and Uriah made it to the Court in time to see Sulhana greet the two princes. Erick looked stiff as a stone pillar and Gil seemed trying to help make him relax. She was about to step forward and greet them when she saw Sulhana perform her prestidigitation. Something about the sight made Lore's heart clench. What her younger sister could do was visually far more impressive than what Lore could currently control, and to see such a display, an uncertain wave of envy washed over her. It was why she never practiced in front of anyone except Uriah and the other mages. She found herself taking a step back, only to fetch up against the unyielding form of Uriah. He did not allow her to back down, having seen the display as well. "Go, child. You are here to get to know your new brothers and see if one is a suitable match for your future life. Not to show them tricks or make a display of yourself." He nudged her forward, making her press onward, and shadowed her along the perimeter of the court along with the other staff. Lore was offered a glass of wine, which she accepted, seeing Sulhana and Gil engaged in a drinking contest. Glancing at Erick, the corner of her mouth turned up when she saw the glint of yellow on his wrist. Her gift to him! He had incorporated it into his outfit! Gravitating towards him, she gave him another customary yet more informal Jördanian greeting. "You...wear my gift, Erick. I am glad it pleases you enough." Reaching up, she touched his hand gently where he gripped the goblet Sulhana offered him earlier hard enough that his knuckles were edged in white, hoping the gesture would encourage him to relax his grip a little. "You feel as awkward about this as we do." She glanced down to her own hand holding her chalice, seeing the way the liquid rippled in the cup as her hand quivered a little. "It is difficult to get past the feeling we are all actors performing on a stage trying to find our cue and impress each other." Her nose crinkled a little in a playful smile. "You have nothing to prove to anyone here, Erick."</s> <\|message\|>Erick Gil deployed a hefty grip upon Erick's shoulder and he rattled him somewhat, likely with unintended force given the size of him, as the half-orc spoke in Orcish, Erick only partially understood the statement with knowing a couple of words 'brother' and a concept of quietness or peace depending on context; regardless, Gil's cheerful disposition made it clear of his intent on reassuring him. The Jörda prince expressed a grin and nodded fondly, responding to Gil with a firm slap on his other arm to acknowledge the sentiment. Gil then turned his attention to the princesses, he accepted the challenge and took a seat - he already seemed at ease. Erick wasn't sure from which place within him his tension seemed to arise, though this was a different kind of battlefield he supposed.. there was no thundering cavalry, no clash of metal, no crunching of bones or the slip of a blade through flesh, and yet, somehow, Jörda's fate still rested upon him. The silence, the peace, the tranquility which, recently, had been foreign to him, was what unnerved him, even before he'd have to begin to woo a bride and with this too, he was also fairly out of touch. If it was any consolation, Astalia's daughters seemed to be as free-women were; spirited and independent, and the third daughter in particular appeared to enjoy entertaining if not toying with the suitors, whilst Annalise, although seemingly quieter than her younger sibling, observed with a sense of confidence before she had spoken to the princes trying to put them at ease; Erick had met her eyes, smiled and blinked in appreciation of her efforts - he would take her up on this invitation. Sulhana acknowledged the Afdan prince when he passed her to be seated, she turned her attention to Erick and her playfulness seemed to temper, as though she understood he perhaps needed her compassion, he glanced as she placed her hand on his shoulder before he reconnected with her gaze, he thumbed the rings on his right hand but did not move otherwise. He scanned her eyes as she spoke, and followed them too as she examined him, but as she took a pace back, quite unexpectedly she produced the glass - Erick felt both impressed yet foolish for the trick to deceive him which he could not contain - he bit his lower lip and smirked, "very good" he acknowledged, as Sulhana passed him the wine he raised it to her for a moment in a gesture of praise. He drank deeply from the glass and observed her as she made her way to the prince Gil to continue her mischief, Erick's hazel eyes slipped from her to Annalise, he approached her and leaned in, looking at her from under his brow he glanced to Sulhana, "do you also drink like your sister?" he remarked, amused, although there was not a tone of disapproval in his voice, he seemed to be resisting yet again another smirk from unfolding across his lips for he did not wish to offend, this concern disappeared as the princess Loreena seemed to apparate to his side - he'd not seen her skim the fringes of the courtyard between the dancing light of the torches before Uriah encouraged her to emerge. She greeted him convincingly in his own language, so well-practiced his mind faltered for a moment he was about to respond in kind before he tumbled back into Astalian, as a result his first few words were something of an amalgamation, he seemed to pause to glance away with some embarrassment; Erick cleared his throat briefly and began again, "we do not have these such items" he gathered together the reply but Loreena's openness, her touch caught him off-guard. The princess's words were incredibly exposing, she'd said aloud what the others had also easily perceived as much as he'd tried to mask it, perhaps yet still he could pass it off as some quiet reservedness? Regardless, she'd admitted they too didn't seem comfortable with the necessary arrangements, but yet they found it within themselves to extend warmth to the foreign suitors in their home, Loreena smiled and he returned one of some kind of gentle sympathy. You have nothing to prove to anyone here, Erick. His expression broke into the smirk he'd fought earlier to contain, "oh.. don't I?" he stifled a laugh as he looked at both the princesses Loreena and Annalise in turn before passing his gaze once again in the direction of Sulhana, whom seemed eager to bait them to her challenges..</s> <\|message\|>Gil Jalal --- --- "On the contrary, dear sister. He must prove he can hold his liquor." Annalise remarked to Lore as her sister entered the courtyard. There was a gentle smile on her face as Annalise removed the annoying half veil from her hair. Finally the slight discoloration of her right eye was no longer hidden. She silently hoped the setting sun would hide this from the suitors just a little longer, but it was a nice test. Their reaction to the realization that she did not have vision in her eye would tell her a lot about them. Finally she fully acknowledged the man who she had realized had moved closer to her asking if she drank like her sister. "I do indeed drink, though I would say Sulhana can, and does, outdrink me on the regular. But don't let that discourage you. What do you say Prince Erick, Lore, care to insert ourselves into Sulhana and Prince Gil's competition? Or Maybe we have our own competition." She raised her eyebrow and then turned to Uriah who she had seen shuffle to the side with the rest of the staff. "You wouldn't mind if Lore missed out on a day of training due to a hangover would you? Also not telling our father would be much appreciated." She smiled softly at the man who, had she had any magical talent, would have been her teacher. She had no doubt that the man would at least not tell their father about anything that happened here tonight. At least not anything as harmless as a drinking contest. \| \| \| \| ______________________________________ \| \| --- Gil couldn't help the stupid smile on his face when Sulhana asked if it was too late for him to pull his punches. "I do believe it was you who extended this challenge so I have no intention of going easy on you. Treat you as an equal I shall." He watched the princess move toward him with two glasses, one he assumed was for him and one for herself. He did his best not to run his eyes across her body. She was beautiful for sure, but he was still trying to be respectful. That was until she proposed a wager. His eyebrow raised as he listened to her speak. She knew what she was doing. He reached for the glass but it was quickly moved away from him and the contents consumed by the woman in front of him. "You have yourself a deal Princess." He wasn't going to tell her he would answer any questions she had about his culture