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5,100	134	82	1,032	421	Jonathan sat still as the commander turned his back and left. He had to admit that he made a good point about the Scar; and if this airship was inbound to restrict its spread throughout the land, they probably had good intents. Yes, joining the ship was probably the best decision. He turned to his metal companions. "Stewart, Margaret, I want you to investigate the ship. Split up and search for anything important. Stay with your communications up all the time, and if you detect something of importance, the one closest to me should find me immediately. And foremost, don't disturb any of the passengers or their possessions too much." Afterwards, he jumped onto the bridge with all his might- which was barely enough- as his companions did the same, then dispatched in different directions.	NAME— Vanahara Pike AGE— 23 GENDER— Female MASTERY— Metallic SPECIALTY— Ironworker RANK— Adept APPEARANCE— EQUIPMENT— Vanahara is practical in every way. She wears a tool belt whenever possible, and keeps some in her pocket if she can’t—she has pouches for random scraps of metal, wires, and bolts, some small blacksmithing tools—but the main part of the belt is entirely metal. She also wears iron bracers that stretch from wrist to elbow, with a leather lining that stretches into fingerless gloves. With a little Ironworker finesse, she can quickly spread the metal of a bracer into a small shield, or a larger one by bringing her forearms together. It doesn’t end there—Vana keeps metal on her wherever possible. Tucked into her boots, pins in her trousers, buckles on her vest, the ornaments in her hair; she refuses to be without a weapon if necessary. On that topic, she keeps at least one pre-formed set of brass knuckles on her at all times. She prefers not to fight, but she’s been helpless before, and doesn’t want to be there again. DEMEANOR— For her size and obvious strength, Vanahara is surprisingly quiet. She’s not unfriendly, but reserved, more willing to listen to others than talk herself. She considers every word before she says it—this slow speech and her large size combine to give the impression of stupidity, at first glance. Make no mistake, though, she’s smarter than many of her peers—she just waits before she uses it, and she never tries to show off. It can be difficult to get to know Vana, but you will never have a more loyal friend. She sticks by her friends through thick and thin, and is more than willing to stand between them and danger, and would trust them with her life. Unfortunately, no one has actually ever met one of her friends—they’re starting to doubt she has any. HISTORY— Vanahara was born in a small desert village called Sunder, the Storm always brewing on the horizon. Due to their proximity, their hostile surroundings, and their remote location, the people Vana grew up around were tough, but close-knit. Her family have been blacksmiths for generations, ever since the village sprung up and possibly before then—as such, Vana can’t ever remember the exact moment she recognized her elemental talent, as she's been around metal and tools her entire life, and can't quite pinpoint the moment it slid into supernatural ability. She had three brothers and sisters, all significantly younger than her, and it always seemed to them like she was just the perfect eldest sister. Her father was hard to please, but his praise meant everything to her with the absence of her mother; he was a devout follower of Karina and Loriot, like most of the villagers, and instilled that same sense of duty and purpose in his daughter. It seems like she’s always been bending metal to her will; when he realized she was more than just a talented smith, he said she was proud of her and sent her off to the Academy. Vana’s family is all about duty; she misses them, but she recognizes an opportunity to improve herself and the world, and she’ll do what she’s told. She hasn’t seen them in more than a decade, now—maybe soon she’ll see them again. Vana hasn’t made many friends, mainly due to her intimidating size and her quietness, but she’s not quite lonely. She's made some enemies, simply because of her skill on the dueling floor, but she's not the type to hold a grudge over anything as simple as that. She dedicated herself to learning about her abilities, and as such has become quite proficient. She’s quite talented, and controls metal almost instinctively, and she’s more than willing to follow orders—she’s a prime candidate for a military outfit, but what she really wants to do is help people with her gift, whether that's making armor for peacekeepers or going home to protect her family and her village. She wants to keep people safe, and make her father proud.
5,101	134	83	2,579	89	Raven nodded as the mages worked together to seal up the rest of the pipes that had been leaking a bit of steam, and another crewmember wandered in. "Ready to go, sir." Giving the woman a wave, Raven raised his voice so the mages and troops would all hear. "Its time to move again! Pull yourselves together, finish filling in the holes, and lets move out!" Raven announced, and turned to leave the engine room. He still had not the chance to visit the Master Alexander to even see if he had survived the trip, and had not seen any fantastic light shows that didn't involve the flames. Making his way to what appeared to be a bit of a gathering place, noting the Master Alexander, and other mages in the room. "Ladies and gents, you might have heard, but the storm has begun to make its move. Meaning the enemy has begun to make their moves. Many thanks, Master Alexander, for your assistance in that...interesting turn of events. I hope that did not tire you, for we have little time to rest to the next battleground." Raven turned about taking in the ship and the room. "This is where you mages will play your part. We'll be landing a small ways away from the objective and going through a small town. After passing that, we'll have an interesting group to tangle with, and no one knows what else. Terrain will likely be underground, or invisible. There will be mages, and fanatics, and likely a few monsters if what small intel I have is any indicator. If you have any other questions, now is the damn time to ask them." Meanwhile, the ship quietly rumbled as the propellers above slowly began to pick up speed and the ship slowly righted itself as the metal troops jumped back on board, and went about the halls once again. The harpies and creatures had finally decided that no more prey would come from the ship, and went back to hiding away in the storms. The storm, in its own destructive way, slowly seemed to creep after the ship, but did not keep pace and slowly fell behind them.	The vagueness isn't a bad problem, but there are two concerns, both a bit related to one another. Her age and her rank. Age comes into play because she is the youngest Weaver by a couple years, which wouldn't be the worst of problems except it seems that her metal abilities showed up later when working as a blacksmith. Since we already have 3 Weavers who are supposed to be in play, I am a little hesitant to take on a vague 4th. If you would be OK just dropping to Adept or Mage that would solve the age problem pretty easily. Otherwise, it reads alright other than that, so if you would make a decision regarding that I think it would be all set! Congrats on the dog hunt, and happy to hear you got them back.
5,102	134	84	1,551	217	Joey couldn't help but look amazed as he watched the Master Illuminate work. He knew the man could heal, but seeing Silvana's gashes mend right before his eyes was something he couldn't exactly express with words. Out of all of the rogue's past experiences, this particular one would most likely be one of the more unique ones. As he sent her on her way, Master Alexander turned his attention to Joey. The situation turned urgent, and the Master needed to move quickly. "...I can't promise this won't hurt, but time seems to be our enemy." Joey shrugged to the best of his ability. "That's fine, doc, Just do what you can, mate." He half thought his arm wouldn't even be fully functional after all this. He began to mumble a bit as Alex's glowing hands began to approach the injuries. "So, what, you just touch me with the light and it works-GGHHCK!" He wasn't exactly prepared for the pain that came with the repair. Much, MUCH, sharper than he was expecting. He couldn't even really scream or shout out in pain, but rather writhe in agony and let squealing noises squeeze out of the back of his throat. Moments later, his arm and ribs were working again. He slowly rose to his feet, carefully testing out the arm. "Saying it's sore would be a fuckin' understatement..." He weakly commented with a cough, giving the Master a seemingly agitated look. "I'm forever grateful, Master, consider me indefinitely in your debt." He began towards the Commander. "Alright, s'ere anywhere you need me in particular? I don't think i'm ready to go back to the cannon bay right now..."	Name: Horatio "Joey" Dunst Age: 25 Gender: Male Mastery: Earthshaper Specialty: Boulder Rank: Mage Appearance: Dirty and disheveled would be among a possible series of words used to describe the boy. He's about 5'11. Tan skin on a mostly skinny figure. He’s got strong arms and legs, though. Dark brown eyes. An unkempt bush of bouncy, brunette curls sit atop his head. Dirt marks and scars go hand in hand on decorating the boy's body, naturally. A sprinkle of dark freckles are noticeable along the bridge of his nose and cheeks. His crass, cockney accent does well to meld with his street urchin appearance. Hands and feet are usually covered in wrappings or some sort. He’s almost fiercely against any form of footwear, actually. Feeling the dust and dirt kick up between his toes is a bit securing to him. His clothes could be considered rags; a short, sleeveless white shirt and thin, brown pants covered in dirt and dust. His hooded shawl could be considered the most unique article of his attire, the knee-length brown cape draping over his shoulders and fastening at his neck. A faded, blocky, zig-zagging pattern lies all along the edge of the tattered drape. Equipment: Usually, if he isn't mindlessly twirling it between his fingers, he has a six inch dagger holstered in his belt. It has a ring near the blade by the hilt, hence all the twirling. Also usually tied along his belt, is a small sack containing the assorted forms of earth he can control. Sand, stone arrowheads, and all sorts of small rocks and pebbles are in this bag. Demeanor: He's a bit of a shady figure. Can keep up in a conversation, but it would be wise to not trust all his words. He's had to lie, cheat, and steal to get to where he is today, and it's what he knows best. Friends were few and far between for the boy, yet he's managed to get by. But, he's reckless also. Foolishly so. His life experiences have made him careless towards the direction his life goes in. Along with the numerous ways he's been used; he knows of his expendable status, he just doesn't care at this point. If you can manage past those wondrous qualities, he’s quite a blast to be around. Jokes and snarks with the best of them. Unhesitant to flirt with any sort of female. History: There's been no shortage of orphans inhabiting that island the mages were pushed to so long ago. However, there were the young ones that managed to find the righteous path, to fully embrace their abilities and to fall in line with all the other budding mages at the Academy. Joey never found this path. Not immediately, anyway. His parents, whoever they were, pulled the ol’ “baby in a basket (sans basket)” routine on a human owned monastery not too far from the nearest town, but at least several fortnights away from the nearest Academy. Little Joey was left on the doorstep with nothing more than a soiled diaper with his name hastily scrawled into it. Such an occurrence was a normal routine for the place, so of course he was taken in. From there he grew up along the monks and nuns and the other assorted ragamuffins of that monastery. He was quite the quick handed troublemaker out of the kids in his age group, a mischievous little runt that was always ready to plan or play the next prank on one of his unsuspecting elders. No doubt he was the all time best at hide and seek. They were quick to give him his forty lashings whenever they found him, too. Despite this, he was always willing to lend a hand, that is, if he were getting something out of the task. At some point in his seventeenth year, he overheard news of a public execution being held in town. It was two criminals; a mage couple. Now, he’s heard many stories and comments about mages up to this point. And none of them were good ones. They’ve been called demons, savages, heathens and false prophets. How they could manipulate flame with just a flick of the wrist, snatch the light right out of the sky, and how the earth would tremble at their will. Most of the religious folk thought that they all deserve nothing shorter than burning in hell. The news of the execution practically resulted in joyous celebration among the nuns and monks of the monastery. Naturally, Joey had to go into town to check it out, he wanted to see what these so-called demons looked like! You could imagine his disappointment when he actually set eyes on the criminals once he reached the town square. They weren’t nearly as monstrous as he was thinking. Nope, instead they looked like old, tired folk, with faces and bodies covered in bruises and cuts. Lame. He looked on, disinterested. The announcement of their crimes went mostly unheard, but it was something the executioner said that really got Joey’s attention. He announced their names: Mikaela and Rohaan Dunst. “...Dunst?” Joey scoffed. It was an interesting coincidence, that he’d have the same last name as these two. As the two dropped from the gallows, and hung for all the town to see, Joey made his way back to the monastery, not giving much thought to that strange coincidence. ...That is, until he started making little rocks float by his fingertips one day. He couldn’t even tell how he was making it happen or why, but he knew he should knock it off before someone noticed and amassed a angry mob. He did pretty well at keeping it under wraps, and even felt he could suppress his newfound abilities. But, he was eighteen pushing nineteen by this point, and felt it was time to move away from the monastery. Though from there, he was so fast to fall in with the wrong crowds. Gangs, thieves, rogues, and other presumably violent ne’er-do-wells. He would do well to use his fists to find his way out of a scrap, rather than his abilities. He would skip from town to town, ever so slowly heading in the direction of the Academy. He would swipe small trinkets and currencies from oblivious tourists and unsuspecting lodgers. If he weren’t sleeping outside in the dirt, it would be in the warm bed of a maiden he’d manage to sweet talk. If he'd get lucky, some odd job would fall into his lap during his travels, maybe help move things off a freighter, or play as an extra hand in a shakedown. The more he stole from the humans, the more he began to loathe their ways. The lot of them were selfish, ignorant, and oh so dumb. He realized the hate against mages seemed mostly for no reason, and it angered him a bit. He managed to reach the Academy just a few weeks after celebrating his twenty-fifth birthday. He was surprised at how gracefully they let him in, that is, once he showed what little of his abilities he possessed. That was understandable. Living alongside the humans for so long, he could understand why it would be so hard to trust any of them. Yet, he would wonder if anyone would trust him.
5,103	134	85	2,579	89	The soldier that Alexander addressed laughed. "Airship? This here is a warship, not just some silly airship. We have a reasonable amount of supplies. Some of the troop preferred going there...no offense to your abilities, o'course. Just that they prefer the cuts and wounds to heal on their own rather than something less...natural happen." Raven nodded to the soldier, turning to address Joey who was back in action surprisingly quickly. Regarding the mage for a moment, he grinned at the mention of the cannon bay. "You won't need to head back there any time soon. We're racing ahead of the storm to go where I suspect our unwanted storm makers are near. We'll be stopping at a bar I am rather familiar with. Hopefully we'll meet a guest, and be on our way from there. I do hope you mages know how to not draw attention to yourselves, right?" Raven shook his head, obviously not expecting much from such a question. "By the way, I ran into an....interesting fellow who has made his way onto my ship. Mage fellow with some metal helpers who decided he would come along. Perhaps you can make sense of him, for I could not."	The vagueness isn't a bad problem, but there are two concerns, both a bit related to one another. Her age and her rank. Age comes into play because she is the youngest Weaver by a couple years, which wouldn't be the worst of problems except it seems that her metal abilities showed up later when working as a blacksmith. Since we already have 3 Weavers who are supposed to be in play, I am a little hesitant to take on a vague 4th. If you would be OK just dropping to Adept or Mage that would solve the age problem pretty easily. Otherwise, it reads alright other than that, so if you would make a decision regarding that I think it would be all set! Congrats on the dog hunt, and happy to hear you got them back.
5,104	134	86	1,607	80	He had seen Metalics work before, but never up close like this. It was something interesting to behold. He nearly jumped when she recognized him Uh oh. Is this someone I met and forgot...? but then she mentioned his sister and he nodded. "Fei is a very curious girl. She's obsessed with trying to find out how all the elementals work. If she put some of that effort into practicing her own techniques, she'd be a weaver by now." He said jokingly. He then bowed a little to show some respect since she was the one who fixed things up for the most part. "Excellent work, Miss Pike. It's looks like it's brand new. The name's Drew, by the way." he said, putting his own name on as an afterthought. It was then Raven gave his little report. "Underground travel? Fanatics and more monsters? Just when we were done with the beasts here..." he grumbled. Still, they had fought off a bunch of ferocious beasts and made quick repairs. What was the worst some unofficial mages were going to do? After enduring the storm, Drew figured everything else was going to be... well, not easy, but at least easier. "We can handle this, right?" he said to Vanahara, not even waiting for an answer before he stepped off to go meet with the others. It took some time, but he managed to get to Raven, Alexander, Silvana, Horatio and the others. "So... care to go into a little detail about our path? I can get the underground thing, but I'm still trying to wrap my head around invisible terrain. Maybe it's because I'm literally outside my element, but I can't see how even the storm could cause something like that."	Name: Drew Hidalgo Age: 27 Gender: Male Mastery: Hydromancer Specialty: Storms Rank: Adept Appearance: Drew is tall, but he tends to slouch or hunch over, so he appears to be average height. He wears a simple light grey robe with a hood (though he hardly wears the hood). He has pale skin, medium-length brown hair, a constant 5 o’clock shadow that he can’t seem to get rid of or get to grow further, and green eyes that tend to be half-closed all the time. Between the slumping and the closed eyes, Drew constantly looks like he’s asleep. Equipment: nothing beyond the essentials. Demeanor: Not terribly sociable, but not a brooding loner. He’ll stay with groups and chime in occasionally, but he usually just sits back and listens. Willing to let others know what he thinks, but he does try to have some tact about it. Has an odd distrust of Nightshades. Hard to earn his trust, but he’ll trust you almost unconditionally once you earn it. History: Compared to most, some would say Drew’s upbringing was dull. He was born to parents who were well off, even if they weren't actually wealthy. His powers manifested at the earliest point possible and his parents sent him off to the academy with little complications. They were very supportive and tried to stay in contact with him whenever they could, though their jobs as nomadic merchants meant they had much to deal with. Drew would discover he had a talent for some of the more niche parts of the path of the Storm, though the basics of the Hydromancer were harder for him to grasp. Though he had trouble making water solid and even making great quantities of liquid, he was very skilled at manipulating vapors, forming mists and clouds and even generating and controlling the element of lightning. He could still make rain and make liquid from gas, but his expertise was in the winds, not the waters. Time would pass and he’d do above average in his classes. He wasn’t a social butterfly, but he wasn’t a pariah either. He made friends and even had a few relationships, but they all just seemed to drift away over time, and neither side really strove to maintain contact. He became just another face in the crowd, the guy who sat at the back of the classrooms and sat around his living quarters quietly. The one constant companion he had was his little sister, Fei, who was discovered to be an elemental years after Drew was enrolled. She looked up to him and thinks of him as the smartest, coolest mage in the academy (especially because of his skills making lightning). Drew never tried to impress anyone at the academy, never giving in to any dares or listening to the instructor’s wishes for him to better himself or “live up to his true potential”. He does well in his classes, had his specialties, so he thought that was enough. But deep down, he does try to be the mage his sister sees him as. It’s why he finally got the motivation to finally try and get himself promoted to weaver (he was considered, and good words were said, but he was ultimately rejected) and why he’s going on this journey.
5,105	134	87	1,657	181	Nataly felt comforted that at least one other person on the ship thought the Commander was absolutely insane. I knew it! I knew it couldn't just be me! At least there's someone on this ship I can trust to be sane... She was about to confirm Ling's thoughts when a crew member came bursting in, demanding that Ling take a look at something elsewhere on the ship. Sounded shadowy. Shadowy meant it had no interest to Nataly. As Ling went off with the crew member, a yawn escaped the Hydromancer's lips. The fight had taken more out of her than she thought. She decided her room was too far away so the common room would have to do. It wasn't unusual for people to crash in public areas at the academy. Surely the tradition would carry over here. Nataly curled up on the little bench that Ling abdicated and pulled her singed robes over her head as she attempted to get a nap in before the Commander did something else crazy.	Name: Nataly Andrade Age: 26 Gender: Female Mastery: Hydromancer Specialty: Blizzard Rank: Adept Nataly is 5'7" and is a slight 116 lbs. Her northern roots show in her pale skin, contrasting with ice blue hair. The hair is cut short, left at about shoulder length and her have bangs bound with purple bands. She has eyes are deeper blue than her hair, and what could be considered a "cute" complexion. People are surprised by Nataly's slender frame because her robes are huge. They billow out from the sides and are bulky with fluff to protect from the cold that she conjures. Contrary to her skills, underneath the robes she dresses rather revealingly, to help deal with the heat of the southern lands the Academy sit on (relatively speaking). She has a pendant with a cut piece of blue amber on it that she'll often pull out to help her focus when conjuring up her icy magics. Equipment: Why carry weapons when concealable and untraceable ones can be crafted out of ice? Demeanor: Nataly has been rather bubbly as of late. The prospect of finally getting promoted from Adept to Weaver has lifted her spirits in recent months, and has seen a surge in her production in classes as well as her kindness towards her fellow Hydros. You do not want to get on her bad side though. If ever wronged in any way, it's not possible for Nataly to just let it go. History: The Andrades welcomed young Nataly into the family during a nasty blizzard in the Far Northern town of Cartaquilla, which serves as the main port for the Kingdom of Gran Helada. That might have served as a premonition for Nataly's future, but blizzards were a regular facet of life in the frozen lands. For Falco, a fisherman by trade, and Yoreli, a stay-at-home mother, the first daughter in the family after three boys was a welcome change and they doted the young girl from the moment she was placed in the buffered crib. The first sign that Nataly might be special in more ways than one manifested when she was eleven. Yoreli opened the door to Nataly's room one morning to find the girl playing in a layer of snow, a icy replica of her brother Jaime standing guard as she made snow angels. Yoreli scolded the child for leaving the window open and letting all the snow in but the window was closed, revealing the sunny day that Cartaquilla had been blessed with. As Yoreli looked up she could see the sprinkles of snowflakes falling from the ceiling, then dropped down to her daughter, still happily waving her arms without a care in the world. This revelation was met with fear and seclusion for Nataly, as Yoreli did her best to hide the witchcraft her daughter perpetrated. Falco paid no mind, usually out on trawling expeditions but Yoreli kept Nataly's powers a secret from her husband and he maintained a loving bond with his child. However, the snow that Nataly so willingly embraced would prove to be her father's downfall. Twelve hours after he left Cartaquilla on a day hunt for crab, one of the worst blizzards in a century struck. It paralyzed the region and trapped all seabound ships for days while the ice raged on. Worry grew with each passing day, and the prospect of Falco returning was fading. It got to the point that on the third day, Yoreli came out into the snow, searching for her sixteen year old daughter only to find Nataly standing in her pyjamas, tears frozen to her face, desperately trying to bend the snow away to open a path for her father to come back. She failed. Without Falco, Yoreli tried to look for other paths to taking care of her children. She learned about the Academy for people with Nataly's talents, so the girl was sent packing at age 17 for the far south. Nataly was slow to progress off the bat. She still was upset about her father and did not want to conjure up the substance that took him away in her mind, but eventually the icy walls tumbled down and she was starting to get the hang of controlling her gifts. She finally passed her Adept exam at 23, and has been working hard to try and progress up the ranks. Nataly wants to get to the point where she could control the snowstorms of her hometown and at least make sure other kids don't have to lose their parents like she did.
5,106	134	88	2,579	89	Don't worry about offending me. You wouldn't be the first community to mistrust magic users. In fact if I had to list them all you'd be one of the more tolerant societies I've seen. Though that's only based on your diplomats and military, plenty of time to be pelted with stones and have threats of tarring and feathering hurled at me. He replied with a cheerful grin and a chuckle. He had long learned to let such things go. "In any case, I can always render more traditional aid. If you have a more dedicated medical area on the ship, I'd prefer to be there. Either to let the others see what I can do first hand, or at least to sew up their cuts and ice their bruises."	The vagueness isn't a bad problem, but there are two concerns, both a bit related to one another. Her age and her rank. Age comes into play because she is the youngest Weaver by a couple years, which wouldn't be the worst of problems except it seems that her metal abilities showed up later when working as a blacksmith. Since we already have 3 Weavers who are supposed to be in play, I am a little hesitant to take on a vague 4th. If you would be OK just dropping to Adept or Mage that would solve the age problem pretty easily. Otherwise, it reads alright other than that, so if you would make a decision regarding that I think it would be all set! Congrats on the dog hunt, and happy to hear you got them back.
5,107	134	89	2,700	181	Over the next few hours, Ling used the downtime to prepare more vials of potion. Another batch of Restoratives, plus a set of Acidic Disablers. Corrosive and painful on contact with bare skin, the Disabler was a recipe designed for combative Alchemists, to take an enemy out of the fight for a while or stop them from rushing towards the potioneer. Commander Hayes' rules were simple enough, and there was no sense in not following them - especially since he was in charge right now. Unfamiliar territory meant it was better to avoid drawing attention to oneself, Ling had thought as she made her preparations. Kei was secure in its holster, of course, but in the interest of wishing to appear more or less normal she had had to leave most of her potions in her room on the ship. There were only a couple on her belt, plus her knife. One green Disabler and one standard red Restorative. But they would have to suffice, lest she draw attention with her brightly coloured vials. And there was always the crossbow to do the heavy lifting. As the group entered the bar and found a table, Ling cast an eye about the place... and quickly found herself rather uncomfortable, for several reasons, with what appeared to be the theme. She averted her eyes from the waitresses and leering crowds, pulling the edge of her hat down a few inches to visibly block some things - and people - from her sight. So she cast her eyes downward, studying the tree-ring patterns in the wooden table. This was an odd place to be, she thought. More so if the reason for being here was to meet a particular someone. Wasn't a private parlour a better place for something like this? Or better yet, the ship they'd flown in on? Hayes presumably had a room to himself, what with being a Commander and all. Ling's musing was interrupted with the explosive introduction of the... mages. At least three. Using their power to intimidate, steal and kill for no reason other than because they could. She didn't see a way to draw Kei and ready it in the subdued bar without attracting attention. So she took the vial of acid from her belt, holding it in one hand under the table and looking to Hayes to see if he showed any signs of strategic thinking.	Name: Ling the Silver Vial Age: 24 Gender: Female Mastery: Nightshade Specialty: Alchemist Rank: Adept Appearance: As Ling originates from the Dragon Empire of the eastern plains, she is Imperial in appearance and stature; she stands at five feet seven inches tall and is notably lightweight. Her black hair is always tied back in a short ponytail; no sense in letting it get everywhere. She has brown eyes, almost always behind protective glasses out of habit. Ling can usually be found wearing black pants and a simple black-and-white tunic with long sleeves (which are rolled up when working). Her tunics bear her personal emblem in silver thread: a potion vial with an Imperial dragon curled around it. When travelling, Ling will often don a wide straw hat and a pack to hold textbooks, journals, and similar bulky items. She supplements her outfit with a belt of pouches to hold potion ingredients and the tools to work them, and two sets of leather straps. The first is fitted with loops and pockets to hold potion vials, plus a sheath to hold a silver knife. The second keeps her weapon of choice secured on her back. Equipment: Aside from a bag of Imperial silver, her usual supplies of potion ingredients, and the tools a travelling Alchemist would normally need, Ling carries a custom-made crossbow and four rectangular boxes of bolts called autoquivers. The crossbow has several modifications from the standard model: its arms can fold inward for ease of transport; a lever on the side, when pulled, draws the string back without the need for extensive strength; and the stock's space for ammunition is twice the width of a standard crossbow. This last feature allows Ling to fire either standard-issue bolts from a fitted autoquiver, or potion vials that explode on impact, scattering their contents across a patch of land or group of opponents - or allies. Ling had her crossbow - which she fondly nicknames "Kei" - and its autoquivers custom-built for her purposes. Each autoquiver holds fifteen bolts, and bolts can be replaced at any blacksmith. One of her autoquivers is marked with a skull and crossbones, the classic indicator of poison, indicating she has applied poison to each bolt in that pack. Demeanour: Some paint the Nightshades as sullen, selfish individuals who seek only a means to achieve their own ends. Ling is almost the exact opposite. She's cheery and outgoing, willing to help others in a situation even if there's no up-front benefit to her. In this sense she might be considered a tiny bit naive. She does, however, have a particular devotion to her alchemy; while working, she enters a state of focus in which nothing outside of the immediate area matters until her task is complete. There's no sense in leaving a potion of any kind half-finished; as a result, Ling ensures she has everything in order before she starts work. Ling also makes a point of keeping notes on all of her standard-issue potions and experiments. She finds the latter much more interesting than the former: there's no sense of discovery in copying the methods used by the textbooks. She has already filled several journals with these notes, in addition to memorising all of the more commonly made recipes (some of which have her own unique spin on them). Despite being of the Nightshade mastery, Ling shies away from Sitheria, God of Darkness. Instead, she favours two others of the Council: Alainia, God of Water; and Loriot, God of Fire. Ling believes that Alainia and Loriot, while opposed in their Elements and her own, are the closest to Alchemy at its core. History: The Dragon Empire is a fascinating culture. There, the long, snakelike Imperial dragons are revered in almost any art form you would care to mention. Statuary, paintings, the written word, even architecture. Little is seen of the majestic creatures, as they are often hostile to human life and civilisation, yet at the same time the Empire reveres the dragons for their grace and beauty. Of course, Ling knows nothing of the Empire firsthand, as she was shipped overseas to another Academy at the age of three, when she was tested for magical potential like all Imperial children. There is no Academy in the Dragon Empire: in the year 73 AW, after the destruction of the first Imperial Academy - whether as a result of a spell gone awry or a deliberate act of arson was never found out - Emperor Jutai Fallen Leaf declared that his lands would play host to no mage. To this day, all Imperial children are tested for magical power at an early age. Those that show the signs are shipped elsewhere, and may apply for Imperial citizenship at the age of nineteen despite being confined to Academy life. The young Ling was part of a group of fifteen Imperial children sent to the Academy, filtered into the Nightshade mastery with two others. Her grasp on shadow magic was limited, while the other young Nightshades reveled in their new-found power. But she persisted, not wishing to fall behind. Eventually, at the age of twelve, the path of the Alchemist was opened to her, and she threw herself into it. Ling found alchemy intriguing; the chemical transmutation of simple, disparate ingredients into a greater, more powerful whole. She didn't care that the Masters had chosen to wait to see whether her skills would develop. This was where she would thrive, she told herself, pushing her limits on a regular basis. She caught up to her fellow students, those the same age who had chosen their paths before her, within six months, and didn't stop there. During her later teenage years, Ling volunteered for journeys outside the Academy. Whether the gathering of unusual ingredients that couldn't be found in the Academy's gardens, eliminating a group of bandits before they could attack a nearby town, or just providing an escort for a trip for younger mages, she wanted in on them. She wanted to see what life was like outside the walls. While she has never visited the Dragon Empire on one of these journeys - it is a long way - she studied the region and its culture during this time. At the age of eighteen, she accompanied a caravan of supplies leaving the Academy for the purposes of trade. She supported the caravan's guards for most of the trip there and back, fending off unwanted company. But while they fought with magical prowess, she hurled vials and passed restoratives to those who needed them. On the way back to the Academy, she ran out of potions, having only prepared a dozen beforehand. It was only after documenting her experiences that Ling realised that potions and poisons simply weren't enough to be properly supportive. She had to be able to cause some effective damage herself; otherwise, she was just another body the caravan guards needed to protect. So she began researching means of expanding upon the simple act of throwing potion vials to cause harm. There was a recent innovation in throwing short spears from a Metallic kid, that she jumped on and experimented with. While the technique was certainly effective for the javelin, it was almost useless for throwing potions. Too inaccurate without a proper guidance system. And then came the brainwave. A crossbow, modified ever so slightly to accept the small vials she used frequently. Ling, still at the rank of Mage at this time, went to a Metallic Weaver with a bag of coins in one hand and her notes in the other. The Weaver and the Mage spent the next few weeks on her customised weapon, ranging from sourcing the required materials to Ling providing several potion-related favours. But after a month of work, the crossbow was finally finished, and with a few extra modifications for ease of use. Calibrated perfectly for the throwing of vials with just enough force to catapult them a good distance, but not enough to shatter them when she pulled the trigger. As a bonus gift, the customised weapon, which Ling named "Kei", came with a set of long box-shaped containers of crossbow bolts, to be fitted atop the weapon. Submissions of high-strength potions for examination, as well as a short written paper on her vial-launching crossbow, earned Ling the rank of Adept soon after she turned nineteen. And with this promotion came her choice of title: she became Ling the Silver Vial. Surnames are uncommon in the Dragon Empire: instead, titles chosen by the individual are the norm. Whether a title comes before or after the given name is up to the individual, but a title will always have some reflection of the person choosing it. To give examples, an adventurer might call himself "Explorer Lun", while a Metallic Elemental might refer to himself as "Shang the Steel Hand". An Imperial citizen will usually choose his or her title at the age of nineteen, when Imperial law deems them a legal adult. But now that she had passed the first of her trials, Ling had even more work to do. So she got stuck into it, working late into the night to complete her projects and supplementing her midnight studies with restorative draughts to keep her awake and focused. It was here that shadow magic began to play a part in Ling's studies once more: the art of drawing a fragment of one's own shadow into a bottle to serve as an ingredient called an umbral reagent. A grasp on this particular alchemical discipline eluded Ling for several years, to the point where she began to experiment, finishing the textbook's recipes without the regents. Every one of them blew up in her laboratory. Without the use of umbral reagents, the Adept-tier recipes were unstable; they needed the refining qualities of the reagents to blend components that - as Ling learned the hard way - reacted badly to one another. Ling saw this only as another obstacle. She pushed herself harder, driving herself to find a way to either follow the textbook's methods, or create an alternative to the use of umbral reagents. She asked Weavers and historians, gathered the most odd or unusual of components, all in the name of solving this problem. Three years after becoming an Adept, she knew every Adept recipe back to front, but had little practical experience because she still struggled to bottle a tiny piece of her own shadow. But no matter what she tried, her experiments resulted in wasted efforts, not even acidic enough for throwing at something. Frustrated, Ling stormed out of the Academy with Kei on her back. She hitched a ride with a caravan to one of the nearby cities, seeking something - anything - she hadn't used yet. There was nothing. So, having spent the day searching with no result except a box of vials from a glassblower and a pack of crossbow bolts from the blacksmith - each traded for a trio of Ling's homebrew all-nighter tonics - she settled into a seat in the caravan with a profound sense of having wasted her time. Halfway back to the Academy, the caravan was ambushed. "You alright there, miss Ling? You're looking like a bee got under your hat." "I'm fine. Just keeping an eye on the road." Ling's response was terse and quiet. As always when travelling, she had Kei in her hands, an autoquiver in place. It was better to be safe than sorry, she reasoned, especially since she was the only mage on this trip. The caravan rounded a corner in the road, to find the path blocked by a makeshift barricade: logs, hastily jammed into place to hinder passage. The driver spat over the side. "Sons of... we've got company." Almost instantly, Ling was on her feet, her weapon up and aimed. Four bandits leaped from their hiding places, an assortment of weapons in hand. "Get behind me," was Ling's command to the driver before she pointed Kei at the closest of the ragtag bunch. "I am Ling the Silver Vial. If you have even a scrap of self-preservation, you will dismantle this barricade and allow us to pass." The lead bandit just chuckled. "Yer pretty words dun mean nuthin, girlie. Drop the weapon." "Oh, you want simpler words? Fine. The bolt in my crossbow is poisoned. One cut is all it takes." It was a bluff, but a carefully crafted one. The man flinched, but recovered his composure. "There's six of us an' one of you. Y'can't take us all on." Too dumb to count. Not worth the effort of negotiations. Ling pulled the trigger. The bolt hit him straight in the chest, like she'd trained. She didn't even watch the man fall, instead yanking on Kei's reset switch to reload before putting another shot into the second bandit. One of the outlaws tried to rush for the horse pulling the caravan; if they couldn't take the whole thing, they could at least cripple it, preventing it from moving. Out flashed a thrown vial, shattering on contact and dousing the rogue in acidic fluid. He flailed away from the caravan, screaming as the poison ate at his face. An arrow, crudely made, punched through the side of the caravan. Ling looked up to find the last bandit standing on a thick branch, carrying a bow and quiver. The second shot grazed the back of her hand; it was Ling's turn to flinch as she felt blood seep out from her skin. But she raised Kei and launched a series of bolts upward, peppering the archer's perch and knocking him out of his vantage point. He was dead before he hit the ground. And just like that, it was over. The one that Ling had hit with the acidic vial remained only in cries, as he had dashed away to find water. Ling spun to the inside of the caravan. "Is everyone all right?" The caravan master, two young boys and a lady in a sunhat were hiding, trying to make themselves as small as possible. Breathing slowly to calm herself, Ling collapsed Kei's arms and stowed the crossbow on her back, hands open to show she meant no harm. Even an Alchemist was still a mage. "It's okay, they're gone. The fighting's over." "A-Are you sure, miss?" "Positive." "If you're certain... hell's gates, miss Ling, you did quite the number on them," the caravan master murmured as he peered out at the scene. He jumped down to check on the horse, which was skittish and restless. "I didn't hit him with the vial, did I?" she queried. "No, no, he seems fine." "Oh, good. Last thing we needed was a panicked horse." "Last thing we needed was this damn ambush. If'n you can give a hand with getting these logs out the way, that'd be aces. C'mon, boys, time to earn your keep." The man beckoned to the two lads in the caravan, who jumped out and hurried to help him with the barricade. Ling hesitated, however, taking the time to examine her hand, which had taken a glancing blow. There was no sign of poison affecting the area, which was always a good sign. However, as she raised her hand to study it in the light, the entire injury turned solid grey, even the thin trail of blood. Ling dabbed at the viscous liquid with one finger; it remained the same grey-black colour. Ling could feel the presence of her shadow magic, stronger than ever. Inspired, she hurried to her space in the caravan, drew a vial from its box and collected the shed blood within. The glass and its contents seemed to glow in her hand. Reagent magic will become easier over time as you get used to touching your shadow. Ordinarily an intangible presence, the spell twists your shadow's properties, changing it, allowing you to gather it in your hand as you would do with mundane water. When the preparation stage is complete, pour a handful into a vial and allow it to sit for a few minutes until it turns darker and thicker, similar to blood. The paragraph on umbral reagents came to Ling's mind easily. The vial's contents were almost an exact match to the accompanying sketch. But she hadn't done as the textbook prescribed. It was almost involuntary, like her shadow magic was called to the spilled blood, mixing of its own accord. Ling bested the bandits easily, thanks to Kei and an acidic vial. When the trip was concluded and Ling was safe in her laboratory, she drew out a vial of blood she had collected after the fight and examined it. It bore all the physical signs of an umbral reagent, as described in her textbooks, but there was only one way to be sure it had the alchemical properties of one. Ling quickly prepared an introductory Adept potion for regeneration of injuries. Two bright red flasks, whipped up within minutes... all that remained was to blend the two together in the same flask as the reagent, according to the book. So she tipped her vial of infused blood into a flask, lit a fire beneath it, and tentatively poured the other two in with the grey, holding her breath all the while. The three liquids began to bubble and merge, aided by Ling's tentative stirring, then the potion turned a bold, dark red, unlike the two from a minute before. No explosion. No shattering of glass. Ling had found the key, her way to progress as an Adept. Her first priority, however, was to inform the Masters, to ensure she wasn't breaking any rules or wouldn't accidentally poison anyone with her blood-fueled potions. The ensuing discussion was intense, thorough, and more than a little scary; she was called on to repeat the creation under a Master's scrutiny. She managed it, though, and didn't poison him in the process. That was always good; there was often a chance that a healing potion, even one made to the letter, could turn out to be lethal. And since she was dealing with previously uncharted territory, anything could happen. But nothing did. The shadow-infused blood acted in the exact same manner as an ordinary umbral reagent. After another hour of talks with the Masters, Ling was cleared to continue her work in this unusual fashion. And continue she did. She took to carrying a knife to draw her own blood for her reagents. Coaxing shadow magic into the shed blood quickly became easier, aided by restoratives and regeneration potions, but she couldn't draw too much too quickly or she would have to wait even longer to resume her work. She depended on being in some degree of physical fitness, to ensure she could heal quickly from the cuts she inflicted on herself. Thankfully, any scars she might have gathered were quickly healed by her own creations. And occasionally an Illuminate healer, in the first stages of her experiments when she cut too deep and caused more pain than she had intended. After several years of further study, Ling is slowly working her way through her textbooks. She still relies on drawing blood to produce her reagents instead of just drawing scraps of shadow directly. While she understands the Masters' concern for her variation on the core practices, she still feels a tiny bit held back by their observations. Her method is unusual, but just as effective as the standard procedure. But she brushes it off, and tries to be her usual bright and cheery self; the Masters do what they do for a reason.
5,108	134	90	1,551	217	Joey could only frown at the mention against juggling rocks. It was a fun pastime, and he always had a habit of keeping his hands busy. "Well, there's always an alternative." He thought, before producing his sole gold coin. Well, at least he wouldn't have to worry about looking like a mage. "I'm positive me "dirty street rat" look won't gain any attention." Soon, the traveling party proceeded towards their destination. And upon entering the not-so-modest abode, the dusty rogue's eyes lit like a child on christmas morn. Alluring, sauntering, voluptuous females, all waiting tables and jiggling about in revealing attire. Joey would've got on all fours and started howling if he were any more of a horndog. Eventually they were guided to a table, and Joey managed to survey his surroundings, rather than just surveying waitress butts. He kept his hands preoccupied as usual, having his gold coin tumble about between his fingers. He was kind of lost in the scene, until the interesting trio of mages showed up. He didn't really pay attention to the trio, until a drunk went up in flames. Even then, he only made mention of the fourth individual. "Corr, lookit the shanks on that bloke! I'd like ta get me mitts on those twin beauties!" He whispered in excitement. In all honesty, the four looked like his kind of people. But, he had no intentions on pairing up with the strangers of the strange land. If anything, he hoped they would instigate something with the others. Would give him a good excuse to nick those weapons. He made his coin twirling a little more obvious in the meantime, wondering if one of them were petty enough to ask for it.	Name: Horatio "Joey" Dunst Age: 25 Gender: Male Mastery: Earthshaper Specialty: Boulder Rank: Mage Appearance: Dirty and disheveled would be among a possible series of words used to describe the boy. He's about 5'11. Tan skin on a mostly skinny figure. He’s got strong arms and legs, though. Dark brown eyes. An unkempt bush of bouncy, brunette curls sit atop his head. Dirt marks and scars go hand in hand on decorating the boy's body, naturally. A sprinkle of dark freckles are noticeable along the bridge of his nose and cheeks. His crass, cockney accent does well to meld with his street urchin appearance. Hands and feet are usually covered in wrappings or some sort. He’s almost fiercely against any form of footwear, actually. Feeling the dust and dirt kick up between his toes is a bit securing to him. His clothes could be considered rags; a short, sleeveless white shirt and thin, brown pants covered in dirt and dust. His hooded shawl could be considered the most unique article of his attire, the knee-length brown cape draping over his shoulders and fastening at his neck. A faded, blocky, zig-zagging pattern lies all along the edge of the tattered drape. Equipment: Usually, if he isn't mindlessly twirling it between his fingers, he has a six inch dagger holstered in his belt. It has a ring near the blade by the hilt, hence all the twirling. Also usually tied along his belt, is a small sack containing the assorted forms of earth he can control. Sand, stone arrowheads, and all sorts of small rocks and pebbles are in this bag. Demeanor: He's a bit of a shady figure. Can keep up in a conversation, but it would be wise to not trust all his words. He's had to lie, cheat, and steal to get to where he is today, and it's what he knows best. Friends were few and far between for the boy, yet he's managed to get by. But, he's reckless also. Foolishly so. His life experiences have made him careless towards the direction his life goes in. Along with the numerous ways he's been used; he knows of his expendable status, he just doesn't care at this point. If you can manage past those wondrous qualities, he’s quite a blast to be around. Jokes and snarks with the best of them. Unhesitant to flirt with any sort of female. History: There's been no shortage of orphans inhabiting that island the mages were pushed to so long ago. However, there were the young ones that managed to find the righteous path, to fully embrace their abilities and to fall in line with all the other budding mages at the Academy. Joey never found this path. Not immediately, anyway. His parents, whoever they were, pulled the ol’ “baby in a basket (sans basket)” routine on a human owned monastery not too far from the nearest town, but at least several fortnights away from the nearest Academy. Little Joey was left on the doorstep with nothing more than a soiled diaper with his name hastily scrawled into it. Such an occurrence was a normal routine for the place, so of course he was taken in. From there he grew up along the monks and nuns and the other assorted ragamuffins of that monastery. He was quite the quick handed troublemaker out of the kids in his age group, a mischievous little runt that was always ready to plan or play the next prank on one of his unsuspecting elders. No doubt he was the all time best at hide and seek. They were quick to give him his forty lashings whenever they found him, too. Despite this, he was always willing to lend a hand, that is, if he were getting something out of the task. At some point in his seventeenth year, he overheard news of a public execution being held in town. It was two criminals; a mage couple. Now, he’s heard many stories and comments about mages up to this point. And none of them were good ones. They’ve been called demons, savages, heathens and false prophets. How they could manipulate flame with just a flick of the wrist, snatch the light right out of the sky, and how the earth would tremble at their will. Most of the religious folk thought that they all deserve nothing shorter than burning in hell. The news of the execution practically resulted in joyous celebration among the nuns and monks of the monastery. Naturally, Joey had to go into town to check it out, he wanted to see what these so-called demons looked like! You could imagine his disappointment when he actually set eyes on the criminals once he reached the town square. They weren’t nearly as monstrous as he was thinking. Nope, instead they looked like old, tired folk, with faces and bodies covered in bruises and cuts. Lame. He looked on, disinterested. The announcement of their crimes went mostly unheard, but it was something the executioner said that really got Joey’s attention. He announced their names: Mikaela and Rohaan Dunst. “...Dunst?” Joey scoffed. It was an interesting coincidence, that he’d have the same last name as these two. As the two dropped from the gallows, and hung for all the town to see, Joey made his way back to the monastery, not giving much thought to that strange coincidence. ...That is, until he started making little rocks float by his fingertips one day. He couldn’t even tell how he was making it happen or why, but he knew he should knock it off before someone noticed and amassed a angry mob. He did pretty well at keeping it under wraps, and even felt he could suppress his newfound abilities. But, he was eighteen pushing nineteen by this point, and felt it was time to move away from the monastery. Though from there, he was so fast to fall in with the wrong crowds. Gangs, thieves, rogues, and other presumably violent ne’er-do-wells. He would do well to use his fists to find his way out of a scrap, rather than his abilities. He would skip from town to town, ever so slowly heading in the direction of the Academy. He would swipe small trinkets and currencies from oblivious tourists and unsuspecting lodgers. If he weren’t sleeping outside in the dirt, it would be in the warm bed of a maiden he’d manage to sweet talk. If he'd get lucky, some odd job would fall into his lap during his travels, maybe help move things off a freighter, or play as an extra hand in a shakedown. The more he stole from the humans, the more he began to loathe their ways. The lot of them were selfish, ignorant, and oh so dumb. He realized the hate against mages seemed mostly for no reason, and it angered him a bit. He managed to reach the Academy just a few weeks after celebrating his twenty-fifth birthday. He was surprised at how gracefully they let him in, that is, once he showed what little of his abilities he possessed. That was understandable. Living alongside the humans for so long, he could understand why it would be so hard to trust any of them. Yet, he would wonder if anyone would trust him.
5,109	134	91	1,032	421	The hours until the ship touched down were...uneventful. Pained as she was to admit it, even to herself, Vanahara was...not so great at small talk. At least at the Academy among her fellow Metallics, things had settled into a kind of pattern—people didn't talk to her, and she didn't talk to people. Now that she was thrown into a group of strangers, however, she was out of her element (literally). After parting ways with Drew with a stilted smile, she wandered the ship, at a loss for what to do. She almost paused in the common room, but spotted one of the hydromancers—Nataly; she really needed to remember names—sleeping in a corner, and crept past. When she found a suitably dark corner, Vana paused, checking that no one was watching her too closely. She pulled one of the pouches from her belt and tipped its contents into her other hand. With a sound like sloshing water, a scrap of the Storm-steel from earlier that she'd managed to hold onto dripped into her palm, gleaming slightly even in the dark. Eyes lighting up with interest, she cupped both hands around it, tilting it back and forth to study the way it moved. She'd never seen metal like this before—it was almost like molten silver, but it was cool to the touch and the battle on the deck had been proof of its strength, not to mention she could sense it was very fine quality. Its only fault was its unwillingness to hold one shape—while it was easy enough to form a sphere or a cube standing alone in a hallway, it still took focus she might not have in the midst of battle. After a while, she sighed, letting it drip back into her belt pouch before setting off again on her rounds of the ship. For now, she'd keep it to herself, but later she'd see if their new arrival knew anything about Storm metals. Inevitably, she found herself back in the engine room. This time, at least, the engineers didn't seem to object to her presence and simply ignored her. That suited her just fine as she made sure to stay out of their way and merely sat, palms pressed to the metal pipe behind her, gaining a little more understanding of the ship's workings with every passing minute. When the call came that they'd landed and the Commander was going into town, Vanahara joined the small party. At the order to not give themselves away as mages, she blinked, both confused and concerned as to why it would be necessary. It was simple enough, though—her clothes were rough as they were. The only strange thing about her attire was her bracers, and she merely tucked them into a larger pouch at her side. Her arms felt strangely bare without them, but they'd be at hand if she really needed them. Stepping into the tavern, she realized she probably would. This was a rough joint, that much was obvious before they even entered, and once Vana was inside, her nose wrinkled of its own accord. "Scantily clad women, an undercurrent of violence, and utterly drunk men," she muttered as she sat with the other mages on one of the outer seats. "What a dazzling combination." For a moment, she thought that the atmosphere could only get better, not worse—and then a boulder crashed through the door, a man was set on fire, and Vanahara could feel a headache coming on. She couldn't keep the scowl off her face, either—this was exactly why mages were feared throughout the known world. Bad examples, the lot of them. And one of those bad examples was coming their way now. The ice mage was making a circuit of the room, slamming her fist into people or tables with impunity. Vana's fists clenched under the table, knuckles going whiter and whiter with every crash of cutlery and tankards as the mage hit each table hard enough to send them bouncing. She ground her teeth, but stayed where she was, remembering clearly Hayes' instructions to stay incognito and trying to block out the jeers from the other mages. The ice mage, of course, made the mistake of coming around to their table. With a sneer, the woman raised her fist to slam it into the table— And found it stopped, inches above the wood. Vanahara's hand was clenched around the bottom of the mage's fist, forearm straining as she kept it from making contact with the table. Once she was sure the other mage wouldn't be making the same deafening racket as at the other tables, she released her hand easily enough, settling her own back in her lap and meeting the ice mage's eyes calmly. "That's enough of that, thank you," she said quietly.	NAME— Vanahara Pike AGE— 23 GENDER— Female MASTERY— Metallic SPECIALTY— Ironworker RANK— Adept APPEARANCE— EQUIPMENT— Vanahara is practical in every way. She wears a tool belt whenever possible, and keeps some in her pocket if she can’t—she has pouches for random scraps of metal, wires, and bolts, some small blacksmithing tools—but the main part of the belt is entirely metal. She also wears iron bracers that stretch from wrist to elbow, with a leather lining that stretches into fingerless gloves. With a little Ironworker finesse, she can quickly spread the metal of a bracer into a small shield, or a larger one by bringing her forearms together. It doesn’t end there—Vana keeps metal on her wherever possible. Tucked into her boots, pins in her trousers, buckles on her vest, the ornaments in her hair; she refuses to be without a weapon if necessary. On that topic, she keeps at least one pre-formed set of brass knuckles on her at all times. She prefers not to fight, but she’s been helpless before, and doesn’t want to be there again. DEMEANOR— For her size and obvious strength, Vanahara is surprisingly quiet. She’s not unfriendly, but reserved, more willing to listen to others than talk herself. She considers every word before she says it—this slow speech and her large size combine to give the impression of stupidity, at first glance. Make no mistake, though, she’s smarter than many of her peers—she just waits before she uses it, and she never tries to show off. It can be difficult to get to know Vana, but you will never have a more loyal friend. She sticks by her friends through thick and thin, and is more than willing to stand between them and danger, and would trust them with her life. Unfortunately, no one has actually ever met one of her friends—they’re starting to doubt she has any. HISTORY— Vanahara was born in a small desert village called Sunder, the Storm always brewing on the horizon. Due to their proximity, their hostile surroundings, and their remote location, the people Vana grew up around were tough, but close-knit. Her family have been blacksmiths for generations, ever since the village sprung up and possibly before then—as such, Vana can’t ever remember the exact moment she recognized her elemental talent, as she's been around metal and tools her entire life, and can't quite pinpoint the moment it slid into supernatural ability. She had three brothers and sisters, all significantly younger than her, and it always seemed to them like she was just the perfect eldest sister. Her father was hard to please, but his praise meant everything to her with the absence of her mother; he was a devout follower of Karina and Loriot, like most of the villagers, and instilled that same sense of duty and purpose in his daughter. It seems like she’s always been bending metal to her will; when he realized she was more than just a talented smith, he said she was proud of her and sent her off to the Academy. Vana’s family is all about duty; she misses them, but she recognizes an opportunity to improve herself and the world, and she’ll do what she’s told. She hasn’t seen them in more than a decade, now—maybe soon she’ll see them again. Vana hasn’t made many friends, mainly due to her intimidating size and her quietness, but she’s not quite lonely. She's made some enemies, simply because of her skill on the dueling floor, but she's not the type to hold a grudge over anything as simple as that. She dedicated herself to learning about her abilities, and as such has become quite proficient. She’s quite talented, and controls metal almost instinctively, and she’s more than willing to follow orders—she’s a prime candidate for a military outfit, but what she really wants to do is help people with her gift, whether that's making armor for peacekeepers or going home to protect her family and her village. She wants to keep people safe, and make her father proud.