without the wager. It was more fun this way. He wasn't sure her true game, and if he were honest, he didn't care. He had spent weeks traveling with nobody but Sioban and Aldar, only one of which was any sort of fun. "If I win you have to tell me what you really feel about all of…this." He motioned to the group that was already there, sure she would understand his meaning. She seemed to be an intelligent individual. He watched the woman as she turned and motioned him to follow, inviting him for a walk. He let out a little chuckle as he quickly poured himself not one but two drinks and quickly downed them. "Now we are even." He said as he stood to his full height and followed behind her. It was silent for a moment until she remarked about what she could give to fly. "I have only flown once. Though it was a cruel joke pulled on me by Sioban, the Shaman that traveled with me." He looked up at the stars with a small glimmer in his blue eyes. "At first there was fear, as my body left the sturdy familiarity of the ground. Then, even though I didn't get very high up before my brothers and Aldar made him put me down, pure joy. I was a small child when this happened, but I remember it like it was yesterday." He sighed, a weight now sitting on his shoulders, realizing that he would never feel that freedom again. Not after marrying one of the Princesses. He would have a duty, at the very least to his family, old and new. He hadn't realized the smile he wore had faded slightly at this realization. After a moment he shook his head a little, attention going back to the green eyed woman he now stood beside. Gil nervously scratched the back of his neck. Which pulled his collar down just enough to reveal the top of the black markings that covered part of his upper body. Tattoos he had recently gotten to decorate his body. "We seem to be missing your youngest sister, the Elven Prince and the Prozdy Prince, yes? I hope they didn't get lost. I know I almost did while I was exploring." He leaned on the stone railing, effectively bringing his eyes to her level. He didn't want to look down at her, nor did he feel right to make her look up to him. Putting them on the same level seemed the most respectful thing he could do. And seeing as the only way to do that was to either pick her up, or he slump, he opted to slump.</s>	<\|message\|>Jinayah Altera "The sword?" Jin searched her mind for a suitable word in Prodzy, but she was coming up empty. Did the word not exist, or had she just forgotten? "Longsword." She finally said in Astalian. Switching back to Prodzy, she approached Vyarin carefully. After all, he did have a blade in his hand that he didn't know how to use. Sir Arnold had always beat it into their heads that an untrained novice was sometimes more dangerous than a trained professional. You had no idea what they could do. "Please to excuse." She gently gripped his hands and adjusted them on the hilt. "Better now." As far as she had read, Prodzy had plenty of weapons. So why was this one so curious to him? She would have to get with her sisters and ask them to translate better. Speaking of sisters – "Ah, wait! The Court of Flowers is waiting on us!" She looked down at herself. There was a bit of a mess on the very edges of her gown, but there was no time to change into another. Sighing softly and trying to rearrange her hair, she nodded to Vyarin. Briefly in Prodzy, she explained. "Come, follow!" Then she headed back inside, making sure Vyarin was somewhat behind her. With her short legs and his long ones, he could easily catch up. She led the way to the Court of Flowers, and paused once more before entering the area proper. There were going to be looks, she knew. But if they were to be her new brothers, and one a husband, they'd find out eventually. Best to discuss her proclivities on her own terms. Striding in with squared shoulders, Jin smiled warmly at all present. "Sorry I'm late. But I found one lost prince!" Seeing wine glasses already tabled (and some empty), she picked one up and took a sip. It was stronger than any they'd let her have before. Only a few years ago, they had been watering down her wine with meals. Was she suddenly such an adult now? Seeing Sulhana with that mischievous cat look on her face, and Annalise nearby, she went to Loreena instead. "Hi Lore. Having fun yet?" She curtsied briefly to Uriah as well. He wasn't royal, but his status garnered a lot of respect in her eyes. "I got… a little sidetracked. Do you think it'll be too noticeable?"</s>
<\|description\|>Jinayah Altera Age: 17 Bio: As the youngest of four, Jinayah has enjoyed some degree of freedom. She is a strange sort of princess, well-known for demanding boys' clothes since she was old enough to express it. While she will wear gowns on formal occasions, most of the time she can be found in specially tailored tunics and pants, down at target practice, or training in the yard with the knights. She is a bit on the spoiled side, which may be part of the reason she is allowed her freedoms and odd habits. Other: Jin looks very much like her mother, especially in the eyes. This has made her father avoid speaking to her lately, which hurts.</s> <\|message\|>Erick Erick's smirk widened when Annalise seemed to concur the sentiment, he glanced at Uriah with whom Loreena held a brief interaction - she was free to indulge the festivities this evening, it would seem. The prince scanned Loreena's jewelled adornments as she described the gems as an aid in harnessing her power, before he looked to that which was wrapped to his wrist, a personal gift indeed.. magic and the soul were one, to him at least, so it was quite right that it had no place other than on his person, "to bond it to me is my honour" he affirmed, giving a thoughtful smile. Erick flexed his brow and looked about as the last princess and the prince Vyarin arrived to the courtyard. Jinayah greeted them quite informally and made her way to Loreena who was in his company, as was Annalise, as she drew closer he could see she was a little disheveled with some smears of dust about her attire, which he found unusual given her status and the nature of the event, though he concealed his judgment on this observation. He gave a shallow but nonetheless gracious bow with her arrival "Princess Jinayah" he expressed warmly before glancing to the Prozdy prince too to acknowledge him before he arose. Vyarin also seemed quite out of place, if not moreso, which made Erick feel a little better - as he'd shifted to the table and appeared to reel back with the taste of the wine, he felt confident further still… perhaps the Prozdy people preferred the sap and fungi from the forests? It would certainly make things a little interesting.. Probably not appropriate. Whilst Loreena engaged the youngest sister upon her arrival, Erick looked back to Annalise - her veil had shifted and the pigmentation of the concealed eye was revealed, but he gave no indication that he had noticed and seemed to examine all features of her face as he spoke, "I think our own competition sounds like a good idea but…perhaps if not a little unfair" he drank deeply from the glass once again which emptied it - it seemed to be the mellow Astalian wine, and he was quite keen to partake of the robust Afdan beverage, "by what standards would you test me.. Annalise?" he made a gesture for her to walk with him to sit at the table, for he did remember why he was here. Sulhana simultaenously made her announcement, which beckoned all attendees to enjoy the abundance of food and drink presented for them. The princess Sulhana was indeed a gracious and experienced hostess, but Erick was sure there was a sense of detachment, perhaps sadness in the way in which she expressed things - he understood he supposed, their lives were likely to change and far more greatly than that of any of the suitors.. Did she even have a preference? ..he wondered.