5,110	134	92	1,607	80	His question went unanswered and he just found himself getting quickly patched up and sent to a quiet corner. He drifted around, occasionally lifting himself off the ground and hovering for a few steps before landing again. He would pass a few of the other elementals, but not during any of their private moments. He was like a ghost, just wandering the halls of the ship without actually interacting with anyone. It reminded him a bit too much of the academy, honestly... Later They went through the town without incident. He blended in well enough, breaking apart from the every now and then to take in some of the sights, but reconverging with them when they went into the tavern. He wasn't impressed. He had a natural hatred of crowded spaces in general bordering on agoraphobia. He had even less fondness for places where interactions with strangers was expected, and unwanted interaction was likely to happen. And he held an extra level of disdain for institutions like this where people take advantage of others. So a loud, crowded, noisy bar with unruly drunken patrons staffed by women in skimpy outfits, both trying to get him to ogle them for tips and having to deal with said unruly drunken patrons taking things too far. He wanted to reach out and cover his ears and grumble, mirroring Ling's actions. Then the mages came in. "And to top it all off, we're probably not even getting any food..." he sighed. Of course they were here to rob the drunks and customers. Easy targets, after all. But did they have to do this now? He was wondering just what to do next. He took a moment and glanced at Joey. "THAT'S the thing that interests you?" he shrugged, just letting them move. He could always try something, but it might be better to wait. The choice was no longer worth considering once Vana stopped the ice mage. He wouldn't attack right away. Getting into a figurative tug-of-war with a fellow water mage would be hell in this sort of space, even if he was skilled enough to pull it off. Plenty of material, but unwanted competition. Too much risk of collateral damage, which put him at a disadvantage. So instead he'd get to work on a more tactical approach. "No need for unneeded violence. We're a group of humble travelers. Not a single penny to our name. We were plotting a dine-and-dash, that's how desperate we are." he said, nudging everyone with his feet under the table. He knew violence was inevitable. So they might as well start in their favor, and that meant catching them unaware. By all means, please interrupt me, guys...	Name: Drew Hidalgo Age: 27 Gender: Male Mastery: Hydromancer Specialty: Storms Rank: Adept Appearance: Drew is tall, but he tends to slouch or hunch over, so he appears to be average height. He wears a simple light grey robe with a hood (though he hardly wears the hood). He has pale skin, medium-length brown hair, a constant 5 o’clock shadow that he can’t seem to get rid of or get to grow further, and green eyes that tend to be half-closed all the time. Between the slumping and the closed eyes, Drew constantly looks like he’s asleep. Equipment: nothing beyond the essentials. Demeanor: Not terribly sociable, but not a brooding loner. He’ll stay with groups and chime in occasionally, but he usually just sits back and listens. Willing to let others know what he thinks, but he does try to have some tact about it. Has an odd distrust of Nightshades. Hard to earn his trust, but he’ll trust you almost unconditionally once you earn it. History: Compared to most, some would say Drew’s upbringing was dull. He was born to parents who were well off, even if they weren't actually wealthy. His powers manifested at the earliest point possible and his parents sent him off to the academy with little complications. They were very supportive and tried to stay in contact with him whenever they could, though their jobs as nomadic merchants meant they had much to deal with. Drew would discover he had a talent for some of the more niche parts of the path of the Storm, though the basics of the Hydromancer were harder for him to grasp. Though he had trouble making water solid and even making great quantities of liquid, he was very skilled at manipulating vapors, forming mists and clouds and even generating and controlling the element of lightning. He could still make rain and make liquid from gas, but his expertise was in the winds, not the waters. Time would pass and he’d do above average in his classes. He wasn’t a social butterfly, but he wasn’t a pariah either. He made friends and even had a few relationships, but they all just seemed to drift away over time, and neither side really strove to maintain contact. He became just another face in the crowd, the guy who sat at the back of the classrooms and sat around his living quarters quietly. The one constant companion he had was his little sister, Fei, who was discovered to be an elemental years after Drew was enrolled. She looked up to him and thinks of him as the smartest, coolest mage in the academy (especially because of his skills making lightning). Drew never tried to impress anyone at the academy, never giving in to any dares or listening to the instructor’s wishes for him to better himself or “live up to his true potential”. He does well in his classes, had his specialties, so he thought that was enough. But deep down, he does try to be the mage his sister sees him as. It’s why he finally got the motivation to finally try and get himself promoted to weaver (he was considered, and good words were said, but he was ultimately rejected) and why he’s going on this journey.
5,111	134	93	1,551	217	I'm a man with simple needs, mate. Joey quietly replied to Drew, struggling to keep a straight face after witnessing Vanahara's metaphorical balls of steel. Were this any other tense bar scenario, his mouth would've hung agape, and out it would've spewed excited jeers and over-exaggerated cheering to really instigate the situation. Instead, he kept his expressions and mannerisms calm and stoic. He didn't want to be the one blamed by the group for "starting the elementally-assisted bar brawl". Drew nudged at him as he tried defusing the situation. It was clear the situation was only growing tenser. Joey was sure to keep his hands on the table. No need to make an obvious scene of sliding his hands towards his weapons. So, he continued to play with his coin. He realized the glint of the metal could've contradicted Drew's bluff, and this only made him more anxious. "Yeah, there ain't nothing on us, mate. Jog on." Joey piped up, his legs growing restless. By this point, he was just raring to go.	Name: Horatio "Joey" Dunst Age: 25 Gender: Male Mastery: Earthshaper Specialty: Boulder Rank: Mage Appearance: Dirty and disheveled would be among a possible series of words used to describe the boy. He's about 5'11. Tan skin on a mostly skinny figure. He’s got strong arms and legs, though. Dark brown eyes. An unkempt bush of bouncy, brunette curls sit atop his head. Dirt marks and scars go hand in hand on decorating the boy's body, naturally. A sprinkle of dark freckles are noticeable along the bridge of his nose and cheeks. His crass, cockney accent does well to meld with his street urchin appearance. Hands and feet are usually covered in wrappings or some sort. He’s almost fiercely against any form of footwear, actually. Feeling the dust and dirt kick up between his toes is a bit securing to him. His clothes could be considered rags; a short, sleeveless white shirt and thin, brown pants covered in dirt and dust. His hooded shawl could be considered the most unique article of his attire, the knee-length brown cape draping over his shoulders and fastening at his neck. A faded, blocky, zig-zagging pattern lies all along the edge of the tattered drape. Equipment: Usually, if he isn't mindlessly twirling it between his fingers, he has a six inch dagger holstered in his belt. It has a ring near the blade by the hilt, hence all the twirling. Also usually tied along his belt, is a small sack containing the assorted forms of earth he can control. Sand, stone arrowheads, and all sorts of small rocks and pebbles are in this bag. Demeanor: He's a bit of a shady figure. Can keep up in a conversation, but it would be wise to not trust all his words. He's had to lie, cheat, and steal to get to where he is today, and it's what he knows best. Friends were few and far between for the boy, yet he's managed to get by. But, he's reckless also. Foolishly so. His life experiences have made him careless towards the direction his life goes in. Along with the numerous ways he's been used; he knows of his expendable status, he just doesn't care at this point. If you can manage past those wondrous qualities, he’s quite a blast to be around. Jokes and snarks with the best of them. Unhesitant to flirt with any sort of female. History: There's been no shortage of orphans inhabiting that island the mages were pushed to so long ago. However, there were the young ones that managed to find the righteous path, to fully embrace their abilities and to fall in line with all the other budding mages at the Academy. Joey never found this path. Not immediately, anyway. His parents, whoever they were, pulled the ol’ “baby in a basket (sans basket)” routine on a human owned monastery not too far from the nearest town, but at least several fortnights away from the nearest Academy. Little Joey was left on the doorstep with nothing more than a soiled diaper with his name hastily scrawled into it. Such an occurrence was a normal routine for the place, so of course he was taken in. From there he grew up along the monks and nuns and the other assorted ragamuffins of that monastery. He was quite the quick handed troublemaker out of the kids in his age group, a mischievous little runt that was always ready to plan or play the next prank on one of his unsuspecting elders. No doubt he was the all time best at hide and seek. They were quick to give him his forty lashings whenever they found him, too. Despite this, he was always willing to lend a hand, that is, if he were getting something out of the task. At some point in his seventeenth year, he overheard news of a public execution being held in town. It was two criminals; a mage couple. Now, he’s heard many stories and comments about mages up to this point. And none of them were good ones. They’ve been called demons, savages, heathens and false prophets. How they could manipulate flame with just a flick of the wrist, snatch the light right out of the sky, and how the earth would tremble at their will. Most of the religious folk thought that they all deserve nothing shorter than burning in hell. The news of the execution practically resulted in joyous celebration among the nuns and monks of the monastery. Naturally, Joey had to go into town to check it out, he wanted to see what these so-called demons looked like! You could imagine his disappointment when he actually set eyes on the criminals once he reached the town square. They weren’t nearly as monstrous as he was thinking. Nope, instead they looked like old, tired folk, with faces and bodies covered in bruises and cuts. Lame. He looked on, disinterested. The announcement of their crimes went mostly unheard, but it was something the executioner said that really got Joey’s attention. He announced their names: Mikaela and Rohaan Dunst. “...Dunst?” Joey scoffed. It was an interesting coincidence, that he’d have the same last name as these two. As the two dropped from the gallows, and hung for all the town to see, Joey made his way back to the monastery, not giving much thought to that strange coincidence. ...That is, until he started making little rocks float by his fingertips one day. He couldn’t even tell how he was making it happen or why, but he knew he should knock it off before someone noticed and amassed a angry mob. He did pretty well at keeping it under wraps, and even felt he could suppress his newfound abilities. But, he was eighteen pushing nineteen by this point, and felt it was time to move away from the monastery. Though from there, he was so fast to fall in with the wrong crowds. Gangs, thieves, rogues, and other presumably violent ne’er-do-wells. He would do well to use his fists to find his way out of a scrap, rather than his abilities. He would skip from town to town, ever so slowly heading in the direction of the Academy. He would swipe small trinkets and currencies from oblivious tourists and unsuspecting lodgers. If he weren’t sleeping outside in the dirt, it would be in the warm bed of a maiden he’d manage to sweet talk. If he'd get lucky, some odd job would fall into his lap during his travels, maybe help move things off a freighter, or play as an extra hand in a shakedown. The more he stole from the humans, the more he began to loathe their ways. The lot of them were selfish, ignorant, and oh so dumb. He realized the hate against mages seemed mostly for no reason, and it angered him a bit. He managed to reach the Academy just a few weeks after celebrating his twenty-fifth birthday. He was surprised at how gracefully they let him in, that is, once he showed what little of his abilities he possessed. That was understandable. Living alongside the humans for so long, he could understand why it would be so hard to trust any of them. Yet, he would wonder if anyone would trust him.
5,112	134	94	2,579	89	As the ice mage had been making rounds and intimidation with impunity, coming upon the table where another simply grabbed her fist caused things to go deathly silent in the bar. The look alone on the woman's face was priceless as she fixed Vana with a gaze that at first was nothing but surprise, but when it slowly dawned on her that she had now been shown up by a quietly speaking "merchant" if the other fellows who spoke up were any indicator. "It sounds like you are holding out, especially when you toy with the money you have...merchant." She couldn't put much more sneer into that final word if she had tried. Reaching to another table, she pulled the water free to make a long icy spear. "I don't think you understand the situation. I am going to be taking any gems you have, either with your hand giving them over, or pulling them from your crispy or cold hands." The fire mage, now also taking note of a potential chance to burn more things without problems, came over to the table too, having a flame dance along their right arm. "Problems, sister? We do not have the time for this. Perhaps we should just light them all and be done with it?" Making good on the phrase, the area around the fire mage noticeably heated, as flames began to circle both arms with a glint now entering the fire mages eyes. Raven only shot a glance at Joey and Drew, keeping silent with the enemy mages now wanting to pay more attention to the 'rebel table'. The other two kept to the door, still gathering a few other gems and items into a waiting bag while the ice and fire mage confronted the table which began getting more attention than the gemstones going to the bag itself. Noting the very tense silence that had now drifted over the entire bar, and that they now had to make an example of the rebellious group who seemed to defy them simply through existence, the icy mage pulled her spear back, and swung it at Vana. The intent was obvious: to slice any part of her to get the point across that they were in charge.	The vagueness isn't a bad problem, but there are two concerns, both a bit related to one another. Her age and her rank. Age comes into play because she is the youngest Weaver by a couple years, which wouldn't be the worst of problems except it seems that her metal abilities showed up later when working as a blacksmith. Since we already have 3 Weavers who are supposed to be in play, I am a little hesitant to take on a vague 4th. If you would be OK just dropping to Adept or Mage that would solve the age problem pretty easily. Otherwise, it reads alright other than that, so if you would make a decision regarding that I think it would be all set! Congrats on the dog hunt, and happy to hear you got them back.
5,113	134	95	1,607	80	Alexander had continued his work right up until the ship landed and it was time to leave. Throwing on a simple brown cloak he had followed the others to the bar. Taking in the full scenery before him. It was downright comforting to see that the town and its people didn't lead vastly different lives. Points of commonality were always important in these situations. Inside the bar he had swiftly ordered drinks for himself and the commander. Before they arrived however a group of mages decided to give everyone else a bad name. He had been content to sit back and mostly let this play out due to the commander's orders. That lasted right up until one of his charges was threatened. "I think I understand the situation just fine. Allow me to apologize for the actions of my comrades." As he spoke he made a small motion to hopefully signal the students to look away. Right after he stood up in an apparent motion to find something of value, he instead created a blinding flash of light meant to disorient but not harm. Using a laser to cut the head off the spear.	Name: Drew Hidalgo Age: 27 Gender: Male Mastery: Hydromancer Specialty: Storms Rank: Adept Appearance: Drew is tall, but he tends to slouch or hunch over, so he appears to be average height. He wears a simple light grey robe with a hood (though he hardly wears the hood). He has pale skin, medium-length brown hair, a constant 5 o’clock shadow that he can’t seem to get rid of or get to grow further, and green eyes that tend to be half-closed all the time. Between the slumping and the closed eyes, Drew constantly looks like he’s asleep. Equipment: nothing beyond the essentials. Demeanor: Not terribly sociable, but not a brooding loner. He’ll stay with groups and chime in occasionally, but he usually just sits back and listens. Willing to let others know what he thinks, but he does try to have some tact about it. Has an odd distrust of Nightshades. Hard to earn his trust, but he’ll trust you almost unconditionally once you earn it. History: Compared to most, some would say Drew’s upbringing was dull. He was born to parents who were well off, even if they weren't actually wealthy. His powers manifested at the earliest point possible and his parents sent him off to the academy with little complications. They were very supportive and tried to stay in contact with him whenever they could, though their jobs as nomadic merchants meant they had much to deal with. Drew would discover he had a talent for some of the more niche parts of the path of the Storm, though the basics of the Hydromancer were harder for him to grasp. Though he had trouble making water solid and even making great quantities of liquid, he was very skilled at manipulating vapors, forming mists and clouds and even generating and controlling the element of lightning. He could still make rain and make liquid from gas, but his expertise was in the winds, not the waters. Time would pass and he’d do above average in his classes. He wasn’t a social butterfly, but he wasn’t a pariah either. He made friends and even had a few relationships, but they all just seemed to drift away over time, and neither side really strove to maintain contact. He became just another face in the crowd, the guy who sat at the back of the classrooms and sat around his living quarters quietly. The one constant companion he had was his little sister, Fei, who was discovered to be an elemental years after Drew was enrolled. She looked up to him and thinks of him as the smartest, coolest mage in the academy (especially because of his skills making lightning). Drew never tried to impress anyone at the academy, never giving in to any dares or listening to the instructor’s wishes for him to better himself or “live up to his true potential”. He does well in his classes, had his specialties, so he thought that was enough. But deep down, he does try to be the mage his sister sees him as. It’s why he finally got the motivation to finally try and get himself promoted to weaver (he was considered, and good words were said, but he was ultimately rejected) and why he’s going on this journey.
5,114	134	96	2,700	181	Ling raised her eyebrows at the exchange between the ice mage, Vanahara, and Alexander. Then the Illuminate Master gave an indication that simply said "cover your eyes". She looked away as he produced the blinding flare. With that, the time for civil discussion was practically over. Willing to try one last attempt, Ling got to her feet and drew Kei, quickly priming it. She then fitted the Disabler vial into its slot and brought the crossbow to bear, aiming for each of the hostile mages in turn. "I'm about to shoot one of you with a potent acidic mixture. The vial's contents will splash everywhere on contact. If it gets into your system, you will undoubtedly die." The last one was a bluff, but there was no reason to let them know that. She'd had practice at this sort of thing. "If you have any sense, drop the valuables and leave. Or you can all watch one of your friends vomit blood and try to claw their own eyeballs out." The mages just laughed and raised their hands, preparing more spells. Ling sighed, disappointed. "Fine, suit yourselves." She snapped Kei around to aim at the rogue Earthshaper and pulled the trigger, sending the Disabler vial straight at him. As the glass shattered and the acid splashed across his rocky armour, she pulled an autoquiver from its holster, slammed it into place, and yanked on the reload lever to properly engage in combat.	Name: Ling the Silver Vial Age: 24 Gender: Female Mastery: Nightshade Specialty: Alchemist Rank: Adept Appearance: As Ling originates from the Dragon Empire of the eastern plains, she is Imperial in appearance and stature; she stands at five feet seven inches tall and is notably lightweight. Her black hair is always tied back in a short ponytail; no sense in letting it get everywhere. She has brown eyes, almost always behind protective glasses out of habit. Ling can usually be found wearing black pants and a simple black-and-white tunic with long sleeves (which are rolled up when working). Her tunics bear her personal emblem in silver thread: a potion vial with an Imperial dragon curled around it. When travelling, Ling will often don a wide straw hat and a pack to hold textbooks, journals, and similar bulky items. She supplements her outfit with a belt of pouches to hold potion ingredients and the tools to work them, and two sets of leather straps. The first is fitted with loops and pockets to hold potion vials, plus a sheath to hold a silver knife. The second keeps her weapon of choice secured on her back. Equipment: Aside from a bag of Imperial silver, her usual supplies of potion ingredients, and the tools a travelling Alchemist would normally need, Ling carries a custom-made crossbow and four rectangular boxes of bolts called autoquivers. The crossbow has several modifications from the standard model: its arms can fold inward for ease of transport; a lever on the side, when pulled, draws the string back without the need for extensive strength; and the stock's space for ammunition is twice the width of a standard crossbow. This last feature allows Ling to fire either standard-issue bolts from a fitted autoquiver, or potion vials that explode on impact, scattering their contents across a patch of land or group of opponents - or allies. Ling had her crossbow - which she fondly nicknames "Kei" - and its autoquivers custom-built for her purposes. Each autoquiver holds fifteen bolts, and bolts can be replaced at any blacksmith. One of her autoquivers is marked with a skull and crossbones, the classic indicator of poison, indicating she has applied poison to each bolt in that pack. Demeanour: Some paint the Nightshades as sullen, selfish individuals who seek only a means to achieve their own ends. Ling is almost the exact opposite. She's cheery and outgoing, willing to help others in a situation even if there's no up-front benefit to her. In this sense she might be considered a tiny bit naive. She does, however, have a particular devotion to her alchemy; while working, she enters a state of focus in which nothing outside of the immediate area matters until her task is complete. There's no sense in leaving a potion of any kind half-finished; as a result, Ling ensures she has everything in order before she starts work. Ling also makes a point of keeping notes on all of her standard-issue potions and experiments. She finds the latter much more interesting than the former: there's no sense of discovery in copying the methods used by the textbooks. She has already filled several journals with these notes, in addition to memorising all of the more commonly made recipes (some of which have her own unique spin on them). Despite being of the Nightshade mastery, Ling shies away from Sitheria, God of Darkness. Instead, she favours two others of the Council: Alainia, God of Water; and Loriot, God of Fire. Ling believes that Alainia and Loriot, while opposed in their Elements and her own, are the closest to Alchemy at its core. History: The Dragon Empire is a fascinating culture. There, the long, snakelike Imperial dragons are revered in almost any art form you would care to mention. Statuary, paintings, the written word, even architecture. Little is seen of the majestic creatures, as they are often hostile to human life and civilisation, yet at the same time the Empire reveres the dragons for their grace and beauty. Of course, Ling knows nothing of the Empire firsthand, as she was shipped overseas to another Academy at the age of three, when she was tested for magical potential like all Imperial children. There is no Academy in the Dragon Empire: in the year 73 AW, after the destruction of the first Imperial Academy - whether as a result of a spell gone awry or a deliberate act of arson was never found out - Emperor Jutai Fallen Leaf declared that his lands would play host to no mage. To this day, all Imperial children are tested for magical power at an early age. Those that show the signs are shipped elsewhere, and may apply for Imperial citizenship at the age of nineteen despite being confined to Academy life. The young Ling was part of a group of fifteen Imperial children sent to the Academy, filtered into the Nightshade mastery with two others. Her grasp on shadow magic was limited, while the other young Nightshades reveled in their new-found power. But she persisted, not wishing to fall behind. Eventually, at the age of twelve, the path of the Alchemist was opened to her, and she threw herself into it. Ling found alchemy intriguing; the chemical transmutation of simple, disparate ingredients into a greater, more powerful whole. She didn't care that the Masters had chosen to wait to see whether her skills would develop. This was where she would thrive, she told herself, pushing her limits on a regular basis. She caught up to her fellow students, those the same age who had chosen their paths before her, within six months, and didn't stop there. During her later teenage years, Ling volunteered for journeys outside the Academy. Whether the gathering of unusual ingredients that couldn't be found in the Academy's gardens, eliminating a group of bandits before they could attack a nearby town, or just providing an escort for a trip for younger mages, she wanted in on them. She wanted to see what life was like outside the walls. While she has never visited the Dragon Empire on one of these journeys - it is a long way - she studied the region and its culture during this time. At the age of eighteen, she accompanied a caravan of supplies leaving the Academy for the purposes of trade. She supported the caravan's guards for most of the trip there and back, fending off unwanted company. But while they fought with magical prowess, she hurled vials and passed restoratives to those who needed them. On the way back to the Academy, she ran out of potions, having only prepared a dozen beforehand. It was only after documenting her experiences that Ling realised that potions and poisons simply weren't enough to be properly supportive. She had to be able to cause some effective damage herself; otherwise, she was just another body the caravan guards needed to protect. So she began researching means of expanding upon the simple act of throwing potion vials to cause harm. There was a recent innovation in throwing short spears from a Metallic kid, that she jumped on and experimented with. While the technique was certainly effective for the javelin, it was almost useless for throwing potions. Too inaccurate without a proper guidance system. And then came the brainwave. A crossbow, modified ever so slightly to accept the small vials she used frequently. Ling, still at the rank of Mage at this time, went to a Metallic Weaver with a bag of coins in one hand and her notes in the other. The Weaver and the Mage spent the next few weeks on her customised weapon, ranging from sourcing the required materials to Ling providing several potion-related favours. But after a month of work, the crossbow was finally finished, and with a few extra modifications for ease of use. Calibrated perfectly for the throwing of vials with just enough force to catapult them a good distance, but not enough to shatter them when she pulled the trigger. As a bonus gift, the customised weapon, which Ling named "Kei", came with a set of long box-shaped containers of crossbow bolts, to be fitted atop the weapon. Submissions of high-strength potions for examination, as well as a short written paper on her vial-launching crossbow, earned Ling the rank of Adept soon after she turned nineteen. And with this promotion came her choice of title: she became Ling the Silver Vial. Surnames are uncommon in the Dragon Empire: instead, titles chosen by the individual are the norm. Whether a title comes before or after the given name is up to the individual, but a title will always have some reflection of the person choosing it. To give examples, an adventurer might call himself "Explorer Lun", while a Metallic Elemental might refer to himself as "Shang the Steel Hand". An Imperial citizen will usually choose his or her title at the age of nineteen, when Imperial law deems them a legal adult. But now that she had passed the first of her trials, Ling had even more work to do. So she got stuck into it, working late into the night to complete her projects and supplementing her midnight studies with restorative draughts to keep her awake and focused. It was here that shadow magic began to play a part in Ling's studies once more: the art of drawing a fragment of one's own shadow into a bottle to serve as an ingredient called an umbral reagent. A grasp on this particular alchemical discipline eluded Ling for several years, to the point where she began to experiment, finishing the textbook's recipes without the regents. Every one of them blew up in her laboratory. Without the use of umbral reagents, the Adept-tier recipes were unstable; they needed the refining qualities of the reagents to blend components that - as Ling learned the hard way - reacted badly to one another. Ling saw this only as another obstacle. She pushed herself harder, driving herself to find a way to either follow the textbook's methods, or create an alternative to the use of umbral reagents. She asked Weavers and historians, gathered the most odd or unusual of components, all in the name of solving this problem. Three years after becoming an Adept, she knew every Adept recipe back to front, but had little practical experience because she still struggled to bottle a tiny piece of her own shadow. But no matter what she tried, her experiments resulted in wasted efforts, not even acidic enough for throwing at something. Frustrated, Ling stormed out of the Academy with Kei on her back. She hitched a ride with a caravan to one of the nearby cities, seeking something - anything - she hadn't used yet. There was nothing. So, having spent the day searching with no result except a box of vials from a glassblower and a pack of crossbow bolts from the blacksmith - each traded for a trio of Ling's homebrew all-nighter tonics - she settled into a seat in the caravan with a profound sense of having wasted her time. Halfway back to the Academy, the caravan was ambushed. "You alright there, miss Ling? You're looking like a bee got under your hat." "I'm fine. Just keeping an eye on the road." Ling's response was terse and quiet. As always when travelling, she had Kei in her hands, an autoquiver in place. It was better to be safe than sorry, she reasoned, especially since she was the only mage on this trip. The caravan rounded a corner in the road, to find the path blocked by a makeshift barricade: logs, hastily jammed into place to hinder passage. The driver spat over the side. "Sons of... we've got company." Almost instantly, Ling was on her feet, her weapon up and aimed. Four bandits leaped from their hiding places, an assortment of weapons in hand. "Get behind me," was Ling's command to the driver before she pointed Kei at the closest of the ragtag bunch. "I am Ling the Silver Vial. If you have even a scrap of self-preservation, you will dismantle this barricade and allow us to pass." The lead bandit just chuckled. "Yer pretty words dun mean nuthin, girlie. Drop the weapon." "Oh, you want simpler words? Fine. The bolt in my crossbow is poisoned. One cut is all it takes." It was a bluff, but a carefully crafted one. The man flinched, but recovered his composure. "There's six of us an' one of you. Y'can't take us all on." Too dumb to count. Not worth the effort of negotiations. Ling pulled the trigger. The bolt hit him straight in the chest, like she'd trained. She didn't even watch the man fall, instead yanking on Kei's reset switch to reload before putting another shot into the second bandit. One of the outlaws tried to rush for the horse pulling the caravan; if they couldn't take the whole thing, they could at least cripple it, preventing it from moving. Out flashed a thrown vial, shattering on contact and dousing the rogue in acidic fluid. He flailed away from the caravan, screaming as the poison ate at his face. An arrow, crudely made, punched through the side of the caravan. Ling looked up to find the last bandit standing on a thick branch, carrying a bow and quiver. The second shot grazed the back of her hand; it was Ling's turn to flinch as she felt blood seep out from her skin. But she raised Kei and launched a series of bolts upward, peppering the archer's perch and knocking him out of his vantage point. He was dead before he hit the ground. And just like that, it was over. The one that Ling had hit with the acidic vial remained only in cries, as he had dashed away to find water. Ling spun to the inside of the caravan. "Is everyone all right?" The caravan master, two young boys and a lady in a sunhat were hiding, trying to make themselves as small as possible. Breathing slowly to calm herself, Ling collapsed Kei's arms and stowed the crossbow on her back, hands open to show she meant no harm. Even an Alchemist was still a mage. "It's okay, they're gone. The fighting's over." "A-Are you sure, miss?" "Positive." "If you're certain... hell's gates, miss Ling, you did quite the number on them," the caravan master murmured as he peered out at the scene. He jumped down to check on the horse, which was skittish and restless. "I didn't hit him with the vial, did I?" she queried. "No, no, he seems fine." "Oh, good. Last thing we needed was a panicked horse." "Last thing we needed was this damn ambush. If'n you can give a hand with getting these logs out the way, that'd be aces. C'mon, boys, time to earn your keep." The man beckoned to the two lads in the caravan, who jumped out and hurried to help him with the barricade. Ling hesitated, however, taking the time to examine her hand, which had taken a glancing blow. There was no sign of poison affecting the area, which was always a good sign. However, as she raised her hand to study it in the light, the entire injury turned solid grey, even the thin trail of blood. Ling dabbed at the viscous liquid with one finger; it remained the same grey-black colour. Ling could feel the presence of her shadow magic, stronger than ever. Inspired, she hurried to her space in the caravan, drew a vial from its box and collected the shed blood within. The glass and its contents seemed to glow in her hand. Reagent magic will become easier over time as you get used to touching your shadow. Ordinarily an intangible presence, the spell twists your shadow's properties, changing it, allowing you to gather it in your hand as you would do with mundane water. When the preparation stage is complete, pour a handful into a vial and allow it to sit for a few minutes until it turns darker and thicker, similar to blood. The paragraph on umbral reagents came to Ling's mind easily. The vial's contents were almost an exact match to the accompanying sketch. But she hadn't done as the textbook prescribed. It was almost involuntary, like her shadow magic was called to the spilled blood, mixing of its own accord. Ling bested the bandits easily, thanks to Kei and an acidic vial. When the trip was concluded and Ling was safe in her laboratory, she drew out a vial of blood she had collected after the fight and examined it. It bore all the physical signs of an umbral reagent, as described in her textbooks, but there was only one way to be sure it had the alchemical properties of one. Ling quickly prepared an introductory Adept potion for regeneration of injuries. Two bright red flasks, whipped up within minutes... all that remained was to blend the two together in the same flask as the reagent, according to the book. So she tipped her vial of infused blood into a flask, lit a fire beneath it, and tentatively poured the other two in with the grey, holding her breath all the while. The three liquids began to bubble and merge, aided by Ling's tentative stirring, then the potion turned a bold, dark red, unlike the two from a minute before. No explosion. No shattering of glass. Ling had found the key, her way to progress as an Adept. Her first priority, however, was to inform the Masters, to ensure she wasn't breaking any rules or wouldn't accidentally poison anyone with her blood-fueled potions. The ensuing discussion was intense, thorough, and more than a little scary; she was called on to repeat the creation under a Master's scrutiny. She managed it, though, and didn't poison him in the process. That was always good; there was often a chance that a healing potion, even one made to the letter, could turn out to be lethal. And since she was dealing with previously uncharted territory, anything could happen. But nothing did. The shadow-infused blood acted in the exact same manner as an ordinary umbral reagent. After another hour of talks with the Masters, Ling was cleared to continue her work in this unusual fashion. And continue she did. She took to carrying a knife to draw her own blood for her reagents. Coaxing shadow magic into the shed blood quickly became easier, aided by restoratives and regeneration potions, but she couldn't draw too much too quickly or she would have to wait even longer to resume her work. She depended on being in some degree of physical fitness, to ensure she could heal quickly from the cuts she inflicted on herself. Thankfully, any scars she might have gathered were quickly healed by her own creations. And occasionally an Illuminate healer, in the first stages of her experiments when she cut too deep and caused more pain than she had intended. After several years of further study, Ling is slowly working her way through her textbooks. She still relies on drawing blood to produce her reagents instead of just drawing scraps of shadow directly. While she understands the Masters' concern for her variation on the core practices, she still feels a tiny bit held back by their observations. Her method is unusual, but just as effective as the standard procedure. But she brushes it off, and tries to be her usual bright and cheery self; the Masters do what they do for a reason.
5,115	134	97	1,032	421	Vanahara's eyes narrowed as the ice mage swung her staff behind her ear, readying for a blow. Unfortunately for her, she raised her forearm in an automatic defense, forgetting for the moment she wore no bracer—fortunately for her, Master Alexander knew his craft. As the flare went off, she shifted from her ill-advised defensive move into covering her eyes with her arm, and afterimages still bled through. Ling raised her crossbow, and Vana winced; they'd have to do some quick talking after this was over to maintain their cover. The bright light could have been a gunpowder flash grenade...right? Somehow, over the sudden cries of those caught unawares and momentarily blinded, Vana heard a splash, and her eyes were drawn to the ice mage. The woman's eyes were wide, her attention on her armor, sweeping her hands up and down in an attempt to refreeze the rapidly thawing ice—her spear had already been reduced to little more than snowdrifts on the ground. Every distraction was an opening. As soon as Ling fired her vial, Vanahara lunged. She grabbed the ice mage by the hair and arm, yanking her forward and slamming her face-first into the table. She followed it up with a sharp kick to the kneecap that should, with luck, send her to the ground. She could feel the icy plate that had been so solid-looking splinter around her heel—Drew worked quickly. A flash out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, and Vana dropped into a crouch behind the table, wincing as a jet of flame burst over her head. Karina's mercy, we're literally stuck in a corner.	NAME— Vanahara Pike AGE— 23 GENDER— Female MASTERY— Metallic SPECIALTY— Ironworker RANK— Adept APPEARANCE— EQUIPMENT— Vanahara is practical in every way. She wears a tool belt whenever possible, and keeps some in her pocket if she can’t—she has pouches for random scraps of metal, wires, and bolts, some small blacksmithing tools—but the main part of the belt is entirely metal. She also wears iron bracers that stretch from wrist to elbow, with a leather lining that stretches into fingerless gloves. With a little Ironworker finesse, she can quickly spread the metal of a bracer into a small shield, or a larger one by bringing her forearms together. It doesn’t end there—Vana keeps metal on her wherever possible. Tucked into her boots, pins in her trousers, buckles on her vest, the ornaments in her hair; she refuses to be without a weapon if necessary. On that topic, she keeps at least one pre-formed set of brass knuckles on her at all times. She prefers not to fight, but she’s been helpless before, and doesn’t want to be there again. DEMEANOR— For her size and obvious strength, Vanahara is surprisingly quiet. She’s not unfriendly, but reserved, more willing to listen to others than talk herself. She considers every word before she says it—this slow speech and her large size combine to give the impression of stupidity, at first glance. Make no mistake, though, she’s smarter than many of her peers—she just waits before she uses it, and she never tries to show off. It can be difficult to get to know Vana, but you will never have a more loyal friend. She sticks by her friends through thick and thin, and is more than willing to stand between them and danger, and would trust them with her life. Unfortunately, no one has actually ever met one of her friends—they’re starting to doubt she has any. HISTORY— Vanahara was born in a small desert village called Sunder, the Storm always brewing on the horizon. Due to their proximity, their hostile surroundings, and their remote location, the people Vana grew up around were tough, but close-knit. Her family have been blacksmiths for generations, ever since the village sprung up and possibly before then—as such, Vana can’t ever remember the exact moment she recognized her elemental talent, as she's been around metal and tools her entire life, and can't quite pinpoint the moment it slid into supernatural ability. She had three brothers and sisters, all significantly younger than her, and it always seemed to them like she was just the perfect eldest sister. Her father was hard to please, but his praise meant everything to her with the absence of her mother; he was a devout follower of Karina and Loriot, like most of the villagers, and instilled that same sense of duty and purpose in his daughter. It seems like she’s always been bending metal to her will; when he realized she was more than just a talented smith, he said she was proud of her and sent her off to the Academy. Vana’s family is all about duty; she misses them, but she recognizes an opportunity to improve herself and the world, and she’ll do what she’s told. She hasn’t seen them in more than a decade, now—maybe soon she’ll see them again. Vana hasn’t made many friends, mainly due to her intimidating size and her quietness, but she’s not quite lonely. She's made some enemies, simply because of her skill on the dueling floor, but she's not the type to hold a grudge over anything as simple as that. She dedicated herself to learning about her abilities, and as such has become quite proficient. She’s quite talented, and controls metal almost instinctively, and she’s more than willing to follow orders—she’s a prime candidate for a military outfit, but what she really wants to do is help people with her gift, whether that's making armor for peacekeepers or going home to protect her family and her village. She wants to keep people safe, and make her father proud.
5,116	134	98	1,551	217	Whoo. They work fast. Between Alexander's flashbang, and Vanahara's efficient manhandling, Joey quickly realized his mage buddies were surprisingly ready to brawl. After taking on hordes of elementally-manifested beasts in a dangerous storm, he'd guess dispatching some roguish mages was next to nothing. Either way, he felt he wanted to get involved before they'd run out of bad guys. He blasted from his seat as Drew attacked, bounding over the table, vaulting off the fire mage, and flying towards the rogue Earthshaper. Leave it to Joey to make a target out of the biggest mook in the room. He made mental mention of the armor, and how he couldn't exactly do something like that. But, Ling's acid worked its way through the thick rock, weakening the mineral. The impact of that shot, mixed with its eroding acid, could easily provide Joey with rocky shards that he could work into an offense. With an outstretched fist, Joey crashed into the man, sending him to the ground, and leaving a small, but growing, crumbling crater in his chest armor. With a thrust and a swing, Joey extracted the shards and pebbles created from the combined efforts, and rolled away, with a series of sharp, acid-coated projectiles floating by a hand. That armor was tough, he had to admit. He knew he wouldn't be able to tear it down with his premature abilities. So instead, he cocked his head towards the seemingly element-less rogue. "So uh...you sellin' them knives, mate? I'll gladly take 'em off your hands." He quipped.	Name: Horatio "Joey" Dunst Age: 25 Gender: Male Mastery: Earthshaper Specialty: Boulder Rank: Mage Appearance: Dirty and disheveled would be among a possible series of words used to describe the boy. He's about 5'11. Tan skin on a mostly skinny figure. He’s got strong arms and legs, though. Dark brown eyes. An unkempt bush of bouncy, brunette curls sit atop his head. Dirt marks and scars go hand in hand on decorating the boy's body, naturally. A sprinkle of dark freckles are noticeable along the bridge of his nose and cheeks. His crass, cockney accent does well to meld with his street urchin appearance. Hands and feet are usually covered in wrappings or some sort. He’s almost fiercely against any form of footwear, actually. Feeling the dust and dirt kick up between his toes is a bit securing to him. His clothes could be considered rags; a short, sleeveless white shirt and thin, brown pants covered in dirt and dust. His hooded shawl could be considered the most unique article of his attire, the knee-length brown cape draping over his shoulders and fastening at his neck. A faded, blocky, zig-zagging pattern lies all along the edge of the tattered drape. Equipment: Usually, if he isn't mindlessly twirling it between his fingers, he has a six inch dagger holstered in his belt. It has a ring near the blade by the hilt, hence all the twirling. Also usually tied along his belt, is a small sack containing the assorted forms of earth he can control. Sand, stone arrowheads, and all sorts of small rocks and pebbles are in this bag. Demeanor: He's a bit of a shady figure. Can keep up in a conversation, but it would be wise to not trust all his words. He's had to lie, cheat, and steal to get to where he is today, and it's what he knows best. Friends were few and far between for the boy, yet he's managed to get by. But, he's reckless also. Foolishly so. His life experiences have made him careless towards the direction his life goes in. Along with the numerous ways he's been used; he knows of his expendable status, he just doesn't care at this point. If you can manage past those wondrous qualities, he’s quite a blast to be around. Jokes and snarks with the best of them. Unhesitant to flirt with any sort of female. History: There's been no shortage of orphans inhabiting that island the mages were pushed to so long ago. However, there were the young ones that managed to find the righteous path, to fully embrace their abilities and to fall in line with all the other budding mages at the Academy. Joey never found this path. Not immediately, anyway. His parents, whoever they were, pulled the ol’ “baby in a basket (sans basket)” routine on a human owned monastery not too far from the nearest town, but at least several fortnights away from the nearest Academy. Little Joey was left on the doorstep with nothing more than a soiled diaper with his name hastily scrawled into it. Such an occurrence was a normal routine for the place, so of course he was taken in. From there he grew up along the monks and nuns and the other assorted ragamuffins of that monastery. He was quite the quick handed troublemaker out of the kids in his age group, a mischievous little runt that was always ready to plan or play the next prank on one of his unsuspecting elders. No doubt he was the all time best at hide and seek. They were quick to give him his forty lashings whenever they found him, too. Despite this, he was always willing to lend a hand, that is, if he were getting something out of the task. At some point in his seventeenth year, he overheard news of a public execution being held in town. It was two criminals; a mage couple. Now, he’s heard many stories and comments about mages up to this point. And none of them were good ones. They’ve been called demons, savages, heathens and false prophets. How they could manipulate flame with just a flick of the wrist, snatch the light right out of the sky, and how the earth would tremble at their will. Most of the religious folk thought that they all deserve nothing shorter than burning in hell. The news of the execution practically resulted in joyous celebration among the nuns and monks of the monastery. Naturally, Joey had to go into town to check it out, he wanted to see what these so-called demons looked like! You could imagine his disappointment when he actually set eyes on the criminals once he reached the town square. They weren’t nearly as monstrous as he was thinking. Nope, instead they looked like old, tired folk, with faces and bodies covered in bruises and cuts. Lame. He looked on, disinterested. The announcement of their crimes went mostly unheard, but it was something the executioner said that really got Joey’s attention. He announced their names: Mikaela and Rohaan Dunst. “...Dunst?” Joey scoffed. It was an interesting coincidence, that he’d have the same last name as these two. As the two dropped from the gallows, and hung for all the town to see, Joey made his way back to the monastery, not giving much thought to that strange coincidence. ...That is, until he started making little rocks float by his fingertips one day. He couldn’t even tell how he was making it happen or why, but he knew he should knock it off before someone noticed and amassed a angry mob. He did pretty well at keeping it under wraps, and even felt he could suppress his newfound abilities. But, he was eighteen pushing nineteen by this point, and felt it was time to move away from the monastery. Though from there, he was so fast to fall in with the wrong crowds. Gangs, thieves, rogues, and other presumably violent ne’er-do-wells. He would do well to use his fists to find his way out of a scrap, rather than his abilities. He would skip from town to town, ever so slowly heading in the direction of the Academy. He would swipe small trinkets and currencies from oblivious tourists and unsuspecting lodgers. If he weren’t sleeping outside in the dirt, it would be in the warm bed of a maiden he’d manage to sweet talk. If he'd get lucky, some odd job would fall into his lap during his travels, maybe help move things off a freighter, or play as an extra hand in a shakedown. The more he stole from the humans, the more he began to loathe their ways. The lot of them were selfish, ignorant, and oh so dumb. He realized the hate against mages seemed mostly for no reason, and it angered him a bit. He managed to reach the Academy just a few weeks after celebrating his twenty-fifth birthday. He was surprised at how gracefully they let him in, that is, once he showed what little of his abilities he possessed. That was understandable. Living alongside the humans for so long, he could understand why it would be so hard to trust any of them. Yet, he would wonder if anyone would trust him.
5,117	134	99	1,657	181	Jonathan took a step towards the bar. He hadn't yet showed himself to the other mages; he had instead took the chance to sleep in what was a much better bunk that he was used at. However, after the ship landed in a speed that easily thumped him awake, he was to curious to just continue his slumber; he hadn't been in a city for months, and even though he was never a social person, he was unexpectedly overwhelmed by a need to survey the area, to interact again. The other mages had already left, but a guard onboard informed him of the other's heading, as well as of the Commander's oders- something he was not too content to hear, as it meant that he would have to leave his companions behind. something he had never done before. In fact, this ertain part tempted him to just stay on the ship, or maybe even disobey him and take at least one with him. He had ways of disguising them... In the end though, he decided to just agree with Hayes' orders. He was part of a team now, and if anything was to be accomplished, he would have to prove he was capable of being a team member. He would obviously prefer some more respect from those puny blood-hungry rats who simply got their hands on some covinient pieces of technology, but he could understand that his years in isolation had made him... unstable at best. Jonathan took another step towards the bar. The sign read "Well Endowed" on it- and the picture accompanying it was a similarly vulgar image, as if to inform those unable to get the point right away. Was this distasteful semblance of a chapeau really the place his companions decided to spend their time on the ground? He could expect this from Hayes and his men, but not fom fellow mages. On the other hand, the chances of inding something better in this rathole were most likely minuscule anyways. Jonathan took yet another step towards the bar. He could now hear commotion in the inside of the bar. Apparently, there were some people fighting in there. He then gasped as he heard a man... dieing?! From getting lit up on fire? What were those ignorami doing in there?! He then heard a hand slamming down on something, ang then the sound of ice breaking, and a person falling on the floor violently. He felt rage build up in him for the man's death. He could not just let things die out. Jonathan took a last step towards the bar, and opened the doors with the greatest thump his arms could provide. He then stared tersely at the site of the brawl, admitedly not knowing which mage was his and which was not, even though he did manage to recognise Master Alexander of all people -a wise and capable man he was always happy to be communing with-, Commander Hayes, and a girl he deifnetely knew from somewhere; the last one also seemed to be the one who threw another woman on the floor. "Excuse me" he said in a loud, and yet calm and stern voice, "could someone explain to me the cause of this distubance in this bar?" His eyes were now shining in tempered fury, in a cold mettalic glow similar to the devices atached to his necklase and belt. He pulled two of them out of his clothes, also revealing the rest of them. "And judging from the charred body on the corner, I advise you to pray to the Gods you hold dear that I find your excuse satisfying."	Name: Nataly Andrade Age: 26 Gender: Female Mastery: Hydromancer Specialty: Blizzard Rank: Adept Nataly is 5'7" and is a slight 116 lbs. Her northern roots show in her pale skin, contrasting with ice blue hair. The hair is cut short, left at about shoulder length and her have bangs bound with purple bands. She has eyes are deeper blue than her hair, and what could be considered a "cute" complexion. People are surprised by Nataly's slender frame because her robes are huge. They billow out from the sides and are bulky with fluff to protect from the cold that she conjures. Contrary to her skills, underneath the robes she dresses rather revealingly, to help deal with the heat of the southern lands the Academy sit on (relatively speaking). She has a pendant with a cut piece of blue amber on it that she'll often pull out to help her focus when conjuring up her icy magics. Equipment: Why carry weapons when concealable and untraceable ones can be crafted out of ice? Demeanor: Nataly has been rather bubbly as of late. The prospect of finally getting promoted from Adept to Weaver has lifted her spirits in recent months, and has seen a surge in her production in classes as well as her kindness towards her fellow Hydros. You do not want to get on her bad side though. If ever wronged in any way, it's not possible for Nataly to just let it go. History: The Andrades welcomed young Nataly into the family during a nasty blizzard in the Far Northern town of Cartaquilla, which serves as the main port for the Kingdom of Gran Helada. That might have served as a premonition for Nataly's future, but blizzards were a regular facet of life in the frozen lands. For Falco, a fisherman by trade, and Yoreli, a stay-at-home mother, the first daughter in the family after three boys was a welcome change and they doted the young girl from the moment she was placed in the buffered crib. The first sign that Nataly might be special in more ways than one manifested when she was eleven. Yoreli opened the door to Nataly's room one morning to find the girl playing in a layer of snow, a icy replica of her brother Jaime standing guard as she made snow angels. Yoreli scolded the child for leaving the window open and letting all the snow in but the window was closed, revealing the sunny day that Cartaquilla had been blessed with. As Yoreli looked up she could see the sprinkles of snowflakes falling from the ceiling, then dropped down to her daughter, still happily waving her arms without a care in the world. This revelation was met with fear and seclusion for Nataly, as Yoreli did her best to hide the witchcraft her daughter perpetrated. Falco paid no mind, usually out on trawling expeditions but Yoreli kept Nataly's powers a secret from her husband and he maintained a loving bond with his child. However, the snow that Nataly so willingly embraced would prove to be her father's downfall. Twelve hours after he left Cartaquilla on a day hunt for crab, one of the worst blizzards in a century struck. It paralyzed the region and trapped all seabound ships for days while the ice raged on. Worry grew with each passing day, and the prospect of Falco returning was fading. It got to the point that on the third day, Yoreli came out into the snow, searching for her sixteen year old daughter only to find Nataly standing in her pyjamas, tears frozen to her face, desperately trying to bend the snow away to open a path for her father to come back. She failed. Without Falco, Yoreli tried to look for other paths to taking care of her children. She learned about the Academy for people with Nataly's talents, so the girl was sent packing at age 17 for the far south. Nataly was slow to progress off the bat. She still was upset about her father and did not want to conjure up the substance that took him away in her mind, but eventually the icy walls tumbled down and she was starting to get the hang of controlling her gifts. She finally passed her Adept exam at 23, and has been working hard to try and progress up the ranks. Nataly wants to get to the point where she could control the snowstorms of her hometown and at least make sure other kids don't have to lose their parents like she did.
5,118	134	100	2,579	89	As the ice mage was slammed into the table, the fire mage turned their head away from the light, only to be struck by a quickly falling piece of ice that shattered against them. While it would sting, it only encouraged the firey mage to get back into the fight with a passion and while the ice companion was a small concern, the one who was working to compromise her armor was bigger, and a jet of flame lanced out and Vana ducked behind the table. The jet stream of flame was then turned towards the other mages, quickly scorching the table to start aflame itself. "BURRRRNNN!!" With the sudden impact to the table, the ice mage stumbled back when she was released, doing her best to reseal her armor that had been so quickly compromised in the surprise assault. She was in little condition to mount an assault against the mages again, but did quickly work to reseal the armor itself, bringing it back to its stone solid shine as she backed away from the table now on fire. One hand to her head and the other resealing the armor, she was working to get back to killing those who had humiliated her. The stone mage rose back up, obviously displeased with how everything had transpired, and now sought to correct the problem. First, he had to take care of the other rock hovering problem that seemed intent on tampering with their efforts. He also did not appreciate being completely ignored after part of his armor was ripped away. "Maybe you should learn to not tamper with what isn't yours. Don't worry, I'll teach both you and your vial throwing friend! FUCKIN' CATCH!" A stone the size of a fist was thrown at Joey, and then the earth man turned and launched a second at Ling. He was displeased with the armor that he now was reshaping, but slightly less thick overall. The man with knives was going to take the distraction Joey now had...only to have a problem with the freshly revealed Jonathan stepping into the bar. With an agitated sigh, he grabbed the bag of gems and gave a small chuckle at the metal mage who seemed to plan on establishing authority. "Shut up." Neatly unnoticed, a shadow of the man with knives stepped forward and slammed a fist into Jonathan. With the problem now distracted by the shadow now drawing the knives it had on itself, the nightshade made hastily for the door. Raven had gotten from his seat, and had quickly decided that attempting to run at the now flamethrower mage would be better handled with a bit of tact. Grabbing the chair he had been sitting on, he flung it at the pyromancer who now had to pause to at least do their best to deflect the chair. The distraction alone gave Raven the time to bring out his sword, and get away from the burning table. He might not be a mage, but that didn't mean a sword in hand made him useless. As all this happened, the rest of the bar decided to get as far away as possible from the mages now burning the bar, or throwing explosive vials, or flashing dazzling light, and now commanding shadows to fight for them. Taking to jumping out windows, going to the back of the bar, or running for the entrance now that the man of stone was no longer there, and the man with the knives seemed to show no intention of stopping them.	The vagueness isn't a bad problem, but there are two concerns, both a bit related to one another. Her age and her rank. Age comes into play because she is the youngest Weaver by a couple years, which wouldn't be the worst of problems except it seems that her metal abilities showed up later when working as a blacksmith. Since we already have 3 Weavers who are supposed to be in play, I am a little hesitant to take on a vague 4th. If you would be OK just dropping to Adept or Mage that would solve the age problem pretty easily. Otherwise, it reads alright other than that, so if you would make a decision regarding that I think it would be all set! Congrats on the dog hunt, and happy to hear you got them back.
5,119	134	101	1,032	421	Jonathan passively accepted the fist thrown at him from the shadow that popped out of nowhere. The fist landed cleanly on his right cheek, with a loud smack, but Jonathan barely flinched. In fact, he wore a small smirk at the laughable attempt to take him by surprise -he did not seriously expect him to see a man participating in a raid with what seemed like very experienced Elementals with nothing but two knives and not have similar skills himself, did he? His metal robe was now also glowing, and he could feel part of its let shoulder mophing towards his left hand, slowly forming the metal gauntlet that would allow him to operate his gadgets. He noticed the bar's attendants leaving en masse from the building in every exit they could find avalaible while the shadow pulled out its knives at he exact moment his gauntlet was finished. Even though he approved of the civilians evacuating, the cover they prvided to the Nightshade fleeing with them was a major problem. He did have a non-lethal way of stopping him, but it could still endanger and incapacipate the masses rushing towards the door. Still, he had to act fast. And his course of action was to throw a left punch towards the shadow; an unsucessful one, in fact, as the shadow was quick to react in a backward head tilt that got him to partially lose his balance -just as he had planned it on doing. Using his conserved momentum, and not worrying about the distacted shadow fighter, he stepped firmly with his left foot, stopping his roll, and at the last moment of his swing, he threw the device he was holding -a small spherical object with six sealed holes on it designed to be a flash grenade- towards the Nightshade, trying to be as precise as his worn-out eyesight would allow him. The flash was mainly supposed to daze others and cut connections betwen Shadows, but he would prefer if no civilian was deafened or burned from being too close- secondary side-effects of the powder that he had never before found necessary to remove.	NAME— Vanahara Pike AGE— 23 GENDER— Female MASTERY— Metallic SPECIALTY— Ironworker RANK— Adept APPEARANCE— EQUIPMENT— Vanahara is practical in every way. She wears a tool belt whenever possible, and keeps some in her pocket if she can’t—she has pouches for random scraps of metal, wires, and bolts, some small blacksmithing tools—but the main part of the belt is entirely metal. She also wears iron bracers that stretch from wrist to elbow, with a leather lining that stretches into fingerless gloves. With a little Ironworker finesse, she can quickly spread the metal of a bracer into a small shield, or a larger one by bringing her forearms together. It doesn’t end there—Vana keeps metal on her wherever possible. Tucked into her boots, pins in her trousers, buckles on her vest, the ornaments in her hair; she refuses to be without a weapon if necessary. On that topic, she keeps at least one pre-formed set of brass knuckles on her at all times. She prefers not to fight, but she’s been helpless before, and doesn’t want to be there again. DEMEANOR— For her size and obvious strength, Vanahara is surprisingly quiet. She’s not unfriendly, but reserved, more willing to listen to others than talk herself. She considers every word before she says it—this slow speech and her large size combine to give the impression of stupidity, at first glance. Make no mistake, though, she’s smarter than many of her peers—she just waits before she uses it, and she never tries to show off. It can be difficult to get to know Vana, but you will never have a more loyal friend. She sticks by her friends through thick and thin, and is more than willing to stand between them and danger, and would trust them with her life. Unfortunately, no one has actually ever met one of her friends—they’re starting to doubt she has any. HISTORY— Vanahara was born in a small desert village called Sunder, the Storm always brewing on the horizon. Due to their proximity, their hostile surroundings, and their remote location, the people Vana grew up around were tough, but close-knit. Her family have been blacksmiths for generations, ever since the village sprung up and possibly before then—as such, Vana can’t ever remember the exact moment she recognized her elemental talent, as she's been around metal and tools her entire life, and can't quite pinpoint the moment it slid into supernatural ability. She had three brothers and sisters, all significantly younger than her, and it always seemed to them like she was just the perfect eldest sister. Her father was hard to please, but his praise meant everything to her with the absence of her mother; he was a devout follower of Karina and Loriot, like most of the villagers, and instilled that same sense of duty and purpose in his daughter. It seems like she’s always been bending metal to her will; when he realized she was more than just a talented smith, he said she was proud of her and sent her off to the Academy. Vana’s family is all about duty; she misses them, but she recognizes an opportunity to improve herself and the world, and she’ll do what she’s told. She hasn’t seen them in more than a decade, now—maybe soon she’ll see them again. Vana hasn’t made many friends, mainly due to her intimidating size and her quietness, but she’s not quite lonely. She's made some enemies, simply because of her skill on the dueling floor, but she's not the type to hold a grudge over anything as simple as that. She dedicated herself to learning about her abilities, and as such has become quite proficient. She’s quite talented, and controls metal almost instinctively, and she’s more than willing to follow orders—she’s a prime candidate for a military outfit, but what she really wants to do is help people with her gift, whether that's making armor for peacekeepers or going home to protect her family and her village. She wants to keep people safe, and make her father proud.
5,120	134	102	1,551	217	FUCKIN' CATCH! Initially, Joey thought "Yeh, she is a catch, inn'she?" in regards to the crossbow clad mage, before realizing the Earthshaper was actually telegraphing an attack. So naturally, as the big ol' chunk'a rock came hurtling towards him, our ravishing rogue put his hands up to catch it, deflect it, or at least make the impact hurt less. He was quick enough to get his hands up, at least, couldn't do anything about the rock though. He tried pushing it away as it flew through the air, and he could feel the opponent's forces pushing back. Much, much stronger than he would've expected. So, he did the next best thing: sidestepping. This attempt for naught, however. Even as he began to move, the dodge was cut short as the rock slammed into his right shoulder. "HHhk-!" He stumbled off kilter, the shoulder and arm wracked with pain. Sensations he was trying to ignore up to this point, were now at the front of his mind. "Agh, ya bint! Just got this arm fixed a few hours ago!" Joey cried over the roar of the crowd. Turning focus away from his opponent for just a second, he took note of the heat slowly growing nearby, as a table was lit on fire (of course it was, it was natural progression) and was currently being tossed away. "Nightshade's getting away!" He could hear, and without a doubt, Joey quickly noticed the hooded figure making for the door. "Guess i'm gonna hafta work a lil' faster if I want those wicked knives." He turned his attention back towards the bulky Earthshaper. "Fine then." He took off towards his target, flashing his steel in his free hand. "Imma dominant lefty anyways!" He pounced once more. With a swipe of his left arm, the shards in his possession were sent back to their owner with extreme prejudice, mostly towards the man's facial region. He was sure they would barely distract him, but he planned on following up with his dagger, and hoping for the best.	Name: Horatio "Joey" Dunst Age: 25 Gender: Male Mastery: Earthshaper Specialty: Boulder Rank: Mage Appearance: Dirty and disheveled would be among a possible series of words used to describe the boy. He's about 5'11. Tan skin on a mostly skinny figure. He’s got strong arms and legs, though. Dark brown eyes. An unkempt bush of bouncy, brunette curls sit atop his head. Dirt marks and scars go hand in hand on decorating the boy's body, naturally. A sprinkle of dark freckles are noticeable along the bridge of his nose and cheeks. His crass, cockney accent does well to meld with his street urchin appearance. Hands and feet are usually covered in wrappings or some sort. He’s almost fiercely against any form of footwear, actually. Feeling the dust and dirt kick up between his toes is a bit securing to him. His clothes could be considered rags; a short, sleeveless white shirt and thin, brown pants covered in dirt and dust. His hooded shawl could be considered the most unique article of his attire, the knee-length brown cape draping over his shoulders and fastening at his neck. A faded, blocky, zig-zagging pattern lies all along the edge of the tattered drape. Equipment: Usually, if he isn't mindlessly twirling it between his fingers, he has a six inch dagger holstered in his belt. It has a ring near the blade by the hilt, hence all the twirling. Also usually tied along his belt, is a small sack containing the assorted forms of earth he can control. Sand, stone arrowheads, and all sorts of small rocks and pebbles are in this bag. Demeanor: He's a bit of a shady figure. Can keep up in a conversation, but it would be wise to not trust all his words. He's had to lie, cheat, and steal to get to where he is today, and it's what he knows best. Friends were few and far between for the boy, yet he's managed to get by. But, he's reckless also. Foolishly so. His life experiences have made him careless towards the direction his life goes in. Along with the numerous ways he's been used; he knows of his expendable status, he just doesn't care at this point. If you can manage past those wondrous qualities, he’s quite a blast to be around. Jokes and snarks with the best of them. Unhesitant to flirt with any sort of female. History: There's been no shortage of orphans inhabiting that island the mages were pushed to so long ago. However, there were the young ones that managed to find the righteous path, to fully embrace their abilities and to fall in line with all the other budding mages at the Academy. Joey never found this path. Not immediately, anyway. His parents, whoever they were, pulled the ol’ “baby in a basket (sans basket)” routine on a human owned monastery not too far from the nearest town, but at least several fortnights away from the nearest Academy. Little Joey was left on the doorstep with nothing more than a soiled diaper with his name hastily scrawled into it. Such an occurrence was a normal routine for the place, so of course he was taken in. From there he grew up along the monks and nuns and the other assorted ragamuffins of that monastery. He was quite the quick handed troublemaker out of the kids in his age group, a mischievous little runt that was always ready to plan or play the next prank on one of his unsuspecting elders. No doubt he was the all time best at hide and seek. They were quick to give him his forty lashings whenever they found him, too. Despite this, he was always willing to lend a hand, that is, if he were getting something out of the task. At some point in his seventeenth year, he overheard news of a public execution being held in town. It was two criminals; a mage couple. Now, he’s heard many stories and comments about mages up to this point. And none of them were good ones. They’ve been called demons, savages, heathens and false prophets. How they could manipulate flame with just a flick of the wrist, snatch the light right out of the sky, and how the earth would tremble at their will. Most of the religious folk thought that they all deserve nothing shorter than burning in hell. The news of the execution practically resulted in joyous celebration among the nuns and monks of the monastery. Naturally, Joey had to go into town to check it out, he wanted to see what these so-called demons looked like! You could imagine his disappointment when he actually set eyes on the criminals once he reached the town square. They weren’t nearly as monstrous as he was thinking. Nope, instead they looked like old, tired folk, with faces and bodies covered in bruises and cuts. Lame. He looked on, disinterested. The announcement of their crimes went mostly unheard, but it was something the executioner said that really got Joey’s attention. He announced their names: Mikaela and Rohaan Dunst. “...Dunst?” Joey scoffed. It was an interesting coincidence, that he’d have the same last name as these two. As the two dropped from the gallows, and hung for all the town to see, Joey made his way back to the monastery, not giving much thought to that strange coincidence. ...That is, until he started making little rocks float by his fingertips one day. He couldn’t even tell how he was making it happen or why, but he knew he should knock it off before someone noticed and amassed a angry mob. He did pretty well at keeping it under wraps, and even felt he could suppress his newfound abilities. But, he was eighteen pushing nineteen by this point, and felt it was time to move away from the monastery. Though from there, he was so fast to fall in with the wrong crowds. Gangs, thieves, rogues, and other presumably violent ne’er-do-wells. He would do well to use his fists to find his way out of a scrap, rather than his abilities. He would skip from town to town, ever so slowly heading in the direction of the Academy. He would swipe small trinkets and currencies from oblivious tourists and unsuspecting lodgers. If he weren’t sleeping outside in the dirt, it would be in the warm bed of a maiden he’d manage to sweet talk. If he'd get lucky, some odd job would fall into his lap during his travels, maybe help move things off a freighter, or play as an extra hand in a shakedown. The more he stole from the humans, the more he began to loathe their ways. The lot of them were selfish, ignorant, and oh so dumb. He realized the hate against mages seemed mostly for no reason, and it angered him a bit. He managed to reach the Academy just a few weeks after celebrating his twenty-fifth birthday. He was surprised at how gracefully they let him in, that is, once he showed what little of his abilities he possessed. That was understandable. Living alongside the humans for so long, he could understand why it would be so hard to trust any of them. Yet, he would wonder if anyone would trust him.
5,121	134	103	2,700	181	Don't worry, I'll teach both you and your vial throwing friend! FUCKIN' CATCH! "Son of a black dragon..." Ling did the only thing she could think of to avoid taking a stone salvo to the face. She ducked and threw up one hand to cover her face... then the table erupted in flames. Because of course it did. The renegade Pyro was in her element, projecting a stream of fire that threatened to burn down the whole bar if she was allowed to persist. It didn't look like either side was going to come out of this fight unscathed. With the Earthshaper's attack having missed her head by an inch, Ling stood up and fired a shot his way. The bolt punched into his stone armour, but didn't seem to have much of an impact beyond very minor cracking. She quickly disregarded the idea of attacking him further. By this point Vanahara had thrown the table - an impressive feat in itself - and tackled the ice mage. A fair few others seemed to be engaging that one in particular, and Commander Hayes was about to close in on the Pyro... "Nightshade's getting away!" The call came from Vanahara. As much as Joey might appear to be struggling against his counterpart, the fact remained that the rogue carrying the valuables was on the run. "I'm on it! He can't outrun a crossbow!" Ling reloaded Kei, checking the autoquiver's contents through a small gap in its design - eleven bolts, including the loaded one - and ran for the door, passing the last of the stragglers as she made her way into the open, glancing around before she spotted the glint of a fallen jewel in the road. And beyond that, the hastily fleeing thief. She didn't bother with yelling at him to stop, as that would just waste time and alert him to her presence: instead, she took a second to aim, then fired, reloaded, and began to repeat the exercise.	Name: Ling the Silver Vial Age: 24 Gender: Female Mastery: Nightshade Specialty: Alchemist Rank: Adept Appearance: As Ling originates from the Dragon Empire of the eastern plains, she is Imperial in appearance and stature; she stands at five feet seven inches tall and is notably lightweight. Her black hair is always tied back in a short ponytail; no sense in letting it get everywhere. She has brown eyes, almost always behind protective glasses out of habit. Ling can usually be found wearing black pants and a simple black-and-white tunic with long sleeves (which are rolled up when working). Her tunics bear her personal emblem in silver thread: a potion vial with an Imperial dragon curled around it. When travelling, Ling will often don a wide straw hat and a pack to hold textbooks, journals, and similar bulky items. She supplements her outfit with a belt of pouches to hold potion ingredients and the tools to work them, and two sets of leather straps. The first is fitted with loops and pockets to hold potion vials, plus a sheath to hold a silver knife. The second keeps her weapon of choice secured on her back. Equipment: Aside from a bag of Imperial silver, her usual supplies of potion ingredients, and the tools a travelling Alchemist would normally need, Ling carries a custom-made crossbow and four rectangular boxes of bolts called autoquivers. The crossbow has several modifications from the standard model: its arms can fold inward for ease of transport; a lever on the side, when pulled, draws the string back without the need for extensive strength; and the stock's space for ammunition is twice the width of a standard crossbow. This last feature allows Ling to fire either standard-issue bolts from a fitted autoquiver, or potion vials that explode on impact, scattering their contents across a patch of land or group of opponents - or allies. Ling had her crossbow - which she fondly nicknames "Kei" - and its autoquivers custom-built for her purposes. Each autoquiver holds fifteen bolts, and bolts can be replaced at any blacksmith. One of her autoquivers is marked with a skull and crossbones, the classic indicator of poison, indicating she has applied poison to each bolt in that pack. Demeanour: Some paint the Nightshades as sullen, selfish individuals who seek only a means to achieve their own ends. Ling is almost the exact opposite. She's cheery and outgoing, willing to help others in a situation even if there's no up-front benefit to her. In this sense she might be considered a tiny bit naive. She does, however, have a particular devotion to her alchemy; while working, she enters a state of focus in which nothing outside of the immediate area matters until her task is complete. There's no sense in leaving a potion of any kind half-finished; as a result, Ling ensures she has everything in order before she starts work. Ling also makes a point of keeping notes on all of her standard-issue potions and experiments. She finds the latter much more interesting than the former: there's no sense of discovery in copying the methods used by the textbooks. She has already filled several journals with these notes, in addition to memorising all of the more commonly made recipes (some of which have her own unique spin on them). Despite being of the Nightshade mastery, Ling shies away from Sitheria, God of Darkness. Instead, she favours two others of the Council: Alainia, God of Water; and Loriot, God of Fire. Ling believes that Alainia and Loriot, while opposed in their Elements and her own, are the closest to Alchemy at its core. History: The Dragon Empire is a fascinating culture. There, the long, snakelike Imperial dragons are revered in almost any art form you would care to mention. Statuary, paintings, the written word, even architecture. Little is seen of the majestic creatures, as they are often hostile to human life and civilisation, yet at the same time the Empire reveres the dragons for their grace and beauty. Of course, Ling knows nothing of the Empire firsthand, as she was shipped overseas to another Academy at the age of three, when she was tested for magical potential like all Imperial children. There is no Academy in the Dragon Empire: in the year 73 AW, after the destruction of the first Imperial Academy - whether as a result of a spell gone awry or a deliberate act of arson was never found out - Emperor Jutai Fallen Leaf declared that his lands would play host to no mage. To this day, all Imperial children are tested for magical power at an early age. Those that show the signs are shipped elsewhere, and may apply for Imperial citizenship at the age of nineteen despite being confined to Academy life. The young Ling was part of a group of fifteen Imperial children sent to the Academy, filtered into the Nightshade mastery with two others. Her grasp on shadow magic was limited, while the other young Nightshades reveled in their new-found power. But she persisted, not wishing to fall behind. Eventually, at the age of twelve, the path of the Alchemist was opened to her, and she threw herself into it. Ling found alchemy intriguing; the chemical transmutation of simple, disparate ingredients into a greater, more powerful whole. She didn't care that the Masters had chosen to wait to see whether her skills would develop. This was where she would thrive, she told herself, pushing her limits on a regular basis. She caught up to her fellow students, those the same age who had chosen their paths before her, within six months, and didn't stop there. During her later teenage years, Ling volunteered for journeys outside the Academy. Whether the gathering of unusual ingredients that couldn't be found in the Academy's gardens, eliminating a group of bandits before they could attack a nearby town, or just providing an escort for a trip for younger mages, she wanted in on them. She wanted to see what life was like outside the walls. While she has never visited the Dragon Empire on one of these journeys - it is a long way - she studied the region and its culture during this time. At the age of eighteen, she accompanied a caravan of supplies leaving the Academy for the purposes of trade. She supported the caravan's guards for most of the trip there and back, fending off unwanted company. But while they fought with magical prowess, she hurled vials and passed restoratives to those who needed them. On the way back to the Academy, she ran out of potions, having only prepared a dozen beforehand. It was only after documenting her experiences that Ling realised that potions and poisons simply weren't enough to be properly supportive. She had to be able to cause some effective damage herself; otherwise, she was just another body the caravan guards needed to protect. So she began researching means of expanding upon the simple act of throwing potion vials to cause harm. There was a recent innovation in throwing short spears from a Metallic kid, that she jumped on and experimented with. While the technique was certainly effective for the javelin, it was almost useless for throwing potions. Too inaccurate without a proper guidance system. And then came the brainwave. A crossbow, modified ever so slightly to accept the small vials she used frequently. Ling, still at the rank of Mage at this time, went to a Metallic Weaver with a bag of coins in one hand and her notes in the other. The Weaver and the Mage spent the next few weeks on her customised weapon, ranging from sourcing the required materials to Ling providing several potion-related favours. But after a month of work, the crossbow was finally finished, and with a few extra modifications for ease of use. Calibrated perfectly for the throwing of vials with just enough force to catapult them a good distance, but not enough to shatter them when she pulled the trigger. As a bonus gift, the customised weapon, which Ling named "Kei", came with a set of long box-shaped containers of crossbow bolts, to be fitted atop the weapon. Submissions of high-strength potions for examination, as well as a short written paper on her vial-launching crossbow, earned Ling the rank of Adept soon after she turned nineteen. And with this promotion came her choice of title: she became Ling the Silver Vial. Surnames are uncommon in the Dragon Empire: instead, titles chosen by the individual are the norm. Whether a title comes before or after the given name is up to the individual, but a title will always have some reflection of the person choosing it. To give examples, an adventurer might call himself "Explorer Lun", while a Metallic Elemental might refer to himself as "Shang the Steel Hand". An Imperial citizen will usually choose his or her title at the age of nineteen, when Imperial law deems them a legal adult. But now that she had passed the first of her trials, Ling had even more work to do. So she got stuck into it, working late into the night to complete her projects and supplementing her midnight studies with restorative draughts to keep her awake and focused. It was here that shadow magic began to play a part in Ling's studies once more: the art of drawing a fragment of one's own shadow into a bottle to serve as an ingredient called an umbral reagent. A grasp on this particular alchemical discipline eluded Ling for several years, to the point where she began to experiment, finishing the textbook's recipes without the regents. Every one of them blew up in her laboratory. Without the use of umbral reagents, the Adept-tier recipes were unstable; they needed the refining qualities of the reagents to blend components that - as Ling learned the hard way - reacted badly to one another. Ling saw this only as another obstacle. She pushed herself harder, driving herself to find a way to either follow the textbook's methods, or create an alternative to the use of umbral reagents. She asked Weavers and historians, gathered the most odd or unusual of components, all in the name of solving this problem. Three years after becoming an Adept, she knew every Adept recipe back to front, but had little practical experience because she still struggled to bottle a tiny piece of her own shadow. But no matter what she tried, her experiments resulted in wasted efforts, not even acidic enough for throwing at something. Frustrated, Ling stormed out of the Academy with Kei on her back. She hitched a ride with a caravan to one of the nearby cities, seeking something - anything - she hadn't used yet. There was nothing. So, having spent the day searching with no result except a box of vials from a glassblower and a pack of crossbow bolts from the blacksmith - each traded for a trio of Ling's homebrew all-nighter tonics - she settled into a seat in the caravan with a profound sense of having wasted her time. Halfway back to the Academy, the caravan was ambushed. "You alright there, miss Ling? You're looking like a bee got under your hat." "I'm fine. Just keeping an eye on the road." Ling's response was terse and quiet. As always when travelling, she had Kei in her hands, an autoquiver in place. It was better to be safe than sorry, she reasoned, especially since she was the only mage on this trip. The caravan rounded a corner in the road, to find the path blocked by a makeshift barricade: logs, hastily jammed into place to hinder passage. The driver spat over the side. "Sons of... we've got company." Almost instantly, Ling was on her feet, her weapon up and aimed. Four bandits leaped from their hiding places, an assortment of weapons in hand. "Get behind me," was Ling's command to the driver before she pointed Kei at the closest of the ragtag bunch. "I am Ling the Silver Vial. If you have even a scrap of self-preservation, you will dismantle this barricade and allow us to pass." The lead bandit just chuckled. "Yer pretty words dun mean nuthin, girlie. Drop the weapon." "Oh, you want simpler words? Fine. The bolt in my crossbow is poisoned. One cut is all it takes." It was a bluff, but a carefully crafted one. The man flinched, but recovered his composure. "There's six of us an' one of you. Y'can't take us all on." Too dumb to count. Not worth the effort of negotiations. Ling pulled the trigger. The bolt hit him straight in the chest, like she'd trained. She didn't even watch the man fall, instead yanking on Kei's reset switch to reload before putting another shot into the second bandit. One of the outlaws tried to rush for the horse pulling the caravan; if they couldn't take the whole thing, they could at least cripple it, preventing it from moving. Out flashed a thrown vial, shattering on contact and dousing the rogue in acidic fluid. He flailed away from the caravan, screaming as the poison ate at his face. An arrow, crudely made, punched through the side of the caravan. Ling looked up to find the last bandit standing on a thick branch, carrying a bow and quiver. The second shot grazed the back of her hand; it was Ling's turn to flinch as she felt blood seep out from her skin. But she raised Kei and launched a series of bolts upward, peppering the archer's perch and knocking him out of his vantage point. He was dead before he hit the ground. And just like that, it was over. The one that Ling had hit with the acidic vial remained only in cries, as he had dashed away to find water. Ling spun to the inside of the caravan. "Is everyone all right?" The caravan master, two young boys and a lady in a sunhat were hiding, trying to make themselves as small as possible. Breathing slowly to calm herself, Ling collapsed Kei's arms and stowed the crossbow on her back, hands open to show she meant no harm. Even an Alchemist was still a mage. "It's okay, they're gone. The fighting's over." "A-Are you sure, miss?" "Positive." "If you're certain... hell's gates, miss Ling, you did quite the number on them," the caravan master murmured as he peered out at the scene. He jumped down to check on the horse, which was skittish and restless. "I didn't hit him with the vial, did I?" she queried. "No, no, he seems fine." "Oh, good. Last thing we needed was a panicked horse." "Last thing we needed was this damn ambush. If'n you can give a hand with getting these logs out the way, that'd be aces. C'mon, boys, time to earn your keep." The man beckoned to the two lads in the caravan, who jumped out and hurried to help him with the barricade. Ling hesitated, however, taking the time to examine her hand, which had taken a glancing blow. There was no sign of poison affecting the area, which was always a good sign. However, as she raised her hand to study it in the light, the entire injury turned solid grey, even the thin trail of blood. Ling dabbed at the viscous liquid with one finger; it remained the same grey-black colour. Ling could feel the presence of her shadow magic, stronger than ever. Inspired, she hurried to her space in the caravan, drew a vial from its box and collected the shed blood within. The glass and its contents seemed to glow in her hand. Reagent magic will become easier over time as you get used to touching your shadow. Ordinarily an intangible presence, the spell twists your shadow's properties, changing it, allowing you to gather it in your hand as you would do with mundane water. When the preparation stage is complete, pour a handful into a vial and allow it to sit for a few minutes until it turns darker and thicker, similar to blood. The paragraph on umbral reagents came to Ling's mind easily. The vial's contents were almost an exact match to the accompanying sketch. But she hadn't done as the textbook prescribed. It was almost involuntary, like her shadow magic was called to the spilled blood, mixing of its own accord. Ling bested the bandits easily, thanks to Kei and an acidic vial. When the trip was concluded and Ling was safe in her laboratory, she drew out a vial of blood she had collected after the fight and examined it. It bore all the physical signs of an umbral reagent, as described in her textbooks, but there was only one way to be sure it had the alchemical properties of one. Ling quickly prepared an introductory Adept potion for regeneration of injuries. Two bright red flasks, whipped up within minutes... all that remained was to blend the two together in the same flask as the reagent, according to the book. So she tipped her vial of infused blood into a flask, lit a fire beneath it, and tentatively poured the other two in with the grey, holding her breath all the while. The three liquids began to bubble and merge, aided by Ling's tentative stirring, then the potion turned a bold, dark red, unlike the two from a minute before. No explosion. No shattering of glass. Ling had found the key, her way to progress as an Adept. Her first priority, however, was to inform the Masters, to ensure she wasn't breaking any rules or wouldn't accidentally poison anyone with her blood-fueled potions. The ensuing discussion was intense, thorough, and more than a little scary; she was called on to repeat the creation under a Master's scrutiny. She managed it, though, and didn't poison him in the process. That was always good; there was often a chance that a healing potion, even one made to the letter, could turn out to be lethal. And since she was dealing with previously uncharted territory, anything could happen. But nothing did. The shadow-infused blood acted in the exact same manner as an ordinary umbral reagent. After another hour of talks with the Masters, Ling was cleared to continue her work in this unusual fashion. And continue she did. She took to carrying a knife to draw her own blood for her reagents. Coaxing shadow magic into the shed blood quickly became easier, aided by restoratives and regeneration potions, but she couldn't draw too much too quickly or she would have to wait even longer to resume her work. She depended on being in some degree of physical fitness, to ensure she could heal quickly from the cuts she inflicted on herself. Thankfully, any scars she might have gathered were quickly healed by her own creations. And occasionally an Illuminate healer, in the first stages of her experiments when she cut too deep and caused more pain than she had intended. After several years of further study, Ling is slowly working her way through her textbooks. She still relies on drawing blood to produce her reagents instead of just drawing scraps of shadow directly. While she understands the Masters' concern for her variation on the core practices, she still feels a tiny bit held back by their observations. Her method is unusual, but just as effective as the standard procedure. But she brushes it off, and tries to be her usual bright and cheery self; the Masters do what they do for a reason.
5,122	134	104	1,607	80	Alexander had ducked behind the table when the bolt of flame had come their way. 'Well, that needs to stop. Sooner rather than later.' He thought before the table was flipped and the younger students launched their attacks. Seeing that the fire mage was still focused on them he decided to use that to his advantage. When the table was flipped he stood and charged, using a very bright light shined directly at the fire mage's eyes to provide a temporary distraction. The light was a floating orb that would hopefully mean that any wild strikes would only singe him rather than burn him alive. It was only a few second before he had dashed across the bar, this was not his first fight with an armored opponent. Even the lightest armor always lead to a bit of slow down if you expected it to stop arrows. More so if you wanted it to stop a sword or an axe from cutting you open. However lighter armor left you largely unprotected in more vital areas, and he had plenty of first hand experience with hand to hand attacks. More than once a drunken person in various level of armor had decided the healer must either be exceedingly wealthy or in need of a new missing tooth or ruptured organ. He had needed to learn to fight, and he had studied hard in this craft as well. Upon reaching the fire mage a targeted punch landed in their throat, another tactic of distraction while also causing damage. Using the momentum he had gained he grabbed her wrist and flipped her onto her front. Placing a foot on her back to keep her from immediately pushing herself up he pulled the arm from its socket. A fire mage with use of only one arm was better than one with two. However he still kept hold of her wrist even as he did his best to prepare for the counter attack. "Please stay down. I would hate to break your arms."	Name: Drew Hidalgo Age: 27 Gender: Male Mastery: Hydromancer Specialty: Storms Rank: Adept Appearance: Drew is tall, but he tends to slouch or hunch over, so he appears to be average height. He wears a simple light grey robe with a hood (though he hardly wears the hood). He has pale skin, medium-length brown hair, a constant 5 o’clock shadow that he can’t seem to get rid of or get to grow further, and green eyes that tend to be half-closed all the time. Between the slumping and the closed eyes, Drew constantly looks like he’s asleep. Equipment: nothing beyond the essentials. Demeanor: Not terribly sociable, but not a brooding loner. He’ll stay with groups and chime in occasionally, but he usually just sits back and listens. Willing to let others know what he thinks, but he does try to have some tact about it. Has an odd distrust of Nightshades. Hard to earn his trust, but he’ll trust you almost unconditionally once you earn it. History: Compared to most, some would say Drew’s upbringing was dull. He was born to parents who were well off, even if they weren't actually wealthy. His powers manifested at the earliest point possible and his parents sent him off to the academy with little complications. They were very supportive and tried to stay in contact with him whenever they could, though their jobs as nomadic merchants meant they had much to deal with. Drew would discover he had a talent for some of the more niche parts of the path of the Storm, though the basics of the Hydromancer were harder for him to grasp. Though he had trouble making water solid and even making great quantities of liquid, he was very skilled at manipulating vapors, forming mists and clouds and even generating and controlling the element of lightning. He could still make rain and make liquid from gas, but his expertise was in the winds, not the waters. Time would pass and he’d do above average in his classes. He wasn’t a social butterfly, but he wasn’t a pariah either. He made friends and even had a few relationships, but they all just seemed to drift away over time, and neither side really strove to maintain contact. He became just another face in the crowd, the guy who sat at the back of the classrooms and sat around his living quarters quietly. The one constant companion he had was his little sister, Fei, who was discovered to be an elemental years after Drew was enrolled. She looked up to him and thinks of him as the smartest, coolest mage in the academy (especially because of his skills making lightning). Drew never tried to impress anyone at the academy, never giving in to any dares or listening to the instructor’s wishes for him to better himself or “live up to his true potential”. He does well in his classes, had his specialties, so he thought that was enough. But deep down, he does try to be the mage his sister sees him as. It’s why he finally got the motivation to finally try and get himself promoted to weaver (he was considered, and good words were said, but he was ultimately rejected) and why he’s going on this journey.
5,123	134	105	2,579	89	As the flashbang flew towards the crowd of people and the Nightshade now shoving his way out of the door, the flash temporarily dazed and caused screams and more panic about the door as some caught the full brunt of the blast. The Nightshade, unfortunately, was not one of those to catch the problematic effect as people panicking to get away had knocked the weapon away from them. The blast had some effect on the crowd, but the fighters were all left relatively untouched unless they stared into the door. The shadow that had been left behind decided the metal mage was causing more trouble than they were worth. With a quick few swings of the shadowy daggers, the metal mage took a few quick cuts as he had been instead focused on stopping the fleeing Nightshade who now was making his way outside with Ling in pursuit with the crossbow. As Vana had jumped on the ice mage, there was a close struggle as the metallic mage and the armored ice mage tangled. While the ice mage was slightly dazed from the sudden physical contact, her expression changed when the armor she wore turned into more of a watery mess, soaking Vana as well. Working quickly, Vana was suddenly finding herself either being weighted down or otherwise in some small spots very frozen as the water she had soaked in from the melting backfired. "Thank your boyfriend later for me." She taunted, shoving the mage off and hearing the scream of her fire companion. Thinking quickly, icy daggers were pulled from her armor and launched at Alexander to get him off the fire mage. The stone mage could be described as only amused as Joey figured the attempt to assault the face of the armor that he still held strong. As Joey jumped at the earth fighter, he quickly was grabbed, and with almost superhuman strength launched Joey towards Drew, finding the unoccupied mage to likely be the biggest problem at this point. "GIRLS WE ARE LEAVING." With a quick set of stomps, the boards under the earthshaper shattered, giving him access to the bare earth which he wasted no time pulling the earth to do some quick stone throwing with the new source. The rocks themselves were not targeted, being thrown in any direction to either distract or cause panic. The fire mage was screaming as her arm was pulled, though Alexander also had to deal with the burning that only intensified as the close combat came into play. While she was obviously downed initially, the assistance from the ice mage meant that Alexander could not just remain there with danger being tossed his way. With the grip released, the fire mage rolled away, and let the fire do similar to what the earth mage now did. Unleash fire just wherever in the hopes of causing chaos, which was MUCH more effective as more of the bar caught fire. Raven in the meantime left the fire mage to Alexander who had at least temporarily dealt with the problem, only to now have to race to the ice mage who threw daggers at the Master Illuminate. Bringing his blade to cut, he was met suddenly with an icy spear. With a growl he shoved the ice mage away with a violent shove. At least with him there the few icy daggers which flew at Alexander ceased for now, having to dedicate much more attention to Raven's interference. It also meant that Vana wasn't being actively iced over any more. This left the fire mage to simply leave trails of fire to the door as the remaining mages made their intentions clear. They were leaving, and they did not plan on leaving without leaving a distraction behind. Meanwhile, as the Nightshade began his retreat into the night, suddenly a bolt slammed into the bag he had carried on his back. "DAMMIT!" Running as fast as they could, the Nightshade did their best to sprint into the dark and try to get away from the eyesight of Ling, hoping that turning a few corners and going off into the night would be too risky for the crossbow mage to follow.	The vagueness isn't a bad problem, but there are two concerns, both a bit related to one another. Her age and her rank. Age comes into play because she is the youngest Weaver by a couple years, which wouldn't be the worst of problems except it seems that her metal abilities showed up later when working as a blacksmith. Since we already have 3 Weavers who are supposed to be in play, I am a little hesitant to take on a vague 4th. If you would be OK just dropping to Adept or Mage that would solve the age problem pretty easily. Otherwise, it reads alright other than that, so if you would make a decision regarding that I think it would be all set! Congrats on the dog hunt, and happy to hear you got them back.
5,124	134	106	1,551	217	Jonathan felt the shadow knives rip into his flesh, and clenched his teeth while trying not to shout. The hits were more cuts than stabs, and the metal robe have him some light protection; it was definitely way softer than solid emtal however, and he could therefore feel the shadows tearing part of his back with a sensation both like and unlike an actual dagger. He had forgot the cryptical horrors of the Shadow, and obviously underestimated their power. Turning around to face the Shadow, he threw another punch on it -for real this tine- and then kicked it as far away as possible. As the Shadow was pushed back, Jonathan used the time he bought to reach for his necklase, and a the while starting to slowly harden the robe around his arms.	Name: Horatio "Joey" Dunst Age: 25 Gender: Male Mastery: Earthshaper Specialty: Boulder Rank: Mage Appearance: Dirty and disheveled would be among a possible series of words used to describe the boy. He's about 5'11. Tan skin on a mostly skinny figure. He’s got strong arms and legs, though. Dark brown eyes. An unkempt bush of bouncy, brunette curls sit atop his head. Dirt marks and scars go hand in hand on decorating the boy's body, naturally. A sprinkle of dark freckles are noticeable along the bridge of his nose and cheeks. His crass, cockney accent does well to meld with his street urchin appearance. Hands and feet are usually covered in wrappings or some sort. He’s almost fiercely against any form of footwear, actually. Feeling the dust and dirt kick up between his toes is a bit securing to him. His clothes could be considered rags; a short, sleeveless white shirt and thin, brown pants covered in dirt and dust. His hooded shawl could be considered the most unique article of his attire, the knee-length brown cape draping over his shoulders and fastening at his neck. A faded, blocky, zig-zagging pattern lies all along the edge of the tattered drape. Equipment: Usually, if he isn't mindlessly twirling it between his fingers, he has a six inch dagger holstered in his belt. It has a ring near the blade by the hilt, hence all the twirling. Also usually tied along his belt, is a small sack containing the assorted forms of earth he can control. Sand, stone arrowheads, and all sorts of small rocks and pebbles are in this bag. Demeanor: He's a bit of a shady figure. Can keep up in a conversation, but it would be wise to not trust all his words. He's had to lie, cheat, and steal to get to where he is today, and it's what he knows best. Friends were few and far between for the boy, yet he's managed to get by. But, he's reckless also. Foolishly so. His life experiences have made him careless towards the direction his life goes in. Along with the numerous ways he's been used; he knows of his expendable status, he just doesn't care at this point. If you can manage past those wondrous qualities, he’s quite a blast to be around. Jokes and snarks with the best of them. Unhesitant to flirt with any sort of female. History: There's been no shortage of orphans inhabiting that island the mages were pushed to so long ago. However, there were the young ones that managed to find the righteous path, to fully embrace their abilities and to fall in line with all the other budding mages at the Academy. Joey never found this path. Not immediately, anyway. His parents, whoever they were, pulled the ol’ “baby in a basket (sans basket)” routine on a human owned monastery not too far from the nearest town, but at least several fortnights away from the nearest Academy. Little Joey was left on the doorstep with nothing more than a soiled diaper with his name hastily scrawled into it. Such an occurrence was a normal routine for the place, so of course he was taken in. From there he grew up along the monks and nuns and the other assorted ragamuffins of that monastery. He was quite the quick handed troublemaker out of the kids in his age group, a mischievous little runt that was always ready to plan or play the next prank on one of his unsuspecting elders. No doubt he was the all time best at hide and seek. They were quick to give him his forty lashings whenever they found him, too. Despite this, he was always willing to lend a hand, that is, if he were getting something out of the task. At some point in his seventeenth year, he overheard news of a public execution being held in town. It was two criminals; a mage couple. Now, he’s heard many stories and comments about mages up to this point. And none of them were good ones. They’ve been called demons, savages, heathens and false prophets. How they could manipulate flame with just a flick of the wrist, snatch the light right out of the sky, and how the earth would tremble at their will. Most of the religious folk thought that they all deserve nothing shorter than burning in hell. The news of the execution practically resulted in joyous celebration among the nuns and monks of the monastery. Naturally, Joey had to go into town to check it out, he wanted to see what these so-called demons looked like! You could imagine his disappointment when he actually set eyes on the criminals once he reached the town square. They weren’t nearly as monstrous as he was thinking. Nope, instead they looked like old, tired folk, with faces and bodies covered in bruises and cuts. Lame. He looked on, disinterested. The announcement of their crimes went mostly unheard, but it was something the executioner said that really got Joey’s attention. He announced their names: Mikaela and Rohaan Dunst. “...Dunst?” Joey scoffed. It was an interesting coincidence, that he’d have the same last name as these two. As the two dropped from the gallows, and hung for all the town to see, Joey made his way back to the monastery, not giving much thought to that strange coincidence. ...That is, until he started making little rocks float by his fingertips one day. He couldn’t even tell how he was making it happen or why, but he knew he should knock it off before someone noticed and amassed a angry mob. He did pretty well at keeping it under wraps, and even felt he could suppress his newfound abilities. But, he was eighteen pushing nineteen by this point, and felt it was time to move away from the monastery. Though from there, he was so fast to fall in with the wrong crowds. Gangs, thieves, rogues, and other presumably violent ne’er-do-wells. He would do well to use his fists to find his way out of a scrap, rather than his abilities. He would skip from town to town, ever so slowly heading in the direction of the Academy. He would swipe small trinkets and currencies from oblivious tourists and unsuspecting lodgers. If he weren’t sleeping outside in the dirt, it would be in the warm bed of a maiden he’d manage to sweet talk. If he'd get lucky, some odd job would fall into his lap during his travels, maybe help move things off a freighter, or play as an extra hand in a shakedown. The more he stole from the humans, the more he began to loathe their ways. The lot of them were selfish, ignorant, and oh so dumb. He realized the hate against mages seemed mostly for no reason, and it angered him a bit. He managed to reach the Academy just a few weeks after celebrating his twenty-fifth birthday. He was surprised at how gracefully they let him in, that is, once he showed what little of his abilities he possessed. That was understandable. Living alongside the humans for so long, he could understand why it would be so hard to trust any of them. Yet, he would wonder if anyone would trust him.
5,125	134	107	1,032	421	By the time Vanahara managed to crack the ice rooting her knee to the ground enough to break free, her nose was bleeding and she was not pleased. She grabbed the nearest tankard, lined up her shot, and flung it full force at the back of the ice mage's head with the precision only an Ironworker could muster. The tavern was in trouble. The place was saturated with alcohol, and the flames were spreading from the overturned table. She was caught for a moment between trying to douse the flames and pursuing the mages—but she wasn't on her own this time. "Hidalgo! Andrade!" she called, gesturing from her soaking clothes to the fire and hoping he got the message—put water on this, please. She hesitated for just a second before gathering up the forks and knives nearest her and heading for a window. "Master Alexander, we need some light outside—"	NAME— Vanahara Pike AGE— 23 GENDER— Female MASTERY— Metallic SPECIALTY— Ironworker RANK— Adept APPEARANCE— EQUIPMENT— Vanahara is practical in every way. She wears a tool belt whenever possible, and keeps some in her pocket if she can’t—she has pouches for random scraps of metal, wires, and bolts, some small blacksmithing tools—but the main part of the belt is entirely metal. She also wears iron bracers that stretch from wrist to elbow, with a leather lining that stretches into fingerless gloves. With a little Ironworker finesse, she can quickly spread the metal of a bracer into a small shield, or a larger one by bringing her forearms together. It doesn’t end there—Vana keeps metal on her wherever possible. Tucked into her boots, pins in her trousers, buckles on her vest, the ornaments in her hair; she refuses to be without a weapon if necessary. On that topic, she keeps at least one pre-formed set of brass knuckles on her at all times. She prefers not to fight, but she’s been helpless before, and doesn’t want to be there again. DEMEANOR— For her size and obvious strength, Vanahara is surprisingly quiet. She’s not unfriendly, but reserved, more willing to listen to others than talk herself. She considers every word before she says it—this slow speech and her large size combine to give the impression of stupidity, at first glance. Make no mistake, though, she’s smarter than many of her peers—she just waits before she uses it, and she never tries to show off. It can be difficult to get to know Vana, but you will never have a more loyal friend. She sticks by her friends through thick and thin, and is more than willing to stand between them and danger, and would trust them with her life. Unfortunately, no one has actually ever met one of her friends—they’re starting to doubt she has any. HISTORY— Vanahara was born in a small desert village called Sunder, the Storm always brewing on the horizon. Due to their proximity, their hostile surroundings, and their remote location, the people Vana grew up around were tough, but close-knit. Her family have been blacksmiths for generations, ever since the village sprung up and possibly before then—as such, Vana can’t ever remember the exact moment she recognized her elemental talent, as she's been around metal and tools her entire life, and can't quite pinpoint the moment it slid into supernatural ability. She had three brothers and sisters, all significantly younger than her, and it always seemed to them like she was just the perfect eldest sister. Her father was hard to please, but his praise meant everything to her with the absence of her mother; he was a devout follower of Karina and Loriot, like most of the villagers, and instilled that same sense of duty and purpose in his daughter. It seems like she’s always been bending metal to her will; when he realized she was more than just a talented smith, he said she was proud of her and sent her off to the Academy. Vana’s family is all about duty; she misses them, but she recognizes an opportunity to improve herself and the world, and she’ll do what she’s told. She hasn’t seen them in more than a decade, now—maybe soon she’ll see them again. Vana hasn’t made many friends, mainly due to her intimidating size and her quietness, but she’s not quite lonely. She's made some enemies, simply because of her skill on the dueling floor, but she's not the type to hold a grudge over anything as simple as that. She dedicated herself to learning about her abilities, and as such has become quite proficient. She’s quite talented, and controls metal almost instinctively, and she’s more than willing to follow orders—she’s a prime candidate for a military outfit, but what she really wants to do is help people with her gift, whether that's making armor for peacekeepers or going home to protect her family and her village. She wants to keep people safe, and make her father proud.