</s> <\|message\|>Alvaro "Now is not the time for mistakes. Now is the time for action. Do what you feel is best for your kingdom." --- --- As each assembled before the great King, Alvaro was silent. He was observing each of them, wondering what it was like to grow up in their shoes, wondering if there could be any happiness with the cold breath of the enemy on their necks. They all had something in common. They were all on the list of destruction should they choose not to act. Alvaro wondered if he could go through with the lie. To marry the great King's daughter and pretend as if his heart did not already belong to someone else. The greatest of all fallacies and he questioned his own morals. How could he lead a kingdom and act so treacherously? His conscience continued to gnaw at him. More than anything he wanted to make his father proud, but he also had his own life to live. The great King had graciously invited them all to take the hand of one of his daughters and yet, Alvaro gazed at each beautiful princess and wondered how soft their hair was and how quickly he could braid it. To him, friendships and bonds lasted longer, and although he would no doubt be unable to marry one of them, he would ensure that an alliance would be forged in the shackles of truth. The great King had offered a moment for anyone to speak, but his daughters presented themselves to each of the princes. Alvaro graciously accepted the beautiful gift from Loreena. Her bow made him smile. It was a sign of respect in his kingdom that equals bowed to each other, but also you bowed deeply to those of higher wisdom and age. His window of opportunity to speak with the great King soon passed, but he felt welcomed in the kingdom and would do his best not to upset any of the royal family while there. He turned to his lover and guard and smiled. "I will speak with the King alone," he spoke in his native tongue, "please behave while we are here. We are guests and should act as such." They'd been invited to the Court of Flowers. Perhaps he would get another chance to speak with the King alone, but for now he would retire to his chambers and freshen for the festivities that awaited later that evening. The Court of Flowers was sure to be as interesting as it sounded. Alvaro had observed each of the princesses and one had caught his line of sight. She was interesting and yet hadn't spoken at all during the ceremony. Alas they all seemed to disperse, even the princes and he was no exception. "Do you think your father will be upset?" Nairo asked. "My father will learn to understand and hopefully will accept you," Alvaro said, glancing up at Nairo as he sat on the bed. "The King can be forgiving," Cairo stated. "I know Cairo, but I must be careful how this is done. The great King could find it insulting, and the last thing we need is discontent between kingdoms. I will speak with the King alone, but be mindful while you are here, for we are not home. Use our native tongue to speak to each other, but no secrets. Understood?" Cairo and Nairo nodded while Alvaro continued to get dressed. He wore a beautiful phoenix embossed garment that flowed from his toned form. A beautiful necklace adorned his neck and chest, the gemstone holding mysteries within it. The solid violet gem seemed to swirl specks of white and gold in its center.. Alvaro's earrings accented the beautiful lavender garment he wore and he stood from the bed examining himself in the mirror. "You look amazing," Nairo said. "The most fashion forward in the kingdom," Cairo stated. Alvaro smiled and shook his head. He was the last to arrive in the great hall. The beautiful flowers made him think of home. He strolled in, and remained silent as he observed what was going on, not wanting to interrupt.</s>	<\|message\|>Jinayah Altera Jin relaxed considerably as Lore adjusted her hairstyle. Her sister's touch was very warm and soothing. It was so much nicer than when her ladies in waiting did it. They always made the bun too tight. "Much better, Lore. Thank you." She smiled widely and took a delicate sip of the wine. It was delicious, and quite powerful, and had a different scent entirely than what they usually had with dinner. Sulhana was always good at choosing that kind of thing. "A drinking contest, hm? I suppose I will join. Consider this my entry." While she had grown used to the nonalcoholic cider in the silver cups, today was apparently the day she became an adult. She took another careful sip of the wine and watched as Vyarin sputtered over his. What was that about? Was he going to be alright? Lore was already on it, so she turned her attention to Hana as she approached. "I wouldn't have run away. Not from this. I'm supposed to be the bravest of all of us, aren't I? So here I am." She chuckled as she was engulfed in a hug. There had always been a bit of the dramatic in Hana, spymaster or not. She had always been the one to make up stories as children. Her speaking of governesses and new-dress days with four less than earnest young ladies brought a sparkle to her eyes and a grin to her face. It had been simpler, yes. Much simpler. Jin actually lost composure and blushed when Sulhana mentioned the armor she had received. But she was surprised at her elder sister's advice. "You think I should have? Perhaps. Then the men would know what they're really working with, instead of… this." Sometimes the fancy gowns felt like lying. She approached Prince Gil, swept a curtsy and smiled. Before they could really get to talk, however, Hana announced that dinner was on the table. Despite her earlier nerves, the head-clearing workout from earlier had made her rather hungry now. It would be good to sit and eat.</s>
<\|description\|>Jinayah Altera Age: 17 Bio: As the youngest of four, Jinayah has enjoyed some degree of freedom. She is a strange sort of princess, well-known for demanding boys' clothes since she was old enough to express it. While she will wear gowns on formal occasions, most of the time she can be found in specially tailored tunics and pants, down at target practice, or training in the yard with the knights. She is a bit on the spoiled side, which may be part of the reason she is allowed her freedoms and odd habits. Other: Jin looks very much like her mother, especially in the eyes. This has made her father avoid speaking to her lately, which hurts.</s> <\|message\|>Vyarin Kremazov "I understand now," Vyarin said, nodding his head. This one had a wit about her, he thought, that she could tell what he needed to know even without him having to ask. Perhaps she was the eldest? Were it so, he would have to get into her good graces now. Continue to nod along now, and be agreeable. Although, now that he considered it, perhaps it said more of his habit than hers. Although he appeared to stroke his chin, it was more like he was touching his face. He was an open book, no doubt about it. She could read his thoughts like a malevolent forest witch from the bard's tales. Though perhaps if he took her to wife, she could teach him how it is done? How delightful it would be to tell one's thoughts from their visage alone! Yet, all was not well, he considered. It was the battle instinct that tugged at the back of his eye in a sharp report. This woman had no interest in his benefit. Yet, he wondered, once the alliance is formed, did that truly matter so much? So lost in thought was he that he barely caught the tail end of her question. She had a way of speaking, they all did here in Astalia. Bard's speech, it was known at home. It was well of them to accommodate for his language, true, but their perception of Prozdy was simply woefully out of date. He paused, searching his mind. Yes, the question. He remembered now. The truth was, he had grown strangely quickly to adapt. The ebb and flow of the pain was unpredictable, almost as the flow of a conversation. However, he was not about to reveal his suspicions to her. ". . . It is mostly gone," he answered, looking anywhere but in her eyes. "I feel as healthy as before I lost it." Over time, the revelry wound down. Many cups of rotted grape were eagerly devoured by the seven strangers, so much so that nobody particularly cared to decide between them a 'winner'. Vyarin suspected that was the point. They enjoy it so that any excuse may be made to imbibe. What a peculiar habit of these far-easterners, that what in one hand paralyzes the living mind of a warrior is on the other to their delight. Excuses were made in the late night, and Vyarin was eventually escorted under watchful eye of the castle guardsmen to a chamber set aside for him. His own men were nowhere to be seen, which worried him greatly. Should they not have objected to their prince of princes being escorted by any other than them? His mind instantly went to the worst possibilities. There had to be trouble afoot, he was certain of it. His men knew better than to quarrel; perhaps it was the fault of a local? He wondered this, as his shaman meekly entered his room bearing another missive from his father. He accepted it without a word, and she disappeared as she came. Vyarin set the letter aside; he could just as easily read it tomorrow. Today, there was work to be done. Serious work. From his satchel, he pulled his phrasebook of all the known realms of Sahas. He had thought he had studied it thoroughly when he had left home. Frustrated, he flipped through the book, sullenly repeating the lines again and again. "I know this!" he groaned, finding only familiar pages. "I know this for certain!" Tired, he set the book down, and stumbled into the bed, peeling back the old bandages and tossing them on the ground. He dare not think what lie beneath it, as he wrapped a fresh coat of linen about his head. At last, done with the day as far as he was concerned, he lay back and dreamed dreams in Astalian.</s> <\|message\|>Gil Jalal The Day of the Ball The night went smoothly for the eight nobles gathered in the court of flowers. They drank and talked and made marry into the early hours of the evening when, eventually it was advised that they all return to their quarters. The day ahead of them was to be an important one. Many of the members of the court would be joining them in the evening for the ball the king had planned. The eight nobles would be watched with varying opinions. The ball was not set until after sundown, so they had until then to prepare themselves or do anything else they wished to do, however none were permitted to leave the castle grounds without at least one Astalian guard escorting them, mostly to ensure that they do not get lost and also that they return to the castle in a timely manner to attend the ball. \| \| ______________________________________ \| \| --- King Harold spent the night of the gathering polishing up the last of the details for the ball. All seemed fine, however when he awoke a messenger was waiting to deliver a message that he had been worried was coming. A rolled parchment with the seal of the Gilthan Empire was placed in his hand almost as soon as he opened the door to his chambers. Harold blinked at the scroll for several seconds before looking at the individual who handed it to him. Before he could speak the man spoke. "The Court Wizards checked it for any sign of magic before I was permitted to bring it to you." The King nodded and waved the man off. It seemed the messenger was waiting for the queue as he turned on his heel and rushed back down the hallway. The old King broke the seal of the scroll carefully, as if a snake would jump out at him as soon as he was done breaking it, or if he broke it the wrong way, despite being sure his Mages were more than capable of detecting any magical traps. I greet you King Harold of Astalia It has come to my attention that Astalia, and the remaining "free" countries have decided it was time to join together in holy matrimony in an attempt to band together and defeat the growing Empire. The King with no Heir. The fallen Sun and the broken Moon. You think this move will save you from the might of The Sovereign, but you have only gathered all the heirs into one location. How will your countries hold if they lose the next rulers? How fast will the other countries turn on Astalia if their heirs perish under Astalian protection? Call off this foolish attempt to make a stand. You have been warned. The King handed the letter to the nearest guard. "Burn this. The Empire is trying to scare us. The attempt of a faceless ruler who knows what the remaining counties united will result in their downfall." The guard nodded and the letter was placed into the closest source of fire as Harold walked into the dinning hall where breakfast was prepared for the royal family as well as the visiting suitors at their convenience. He took his place at the end of the table before anyone entered and began eating in silence.</s> <\|message\|>Erick Whooshing. What was that whooshing? Faint crashing something beat against rock with a rumble not unlike thunder, it reverberated throughout the walls, and his bones. Erick's mind ever on the battlefield conjured images of what it could be, the rhythmic clash of weapons and armour surging as one? Was it catapults hurling balls of stone engulfed in raging fire to crumble bricks and mortar? But, where was he? Erick's thoughts were at once panicked - had he fallen asleep on night watch? His stomach dropped and he felt instantly intensely nauseous as he was ripped abruptly from his sleep. He awoke startled and panting heavily, the world around him spun fiercely; he wondered for a moment if he'd been knocked unconscious, but he soon recollected most of the details of the previous day. Erick began to catch his breath and he tried to swallow with an unbearably dry mouth. He felt awful. That damned Orcish wine.. so much for playing this cautiously.. He did remember as much as Vyarin leaving the gathering, his recollections became somewhat hazy after this event - he also remembered visiting Sinir at some point so, he must have still honoured his personal pledge to check on him later in the evening.. although Erick wondered if that rather looked like sometime earlier this morning.. What time was it anyway? Some of his company will have awoken him if he'd slept to an unreasonable hour, he was sure. A cheerful light seemed to be peering from between the exquisite fabrics guarding the window, although he had little desire to face it. Erick stirred his body with a groan, it felt heavy and he did not quite want to make it arise from the bed where he'd fallen asleep on top of the covers, dressed still in his finery.. to be fair, at least he'd retained enough sense in his inebriation to not simply slumber in the stable with Sinir - but he noted that his clothes were flecked with straw and he once again smelled of the horses which suggested he'd perhaps considered it. Eventually with great effort, the Jörda prince hauled himself from his prone position - the spinning was worse, but, he'd done this before. After calling an attendant to deliver him water, he made to refresh and prepare himself to meet with his advisors, which he hoped would not involve some kind of scolding for his.. miscalculated activities, he'd then likely make an attendance of some sort to breakfast; the thought of food making him feel simultaneously ravenous yet unwell.. this was going to be a tough morning.</s>	<\|message\|>Jinayah Altera Jin awoke in the morning with a mild groan. The morning sunlight was warming her skin, but it was also in her eyes. That light made her head start to throb, and she buried her head in her soft pillow for another moment more. "Ugh." Her mouth was dry and papery. While she had not participated in last night's drinking contest, she was unused to the regular wine. She'd been drinking from the silver cups all her life up until yesterday, so the real stuff was both a pain and a pleasure. After rising up and washing her face with the warm water the maids had provided, she did her usual stretches and pushups. It was important to keep the body limber. Sir Arnold was always fond of stating that 'danger could strike at any moment', to keep his knights on their toes. Jinayah always had this advice in the back of her head. Even though today was a different kind of battle, it would be good to keep it in mind. Once she was done exercising, she rang for a bath and clothing. The maids showed up promptly, with steaming, perfumed hot water, and a selection of gowns. Jin frowned, and sighed. Sulhana's words from yesterday were still ringing in her ears. "Ladies, please send my armor off to be buffed and shined. I will be wearing it this morning." A silence settled in the room. The eldest maid spoke up. She was in charge of all the others who assisted Jin in the mornings. "My lady, are you sure about that? You will be expected to dress for the occasion, and-" "Bianca." Jin interrupted with a word. "Yes, my lady?" Jin smiled warmly. "I will be wearing the armor. It's time to be me, instead of what other people think I should be." "But-" The smile dropped. Jin's eyes and voice went sharp, and she squared her shoulders. "I believe I issued an order, not a request." Her royal bearing shone through, and 'no' was no longer a possibility. "...y-yes, my lady! Right away!" The maids went back into action, and Jin relaxed again. She hated to pull rank like that, but sometimes it was necessary to get her point across. Hours later saw Jin bathed, brushed, and headed down the halls toward breakfast. The armor glittered in the morning sun, and fit like a dream. She stifled a yawn into her glove and wondered just what the reactions would be.</s>