5,126	134	108	2,700	181	Run all you want, I'll hunt you down, Ling muttered to herself, running to keep up as the renegade with the goods dashed away. She rounded the same corner he had taken to find him about to dash round another. If the Nightshade planned to use the dark corners of the alley to hide from her, he had another thing coming. She knew the tricks that her fellow Nightshades used to hide in the dark. If he tried to disappear, she would notice the signs. Probably. So she persisted, pushing herself to keep up with the sprinter. Ling didn't have to worry too much about her fitness: as long as she could still fire a bolt at the end of the chase, she was fine. And if need be, she could knock back some of the Restorative on her belt to ease the drain on her stamina and keep up the pressure. She rounded another corner and fired Kei - a second too late to catch the Nightshade in the back of the leg. The bolt hit the ground harmlessly as he sped away. But still she pressed on, reloading as she ran. She'd landed one hit already; she would do it again.	Name: Ling the Silver Vial Age: 24 Gender: Female Mastery: Nightshade Specialty: Alchemist Rank: Adept Appearance: As Ling originates from the Dragon Empire of the eastern plains, she is Imperial in appearance and stature; she stands at five feet seven inches tall and is notably lightweight. Her black hair is always tied back in a short ponytail; no sense in letting it get everywhere. She has brown eyes, almost always behind protective glasses out of habit. Ling can usually be found wearing black pants and a simple black-and-white tunic with long sleeves (which are rolled up when working). Her tunics bear her personal emblem in silver thread: a potion vial with an Imperial dragon curled around it. When travelling, Ling will often don a wide straw hat and a pack to hold textbooks, journals, and similar bulky items. She supplements her outfit with a belt of pouches to hold potion ingredients and the tools to work them, and two sets of leather straps. The first is fitted with loops and pockets to hold potion vials, plus a sheath to hold a silver knife. The second keeps her weapon of choice secured on her back. Equipment: Aside from a bag of Imperial silver, her usual supplies of potion ingredients, and the tools a travelling Alchemist would normally need, Ling carries a custom-made crossbow and four rectangular boxes of bolts called autoquivers. The crossbow has several modifications from the standard model: its arms can fold inward for ease of transport; a lever on the side, when pulled, draws the string back without the need for extensive strength; and the stock's space for ammunition is twice the width of a standard crossbow. This last feature allows Ling to fire either standard-issue bolts from a fitted autoquiver, or potion vials that explode on impact, scattering their contents across a patch of land or group of opponents - or allies. Ling had her crossbow - which she fondly nicknames "Kei" - and its autoquivers custom-built for her purposes. Each autoquiver holds fifteen bolts, and bolts can be replaced at any blacksmith. One of her autoquivers is marked with a skull and crossbones, the classic indicator of poison, indicating she has applied poison to each bolt in that pack. Demeanour: Some paint the Nightshades as sullen, selfish individuals who seek only a means to achieve their own ends. Ling is almost the exact opposite. She's cheery and outgoing, willing to help others in a situation even if there's no up-front benefit to her. In this sense she might be considered a tiny bit naive. She does, however, have a particular devotion to her alchemy; while working, she enters a state of focus in which nothing outside of the immediate area matters until her task is complete. There's no sense in leaving a potion of any kind half-finished; as a result, Ling ensures she has everything in order before she starts work. Ling also makes a point of keeping notes on all of her standard-issue potions and experiments. She finds the latter much more interesting than the former: there's no sense of discovery in copying the methods used by the textbooks. She has already filled several journals with these notes, in addition to memorising all of the more commonly made recipes (some of which have her own unique spin on them). Despite being of the Nightshade mastery, Ling shies away from Sitheria, God of Darkness. Instead, she favours two others of the Council: Alainia, God of Water; and Loriot, God of Fire. Ling believes that Alainia and Loriot, while opposed in their Elements and her own, are the closest to Alchemy at its core. History: The Dragon Empire is a fascinating culture. There, the long, snakelike Imperial dragons are revered in almost any art form you would care to mention. Statuary, paintings, the written word, even architecture. Little is seen of the majestic creatures, as they are often hostile to human life and civilisation, yet at the same time the Empire reveres the dragons for their grace and beauty. Of course, Ling knows nothing of the Empire firsthand, as she was shipped overseas to another Academy at the age of three, when she was tested for magical potential like all Imperial children. There is no Academy in the Dragon Empire: in the year 73 AW, after the destruction of the first Imperial Academy - whether as a result of a spell gone awry or a deliberate act of arson was never found out - Emperor Jutai Fallen Leaf declared that his lands would play host to no mage. To this day, all Imperial children are tested for magical power at an early age. Those that show the signs are shipped elsewhere, and may apply for Imperial citizenship at the age of nineteen despite being confined to Academy life. The young Ling was part of a group of fifteen Imperial children sent to the Academy, filtered into the Nightshade mastery with two others. Her grasp on shadow magic was limited, while the other young Nightshades reveled in their new-found power. But she persisted, not wishing to fall behind. Eventually, at the age of twelve, the path of the Alchemist was opened to her, and she threw herself into it. Ling found alchemy intriguing; the chemical transmutation of simple, disparate ingredients into a greater, more powerful whole. She didn't care that the Masters had chosen to wait to see whether her skills would develop. This was where she would thrive, she told herself, pushing her limits on a regular basis. She caught up to her fellow students, those the same age who had chosen their paths before her, within six months, and didn't stop there. During her later teenage years, Ling volunteered for journeys outside the Academy. Whether the gathering of unusual ingredients that couldn't be found in the Academy's gardens, eliminating a group of bandits before they could attack a nearby town, or just providing an escort for a trip for younger mages, she wanted in on them. She wanted to see what life was like outside the walls. While she has never visited the Dragon Empire on one of these journeys - it is a long way - she studied the region and its culture during this time. At the age of eighteen, she accompanied a caravan of supplies leaving the Academy for the purposes of trade. She supported the caravan's guards for most of the trip there and back, fending off unwanted company. But while they fought with magical prowess, she hurled vials and passed restoratives to those who needed them. On the way back to the Academy, she ran out of potions, having only prepared a dozen beforehand. It was only after documenting her experiences that Ling realised that potions and poisons simply weren't enough to be properly supportive. She had to be able to cause some effective damage herself; otherwise, she was just another body the caravan guards needed to protect. So she began researching means of expanding upon the simple act of throwing potion vials to cause harm. There was a recent innovation in throwing short spears from a Metallic kid, that she jumped on and experimented with. While the technique was certainly effective for the javelin, it was almost useless for throwing potions. Too inaccurate without a proper guidance system. And then came the brainwave. A crossbow, modified ever so slightly to accept the small vials she used frequently. Ling, still at the rank of Mage at this time, went to a Metallic Weaver with a bag of coins in one hand and her notes in the other. The Weaver and the Mage spent the next few weeks on her customised weapon, ranging from sourcing the required materials to Ling providing several potion-related favours. But after a month of work, the crossbow was finally finished, and with a few extra modifications for ease of use. Calibrated perfectly for the throwing of vials with just enough force to catapult them a good distance, but not enough to shatter them when she pulled the trigger. As a bonus gift, the customised weapon, which Ling named "Kei", came with a set of long box-shaped containers of crossbow bolts, to be fitted atop the weapon. Submissions of high-strength potions for examination, as well as a short written paper on her vial-launching crossbow, earned Ling the rank of Adept soon after she turned nineteen. And with this promotion came her choice of title: she became Ling the Silver Vial. Surnames are uncommon in the Dragon Empire: instead, titles chosen by the individual are the norm. Whether a title comes before or after the given name is up to the individual, but a title will always have some reflection of the person choosing it. To give examples, an adventurer might call himself "Explorer Lun", while a Metallic Elemental might refer to himself as "Shang the Steel Hand". An Imperial citizen will usually choose his or her title at the age of nineteen, when Imperial law deems them a legal adult. But now that she had passed the first of her trials, Ling had even more work to do. So she got stuck into it, working late into the night to complete her projects and supplementing her midnight studies with restorative draughts to keep her awake and focused. It was here that shadow magic began to play a part in Ling's studies once more: the art of drawing a fragment of one's own shadow into a bottle to serve as an ingredient called an umbral reagent. A grasp on this particular alchemical discipline eluded Ling for several years, to the point where she began to experiment, finishing the textbook's recipes without the regents. Every one of them blew up in her laboratory. Without the use of umbral reagents, the Adept-tier recipes were unstable; they needed the refining qualities of the reagents to blend components that - as Ling learned the hard way - reacted badly to one another. Ling saw this only as another obstacle. She pushed herself harder, driving herself to find a way to either follow the textbook's methods, or create an alternative to the use of umbral reagents. She asked Weavers and historians, gathered the most odd or unusual of components, all in the name of solving this problem. Three years after becoming an Adept, she knew every Adept recipe back to front, but had little practical experience because she still struggled to bottle a tiny piece of her own shadow. But no matter what she tried, her experiments resulted in wasted efforts, not even acidic enough for throwing at something. Frustrated, Ling stormed out of the Academy with Kei on her back. She hitched a ride with a caravan to one of the nearby cities, seeking something - anything - she hadn't used yet. There was nothing. So, having spent the day searching with no result except a box of vials from a glassblower and a pack of crossbow bolts from the blacksmith - each traded for a trio of Ling's homebrew all-nighter tonics - she settled into a seat in the caravan with a profound sense of having wasted her time. Halfway back to the Academy, the caravan was ambushed. "You alright there, miss Ling? You're looking like a bee got under your hat." "I'm fine. Just keeping an eye on the road." Ling's response was terse and quiet. As always when travelling, she had Kei in her hands, an autoquiver in place. It was better to be safe than sorry, she reasoned, especially since she was the only mage on this trip. The caravan rounded a corner in the road, to find the path blocked by a makeshift barricade: logs, hastily jammed into place to hinder passage. The driver spat over the side. "Sons of... we've got company." Almost instantly, Ling was on her feet, her weapon up and aimed. Four bandits leaped from their hiding places, an assortment of weapons in hand. "Get behind me," was Ling's command to the driver before she pointed Kei at the closest of the ragtag bunch. "I am Ling the Silver Vial. If you have even a scrap of self-preservation, you will dismantle this barricade and allow us to pass." The lead bandit just chuckled. "Yer pretty words dun mean nuthin, girlie. Drop the weapon." "Oh, you want simpler words? Fine. The bolt in my crossbow is poisoned. One cut is all it takes." It was a bluff, but a carefully crafted one. The man flinched, but recovered his composure. "There's six of us an' one of you. Y'can't take us all on." Too dumb to count. Not worth the effort of negotiations. Ling pulled the trigger. The bolt hit him straight in the chest, like she'd trained. She didn't even watch the man fall, instead yanking on Kei's reset switch to reload before putting another shot into the second bandit. One of the outlaws tried to rush for the horse pulling the caravan; if they couldn't take the whole thing, they could at least cripple it, preventing it from moving. Out flashed a thrown vial, shattering on contact and dousing the rogue in acidic fluid. He flailed away from the caravan, screaming as the poison ate at his face. An arrow, crudely made, punched through the side of the caravan. Ling looked up to find the last bandit standing on a thick branch, carrying a bow and quiver. The second shot grazed the back of her hand; it was Ling's turn to flinch as she felt blood seep out from her skin. But she raised Kei and launched a series of bolts upward, peppering the archer's perch and knocking him out of his vantage point. He was dead before he hit the ground. And just like that, it was over. The one that Ling had hit with the acidic vial remained only in cries, as he had dashed away to find water. Ling spun to the inside of the caravan. "Is everyone all right?" The caravan master, two young boys and a lady in a sunhat were hiding, trying to make themselves as small as possible. Breathing slowly to calm herself, Ling collapsed Kei's arms and stowed the crossbow on her back, hands open to show she meant no harm. Even an Alchemist was still a mage. "It's okay, they're gone. The fighting's over." "A-Are you sure, miss?" "Positive." "If you're certain... hell's gates, miss Ling, you did quite the number on them," the caravan master murmured as he peered out at the scene. He jumped down to check on the horse, which was skittish and restless. "I didn't hit him with the vial, did I?" she queried. "No, no, he seems fine." "Oh, good. Last thing we needed was a panicked horse." "Last thing we needed was this damn ambush. If'n you can give a hand with getting these logs out the way, that'd be aces. C'mon, boys, time to earn your keep." The man beckoned to the two lads in the caravan, who jumped out and hurried to help him with the barricade. Ling hesitated, however, taking the time to examine her hand, which had taken a glancing blow. There was no sign of poison affecting the area, which was always a good sign. However, as she raised her hand to study it in the light, the entire injury turned solid grey, even the thin trail of blood. Ling dabbed at the viscous liquid with one finger; it remained the same grey-black colour. Ling could feel the presence of her shadow magic, stronger than ever. Inspired, she hurried to her space in the caravan, drew a vial from its box and collected the shed blood within. The glass and its contents seemed to glow in her hand. Reagent magic will become easier over time as you get used to touching your shadow. Ordinarily an intangible presence, the spell twists your shadow's properties, changing it, allowing you to gather it in your hand as you would do with mundane water. When the preparation stage is complete, pour a handful into a vial and allow it to sit for a few minutes until it turns darker and thicker, similar to blood. The paragraph on umbral reagents came to Ling's mind easily. The vial's contents were almost an exact match to the accompanying sketch. But she hadn't done as the textbook prescribed. It was almost involuntary, like her shadow magic was called to the spilled blood, mixing of its own accord. Ling bested the bandits easily, thanks to Kei and an acidic vial. When the trip was concluded and Ling was safe in her laboratory, she drew out a vial of blood she had collected after the fight and examined it. It bore all the physical signs of an umbral reagent, as described in her textbooks, but there was only one way to be sure it had the alchemical properties of one. Ling quickly prepared an introductory Adept potion for regeneration of injuries. Two bright red flasks, whipped up within minutes... all that remained was to blend the two together in the same flask as the reagent, according to the book. So she tipped her vial of infused blood into a flask, lit a fire beneath it, and tentatively poured the other two in with the grey, holding her breath all the while. The three liquids began to bubble and merge, aided by Ling's tentative stirring, then the potion turned a bold, dark red, unlike the two from a minute before. No explosion. No shattering of glass. Ling had found the key, her way to progress as an Adept. Her first priority, however, was to inform the Masters, to ensure she wasn't breaking any rules or wouldn't accidentally poison anyone with her blood-fueled potions. The ensuing discussion was intense, thorough, and more than a little scary; she was called on to repeat the creation under a Master's scrutiny. She managed it, though, and didn't poison him in the process. That was always good; there was often a chance that a healing potion, even one made to the letter, could turn out to be lethal. And since she was dealing with previously uncharted territory, anything could happen. But nothing did. The shadow-infused blood acted in the exact same manner as an ordinary umbral reagent. After another hour of talks with the Masters, Ling was cleared to continue her work in this unusual fashion. And continue she did. She took to carrying a knife to draw her own blood for her reagents. Coaxing shadow magic into the shed blood quickly became easier, aided by restoratives and regeneration potions, but she couldn't draw too much too quickly or she would have to wait even longer to resume her work. She depended on being in some degree of physical fitness, to ensure she could heal quickly from the cuts she inflicted on herself. Thankfully, any scars she might have gathered were quickly healed by her own creations. And occasionally an Illuminate healer, in the first stages of her experiments when she cut too deep and caused more pain than she had intended. After several years of further study, Ling is slowly working her way through her textbooks. She still relies on drawing blood to produce her reagents instead of just drawing scraps of shadow directly. While she understands the Masters' concern for her variation on the core practices, she still feels a tiny bit held back by their observations. Her method is unusual, but just as effective as the standard procedure. But she brushes it off, and tries to be her usual bright and cheery self; the Masters do what they do for a reason.
5,127	134	109	1,657	181	Alexander's hands burned, but adrenaline made what would have been crippling pain and screaming into a dulled throb at that point. However he was no fool, he focused his energy on making sure the surely damaged nerves in his hands wouldn't be permanently so. He always felt that stupid should hurt, and he applied that philosophy to himself as well. It was then he saw the daggers coming towards him. "Gods damn it." He managed to get out as he let go of the fire mage and dodged most of the daggers. Most was not all however, and he felt the familiar pain of a dagger sinking into his back. Luckily, while it hurt to high hell, it didn't hit anything immediately life threatening so he was able to continue on. Not pulling the dagger free from his back as the call for light came through. "Then you shall have it." He replied as he rushed outside. Hands charred, blistered, and bleeding with a dagger made of ice in his back. Alexander focused both on keeping himself alive and providing the energy for what would need to be done next. Luckily he hadn't been too far behind the mages as he essentially turned himself into a spotlight. Focusing a bright beam in the direction of the retreating mages. "Unfortunately, taking them down will be up to the rest of you."	Name: Nataly Andrade Age: 26 Gender: Female Mastery: Hydromancer Specialty: Blizzard Rank: Adept Nataly is 5'7" and is a slight 116 lbs. Her northern roots show in her pale skin, contrasting with ice blue hair. The hair is cut short, left at about shoulder length and her have bangs bound with purple bands. She has eyes are deeper blue than her hair, and what could be considered a "cute" complexion. People are surprised by Nataly's slender frame because her robes are huge. They billow out from the sides and are bulky with fluff to protect from the cold that she conjures. Contrary to her skills, underneath the robes she dresses rather revealingly, to help deal with the heat of the southern lands the Academy sit on (relatively speaking). She has a pendant with a cut piece of blue amber on it that she'll often pull out to help her focus when conjuring up her icy magics. Equipment: Why carry weapons when concealable and untraceable ones can be crafted out of ice? Demeanor: Nataly has been rather bubbly as of late. The prospect of finally getting promoted from Adept to Weaver has lifted her spirits in recent months, and has seen a surge in her production in classes as well as her kindness towards her fellow Hydros. You do not want to get on her bad side though. If ever wronged in any way, it's not possible for Nataly to just let it go. History: The Andrades welcomed young Nataly into the family during a nasty blizzard in the Far Northern town of Cartaquilla, which serves as the main port for the Kingdom of Gran Helada. That might have served as a premonition for Nataly's future, but blizzards were a regular facet of life in the frozen lands. For Falco, a fisherman by trade, and Yoreli, a stay-at-home mother, the first daughter in the family after three boys was a welcome change and they doted the young girl from the moment she was placed in the buffered crib. The first sign that Nataly might be special in more ways than one manifested when she was eleven. Yoreli opened the door to Nataly's room one morning to find the girl playing in a layer of snow, a icy replica of her brother Jaime standing guard as she made snow angels. Yoreli scolded the child for leaving the window open and letting all the snow in but the window was closed, revealing the sunny day that Cartaquilla had been blessed with. As Yoreli looked up she could see the sprinkles of snowflakes falling from the ceiling, then dropped down to her daughter, still happily waving her arms without a care in the world. This revelation was met with fear and seclusion for Nataly, as Yoreli did her best to hide the witchcraft her daughter perpetrated. Falco paid no mind, usually out on trawling expeditions but Yoreli kept Nataly's powers a secret from her husband and he maintained a loving bond with his child. However, the snow that Nataly so willingly embraced would prove to be her father's downfall. Twelve hours after he left Cartaquilla on a day hunt for crab, one of the worst blizzards in a century struck. It paralyzed the region and trapped all seabound ships for days while the ice raged on. Worry grew with each passing day, and the prospect of Falco returning was fading. It got to the point that on the third day, Yoreli came out into the snow, searching for her sixteen year old daughter only to find Nataly standing in her pyjamas, tears frozen to her face, desperately trying to bend the snow away to open a path for her father to come back. She failed. Without Falco, Yoreli tried to look for other paths to taking care of her children. She learned about the Academy for people with Nataly's talents, so the girl was sent packing at age 17 for the far south. Nataly was slow to progress off the bat. She still was upset about her father and did not want to conjure up the substance that took him away in her mind, but eventually the icy walls tumbled down and she was starting to get the hang of controlling her gifts. She finally passed her Adept exam at 23, and has been working hard to try and progress up the ranks. Nataly wants to get to the point where she could control the snowstorms of her hometown and at least make sure other kids don't have to lose their parents like she did.
5,128	134	110	2,579	89	With Jonathan's surprise kick, the shadow stumbled back, and raised up the knives once again, to confront the mage as he prepared his weapons as well. However, before either could move against each other, the shadow began to fade away. The shadow pointed to where its eyes would have been, then back at Jonathan as he was suddenly no more. The lack of the opponent did not allow the mage to relax, as the bar was beginning to show the problems with fire and the many alcoholic drinks scattered about, as some began to explode and the building began to crumble. With Joey and Drew both entangled for a brief moment, the Earthshaper took the time to smash yet another hole into the earth to pull more dirt about, and began to use it a little more to be defensive instead of smashing everything. Walls of dirt while not exactly impressive, would do the job for what they needed to do which was protect themselves as they fell back. Any assault would have to get through some dirt walls. Meanwhile, Raven was still tangling with the icy knight, and while he did have the better skill in the blade regard, the building burning around them was a bit more of a concern to the metal knight than it was a mage covered in ice. When a quick break happened, Raven could only grin as a mug slammed into the back of the ice mage's head, causing her to stumble a moment. While Raven was fully intending to take advantage, a drink spilling over and bringing flames to his feet interrupted that idea. "Gods damn me, we need to get out of this burning tomb!" Raven shouted as it appeared that their own water mages were not going to be able to tame the inferno. There was far too much fuel for the fires here, and fighting at the same time was not going to help things. "Forget the damned rogues, its time to get out!" Raven turned to get to the door, ignoring the opponents who seemed to have also lost the stomach for doing more fighting. As Alexander turned himself into a spotlight, while it was effective in keeping the retreating mages from looking at him, the effectiveness was somewhat lost as they were not intending to stare into the light mage, and with the room now exploding in flames quite literally, it was already the brightest building in town without Alexander's help, and the now constructing dirt walls was more than enough to stop light in some sections. Meanwhile, outside when Ling turned the next corner she was met with a new problem: a shadow which was more than ready for her coming around, and took a quick swing at her. Since the shadow has just been called, it did not yet have its knives drawn. But close range punches would work for the escaping nightshade to keep from being followed or shot again.	The vagueness isn't a bad problem, but there are two concerns, both a bit related to one another. Her age and her rank. Age comes into play because she is the youngest Weaver by a couple years, which wouldn't be the worst of problems except it seems that her metal abilities showed up later when working as a blacksmith. Since we already have 3 Weavers who are supposed to be in play, I am a little hesitant to take on a vague 4th. If you would be OK just dropping to Adept or Mage that would solve the age problem pretty easily. Otherwise, it reads alright other than that, so if you would make a decision regarding that I think it would be all set! Congrats on the dog hunt, and happy to hear you got them back.
5,129	134	111	1,032	421	As much as Vanahara hated to admit it, the tavern was a lost cause. Years of spilled drinks had made the wooden structure even more flammable than it should be. Vana hesitated for just a moment before growling to herself and acquiescing to the Commander's orders. She ran for the door, thankfully still unblocked due to the stream of civilians who'd fled, and managed to make it out without anything flaming fell on her. Once she was out, she took a moment to regain her bearings, quickly buckling on her metal bracers now that she had space to breathe. Vanahara whipped around, looking for the path the Nightshade had taken while simultaneously shielding her eyes from Master Alexander's flare. There—just barely on this side of the corner, a man-shaped shadow not dispelled by the magical light. Which meant the Nightshade was nearby... Vanahara looked up, eyes narrowing as she picked out the stars overhead. The constellations were slightly off from what she knew back home, but...often, in the faceless and shifting desert landscape, the only reliable map one had was the stars. Vana was practiced at this, at least—which meant she'd be able to find her way back here, if all else failed. "Ling's in trouble," she said shortly to anyone who could hear before running perpendicular to the street and disappearing into an alleyway. She'd seen something of the layout of the village as they'd flown in, and it seemed to be a basic wheel shape, circular streets with spokes in between, and it was more of a hamlet, really. If she could cut off the enemy Nightshade...she might just be able to get the town's valuables back.	NAME— Vanahara Pike AGE— 23 GENDER— Female MASTERY— Metallic SPECIALTY— Ironworker RANK— Adept APPEARANCE— EQUIPMENT— Vanahara is practical in every way. She wears a tool belt whenever possible, and keeps some in her pocket if she can’t—she has pouches for random scraps of metal, wires, and bolts, some small blacksmithing tools—but the main part of the belt is entirely metal. She also wears iron bracers that stretch from wrist to elbow, with a leather lining that stretches into fingerless gloves. With a little Ironworker finesse, she can quickly spread the metal of a bracer into a small shield, or a larger one by bringing her forearms together. It doesn’t end there—Vana keeps metal on her wherever possible. Tucked into her boots, pins in her trousers, buckles on her vest, the ornaments in her hair; she refuses to be without a weapon if necessary. On that topic, she keeps at least one pre-formed set of brass knuckles on her at all times. She prefers not to fight, but she’s been helpless before, and doesn’t want to be there again. DEMEANOR— For her size and obvious strength, Vanahara is surprisingly quiet. She’s not unfriendly, but reserved, more willing to listen to others than talk herself. She considers every word before she says it—this slow speech and her large size combine to give the impression of stupidity, at first glance. Make no mistake, though, she’s smarter than many of her peers—she just waits before she uses it, and she never tries to show off. It can be difficult to get to know Vana, but you will never have a more loyal friend. She sticks by her friends through thick and thin, and is more than willing to stand between them and danger, and would trust them with her life. Unfortunately, no one has actually ever met one of her friends—they’re starting to doubt she has any. HISTORY— Vanahara was born in a small desert village called Sunder, the Storm always brewing on the horizon. Due to their proximity, their hostile surroundings, and their remote location, the people Vana grew up around were tough, but close-knit. Her family have been blacksmiths for generations, ever since the village sprung up and possibly before then—as such, Vana can’t ever remember the exact moment she recognized her elemental talent, as she's been around metal and tools her entire life, and can't quite pinpoint the moment it slid into supernatural ability. She had three brothers and sisters, all significantly younger than her, and it always seemed to them like she was just the perfect eldest sister. Her father was hard to please, but his praise meant everything to her with the absence of her mother; he was a devout follower of Karina and Loriot, like most of the villagers, and instilled that same sense of duty and purpose in his daughter. It seems like she’s always been bending metal to her will; when he realized she was more than just a talented smith, he said she was proud of her and sent her off to the Academy. Vana’s family is all about duty; she misses them, but she recognizes an opportunity to improve herself and the world, and she’ll do what she’s told. She hasn’t seen them in more than a decade, now—maybe soon she’ll see them again. Vana hasn’t made many friends, mainly due to her intimidating size and her quietness, but she’s not quite lonely. She's made some enemies, simply because of her skill on the dueling floor, but she's not the type to hold a grudge over anything as simple as that. She dedicated herself to learning about her abilities, and as such has become quite proficient. She’s quite talented, and controls metal almost instinctively, and she’s more than willing to follow orders—she’s a prime candidate for a military outfit, but what she really wants to do is help people with her gift, whether that's making armor for peacekeepers or going home to protect her family and her village. She wants to keep people safe, and make her father proud.
5,130	134	112	1,607	80	Drew, not being the most physically durable individual, had to spend time getting up after Joey was slammed into him. He tried to get the fire under control, but there was so little to work with he couldn't contain it. Even his attempts to draw water from the air were proving useless, since the heat was too much for him to make anything useful. With the water gone from the air around him, he was denied his trump card, and really any form of attack he had. He had to get out of there now. He regretted what had happened with Vanahara, but at least Nataly was able to help her out. Still, it was becoming clear that even his attempts to stop the place from burning around them were going nowhere. He had to rush out, ready to cover the others on their way out. He had a small mist around him as he was outside in the open air, trying to get their path ready with water quenching the flames near the door. He was hoping for a certain enemy mage to make their move. He wanted to go after Ling, but he lacked the quick offensive capabilities to be of any real help. “Come on! Someone faster than me get out of here…” he said, keeping his eyes peeled.	Name: Drew Hidalgo Age: 27 Gender: Male Mastery: Hydromancer Specialty: Storms Rank: Adept Appearance: Drew is tall, but he tends to slouch or hunch over, so he appears to be average height. He wears a simple light grey robe with a hood (though he hardly wears the hood). He has pale skin, medium-length brown hair, a constant 5 o’clock shadow that he can’t seem to get rid of or get to grow further, and green eyes that tend to be half-closed all the time. Between the slumping and the closed eyes, Drew constantly looks like he’s asleep. Equipment: nothing beyond the essentials. Demeanor: Not terribly sociable, but not a brooding loner. He’ll stay with groups and chime in occasionally, but he usually just sits back and listens. Willing to let others know what he thinks, but he does try to have some tact about it. Has an odd distrust of Nightshades. Hard to earn his trust, but he’ll trust you almost unconditionally once you earn it. History: Compared to most, some would say Drew’s upbringing was dull. He was born to parents who were well off, even if they weren't actually wealthy. His powers manifested at the earliest point possible and his parents sent him off to the academy with little complications. They were very supportive and tried to stay in contact with him whenever they could, though their jobs as nomadic merchants meant they had much to deal with. Drew would discover he had a talent for some of the more niche parts of the path of the Storm, though the basics of the Hydromancer were harder for him to grasp. Though he had trouble making water solid and even making great quantities of liquid, he was very skilled at manipulating vapors, forming mists and clouds and even generating and controlling the element of lightning. He could still make rain and make liquid from gas, but his expertise was in the winds, not the waters. Time would pass and he’d do above average in his classes. He wasn’t a social butterfly, but he wasn’t a pariah either. He made friends and even had a few relationships, but they all just seemed to drift away over time, and neither side really strove to maintain contact. He became just another face in the crowd, the guy who sat at the back of the classrooms and sat around his living quarters quietly. The one constant companion he had was his little sister, Fei, who was discovered to be an elemental years after Drew was enrolled. She looked up to him and thinks of him as the smartest, coolest mage in the academy (especially because of his skills making lightning). Drew never tried to impress anyone at the academy, never giving in to any dares or listening to the instructor’s wishes for him to better himself or “live up to his true potential”. He does well in his classes, had his specialties, so he thought that was enough. But deep down, he does try to be the mage his sister sees him as. It’s why he finally got the motivation to finally try and get himself promoted to weaver (he was considered, and good words were said, but he was ultimately rejected) and why he’s going on this journey.
5,131	134	113	1,551	217	Forget the damned rogues, its time to get out! Seemed the Commander answered Joey's internal debate as the fires of the bar sprouted exponentially and quite explosively. "Yeah, yup, sounds like a pretty good idea." He thought, scrambling out after Drew. As much as the Earthshaper's dirt walls tempted him, flame was literally licking at his heels. Round two with the bulky fellow would have to be cancelled for the time being. Rushing out into the cool air of the town, Joey was quick to notice a few things. Like Master Alexander glowing so bright Joey almost risked being blinded. And in the flash, he could see Vanahara bolting off down one of the alleyways, claiming "Ling's in trouble," in that husky voice of hers. "Ling...crossbow gal...knifey git...knives!" The fire and earthshaper almost made the rogue forget of his initial objective. And, he figured he'd inject himself into that particular equation. So, he took off after Vana, the light emitting from Alexander growing dimmer and dimmer as he tailed her. "Right behind ya, V!" He called, slowly gaining as he pushed into a sprint. She had a definite lead, but the clangs and jangles coming from her metal parts didn't make it too hard to lose her. "Running down a dark alleyway, eh? S'like a typical Sunday night for me." He thought, smirking all the way.	Name: Horatio "Joey" Dunst Age: 25 Gender: Male Mastery: Earthshaper Specialty: Boulder Rank: Mage Appearance: Dirty and disheveled would be among a possible series of words used to describe the boy. He's about 5'11. Tan skin on a mostly skinny figure. He’s got strong arms and legs, though. Dark brown eyes. An unkempt bush of bouncy, brunette curls sit atop his head. Dirt marks and scars go hand in hand on decorating the boy's body, naturally. A sprinkle of dark freckles are noticeable along the bridge of his nose and cheeks. His crass, cockney accent does well to meld with his street urchin appearance. Hands and feet are usually covered in wrappings or some sort. He’s almost fiercely against any form of footwear, actually. Feeling the dust and dirt kick up between his toes is a bit securing to him. His clothes could be considered rags; a short, sleeveless white shirt and thin, brown pants covered in dirt and dust. His hooded shawl could be considered the most unique article of his attire, the knee-length brown cape draping over his shoulders and fastening at his neck. A faded, blocky, zig-zagging pattern lies all along the edge of the tattered drape. Equipment: Usually, if he isn't mindlessly twirling it between his fingers, he has a six inch dagger holstered in his belt. It has a ring near the blade by the hilt, hence all the twirling. Also usually tied along his belt, is a small sack containing the assorted forms of earth he can control. Sand, stone arrowheads, and all sorts of small rocks and pebbles are in this bag. Demeanor: He's a bit of a shady figure. Can keep up in a conversation, but it would be wise to not trust all his words. He's had to lie, cheat, and steal to get to where he is today, and it's what he knows best. Friends were few and far between for the boy, yet he's managed to get by. But, he's reckless also. Foolishly so. His life experiences have made him careless towards the direction his life goes in. Along with the numerous ways he's been used; he knows of his expendable status, he just doesn't care at this point. If you can manage past those wondrous qualities, he’s quite a blast to be around. Jokes and snarks with the best of them. Unhesitant to flirt with any sort of female. History: There's been no shortage of orphans inhabiting that island the mages were pushed to so long ago. However, there were the young ones that managed to find the righteous path, to fully embrace their abilities and to fall in line with all the other budding mages at the Academy. Joey never found this path. Not immediately, anyway. His parents, whoever they were, pulled the ol’ “baby in a basket (sans basket)” routine on a human owned monastery not too far from the nearest town, but at least several fortnights away from the nearest Academy. Little Joey was left on the doorstep with nothing more than a soiled diaper with his name hastily scrawled into it. Such an occurrence was a normal routine for the place, so of course he was taken in. From there he grew up along the monks and nuns and the other assorted ragamuffins of that monastery. He was quite the quick handed troublemaker out of the kids in his age group, a mischievous little runt that was always ready to plan or play the next prank on one of his unsuspecting elders. No doubt he was the all time best at hide and seek. They were quick to give him his forty lashings whenever they found him, too. Despite this, he was always willing to lend a hand, that is, if he were getting something out of the task. At some point in his seventeenth year, he overheard news of a public execution being held in town. It was two criminals; a mage couple. Now, he’s heard many stories and comments about mages up to this point. And none of them were good ones. They’ve been called demons, savages, heathens and false prophets. How they could manipulate flame with just a flick of the wrist, snatch the light right out of the sky, and how the earth would tremble at their will. Most of the religious folk thought that they all deserve nothing shorter than burning in hell. The news of the execution practically resulted in joyous celebration among the nuns and monks of the monastery. Naturally, Joey had to go into town to check it out, he wanted to see what these so-called demons looked like! You could imagine his disappointment when he actually set eyes on the criminals once he reached the town square. They weren’t nearly as monstrous as he was thinking. Nope, instead they looked like old, tired folk, with faces and bodies covered in bruises and cuts. Lame. He looked on, disinterested. The announcement of their crimes went mostly unheard, but it was something the executioner said that really got Joey’s attention. He announced their names: Mikaela and Rohaan Dunst. “...Dunst?” Joey scoffed. It was an interesting coincidence, that he’d have the same last name as these two. As the two dropped from the gallows, and hung for all the town to see, Joey made his way back to the monastery, not giving much thought to that strange coincidence. ...That is, until he started making little rocks float by his fingertips one day. He couldn’t even tell how he was making it happen or why, but he knew he should knock it off before someone noticed and amassed a angry mob. He did pretty well at keeping it under wraps, and even felt he could suppress his newfound abilities. But, he was eighteen pushing nineteen by this point, and felt it was time to move away from the monastery. Though from there, he was so fast to fall in with the wrong crowds. Gangs, thieves, rogues, and other presumably violent ne’er-do-wells. He would do well to use his fists to find his way out of a scrap, rather than his abilities. He would skip from town to town, ever so slowly heading in the direction of the Academy. He would swipe small trinkets and currencies from oblivious tourists and unsuspecting lodgers. If he weren’t sleeping outside in the dirt, it would be in the warm bed of a maiden he’d manage to sweet talk. If he'd get lucky, some odd job would fall into his lap during his travels, maybe help move things off a freighter, or play as an extra hand in a shakedown. The more he stole from the humans, the more he began to loathe their ways. The lot of them were selfish, ignorant, and oh so dumb. He realized the hate against mages seemed mostly for no reason, and it angered him a bit. He managed to reach the Academy just a few weeks after celebrating his twenty-fifth birthday. He was surprised at how gracefully they let him in, that is, once he showed what little of his abilities he possessed. That was understandable. Living alongside the humans for so long, he could understand why it would be so hard to trust any of them. Yet, he would wonder if anyone would trust him.
5,132	134	114	1,657	181	Forget the damned rogues, its time to get out! Nataly was already thinking along those lines. Looking around the tavern as the flames continued to lick a black trail across the wooden booths and floorboards, options were somewhat limited. My fault for backing into a corner... The path to the front door was being rapidly consumed by the fire, so there was only one option that remained accessible. At least for the moment. Hope the chef wasn't a drinker... She bolted for the kitchen, hoping to escape out the back way into one of the alleys. The walls separating the serving area from what could be generously called the prep area were holding out long enough to keep the passageway clear. It was still hot in the kitchen, so Nataly made haste to get out. The back entrance would do nicely. Quickly exiting the building and shutting the door behind her, the Hydromancer moved away from the soon-to-be inferno and caught her breath, taking in some needed moisture from the surrounding air. The alleyway was dark and damp, and looked to be rather secluded, lit up only by the flames starting to poke out from the tavern's roof. "Well...where do I go now? Where is everyone?"	Name: Nataly Andrade Age: 26 Gender: Female Mastery: Hydromancer Specialty: Blizzard Rank: Adept Nataly is 5'7" and is a slight 116 lbs. Her northern roots show in her pale skin, contrasting with ice blue hair. The hair is cut short, left at about shoulder length and her have bangs bound with purple bands. She has eyes are deeper blue than her hair, and what could be considered a "cute" complexion. People are surprised by Nataly's slender frame because her robes are huge. They billow out from the sides and are bulky with fluff to protect from the cold that she conjures. Contrary to her skills, underneath the robes she dresses rather revealingly, to help deal with the heat of the southern lands the Academy sit on (relatively speaking). She has a pendant with a cut piece of blue amber on it that she'll often pull out to help her focus when conjuring up her icy magics. Equipment: Why carry weapons when concealable and untraceable ones can be crafted out of ice? Demeanor: Nataly has been rather bubbly as of late. The prospect of finally getting promoted from Adept to Weaver has lifted her spirits in recent months, and has seen a surge in her production in classes as well as her kindness towards her fellow Hydros. You do not want to get on her bad side though. If ever wronged in any way, it's not possible for Nataly to just let it go. History: The Andrades welcomed young Nataly into the family during a nasty blizzard in the Far Northern town of Cartaquilla, which serves as the main port for the Kingdom of Gran Helada. That might have served as a premonition for Nataly's future, but blizzards were a regular facet of life in the frozen lands. For Falco, a fisherman by trade, and Yoreli, a stay-at-home mother, the first daughter in the family after three boys was a welcome change and they doted the young girl from the moment she was placed in the buffered crib. The first sign that Nataly might be special in more ways than one manifested when she was eleven. Yoreli opened the door to Nataly's room one morning to find the girl playing in a layer of snow, a icy replica of her brother Jaime standing guard as she made snow angels. Yoreli scolded the child for leaving the window open and letting all the snow in but the window was closed, revealing the sunny day that Cartaquilla had been blessed with. As Yoreli looked up she could see the sprinkles of snowflakes falling from the ceiling, then dropped down to her daughter, still happily waving her arms without a care in the world. This revelation was met with fear and seclusion for Nataly, as Yoreli did her best to hide the witchcraft her daughter perpetrated. Falco paid no mind, usually out on trawling expeditions but Yoreli kept Nataly's powers a secret from her husband and he maintained a loving bond with his child. However, the snow that Nataly so willingly embraced would prove to be her father's downfall. Twelve hours after he left Cartaquilla on a day hunt for crab, one of the worst blizzards in a century struck. It paralyzed the region and trapped all seabound ships for days while the ice raged on. Worry grew with each passing day, and the prospect of Falco returning was fading. It got to the point that on the third day, Yoreli came out into the snow, searching for her sixteen year old daughter only to find Nataly standing in her pyjamas, tears frozen to her face, desperately trying to bend the snow away to open a path for her father to come back. She failed. Without Falco, Yoreli tried to look for other paths to taking care of her children. She learned about the Academy for people with Nataly's talents, so the girl was sent packing at age 17 for the far south. Nataly was slow to progress off the bat. She still was upset about her father and did not want to conjure up the substance that took him away in her mind, but eventually the icy walls tumbled down and she was starting to get the hang of controlling her gifts. She finally passed her Adept exam at 23, and has been working hard to try and progress up the ranks. Nataly wants to get to the point where she could control the snowstorms of her hometown and at least make sure other kids don't have to lose their parents like she did.
5,133	134	115	2,700	181	Still in pursuit of the thief and his bag of riches, Ling rounded another corner, Kei up and ready - Smack in the middle of the alley was a shadow, fists raised. It threw a quick jab at her as she stopped herself. Presumably the grey-black replica belonged to the rogue Nightshade. Ling had to admit, that wasn't something she'd seen coming; she'd expected tricks like the mage obscuring himself from view, or vanishing from one building's shadow into another to throw her off his trail. "That's how you wanna play this? Fine." Before the shadow could draw the pair of knives its owner had openly carried, Ling bullrushed it, slamming the front of Kei's metal stock directly into its chest. A two-handed blow with a blunt object was stronger, and more convenient, than the silver-inlaid knife she carried on her belt. Plus she would likely be outmatched in a knife fight; she mostly used her own blade for cutting ingredients and taking blood samples when she needed them. As the shadow staggered backwards from the impact, Ling pulled the trigger, firing a bolt directly into the shadow. At this range, she couldn't possibly miss. With no time to reload before it could recover - or so she assumed - she took another swing at it. Several sets of footsteps began to echo down the alleys behind her; one of them had a voice to match. "Well...where do I go now? Where is everyone?" "Nataly! Over here, give me a hand!"	Name: Ling the Silver Vial Age: 24 Gender: Female Mastery: Nightshade Specialty: Alchemist Rank: Adept Appearance: As Ling originates from the Dragon Empire of the eastern plains, she is Imperial in appearance and stature; she stands at five feet seven inches tall and is notably lightweight. Her black hair is always tied back in a short ponytail; no sense in letting it get everywhere. She has brown eyes, almost always behind protective glasses out of habit. Ling can usually be found wearing black pants and a simple black-and-white tunic with long sleeves (which are rolled up when working). Her tunics bear her personal emblem in silver thread: a potion vial with an Imperial dragon curled around it. When travelling, Ling will often don a wide straw hat and a pack to hold textbooks, journals, and similar bulky items. She supplements her outfit with a belt of pouches to hold potion ingredients and the tools to work them, and two sets of leather straps. The first is fitted with loops and pockets to hold potion vials, plus a sheath to hold a silver knife. The second keeps her weapon of choice secured on her back. Equipment: Aside from a bag of Imperial silver, her usual supplies of potion ingredients, and the tools a travelling Alchemist would normally need, Ling carries a custom-made crossbow and four rectangular boxes of bolts called autoquivers. The crossbow has several modifications from the standard model: its arms can fold inward for ease of transport; a lever on the side, when pulled, draws the string back without the need for extensive strength; and the stock's space for ammunition is twice the width of a standard crossbow. This last feature allows Ling to fire either standard-issue bolts from a fitted autoquiver, or potion vials that explode on impact, scattering their contents across a patch of land or group of opponents - or allies. Ling had her crossbow - which she fondly nicknames "Kei" - and its autoquivers custom-built for her purposes. Each autoquiver holds fifteen bolts, and bolts can be replaced at any blacksmith. One of her autoquivers is marked with a skull and crossbones, the classic indicator of poison, indicating she has applied poison to each bolt in that pack. Demeanour: Some paint the Nightshades as sullen, selfish individuals who seek only a means to achieve their own ends. Ling is almost the exact opposite. She's cheery and outgoing, willing to help others in a situation even if there's no up-front benefit to her. In this sense she might be considered a tiny bit naive. She does, however, have a particular devotion to her alchemy; while working, she enters a state of focus in which nothing outside of the immediate area matters until her task is complete. There's no sense in leaving a potion of any kind half-finished; as a result, Ling ensures she has everything in order before she starts work. Ling also makes a point of keeping notes on all of her standard-issue potions and experiments. She finds the latter much more interesting than the former: there's no sense of discovery in copying the methods used by the textbooks. She has already filled several journals with these notes, in addition to memorising all of the more commonly made recipes (some of which have her own unique spin on them). Despite being of the Nightshade mastery, Ling shies away from Sitheria, God of Darkness. Instead, she favours two others of the Council: Alainia, God of Water; and Loriot, God of Fire. Ling believes that Alainia and Loriot, while opposed in their Elements and her own, are the closest to Alchemy at its core. History: The Dragon Empire is a fascinating culture. There, the long, snakelike Imperial dragons are revered in almost any art form you would care to mention. Statuary, paintings, the written word, even architecture. Little is seen of the majestic creatures, as they are often hostile to human life and civilisation, yet at the same time the Empire reveres the dragons for their grace and beauty. Of course, Ling knows nothing of the Empire firsthand, as she was shipped overseas to another Academy at the age of three, when she was tested for magical potential like all Imperial children. There is no Academy in the Dragon Empire: in the year 73 AW, after the destruction of the first Imperial Academy - whether as a result of a spell gone awry or a deliberate act of arson was never found out - Emperor Jutai Fallen Leaf declared that his lands would play host to no mage. To this day, all Imperial children are tested for magical power at an early age. Those that show the signs are shipped elsewhere, and may apply for Imperial citizenship at the age of nineteen despite being confined to Academy life. The young Ling was part of a group of fifteen Imperial children sent to the Academy, filtered into the Nightshade mastery with two others. Her grasp on shadow magic was limited, while the other young Nightshades reveled in their new-found power. But she persisted, not wishing to fall behind. Eventually, at the age of twelve, the path of the Alchemist was opened to her, and she threw herself into it. Ling found alchemy intriguing; the chemical transmutation of simple, disparate ingredients into a greater, more powerful whole. She didn't care that the Masters had chosen to wait to see whether her skills would develop. This was where she would thrive, she told herself, pushing her limits on a regular basis. She caught up to her fellow students, those the same age who had chosen their paths before her, within six months, and didn't stop there. During her later teenage years, Ling volunteered for journeys outside the Academy. Whether the gathering of unusual ingredients that couldn't be found in the Academy's gardens, eliminating a group of bandits before they could attack a nearby town, or just providing an escort for a trip for younger mages, she wanted in on them. She wanted to see what life was like outside the walls. While she has never visited the Dragon Empire on one of these journeys - it is a long way - she studied the region and its culture during this time. At the age of eighteen, she accompanied a caravan of supplies leaving the Academy for the purposes of trade. She supported the caravan's guards for most of the trip there and back, fending off unwanted company. But while they fought with magical prowess, she hurled vials and passed restoratives to those who needed them. On the way back to the Academy, she ran out of potions, having only prepared a dozen beforehand. It was only after documenting her experiences that Ling realised that potions and poisons simply weren't enough to be properly supportive. She had to be able to cause some effective damage herself; otherwise, she was just another body the caravan guards needed to protect. So she began researching means of expanding upon the simple act of throwing potion vials to cause harm. There was a recent innovation in throwing short spears from a Metallic kid, that she jumped on and experimented with. While the technique was certainly effective for the javelin, it was almost useless for throwing potions. Too inaccurate without a proper guidance system. And then came the brainwave. A crossbow, modified ever so slightly to accept the small vials she used frequently. Ling, still at the rank of Mage at this time, went to a Metallic Weaver with a bag of coins in one hand and her notes in the other. The Weaver and the Mage spent the next few weeks on her customised weapon, ranging from sourcing the required materials to Ling providing several potion-related favours. But after a month of work, the crossbow was finally finished, and with a few extra modifications for ease of use. Calibrated perfectly for the throwing of vials with just enough force to catapult them a good distance, but not enough to shatter them when she pulled the trigger. As a bonus gift, the customised weapon, which Ling named "Kei", came with a set of long box-shaped containers of crossbow bolts, to be fitted atop the weapon. Submissions of high-strength potions for examination, as well as a short written paper on her vial-launching crossbow, earned Ling the rank of Adept soon after she turned nineteen. And with this promotion came her choice of title: she became Ling the Silver Vial. Surnames are uncommon in the Dragon Empire: instead, titles chosen by the individual are the norm. Whether a title comes before or after the given name is up to the individual, but a title will always have some reflection of the person choosing it. To give examples, an adventurer might call himself "Explorer Lun", while a Metallic Elemental might refer to himself as "Shang the Steel Hand". An Imperial citizen will usually choose his or her title at the age of nineteen, when Imperial law deems them a legal adult. But now that she had passed the first of her trials, Ling had even more work to do. So she got stuck into it, working late into the night to complete her projects and supplementing her midnight studies with restorative draughts to keep her awake and focused. It was here that shadow magic began to play a part in Ling's studies once more: the art of drawing a fragment of one's own shadow into a bottle to serve as an ingredient called an umbral reagent. A grasp on this particular alchemical discipline eluded Ling for several years, to the point where she began to experiment, finishing the textbook's recipes without the regents. Every one of them blew up in her laboratory. Without the use of umbral reagents, the Adept-tier recipes were unstable; they needed the refining qualities of the reagents to blend components that - as Ling learned the hard way - reacted badly to one another. Ling saw this only as another obstacle. She pushed herself harder, driving herself to find a way to either follow the textbook's methods, or create an alternative to the use of umbral reagents. She asked Weavers and historians, gathered the most odd or unusual of components, all in the name of solving this problem. Three years after becoming an Adept, she knew every Adept recipe back to front, but had little practical experience because she still struggled to bottle a tiny piece of her own shadow. But no matter what she tried, her experiments resulted in wasted efforts, not even acidic enough for throwing at something. Frustrated, Ling stormed out of the Academy with Kei on her back. She hitched a ride with a caravan to one of the nearby cities, seeking something - anything - she hadn't used yet. There was nothing. So, having spent the day searching with no result except a box of vials from a glassblower and a pack of crossbow bolts from the blacksmith - each traded for a trio of Ling's homebrew all-nighter tonics - she settled into a seat in the caravan with a profound sense of having wasted her time. Halfway back to the Academy, the caravan was ambushed. "You alright there, miss Ling? You're looking like a bee got under your hat." "I'm fine. Just keeping an eye on the road." Ling's response was terse and quiet. As always when travelling, she had Kei in her hands, an autoquiver in place. It was better to be safe than sorry, she reasoned, especially since she was the only mage on this trip. The caravan rounded a corner in the road, to find the path blocked by a makeshift barricade: logs, hastily jammed into place to hinder passage. The driver spat over the side. "Sons of... we've got company." Almost instantly, Ling was on her feet, her weapon up and aimed. Four bandits leaped from their hiding places, an assortment of weapons in hand. "Get behind me," was Ling's command to the driver before she pointed Kei at the closest of the ragtag bunch. "I am Ling the Silver Vial. If you have even a scrap of self-preservation, you will dismantle this barricade and allow us to pass." The lead bandit just chuckled. "Yer pretty words dun mean nuthin, girlie. Drop the weapon." "Oh, you want simpler words? Fine. The bolt in my crossbow is poisoned. One cut is all it takes." It was a bluff, but a carefully crafted one. The man flinched, but recovered his composure. "There's six of us an' one of you. Y'can't take us all on." Too dumb to count. Not worth the effort of negotiations. Ling pulled the trigger. The bolt hit him straight in the chest, like she'd trained. She didn't even watch the man fall, instead yanking on Kei's reset switch to reload before putting another shot into the second bandit. One of the outlaws tried to rush for the horse pulling the caravan; if they couldn't take the whole thing, they could at least cripple it, preventing it from moving. Out flashed a thrown vial, shattering on contact and dousing the rogue in acidic fluid. He flailed away from the caravan, screaming as the poison ate at his face. An arrow, crudely made, punched through the side of the caravan. Ling looked up to find the last bandit standing on a thick branch, carrying a bow and quiver. The second shot grazed the back of her hand; it was Ling's turn to flinch as she felt blood seep out from her skin. But she raised Kei and launched a series of bolts upward, peppering the archer's perch and knocking him out of his vantage point. He was dead before he hit the ground. And just like that, it was over. The one that Ling had hit with the acidic vial remained only in cries, as he had dashed away to find water. Ling spun to the inside of the caravan. "Is everyone all right?" The caravan master, two young boys and a lady in a sunhat were hiding, trying to make themselves as small as possible. Breathing slowly to calm herself, Ling collapsed Kei's arms and stowed the crossbow on her back, hands open to show she meant no harm. Even an Alchemist was still a mage. "It's okay, they're gone. The fighting's over." "A-Are you sure, miss?" "Positive." "If you're certain... hell's gates, miss Ling, you did quite the number on them," the caravan master murmured as he peered out at the scene. He jumped down to check on the horse, which was skittish and restless. "I didn't hit him with the vial, did I?" she queried. "No, no, he seems fine." "Oh, good. Last thing we needed was a panicked horse." "Last thing we needed was this damn ambush. If'n you can give a hand with getting these logs out the way, that'd be aces. C'mon, boys, time to earn your keep." The man beckoned to the two lads in the caravan, who jumped out and hurried to help him with the barricade. Ling hesitated, however, taking the time to examine her hand, which had taken a glancing blow. There was no sign of poison affecting the area, which was always a good sign. However, as she raised her hand to study it in the light, the entire injury turned solid grey, even the thin trail of blood. Ling dabbed at the viscous liquid with one finger; it remained the same grey-black colour. Ling could feel the presence of her shadow magic, stronger than ever. Inspired, she hurried to her space in the caravan, drew a vial from its box and collected the shed blood within. The glass and its contents seemed to glow in her hand. Reagent magic will become easier over time as you get used to touching your shadow. Ordinarily an intangible presence, the spell twists your shadow's properties, changing it, allowing you to gather it in your hand as you would do with mundane water. When the preparation stage is complete, pour a handful into a vial and allow it to sit for a few minutes until it turns darker and thicker, similar to blood. The paragraph on umbral reagents came to Ling's mind easily. The vial's contents were almost an exact match to the accompanying sketch. But she hadn't done as the textbook prescribed. It was almost involuntary, like her shadow magic was called to the spilled blood, mixing of its own accord. Ling bested the bandits easily, thanks to Kei and an acidic vial. When the trip was concluded and Ling was safe in her laboratory, she drew out a vial of blood she had collected after the fight and examined it. It bore all the physical signs of an umbral reagent, as described in her textbooks, but there was only one way to be sure it had the alchemical properties of one. Ling quickly prepared an introductory Adept potion for regeneration of injuries. Two bright red flasks, whipped up within minutes... all that remained was to blend the two together in the same flask as the reagent, according to the book. So she tipped her vial of infused blood into a flask, lit a fire beneath it, and tentatively poured the other two in with the grey, holding her breath all the while. The three liquids began to bubble and merge, aided by Ling's tentative stirring, then the potion turned a bold, dark red, unlike the two from a minute before. No explosion. No shattering of glass. Ling had found the key, her way to progress as an Adept. Her first priority, however, was to inform the Masters, to ensure she wasn't breaking any rules or wouldn't accidentally poison anyone with her blood-fueled potions. The ensuing discussion was intense, thorough, and more than a little scary; she was called on to repeat the creation under a Master's scrutiny. She managed it, though, and didn't poison him in the process. That was always good; there was often a chance that a healing potion, even one made to the letter, could turn out to be lethal. And since she was dealing with previously uncharted territory, anything could happen. But nothing did. The shadow-infused blood acted in the exact same manner as an ordinary umbral reagent. After another hour of talks with the Masters, Ling was cleared to continue her work in this unusual fashion. And continue she did. She took to carrying a knife to draw her own blood for her reagents. Coaxing shadow magic into the shed blood quickly became easier, aided by restoratives and regeneration potions, but she couldn't draw too much too quickly or she would have to wait even longer to resume her work. She depended on being in some degree of physical fitness, to ensure she could heal quickly from the cuts she inflicted on herself. Thankfully, any scars she might have gathered were quickly healed by her own creations. And occasionally an Illuminate healer, in the first stages of her experiments when she cut too deep and caused more pain than she had intended. After several years of further study, Ling is slowly working her way through her textbooks. She still relies on drawing blood to produce her reagents instead of just drawing scraps of shadow directly. While she understands the Masters' concern for her variation on the core practices, she still feels a tiny bit held back by their observations. Her method is unusual, but just as effective as the standard procedure. But she brushes it off, and tries to be her usual bright and cheery self; the Masters do what they do for a reason.