<\|description\|>Jinayah Altera Age: 17 Bio: As the youngest of four, Jinayah has enjoyed some degree of freedom. She is a strange sort of princess, well-known for demanding boys' clothes since she was old enough to express it. While she will wear gowns on formal occasions, most of the time she can be found in specially tailored tunics and pants, down at target practice, or training in the yard with the knights. She is a bit on the spoiled side, which may be part of the reason she is allowed her freedoms and odd habits. Other: Jin looks very much like her mother, especially in the eyes. This has made her father avoid speaking to her lately, which hurts.</s> <\|message\|>Vyarin Kremazov Dawn broke, and Vyarin lay awake watching the square of sun descend upon his wall. His eye darted about, catching the corners of the chamber, and in his mind he took stock of the matters ahead of him. Yes, the letter from his father. He had just about forgotten, addled as he was by the early morning. Vyarin scrambled to his feet, and winced as he struck the bedside table with his foot. Would the noise have woken anyone? He can apologize to them later. Carefully, he cracked the seal and unfolded the message. It read as follows. "War threatens to return to the League," the message begins, without introduction or address. "Vyatka Prince of Vadai holds in his dungeon three spies resistant to torture. Suspicions say they come from Gilthan. Grazodon Prince of Perozord also reports raids coming from bandits of particular discipline and equipment. Your marriage has become more important than even before, as our retaliation would require an overwhelming force we do not possess. The heir to Astalia is Annalise of the clan Altera, distinct in her pale face and hair." By sun and moon, what a fool Vyarin had been! He nearly crushed the letter in his hand how frustrated with himself he was. She was the one princess he could not recall conversing with, not through the course of the entire night previous. He read on. "To ensure our will is made known, I have sent your uncle Tellos Prince of Logon in command of his entire retinue to follow in your travelling path. I trust him to arrange everything goes to our favour. He will arrive in three days." Oh no. This was bad. Vyarin threw the letter on the table and sat down on the bed to think. Though Prozdy held the power, there was no denying Logon's near-comparable might. The two worked closely in their youth, his father and his uncle, expanding the sphere of the clan Kremazov; violently and remorselessly until near half the principalities in the League had some tie of blood to that name. If Tellos was being sent to Astalia, it could only mean that his father meant to declare an ultimatum. Few paths forward now will not end in blood. Quickly, Vyarin had to destroy the message! He crumpled up the letter and stuffed it in a pocket. There must be one firepit in this palace somewhere. Truly, this has become a predicament, having to keep this secret from a host who has thus far been nothing but generous. Vyarin stood up, before awkwardly sitting back down and opening up his phrasebook to review his studies. He can't be making a mistake that could cost Prozdy with his tongue. Eventually, he made it out of the room and through the labyrinthine halls to arrive in the dining hall, where platters had been laid out for the morning. The princesses were present, as was their father, but he was the first of the suitors. He gave each of them a nod. "I-Is good day," he said, in thickly accented Astalian. "Is my pleasure . . . to join in this morning."</s> <\|message\|>Erick Erick's foolishly hopeful vision of slipping to breakfast without harassment was instantly shattered when he opened the door of his chamber - Grìmur, his council, was waiting for him with folded arms leaning back against the opposing wall of the corridor. "I am joyous the second son of Henrick lives" the robust man, certainly three times Erick's elder, whom was muscularly heavy-set and evidently battle-worn had an edge about the statement, perhaps which also reflected the prince's own notion that he was not the most preferable suitor. "It is regrettable that I am indeed alive and well" Erick responded in kind, flashing his eyebrows upwards - Grìmur knew how the prince felt about the arrangement which would render him little more than a figurehead to an alliance and certainly, the powers of Astalia would not see any of their daughters recklessly widowed, Erick knew he was to be pulled from the battlefield indefinitely and with that, any prospect to match his brother's prepotency. Grìmur huffed, shaking his head only a small fraction before he looked away, and back to the prince, "the first daughter seemed cordial with you I am led to believe, but you must not drink so much, a crown-prince who sleeps in next to his horse is embarrassing, Erick" he scolded with a low tone, the prince expressed a sharp outward breath but resisted rolling his eyes before he began making his way along the corridor, Grìmur proceeded to escort him, "son of Henrick, this is not optional for you, your behaviour must be in the interests of obtaining the best contract for Jörda", Erick's council continued to berate him, although, he was not wrong to do so - Erick really did get very drunk.. oh indeed if he ever came to learn of the dried sap he invariably did not travel without.. Erick dared not consider what his criticisms may be then.. The older man stopped Erick in his tracks for a few moments as he grasped his shoulder, persuading the young prince to turn to speak with him, Grìmur let out a deep sigh through his nose as he examined his face - Erick was already clearly rankled and wore a sullen expression. He'd be hung-over, too.. perhaps this was too much for the morning? "You make your sacrifice differently Erick" he began, seemingly softening he gripped at the arm of the young man and met his eyes, "but it too is for Jörda", Erick nodded lightly but looked away - he appreciated Grìmur's lie but it would never be the same, he knew. He turned to continue on his way to attend breakfast, and his council gave him a hefty pat of encouragement across the back of his shoulder, they then proceeded to make light-hearted albeit mundane conversation regarding their observations of Astalia's great city en route. Grìmur parted company with the prince shortly before he arrived at the hall, and the attending guards ushered Erick into the spacious room. There was a large table quite clearly suitable for hosting an extensive number of noble guests, however only one section was prepared and occupied by Astalia's royal family and the first suitor in attendance - the Prozdy prince, although curiously, there was one person wearing a glorious suit of armour, perhaps a specialised royal guard? As the Jörda prince drew closer to the table, he began to recognise the features of the youngest princess whom the previous night had been dusted with dirt. A shield-maiden, perhaps? Did she too lead her father's armies? He was both impressed and perplexed by the display. "Good morning" he finally exclaimed boldly, as he wasn't sure if he'd already lingered too long in silence distracted by the spectacle of Jinayah's armour. "Your Grace" he added with a bow of his head to King Harold before taking up a position at the table, at once remembering how particularly tender he felt - a light meal of fruit and dry bread ought to be safe. Erick sat opposite Vyarin's expansive figure, he met his eyes upon the man briefly to acknowledge him.</s>	<\|message\|>Jinayah Altera Jinayah was very pleased to meet Sulhana on the way to breakfast, before everyone else. Sulhana did not always tell the truth, but Jin would have known if the armor was a mistake by how smoothly she reacted to it. "Oh yes, Father is going to have a royal conniption. I'm ready for it. I'm very tired of hiding myself." She said with a prideful grin. They fell into step together, heading toward the dining hall. When Hana said she'd pluck the princes' eyes out for not finding her beautiful, she chuckled and shook her head. "It's not about the beauty, Hana. It's about the respect. Always has been." Then they entered, and she bowed to her father. "Good morning." She did her best to keep a smirk from her face as she locked eyes with the man. There was a battle of emotions behind his eyes, at least the ones she could read. Surprise as he took in the armor. Confusion as this was not her usual male clothing. A sudden flash of anger as he realized where it would have come from. She almost saw his mouth make to open, but by the end, it did not. Perhaps if they hadn't had guests, there would be an interrogation. Instead, there was a look of wan acceptance, and then distraction, as Jin finally settled at the table with a polite clanking of metal. Sulhana had given her pointers on how to read people's faces years ago. She said that those were the unspoken words, and that they often mattered more than what left the mouth. Jinayah had found this true. No one would outright say that she couldn't do these things. But their expressions certainly hinted at it. It was worst around the older nobles. Most of the time, new courtiers were confused. Shocked. Scandalized, even. Funnier, some of the younger nobles seemed amused, or even pleased. Especially the daughters. She was used to all of it, but she wondered just what level of reaction proper armor was going to get her. The princes were beginning to filter in now. She greeted Prince Vyarin with a little smile and nod. It seemed his Astalian had improved. Perhaps he'd studied even after the party? If so, good on him. Prince Erick was another story. She'd stopped him in his tracks – that, or the sun had. He did have quite a lot of wine last night. But she tilted her head in a very proud way as he too, sat. Now all they needed was Prince Alvaro, who she had yet to really meet besides the polite introduction.</s>