5,134	134	116	1,657	181	Nataly! Over here, give me a hand! The familiar voice caused Nataly to turn her head towards the source. "Ling?" Moving towards the source, she found the Nightshade that had been so helpful to her on the ship locked in battle with...another shadow? It had to be another Nightshade but where were they? It didn't matter at the moment as the darkness was causing Ling enough problems as it was. Stepping away from the burning building, into the darker, damper portions of the alleyway, Nataly attempted to reconstruct what she had going for her inside the bar, pulling whatever moisture she could from the air to coat her fists with a thick sheet of ice, spikes poking out of where her knuckles would be. It was moving much quicker now then when she was fighting the flames and she had a hands worth in a matter of seconds. As she approached the scuffle, she hesitated for a moment. "Can I even hit..." Her question was answered with Ling's swing. "Well she would know..." Nataly charged into the fray, fists drawn, still adding ice to her makeshift boxing gloves as she attempted to cut off any dodging attempts with some ice spikes to the shadow combatant.	Name: Nataly Andrade Age: 26 Gender: Female Mastery: Hydromancer Specialty: Blizzard Rank: Adept Nataly is 5'7" and is a slight 116 lbs. Her northern roots show in her pale skin, contrasting with ice blue hair. The hair is cut short, left at about shoulder length and her have bangs bound with purple bands. She has eyes are deeper blue than her hair, and what could be considered a "cute" complexion. People are surprised by Nataly's slender frame because her robes are huge. They billow out from the sides and are bulky with fluff to protect from the cold that she conjures. Contrary to her skills, underneath the robes she dresses rather revealingly, to help deal with the heat of the southern lands the Academy sit on (relatively speaking). She has a pendant with a cut piece of blue amber on it that she'll often pull out to help her focus when conjuring up her icy magics. Equipment: Why carry weapons when concealable and untraceable ones can be crafted out of ice? Demeanor: Nataly has been rather bubbly as of late. The prospect of finally getting promoted from Adept to Weaver has lifted her spirits in recent months, and has seen a surge in her production in classes as well as her kindness towards her fellow Hydros. You do not want to get on her bad side though. If ever wronged in any way, it's not possible for Nataly to just let it go. History: The Andrades welcomed young Nataly into the family during a nasty blizzard in the Far Northern town of Cartaquilla, which serves as the main port for the Kingdom of Gran Helada. That might have served as a premonition for Nataly's future, but blizzards were a regular facet of life in the frozen lands. For Falco, a fisherman by trade, and Yoreli, a stay-at-home mother, the first daughter in the family after three boys was a welcome change and they doted the young girl from the moment she was placed in the buffered crib. The first sign that Nataly might be special in more ways than one manifested when she was eleven. Yoreli opened the door to Nataly's room one morning to find the girl playing in a layer of snow, a icy replica of her brother Jaime standing guard as she made snow angels. Yoreli scolded the child for leaving the window open and letting all the snow in but the window was closed, revealing the sunny day that Cartaquilla had been blessed with. As Yoreli looked up she could see the sprinkles of snowflakes falling from the ceiling, then dropped down to her daughter, still happily waving her arms without a care in the world. This revelation was met with fear and seclusion for Nataly, as Yoreli did her best to hide the witchcraft her daughter perpetrated. Falco paid no mind, usually out on trawling expeditions but Yoreli kept Nataly's powers a secret from her husband and he maintained a loving bond with his child. However, the snow that Nataly so willingly embraced would prove to be her father's downfall. Twelve hours after he left Cartaquilla on a day hunt for crab, one of the worst blizzards in a century struck. It paralyzed the region and trapped all seabound ships for days while the ice raged on. Worry grew with each passing day, and the prospect of Falco returning was fading. It got to the point that on the third day, Yoreli came out into the snow, searching for her sixteen year old daughter only to find Nataly standing in her pyjamas, tears frozen to her face, desperately trying to bend the snow away to open a path for her father to come back. She failed. Without Falco, Yoreli tried to look for other paths to taking care of her children. She learned about the Academy for people with Nataly's talents, so the girl was sent packing at age 17 for the far south. Nataly was slow to progress off the bat. She still was upset about her father and did not want to conjure up the substance that took him away in her mind, but eventually the icy walls tumbled down and she was starting to get the hang of controlling her gifts. She finally passed her Adept exam at 23, and has been working hard to try and progress up the ranks. Nataly wants to get to the point where she could control the snowstorms of her hometown and at least make sure other kids don't have to lose their parents like she did.
5,135	134	117	2,579	89	Raven looked about quickly, trying to make sure that everyone managed to run it out of there, and cursed when he realized not all had made it out. A disaster of larger proportions that he really did not want to deal with at this time. However, as Vana turned to run Raven made to follow, as there was still a chance to catch some of the mages who had escaped the other way. Hopefully he was not too late as he chased Vana, who turned a corner and came upon Nataly and Ling who were dispatching of the shadow. The shadow that Ling had shoved back, and fired her crossbow met its mark into the shadow, causing the creature to stumble backwards stunned from the sudden outburst. Then the shards of ice slammed into the creature causing it to fade off into dust in front of the mages. "Not....bad." Raven said as he ran onward to the mages to look about. "Though, where is the mage behind them?" Though after saying that, they were greeted by the wall smashed down by the mages who had still sat inside. Meanwhile, the mages inside had no intention of following the others out the front entrance, considering it a bad idea to chase those who would pose the biggest threat. With her one good hand, an explosive wave of fire was used to blast a hole open in a wall, and the renegade mages began to make their escape. The man of earth kept the tail being likely the slowest and best equipped in keeping any chasing individuals off of them. As they began moving out of the burning bar, they moved into the back of the bar ripping apart the wall in the meantime. They happened upon the mages Ling and Nataly. The stone mage regarded the mages that they had come upon for a moment, with Raven making his way forward as well. "Mages, let us....ignore this little transgression. You turn around, forget you saw us, and we do the same. Alright?" The stone mage rumbled, with the fire mage having more fire in her eyes, but having an eye out for apparently someone else, with the ice mage just helping the woman of fire go along. They were intending to get away from the burning bar and wander off into the night. The rest of the town was either in the process of waking up to knowing that the bar was on fire, or was in the process of trying to escape the said fire screaming "MAGICS!" or "WITCHES!" or other such curses. That meant that the mages who had gone out the front entrance were drawing a bit of a crowd. "Goddamned blazes going on out here? What happened to the bar?" A half awake, slightly armored guard shouted, with an axe pulled out and only wearing a breastplate that had been hastily thrown on. It was obvious that this was not a good time for him, nor most of the town as they came with bows, knives, and whatever else as the bar was already written off as a lost cause with the flames quickly taking over whatever it wanted.	The vagueness isn't a bad problem, but there are two concerns, both a bit related to one another. Her age and her rank. Age comes into play because she is the youngest Weaver by a couple years, which wouldn't be the worst of problems except it seems that her metal abilities showed up later when working as a blacksmith. Since we already have 3 Weavers who are supposed to be in play, I am a little hesitant to take on a vague 4th. If you would be OK just dropping to Adept or Mage that would solve the age problem pretty easily. Otherwise, it reads alright other than that, so if you would make a decision regarding that I think it would be all set! Congrats on the dog hunt, and happy to hear you got them back.
5,136	134	118	2,700	181	Not... bad. Though, where is the mage behind them? "He ran that way, Commander, through the alleys. We may have lost him by now. He summoned that shadow to cover his escape." Ling pointed behind her as she spoke. No sooner had she spoken than another blast tore through the wall behind the Commander, with the rogue mages stepping out of the wrecked tavern. "Mages, let us... ignore this little transgression. You turn around, forget you saw us, and we do the same. Alright?" Transgression? These renegades seemed to think they had some form of authority. They were bullies and thieves, plain and simple. And now they wanted an easy way out? Ling wasn't about to let them go scot-free. That was why she had chased after the Nightshade, after all: she had intended to recover the bag of valuables. "Not so fast." She reloaded Kei and raised the crossbow to point at the stone mage, him being the most obvious threat. "Before we even think about the possibility of letting you lot just walk away, you guys can call your shadow-mage buddy back here. Once he hands over that bag of gold and gems he prizes so much, then we'll talk about letting you go. Unless someone else thinks we shouldn't take that chance?" She glanced towards each of Nataly, Vanahara and Commander Hayes as she posed that question. If the injured Pyromancer was any indicator, the Academy-trained mages had come out better off in the fight. Now was the time to press the advantage that Ling perceived, and give the rogues the option of negotiating their surrender. At the same time, though, she wondered if she had stepped a little beyond her station. Commander Hayes was in charge, after all, and Ling was second-guessing herself, thinking that she might have spoken out of turn.	Name: Ling the Silver Vial Age: 24 Gender: Female Mastery: Nightshade Specialty: Alchemist Rank: Adept Appearance: As Ling originates from the Dragon Empire of the eastern plains, she is Imperial in appearance and stature; she stands at five feet seven inches tall and is notably lightweight. Her black hair is always tied back in a short ponytail; no sense in letting it get everywhere. She has brown eyes, almost always behind protective glasses out of habit. Ling can usually be found wearing black pants and a simple black-and-white tunic with long sleeves (which are rolled up when working). Her tunics bear her personal emblem in silver thread: a potion vial with an Imperial dragon curled around it. When travelling, Ling will often don a wide straw hat and a pack to hold textbooks, journals, and similar bulky items. She supplements her outfit with a belt of pouches to hold potion ingredients and the tools to work them, and two sets of leather straps. The first is fitted with loops and pockets to hold potion vials, plus a sheath to hold a silver knife. The second keeps her weapon of choice secured on her back. Equipment: Aside from a bag of Imperial silver, her usual supplies of potion ingredients, and the tools a travelling Alchemist would normally need, Ling carries a custom-made crossbow and four rectangular boxes of bolts called autoquivers. The crossbow has several modifications from the standard model: its arms can fold inward for ease of transport; a lever on the side, when pulled, draws the string back without the need for extensive strength; and the stock's space for ammunition is twice the width of a standard crossbow. This last feature allows Ling to fire either standard-issue bolts from a fitted autoquiver, or potion vials that explode on impact, scattering their contents across a patch of land or group of opponents - or allies. Ling had her crossbow - which she fondly nicknames "Kei" - and its autoquivers custom-built for her purposes. Each autoquiver holds fifteen bolts, and bolts can be replaced at any blacksmith. One of her autoquivers is marked with a skull and crossbones, the classic indicator of poison, indicating she has applied poison to each bolt in that pack. Demeanour: Some paint the Nightshades as sullen, selfish individuals who seek only a means to achieve their own ends. Ling is almost the exact opposite. She's cheery and outgoing, willing to help others in a situation even if there's no up-front benefit to her. In this sense she might be considered a tiny bit naive. She does, however, have a particular devotion to her alchemy; while working, she enters a state of focus in which nothing outside of the immediate area matters until her task is complete. There's no sense in leaving a potion of any kind half-finished; as a result, Ling ensures she has everything in order before she starts work. Ling also makes a point of keeping notes on all of her standard-issue potions and experiments. She finds the latter much more interesting than the former: there's no sense of discovery in copying the methods used by the textbooks. She has already filled several journals with these notes, in addition to memorising all of the more commonly made recipes (some of which have her own unique spin on them). Despite being of the Nightshade mastery, Ling shies away from Sitheria, God of Darkness. Instead, she favours two others of the Council: Alainia, God of Water; and Loriot, God of Fire. Ling believes that Alainia and Loriot, while opposed in their Elements and her own, are the closest to Alchemy at its core. History: The Dragon Empire is a fascinating culture. There, the long, snakelike Imperial dragons are revered in almost any art form you would care to mention. Statuary, paintings, the written word, even architecture. Little is seen of the majestic creatures, as they are often hostile to human life and civilisation, yet at the same time the Empire reveres the dragons for their grace and beauty. Of course, Ling knows nothing of the Empire firsthand, as she was shipped overseas to another Academy at the age of three, when she was tested for magical potential like all Imperial children. There is no Academy in the Dragon Empire: in the year 73 AW, after the destruction of the first Imperial Academy - whether as a result of a spell gone awry or a deliberate act of arson was never found out - Emperor Jutai Fallen Leaf declared that his lands would play host to no mage. To this day, all Imperial children are tested for magical power at an early age. Those that show the signs are shipped elsewhere, and may apply for Imperial citizenship at the age of nineteen despite being confined to Academy life. The young Ling was part of a group of fifteen Imperial children sent to the Academy, filtered into the Nightshade mastery with two others. Her grasp on shadow magic was limited, while the other young Nightshades reveled in their new-found power. But she persisted, not wishing to fall behind. Eventually, at the age of twelve, the path of the Alchemist was opened to her, and she threw herself into it. Ling found alchemy intriguing; the chemical transmutation of simple, disparate ingredients into a greater, more powerful whole. She didn't care that the Masters had chosen to wait to see whether her skills would develop. This was where she would thrive, she told herself, pushing her limits on a regular basis. She caught up to her fellow students, those the same age who had chosen their paths before her, within six months, and didn't stop there. During her later teenage years, Ling volunteered for journeys outside the Academy. Whether the gathering of unusual ingredients that couldn't be found in the Academy's gardens, eliminating a group of bandits before they could attack a nearby town, or just providing an escort for a trip for younger mages, she wanted in on them. She wanted to see what life was like outside the walls. While she has never visited the Dragon Empire on one of these journeys - it is a long way - she studied the region and its culture during this time. At the age of eighteen, she accompanied a caravan of supplies leaving the Academy for the purposes of trade. She supported the caravan's guards for most of the trip there and back, fending off unwanted company. But while they fought with magical prowess, she hurled vials and passed restoratives to those who needed them. On the way back to the Academy, she ran out of potions, having only prepared a dozen beforehand. It was only after documenting her experiences that Ling realised that potions and poisons simply weren't enough to be properly supportive. She had to be able to cause some effective damage herself; otherwise, she was just another body the caravan guards needed to protect. So she began researching means of expanding upon the simple act of throwing potion vials to cause harm. There was a recent innovation in throwing short spears from a Metallic kid, that she jumped on and experimented with. While the technique was certainly effective for the javelin, it was almost useless for throwing potions. Too inaccurate without a proper guidance system. And then came the brainwave. A crossbow, modified ever so slightly to accept the small vials she used frequently. Ling, still at the rank of Mage at this time, went to a Metallic Weaver with a bag of coins in one hand and her notes in the other. The Weaver and the Mage spent the next few weeks on her customised weapon, ranging from sourcing the required materials to Ling providing several potion-related favours. But after a month of work, the crossbow was finally finished, and with a few extra modifications for ease of use. Calibrated perfectly for the throwing of vials with just enough force to catapult them a good distance, but not enough to shatter them when she pulled the trigger. As a bonus gift, the customised weapon, which Ling named "Kei", came with a set of long box-shaped containers of crossbow bolts, to be fitted atop the weapon. Submissions of high-strength potions for examination, as well as a short written paper on her vial-launching crossbow, earned Ling the rank of Adept soon after she turned nineteen. And with this promotion came her choice of title: she became Ling the Silver Vial. Surnames are uncommon in the Dragon Empire: instead, titles chosen by the individual are the norm. Whether a title comes before or after the given name is up to the individual, but a title will always have some reflection of the person choosing it. To give examples, an adventurer might call himself "Explorer Lun", while a Metallic Elemental might refer to himself as "Shang the Steel Hand". An Imperial citizen will usually choose his or her title at the age of nineteen, when Imperial law deems them a legal adult. But now that she had passed the first of her trials, Ling had even more work to do. So she got stuck into it, working late into the night to complete her projects and supplementing her midnight studies with restorative draughts to keep her awake and focused. It was here that shadow magic began to play a part in Ling's studies once more: the art of drawing a fragment of one's own shadow into a bottle to serve as an ingredient called an umbral reagent. A grasp on this particular alchemical discipline eluded Ling for several years, to the point where she began to experiment, finishing the textbook's recipes without the regents. Every one of them blew up in her laboratory. Without the use of umbral reagents, the Adept-tier recipes were unstable; they needed the refining qualities of the reagents to blend components that - as Ling learned the hard way - reacted badly to one another. Ling saw this only as another obstacle. She pushed herself harder, driving herself to find a way to either follow the textbook's methods, or create an alternative to the use of umbral reagents. She asked Weavers and historians, gathered the most odd or unusual of components, all in the name of solving this problem. Three years after becoming an Adept, she knew every Adept recipe back to front, but had little practical experience because she still struggled to bottle a tiny piece of her own shadow. But no matter what she tried, her experiments resulted in wasted efforts, not even acidic enough for throwing at something. Frustrated, Ling stormed out of the Academy with Kei on her back. She hitched a ride with a caravan to one of the nearby cities, seeking something - anything - she hadn't used yet. There was nothing. So, having spent the day searching with no result except a box of vials from a glassblower and a pack of crossbow bolts from the blacksmith - each traded for a trio of Ling's homebrew all-nighter tonics - she settled into a seat in the caravan with a profound sense of having wasted her time. Halfway back to the Academy, the caravan was ambushed. "You alright there, miss Ling? You're looking like a bee got under your hat." "I'm fine. Just keeping an eye on the road." Ling's response was terse and quiet. As always when travelling, she had Kei in her hands, an autoquiver in place. It was better to be safe than sorry, she reasoned, especially since she was the only mage on this trip. The caravan rounded a corner in the road, to find the path blocked by a makeshift barricade: logs, hastily jammed into place to hinder passage. The driver spat over the side. "Sons of... we've got company." Almost instantly, Ling was on her feet, her weapon up and aimed. Four bandits leaped from their hiding places, an assortment of weapons in hand. "Get behind me," was Ling's command to the driver before she pointed Kei at the closest of the ragtag bunch. "I am Ling the Silver Vial. If you have even a scrap of self-preservation, you will dismantle this barricade and allow us to pass." The lead bandit just chuckled. "Yer pretty words dun mean nuthin, girlie. Drop the weapon." "Oh, you want simpler words? Fine. The bolt in my crossbow is poisoned. One cut is all it takes." It was a bluff, but a carefully crafted one. The man flinched, but recovered his composure. "There's six of us an' one of you. Y'can't take us all on." Too dumb to count. Not worth the effort of negotiations. Ling pulled the trigger. The bolt hit him straight in the chest, like she'd trained. She didn't even watch the man fall, instead yanking on Kei's reset switch to reload before putting another shot into the second bandit. One of the outlaws tried to rush for the horse pulling the caravan; if they couldn't take the whole thing, they could at least cripple it, preventing it from moving. Out flashed a thrown vial, shattering on contact and dousing the rogue in acidic fluid. He flailed away from the caravan, screaming as the poison ate at his face. An arrow, crudely made, punched through the side of the caravan. Ling looked up to find the last bandit standing on a thick branch, carrying a bow and quiver. The second shot grazed the back of her hand; it was Ling's turn to flinch as she felt blood seep out from her skin. But she raised Kei and launched a series of bolts upward, peppering the archer's perch and knocking him out of his vantage point. He was dead before he hit the ground. And just like that, it was over. The one that Ling had hit with the acidic vial remained only in cries, as he had dashed away to find water. Ling spun to the inside of the caravan. "Is everyone all right?" The caravan master, two young boys and a lady in a sunhat were hiding, trying to make themselves as small as possible. Breathing slowly to calm herself, Ling collapsed Kei's arms and stowed the crossbow on her back, hands open to show she meant no harm. Even an Alchemist was still a mage. "It's okay, they're gone. The fighting's over." "A-Are you sure, miss?" "Positive." "If you're certain... hell's gates, miss Ling, you did quite the number on them," the caravan master murmured as he peered out at the scene. He jumped down to check on the horse, which was skittish and restless. "I didn't hit him with the vial, did I?" she queried. "No, no, he seems fine." "Oh, good. Last thing we needed was a panicked horse." "Last thing we needed was this damn ambush. If'n you can give a hand with getting these logs out the way, that'd be aces. C'mon, boys, time to earn your keep." The man beckoned to the two lads in the caravan, who jumped out and hurried to help him with the barricade. Ling hesitated, however, taking the time to examine her hand, which had taken a glancing blow. There was no sign of poison affecting the area, which was always a good sign. However, as she raised her hand to study it in the light, the entire injury turned solid grey, even the thin trail of blood. Ling dabbed at the viscous liquid with one finger; it remained the same grey-black colour. Ling could feel the presence of her shadow magic, stronger than ever. Inspired, she hurried to her space in the caravan, drew a vial from its box and collected the shed blood within. The glass and its contents seemed to glow in her hand. Reagent magic will become easier over time as you get used to touching your shadow. Ordinarily an intangible presence, the spell twists your shadow's properties, changing it, allowing you to gather it in your hand as you would do with mundane water. When the preparation stage is complete, pour a handful into a vial and allow it to sit for a few minutes until it turns darker and thicker, similar to blood. The paragraph on umbral reagents came to Ling's mind easily. The vial's contents were almost an exact match to the accompanying sketch. But she hadn't done as the textbook prescribed. It was almost involuntary, like her shadow magic was called to the spilled blood, mixing of its own accord. Ling bested the bandits easily, thanks to Kei and an acidic vial. When the trip was concluded and Ling was safe in her laboratory, she drew out a vial of blood she had collected after the fight and examined it. It bore all the physical signs of an umbral reagent, as described in her textbooks, but there was only one way to be sure it had the alchemical properties of one. Ling quickly prepared an introductory Adept potion for regeneration of injuries. Two bright red flasks, whipped up within minutes... all that remained was to blend the two together in the same flask as the reagent, according to the book. So she tipped her vial of infused blood into a flask, lit a fire beneath it, and tentatively poured the other two in with the grey, holding her breath all the while. The three liquids began to bubble and merge, aided by Ling's tentative stirring, then the potion turned a bold, dark red, unlike the two from a minute before. No explosion. No shattering of glass. Ling had found the key, her way to progress as an Adept. Her first priority, however, was to inform the Masters, to ensure she wasn't breaking any rules or wouldn't accidentally poison anyone with her blood-fueled potions. The ensuing discussion was intense, thorough, and more than a little scary; she was called on to repeat the creation under a Master's scrutiny. She managed it, though, and didn't poison him in the process. That was always good; there was often a chance that a healing potion, even one made to the letter, could turn out to be lethal. And since she was dealing with previously uncharted territory, anything could happen. But nothing did. The shadow-infused blood acted in the exact same manner as an ordinary umbral reagent. After another hour of talks with the Masters, Ling was cleared to continue her work in this unusual fashion. And continue she did. She took to carrying a knife to draw her own blood for her reagents. Coaxing shadow magic into the shed blood quickly became easier, aided by restoratives and regeneration potions, but she couldn't draw too much too quickly or she would have to wait even longer to resume her work. She depended on being in some degree of physical fitness, to ensure she could heal quickly from the cuts she inflicted on herself. Thankfully, any scars she might have gathered were quickly healed by her own creations. And occasionally an Illuminate healer, in the first stages of her experiments when she cut too deep and caused more pain than she had intended. After several years of further study, Ling is slowly working her way through her textbooks. She still relies on drawing blood to produce her reagents instead of just drawing scraps of shadow directly. While she understands the Masters' concern for her variation on the core practices, she still feels a tiny bit held back by their observations. Her method is unusual, but just as effective as the standard procedure. But she brushes it off, and tries to be her usual bright and cheery self; the Masters do what they do for a reason.
5,137	134	119	1,607	80	Drew stood there and quickly realized what was going on. "Oh hell..." he muttered, holding back a string of swears. But he realized this situation could still be salvaged. It was unlikely, but it wasn't like any of them had seen him performing magic. Ling had gone one way and the other hostile mages had gone the other way. "Okay, okay, think about it..." he muttered. He turned and put on his best imitation of a panicked face. He stood up and shouted as loud as he could so the others could hear him. "YES. THERE WERE HOSTILE MAGES IN THERE. A FIRE ONE, AN EARTH MAGE, A SHADOW USER AND SOME PERSON WHO USED ICE." he knew they would be alerted, but he wanted his companions to know there were unfriendly people outside waiting for them. "THEY WENT THAT WAY!" he said, pointing to the direction the others were escaping in. He knew there were so many ways this could go wrong. But it was that or stand there and risk being chosen as the target of the mob's wrath. Come on guys... show some subtlety. He hoped the others helping Ling were having better luck. If he could just get the mob away from here, they might be able to slip away. "Come on! We can cut them off if we're quick!" he said in a panicked tone to the guard, trying to appeal to his sensibilities as a leader.	Name: Drew Hidalgo Age: 27 Gender: Male Mastery: Hydromancer Specialty: Storms Rank: Adept Appearance: Drew is tall, but he tends to slouch or hunch over, so he appears to be average height. He wears a simple light grey robe with a hood (though he hardly wears the hood). He has pale skin, medium-length brown hair, a constant 5 o’clock shadow that he can’t seem to get rid of or get to grow further, and green eyes that tend to be half-closed all the time. Between the slumping and the closed eyes, Drew constantly looks like he’s asleep. Equipment: nothing beyond the essentials. Demeanor: Not terribly sociable, but not a brooding loner. He’ll stay with groups and chime in occasionally, but he usually just sits back and listens. Willing to let others know what he thinks, but he does try to have some tact about it. Has an odd distrust of Nightshades. Hard to earn his trust, but he’ll trust you almost unconditionally once you earn it. History: Compared to most, some would say Drew’s upbringing was dull. He was born to parents who were well off, even if they weren't actually wealthy. His powers manifested at the earliest point possible and his parents sent him off to the academy with little complications. They were very supportive and tried to stay in contact with him whenever they could, though their jobs as nomadic merchants meant they had much to deal with. Drew would discover he had a talent for some of the more niche parts of the path of the Storm, though the basics of the Hydromancer were harder for him to grasp. Though he had trouble making water solid and even making great quantities of liquid, he was very skilled at manipulating vapors, forming mists and clouds and even generating and controlling the element of lightning. He could still make rain and make liquid from gas, but his expertise was in the winds, not the waters. Time would pass and he’d do above average in his classes. He wasn’t a social butterfly, but he wasn’t a pariah either. He made friends and even had a few relationships, but they all just seemed to drift away over time, and neither side really strove to maintain contact. He became just another face in the crowd, the guy who sat at the back of the classrooms and sat around his living quarters quietly. The one constant companion he had was his little sister, Fei, who was discovered to be an elemental years after Drew was enrolled. She looked up to him and thinks of him as the smartest, coolest mage in the academy (especially because of his skills making lightning). Drew never tried to impress anyone at the academy, never giving in to any dares or listening to the instructor’s wishes for him to better himself or “live up to his true potential”. He does well in his classes, had his specialties, so he thought that was enough. But deep down, he does try to be the mage his sister sees him as. It’s why he finally got the motivation to finally try and get himself promoted to weaver (he was considered, and good words were said, but he was ultimately rejected) and why he’s going on this journey.
5,138	134	120	1,657	181	Mages, let us....ignore this little transgression. You turn around, forget you saw us, and we do the same. Alright? It sounded like a sweet deal to Nataly. Considering all the destruction and trouble these three caused on this random excursion, letting everyone just walk away from it all was a promising prospect. The fire woman looked like she didn't agree with it, but her fellow ice wielder appeared to want out of the area. She could abide by that. "Not so fast." Ling had other thoughts though. She wanted the gold and the goods back from the shadow man who had caused the trouble in the alley way. Fair enough. For the Nightshade to show themselves wasn't an unreasonable proposition. Prevent back stabbings and all that. Nataly kept her ice gauntlets on and in fist mode. "I'm with my friend here. Shadow man has to show himself first. I don't need to be stabbed in the back today."	Name: Nataly Andrade Age: 26 Gender: Female Mastery: Hydromancer Specialty: Blizzard Rank: Adept Nataly is 5'7" and is a slight 116 lbs. Her northern roots show in her pale skin, contrasting with ice blue hair. The hair is cut short, left at about shoulder length and her have bangs bound with purple bands. She has eyes are deeper blue than her hair, and what could be considered a "cute" complexion. People are surprised by Nataly's slender frame because her robes are huge. They billow out from the sides and are bulky with fluff to protect from the cold that she conjures. Contrary to her skills, underneath the robes she dresses rather revealingly, to help deal with the heat of the southern lands the Academy sit on (relatively speaking). She has a pendant with a cut piece of blue amber on it that she'll often pull out to help her focus when conjuring up her icy magics. Equipment: Why carry weapons when concealable and untraceable ones can be crafted out of ice? Demeanor: Nataly has been rather bubbly as of late. The prospect of finally getting promoted from Adept to Weaver has lifted her spirits in recent months, and has seen a surge in her production in classes as well as her kindness towards her fellow Hydros. You do not want to get on her bad side though. If ever wronged in any way, it's not possible for Nataly to just let it go. History: The Andrades welcomed young Nataly into the family during a nasty blizzard in the Far Northern town of Cartaquilla, which serves as the main port for the Kingdom of Gran Helada. That might have served as a premonition for Nataly's future, but blizzards were a regular facet of life in the frozen lands. For Falco, a fisherman by trade, and Yoreli, a stay-at-home mother, the first daughter in the family after three boys was a welcome change and they doted the young girl from the moment she was placed in the buffered crib. The first sign that Nataly might be special in more ways than one manifested when she was eleven. Yoreli opened the door to Nataly's room one morning to find the girl playing in a layer of snow, a icy replica of her brother Jaime standing guard as she made snow angels. Yoreli scolded the child for leaving the window open and letting all the snow in but the window was closed, revealing the sunny day that Cartaquilla had been blessed with. As Yoreli looked up she could see the sprinkles of snowflakes falling from the ceiling, then dropped down to her daughter, still happily waving her arms without a care in the world. This revelation was met with fear and seclusion for Nataly, as Yoreli did her best to hide the witchcraft her daughter perpetrated. Falco paid no mind, usually out on trawling expeditions but Yoreli kept Nataly's powers a secret from her husband and he maintained a loving bond with his child. However, the snow that Nataly so willingly embraced would prove to be her father's downfall. Twelve hours after he left Cartaquilla on a day hunt for crab, one of the worst blizzards in a century struck. It paralyzed the region and trapped all seabound ships for days while the ice raged on. Worry grew with each passing day, and the prospect of Falco returning was fading. It got to the point that on the third day, Yoreli came out into the snow, searching for her sixteen year old daughter only to find Nataly standing in her pyjamas, tears frozen to her face, desperately trying to bend the snow away to open a path for her father to come back. She failed. Without Falco, Yoreli tried to look for other paths to taking care of her children. She learned about the Academy for people with Nataly's talents, so the girl was sent packing at age 17 for the far south. Nataly was slow to progress off the bat. She still was upset about her father and did not want to conjure up the substance that took him away in her mind, but eventually the icy walls tumbled down and she was starting to get the hang of controlling her gifts. She finally passed her Adept exam at 23, and has been working hard to try and progress up the ranks. Nataly wants to get to the point where she could control the snowstorms of her hometown and at least make sure other kids don't have to lose their parents like she did.
5,139	134	121	2,579	89	The Earthshaper gave a gruff laugh, and pointed at Nataly. "So, I'm guessing she'll be just like a dog too then. That you have a whistle for her and will give her a treat once you are done here. Silly book rats, no idea how the rest of the world works." The Earthshaper said pointedly, obviously with several insults prepped for Ling. "If you are not willing to let transgressions slide, then no point in-" The Earthshaper was cut off as the Fire Mage let loose a torrent of flames, her rage at being injured great fuel for the fires as other nearby buildings were catching the flames which were given no coordination other than outward from the renegades. While the Earthshaper did not seem to have much preparation for such a move, as the flames began to pull away the earth was pulled upward to form at least a fast shield as the mages began to make their way away in the added and now spreading inferno. Raven Hayes had already been guessing this would not go well with the demand. He had faith in the mages, but unlike the renegades they could not afford such reckless throwing about of power...which meant that if an inferno was thrown about, there wasn't going to be much to do against it. Not until they could likely regroup to have some water or fire control at this point. Meanwhile, the soldier looked at Drew exasperated by being awakened and shouted at already. Shaking his head to try and get it clear of the sleepiness of it being later than he liked, the man began shouting. "HOLD YER DAMN HORSES! I'M NOT BURNING DOWN THE DAMN TOWN FOR WHOEVER THE HELL IS STARTING IT!" He waved at a bunch of people, who all ran off to start grabbing buckets and whatever else they could to try and contain the somewhat explosive fire as drinks continued to explode from the fires that continued to burn. As that started, he turned to look at Drew who had gotten his attention as one of the few knowing what was going on. "YOU! Who in blazes-" The man didn't have time to finish the thought as the inferno suddenly just seemed to double, leading to a string of curses, shouts, and pleads to the gods to please make it start raining so they could stop the disaster. "GODS DAMN IT! NEVERMIND, GET THESE DAMN FIRES UNDER CONTROL NOW! WE'LL LOSE THE ENTIRE TOWN IF WE DON'T DRAW A LINE HERE!" With that, everyone broke off now all trying to either throw dirt on the fires to choke them out, water as they could get buckets over to themselves, and just doing anything they could as they fanned out to try and make a defense against the fire from spreading to even more buildings.	The vagueness isn't a bad problem, but there are two concerns, both a bit related to one another. Her age and her rank. Age comes into play because she is the youngest Weaver by a couple years, which wouldn't be the worst of problems except it seems that her metal abilities showed up later when working as a blacksmith. Since we already have 3 Weavers who are supposed to be in play, I am a little hesitant to take on a vague 4th. If you would be OK just dropping to Adept or Mage that would solve the age problem pretty easily. Otherwise, it reads alright other than that, so if you would make a decision regarding that I think it would be all set! Congrats on the dog hunt, and happy to hear you got them back.
5,140	134	122	1,551	217	Bringing up the rear proved to work in Joey's favor, as the fleet footed Earthshaper slid to an abrupt stop. Slowing to a creep, he could overhear the the rogue mages talking down to Ling and the others. He began taking a few steps back, sizing up a wall of the building not yet effected by the tavern’s inferno. “Sandstone…” He muttered, getting a feel of the wall’s material. Wasn't the tallest structure, wouldn't be too much of a hassle to scale. ”Need to act fast…” He began up, hands grabbing onto ledges and window sills, feet digging into brick folds. Climbing stone came easy to an individual who could subtly reshape the makeup of the earth. His mage-born abilities made it unnaturally simple for Joey to gain a dependable grip on walls such as this one. Add to that a few odd years of rogue-like experiences, and you get a limey fella that could potentially wall crawl with the best of them. Even then, there was a bit of an incentive to get to the rooftops. The area was heating up, with both the tension between the our two opposing parties, and the actual heat coming from the wild spreading flames. Joey figured he could get to a higher vantage point, and find a way to get the drop on one of the rogue mages to provide his comrades with some form of a bargaining chip. Were this any other situation, he would've been totally fine with just letting the rogues go. But once Ling went all Lawful Good on the situation, he felt the need to pitch in in some sort of way, if only because he was in the vicinity and didn't want to seem like a flake. Now atop the building’s roof, Joey fell back into old habits as he pulled up his hood, and shrouded himself against the growing shadows of the fires. He could get a great view of the standoff, and thought to strategize accordingly. ”A’right, these buildings are all built pretty close together...I could get behind the rogues, climb back down, and snatch up that fire one, she looks kinda weak-” Speaking far too soon, said fire Mage seemed to had erupted into a AOE of flame. Just the blast of hot air created from attack was enough to make Joey stagger. The fires were doing much to just burning everything flammable...including the buildings Joey was planning on hopping over to in order to surprise the rogues. So his Plan A was effectively scrapped. ”Fffffffuuuuck.” He groaned, mentally. He was slightly disappointed he couldn't be the big damn hero anymore. But, as soon as that plan flew out the window, another one simply replaced it. He brought forth his knife. Least he could do is flick it at the fire Mage. Provide some sort of distraction that could give someone a chance to gain the upper hand. With that in mind, he lined up his shot. “OI!” He yelled as his blade was already barreling towards its target. “YEH DAFT CUNT! YOU’LL BURN DOWN THE WHOLE FUCKIN’ CITY AT THIS RATE!” As Joey yelled, he never stopped to think if that might've been her objective in the first place.	Name: Horatio "Joey" Dunst Age: 25 Gender: Male Mastery: Earthshaper Specialty: Boulder Rank: Mage Appearance: Dirty and disheveled would be among a possible series of words used to describe the boy. He's about 5'11. Tan skin on a mostly skinny figure. He’s got strong arms and legs, though. Dark brown eyes. An unkempt bush of bouncy, brunette curls sit atop his head. Dirt marks and scars go hand in hand on decorating the boy's body, naturally. A sprinkle of dark freckles are noticeable along the bridge of his nose and cheeks. His crass, cockney accent does well to meld with his street urchin appearance. Hands and feet are usually covered in wrappings or some sort. He’s almost fiercely against any form of footwear, actually. Feeling the dust and dirt kick up between his toes is a bit securing to him. His clothes could be considered rags; a short, sleeveless white shirt and thin, brown pants covered in dirt and dust. His hooded shawl could be considered the most unique article of his attire, the knee-length brown cape draping over his shoulders and fastening at his neck. A faded, blocky, zig-zagging pattern lies all along the edge of the tattered drape. Equipment: Usually, if he isn't mindlessly twirling it between his fingers, he has a six inch dagger holstered in his belt. It has a ring near the blade by the hilt, hence all the twirling. Also usually tied along his belt, is a small sack containing the assorted forms of earth he can control. Sand, stone arrowheads, and all sorts of small rocks and pebbles are in this bag. Demeanor: He's a bit of a shady figure. Can keep up in a conversation, but it would be wise to not trust all his words. He's had to lie, cheat, and steal to get to where he is today, and it's what he knows best. Friends were few and far between for the boy, yet he's managed to get by. But, he's reckless also. Foolishly so. His life experiences have made him careless towards the direction his life goes in. Along with the numerous ways he's been used; he knows of his expendable status, he just doesn't care at this point. If you can manage past those wondrous qualities, he’s quite a blast to be around. Jokes and snarks with the best of them. Unhesitant to flirt with any sort of female. History: There's been no shortage of orphans inhabiting that island the mages were pushed to so long ago. However, there were the young ones that managed to find the righteous path, to fully embrace their abilities and to fall in line with all the other budding mages at the Academy. Joey never found this path. Not immediately, anyway. His parents, whoever they were, pulled the ol’ “baby in a basket (sans basket)” routine on a human owned monastery not too far from the nearest town, but at least several fortnights away from the nearest Academy. Little Joey was left on the doorstep with nothing more than a soiled diaper with his name hastily scrawled into it. Such an occurrence was a normal routine for the place, so of course he was taken in. From there he grew up along the monks and nuns and the other assorted ragamuffins of that monastery. He was quite the quick handed troublemaker out of the kids in his age group, a mischievous little runt that was always ready to plan or play the next prank on one of his unsuspecting elders. No doubt he was the all time best at hide and seek. They were quick to give him his forty lashings whenever they found him, too. Despite this, he was always willing to lend a hand, that is, if he were getting something out of the task. At some point in his seventeenth year, he overheard news of a public execution being held in town. It was two criminals; a mage couple. Now, he’s heard many stories and comments about mages up to this point. And none of them were good ones. They’ve been called demons, savages, heathens and false prophets. How they could manipulate flame with just a flick of the wrist, snatch the light right out of the sky, and how the earth would tremble at their will. Most of the religious folk thought that they all deserve nothing shorter than burning in hell. The news of the execution practically resulted in joyous celebration among the nuns and monks of the monastery. Naturally, Joey had to go into town to check it out, he wanted to see what these so-called demons looked like! You could imagine his disappointment when he actually set eyes on the criminals once he reached the town square. They weren’t nearly as monstrous as he was thinking. Nope, instead they looked like old, tired folk, with faces and bodies covered in bruises and cuts. Lame. He looked on, disinterested. The announcement of their crimes went mostly unheard, but it was something the executioner said that really got Joey’s attention. He announced their names: Mikaela and Rohaan Dunst. “...Dunst?” Joey scoffed. It was an interesting coincidence, that he’d have the same last name as these two. As the two dropped from the gallows, and hung for all the town to see, Joey made his way back to the monastery, not giving much thought to that strange coincidence. ...That is, until he started making little rocks float by his fingertips one day. He couldn’t even tell how he was making it happen or why, but he knew he should knock it off before someone noticed and amassed a angry mob. He did pretty well at keeping it under wraps, and even felt he could suppress his newfound abilities. But, he was eighteen pushing nineteen by this point, and felt it was time to move away from the monastery. Though from there, he was so fast to fall in with the wrong crowds. Gangs, thieves, rogues, and other presumably violent ne’er-do-wells. He would do well to use his fists to find his way out of a scrap, rather than his abilities. He would skip from town to town, ever so slowly heading in the direction of the Academy. He would swipe small trinkets and currencies from oblivious tourists and unsuspecting lodgers. If he weren’t sleeping outside in the dirt, it would be in the warm bed of a maiden he’d manage to sweet talk. If he'd get lucky, some odd job would fall into his lap during his travels, maybe help move things off a freighter, or play as an extra hand in a shakedown. The more he stole from the humans, the more he began to loathe their ways. The lot of them were selfish, ignorant, and oh so dumb. He realized the hate against mages seemed mostly for no reason, and it angered him a bit. He managed to reach the Academy just a few weeks after celebrating his twenty-fifth birthday. He was surprised at how gracefully they let him in, that is, once he showed what little of his abilities he possessed. That was understandable. Living alongside the humans for so long, he could understand why it would be so hard to trust any of them. Yet, he would wonder if anyone would trust him.