<\|description\|>Loreena Altera Age: 21 Bio: Loreena was the second child born to Harold and Tiana, a bit of a surprise so soon after the arrival of Annalise. She was a bit of the opposite of her elder sister, darker in hair and skin and also possessed a disdain for all things court related as she grew out of the nursery. She loved her books, often sneaking down into the library and reading long into the night. She devoured books like a starving man would a loaf of bread, and it was discovered that she possessed an eidetic memory, making her classes a breeze for her, though it seems like applying her knowledge to real life provided a challenge. Lore was also the first, and seemingly only, of her sister to show any skill in magic, swiftly coming under the tutelage of the royal mages. She is able to pick up a skill quickly, but mastering it takes time. Her most secret and ardent desire is to go on an adventure. To visit a far off land, to learn new magics from various teachers, and to write an adventure story of her own. For this reason, she is, perhaps, the most interested of her sisters in the plan their father laid out for them to marry one from a different kingdom. As long as he has books, or doesn't mind her building a library, and a sense of adventure, she will be content.</s> <\|message\|>Vyarin Kremazov From distantly behind him on the road, Vyarin can hear orders being shouted. The steady stomp of greaves in the dirt called out in waves, rising and falling. The column of grizzled Prozdy veterans, armoured and armed, had every simple merchant and traveler crossing them in the road scampering to the side of it to allow them passage. No doubt rumour followed the band of Prozdy men as they wandered from inn to inn, through village to village, bearing their combined arms with them. Could they be invaders, the vanguard of a much larger force come to pillage and raid? It was not for them to know, inevitably. These men are Vyarin's; men bound to defend him as if brothers. They were a prince's retinue, with which no true prince of the League would travel without. They who do tend to find themselves on the unfortunate end of an ambush brought on by a usurper. None of them could have predicted just how torturously hot the southern climate was. Did it ever snow down here, where great fields of grass grew, lush and deep green, where the trees stretched up straight into the sky, their leaves wide and flat as fans? Did this land know any hardship? Once the bearer of welcome warmth to chase away long nights, the sun had betrayed Vyarin's host in the night and now beat down on their weary bodies. One league turned into two under the blinding sun, and soon, one step turned into leagues. Occasionally, these great roads would pay host to a pack of mules, each carrying with them saddlebags of valuables. Other times, swift regiments of horse guards would pass by, exchanging brief but informative conversation with the party before going about their way. Neither of these luxuries were available to the Prozdy men. They would have to content themselves with their heavy stress-worn boots and their iron will to keep walking. Yet, it was not without waste, this forced pace they kept themselves to. At last, before them rose the walls of mighty Astalia's capital, built of yellow-brown stones, that reflected the afternoon sun beautifully, so seamless in its construction that they appear to have grown out of the ground rather than having been fashioned by masons. Above them rose points of shining light, as stars in the broad daylight, the helmets of the garrison soldiers. Behind those walls the peaks of spires and towers rose, thin and coloured in many bright tiles. They were not built to defend against siege. This was, no question, a land of finery and luxury, of stability and excess. The city itself seemed a bulwark against the sea, placed squarely upon a sheer cliff face at the foot of which waves lapped like dogs. So near they were, that its majesty may be observed, yet it was still unlike that they would actually reach those walls before evening. No good daydreaming about rest now; there was still a ways to go. The newcomers did not arrive unnoticed. As the column of men approached, more points of light congregated together at the great gate meeting the road. Was it that they were expecting a battle? A worrying thought, that their intentions be misinterpreted. As they drew near, Vyarin could finally take note of those polished helms, and of the men sitting beneath them. Their armour was fine, intricate patterns drawn into them that shimmered in light like the sea they guarded against. In their hands were crossbows and longswords, marvels of engineering by the standards of the League. One of them shouted a few sentences in the Astalian tongue at them. By the distance, Vyarin could not quite make sense of what they were saying; not that he would have understood much of it otherwise. He turned over his shoulder at the band and shouted an order. "Bring forth one who speaks the tongue!" His words rang out, and were repeated by those immediately behind him. There was some shuffling in the ranks, and one was pushed up to the front. In broken Astalian, the guard and the Prozdy warrior exchanged greetings, and assurances of peace. With some commotion, the gates began to crank open, and his loyal men began to shout and bang their spears on their shields. The ruler of this land will know of their coming.</s> <\|message\|>Jinayah Altera THWACK! From the back of the grand castle of Astalia, on the knights' target range, came the sturdy sound of an arrow hitting a target. Princess Jinayah, fourth and final in the line of succession, lowered her recurve bow and smiled. That arrow had hit dead center. Despite today being the end of her life as she knew it, her aim was as true as ever. That, at least, was comforting. With the smooth motion of a practiced archer, she nocked another arrow and let fly. The sea breeze hit it and it arced to the left, landing just to the side of her first shot. With a faint sigh, Jinayah lowered her weapon. She shut her eyes against the breeze and let it cool her. She'd been out since before the sun rose, and it was going to be a nice and warm day. Good weather for visitors. Visitors… It still made her stomach hurt to think of it. Slowly, she pulled the thick leather archery gloves from her hands, and sat herself against the cobblestone wall. She unclasped her rich plum purple cloak and folded it nearly across her arm. Perhaps if she started into the woods now, she'd be long gone before the foreign princes arrived. Even though the thought was extremely tempting, she would not abandon her sisters. They all had to stay strong. Even if they were going to lose what they valued most. Jinayah, for one, was going to miss these mornings. Nothing but the bow, the wind, and targets. Her father had been kind once, kind enough to have the crown tailors fashion her several sets of male clothes throughout her years. There had always been mutterings about her strange proclivities. When she had asked for a bow and to learn to use it, there had been complaints from various nobles. Luckily, her father heard none of them. The first day she showed up at the pages' practice area, confusion reigned. Jin had been seven then, just the same age as all the young boys hoping to make it to knighthood. However, there was one sympathizer – Knight Captain Theodore Arnold. He was the first person to treat Jin's wish seriously, and not as a passing fancy. He trained her day and night, helping to catch her up to the boys who had sword and bow as soon as they could walk. When she stumbled in last after a footrace, there had been laughter all around. When she smacked her face with the bowstring, there had been jeers. When she lost a swordfight, she was told to go back to her knitting. Nevertheless, she persisted. Jin put everything into her training. While her sisters learned needlepoint and singing and other "feminine arts", she practiced with the bow and blade. Soon, she could hit a target at 100 paces, dead center. Soon, she could win the footraces. Soon, no one could find a more graceful fighter. Soon enough, they all took the princess quite seriously. And now, all those years building up the