5,141	134	123	2,700	181	If you are not willing to let transgressions slide, then no point in- The Pyromancer cut off the speaker with a roar and a surge of flame, evidently angry that the shakedown had gone south. And with the fire came a quick wave of heat washing over the scene: Ling flinched, but fired her crossbow on instinct. When she refocused, having reloaded quickly, she found the shot had gone wide. Damn it. "You could have done this the easy way, idiots!" The rogue Earthshaper had a shield up now, and was leading his fellows away in the blast. Ling briefly considered pursuing them, but she had done so with the Nightshade, and look where that had gotten everyone. She sent a couple of shots at the Earthshaper regardless: that stone barrier hopefully wasn't thick enough to withstand the impact of multiple crossbow bolts. But rather than jump the gun any further, she believed, now was the time to defer to the actual leader of the crew. So she called out to Hayes. "Commander! What do we do?"	Name: Ling the Silver Vial Age: 24 Gender: Female Mastery: Nightshade Specialty: Alchemist Rank: Adept Appearance: As Ling originates from the Dragon Empire of the eastern plains, she is Imperial in appearance and stature; she stands at five feet seven inches tall and is notably lightweight. Her black hair is always tied back in a short ponytail; no sense in letting it get everywhere. She has brown eyes, almost always behind protective glasses out of habit. Ling can usually be found wearing black pants and a simple black-and-white tunic with long sleeves (which are rolled up when working). Her tunics bear her personal emblem in silver thread: a potion vial with an Imperial dragon curled around it. When travelling, Ling will often don a wide straw hat and a pack to hold textbooks, journals, and similar bulky items. She supplements her outfit with a belt of pouches to hold potion ingredients and the tools to work them, and two sets of leather straps. The first is fitted with loops and pockets to hold potion vials, plus a sheath to hold a silver knife. The second keeps her weapon of choice secured on her back. Equipment: Aside from a bag of Imperial silver, her usual supplies of potion ingredients, and the tools a travelling Alchemist would normally need, Ling carries a custom-made crossbow and four rectangular boxes of bolts called autoquivers. The crossbow has several modifications from the standard model: its arms can fold inward for ease of transport; a lever on the side, when pulled, draws the string back without the need for extensive strength; and the stock's space for ammunition is twice the width of a standard crossbow. This last feature allows Ling to fire either standard-issue bolts from a fitted autoquiver, or potion vials that explode on impact, scattering their contents across a patch of land or group of opponents - or allies. Ling had her crossbow - which she fondly nicknames "Kei" - and its autoquivers custom-built for her purposes. Each autoquiver holds fifteen bolts, and bolts can be replaced at any blacksmith. One of her autoquivers is marked with a skull and crossbones, the classic indicator of poison, indicating she has applied poison to each bolt in that pack. Demeanour: Some paint the Nightshades as sullen, selfish individuals who seek only a means to achieve their own ends. Ling is almost the exact opposite. She's cheery and outgoing, willing to help others in a situation even if there's no up-front benefit to her. In this sense she might be considered a tiny bit naive. She does, however, have a particular devotion to her alchemy; while working, she enters a state of focus in which nothing outside of the immediate area matters until her task is complete. There's no sense in leaving a potion of any kind half-finished; as a result, Ling ensures she has everything in order before she starts work. Ling also makes a point of keeping notes on all of her standard-issue potions and experiments. She finds the latter much more interesting than the former: there's no sense of discovery in copying the methods used by the textbooks. She has already filled several journals with these notes, in addition to memorising all of the more commonly made recipes (some of which have her own unique spin on them). Despite being of the Nightshade mastery, Ling shies away from Sitheria, God of Darkness. Instead, she favours two others of the Council: Alainia, God of Water; and Loriot, God of Fire. Ling believes that Alainia and Loriot, while opposed in their Elements and her own, are the closest to Alchemy at its core. History: The Dragon Empire is a fascinating culture. There, the long, snakelike Imperial dragons are revered in almost any art form you would care to mention. Statuary, paintings, the written word, even architecture. Little is seen of the majestic creatures, as they are often hostile to human life and civilisation, yet at the same time the Empire reveres the dragons for their grace and beauty. Of course, Ling knows nothing of the Empire firsthand, as she was shipped overseas to another Academy at the age of three, when she was tested for magical potential like all Imperial children. There is no Academy in the Dragon Empire: in the year 73 AW, after the destruction of the first Imperial Academy - whether as a result of a spell gone awry or a deliberate act of arson was never found out - Emperor Jutai Fallen Leaf declared that his lands would play host to no mage. To this day, all Imperial children are tested for magical power at an early age. Those that show the signs are shipped elsewhere, and may apply for Imperial citizenship at the age of nineteen despite being confined to Academy life. The young Ling was part of a group of fifteen Imperial children sent to the Academy, filtered into the Nightshade mastery with two others. Her grasp on shadow magic was limited, while the other young Nightshades reveled in their new-found power. But she persisted, not wishing to fall behind. Eventually, at the age of twelve, the path of the Alchemist was opened to her, and she threw herself into it. Ling found alchemy intriguing; the chemical transmutation of simple, disparate ingredients into a greater, more powerful whole. She didn't care that the Masters had chosen to wait to see whether her skills would develop. This was where she would thrive, she told herself, pushing her limits on a regular basis. She caught up to her fellow students, those the same age who had chosen their paths before her, within six months, and didn't stop there. During her later teenage years, Ling volunteered for journeys outside the Academy. Whether the gathering of unusual ingredients that couldn't be found in the Academy's gardens, eliminating a group of bandits before they could attack a nearby town, or just providing an escort for a trip for younger mages, she wanted in on them. She wanted to see what life was like outside the walls. While she has never visited the Dragon Empire on one of these journeys - it is a long way - she studied the region and its culture during this time. At the age of eighteen, she accompanied a caravan of supplies leaving the Academy for the purposes of trade. She supported the caravan's guards for most of the trip there and back, fending off unwanted company. But while they fought with magical prowess, she hurled vials and passed restoratives to those who needed them. On the way back to the Academy, she ran out of potions, having only prepared a dozen beforehand. It was only after documenting her experiences that Ling realised that potions and poisons simply weren't enough to be properly supportive. She had to be able to cause some effective damage herself; otherwise, she was just another body the caravan guards needed to protect. So she began researching means of expanding upon the simple act of throwing potion vials to cause harm. There was a recent innovation in throwing short spears from a Metallic kid, that she jumped on and experimented with. While the technique was certainly effective for the javelin, it was almost useless for throwing potions. Too inaccurate without a proper guidance system. And then came the brainwave. A crossbow, modified ever so slightly to accept the small vials she used frequently. Ling, still at the rank of Mage at this time, went to a Metallic Weaver with a bag of coins in one hand and her notes in the other. The Weaver and the Mage spent the next few weeks on her customised weapon, ranging from sourcing the required materials to Ling providing several potion-related favours. But after a month of work, the crossbow was finally finished, and with a few extra modifications for ease of use. Calibrated perfectly for the throwing of vials with just enough force to catapult them a good distance, but not enough to shatter them when she pulled the trigger. As a bonus gift, the customised weapon, which Ling named "Kei", came with a set of long box-shaped containers of crossbow bolts, to be fitted atop the weapon. Submissions of high-strength potions for examination, as well as a short written paper on her vial-launching crossbow, earned Ling the rank of Adept soon after she turned nineteen. And with this promotion came her choice of title: she became Ling the Silver Vial. Surnames are uncommon in the Dragon Empire: instead, titles chosen by the individual are the norm. Whether a title comes before or after the given name is up to the individual, but a title will always have some reflection of the person choosing it. To give examples, an adventurer might call himself "Explorer Lun", while a Metallic Elemental might refer to himself as "Shang the Steel Hand". An Imperial citizen will usually choose his or her title at the age of nineteen, when Imperial law deems them a legal adult. But now that she had passed the first of her trials, Ling had even more work to do. So she got stuck into it, working late into the night to complete her projects and supplementing her midnight studies with restorative draughts to keep her awake and focused. It was here that shadow magic began to play a part in Ling's studies once more: the art of drawing a fragment of one's own shadow into a bottle to serve as an ingredient called an umbral reagent. A grasp on this particular alchemical discipline eluded Ling for several years, to the point where she began to experiment, finishing the textbook's recipes without the regents. Every one of them blew up in her laboratory. Without the use of umbral reagents, the Adept-tier recipes were unstable; they needed the refining qualities of the reagents to blend components that - as Ling learned the hard way - reacted badly to one another. Ling saw this only as another obstacle. She pushed herself harder, driving herself to find a way to either follow the textbook's methods, or create an alternative to the use of umbral reagents. She asked Weavers and historians, gathered the most odd or unusual of components, all in the name of solving this problem. Three years after becoming an Adept, she knew every Adept recipe back to front, but had little practical experience because she still struggled to bottle a tiny piece of her own shadow. But no matter what she tried, her experiments resulted in wasted efforts, not even acidic enough for throwing at something. Frustrated, Ling stormed out of the Academy with Kei on her back. She hitched a ride with a caravan to one of the nearby cities, seeking something - anything - she hadn't used yet. There was nothing. So, having spent the day searching with no result except a box of vials from a glassblower and a pack of crossbow bolts from the blacksmith - each traded for a trio of Ling's homebrew all-nighter tonics - she settled into a seat in the caravan with a profound sense of having wasted her time. Halfway back to the Academy, the caravan was ambushed. "You alright there, miss Ling? You're looking like a bee got under your hat." "I'm fine. Just keeping an eye on the road." Ling's response was terse and quiet. As always when travelling, she had Kei in her hands, an autoquiver in place. It was better to be safe than sorry, she reasoned, especially since she was the only mage on this trip. The caravan rounded a corner in the road, to find the path blocked by a makeshift barricade: logs, hastily jammed into place to hinder passage. The driver spat over the side. "Sons of... we've got company." Almost instantly, Ling was on her feet, her weapon up and aimed. Four bandits leaped from their hiding places, an assortment of weapons in hand. "Get behind me," was Ling's command to the driver before she pointed Kei at the closest of the ragtag bunch. "I am Ling the Silver Vial. If you have even a scrap of self-preservation, you will dismantle this barricade and allow us to pass." The lead bandit just chuckled. "Yer pretty words dun mean nuthin, girlie. Drop the weapon." "Oh, you want simpler words? Fine. The bolt in my crossbow is poisoned. One cut is all it takes." It was a bluff, but a carefully crafted one. The man flinched, but recovered his composure. "There's six of us an' one of you. Y'can't take us all on." Too dumb to count. Not worth the effort of negotiations. Ling pulled the trigger. The bolt hit him straight in the chest, like she'd trained. She didn't even watch the man fall, instead yanking on Kei's reset switch to reload before putting another shot into the second bandit. One of the outlaws tried to rush for the horse pulling the caravan; if they couldn't take the whole thing, they could at least cripple it, preventing it from moving. Out flashed a thrown vial, shattering on contact and dousing the rogue in acidic fluid. He flailed away from the caravan, screaming as the poison ate at his face. An arrow, crudely made, punched through the side of the caravan. Ling looked up to find the last bandit standing on a thick branch, carrying a bow and quiver. The second shot grazed the back of her hand; it was Ling's turn to flinch as she felt blood seep out from her skin. But she raised Kei and launched a series of bolts upward, peppering the archer's perch and knocking him out of his vantage point. He was dead before he hit the ground. And just like that, it was over. The one that Ling had hit with the acidic vial remained only in cries, as he had dashed away to find water. Ling spun to the inside of the caravan. "Is everyone all right?" The caravan master, two young boys and a lady in a sunhat were hiding, trying to make themselves as small as possible. Breathing slowly to calm herself, Ling collapsed Kei's arms and stowed the crossbow on her back, hands open to show she meant no harm. Even an Alchemist was still a mage. "It's okay, they're gone. The fighting's over." "A-Are you sure, miss?" "Positive." "If you're certain... hell's gates, miss Ling, you did quite the number on them," the caravan master murmured as he peered out at the scene. He jumped down to check on the horse, which was skittish and restless. "I didn't hit him with the vial, did I?" she queried. "No, no, he seems fine." "Oh, good. Last thing we needed was a panicked horse." "Last thing we needed was this damn ambush. If'n you can give a hand with getting these logs out the way, that'd be aces. C'mon, boys, time to earn your keep." The man beckoned to the two lads in the caravan, who jumped out and hurried to help him with the barricade. Ling hesitated, however, taking the time to examine her hand, which had taken a glancing blow. There was no sign of poison affecting the area, which was always a good sign. However, as she raised her hand to study it in the light, the entire injury turned solid grey, even the thin trail of blood. Ling dabbed at the viscous liquid with one finger; it remained the same grey-black colour. Ling could feel the presence of her shadow magic, stronger than ever. Inspired, she hurried to her space in the caravan, drew a vial from its box and collected the shed blood within. The glass and its contents seemed to glow in her hand. Reagent magic will become easier over time as you get used to touching your shadow. Ordinarily an intangible presence, the spell twists your shadow's properties, changing it, allowing you to gather it in your hand as you would do with mundane water. When the preparation stage is complete, pour a handful into a vial and allow it to sit for a few minutes until it turns darker and thicker, similar to blood. The paragraph on umbral reagents came to Ling's mind easily. The vial's contents were almost an exact match to the accompanying sketch. But she hadn't done as the textbook prescribed. It was almost involuntary, like her shadow magic was called to the spilled blood, mixing of its own accord. Ling bested the bandits easily, thanks to Kei and an acidic vial. When the trip was concluded and Ling was safe in her laboratory, she drew out a vial of blood she had collected after the fight and examined it. It bore all the physical signs of an umbral reagent, as described in her textbooks, but there was only one way to be sure it had the alchemical properties of one. Ling quickly prepared an introductory Adept potion for regeneration of injuries. Two bright red flasks, whipped up within minutes... all that remained was to blend the two together in the same flask as the reagent, according to the book. So she tipped her vial of infused blood into a flask, lit a fire beneath it, and tentatively poured the other two in with the grey, holding her breath all the while. The three liquids began to bubble and merge, aided by Ling's tentative stirring, then the potion turned a bold, dark red, unlike the two from a minute before. No explosion. No shattering of glass. Ling had found the key, her way to progress as an Adept. Her first priority, however, was to inform the Masters, to ensure she wasn't breaking any rules or wouldn't accidentally poison anyone with her blood-fueled potions. The ensuing discussion was intense, thorough, and more than a little scary; she was called on to repeat the creation under a Master's scrutiny. She managed it, though, and didn't poison him in the process. That was always good; there was often a chance that a healing potion, even one made to the letter, could turn out to be lethal. And since she was dealing with previously uncharted territory, anything could happen. But nothing did. The shadow-infused blood acted in the exact same manner as an ordinary umbral reagent. After another hour of talks with the Masters, Ling was cleared to continue her work in this unusual fashion. And continue she did. She took to carrying a knife to draw her own blood for her reagents. Coaxing shadow magic into the shed blood quickly became easier, aided by restoratives and regeneration potions, but she couldn't draw too much too quickly or she would have to wait even longer to resume her work. She depended on being in some degree of physical fitness, to ensure she could heal quickly from the cuts she inflicted on herself. Thankfully, any scars she might have gathered were quickly healed by her own creations. And occasionally an Illuminate healer, in the first stages of her experiments when she cut too deep and caused more pain than she had intended. After several years of further study, Ling is slowly working her way through her textbooks. She still relies on drawing blood to produce her reagents instead of just drawing scraps of shadow directly. While she understands the Masters' concern for her variation on the core practices, she still feels a tiny bit held back by their observations. Her method is unusual, but just as effective as the standard procedure. But she brushes it off, and tries to be her usual bright and cheery self; the Masters do what they do for a reason.
5,142	134	124	2,579	89	How murderous you feeling this eve, mage? Commander Hayes shouted over the inferno, noting a knife flying overhead towards the rouge mages, hoping it would find something. Looking forward at the earthy wall, he made a split decision that he wasn't going to deal with this, or have to worry about it in the future. Either someone on the other side of that earth would get lucky, or he was going to run a mage through. "I don't know about you, but I would be happier with some death!" And with that, Raven Hayes charged forward, blade drawn after the retreating mages. Making his way around the wall of earth and sliding around it, he found himself face to face with the earth mage, who had apparently decided that sticking there while the other mages made a run for it was the best plan. With a swing, the hardened steel slammed into the arm of the earth mage, glancing off, but with the cracks showing in the armor it was obvious that it wasn't quite as tough as when it had been started. With a grin, Raven jumped back at a swing the earth mage took. Meanwhile, from the upper perspective that Joey had attained, he could see the dagger find a mark, but not the Fire Mage. The Ice Mage who had been helping the fire move ended up taking the knife in the arm, which led to a string of curses as they both began to run away from the fires, the Earth Mage and Commander Hayes, and also Joey and the other mages. They were getting closer to the edge of town now, and would just be a quick sprint away from the forest and obviously very little way to follow them from there. While this happened, Vanahara had caught up to Ling and the other Mages, just in time to watch Hayes as he charged towards the Earthy opponent who had hid behind the makeshift wall for now, which crumbled some as the bolts slammed into it, not a strong enough wall to stand up to an assault. In the front of the building, Drew was largely left to his devices along with Alexander, as the rest of the town was now running about finally doing something about the flames. With the town slowly seeming like it wasn't going to burn down, there began to be a more methodical approach to making sure the things that were burning wouldn't burn anything they were close to.	The vagueness isn't a bad problem, but there are two concerns, both a bit related to one another. Her age and her rank. Age comes into play because she is the youngest Weaver by a couple years, which wouldn't be the worst of problems except it seems that her metal abilities showed up later when working as a blacksmith. Since we already have 3 Weavers who are supposed to be in play, I am a little hesitant to take on a vague 4th. If you would be OK just dropping to Adept or Mage that would solve the age problem pretty easily. Otherwise, it reads alright other than that, so if you would make a decision regarding that I think it would be all set! Congrats on the dog hunt, and happy to hear you got them back.
5,143	135	0	238	177	Brisbane. A town situated in just the right place on the world map. Don’t ask specifics I’m no Polymath, just your everyday migraine suffering Mindcaster. Growing up here as a kid I always knew I was different. You know the whole “mind reading” thing aside, it’s a lot easy to pass off as a sideshow freak and not be considered psycho. No, it was the whole “time freezes at Midnight” thing that almost landed my ass into Brisbane Hospital’s Psych Ward. Needless to say I’ve learned it was better to keep my mouth shut about the “Secret Hour” between 12:00 and 12:01. There are others like me in this town, not Mindcasters. But, other kinds of Midnighters, though we seem few and far between. I’ve been in contact we a few Midnighters from a place called “Bixby” who’ve been very helpful in the way of information and tips, but reluctant to come help us out. “Us” being us Brisbane Midnighters. We’ve been holding our own well enough, but since our one and only Fire Bringer is too afraid to step outside during the Secret Hour holds us back from making any large dent in the seemingly infinite numbers of Darklings and Slithers. Plus who knows what else is out in the forest around my home. Sometimes... actually most of the time I wish I wasn’t a Midnighter. I’m fairly certain we all feel that way at some point, it’s hard to keep secrets like this for so long. But, it’s even harder that we’re a group of people who were practically shoved together without care or thought as to the fact that we might not get along or even like each other. Occasionally, I believe the only thing that keeps us together is our shared extra hour of the day and the fact that only we know the true dangers of the dark. Nothing is more frightening than coming face to face with a shape changing Darkling that knows your deepest darkest fears. That would like nothing more than to rip your body and mind to shreds to sate their ever growing hunger. Without the others our lives would be a lot more difficult. Without the others our lives would be filled with a lot more fear. Without the others we’d probably go insane with loneliness. With numbers comes security. We’re a bigger threat if we’re in a group, I can sense the Darklings fears when we’re all in the same place at the same time. Together we’re the nightmare of Nightmares. Together we’re safe. The Darklings do their best to keep us separated. But, it’s impossible. We are Midnighters and it’s our job to be the first line of defense against the Dark. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The bells to Cafe Seville rings at an annoyingly high pitch that Aslynne can hear clearly over the sound of her music in her ears. Blaring Halestorm so loud her ears rang. A few paper flyers were rolled up in her gloved hand, the expensive leather riding gloves looked well worn and loved. Her white long sleeve blouse was tucked into her fawn colored riding breeches that were tucked into her shiny leather knee high boots. The black leather matching that of her gloves and belt she wore around her hips. Her hip length hair braided down her back, and her phone shoved into her back pocket where her purple headphones wrapped around to her front clearly hanging from her ears. Though, it was mid-summer she couldn’t allow any accidents to happen. Just the thought of skin to skin contact with someone made her feel sick to her stomach. Let alone what it actually did to her. It was a little before noon so the shop was practically, but the hiss of Aslynne’s music could clearly be heard a foot or two away. Shoving her sunglasses up her nose with a finger (because even inside the shop was too bright) she walked up to the counter and leaned on it with a wicked grin as she caught Danielle’s attention. “Hey lovely, I have a favor to ask.” The sassy Mindcaster waved the colorful flyers in her hand. “I need a live-in stable hand and was wondering if I could tape up a flyer to the window or something. After my billy-goat ‘mysteriously’ disappeared with only its hooves and horns left behind, Sally quit.” Aslynne’s nose scrunched up in distaste but she was sure Danielle with catch her meaning. Those damn Darklings ate her goat. Again. That was the sixth one this month. They were getting brave. Aslynne supposed that it was time to replace the hundred and something titanium stakes she had around her property all connected with a thin copper wire pushed close to the earth so nothing would trip on it. “Hey, anyway I could convince you to come down this Saturday and help me replace the wards? Daylight time of course.” Aslynne wasn’t so cruel as to ask Danielle to come out during the secret hour. She could “taste” the fear that permeated the entire shop, though Aslynne was determined that she’d one day get Danielle to come out. Aslynne had a Maglight with the Fire Bringer’s name all over it. One might worry of Aslynne’s lack of hesitation over putting up flyers for a live-in worker instead of going through a proper agency. But, when you dealt with the deadly Darklings on a nightly basis a stranger living in your in-law apartment over your barn didn’t really worry you. Confident that she could handle any Daylighter problems that would or could come her way. Worst comes to worst she could totally mind wipe any attacker or incapacitate them with a single touch. The feel of someone’s mind rushing into your own and vice versa was not pleasant. Her phone vibrated in her back pocket and she could taste the flavor of Professor Lee’s mind, like chai tea and pumpkin spice, with an aftertaste like a musty, dusty old book and for the third time that day she ignored it scrunching her nose in distaste. He had said something earlier this morning while she was at the college practicing on how not to go crazy in a crowd and giving him flyers to hand out that he might have someone for the job that he might be popping in. But, she wasn’t that interested in that right now. “Also, can I get a coffee? Black, please?” Aslynne had to get the taste of Seer out of her mouth.	Name: Aslynne Marie Hawthorne (A.K.A Az or Azzy) Age: 25 Height: 4’10” (147cm or 1.47m) Gender: Female Appearance: Occupation: Stable Owner and Manager, Trainer and Instructor at Windstar Stables Personal Interests: Reading, Horses, Equestrian Sports of all kinds and kicking Darkling ass Fears: Loss of control over her abilities, physical touch, large crowds, fire and hospitals Power: Mindcaster Misc. Info: Aslynne must almost always have to have music in her ears while in large crowds due to the constant “mind babble” from Daylighters, she loves animals because touching them doesn’t bring or cause pain to others. She’s still in the process of learning to control her rather difficult abilities while trying to balance a normal life. She cannot date or be intimate thanks to her fear of touch. Daylighters wouldn’t understand and she’s sure no Midnighter would want to take the time or risk their mental health at trying to be with her. She wears long sleeves and gloves no matter the season to prevent accidental touching.
5,144	135	1	1,175	849	With a frustrated sigh of disappointment a sweaty Tyler watched sensi Cayde hang up the phone for the third time today without saying a thing. "C'mon, who puts up flyers and then doesn't answer their phone?" He complains to his teacher, while massaging some of his many tender and tense muscles. Tyler quickly checked his attitude, as he imagined even by now he must be getting on Lee's nerves. He had been floating around the dojo all day participating in multiple classes or simply exercising to kill time, and all without paying. Waiting for and pushing the dojo owner to find out about the flyer vacancy. While he didn't have to pay a penny due to his financial troubles, he was physically paying the price. Exhausted and sore, he couldn't play at another hour of arm bars and hip throws. Picking up a small towel he wipes the sweat from his forehead as he begins pacing back and forth. "Agh, can you try her again?" He was beginning to get pretty desperate. This was a perfect opportunity for him and the prospect of his boss being a pretty lady didn't hurt his drive either, even if he knew nothing about horses. However every hour that passed was an hour where he could have lost his chance. And as nice as Lee was to him, this wasn't Ty's style of fighting. Finally giving up Tyler retreats to the changing rooms. Besides his motorbike outside all of his remaining possessions were in this room, stored between his duffle bag and a borrowed locker. "I gotta go get something to eat" he shouts out to Lee. "Want anything?"	Name: Danielle Hyperion Age: 24 Height: 5'7 Gender: Female Occupation: She owns the only decent cafe in town, the Cafe Seville Personal Interests: Computers, cars, her cafe Fears: Her abilities failing, the dark, darklings Power: Fire Bringer Misc. Info: Like any other Firebringer, she doesn't suffer from any adverse affects in the sun Sample: Danielle lit the thirteen candles all around her shop, looked up at thirteen photos with thirteen objects each in them(new photos every two weeks) that were tacked above her door and window, and turned on the radio, which was on station 93.1, and her phone which transmitted to station 93.1 playing only music from 1921. She wasn't sure those last two actually did anything but she loved music from the early twenties and every little bit helped. She was terrified of the Darklings, and never, ever, went out of her cafe during the Blue hour. She had met other ones like her, who tried to persuade her to join them outside, but she wouldn't have it. She knew, theoretically, that if anyone was safest from them it would be her and her ability since they hated the light and the technology, but it still freaked her out. If her abilities ever failed, which they hadn't so far, she'd be screwed against the darklings. Most everyone was scared of the dark at one point or another, and there was a very good reason. The things that go bump in the night were very real and Danielle, with her lights and her technology, was very high on their kill list.
5,145	135	2	238	177	The taste of Danielle was it’s usual bland Daylighter, like an airy wafer, with the hint sweet tea taste of happiness. Aslynne grinned in response, “Excellent, we can even have lunch out in one of the fields.” The bitter taste of the coffee canceled out all other tastes on her tongue and she sighed with relief. Pulling out her headphones she let the minds of the Daylighters wash over hers her knuckles turning white around the mug for a few moments before she let out another sigh and a shudder. The crowd in the cafe wasn’t nearly as bad as one of Lee’s lectures were. The hall had been practically full. She needed to find a way to deal with her powers without the blaring music. Her ears were often left ringing with how loud she put it. When Danielle asked if she’d like anything to eat Aslynne replied with a “Surprise me.” Knowing anything Danielle gave her would be yummy. Her own shade covered eyes glancing over at the poster on the window and gave Danielle a thumbs up over it in thanks. Sipping again at the coffee she leaned against the counter and looked over all the mundanes. While a few thoughts stuck out louder than the rest. ‘Better go before...’ An image flashed in her mind. A man leaving before paying and the bitter taste of spinach that was his guilt washed over her. One glance at Danielle and she said, “Deserter at table three. He’s practically screaming his thoughts.” Deserter being a code word for those few who tried to chew and screw without leaving the bill. “Want me to stop him before he leaves?”	Name: Aslynne Marie Hawthorne (A.K.A Az or Azzy) Age: 25 Height: 4’10” (147cm or 1.47m) Gender: Female Appearance: Occupation: Stable Owner and Manager, Trainer and Instructor at Windstar Stables Personal Interests: Reading, Horses, Equestrian Sports of all kinds and kicking Darkling ass Fears: Loss of control over her abilities, physical touch, large crowds, fire and hospitals Power: Mindcaster Misc. Info: Aslynne must almost always have to have music in her ears while in large crowds due to the constant “mind babble” from Daylighters, she loves animals because touching them doesn’t bring or cause pain to others. She’s still in the process of learning to control her rather difficult abilities while trying to balance a normal life. She cannot date or be intimate thanks to her fear of touch. Daylighters wouldn’t understand and she’s sure no Midnighter would want to take the time or risk their mental health at trying to be with her. She wears long sleeves and gloves no matter the season to prevent accidental touching.
5,146	135	3	2,204	18	"She knows I am calling Tyler. Repeating the call will just be a waste of time." Lee said as he got up and was asked by Tyler about food. Lee looked at him with a confused look. "I know you mean well, but anything you get will not be to my liking. I prefer to make my own food for a better balance of my body and mind. But either way, get yourself something you want." Lee slipped a folded 20 dollar bill in his hand. He knew of Tyler's troubles and Lee never shied away from helping his students in matters of how society treated them. Though in his training he would never offer help as he expected his students to overcome. He knew Tyler needed to move on from this place. He may have passed down a few things to Tyler's skill set but he had his own style and his own way which worked for him. Lee helped people find their ways through their own strengths. He put his hand on Tyler's shoulder before he left. "She will give everyone applying a fair chance. She is not of an unfair mind. You will hear something soon." Lee went on down to the basement of the dojo after Tyler left. He placed his hand upon the wall in the far corner. A runic symbol appearing as he placed his hand, burning in a green-ish hue. The wall shifted slightly in the light and Lee passed through the wall as if he were a ghost. Runic magic was something to be used effectively for secrecy. The room in passed into was dimly lit. Everything was of an antique look and the stone of the room seemed to be set for time unknown. Lee moved into the room further flipping a switch that turned the room visible with full light that was not as intense as normal light. Bearable. Lee had something laying on a table next to some artifacts and books. It was wrapped in a large bolt of cloth and was light but didn't bend. He removed the bolt to reveal several different shapes and sizes of metals. Steel, alloys....anything he could forge with. He had just ordered the metals and received them today. The hour was becoming more threatening as of late and he need to arm appropriately. As well as arm the other Midnighters. He would have to call them together soon, he needed to determine what sort of weapons would suit each. He was hoping that this would also help Danielle be more confident. There is something about a custom weapon that instills bravery. He knew of her reluctance...and they needed her for the hour.	Name: Tyler Virth Age: 28 Height: Gender: Male Appearance: Occupation: Currently a barman, unable to settle down he often jumps from one casual job to another. Personal Interests: Adrenalin sports, bikes, tattoos, leather, whiskey. Fears: Tyler is claustrophobic, He fears being trapped. He also fears being helpless or considered weak. Power: Acrobat, Misc. Info: Sample: A firm breeze sails the cloudless, star filled sky. A single droplet of sweat accentuates the chill as it falls down the burning warm skin of a bare exposed chest, hiding away a heavy beating heart. His muscular half naked body, a sillouet against the bright full moon cascading down upon the cliff which they stood atop. Tyler or 'Ty' for short impatiently checks his watch. He breathes slow and heavily, watching his warm breath forming clouds in the cold air before him. Meanwhile Kiera, his latest fling, struggles up the steep hill and finally catches him in her sight. He rubs his bloody and bruised knuckles as she approaches behind him. He knows she is there, he can hear her but can't bring himself to turn around. She continues to near. Even as he stares down over the edge of the sheer cliff into the abyss of the darkness far below, he can't shake her from his head, the hours spent fantasising over her dreamy forbidden body were not so easily forgotten. His mind was racing wild, it was a blur of untraceable thoughts. 11:59, close enough. He spins around, "BANG!" The sudden sound shatters the silence and repeats out echoing as it travels the open distance. Ty's ears scream with an echoing ring. Looking out in shock Kiera was not in sight, instead there stood the hulking bearded giant known as Carl, his nose still crooked and dry blood stained his messy long beard that surrounded his gap-tooth grin. Only he wasn't grinning now, panic filled his bloodshot eyes and he drops the heavy metallic device that was in his hand. A gun. Ty looks down to his stomach, he could feel the warmth of his blood spill into his cold hands already clutching the wound. Struck by a sudden dizziness, before he could look back up, he fell. And fell. And fell. The roaring wind around him slowly becoming a gentle breeze as the darkness softly embraces him. 'That'll teach you for playing with another mans woman' he thinks to himself as he floats down the last few meters to meet the waiting dirt landing with a soft thud. A smile breaks his lips, as he groans 'nah it won't'.
5,147	135	4	1,175	849	Tyler was in no position to refuse Lee's money, he pockets it with a grateful nod. Had it been a handout from anyone else it would have been much more awkward but Lee was on another level, always seeming calm and collected. Even a moment later as Ty's bike roared to life and he took off down the road, Lee's words resonated with him and he no longer stressed about the job vacancy. A little while later he shuts off the motor and kicks out the stand. As he pulls off his helmet he see's Danielle in the window of her cafe playing with a sign. He loved the subtle hints of character about this place like the arrows drawn on the glass, although he never noticed what they were pointing too as he was to preoccupied with admiring the vision of her walking away to the counter. Tyler slips into the cafe and throws a cheeky little flirty wink Danielle's way. It seems to go largely unnoticed as she talks to an odd customer wearing shades inside. With a quick glance around the shop Tyson notices trouble. An old acquaintance that hit rock bottom just like himself, although it wasn't via sheer bad luck like it was for Tyson but instead due to problems with addictions. With a heavy sigh Ty pulls up a seat from across his old friend. Quick to cover of the pleasantries he soon is practically interrogating the man trying to discern if he has made or atleast attempted to improve himself at all. While Tyler was stern he spoke with compassion and care but none of his words altered that hidden floating bitter 'chew and screw' taste that only Aslynne was aware of.	Name: Danielle Hyperion Age: 24 Height: 5'7 Gender: Female Occupation: She owns the only decent cafe in town, the Cafe Seville Personal Interests: Computers, cars, her cafe Fears: Her abilities failing, the dark, darklings Power: Fire Bringer Misc. Info: Like any other Firebringer, she doesn't suffer from any adverse affects in the sun Sample: Danielle lit the thirteen candles all around her shop, looked up at thirteen photos with thirteen objects each in them(new photos every two weeks) that were tacked above her door and window, and turned on the radio, which was on station 93.1, and her phone which transmitted to station 93.1 playing only music from 1921. She wasn't sure those last two actually did anything but she loved music from the early twenties and every little bit helped. She was terrified of the Darklings, and never, ever, went out of her cafe during the Blue hour. She had met other ones like her, who tried to persuade her to join them outside, but she wouldn't have it. She knew, theoretically, that if anyone was safest from them it would be her and her ability since they hated the light and the technology, but it still freaked her out. If her abilities ever failed, which they hadn't so far, she'd be screwed against the darklings. Most everyone was scared of the dark at one point or another, and there was a very good reason. The things that go bump in the night were very real and Danielle, with her lights and her technology, was very high on their kill list.
5,148	135	5	1,175	849	Tyler's fingers tap hard against the table three times in heavy succession, he stares out the window as Frank scampers off, concern and deep thought painted heavily on his face, that wasn't a victory. "Don't thank me, I didn't do anything... Not for you anyway." There was a very subtle undertone of sorrow in his distant voice. It took him a moment to regain his thoughts and address the woman before him. She somehow seemed to catch him by surprise even though he just answered her. Tyler, suddenly realising his rudeness, gently clasps his hands around hers and turns on the cheerful charm, speaking with a daring smile he tries to quickly recover any damage he had just done. "Not to say I wouldn't do anything for a gorgeous gal like yourself though." Sounding a lot more confident and warming as he firmly shakes her hand in greeting. "Pleasure to meet you, it's nice place you have here!" He pauses for a moment allowing himself look around in admiration, his eyes momentarily fall upon the girl in shades, ignoring her oddness he looks back to Danielle, catching her eyes in his before continuing to talk, replying to her last question quite casually. "I don't quite know yet, haven't really decided. All depends if this place is good to me." He turns his head to look out the window and then looks back at Danielle, letting her catch him briefly giving her a look over. "so far I'd say it's pretty fifty-fifty at the moment." His eyes find hers again and a playful, slightly bashful grin cracks through his attempts of holding a serious face as his hand tilts from side to side (signaling either way or 50/50) while he tries not to smile too much. "So how long have you lived here?"	Name: Danielle Hyperion Age: 24 Height: 5'7 Gender: Female Occupation: She owns the only decent cafe in town, the Cafe Seville Personal Interests: Computers, cars, her cafe Fears: Her abilities failing, the dark, darklings Power: Fire Bringer Misc. Info: Like any other Firebringer, she doesn't suffer from any adverse affects in the sun Sample: Danielle lit the thirteen candles all around her shop, looked up at thirteen photos with thirteen objects each in them(new photos every two weeks) that were tacked above her door and window, and turned on the radio, which was on station 93.1, and her phone which transmitted to station 93.1 playing only music from 1921. She wasn't sure those last two actually did anything but she loved music from the early twenties and every little bit helped. She was terrified of the Darklings, and never, ever, went out of her cafe during the Blue hour. She had met other ones like her, who tried to persuade her to join them outside, but she wouldn't have it. She knew, theoretically, that if anyone was safest from them it would be her and her ability since they hated the light and the technology, but it still freaked her out. If her abilities ever failed, which they hadn't so far, she'd be screwed against the darklings. Most everyone was scared of the dark at one point or another, and there was a very good reason. The things that go bump in the night were very real and Danielle, with her lights and her technology, was very high on their kill list.
5,149	135	6	238	177	Just before Danielle could mention the details of her friends job Tyler interrupted. "Ah thanks but it's ok, I'm actually waiting on something a mate is hooking up for me. It's a pretty good deal, if they ever learn how to answer their phone you just might be seeing a bit more of me." He gives her a little wink. "Depending on how good your coffee is of course." He adds in teasingly. He stops talking and just gives a soft smile while looking at Danielle, creating a little bit of a slightly awkward moment. "So yea I'll try a bite of your best." He says breaking the tension. "I would love and ask for you to sit with me and tell me about this town but you should probably get back to your friend there." Tyler sounds a little bit saddened by the prospect. "oh and don't worry... I can pay." He says half laughing as he rolls up a sleeve and jokingly shows her his clean arm. (And maybe, accidentally a bit of bicep and muscle)	Name: Aslynne Marie Hawthorne (A.K.A Az or Azzy) Age: 25 Height: 4’10” (147cm or 1.47m) Gender: Female Appearance: Occupation: Stable Owner and Manager, Trainer and Instructor at Windstar Stables Personal Interests: Reading, Horses, Equestrian Sports of all kinds and kicking Darkling ass Fears: Loss of control over her abilities, physical touch, large crowds, fire and hospitals Power: Mindcaster Misc. Info: Aslynne must almost always have to have music in her ears while in large crowds due to the constant “mind babble” from Daylighters, she loves animals because touching them doesn’t bring or cause pain to others. She’s still in the process of learning to control her rather difficult abilities while trying to balance a normal life. She cannot date or be intimate thanks to her fear of touch. Daylighters wouldn’t understand and she’s sure no Midnighter would want to take the time or risk their mental health at trying to be with her. She wears long sleeves and gloves no matter the season to prevent accidental touching.
5,150	135	7	1,175	849	My coffee is the best in the state, thank you very much, if not the tristate area. Danielle stifled a smile when Aslynne came over and commented on Tyler. "I see you've met the Professor then? Azzy and him...have an interesting relationship but if the Professor is recommending you, I'm sure it'll give you a reason to stick around then." Danielle smiled, before getting up. "Good bye Azzy! Good bye my love!" Danielle said in true Danielle fashion before grabbing another large mug of coffee as well as one of the carrot cake donut. "Okay the donut is on me because I'm using you as a guinea pig, and here is your coffee. Would you like sugar or creamer?" Danielle asked him, as she sat down again. "I've been working since six this morning, I think I can take a break, right?" Danielle smiled at him, taking a bit of her own carrot cake donut. It was pretty good, although not her best work. "So, what would you like to know about the small grouping of buildings that is Brisbane? I mean really, there's three streets and four gas stations and if that doesn't tell you about this town I really don't know how to describe it." Danielle shrugged, looking out the window at Main St.	Name: Danielle Hyperion Age: 24 Height: 5'7 Gender: Female Occupation: She owns the only decent cafe in town, the Cafe Seville Personal Interests: Computers, cars, her cafe Fears: Her abilities failing, the dark, darklings Power: Fire Bringer Misc. Info: Like any other Firebringer, she doesn't suffer from any adverse affects in the sun Sample: Danielle lit the thirteen candles all around her shop, looked up at thirteen photos with thirteen objects each in them(new photos every two weeks) that were tacked above her door and window, and turned on the radio, which was on station 93.1, and her phone which transmitted to station 93.1 playing only music from 1921. She wasn't sure those last two actually did anything but she loved music from the early twenties and every little bit helped. She was terrified of the Darklings, and never, ever, went out of her cafe during the Blue hour. She had met other ones like her, who tried to persuade her to join them outside, but she wouldn't have it. She knew, theoretically, that if anyone was safest from them it would be her and her ability since they hated the light and the technology, but it still freaked her out. If her abilities ever failed, which they hadn't so far, she'd be screwed against the darklings. Most everyone was scared of the dark at one point or another, and there was a very good reason. The things that go bump in the night were very real and Danielle, with her lights and her technology, was very high on their kill list.
5,151	135	8	964	923	Ved With a final, painfully long stoke, he was done. Stepping back from his latest piece, he observed it with a smile, looking over each and ever line of it, making sure it was perfect, and it was. He loved painting, and lived and breathed art, it was his current passion, and he had dedicated many hours to it, of course only on the rare occasion when he was free. This current piece though, was to be a donation to his favorite local coffee shop. The store was covered in thirteens, and he had decided to create a painting for it. Though at a slow pace, he had managed to complete it. With a hazy tan background, splattered with different shades of Brown and red, and the letter in large, curvy and smeared print, 13. Lifting it up, he smiled at the painting lightly before dropping a bit of black wax on the corner, and stamping in his signature with a loud thump. After, he left it to dry as he did a few chores around the house, before wrapping it up and taking it downstairs, setting it in the back of his old, black, metal truck. Driving to the shop, at a fairly steady speed, he allowed himself to drift a bit, letting down his guard for a moment before a flood of geographical relevance poured into his mind. Below his town was nothing but miles of stone and clay, the occasional diamond formation and water-wells. As his mind continued to travel uncontrollably, he saw the miles and miles of liquid metal that made up the earth's core. Flashing back, he slammed on the brakes, less than thirty feet away was a red light, and with no cars behind him, he was lucky not to cause an accident. After a few more minutes, he made it to the coffee shop, unloading his painting and walking in with a smile and his donation for the building.	Name Micah "Ved" Joel Age 25 Height 5'11 Gender Agender Appearance Occupation Tattoo Artist Personal Interests He is heavily involved with the local punk scene, being a singer for a melodic hardcore band that takes up his time outside of work. Fears (Spiders, Falling, Water etc.) Deathly afraid of Snakes. Power (Acrobat, Fire Bringer, Seer or Polymath) Metallurge Misc. Info None Sample It was the summer of 1996, and it was his sixth birthday. He was celebrating with his family at a man-made beach, which he refused to call anything but the ocean, for it was too "Huge" to be a lake, and he swore that he could taste salt. But likely, that was a combination of the shit in the water and the sweat on his lips, but an eleven year old didn't take that into account. He was with his friends, playing a game they called detector. They would each get a quarter, and bury it in the sand while Ved wasn't looking, then at the very end of the day would have him find where they were hidden. His parents, as well as the other children's parents, never thought anything special of it, and the kids all thought he was cheating, because he could find every hidden coin, and a few extra's, within a matter of minutes. This specific time, it was nickles and penny's that were being hidden, and as he searched, he came across a form that terrified him. He screamed and leaped away from the spot his open palms had been hovering over just seconds before, sobbing violently as he pointed towards the spot. His parents immediately came running, and upon arrival Ved forced them to uncover what he had found, and they stood in awe, gasping, his mother gagged and nearly vomited. After the police arrived, a detective knelt down and asked him, how he found the body. All Ved could do was shake his head and sob, talking about the worms and maggots he saw slithering in the body. He wasn't allowed to play detector again.
5,152	135	9	1,175	849	'I hope Lee has good things to say about you when I call him back, Mr. Virth.' Things went, other things were said, the woman left, Danielle spoke but Tyler's mind was still rolling around what was just said. He holds half smiles and nods while trying to split his attention between the conundrum in his head and events unfolding around him. To make matters worse that smile stained his mind leaving an afterimage... Then suddenly Danielle calmly added to trick like it was no big deal, speaking about the professor. Tyler recalled Lee was a professor. What was going on here!? Had she just mistaken him for someone else? Was this lady just a looney? Was it all simply coincidental? No, she was looking for a worker and getting a reference off Lee. Had Lee finally got through, if so he wouldn't have known Tyler was here. Tyler racked his brain trying to work out this parlour trick. He gives a soft chuckle and shakes his head, leaning over the table he speaks softly. "Alright! I give in. So when did Lee finally get a hold of her and how did you guys know it was me he was talking about?" His foot twitches under the table as he waits for a reply. So caught up he doesn't even notice the man enter with a painting. "That's a hell of a poker face you have there by the way, remind me not to play cards with you." He jokes as he sits back thinking he has it all worked out.	Name: Danielle Hyperion Age: 24 Height: 5'7 Gender: Female Occupation: She owns the only decent cafe in town, the Cafe Seville Personal Interests: Computers, cars, her cafe Fears: Her abilities failing, the dark, darklings Power: Fire Bringer Misc. Info: Like any other Firebringer, she doesn't suffer from any adverse affects in the sun Sample: Danielle lit the thirteen candles all around her shop, looked up at thirteen photos with thirteen objects each in them(new photos every two weeks) that were tacked above her door and window, and turned on the radio, which was on station 93.1, and her phone which transmitted to station 93.1 playing only music from 1921. She wasn't sure those last two actually did anything but she loved music from the early twenties and every little bit helped. She was terrified of the Darklings, and never, ever, went out of her cafe during the Blue hour. She had met other ones like her, who tried to persuade her to join them outside, but she wouldn't have it. She knew, theoretically, that if anyone was safest from them it would be her and her ability since they hated the light and the technology, but it still freaked her out. If her abilities ever failed, which they hadn't so far, she'd be screwed against the darklings. Most everyone was scared of the dark at one point or another, and there was a very good reason. The things that go bump in the night were very real and Danielle, with her lights and her technology, was very high on their kill list.
5,153	135	10	2,204	18	Tyler accepts Danielle's answer, with a slight chuckle, what else could it be. Regarding poker he replies, "If you want to play more often, actually I'd love to take you on sometime, I like a good challenge." He says with a smile. "However" he adds putting on a playful face, "I don't have the job yet so unless you can think of something else we could play for?" He lets the sentence trail off. The grin on his face indicating he knew exactly what stakes he was getting at. It was sort of hard to tell if he was joking or serious. Then the man with a painting enters. When the newcomer is introduced Tyler stands and greets Ved offering a hand to shake. "Nice to meet ya." He watches the unveiling before speaking. "So Ved, as an artist you might be able to help me out with the question I was about to ask Dani, where would be the best place in this town a newcomer like myself could take a pretty girl out on a date?"	Name: Tyler Virth Age: 28 Height: Gender: Male Appearance: Occupation: Currently a barman, unable to settle down he often jumps from one casual job to another. Personal Interests: Adrenalin sports, bikes, tattoos, leather, whiskey. Fears: Tyler is claustrophobic, He fears being trapped. He also fears being helpless or considered weak. Power: Acrobat, Misc. Info: Sample: A firm breeze sails the cloudless, star filled sky. A single droplet of sweat accentuates the chill as it falls down the burning warm skin of a bare exposed chest, hiding away a heavy beating heart. His muscular half naked body, a sillouet against the bright full moon cascading down upon the cliff which they stood atop. Tyler or 'Ty' for short impatiently checks his watch. He breathes slow and heavily, watching his warm breath forming clouds in the cold air before him. Meanwhile Kiera, his latest fling, struggles up the steep hill and finally catches him in her sight. He rubs his bloody and bruised knuckles as she approaches behind him. He knows she is there, he can hear her but can't bring himself to turn around. She continues to near. Even as he stares down over the edge of the sheer cliff into the abyss of the darkness far below, he can't shake her from his head, the hours spent fantasising over her dreamy forbidden body were not so easily forgotten. His mind was racing wild, it was a blur of untraceable thoughts. 11:59, close enough. He spins around, "BANG!" The sudden sound shatters the silence and repeats out echoing as it travels the open distance. Ty's ears scream with an echoing ring. Looking out in shock Kiera was not in sight, instead there stood the hulking bearded giant known as Carl, his nose still crooked and dry blood stained his messy long beard that surrounded his gap-tooth grin. Only he wasn't grinning now, panic filled his bloodshot eyes and he drops the heavy metallic device that was in his hand. A gun. Ty looks down to his stomach, he could feel the warmth of his blood spill into his cold hands already clutching the wound. Struck by a sudden dizziness, before he could look back up, he fell. And fell. And fell. The roaring wind around him slowly becoming a gentle breeze as the darkness softly embraces him. 'That'll teach you for playing with another mans woman' he thinks to himself as he floats down the last few meters to meet the waiting dirt landing with a soft thud. A smile breaks his lips, as he groans 'nah it won't'.
5,154	135	11	964	923	Ved He smiled and let out a half chuckle, hugging her back with one arm, due to the other being more than a bit preoccupied with what he would later describe as his favorite painting, of his own work at least. He would never admit that it had taken the last several months for him to finish this painting, and that a glance at his dumpster would reveal several failed attempts at creating the perfect piece. But on his 26th attempt, he had finally finished it, creating a piece he would prize eternally. Thank god he was better with a needle than a brush, because otherwise he would be out a job and facing several lawsuits, which he definitely couldn't afford, even with a job. Walking, or more so, being drug by Danielle, he approached the new person, who would soon be working for Azzy. "Hope you can handle the labor, I only lasted a week with her. And to answer your question, I'd have to say this very cafe." He said with a smirk, then With a gleaming look of pride, he lifted the painting up and fastened it to a nail he had put in the wall several weeks ago in preparation. Stepping back to make sure it was fastened and level, he reapproached, and to the tune of Daniella's hand-drums, pulled down the cloth cover to reveal his painting.	Name Micah "Ved" Joel Age 25 Height 5'11 Gender Agender Appearance Occupation Tattoo Artist Personal Interests He is heavily involved with the local punk scene, being a singer for a melodic hardcore band that takes up his time outside of work. Fears (Spiders, Falling, Water etc.) Deathly afraid of Snakes. Power (Acrobat, Fire Bringer, Seer or Polymath) Metallurge Misc. Info None Sample It was the summer of 1996, and it was his sixth birthday. He was celebrating with his family at a man-made beach, which he refused to call anything but the ocean, for it was too "Huge" to be a lake, and he swore that he could taste salt. But likely, that was a combination of the shit in the water and the sweat on his lips, but an eleven year old didn't take that into account. He was with his friends, playing a game they called detector. They would each get a quarter, and bury it in the sand while Ved wasn't looking, then at the very end of the day would have him find where they were hidden. His parents, as well as the other children's parents, never thought anything special of it, and the kids all thought he was cheating, because he could find every hidden coin, and a few extra's, within a matter of minutes. This specific time, it was nickles and penny's that were being hidden, and as he searched, he came across a form that terrified him. He screamed and leaped away from the spot his open palms had been hovering over just seconds before, sobbing violently as he pointed towards the spot. His parents immediately came running, and upon arrival Ved forced them to uncover what he had found, and they stood in awe, gasping, his mother gagged and nearly vomited. After the police arrived, a detective knelt down and asked him, how he found the body. All Ved could do was shake his head and sob, talking about the worms and maggots he saw slithering in the body. He wasn't allowed to play detector again.
5,155	135	12	238	177	“You got me, Professor. Queen Bitch strikes again!” Aslynne scoffed, but the large heavy silence she put before her next words alluded to seriousness. “I met Tyler. He’s one of us, isn’t he?” Aslynne knew that Lee would be able to make out a Midnighter’s face as clear as day. Midnight Focus clung to Midnighters like static to a balloon. Just like she could taste the difference. All Daylighters tasted the same to her. Like unflavored wafers or cheap bread. But, each Midnighter stood out and Tyler had tasted of Jack Daniel’s and bad pickup lines. “Midnighter or not, he’ll do. But, don’t think I’m going to be the one who gives him the intro into this life. You’re the Seer, you do the introductions. I now have to go to the hardware store and pick up some nails to hammer into all the window sills. Having two Midnighters on property is like a shiny red beacon to the Old Dusty Ones. I might be able to slink by okay on my own, but who knows what power this guy has. What if he’s another Flame Bringer?” Old Dusty Ones being the really really REALLY old Darklings that lurked in the darkest part of the Reservation. They almost never showed themselves, but Aslynne could taste them out there. More warding, and a lot less time to do it. Gods, this was all such a pain in the ass. “Anyway, Lee. Few more errands to run. I’ll swing by on the way home... Oh! And don’t forget to name that Katana. Give it something badass like ‘Hepaticocholangiocholecystentersotomies’; that’s the scientific name for a Gall Bladder surgery. If you didn’t know. Bye for now!” Click... she hung up.	Name: Aslynne Marie Hawthorne (A.K.A Az or Azzy) Age: 25 Height: 4’10” (147cm or 1.47m) Gender: Female Appearance: Occupation: Stable Owner and Manager, Trainer and Instructor at Windstar Stables Personal Interests: Reading, Horses, Equestrian Sports of all kinds and kicking Darkling ass Fears: Loss of control over her abilities, physical touch, large crowds, fire and hospitals Power: Mindcaster Misc. Info: Aslynne must almost always have to have music in her ears while in large crowds due to the constant “mind babble” from Daylighters, she loves animals because touching them doesn’t bring or cause pain to others. She’s still in the process of learning to control her rather difficult abilities while trying to balance a normal life. She cannot date or be intimate thanks to her fear of touch. Daylighters wouldn’t understand and she’s sure no Midnighter would want to take the time or risk their mental health at trying to be with her. She wears long sleeves and gloves no matter the season to prevent accidental touching.
5,156	135	13	1,175	849	Danielle laughed when Ved said that this would be the best place for a date. "I would protest with a modicum of modesty but considering it's this or Dan's on 1st, I will agree with this." Danielle said, as she started bouncing on her feet. Ved put the painting on the hook and took the covering off. It was the number 13 and it was beautiful. It took Danielle's breath away, and she turned to him. "Ved." She said, her voice chock full of emotion. She threw her arms around him, hugging him with a bone crushing hug. "Thank you." She whispered into his shoulder, before taking a few deep breaths, stepping away and composing herself. She smiled brightly at him and the painting and then at Tyler. "Isn't he amazing? You need coffee Ved, and one of my new carrot cake donuts." Danielle said, before going to grab just that. She brought them both over to him and then sat down in her previous seat. "Sit, Ved, I was just explaining to Tyler about Brisbane. Or rather I finished explaining about Brisbane. It is truly the definition of a small town." Danielle laughed, taking another bite of her own donut.	Name: Danielle Hyperion Age: 24 Height: 5'7 Gender: Female Occupation: She owns the only decent cafe in town, the Cafe Seville Personal Interests: Computers, cars, her cafe Fears: Her abilities failing, the dark, darklings Power: Fire Bringer Misc. Info: Like any other Firebringer, she doesn't suffer from any adverse affects in the sun Sample: Danielle lit the thirteen candles all around her shop, looked up at thirteen photos with thirteen objects each in them(new photos every two weeks) that were tacked above her door and window, and turned on the radio, which was on station 93.1, and her phone which transmitted to station 93.1 playing only music from 1921. She wasn't sure those last two actually did anything but she loved music from the early twenties and every little bit helped. She was terrified of the Darklings, and never, ever, went out of her cafe during the Blue hour. She had met other ones like her, who tried to persuade her to join them outside, but she wouldn't have it. She knew, theoretically, that if anyone was safest from them it would be her and her ability since they hated the light and the technology, but it still freaked her out. If her abilities ever failed, which they hadn't so far, she'd be screwed against the darklings. Most everyone was scared of the dark at one point or another, and there was a very good reason. The things that go bump in the night were very real and Danielle, with her lights and her technology, was very high on their kill list.
5,157	135	14	2,204	18	Ty didn't really get the picture, but then again he was more often the canvas then the artist, he nodded in agreement anyway. It was pretty neat still after all. Sitting between these clearly close strangers Ty was surprised that he didn't find himself feeling out of place, instead he found himself full of questions that he casually slowly slid into the conversation. "What is Dan's?... What did Ved do?... Had either of the left Bribane? What was Aslynne like and how could he impress her? Besides all that he remained polite and listened intently while sipping his coffee and trying to avoid getting caught occasionally glancing over and checking out Dani.	Name: Tyler Virth Age: 28 Height: Gender: Male Appearance: Occupation: Currently a barman, unable to settle down he often jumps from one casual job to another. Personal Interests: Adrenalin sports, bikes, tattoos, leather, whiskey. Fears: Tyler is claustrophobic, He fears being trapped. He also fears being helpless or considered weak. Power: Acrobat, Misc. Info: Sample: A firm breeze sails the cloudless, star filled sky. A single droplet of sweat accentuates the chill as it falls down the burning warm skin of a bare exposed chest, hiding away a heavy beating heart. His muscular half naked body, a sillouet against the bright full moon cascading down upon the cliff which they stood atop. Tyler or 'Ty' for short impatiently checks his watch. He breathes slow and heavily, watching his warm breath forming clouds in the cold air before him. Meanwhile Kiera, his latest fling, struggles up the steep hill and finally catches him in her sight. He rubs his bloody and bruised knuckles as she approaches behind him. He knows she is there, he can hear her but can't bring himself to turn around. She continues to near. Even as he stares down over the edge of the sheer cliff into the abyss of the darkness far below, he can't shake her from his head, the hours spent fantasising over her dreamy forbidden body were not so easily forgotten. His mind was racing wild, it was a blur of untraceable thoughts. 11:59, close enough. He spins around, "BANG!" The sudden sound shatters the silence and repeats out echoing as it travels the open distance. Ty's ears scream with an echoing ring. Looking out in shock Kiera was not in sight, instead there stood the hulking bearded giant known as Carl, his nose still crooked and dry blood stained his messy long beard that surrounded his gap-tooth grin. Only he wasn't grinning now, panic filled his bloodshot eyes and he drops the heavy metallic device that was in his hand. A gun. Ty looks down to his stomach, he could feel the warmth of his blood spill into his cold hands already clutching the wound. Struck by a sudden dizziness, before he could look back up, he fell. And fell. And fell. The roaring wind around him slowly becoming a gentle breeze as the darkness softly embraces him. 'That'll teach you for playing with another mans woman' he thinks to himself as he floats down the last few meters to meet the waiting dirt landing with a soft thud. A smile breaks his lips, as he groans 'nah it won't'.
5,158	135	15	238	177	It would be just before dark that Aslynne would find her way to Lee’s “secret” forging room. “What about, ‘Chromospheres Chromospheric Chronobiology’? A weapon like that sword is going to need a good name otherwise it’ll loose juice quickly. The longer the better.” The bags she carried had the heady sound of metals. “I brought you some thumbtacks to replenish your wards in your place. I figured it was about time we all replaced them. We still meeting at Danielle’s later? And, are you bringing Virth?” Rummaging through one of the plastic bags she pulled out two clear plastic boxes of one hundred and thirty thumbtacks each with a single gloved hand. “This should be enough for your place right? For all your windows and doors?” His usual unpleasant tea and pumpkin spice flavor was washed with the taste of warm caramel. The taste of Lee’s curiosity. “Don’t even ask, Lee.” Her sunglasses were propped atop her head. She did not need them now that the sun was setting, her Midnighters night vision taking effect. “You don’t want to know how it feels to have the entirety of a person just crash into your mind. It’s unpleasant.”	Name: Aslynne Marie Hawthorne (A.K.A Az or Azzy) Age: 25 Height: 4’10” (147cm or 1.47m) Gender: Female Appearance: Occupation: Stable Owner and Manager, Trainer and Instructor at Windstar Stables Personal Interests: Reading, Horses, Equestrian Sports of all kinds and kicking Darkling ass Fears: Loss of control over her abilities, physical touch, large crowds, fire and hospitals Power: Mindcaster Misc. Info: Aslynne must almost always have to have music in her ears while in large crowds due to the constant “mind babble” from Daylighters, she loves animals because touching them doesn’t bring or cause pain to others. She’s still in the process of learning to control her rather difficult abilities while trying to balance a normal life. She cannot date or be intimate thanks to her fear of touch. Daylighters wouldn’t understand and she’s sure no Midnighter would want to take the time or risk their mental health at trying to be with her. She wears long sleeves and gloves no matter the season to prevent accidental touching.
5,159	135	16	2,204	18	Lee took a break upon Aslynne's arrival. He titled his glasses down a bit to catch the focus on her that only he could. He could do this to identify her and see her as a Midnighter...but he also did it because the view to his naked eye was pleasant upon seeing her. "The name will strike me upon completion of the the work Aslynne." He said tilting his classes back up covering the glare of his violet eyes for a moment. "Ah yes the tacks. Thank you for bringing them it has been on a long list of things I need to do." He said. "And yes we will be. I wish to gather as many Midnighters in proximity as I can. And I'll need your help with that." He took the two packs of tacks from her and set them on his table of projects and notes. He noticed her look at him oddly for a moment and then she obviously caught onto his thoughts. "You cannot blame me for my curiosity." He told her moving to stand in a conversational stance by his table. "And I would rather the entirety of a person crash into my mind than just little bits of lies and deception." He looked down at his table. "Oh I translated this for you. You were right there was a Midnighter who began to breed a special species of horses more attune to resisting and even countering darklings." He handed her his translated script. "There are some instructions there...I figured it's a place to start."	Name: Tyler Virth Age: 28 Height: Gender: Male Appearance: Occupation: Currently a barman, unable to settle down he often jumps from one casual job to another. Personal Interests: Adrenalin sports, bikes, tattoos, leather, whiskey. Fears: Tyler is claustrophobic, He fears being trapped. He also fears being helpless or considered weak. Power: Acrobat, Misc. Info: Sample: A firm breeze sails the cloudless, star filled sky. A single droplet of sweat accentuates the chill as it falls down the burning warm skin of a bare exposed chest, hiding away a heavy beating heart. His muscular half naked body, a sillouet against the bright full moon cascading down upon the cliff which they stood atop. Tyler or 'Ty' for short impatiently checks his watch. He breathes slow and heavily, watching his warm breath forming clouds in the cold air before him. Meanwhile Kiera, his latest fling, struggles up the steep hill and finally catches him in her sight. He rubs his bloody and bruised knuckles as she approaches behind him. He knows she is there, he can hear her but can't bring himself to turn around. She continues to near. Even as he stares down over the edge of the sheer cliff into the abyss of the darkness far below, he can't shake her from his head, the hours spent fantasising over her dreamy forbidden body were not so easily forgotten. His mind was racing wild, it was a blur of untraceable thoughts. 11:59, close enough. He spins around, "BANG!" The sudden sound shatters the silence and repeats out echoing as it travels the open distance. Ty's ears scream with an echoing ring. Looking out in shock Kiera was not in sight, instead there stood the hulking bearded giant known as Carl, his nose still crooked and dry blood stained his messy long beard that surrounded his gap-tooth grin. Only he wasn't grinning now, panic filled his bloodshot eyes and he drops the heavy metallic device that was in his hand. A gun. Ty looks down to his stomach, he could feel the warmth of his blood spill into his cold hands already clutching the wound. Struck by a sudden dizziness, before he could look back up, he fell. And fell. And fell. The roaring wind around him slowly becoming a gentle breeze as the darkness softly embraces him. 'That'll teach you for playing with another mans woman' he thinks to himself as he floats down the last few meters to meet the waiting dirt landing with a soft thud. A smile breaks his lips, as he groans 'nah it won't'.
5,160	135	17	238	177	Aslynne waved away his comment about the name of his sword with one gloved hand. Her phone and earphones stuffed into her back pocket. But, her dismissive gaze turned into something interested when he mentioned about a horse breed able to phase through to the blue time like they could. She settled her small frame on the edge of his table and took the papers he handed to her. “These breeds are easily available. I’ll try to find some crosses so I don’t have to start completely from scratch. The only problem is that they have to be born at midnight... I wonder if I can use the power of suggestion on a horse like that... Or if any horse born at midnight will do.” Sure, she’d heard about Mindcasters doing that to pregnant women when more Midnighters were needed. In fact she’d read about it in some of the Lore, Lee had translated. But, a horse? Or any other animal for that matter. Any creatures walking about were the Darklings and Slithers. “I will read this over and think about setting up a breeding program around it, depends on what I can use those horses for during regular time.” Aslynne gave Lee a shrug. “But, I’m just not ready to voluntarily touch someone okay? It hurts. I’m not excited to have a headache on top of another headache.” She said, they were just within arms reach each other, but she did not reach for him, even with her skin sufficiently covered by clothing.	Name: Aslynne Marie Hawthorne (A.K.A Az or Azzy) Age: 25 Height: 4’10” (147cm or 1.47m) Gender: Female Appearance: Occupation: Stable Owner and Manager, Trainer and Instructor at Windstar Stables Personal Interests: Reading, Horses, Equestrian Sports of all kinds and kicking Darkling ass Fears: Loss of control over her abilities, physical touch, large crowds, fire and hospitals Power: Mindcaster Misc. Info: Aslynne must almost always have to have music in her ears while in large crowds due to the constant “mind babble” from Daylighters, she loves animals because touching them doesn’t bring or cause pain to others. She’s still in the process of learning to control her rather difficult abilities while trying to balance a normal life. She cannot date or be intimate thanks to her fear of touch. Daylighters wouldn’t understand and she’s sure no Midnighter would want to take the time or risk their mental health at trying to be with her. She wears long sleeves and gloves no matter the season to prevent accidental touching.
5,161	135	18	964	923	Ved He smiled, a bit nervously, then coughed lightly at the tight hug, making sure to squeeze her back with equal force. He was glad she liked it, hell, she might even love it, either way it made him happy. He took the complement with a smile, shaking his head playfully at her before sitting down and accepting the coffee and doughnut, taking a long drink of the hot, dark liquid, he smiled at the homey taste, before bringing the doughnut to his mouth and taking a curious bight. He stifled back a laugh, somehow, she had managed to make a pastry that tasted exactly like his Nana's carrot cake, and it was amazing. The carrots were clearly baby carrots with a perfect cream cheese frosting on top, and it was the best tasting donut he had ever consumed. "You have to give me the recipe." He said after he swallowed, leaning back in his chair and lifting the two front legs of the ground, rocking slightly with a bit of frosting on his upper lip. Turning to the new character, he answered the mans questions casually,taking a sip every few minutes. "The Local pub slash family restaurant... Our whole group has an infatuation with thirteen, long story... I go about thirty miles up the road to buy skin ink whenever I'm low... Hard work and Endurance, that's all I can say on the matter..."	Name Micah "Ved" Joel Age 25 Height 5'11 Gender Agender Appearance Occupation Tattoo Artist Personal Interests He is heavily involved with the local punk scene, being a singer for a melodic hardcore band that takes up his time outside of work. Fears (Spiders, Falling, Water etc.) Deathly afraid of Snakes. Power (Acrobat, Fire Bringer, Seer or Polymath) Metallurge Misc. Info None Sample It was the summer of 1996, and it was his sixth birthday. He was celebrating with his family at a man-made beach, which he refused to call anything but the ocean, for it was too "Huge" to be a lake, and he swore that he could taste salt. But likely, that was a combination of the shit in the water and the sweat on his lips, but an eleven year old didn't take that into account. He was with his friends, playing a game they called detector. They would each get a quarter, and bury it in the sand while Ved wasn't looking, then at the very end of the day would have him find where they were hidden. His parents, as well as the other children's parents, never thought anything special of it, and the kids all thought he was cheating, because he could find every hidden coin, and a few extra's, within a matter of minutes. This specific time, it was nickles and penny's that were being hidden, and as he searched, he came across a form that terrified him. He screamed and leaped away from the spot his open palms had been hovering over just seconds before, sobbing violently as he pointed towards the spot. His parents immediately came running, and upon arrival Ved forced them to uncover what he had found, and they stood in awe, gasping, his mother gagged and nearly vomited. After the police arrived, a detective knelt down and asked him, how he found the body. All Ved could do was shake his head and sob, talking about the worms and maggots he saw slithering in the body. He wasn't allowed to play detector again.
5,162	135	19	1,860	875	Infatuation Ved, really? Not even preoccupation? Abel grinned as he came in the door, removing his sunglasses. The sun had gone down enough where the light coming in through the windows of the cafe was tolerable. He walked over to the table where Danielle and Ved were sitting, getting a good look at the stranger. "Uh hey, I'm Abel." He reached out for a handshake. Plopping a leather briefcase onto a corner of the table, he turned to Danielle. He reached in and handed her a bound set of papers. "They asked me to bring this to you. Just your stuff for the quarter. Everything's looking good. I wish you'd tell 'em to let me take over your account, though. You have no idea how hard it is to get in there and correct what Rob's doing." He quickly shut the case and took a seat. "But that's enough of my boring life, what's the latest you've got cooking up here?"	Name: Abel Pereira Age: 24 Height: 5'11" Gender: Male Appearance: Occupation: Accountant Personal Interests: Math, Science, Working Out, People Fears: Feeling Alone, Drowning, Needles Power: Polymath Misc. Info: Abel grew up in a big city, used to its chaos as well as its comforts. He was always pretty good with math, having a natural talent. Naturally, he went to school planning to become and actuarial consultant. The idea of analyzing so much information and making decisions on risk based on the math fascinated him. Then at one point about halfway through college, as part of an internship he came down to Brisbane on business. The moment he got near the town, it seemed his ability with numbers had increased to a ridiculous degree. Not only that, but that first night while at a local college party he discovered this hidden hour. He met the Midnighters who filled him in. Fascinated by the subject he went back and finished school but with the intention to move here when he was done. He's been working in Brisbane as an accountant for two years now. He can't help but see the numbers in just about everything. Sample: Abel rolled his eyes. He couldn't believe he was dealing with this again. He had double checked his numbers, even though he knew he didn't need to. He'd proven time and time again that he didn't make mistakes (except for the ones he threw in on purpose to avoid drawing attention of course). Still the old man insisted that something had to be wrong here. Was it really that hard to believe he'd saved the car wash business THAT much money? No, but it sure was hard for the old man to believe Abel'd done something he couldn't. Whatever, just three more minutes, no five minutes until he could get out of here. The office's clock was two minutes and fourteen seconds slow. Then again, he was a professional wasn't he? Not like he was gonna bolt out to happy hour with his friends the moment the clock struck 5, was it? No, but at least Mr. Arnold seemed satisfied. Despite his impatience, Abel gave his boss a grin. "See, you just gotta trust me. When have I ever let you down?"
5,163	135	20	1,175	849	'our whole group' Tyler slightly raises an eyebrow, he wasn't quite sure how to take it or if they were being serious, he gives a soft "ha" not really knowing what was going on or getting the 'inside conversation'. Still he firmly shakes Ved's hand and greets him. "Tyler, good to meet ya." "You're quite the popular little lady" he whispers across to Dannielle with a smile. What he was really thinking was wich one of these guys she might be romantically invested in already. Habitually, without even realising, Ty found himself caught in old ways as behind his smile he had been sizing up the other two guys like they were opponents. He relaxes slightly not feeling physically threatened. "So this whole town only has one pub and a family resteraunt is attached to it?" He rhetorically asks questioning the cleverness of that last part. "Oh well sounds like I'm gonna have to go check it out for myself a bit later."	Name: Danielle Hyperion Age: 24 Height: 5'7 Gender: Female Occupation: She owns the only decent cafe in town, the Cafe Seville Personal Interests: Computers, cars, her cafe Fears: Her abilities failing, the dark, darklings Power: Fire Bringer Misc. Info: Like any other Firebringer, she doesn't suffer from any adverse affects in the sun Sample: Danielle lit the thirteen candles all around her shop, looked up at thirteen photos with thirteen objects each in them(new photos every two weeks) that were tacked above her door and window, and turned on the radio, which was on station 93.1, and her phone which transmitted to station 93.1 playing only music from 1921. She wasn't sure those last two actually did anything but she loved music from the early twenties and every little bit helped. She was terrified of the Darklings, and never, ever, went out of her cafe during the Blue hour. She had met other ones like her, who tried to persuade her to join them outside, but she wouldn't have it. She knew, theoretically, that if anyone was safest from them it would be her and her ability since they hated the light and the technology, but it still freaked her out. If her abilities ever failed, which they hadn't so far, she'd be screwed against the darklings. Most everyone was scared of the dark at one point or another, and there was a very good reason. The things that go bump in the night were very real and Danielle, with her lights and her technology, was very high on their kill list.
5,164	135	21	2,204	18	"Well I thought if you could bring something you are interested in into the hour it might be beneficial. Give you more of a driving force for what is ahead." He said a bit cryptically. But he turned back to her readiness of touch. She had always avoided it and he knew for her to truly harness her powers she would have to conquer and control what happens when she is touched on the skin. He presented her with a scroll. "You know there have been mindcasters that figured it all out you know. Here is part of one of their journals." He said nodding. "It is possible not to hide under the threads and weaves." He shook his head in compromise. "I'll never force you to do it. But it's part of learning and adapting. It's part of evolving your powers." He smiled only slightly, then he got up again and returned to his workbench. "We will need to gather everyone soon at Cafe Seville. There is much to discuss. Much to prepare for." He came back to his cooled metal as he observed it. "Everyone will need to choose their path. Some will need to grow more confident and some will need to learn to be selfless. We all have our own personal flaws we must subside to work together."	Name: Tyler Virth Age: 28 Height: Gender: Male Appearance: Occupation: Currently a barman, unable to settle down he often jumps from one casual job to another. Personal Interests: Adrenalin sports, bikes, tattoos, leather, whiskey. Fears: Tyler is claustrophobic, He fears being trapped. He also fears being helpless or considered weak. Power: Acrobat, Misc. Info: Sample: A firm breeze sails the cloudless, star filled sky. A single droplet of sweat accentuates the chill as it falls down the burning warm skin of a bare exposed chest, hiding away a heavy beating heart. His muscular half naked body, a sillouet against the bright full moon cascading down upon the cliff which they stood atop. Tyler or 'Ty' for short impatiently checks his watch. He breathes slow and heavily, watching his warm breath forming clouds in the cold air before him. Meanwhile Kiera, his latest fling, struggles up the steep hill and finally catches him in her sight. He rubs his bloody and bruised knuckles as she approaches behind him. He knows she is there, he can hear her but can't bring himself to turn around. She continues to near. Even as he stares down over the edge of the sheer cliff into the abyss of the darkness far below, he can't shake her from his head, the hours spent fantasising over her dreamy forbidden body were not so easily forgotten. His mind was racing wild, it was a blur of untraceable thoughts. 11:59, close enough. He spins around, "BANG!" The sudden sound shatters the silence and repeats out echoing as it travels the open distance. Ty's ears scream with an echoing ring. Looking out in shock Kiera was not in sight, instead there stood the hulking bearded giant known as Carl, his nose still crooked and dry blood stained his messy long beard that surrounded his gap-tooth grin. Only he wasn't grinning now, panic filled his bloodshot eyes and he drops the heavy metallic device that was in his hand. A gun. Ty looks down to his stomach, he could feel the warmth of his blood spill into his cold hands already clutching the wound. Struck by a sudden dizziness, before he could look back up, he fell. And fell. And fell. The roaring wind around him slowly becoming a gentle breeze as the darkness softly embraces him. 'That'll teach you for playing with another mans woman' he thinks to himself as he floats down the last few meters to meet the waiting dirt landing with a soft thud. A smile breaks his lips, as he groans 'nah it won't'.
5,165	135	22	1,860	875	Abel munched on the donut, a smile forming on his lips as he clearly enjoyed it. Washing a bite down with a sip of coffee, he leaned on the tbale with one elbow. "You tell him to bring it. IRS agent or not, I'll take him to school." He laughed as he took another bit of the donut. "I get you though, last thing we need is that loser hanging around. Besides he might be tempted and just make off with all these amazing donuts. And then where would we be?" He looked around the table, noticing a strange look from the new guy. He flashed him a friendly smirk. "Oh it's beautiful all right!" His eyes shone with appreciation. The thirteen itself was pleasing, but the proportions were just perfect. He wasn't sure if Ved had done it on purpose or not, but the painting just felt right. "Ved, stunning work as always. Your masterpiece have a name though?" He looked at Ved expectantly, a flurry of tridecalogisms rushing through his mind. Too bad he didn't know the meaning of half of them.	Name: Abel Pereira Age: 24 Height: 5'11" Gender: Male Appearance: Occupation: Accountant Personal Interests: Math, Science, Working Out, People Fears: Feeling Alone, Drowning, Needles Power: Polymath Misc. Info: Abel grew up in a big city, used to its chaos as well as its comforts. He was always pretty good with math, having a natural talent. Naturally, he went to school planning to become and actuarial consultant. The idea of analyzing so much information and making decisions on risk based on the math fascinated him. Then at one point about halfway through college, as part of an internship he came down to Brisbane on business. The moment he got near the town, it seemed his ability with numbers had increased to a ridiculous degree. Not only that, but that first night while at a local college party he discovered this hidden hour. He met the Midnighters who filled him in. Fascinated by the subject he went back and finished school but with the intention to move here when he was done. He's been working in Brisbane as an accountant for two years now. He can't help but see the numbers in just about everything. Sample: Abel rolled his eyes. He couldn't believe he was dealing with this again. He had double checked his numbers, even though he knew he didn't need to. He'd proven time and time again that he didn't make mistakes (except for the ones he threw in on purpose to avoid drawing attention of course). Still the old man insisted that something had to be wrong here. Was it really that hard to believe he'd saved the car wash business THAT much money? No, but it sure was hard for the old man to believe Abel'd done something he couldn't. Whatever, just three more minutes, no five minutes until he could get out of here. The office's clock was two minutes and fourteen seconds slow. Then again, he was a professional wasn't he? Not like he was gonna bolt out to happy hour with his friends the moment the clock struck 5, was it? No, but at least Mr. Arnold seemed satisfied. Despite his impatience, Abel gave his boss a grin. "See, you just gotta trust me. When have I ever let you down?"
5,166	135	23	964	923	Ved He smiled at the approval, then upon hearing the question of it's name, he looked down, blushing slightly. He had named it the night he promised to make it, and had named it for the future owner. His crush wasn't exactly something that was kept under wraps, and he was sure that she had, on more than one occasion, teased him indirectly for it, but it stood nonetheless. He had been interested in her since 4th grade after all, and despite the occasional question of his sexuality due to it, he had never dated anyone before in his life, as she was the only one he was interested in and the only one he had ever been interested in. Looking up at her, he smiled softly before replying. "Danielle, it's named Danielle."	Name Micah "Ved" Joel Age 25 Height 5'11 Gender Agender Appearance Occupation Tattoo Artist Personal Interests He is heavily involved with the local punk scene, being a singer for a melodic hardcore band that takes up his time outside of work. Fears (Spiders, Falling, Water etc.) Deathly afraid of Snakes. Power (Acrobat, Fire Bringer, Seer or Polymath) Metallurge Misc. Info None Sample It was the summer of 1996, and it was his sixth birthday. He was celebrating with his family at a man-made beach, which he refused to call anything but the ocean, for it was too "Huge" to be a lake, and he swore that he could taste salt. But likely, that was a combination of the shit in the water and the sweat on his lips, but an eleven year old didn't take that into account. He was with his friends, playing a game they called detector. They would each get a quarter, and bury it in the sand while Ved wasn't looking, then at the very end of the day would have him find where they were hidden. His parents, as well as the other children's parents, never thought anything special of it, and the kids all thought he was cheating, because he could find every hidden coin, and a few extra's, within a matter of minutes. This specific time, it was nickles and penny's that were being hidden, and as he searched, he came across a form that terrified him. He screamed and leaped away from the spot his open palms had been hovering over just seconds before, sobbing violently as he pointed towards the spot. His parents immediately came running, and upon arrival Ved forced them to uncover what he had found, and they stood in awe, gasping, his mother gagged and nearly vomited. After the police arrived, a detective knelt down and asked him, how he found the body. All Ved could do was shake his head and sob, talking about the worms and maggots he saw slithering in the body. He wasn't allowed to play detector again.
5,167	135	24	1,175	849	Danielle could feel her heart constricting, almost painfully, when Ved named the piece. She took in an audible breath before she leaned over and kissed Ved on the cheek. "Thank you." She whispered against his cheek before she pulled back, composing herself. Danielle could have feelings for Ved, if she wasn't worried how things would turn out. She's had two girlfriends, three boyfriends, and a fiance at this point, and if things didn't work out with Ved...she didn't know if she could stand that. So she kept away, except for stolen moments like this one. "Well, I think my break has been long enough. I've got to get back to work, but I will see you all soon." She smiled, putting her cheerful persona back on, grabbing anything that wasn't needed at the table, trash and such before getting back to work.	Name: Danielle Hyperion Age: 24 Height: 5'7 Gender: Female Occupation: She owns the only decent cafe in town, the Cafe Seville Personal Interests: Computers, cars, her cafe Fears: Her abilities failing, the dark, darklings Power: Fire Bringer Misc. Info: Like any other Firebringer, she doesn't suffer from any adverse affects in the sun Sample: Danielle lit the thirteen candles all around her shop, looked up at thirteen photos with thirteen objects each in them(new photos every two weeks) that were tacked above her door and window, and turned on the radio, which was on station 93.1, and her phone which transmitted to station 93.1 playing only music from 1921. She wasn't sure those last two actually did anything but she loved music from the early twenties and every little bit helped. She was terrified of the Darklings, and never, ever, went out of her cafe during the Blue hour. She had met other ones like her, who tried to persuade her to join them outside, but she wouldn't have it. She knew, theoretically, that if anyone was safest from them it would be her and her ability since they hated the light and the technology, but it still freaked her out. If her abilities ever failed, which they hadn't so far, she'd be screwed against the darklings. Most everyone was scared of the dark at one point or another, and there was a very good reason. The things that go bump in the night were very real and Danielle, with her lights and her technology, was very high on their kill list.
5,168	135	25	2,048	1,547	Echo looked in at the other Midnighters who sat in Miss Flame Bringer's Café, which had become the usual hangout. The fact that she wouldn't take advantage of Midnight baffled her, and in a way angered her. Only one hour a day when the rules didn't apply, where they were free. Well, kind of. She caught herself beginning to rant to herself and shook her head. She strode over to the door of the Café and pushed the handle inward. For once she would be there before Midnight. As she walked in she noted the absence of Azzy and Lee, the pair were probably at the Dojo. Echo sat at the counter next to Abel and looked at Danielle. "Hey guys, I'm starving! Dani, can I get 3 donuts? And a Coffee, Extra sugar and creamer?" She had a certain affinity for coffee that was so watered down with sugar and creamer that it barely tasted like coffee. Echo swung the Track bag from over her shoulder and plopped it onto the ground. Unzipping the bag, she retrieved a small bag of caramel creams and popped 3 into her mouth, which watered in anticipation. Then she turned to Abel and said, "So, any good Tridecalogisims for this?" She once again reached into her Duffel Bag and this time pulled out a long titanium Field Hockey stick she had stolen from the girls locker room.	Name: Echo Greene Age: 26 Height: 5’ 2” Gender: Female Appearance: Occupation: Track Coach at the local High School Personal Interests: Track, Hiking, Making sick weapons Fears: Heights, tripping, bridges Power: Wayfinder (Wayfinders can see the fastest way to get to where they are going and have the ability to run at high speeds during the secret hour, although this power may not be extended to another Midnighter Like acrobats, they eat alot during daylight hours and like all midnighters, their eyes turn indigo when they look at the Midnight Moon..) Misc. Info: Moved to Brisbane about a year ago after graduating college. When she discovered there was an opening at the local High School she jumped on it, already having developed a love of running. She loves nature but refuses to go into the woods from Eleven to midnight unless it is during the blue time. Sample: Echo felt the adrenaline rush through her as she ran down the streets, the blue glow surrounding everything as it always did at midnight. Her black hair flowed behind her, making her head look like a comet with a blackish blue tail.. Were the cars able to race next to her she would be side by side with them, able to keep up until the dreaded time came when the Blue Moon would set and she would be living life in 5 Mph again. She sometimes wished that the players on her track team could feel the rush of 25 Mph, or even the other Midnighters. She had tried once, to give one her speed. It hadn’t gone well, the other Midnighter had ended up with a sprained wrist. Returning her thoughts to her surroundings, she looked at the line of “Focus” which showed the way to the Cafe. Hopefully the others wouldnt be too mad she was late...
5,169	135	26	238	177	Aslynne raised an eyebrow. “‘What’s a head’?” She repeated. “Lee, you need to stop being so paranoid. If there was going to be some kind of uprising I’d taste it. I live just outside of Darkling Kingdom. Trust me, they’re calming down. I think they’re starting to realize Danielle is more scared of them than they are of her.” Aslynne again took the scroll and sighed. “Look, Lee. I’m glad you want to help, really. It means a whole bunch more than you’d think.” She’d walk her way over to him and placed a glove covered hand on his cheek. Kissing the leather of her glove instead of his skin. It was as affectionate as she got. Hugs were too dangerous and she only gave them to Danielle who knew to turn her head, lest she get a sour brain full of Mindcaster. “Anyway,” She started once she backed away. “I’ll read both of these over and decide what to do. Also don’t forget to put those tacks in or I’ll rip your mind out.” She threatened affectionately as she went to leave. Well, as affectionately as the threat of being “mind ripped” was. Aslynne had to mess around with a lot of adult brains when she’d been younger, and the first attempts had not gone well. But, she was pretty good at it now. She could fine tune a stiff’s mind without much trouble in the Blue Hour. Other than the fact that physical touch from a Daylighter only had negative consequences to her, they didn’t put up a fight when frozen at Midnight. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The silence of the town so late at night was a relief, but the incessant buzz of the other Midnighters in Danielle’s cafe was irritating. Rubbing her temples she was ear phone free. Having to need them less and less. Especially after the Lore Lee had found. But, she’ll dance naked on the bartop at Dan’s when she finally has a headache free day. The image of that itself make her scoff under her breath. Right... like that day will ever come... Aslynne thought to herself. Fifteen minutes till Midnight. Fifteen minutes till the entire world around them silenced and she’d feel sweet relief. The other Midnighters didn’t bother her too much and if she was having a really bad day she could always have just stayed home like she usually did. But, with Tyler not knowing about Midnight... Lee had stressed the importance of her being here. Oh, the things she did for that Seer just about blew her mind sometimes. The sway he had over her... hell maybe he was the real Mindcaster. Not her. Her tall boots held their steel rings on the ankles, her neck a steel choker and her wrists steel arm guards that almost went up to her elbows. Under that was a black “Under Armour” shirt, it’s long sleeves keeping the cold metal off her skin. Lee had made them for her and she constantly renamed them. Tonight the guards were named, “Xerophthalmic” and “Sequestrating”. Her backpack was full of weapons to use and of course a complete first aid kit. To acquire her Riding Instructor Certification she’d had to take a first aid and CPR class. Worst week of her life, but she was glad for the knowledge. She’d stitched up Lee enough times after failed attempts at communicating with Darklings. Stupid man. Still she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was bound to go wrong tonight. Doing a mental roll call in her head she took stock of all the Cafe’s attendees. Danielle was obviously here. Lee was here, Ved, Abel and Echo were here as well. Tyler had yet to show his face and if this was any indication as to what kind of worker he was Aslynne wasn’t sure if she wanted to hire him. Hopefully, he’d find a way to reconcile his work ethics to her later on. Twirling a bracelet around her wrist she quickly grew bored and her head began to pound. Dropping her head to her hand she let out a pained huff. “Lee, where is the damn newbie? Didn’t you tell him to be here?” Aslynne ground out to the Seer. It would be dangerous for Tyler to be out there alone without knowing how to protect himself. Her coffee had gone cold beside her it’s caffeine not enough tonight. She could almost feel the Darklings waking up at this point, but that wasn’t possible. Midnight woke in an instant... not gradual like Normal Time. Though she could taste the dusty, chalky and bitter minds of the Darklings they did not stir. Frozen like Daylighters in the Secret Hour. A darker part of her mind spoke up and she wondered if there was a way to join them; frozen for twenty-four out of twenty-five hours of the day. Oh what sweet relief she’d have.	Name: Aslynne Marie Hawthorne (A.K.A Az or Azzy) Age: 25 Height: 4’10” (147cm or 1.47m) Gender: Female Appearance: Occupation: Stable Owner and Manager, Trainer and Instructor at Windstar Stables Personal Interests: Reading, Horses, Equestrian Sports of all kinds and kicking Darkling ass Fears: Loss of control over her abilities, physical touch, large crowds, fire and hospitals Power: Mindcaster Misc. Info: Aslynne must almost always have to have music in her ears while in large crowds due to the constant “mind babble” from Daylighters, she loves animals because touching them doesn’t bring or cause pain to others. She’s still in the process of learning to control her rather difficult abilities while trying to balance a normal life. She cannot date or be intimate thanks to her fear of touch. Daylighters wouldn’t understand and she’s sure no Midnighter would want to take the time or risk their mental health at trying to be with her. She wears long sleeves and gloves no matter the season to prevent accidental touching.
5,170	135	27	1,175	849	Tyler would go through a fair bit for the attention of pretty dame, but this 'tea and cakes' routine while marvelling over some contemporary pop art was becoming too much 'it's a bloody thirteen' he thought to himself silently. Feeling a little crowded, as soon as Dannielle was back to work he excused himself with the appropriate pleasantries and a moment later his bike roared to life and he was off. ------------------------- Hours passed, midnight neared. Tyler was nowhere insight despite Lee's clear instructions, all of a sudden the company phone in the cafe bursts to life ringing loudly over the quiet chatter, insistently demanding attention.	Name: Danielle Hyperion Age: 24 Height: 5'7 Gender: Female Occupation: She owns the only decent cafe in town, the Cafe Seville Personal Interests: Computers, cars, her cafe Fears: Her abilities failing, the dark, darklings Power: Fire Bringer Misc. Info: Like any other Firebringer, she doesn't suffer from any adverse affects in the sun Sample: Danielle lit the thirteen candles all around her shop, looked up at thirteen photos with thirteen objects each in them(new photos every two weeks) that were tacked above her door and window, and turned on the radio, which was on station 93.1, and her phone which transmitted to station 93.1 playing only music from 1921. She wasn't sure those last two actually did anything but she loved music from the early twenties and every little bit helped. She was terrified of the Darklings, and never, ever, went out of her cafe during the Blue hour. She had met other ones like her, who tried to persuade her to join them outside, but she wouldn't have it. She knew, theoretically, that if anyone was safest from them it would be her and her ability since they hated the light and the technology, but it still freaked her out. If her abilities ever failed, which they hadn't so far, she'd be screwed against the darklings. Most everyone was scared of the dark at one point or another, and there was a very good reason. The things that go bump in the night were very real and Danielle, with her lights and her technology, was very high on their kill list.
5,171	135	28	1,175	849	Echo, stop it. We are in the company of guests. Danielle warned the Wayfinder, bringing her a selection of donuts and coffee just the way she knew Echo liked it. She watched Tyler leave, and caught up to him quickly, handing him her business card. "Hey, don't be a stranger. My cell is on the back, don't be afraid to call. Oh! And if things ever...if things ever look blue, swing round here. I'll try my best to help." Danielle smiled, before waving slightly and hearing her name being yelled from the other side of the store. "Duty calls." She laughed, before walking away. Danielle was in her apartment above her cafe. Her other Midnighters hadn't arrived yet, so she was alone. She had the line wired up to her apartment, just in case someone ever called her hard line. She went over to the phone, wondering who'd be calling her on this one so late. She always had her cell on her, because more people knew about that number then her cafe's. "Cafe Seville, home to the best coffee in Brisbane, how can I help you?" Danielle asked, her full southern charm on as she brought the phone to her counter and leaned against it. It was the farthest she could go, since it was a corded phone.	Name: Danielle Hyperion Age: 24 Height: 5'7 Gender: Female Occupation: She owns the only decent cafe in town, the Cafe Seville Personal Interests: Computers, cars, her cafe Fears: Her abilities failing, the dark, darklings Power: Fire Bringer Misc. Info: Like any other Firebringer, she doesn't suffer from any adverse affects in the sun Sample: Danielle lit the thirteen candles all around her shop, looked up at thirteen photos with thirteen objects each in them(new photos every two weeks) that were tacked above her door and window, and turned on the radio, which was on station 93.1, and her phone which transmitted to station 93.1 playing only music from 1921. She wasn't sure those last two actually did anything but she loved music from the early twenties and every little bit helped. She was terrified of the Darklings, and never, ever, went out of her cafe during the Blue hour. She had met other ones like her, who tried to persuade her to join them outside, but she wouldn't have it. She knew, theoretically, that if anyone was safest from them it would be her and her ability since they hated the light and the technology, but it still freaked her out. If her abilities ever failed, which they hadn't so far, she'd be screwed against the darklings. Most everyone was scared of the dark at one point or another, and there was a very good reason. The things that go bump in the night were very real and Danielle, with her lights and her technology, was very high on their kill list.
5,172	135	29	1,175	849	{I planned this call to follow Ayla's time skip, - 15min to midnight.} Sorry if it wasn't clear. And sorry Ty is a jerk when drunk He is at the police station and has a little clue about what happens at midnight. "Why as dis DOUCHEBAG got ya number?" An agitated accusation loudly slurs it way down the phone line, abruptly cutting of Danielle's polite professional answering voice. In the background a stern calm voice advises the phone holder. Sir, you only have five minu... He is suddenly cut off as the phone crackles as it is muffled but the words are still clearly heard. "((You only have five minutes, now go fuck off and let me make my call...))" The phone crackles again followed by some heavy breathing and a groan of pain. The drunk voice continues, "Danni babe, sexy, sweetie" He says softly, dragging out the words trying to sound friendly. The same tone Dannielle had doubtlessly heard before from those 'dine and dashes' when caught and pleading. "It'sh Ty!" He pauses, the silence drags on, finally he returns interrupting Dannielle if she was talking. "Damn I thought it happened already, it's ok these bastards can't hold me." He sounds optimistically sure of himself. Then the echo of his muffled shout can be heard as he abuses the guard again. "((You will see, just you wait, I'll be gone and you will be standing around with your pants around your ankles, if you small town useless rent'a cops just waited I woulda had all the money, paid for those watered down drinks and..))" The phone crackles and his voice runs down it in a harsh distorted whisper as he holds it too close to his mouth. "So Danni, where ere we.... Oh yea guess what, I'm magic...so ow you doi(ng) (("Just Fu")) beep beep beep, the engaged tone signals the end of his five minutes of drunken slurred ranting.	Name: Danielle Hyperion Age: 24 Height: 5'7 Gender: Female Occupation: She owns the only decent cafe in town, the Cafe Seville Personal Interests: Computers, cars, her cafe Fears: Her abilities failing, the dark, darklings Power: Fire Bringer Misc. Info: Like any other Firebringer, she doesn't suffer from any adverse affects in the sun Sample: Danielle lit the thirteen candles all around her shop, looked up at thirteen photos with thirteen objects each in them(new photos every two weeks) that were tacked above her door and window, and turned on the radio, which was on station 93.1, and her phone which transmitted to station 93.1 playing only music from 1921. She wasn't sure those last two actually did anything but she loved music from the early twenties and every little bit helped. She was terrified of the Darklings, and never, ever, went out of her cafe during the Blue hour. She had met other ones like her, who tried to persuade her to join them outside, but she wouldn't have it. She knew, theoretically, that if anyone was safest from them it would be her and her ability since they hated the light and the technology, but it still freaked her out. If her abilities ever failed, which they hadn't so far, she'd be screwed against the darklings. Most everyone was scared of the dark at one point or another, and there was a very good reason. The things that go bump in the night were very real and Danielle, with her lights and her technology, was very high on their kill list.
5,173	135	30	1,175	849	He's not a rent a cop. He's an actually cop and you were in actual jail. You could thank me you know. Danielle said, before getting up and grabbing her first aid kit and a bottle of water. She moved over to him, handing him the bottle of water. "Can I clean up your face? You're going to get an infection if I don't disinfect that lip." Danielle asked him, gently. She sat down next to him this time and just observed him. "You know most people get completely pissed at three in the morning, at least you did it at a decent hour." Danielle laughed softly, shaking her head. She reached behind her, taking her hair out of it's braid so it could fall free and maybe save herself from the tension headache that she could feel coming on. Probably not but a girl can hope.	Name: Danielle Hyperion Age: 24 Height: 5'7 Gender: Female Occupation: She owns the only decent cafe in town, the Cafe Seville Personal Interests: Computers, cars, her cafe Fears: Her abilities failing, the dark, darklings Power: Fire Bringer Misc. Info: Like any other Firebringer, she doesn't suffer from any adverse affects in the sun Sample: Danielle lit the thirteen candles all around her shop, looked up at thirteen photos with thirteen objects each in them(new photos every two weeks) that were tacked above her door and window, and turned on the radio, which was on station 93.1, and her phone which transmitted to station 93.1 playing only music from 1921. She wasn't sure those last two actually did anything but she loved music from the early twenties and every little bit helped. She was terrified of the Darklings, and never, ever, went out of her cafe during the Blue hour. She had met other ones like her, who tried to persuade her to join them outside, but she wouldn't have it. She knew, theoretically, that if anyone was safest from them it would be her and her ability since they hated the light and the technology, but it still freaked her out. If her abilities ever failed, which they hadn't so far, she'd be screwed against the darklings. Most everyone was scared of the dark at one point or another, and there was a very good reason. The things that go bump in the night were very real and Danielle, with her lights and her technology, was very high on their kill list.
5,174	135	31	2,204	18	Tyler didn't respond as he took the bottle of water, Danielle was right. He needn't use words, it was written on his face, the guilt was setting in as the alcohol left his system. Either unable to find words or just not ready to speak he instead just tilts his head back so she can easily get to his injuries. "Thank you" he whispers after a while, sitting as still and patient as possible while she dabs a wet cloth on his wounds. As she steps back to asses her work Tyler turns his head to catch her eyes, he looks at her for a moment, his lips slowly waver but no sounds come out. He had decided against what ever he was going to say and takes a sip from his water before turning his head to the side so Danielle could continue.	Name: Tyler Virth Age: 28 Height: Gender: Male Appearance: Occupation: Currently a barman, unable to settle down he often jumps from one casual job to another. Personal Interests: Adrenalin sports, bikes, tattoos, leather, whiskey. Fears: Tyler is claustrophobic, He fears being trapped. He also fears being helpless or considered weak. Power: Acrobat, Misc. Info: Sample: A firm breeze sails the cloudless, star filled sky. A single droplet of sweat accentuates the chill as it falls down the burning warm skin of a bare exposed chest, hiding away a heavy beating heart. His muscular half naked body, a sillouet against the bright full moon cascading down upon the cliff which they stood atop. Tyler or 'Ty' for short impatiently checks his watch. He breathes slow and heavily, watching his warm breath forming clouds in the cold air before him. Meanwhile Kiera, his latest fling, struggles up the steep hill and finally catches him in her sight. He rubs his bloody and bruised knuckles as she approaches behind him. He knows she is there, he can hear her but can't bring himself to turn around. She continues to near. Even as he stares down over the edge of the sheer cliff into the abyss of the darkness far below, he can't shake her from his head, the hours spent fantasising over her dreamy forbidden body were not so easily forgotten. His mind was racing wild, it was a blur of untraceable thoughts. 11:59, close enough. He spins around, "BANG!" The sudden sound shatters the silence and repeats out echoing as it travels the open distance. Ty's ears scream with an echoing ring. Looking out in shock Kiera was not in sight, instead there stood the hulking bearded giant known as Carl, his nose still crooked and dry blood stained his messy long beard that surrounded his gap-tooth grin. Only he wasn't grinning now, panic filled his bloodshot eyes and he drops the heavy metallic device that was in his hand. A gun. Ty looks down to his stomach, he could feel the warmth of his blood spill into his cold hands already clutching the wound. Struck by a sudden dizziness, before he could look back up, he fell. And fell. And fell. The roaring wind around him slowly becoming a gentle breeze as the darkness softly embraces him. 'That'll teach you for playing with another mans woman' he thinks to himself as he floats down the last few meters to meet the waiting dirt landing with a soft thud. A smile breaks his lips, as he groans 'nah it won't'.
5,175	135	32	1,175	849	Danielle dabbed at his wound, not saying anything until she grabbed the rubbing alcohol, pouring a bit on the cloth. "This is going to hurt, I'm sorry." She said quietly, before she dabbed at it twice until she was sure it was clean. She tossed the rag onto her counter, and sat next to him again, exhaling. "You have a place you're staying at?" Danielle asked him, glancing at the clock. It was almost midnight, and she thought she could hear someone downstairs in the cafe but to Tyler, it would only be a few minutes until 12:01. "I can drive you there in a few minutes, or you're welcome to stay here for the night and we'll figure something in the morning. Everything always looks better in the morning. Except maybe those bruises, those might look pretty nasty in the light." Danielle tried to joke, to lighten the mood but she didn't know if it came across quite right.	Name: Danielle Hyperion Age: 24 Height: 5'7 Gender: Female Occupation: She owns the only decent cafe in town, the Cafe Seville Personal Interests: Computers, cars, her cafe Fears: Her abilities failing, the dark, darklings Power: Fire Bringer Misc. Info: Like any other Firebringer, she doesn't suffer from any adverse affects in the sun Sample: Danielle lit the thirteen candles all around her shop, looked up at thirteen photos with thirteen objects each in them(new photos every two weeks) that were tacked above her door and window, and turned on the radio, which was on station 93.1, and her phone which transmitted to station 93.1 playing only music from 1921. She wasn't sure those last two actually did anything but she loved music from the early twenties and every little bit helped. She was terrified of the Darklings, and never, ever, went out of her cafe during the Blue hour. She had met other ones like her, who tried to persuade her to join them outside, but she wouldn't have it. She knew, theoretically, that if anyone was safest from them it would be her and her ability since they hated the light and the technology, but it still freaked her out. If her abilities ever failed, which they hadn't so far, she'd be screwed against the darklings. Most everyone was scared of the dark at one point or another, and there was a very good reason. The things that go bump in the night were very real and Danielle, with her lights and her technology, was very high on their kill list.