respect and friendship of most of the young knights in the castle were all for naught. She would be leaving sooner or later, with her new husband. When the news reached the knights, they had thrown her a small party. She had cried, like a girl, to her own embarrassment. At the end of it, Sir Theodore gave her a custom set of armor. It fit her like a glove, and left her wondering just how much he'd had to bribe the royal tailors for her measurements. That was safely hidden in a secret groove in the stones behind her wardrobe. Hopefully she would get use of it before she had to leave for good. The sun was starting to peek over the trees now, and Jin knew her time was up. She headed back inside the palace slowly, taking several hidden routes that Sulhana had found ages ago. Still, her ladies in waiting were all… well, waiting for her when she entered her room. Also waiting was a steaming hot bath and the perfumed soaps she hated. Still, she was dunked in the bath and scrubbed clean. They clucked and fussed over her calluses and muscles, implying that her future husband would not find her soft enough for the night. She wasn't fully sure she cared. All too soon, she was headed downstairs to her father and sisters, in a gown the dusky pink of a rose, and about as soft. She smelled faintly of roses too, and the scent wrinkled her nose. She smoothed out her expression, and dipped into a low curtsy in front of her father and older sisters that had arrived. "Good morning."</s>	<\|message\|>Loreena Altera Loreena had been up since the gray light of dawn. She knew it was Uriah's favorite time of day, before the sun illuminated the colors of the world, and life would begin to rouse and stir. The Court Mage would be found in the gardens at this hour, and Loreena herself was in the kitchen, warming a pot of tea for them. Today was a big day, the castle all in an flurry of preparation and excitement. Despite all of the pomp and circumstance, her teacher refused to release her from her lesson for the day. If she was to apply herself to magic, it needed to be a lifelong passion and pursuit. Loreena had shown no disappointment in his decision, despite his gruff mannerisms. Uriah had been her teacher and companion since she was 14 and her abilities had begun to manifest. He had tested all of the princesses as they came of age, but as of yet, only Lore had shown any aptitude for it. He had taken her education very seriously, and had done his best to impress on her the seriousness of the power she could wield. She had been an apt student, but magic was hard to master, and it had taken nearly a year for her just to find a focus she resonated with, and another half year after that before she could begin to weave the magic into the web of spells. Uriah had been infinitely patient with h, pushing her when she felt lazy or overconfident, and comforting her when she grew frustrated and discouraged. Through it all, he never lost his temper, was ever patient, and always emotionally solid. Lore brought the tray of tea out to the garden where he sat, meditating, preparing to greet the dawn. The older man smiled as he saw his young charge, gratefully accepting a cup of the steaming brew as the princess took a seat next to him. "A big day, milady. You meet a potential husband in a few hours. How does that make you feel?" The woman tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Nervous....excited....uncertain. I have never thought about a future with someone else. I don't know what to expect, nor if I should even expect anything at all. What if none like me? What if I make a mistake and embarrass my family? What if things don't work out?..." "And what if the sun turns purple and the birds swim and the fish fly...?" Uriah cut in, the absurdity of the statement bringing a smile to Loreena's face. He continued. "You have never needed anyone before, and you do not need anyone to continue. That being said, having a companion for your future can be a comforting and adventurous event. Yes, there is a business aspect to this, a chance for something strong and powerful to come of this, but you have a sensible mind and a romantic heart, milady. Do not waste it on someone who will not walk beside you as friend as well as lover." Loreena sipped her cup. "Is that why you never married, Uriah?" The older man chuckled. "I am married, child. To my work, to my learning, my teaching, and my magic. I love what I have learned, and I know it as intimately as any lover. I cannot expect everyone to walk the path I have, but I am content with my books. You, I sense, will not be content until you have filled volumes of books with your own stories. Now come, we will have your lesson early so you may be with your family when the guests arrive." A few hours later saw Loreena being the last of her sisters to enter the meeting room, Uriah in tow. "Sorry I'm late!" She said, bustling in, greeting each sister and their father with a kiss to the cheek before taking her place along with the others.</s>
<\|description\|>Loreena Altera Age: 21 Bio: Loreena was the second child born to Harold and Tiana, a bit of a surprise so soon after the arrival of Annalise. She was a bit of the opposite of her elder sister, darker in hair and skin and also possessed a disdain for all things court related as she grew out of the nursery. She loved her books, often sneaking down into the library and reading long into the night. She devoured books like a starving man would a loaf of bread, and it was discovered that she possessed an eidetic memory, making her classes a breeze for her, though it seems like applying her knowledge to real life provided a challenge. Lore was also the first, and seemingly only, of her sister to show any skill in magic, swiftly coming under the tutelage of the royal mages. She is able to pick up a skill quickly, but mastering it takes time. Her most secret and ardent desire is to go on an adventure. To visit a far off land, to learn new magics from various teachers, and to write an adventure story of her own. For this reason, she is, perhaps, the most interested of her sisters in the plan their father laid out for them to marry one from a different kingdom. As long as he has books, or doesn't mind her building a library, and a sense of adventure, she will be content.</s> <\|message\|>Jinayah Altera Jinayah stood politely in the great hall, waiting for the ceremony to be over. It may have looked like she was bored on the outside, but inside, she was having quite the panic. She had yet to speak a word to the foreign princes. Gifts! Why hadn't she thought of that? Then again, it's not like she was one to win over people with fancy presents. Her preferred method of making friends was finding common ground and matching over that. So what if said common ground had been arguments over the best swordsmith and one actual duel over the reputation of the best bowyer in the business? What was she going to do? For the first time in her life, Jin felt afraid of who she was. Forget falling in love; that fairy-tale nonsense was bound to be impossible. What if none of these men would simply put up with her? What if her natural inclination just scared them off? Then her father would be down one crucial alliance, and there could be an easy weakness against the growing threat of the empire! She had more or less accepted her fate as one of her father's "pieces on the board". But now she was rethinking things. What if everything was ruined? Because of her? AGAIN? The ceremony ended at some point and people began to drift away. She also left in a distracted manner, her feet moving on their own, and her head adrift in thought. It was no hidden secret in her heart that she felt responsible for her mother's death. Her siblings had treated her a bit differently in their early years. Sulhana's cutting remarks had lasted the longest. Unfortunately, some of them had been memorized in the corner of her mind, and burned like a fresh cut. Her father, gods bless him, had done his best to connect with her. But to look at your child and to only see the face of the one you loved, gone because of that same child… It was no wonder they never spoke anymore. She understood it plain – her birth and Mother's death had put them on this path. Maybe if Mother had been alive, there would have been a different solution to alliances. The four of them wouldn't be in this situation. Maybe if she had never been born at all – Jin took in a sharp breath, feeling her eyes swim. Suddenly, she just felt so out of place. Her chest seemed to buckle in on itself. The candles in the hall seemed to swirl around her, the very stone closing in. She struggled to breathe. Outside, she had to get outside. Luckily, she was nothing if not fast, and her strong legs carried her to the nearest exit past the Court of Flowers. It seemed she was right back where she had started, in the training yard. In her ballgown and regalia, she probably looked absolutely ridiculous. She strode to the shed where the training blades were kept, feeling her chest start to loosen the moment she laid hands on the sword set aside for her. Familiar steps drew her into the sword dance, and she quickly lost herself in the motions. She would go the party, and soon, but first she had to calm down, her own way.