5,176	135	33	1,175	849	'You have a place you're staying at' "Yea" Tyler lied softly in response, he heard the people downstairs and even if he was suppose to meet Lee and Aslynne here (which was a weird time and place for an interview) he was feeling much worse than he looked and was in no state of mind to be dealing with others. Tyler chuckles as Dannielle lightens the mood, but his cheerfulness is cut short by a groan of pain as he clutches his side. "Ahh don't make me smile or laugh" he teases, still smiling. "Thanks but I have already imposed more than enough and the fresh air will do me some good." .... "Well I better get going, you got a backdoor I can sneak out?" Tyler asks, standing from his chair. What he really wanted to do was go check on his bike.	Name: Danielle Hyperion Age: 24 Height: 5'7 Gender: Female Occupation: She owns the only decent cafe in town, the Cafe Seville Personal Interests: Computers, cars, her cafe Fears: Her abilities failing, the dark, darklings Power: Fire Bringer Misc. Info: Like any other Firebringer, she doesn't suffer from any adverse affects in the sun Sample: Danielle lit the thirteen candles all around her shop, looked up at thirteen photos with thirteen objects each in them(new photos every two weeks) that were tacked above her door and window, and turned on the radio, which was on station 93.1, and her phone which transmitted to station 93.1 playing only music from 1921. She wasn't sure those last two actually did anything but she loved music from the early twenties and every little bit helped. She was terrified of the Darklings, and never, ever, went out of her cafe during the Blue hour. She had met other ones like her, who tried to persuade her to join them outside, but she wouldn't have it. She knew, theoretically, that if anyone was safest from them it would be her and her ability since they hated the light and the technology, but it still freaked her out. If her abilities ever failed, which they hadn't so far, she'd be screwed against the darklings. Most everyone was scared of the dark at one point or another, and there was a very good reason. The things that go bump in the night were very real and Danielle, with her lights and her technology, was very high on their kill list.
5,177	135	34	2,048	1,547	Tyler replies with a chuckle then a groan, "alright alright, just stop acting tough ok" he teases as he hobbles over to a wall to lean against. "If you're gonna be keeping me prisoner you have to at least let me use your shower." He jokes as he looks around the apartment trying to guess which way leads to the bathroom. "And here I thought I was an individual, So just how many other guys like me have you kidnaped?" He tries to lightly pry a little. His voice softens and goes serious, "But seriously thankyou so much for everything you have done."	Name: Echo Greene Age: 26 Height: 5’ 2” Gender: Female Appearance: Occupation: Track Coach at the local High School Personal Interests: Track, Hiking, Making sick weapons Fears: Heights, tripping, bridges Power: Wayfinder (Wayfinders can see the fastest way to get to where they are going and have the ability to run at high speeds during the secret hour, although this power may not be extended to another Midnighter Like acrobats, they eat alot during daylight hours and like all midnighters, their eyes turn indigo when they look at the Midnight Moon..) Misc. Info: Moved to Brisbane about a year ago after graduating college. When she discovered there was an opening at the local High School she jumped on it, already having developed a love of running. She loves nature but refuses to go into the woods from Eleven to midnight unless it is during the blue time. Sample: Echo felt the adrenaline rush through her as she ran down the streets, the blue glow surrounding everything as it always did at midnight. Her black hair flowed behind her, making her head look like a comet with a blackish blue tail.. Were the cars able to race next to her she would be side by side with them, able to keep up until the dreaded time came when the Blue Moon would set and she would be living life in 5 Mph again. She sometimes wished that the players on her track team could feel the rush of 25 Mph, or even the other Midnighters. She had tried once, to give one her speed. It hadn’t gone well, the other Midnighter had ended up with a sprained wrist. Returning her thoughts to her surroundings, she looked at the line of “Focus” which showed the way to the Cafe. Hopefully the others wouldnt be too mad she was late...
5,178	135	35	1,175	849	What? You think I can't be tough? Danielle laughed softly, shaking her head. She opened a door near her which was a cupboard, filled with towels and things. She grabbed a towel, a washcloth, and some of those hotel shampoo and body wash things and handed them to him. "I figure you don't want to smell like fiery passion." Danielle smirked at him, before leading him to the bathroom. It was small, but it had a decent sized tub and that's all she really cared about. When he asked her how often she did this, she shrugged. "You're the first one I've kept prisoner at my apartment, most I keep prisoner within their own home, or down in the cafe while I try and figure out what's going on. You're just too big, and too injured, of an engima to let slip through my fingers." Danielle explained, as opened her shower curtain to explain the shower controls. "So, pretty easy just turn the knob until it's warm enough for you and you change the pressure on the shower head, just turn the dorsel thing to the left or right." She explained before turning back to face him. "Think you need anything else from me at the moment? I'll try to dig up some clothes that might fit you because I doubt any of my clothes will." She laughed, eyeing him up and down.	Name: Danielle Hyperion Age: 24 Height: 5'7 Gender: Female Occupation: She owns the only decent cafe in town, the Cafe Seville Personal Interests: Computers, cars, her cafe Fears: Her abilities failing, the dark, darklings Power: Fire Bringer Misc. Info: Like any other Firebringer, she doesn't suffer from any adverse affects in the sun Sample: Danielle lit the thirteen candles all around her shop, looked up at thirteen photos with thirteen objects each in them(new photos every two weeks) that were tacked above her door and window, and turned on the radio, which was on station 93.1, and her phone which transmitted to station 93.1 playing only music from 1921. She wasn't sure those last two actually did anything but she loved music from the early twenties and every little bit helped. She was terrified of the Darklings, and never, ever, went out of her cafe during the Blue hour. She had met other ones like her, who tried to persuade her to join them outside, but she wouldn't have it. She knew, theoretically, that if anyone was safest from them it would be her and her ability since they hated the light and the technology, but it still freaked her out. If her abilities ever failed, which they hadn't so far, she'd be screwed against the darklings. Most everyone was scared of the dark at one point or another, and there was a very good reason. The things that go bump in the night were very real and Danielle, with her lights and her technology, was very high on their kill list.
5,179	135	36	964	923	Haha, I'm sure you're very tough, hell I wouldn't want to mess with you. "Fiery passion, so that's what that lovely smell is?" Tyler says with a flirty laugh. He takes the things handed to him and listens to the instructions. Afterwards he looks down at his shirt, it had become quite the tattered mess, blood stains, beer and who knows what. "If you had anything that would be great, thanks." He gives Danielle a final nod, "actually I could probably use some help in here." He jokes just before closing the door and the sound of water rushing through the pipes ensues.	Name Micah "Ved" Joel Age 25 Height 5'11 Gender Agender Appearance Occupation Tattoo Artist Personal Interests He is heavily involved with the local punk scene, being a singer for a melodic hardcore band that takes up his time outside of work. Fears (Spiders, Falling, Water etc.) Deathly afraid of Snakes. Power (Acrobat, Fire Bringer, Seer or Polymath) Metallurge Misc. Info None Sample It was the summer of 1996, and it was his sixth birthday. He was celebrating with his family at a man-made beach, which he refused to call anything but the ocean, for it was too "Huge" to be a lake, and he swore that he could taste salt. But likely, that was a combination of the shit in the water and the sweat on his lips, but an eleven year old didn't take that into account. He was with his friends, playing a game they called detector. They would each get a quarter, and bury it in the sand while Ved wasn't looking, then at the very end of the day would have him find where they were hidden. His parents, as well as the other children's parents, never thought anything special of it, and the kids all thought he was cheating, because he could find every hidden coin, and a few extra's, within a matter of minutes. This specific time, it was nickles and penny's that were being hidden, and as he searched, he came across a form that terrified him. He screamed and leaped away from the spot his open palms had been hovering over just seconds before, sobbing violently as he pointed towards the spot. His parents immediately came running, and upon arrival Ved forced them to uncover what he had found, and they stood in awe, gasping, his mother gagged and nearly vomited. After the police arrived, a detective knelt down and asked him, how he found the body. All Ved could do was shake his head and sob, talking about the worms and maggots he saw slithering in the body. He wasn't allowed to play detector again.
5,180	135	37	238	177	Aslynne rolled her bright blue eyes with a snort. “Can you at least not think so loud then? You’re going to make me paranoid about Darklings. I’m already crazy enough, I don’t need to start hallucinating.” The images his mind screamed out all but smacked her in the face. Making her head pound all the harder. ‘Wayfinders are the best!’ She heard from Echo making Aslynne scoff out loud. “Yeah sure, the best until a Darkling figures out a way to match you in speed.” Aslynne could imagine some of the old ones doing that. They never had a solid form and those freaky tendril things... she shivered at the thought of being touched by one of them. Her fears couldn’t have been something normal like spiders or bugs, no she had to be afraid of fire... you know painful stuff. “Danielle left to go pick up Tyler from jail, I can taste them, they’re at her place, but she pushing it too close.” Aslynne spoke up about Danielle. Nine more minutes until she could breathe without feeling like her head was about to explode. Aslynne got up to pace the floor of the cafe anxious like she always was about the impending blue time wanting that silence. Checking her watch literally every thirty seconds. “I’ll go up and escort her and Tyler down if they’re not here before Midnight. Best go check on them now though. Don’t wait for us.” Aslynne stood from her seat and grabbed her back full of weapons to climb the external staircase to Danielle’s home, she could feel the relief of the acrobat’s shower washing over him and she shuddered at the image it forced into her head. Rubbing her arms against the chill she took the stairs two at a time until she was before Dani’s door. Knocking and shifting the backpack over her shoulder she said loudly. “Hey! Dani, you’re pushing it close let me in!”	Name: Aslynne Marie Hawthorne (A.K.A Az or Azzy) Age: 25 Height: 4’10” (147cm or 1.47m) Gender: Female Appearance: Occupation: Stable Owner and Manager, Trainer and Instructor at Windstar Stables Personal Interests: Reading, Horses, Equestrian Sports of all kinds and kicking Darkling ass Fears: Loss of control over her abilities, physical touch, large crowds, fire and hospitals Power: Mindcaster Misc. Info: Aslynne must almost always have to have music in her ears while in large crowds due to the constant “mind babble” from Daylighters, she loves animals because touching them doesn’t bring or cause pain to others. She’s still in the process of learning to control her rather difficult abilities while trying to balance a normal life. She cannot date or be intimate thanks to her fear of touch. Daylighters wouldn’t understand and she’s sure no Midnighter would want to take the time or risk their mental health at trying to be with her. She wears long sleeves and gloves no matter the season to prevent accidental touching.
5,181	135	38	1,175	849	In your dreams! Danielle called to Tyler before she went to go find him clothes. She managed to find a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants from a previous boyfriend that looked like they would fit Tyler. She set him in front of her bathroom door, just as she heard Azzy knock on her door. "It's fine Az, I still got a couple minutes." Dani opened the door regardless, letting her friend into the apartment. "You know me, I'm the pinicle of caution. I just have Tyler in my shower and it would be weird if I opened the door and left as he's in the shower. I figure the closer I get to midnight, the safer I am there. Besides, it's not like I'm miles away from my safe place." Danielle said, as she checked her clock. All of her clocks were exact, as she didn't want to be caught unawares of the time. She still had seven minutes left, and there was no need to be hasty. "Is everyone else down there?" Dani asked, peaking outside to where her parking lot was.	Name: Danielle Hyperion Age: 24 Height: 5'7 Gender: Female Occupation: She owns the only decent cafe in town, the Cafe Seville Personal Interests: Computers, cars, her cafe Fears: Her abilities failing, the dark, darklings Power: Fire Bringer Misc. Info: Like any other Firebringer, she doesn't suffer from any adverse affects in the sun Sample: Danielle lit the thirteen candles all around her shop, looked up at thirteen photos with thirteen objects each in them(new photos every two weeks) that were tacked above her door and window, and turned on the radio, which was on station 93.1, and her phone which transmitted to station 93.1 playing only music from 1921. She wasn't sure those last two actually did anything but she loved music from the early twenties and every little bit helped. She was terrified of the Darklings, and never, ever, went out of her cafe during the Blue hour. She had met other ones like her, who tried to persuade her to join them outside, but she wouldn't have it. She knew, theoretically, that if anyone was safest from them it would be her and her ability since they hated the light and the technology, but it still freaked her out. If her abilities ever failed, which they hadn't so far, she'd be screwed against the darklings. Most everyone was scared of the dark at one point or another, and there was a very good reason. The things that go bump in the night were very real and Danielle, with her lights and her technology, was very high on their kill list.
5,182	135	39	238	177	“Yeah, we’re all downstairs. Ved is even all dressed and ready to go. For what I’m not sure exactly... Darklings and Slithers are at an all time low.” Aslynne’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline as if she had just remembered something. “I brought something for you.” Her bag hit the floor with a light thump and Aslynne quickly pulled out the black steel Maglight. “I know you don’t like going outside during the blue hour, but this should help in case you have no other choice.” Aslynne held it out to Danielle, the weight of the cold steel was heavy. It would make a good weapon just to hit something with, but in the hands of the Fire Bringer it was life saving. “In case I’m not around to beat those damn Slithers into submission.” Aslynne’s lips curled up into a silent snarl that could rival a Darkling Panther’s at the thought of zapping those damn blood thirsty creatures with the sparkly blue fire metals seemed to give off. “Anyway, I don’t think we’re going to be going outside for a while tonight. We have a new member to ‘initiate’.” Aslynne did a pretty good imitation of Lee when she wanted to. It was almost scary.	Name: Aslynne Marie Hawthorne (A.K.A Az or Azzy) Age: 25 Height: 4’10” (147cm or 1.47m) Gender: Female Appearance: Occupation: Stable Owner and Manager, Trainer and Instructor at Windstar Stables Personal Interests: Reading, Horses, Equestrian Sports of all kinds and kicking Darkling ass Fears: Loss of control over her abilities, physical touch, large crowds, fire and hospitals Power: Mindcaster Misc. Info: Aslynne must almost always have to have music in her ears while in large crowds due to the constant “mind babble” from Daylighters, she loves animals because touching them doesn’t bring or cause pain to others. She’s still in the process of learning to control her rather difficult abilities while trying to balance a normal life. She cannot date or be intimate thanks to her fear of touch. Daylighters wouldn’t understand and she’s sure no Midnighter would want to take the time or risk their mental health at trying to be with her. She wears long sleeves and gloves no matter the season to prevent accidental touching.
5,183	135	40	2,204	18	"I'll try to think of things less...darkling?" He said unsure how to calm the focus he had now for her. She would just have to deal with it for now. Lee was glad to hear that the two missing were on their way now. And he trusted Aslynne to go get them with little trouble. The hour grew closer and Lee could feel his eyes twitching a bit. The hour made his vision more sharp against the darklings. Everything appearing more clear as well as the Midnighters. There were a few here he hadn't met yet so he offered his introduction while he waited. He noticed Abel and Ved aside the counter. He walked over to greet them. "Hey there fellas. It's nice to know we have a polymath and metallurge among us." He said. "My name is Lee. Seer. I see and read things clearly that you cannot." He told them.	Name: Tyler Virth Age: 28 Height: Gender: Male Appearance: Occupation: Currently a barman, unable to settle down he often jumps from one casual job to another. Personal Interests: Adrenalin sports, bikes, tattoos, leather, whiskey. Fears: Tyler is claustrophobic, He fears being trapped. He also fears being helpless or considered weak. Power: Acrobat, Misc. Info: Sample: A firm breeze sails the cloudless, star filled sky. A single droplet of sweat accentuates the chill as it falls down the burning warm skin of a bare exposed chest, hiding away a heavy beating heart. His muscular half naked body, a sillouet against the bright full moon cascading down upon the cliff which they stood atop. Tyler or 'Ty' for short impatiently checks his watch. He breathes slow and heavily, watching his warm breath forming clouds in the cold air before him. Meanwhile Kiera, his latest fling, struggles up the steep hill and finally catches him in her sight. He rubs his bloody and bruised knuckles as she approaches behind him. He knows she is there, he can hear her but can't bring himself to turn around. She continues to near. Even as he stares down over the edge of the sheer cliff into the abyss of the darkness far below, he can't shake her from his head, the hours spent fantasising over her dreamy forbidden body were not so easily forgotten. His mind was racing wild, it was a blur of untraceable thoughts. 11:59, close enough. He spins around, "BANG!" The sudden sound shatters the silence and repeats out echoing as it travels the open distance. Ty's ears scream with an echoing ring. Looking out in shock Kiera was not in sight, instead there stood the hulking bearded giant known as Carl, his nose still crooked and dry blood stained his messy long beard that surrounded his gap-tooth grin. Only he wasn't grinning now, panic filled his bloodshot eyes and he drops the heavy metallic device that was in his hand. A gun. Ty looks down to his stomach, he could feel the warmth of his blood spill into his cold hands already clutching the wound. Struck by a sudden dizziness, before he could look back up, he fell. And fell. And fell. The roaring wind around him slowly becoming a gentle breeze as the darkness softly embraces him. 'That'll teach you for playing with another mans woman' he thinks to himself as he floats down the last few meters to meet the waiting dirt landing with a soft thud. A smile breaks his lips, as he groans 'nah it won't'.
5,184	135	41	1,175	849	Danielle smiled at Azzy as she took the maglite and put it on top of her tv stand. "I'm surprised everyone is already here." Danielle said before she processed that there was a new midnighter in town. The only new person she knew of in town was currently in her shower. "Well...he's currently in my shower. How do you propose I tell him he needs to get out so and that we need to meet in my cafe?" Danielle asked, with a raised eyebrow as she glanced at the clock.	Name: Danielle Hyperion Age: 24 Height: 5'7 Gender: Female Occupation: She owns the only decent cafe in town, the Cafe Seville Personal Interests: Computers, cars, her cafe Fears: Her abilities failing, the dark, darklings Power: Fire Bringer Misc. Info: Like any other Firebringer, she doesn't suffer from any adverse affects in the sun Sample: Danielle lit the thirteen candles all around her shop, looked up at thirteen photos with thirteen objects each in them(new photos every two weeks) that were tacked above her door and window, and turned on the radio, which was on station 93.1, and her phone which transmitted to station 93.1 playing only music from 1921. She wasn't sure those last two actually did anything but she loved music from the early twenties and every little bit helped. She was terrified of the Darklings, and never, ever, went out of her cafe during the Blue hour. She had met other ones like her, who tried to persuade her to join them outside, but she wouldn't have it. She knew, theoretically, that if anyone was safest from them it would be her and her ability since they hated the light and the technology, but it still freaked her out. If her abilities ever failed, which they hadn't so far, she'd be screwed against the darklings. Most everyone was scared of the dark at one point or another, and there was a very good reason. The things that go bump in the night were very real and Danielle, with her lights and her technology, was very high on their kill list.
5,185	135	42	238	177	“Let me handle this.” Aslynne said, briskly walking over to the bathroom door. Knocking loudly, and all but yelling, “Hey! Badass McGee. Time’s up.” Tyler’s flash of fear tasted bitter on her tongue like vinegar before it ebbed to the sweet cane sugar taste of relief. “The shower is the worst place to be caught in at midnight around here.” Turning back to Danielle she said, “I’m a little surprised too, I don’t think we’ve all be in the same place at the same time since we were kids. I don’t even think Lee has met Ved and Abel and he’s been here for four years!” Aslynne’s strawberry blonde hair was braided down her back to be kept out of the way. A habit after a Darkling had almost killed her with it’s grip on her hair when she’d been a child. Blue eyes brightening at the thought that Midnight was almost here. “Three more minutes.” She said to Danielle stepping over to the window that faced the street below. “I was hoping you wouldn’t have to make a mad dash down the stairs.”	Name: Aslynne Marie Hawthorne (A.K.A Az or Azzy) Age: 25 Height: 4’10” (147cm or 1.47m) Gender: Female Appearance: Occupation: Stable Owner and Manager, Trainer and Instructor at Windstar Stables Personal Interests: Reading, Horses, Equestrian Sports of all kinds and kicking Darkling ass Fears: Loss of control over her abilities, physical touch, large crowds, fire and hospitals Power: Mindcaster Misc. Info: Aslynne must almost always have to have music in her ears while in large crowds due to the constant “mind babble” from Daylighters, she loves animals because touching them doesn’t bring or cause pain to others. She’s still in the process of learning to control her rather difficult abilities while trying to balance a normal life. She cannot date or be intimate thanks to her fear of touch. Daylighters wouldn’t understand and she’s sure no Midnighter would want to take the time or risk their mental health at trying to be with her. She wears long sleeves and gloves no matter the season to prevent accidental touching.
5,186	135	43	1,860	875	There was a crashing and a bang followed by a groan as the sound of water rushing through the pipes came to a squeaking halt. Ty could be heard grumbling within the room then suddenly the door creeked open just wide enough for his injury stricken face to pop through along with a billowing cloud of steam. "Sorry, what's the rush?" He asks as he suspiciously eyes the clothes laid out for him before snatching them up and disappearing back into a cloud of steam closing the door behind him.	Name: Abel Pereira Age: 24 Height: 5'11" Gender: Male Appearance: Occupation: Accountant Personal Interests: Math, Science, Working Out, People Fears: Feeling Alone, Drowning, Needles Power: Polymath Misc. Info: Abel grew up in a big city, used to its chaos as well as its comforts. He was always pretty good with math, having a natural talent. Naturally, he went to school planning to become and actuarial consultant. The idea of analyzing so much information and making decisions on risk based on the math fascinated him. Then at one point about halfway through college, as part of an internship he came down to Brisbane on business. The moment he got near the town, it seemed his ability with numbers had increased to a ridiculous degree. Not only that, but that first night while at a local college party he discovered this hidden hour. He met the Midnighters who filled him in. Fascinated by the subject he went back and finished school but with the intention to move here when he was done. He's been working in Brisbane as an accountant for two years now. He can't help but see the numbers in just about everything. Sample: Abel rolled his eyes. He couldn't believe he was dealing with this again. He had double checked his numbers, even though he knew he didn't need to. He'd proven time and time again that he didn't make mistakes (except for the ones he threw in on purpose to avoid drawing attention of course). Still the old man insisted that something had to be wrong here. Was it really that hard to believe he'd saved the car wash business THAT much money? No, but it sure was hard for the old man to believe Abel'd done something he couldn't. Whatever, just three more minutes, no five minutes until he could get out of here. The office's clock was two minutes and fourteen seconds slow. Then again, he was a professional wasn't he? Not like he was gonna bolt out to happy hour with his friends the moment the clock struck 5, was it? No, but at least Mr. Arnold seemed satisfied. Despite his impatience, Abel gave his boss a grin. "See, you just gotta trust me. When have I ever let you down?"
5,187	135	44	238	177	Aslynne was clearly not tempted by the small amount of flesh she saw from the crack in Danielle’s bathroom door Tyler was peeking out of. “Midnight.” She said simply. “Midnight is a bad place for you to be in the bathroom you’ll get water everywhere and that’s rude to your most gracious hostess.” She raised her voice a bit as he shut the door on her. She shuddered and her eyes closed her head tilting back as she sniffed at the air. “Two more minutes, Tyler. You best hurry it up.” Aslynne threatened as she sensed the oncoming midnight. Turning towards Danielle Aslynne gave a smirk. “So, what’s the deal, you like him or something?” Aslynne poked her friend playfully in the ribs doing a peppy little dance. “You gotta crush?”	Name: Aslynne Marie Hawthorne (A.K.A Az or Azzy) Age: 25 Height: 4’10” (147cm or 1.47m) Gender: Female Appearance: Occupation: Stable Owner and Manager, Trainer and Instructor at Windstar Stables Personal Interests: Reading, Horses, Equestrian Sports of all kinds and kicking Darkling ass Fears: Loss of control over her abilities, physical touch, large crowds, fire and hospitals Power: Mindcaster Misc. Info: Aslynne must almost always have to have music in her ears while in large crowds due to the constant “mind babble” from Daylighters, she loves animals because touching them doesn’t bring or cause pain to others. She’s still in the process of learning to control her rather difficult abilities while trying to balance a normal life. She cannot date or be intimate thanks to her fear of touch. Daylighters wouldn’t understand and she’s sure no Midnighter would want to take the time or risk their mental health at trying to be with her. She wears long sleeves and gloves no matter the season to prevent accidental touching.
5,188	135	45	1,175	849	I gotta a crush on half the guys in this town Az, you know me. I just can't keep it in my pants, but he needs help and I can give it. What kind of person would I be if I did otherwise? Danielle said, shaking her head before checking the time again. "I need to go downstairs, it's too close. I'll see you in a bit." Danielle said, putting her shoes back on and going outside, downstairs and into her cafe. "Ready for midnight?" She asked, smiling at the four in her cafe. She passed Lee first, kissing him on the cheek on her way to get her lighter for when midnight comes. "How are you Lee, I haven't seen you round here in awhile. You know I have a mug with your name on it." She said with a smile.	Name: Danielle Hyperion Age: 24 Height: 5'7 Gender: Female Occupation: She owns the only decent cafe in town, the Cafe Seville Personal Interests: Computers, cars, her cafe Fears: Her abilities failing, the dark, darklings Power: Fire Bringer Misc. Info: Like any other Firebringer, she doesn't suffer from any adverse affects in the sun Sample: Danielle lit the thirteen candles all around her shop, looked up at thirteen photos with thirteen objects each in them(new photos every two weeks) that were tacked above her door and window, and turned on the radio, which was on station 93.1, and her phone which transmitted to station 93.1 playing only music from 1921. She wasn't sure those last two actually did anything but she loved music from the early twenties and every little bit helped. She was terrified of the Darklings, and never, ever, went out of her cafe during the Blue hour. She had met other ones like her, who tried to persuade her to join them outside, but she wouldn't have it. She knew, theoretically, that if anyone was safest from them it would be her and her ability since they hated the light and the technology, but it still freaked her out. If her abilities ever failed, which they hadn't so far, she'd be screwed against the darklings. Most everyone was scared of the dark at one point or another, and there was a very good reason. The things that go bump in the night were very real and Danielle, with her lights and her technology, was very high on their kill list.
5,189	135	46	2,048	1,547	"Hey Danni! As ready as I can be!" Echo called out to the Flame Bringer, waving. She couldn't wait for the stroke of the clock that would bring about the glorious Blue Time that they were all waiting for. She reached into her Track duffle and retrieved a few items from it, including Automatically Criminalizing Contamination which was the titanium field hockey stick. On her neck sat Extraordinary Exterminating Feminizations, a steel chain with 78 (It didn't take a Polymath to figure out that 13x6=78) links and 13 charms, one of which was a Tridecagram. On one arm were 13 thin steel bangles each with its own name. She got up and walked over to where the others were. "Is there anything secret we're trying to keep from me and that's why we're all huddled over here?" Echo teased, giggling a little.	Name: Echo Greene Age: 26 Height: 5’ 2” Gender: Female Appearance: Occupation: Track Coach at the local High School Personal Interests: Track, Hiking, Making sick weapons Fears: Heights, tripping, bridges Power: Wayfinder (Wayfinders can see the fastest way to get to where they are going and have the ability to run at high speeds during the secret hour, although this power may not be extended to another Midnighter Like acrobats, they eat alot during daylight hours and like all midnighters, their eyes turn indigo when they look at the Midnight Moon..) Misc. Info: Moved to Brisbane about a year ago after graduating college. When she discovered there was an opening at the local High School she jumped on it, already having developed a love of running. She loves nature but refuses to go into the woods from Eleven to midnight unless it is during the blue time. Sample: Echo felt the adrenaline rush through her as she ran down the streets, the blue glow surrounding everything as it always did at midnight. Her black hair flowed behind her, making her head look like a comet with a blackish blue tail.. Were the cars able to race next to her she would be side by side with them, able to keep up until the dreaded time came when the Blue Moon would set and she would be living life in 5 Mph again. She sometimes wished that the players on her track team could feel the rush of 25 Mph, or even the other Midnighters. She had tried once, to give one her speed. It hadn’t gone well, the other Midnighter had ended up with a sprained wrist. Returning her thoughts to her surroundings, she looked at the line of “Focus” which showed the way to the Cafe. Hopefully the others wouldnt be too mad she was late...
5,190	135	47	2,204	18	Ty just figured she was mad about the job interview that he believed he was supposed to be attending. Had he not just nearly stood her up he would have been making some joke or sly remark about there being enough time for 'both' of them but as this could potentially be his new employer he didn't want to push his luck. The thought was still stuck in his mind however. -lucky they can't read his thoughts- Tyler comes out with less then a minute to spare, pulling the tight shirt down over his still slightly damp torso. A glimps of his chest tattoo's would have reveal the familiar sight of the number 13 and a thirteen pointed star hidden amongst everything else.	Name: Tyler Virth Age: 28 Height: Gender: Male Appearance: Occupation: Currently a barman, unable to settle down he often jumps from one casual job to another. Personal Interests: Adrenalin sports, bikes, tattoos, leather, whiskey. Fears: Tyler is claustrophobic, He fears being trapped. He also fears being helpless or considered weak. Power: Acrobat, Misc. Info: Sample: A firm breeze sails the cloudless, star filled sky. A single droplet of sweat accentuates the chill as it falls down the burning warm skin of a bare exposed chest, hiding away a heavy beating heart. His muscular half naked body, a sillouet against the bright full moon cascading down upon the cliff which they stood atop. Tyler or 'Ty' for short impatiently checks his watch. He breathes slow and heavily, watching his warm breath forming clouds in the cold air before him. Meanwhile Kiera, his latest fling, struggles up the steep hill and finally catches him in her sight. He rubs his bloody and bruised knuckles as she approaches behind him. He knows she is there, he can hear her but can't bring himself to turn around. She continues to near. Even as he stares down over the edge of the sheer cliff into the abyss of the darkness far below, he can't shake her from his head, the hours spent fantasising over her dreamy forbidden body were not so easily forgotten. His mind was racing wild, it was a blur of untraceable thoughts. 11:59, close enough. He spins around, "BANG!" The sudden sound shatters the silence and repeats out echoing as it travels the open distance. Ty's ears scream with an echoing ring. Looking out in shock Kiera was not in sight, instead there stood the hulking bearded giant known as Carl, his nose still crooked and dry blood stained his messy long beard that surrounded his gap-tooth grin. Only he wasn't grinning now, panic filled his bloodshot eyes and he drops the heavy metallic device that was in his hand. A gun. Ty looks down to his stomach, he could feel the warmth of his blood spill into his cold hands already clutching the wound. Struck by a sudden dizziness, before he could look back up, he fell. And fell. And fell. The roaring wind around him slowly becoming a gentle breeze as the darkness softly embraces him. 'That'll teach you for playing with another mans woman' he thinks to himself as he floats down the last few meters to meet the waiting dirt landing with a soft thud. A smile breaks his lips, as he groans 'nah it won't'.
5,191	135	48	964	923	Ved He cringed inwardly at the mention of his powers. He spent every second of everyday forcing himself to ignore the metals and minerals under his feet, and in doing so he could often be triggered into acknowledging them all in a surge of knowledge slamming into him with the force of a train. Sitting down, his wraps pulled tightly against his flesh, and due to the darkness of the corner he was in, and how similar his skin tone was to the cloth, he could easily be confused as naked. He moved his hand to his temple, rubbing small circles to ease the headache that the seer, likely aware of what he was doing, had given him in mentioning his abilities. It reminded him of why he wasn't a fan of the guy. Looking up, he kept a close eye on the clock, seeing that the time was nearly approaching, then stood up and grabbed a short blade made of Malachite from the counter. "Motherfucking Monomorphisms." He said with a soft chuckle, he loved using the letter 'M' for weapon titles, as 'M' was the 13th letter of the alphabet, and allowed him to use the term 'motherfucking' in a non accusatory sense.	Name Micah "Ved" Joel Age 25 Height 5'11 Gender Agender Appearance Occupation Tattoo Artist Personal Interests He is heavily involved with the local punk scene, being a singer for a melodic hardcore band that takes up his time outside of work. Fears (Spiders, Falling, Water etc.) Deathly afraid of Snakes. Power (Acrobat, Fire Bringer, Seer or Polymath) Metallurge Misc. Info None Sample It was the summer of 1996, and it was his sixth birthday. He was celebrating with his family at a man-made beach, which he refused to call anything but the ocean, for it was too "Huge" to be a lake, and he swore that he could taste salt. But likely, that was a combination of the shit in the water and the sweat on his lips, but an eleven year old didn't take that into account. He was with his friends, playing a game they called detector. They would each get a quarter, and bury it in the sand while Ved wasn't looking, then at the very end of the day would have him find where they were hidden. His parents, as well as the other children's parents, never thought anything special of it, and the kids all thought he was cheating, because he could find every hidden coin, and a few extra's, within a matter of minutes. This specific time, it was nickles and penny's that were being hidden, and as he searched, he came across a form that terrified him. He screamed and leaped away from the spot his open palms had been hovering over just seconds before, sobbing violently as he pointed towards the spot. His parents immediately came running, and upon arrival Ved forced them to uncover what he had found, and they stood in awe, gasping, his mother gagged and nearly vomited. After the police arrived, a detective knelt down and asked him, how he found the body. All Ved could do was shake his head and sob, talking about the worms and maggots he saw slithering in the body. He wasn't allowed to play detector again.
5,192	135	49	238	177	“I can read your thoughts actually, do you mind not thinking so loud? You’re not helping my headache.” Aslynne said reaching for his hand to tug him outside if he’d go with her. Her backpack already over her shoulder. “Midnight is almost here and we don’t have much time to get you inside and safe.” Butterflies hit her stomach more like rocks than fluttering wings as she got hit by everyone’s tension about the coming midnight... was she the only person who enjoyed it? It shuddered across the landscape as fast as a freight train and hit her just as hard. the sweet silence of midnight, only interrupted by the primal thoughts of Darklings and the irritating buzz of the other Midnighters. Lee’s arrogant sweet and sour taste floating over tongue five times as bad. Eyes snapped over to Tyler, knowing his power would have taken effect as soon as midnight hit them. “Too late...” She said. Midnight was here.	Name: Aslynne Marie Hawthorne (A.K.A Az or Azzy) Age: 25 Height: 4’10” (147cm or 1.47m) Gender: Female Appearance: Occupation: Stable Owner and Manager, Trainer and Instructor at Windstar Stables Personal Interests: Reading, Horses, Equestrian Sports of all kinds and kicking Darkling ass Fears: Loss of control over her abilities, physical touch, large crowds, fire and hospitals Power: Mindcaster Misc. Info: Aslynne must almost always have to have music in her ears while in large crowds due to the constant “mind babble” from Daylighters, she loves animals because touching them doesn’t bring or cause pain to others. She’s still in the process of learning to control her rather difficult abilities while trying to balance a normal life. She cannot date or be intimate thanks to her fear of touch. Daylighters wouldn’t understand and she’s sure no Midnighter would want to take the time or risk their mental health at trying to be with her. She wears long sleeves and gloves no matter the season to prevent accidental touching.
5,193	135	50	238	177	Tyler was about to scoff and challenge that ridiculous comment about reading thoughts, even if it was well timed... but surely she couldn't see the saucy things he had in his head. "Oh yea so what.." He had began asking as she pulled on his hand. He wasn't ready, still a little hungover and caught off balance he stumbled into some unknown clutter before tripping over and falling straight towards Aslynne. 'Too late.' He heard her call from the open door as he frantically tried to bring his feet infront of himself and kicked at the floor to gain balance... But something was wrong, He was no longer falling, but flying, crashing straight into Aslynne the two went tumbling out the open door and rolling down the stairs. A dumbfound, confused and slightly panicked Tyler squeezed Aslynne's hand as she anchored him down while he frustratingly continued to try push or kick himself upright only to float around and be jerked back down by Aslynne or pull her off balance. The two continued this acrobatic tumble untill they lie at the bottom of the stairs with Aslynne on top, pinning Tyler down. His eyes wide, face painted white with shock, oblivious to any injuries he just incurred. "I, I'm scared to move.." He manages to stammer out in a whisper.	Name: Aslynne Marie Hawthorne (A.K.A Az or Azzy) Age: 25 Height: 4’10” (147cm or 1.47m) Gender: Female Appearance: Occupation: Stable Owner and Manager, Trainer and Instructor at Windstar Stables Personal Interests: Reading, Horses, Equestrian Sports of all kinds and kicking Darkling ass Fears: Loss of control over her abilities, physical touch, large crowds, fire and hospitals Power: Mindcaster Misc. Info: Aslynne must almost always have to have music in her ears while in large crowds due to the constant “mind babble” from Daylighters, she loves animals because touching them doesn’t bring or cause pain to others. She’s still in the process of learning to control her rather difficult abilities while trying to balance a normal life. She cannot date or be intimate thanks to her fear of touch. Daylighters wouldn’t understand and she’s sure no Midnighter would want to take the time or risk their mental health at trying to be with her. She wears long sleeves and gloves no matter the season to prevent accidental touching.
5,194	135	51	964	923	Ved He watched as Tyler fell down the stairs, with Aslynne on top of him, and forced himself to keep a straight face, despite how damn funny this guy looked when he was scared shitless. Being the metallurge, he made it his job to stay as grounded as possible during the blue hour, and knew that whenever the darklings finally attacked, he would defend everyone he could. Watching them stand up, he stepped forward and asked them, a bit more concerned about one of them than the other. "Ash, you ok?" He asked gently, hoping that she wasn't registering his pain from the intensity of his powers.	Name Micah "Ved" Joel Age 25 Height 5'11 Gender Agender Appearance Occupation Tattoo Artist Personal Interests He is heavily involved with the local punk scene, being a singer for a melodic hardcore band that takes up his time outside of work. Fears (Spiders, Falling, Water etc.) Deathly afraid of Snakes. Power (Acrobat, Fire Bringer, Seer or Polymath) Metallurge Misc. Info None Sample It was the summer of 1996, and it was his sixth birthday. He was celebrating with his family at a man-made beach, which he refused to call anything but the ocean, for it was too "Huge" to be a lake, and he swore that he could taste salt. But likely, that was a combination of the shit in the water and the sweat on his lips, but an eleven year old didn't take that into account. He was with his friends, playing a game they called detector. They would each get a quarter, and bury it in the sand while Ved wasn't looking, then at the very end of the day would have him find where they were hidden. His parents, as well as the other children's parents, never thought anything special of it, and the kids all thought he was cheating, because he could find every hidden coin, and a few extra's, within a matter of minutes. This specific time, it was nickles and penny's that were being hidden, and as he searched, he came across a form that terrified him. He screamed and leaped away from the spot his open palms had been hovering over just seconds before, sobbing violently as he pointed towards the spot. His parents immediately came running, and upon arrival Ved forced them to uncover what he had found, and they stood in awe, gasping, his mother gagged and nearly vomited. After the police arrived, a detective knelt down and asked him, how he found the body. All Ved could do was shake his head and sob, talking about the worms and maggots he saw slithering in the body. He wasn't allowed to play detector again.
5,195	135	52	238	177	After Aslynne rolled to the side Tyler lay still and silent for a moment, regaining his breath, taking in the sight, her words, recent events. He lifted a leg in the air and let is slowly drift back down. He raised his free arm and sway it about studying the sensation. "Wha, what the hell is going on?" He asks, visibly shaken. Suddenly his arm slams down hitting the ground and shooting his upper body up into a seating position. He smiled and winced at the same time. Bringing his arms around in front of himself he looks down at his shaking hands, "Ah SHIT!" He growls seeing a finger jutting off sideways from the first joint. "Ahh, yea I think I'm ok," he responded to Ved without seeing him. "Are you?" He asks through gritted teeth as he twisted to look at Aslynne. Questions ran through his head, tall buildings? Floating feeling? The colour? But his instincts to look after others overrode all that as he coped with the strangeness by doing what was natural for him. With his good hand he reaches up to part her hair and inspect the wound. "Oh god I'm so sorry"	Name: Aslynne Marie Hawthorne (A.K.A Az or Azzy) Age: 25 Height: 4’10” (147cm or 1.47m) Gender: Female Appearance: Occupation: Stable Owner and Manager, Trainer and Instructor at Windstar Stables Personal Interests: Reading, Horses, Equestrian Sports of all kinds and kicking Darkling ass Fears: Loss of control over her abilities, physical touch, large crowds, fire and hospitals Power: Mindcaster Misc. Info: Aslynne must almost always have to have music in her ears while in large crowds due to the constant “mind babble” from Daylighters, she loves animals because touching them doesn’t bring or cause pain to others. She’s still in the process of learning to control her rather difficult abilities while trying to balance a normal life. She cannot date or be intimate thanks to her fear of touch. Daylighters wouldn’t understand and she’s sure no Midnighter would want to take the time or risk their mental health at trying to be with her. She wears long sleeves and gloves no matter the season to prevent accidental touching.
5,196	135	53	1,175	849	What the hell is going on? Dani went to the door of her cafe but no further until Tyler brushed against Aslynne. She went outside, put her sleeves over her hands, and pulled Azzy away from Tyler and into the cafe, and onto one of the couches in her cafe. "Get Tyler in here so he doesn't go floating away." Danielle said, glancing at her unlit candles before going to grab her first aid kit. "I'm putting gloves on Azzy, can I check out your head?" She asked, sliding the gloves onto her hands, showing them to Azzy.	Name: Danielle Hyperion Age: 24 Height: 5'7 Gender: Female Occupation: She owns the only decent cafe in town, the Cafe Seville Personal Interests: Computers, cars, her cafe Fears: Her abilities failing, the dark, darklings Power: Fire Bringer Misc. Info: Like any other Firebringer, she doesn't suffer from any adverse affects in the sun Sample: Danielle lit the thirteen candles all around her shop, looked up at thirteen photos with thirteen objects each in them(new photos every two weeks) that were tacked above her door and window, and turned on the radio, which was on station 93.1, and her phone which transmitted to station 93.1 playing only music from 1921. She wasn't sure those last two actually did anything but she loved music from the early twenties and every little bit helped. She was terrified of the Darklings, and never, ever, went out of her cafe during the Blue hour. She had met other ones like her, who tried to persuade her to join them outside, but she wouldn't have it. She knew, theoretically, that if anyone was safest from them it would be her and her ability since they hated the light and the technology, but it still freaked her out. If her abilities ever failed, which they hadn't so far, she'd be screwed against the darklings. Most everyone was scared of the dark at one point or another, and there was a very good reason. The things that go bump in the night were very real and Danielle, with her lights and her technology, was very high on their kill list.
5,197	135	54	238	177	Aslynne tucked her head between her knees a hand over her head wound so she didn’t bleed on the floor. “Yeah...” She said to Dani. “Newbie is okay though right, I don’t think I got an answer from him before...” Aslynne shuddered and made an dry retching sound as her concussed mind tried to focus on all the tastes of the Midnighters all lashed with the sickly bile taste of pity and the sugary sweet taste of concern. All the while the feel of the Darklings battered at her throbbing mind. The last vestiges of Tyler’s memories floated through her mind as she tried to keep herself from falling forward face first into the floor before the room finally stopped spinning and Aslynne could sit up for Danielle. Pulling of her now blood soaked leather glove from her hand, the five fingered appendages shook a little. “Tyler has a broken finger I’m going to have to reset.” Aslynne spoke as she recalled his worry over it when he’d touched her. “He lied and said he was fine...”	Name: Aslynne Marie Hawthorne (A.K.A Az or Azzy) Age: 25 Height: 4’10” (147cm or 1.47m) Gender: Female Appearance: Occupation: Stable Owner and Manager, Trainer and Instructor at Windstar Stables Personal Interests: Reading, Horses, Equestrian Sports of all kinds and kicking Darkling ass Fears: Loss of control over her abilities, physical touch, large crowds, fire and hospitals Power: Mindcaster Misc. Info: Aslynne must almost always have to have music in her ears while in large crowds due to the constant “mind babble” from Daylighters, she loves animals because touching them doesn’t bring or cause pain to others. She’s still in the process of learning to control her rather difficult abilities while trying to balance a normal life. She cannot date or be intimate thanks to her fear of touch. Daylighters wouldn’t understand and she’s sure no Midnighter would want to take the time or risk their mental health at trying to be with her. She wears long sleeves and gloves no matter the season to prevent accidental touching.
5,198	135	55	2,204	18	Lee was right there watching as the Midnighters started to interact as a group. It was fumbling but it was interesting to see the first interactions. Aslynne had been hurt and according to her Tyler was lying about his own well being. They were going to have to trust each other to get anywhere in the coming storm. Lee stepped in. "Come here Tyler." He said in a commanding voice. He was going to reset that finger. "Don't worry Az you just settle your mind with Danielle's help." He said as Tyler came closer. Lee quickly took his hand and with a swift movement of his thumb on his finger the finger reset back into place. "Just don't put in pressure on it for awhile." Lee had planned on taking the group out to experience and encounter with lesser darklings...but with what had happened it looked like more of an hour in the cafe.	Name: Tyler Virth Age: 28 Height: Gender: Male Appearance: Occupation: Currently a barman, unable to settle down he often jumps from one casual job to another. Personal Interests: Adrenalin sports, bikes, tattoos, leather, whiskey. Fears: Tyler is claustrophobic, He fears being trapped. He also fears being helpless or considered weak. Power: Acrobat, Misc. Info: Sample: A firm breeze sails the cloudless, star filled sky. A single droplet of sweat accentuates the chill as it falls down the burning warm skin of a bare exposed chest, hiding away a heavy beating heart. His muscular half naked body, a sillouet against the bright full moon cascading down upon the cliff which they stood atop. Tyler or 'Ty' for short impatiently checks his watch. He breathes slow and heavily, watching his warm breath forming clouds in the cold air before him. Meanwhile Kiera, his latest fling, struggles up the steep hill and finally catches him in her sight. He rubs his bloody and bruised knuckles as she approaches behind him. He knows she is there, he can hear her but can't bring himself to turn around. She continues to near. Even as he stares down over the edge of the sheer cliff into the abyss of the darkness far below, he can't shake her from his head, the hours spent fantasising over her dreamy forbidden body were not so easily forgotten. His mind was racing wild, it was a blur of untraceable thoughts. 11:59, close enough. He spins around, "BANG!" The sudden sound shatters the silence and repeats out echoing as it travels the open distance. Ty's ears scream with an echoing ring. Looking out in shock Kiera was not in sight, instead there stood the hulking bearded giant known as Carl, his nose still crooked and dry blood stained his messy long beard that surrounded his gap-tooth grin. Only he wasn't grinning now, panic filled his bloodshot eyes and he drops the heavy metallic device that was in his hand. A gun. Ty looks down to his stomach, he could feel the warmth of his blood spill into his cold hands already clutching the wound. Struck by a sudden dizziness, before he could look back up, he fell. And fell. And fell. The roaring wind around him slowly becoming a gentle breeze as the darkness softly embraces him. 'That'll teach you for playing with another mans woman' he thinks to himself as he floats down the last few meters to meet the waiting dirt landing with a soft thud. A smile breaks his lips, as he groans 'nah it won't'.
5,199	135	56	2,204	18	What had he just done to her! Tyler watched Danni take Aslynne away. Guilt turning in his gut. His head ached so incredibly that he was numb to everything else. Heck, what had she just done to him!? He had flown back and lay sprawled across the floor from her the sudden shove. Those voices, those tastes! JUST WHAT IN THE HELL WAS GOING ON!? But he had just heard it, or felt it. The blue hour. They all knew about it. Tyler just saw himself from Ved's eyes. Afraid, helpless, useless. He could feel the way he looked down at him. These were Danni's friends, the same Danni he imposed on and interrupted only a few hours ago. He didn't belong here or with these calm people. He looked towards Lee as he scampered further back across the floor, something in the mans voice and demeanour demanded attention so Tyler cautiously complied. He let out a viscous groan through gritted teeth as his finger was straightened. Cradling the injured hand he slowly backs away, familiarising with his awkward steps. He didn't know exactly what was going on but he did know what the people thought he could do. 'Leap tall buildings in a single bound' the words made sense now. Tyler spun himself around almost spinning too far. He looks in the direction leading away from everyone and coil's himself up on his legs, ready to push off with a mighty leap and test this power... Tyler had done many dangerous things, laughed in the face of unruly violent uneven odds, pushed cars and bikes beyond their speed limits just for a rush, seen his life flash before his eyes... and none of it scared him more then how he felt right now. This... This was just too much. He had to get away from it all!	Name: Tyler Virth Age: 28 Height: Gender: Male Appearance: Occupation: Currently a barman, unable to settle down he often jumps from one casual job to another. Personal Interests: Adrenalin sports, bikes, tattoos, leather, whiskey. Fears: Tyler is claustrophobic, He fears being trapped. He also fears being helpless or considered weak. Power: Acrobat, Misc. Info: Sample: A firm breeze sails the cloudless, star filled sky. A single droplet of sweat accentuates the chill as it falls down the burning warm skin of a bare exposed chest, hiding away a heavy beating heart. His muscular half naked body, a sillouet against the bright full moon cascading down upon the cliff which they stood atop. Tyler or 'Ty' for short impatiently checks his watch. He breathes slow and heavily, watching his warm breath forming clouds in the cold air before him. Meanwhile Kiera, his latest fling, struggles up the steep hill and finally catches him in her sight. He rubs his bloody and bruised knuckles as she approaches behind him. He knows she is there, he can hear her but can't bring himself to turn around. She continues to near. Even as he stares down over the edge of the sheer cliff into the abyss of the darkness far below, he can't shake her from his head, the hours spent fantasising over her dreamy forbidden body were not so easily forgotten. His mind was racing wild, it was a blur of untraceable thoughts. 11:59, close enough. He spins around, "BANG!" The sudden sound shatters the silence and repeats out echoing as it travels the open distance. Ty's ears scream with an echoing ring. Looking out in shock Kiera was not in sight, instead there stood the hulking bearded giant known as Carl, his nose still crooked and dry blood stained his messy long beard that surrounded his gap-tooth grin. Only he wasn't grinning now, panic filled his bloodshot eyes and he drops the heavy metallic device that was in his hand. A gun. Ty looks down to his stomach, he could feel the warmth of his blood spill into his cold hands already clutching the wound. Struck by a sudden dizziness, before he could look back up, he fell. And fell. And fell. The roaring wind around him slowly becoming a gentle breeze as the darkness softly embraces him. 'That'll teach you for playing with another mans woman' he thinks to himself as he floats down the last few meters to meet the waiting dirt landing with a soft thud. A smile breaks his lips, as he groans 'nah it won't'.

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