</s> <\|message\|>Erick Once the introductions and brief mingling came to an end, Erick was sure it was now the appropriate time to leave as did his council concur; they had travelled not too far but the remainder of their journey had taken them from daybreak that morning - enough as such that he sought to refresh himself and his company also would be of a similar mindset. The invitation to The Court of Flowers seemed by all accounts as though it was to be a private affair, Erick knew his men, his council, could not follow him there and he anticipated the event would certainly be a world apart from the halls and tents full of warriors, drinking and rough-housing as to which he was far more accustomed. The Jörda prince had somewhat limited associations with women too, and the kind that might have circulated the camps were unlike this kind, the wholesome women of Jörda also, were unlike this kind - he wasn't sure what to expect but, he wasn't the only one he supposed. Erick had requested he'd be directed to his chamber, his company too, which was modest in number, had some accommodations in the palace grounds and they'd dispersed to eat, drink and rest. "Try to remember, son of Henrick, why you are here" said his council, a much older man with dark hair heavily dusted with grey, it was loosely braided as was his medium length beard; he had spoke in the Jörda tongue, gripping Erick's shoulder and giving the prince a firm, intense look, before he then patted it heftily. The man passed Loreena's gift back to Erick, raising his eyebrows for a second and pulling a smile before making his leave for refreshment, the prince watched him as he disappeared along the empty corridor. When the Jörda prince finally found himself alone in his room, it came as great relief, although he knew it couldn't last as he'd have to prepare himself for the evening - his belongings had already been delivered here. Erick sat heavily on the bed, letting a deep sigh from his nose, he wondered exactly how soon the marriages were to take place and how long too before he (presumedly) would return to Jörda with one of them, or were the alliances to stay centrally within Astalia for the time being? He hoped this would not be the case. He played with the small box in his palms, pulling a thoughtful pout before he opened it slowly, producing the deep yellow jewel; it appeared almost as liquid gold when the light rebounded upon it, the jewel enrobed within the black, grey and golden ribbon reflected the colours of his house, it was truly beautiful.. 'a symbol of loyalty and trust', had the Princess Loreena meant those words, or was it the talk of court? In any case, Jörda needed the military clout of Astalia, and perhaps some mages, too. Erick, after a short time of contemplation, refreshed and readied himself for the evening to come, for he likely smelled of the horses, speaking of which, he'd be sure to check on Sinir later this evening. The prince had swapped his blue cloak for one much lighter in weight, it had no fur but a detailed golden trim, this was slung and pinned over one shoulder with a formal appearance, and he'd changed into a similar outfit although he'd removed the quilted tunic and wore only a light coloured, mid-length long sleeved shirt, belted, it had some fine and subtle embroidery at its front fastenings at the chest - it was fairly simple but more comfortable attire, as Astalia was comparatively warmer. Erick still wore the variety of heavy golden rings, he had a dense cuffed golden bangle of a serpentine design on his right wrist, whilst on the left a robust leather bracelet with beaded silver charms was wrapped firmly with a few rotations before it was tied, Loreena's jewel was compact in size that it could be woven and secured into the bracelet, and presented itself as the most illustrious charm amongst the adornments. The Jörda prince now ready to attend was escorted by an Astalian attendant who led the prince without a word through the maze (and magnificence) of the palace before finally slowing to a halt, they directed him along a hall to the door to the court. Erick arrived in time to see the half-orc prince linger for a few moments before moving on into the courtyard, he could hear the noise of the powerful waves reverberate through the stone. He made his way to follow in the wake of the Afdan prince - into the mild evening air and the setting sun bouncing around a warm, dream-like glow within the opulent surroundings of the courtyard.</s>	<\|message\|>Loreena Altera With the pleasantries done for the moment, the princes and princesses went their separate ways for a time, perhaps to reconvene later at Sulhana's behest. Uriah followed her to her quarters, but remained in the antechamber while Lore continued on to her bedroom. She didn't know what to make of the initial meeting, but her mind was already spiraling with thoughts and possibilities. "I can feel your energy all the way out here, child," came Uriah's gentle voice. "What's your judgement of the princes so far?" Loreena was busy removing some of the ceremonial trappings of her station, opting for something more comfortable and casual now. "Oh no, you're not ensnaring me in that test, Uriah. Not this time." The older man chuckled. "Fair enough. First impressions, then?" Upon hearing the princess made a noncommittal grunt in response, he grinned wider. "Be honest, girl. I'm your teacher, not a tattler." Lore sighed as she sat in front of her mirror and brushed out her hair. She gathered her thoughts, Uriah patiently waiting for her response. "Dro Vyarin seems a strong man. It is that strength I see reaching for the crown of Astalia, he has eyes only for Lisse. Though whether that's his own ambition or that of his family, I do not know." She gave a humored snort. "Alvaro I feel I could sit across from Jiny and their expressions would be the same. Neither want to do this, and I hope at least they might find themselves to be kindred spirits in that regard. "As for Erick and Gil, both seem similar in situation, but for very different reasons. Gil for the fact this is simply not his home, it's so different. And Erick... because I think he feels he is not the right one to be here. In his mind, perhaps he feels it should be another." A tenderness came into her voice. "He was the only one who seemed to show true gratitude for my gift... I appreciate it." Uriah picked up on the sweetness in her tone and hummed contently. "You do realize though, if he were to choose you, and you accepted, how close to the Empire you would be... It is Jörda's strength that currently keeps them at bay." The princess was quiet for a moment before she continued. "I know that, Uriah. But why should I think myself any better than my sisters to not take on that danger? Lisse is the heart of Astalia, the crown is hers and there is none more deserving. Jiny will go on to be some amazing warrior and grand bardic ballads will be sung of her heroism. Sulhana will own a piece of every single person who ever draws breath..." "And you, Loreena? What of Astalia's mage princess?" Loreena came out from her bedchamber then, dressed in a simple gown of cerulean fabric, the blue topaz-like jewel that acted as her focus for her magic hung by a ribbon at her throat. Her hair was braided softly, a few curled strands escaping rebelliously. "There is no crown for me, Uriah, unless I marry into one. I can barely do more than parlor tricks for another decade or so until I get stronger with my magic. I would be content to make a difference in the world of one person, and spend my days outside of Astalia, learning what magic the rest of the world holds for me." She looked up at the older mage curiously. "If...if I am ever to leave with my husband at any point...what will become of you?" Uriah faced his pupil, a fatherly smile on his face. "My duty is to the mage princess of Astalia. Not the king, not the kingdom, the princess. I will remain faithful to my duty until my charge no longer has need of me." He straightened his robes. "Now come, let us go make nice with the others once more before we're late...again." And with Loreena laughing, they hurried down the halls and towards the Court of Flowers.</s>