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<\|description\|>Karram Sylian Age: 56 Gender: Male Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Seelie Sidhe (Faerie) Physical Description: Talents:-Flight: The ability to fly with proficient maneuverability for a long duration of time. -Nature Magic: The ability to manipulate nature in various ways such as entangling creatures with branches or roots, concealing himself within the earth, or harnessing energy from plant life to strengthen his blade. -Illusory Manipulation: Can use Illusion Magic to disguise himself or create minor sensory illusions against others. -Sleep Inducing Magic: The ability to induce a narcoleptic state of sleep in targeted creatures. (Related: Karram also has the innate ability to create illusions or send messages to sentient beings in their dreams.) -Empathy: The ability to perceive people's emotions and motives. -Sword-fighting: He is a trained swordfighter. History:The Sylian branch family is renowned in the faerie community of Ireland. For centuries they have served as judges in the Seelie Court, with the primary responsibility of doling out punishment for faeries who have committed crimes against the mortals or faerie brethren. Karram Sylian's family was different however. He was the unfortunate product of an unlawful relationship between a Seelie faerie and an Unseelie faerie. His father was pronounced a traitor to the community and both he and his forbidden lover were executed. Karram Sylian was to be banished from the Seelie Court and sent to the Ashen Pit where Unseelie miscreants lived. However his father's brother, Eromyr, was able to convince the council to spare the infant faerie and grant him 20 years of life to prove his usefulness to the community. The council gave in and allowed Eromyr to adopt Karram and teach him as his own. For the next 15 years Karram grew up learning the ways of the Seelie Court, faerie magic, and other resourceful trades. He never learned about his past or birth parents until his 16th birthday. Eromyr sat him down and explained the scenario that lead to his birth. Astonished and heartbroken, Karram spent the next few weeks lazing in a deep depression. But eventually he came to his senses and decided his life's work would be to amend his family's honor and eventually become Seelie Grandmaster. On his 20th birthday Karram was brought before the council of elders and rigorously tested. His incredibly honed skills and vast faerie knowledge surprised the council, and so they let him live. Five years later Karram was appointed as a Seelie Adviser, the same position his uncle Eromyr held. He and Eromyr were sent with several others to the United States to set up a new branch of the Seelie Court within the supernatural communities that exist there. Karram was especially excited to travel to a new place where he could make a name for himself without the past haunting his every move. For the last 31 years, Karram has served as an adviser in the courts. He is known for his ability to detect the emotions and motives of defendants as well as his overall intelligence and loyalty; even receiving a few nods from Count Caradoc in the past. In the human world, Karram originally disguised himself as a young and ambitious David Rodgers. He took up a job as an attorney and excelled in the position for just over 20 years. However he was commanded by the courts to change both his disguise and persona due to skepticism in his office over his apparent lack of aging. So he adopted the name Karl Silverman and has since been working for the IRS at the request of the courts (presumably so he could look into some of the supernaturals who mingle with with the humans). But now everything has changed. The resurrection of Nemsemet and the slaughter of the Count and his high council has caused chaos in the supernatural world, and the last thing Karram wants is for that chaos to spill into the mortal world. Because if it does, it could bring the whole world to its knees... Psychological Profile:Karram is unlike most faeries in many ways. Determined and courageous, Karram is always looking to prove himself useful to his community; and to himself. He hides his insecurities and depression by focusing entirely on work, and so he could easily be seen as a workaholic. He finds the usual rambunctious and mischievous nature of his fellow faeries to be immature; whereas he tends to focus on more serious matters. However he does share a deep distrust for Unseelie Sidhe due to his interactions with them in the courts as well as the indoctrination he experienced living with the Seelie Sidhe community in Ireland. Outside of combat or work, Karram is relatively quiet and often becomes entranced in his own thoughts. He also has trouble turning off his professionalism considering he doesn't harbor many actual friendships. Possessions:-Oakbane, a custom blade enchanted with earthen magic. -Sylian Pendant, a necklace worn by members of the Sylian Branch Family. -Faerie Dagger, a small dagger he keeps sheathed on his lower back as a secondary/defensive weapon. Yes, and: Karram was one of the presiding advisers during Antonio's preliminary hearing, where he briefly met Flint as well. He was the one that suggested his innocence after reading his emotions in the courtroom. Although initially ignored, Antonio was proven innocent anyway after the murders continued. Flash forward several decades later, Karram, under his human guise of Karl Silverman, was asked by the IRS to audit the Horizon Foundation before their annual licensing renewal. It was apparent from the start that despite his disguise Antonio knew who he was, more than likely by scent. It was a moderately uncomfortable confrontation but nonetheless remained civil. (^Can be amended or changed entirely if you don't think it fits.)</s> <\|message\|>Parael Magnus Of all the people in the van who could berate him for what he'd done, Parry found himself flinching more and more with every word Rikive shouted at him. Like a kicked puppy, his smoldering eyes were cast down to the floor of the vehicle, losing their ambient glow until they returned to Parry's natural baby blue color, and even then were positively dejected. Parry was ready for Tony, Flint, Autumn, everyone to name him a liability and cast him out as a pariah for what he'd done, but losing Rikive's friendship would hurt him the absolute most of all. So when Rikive squeezed Parry in an almost tackle-hug, he breathed in a sigh of relief and his own breath caught in his throat. So he just hugged her back as hard as he could, one hand patting her own shoulder. "I'm sorry," Parry said, squeezing hard. "I'm really, really sorry hon. I found some stuff out but it wasn't worth putting you all in danger." Parry released Rikive just long enough to turn toward Flint, his eyes brightening once again as he saw the perpetually well-dressed-for-a-bygone-era detective wizard. "Hey Flint!" CRUNCH! ------------------------------------- Billy Rikker's feeding frenzy was interrupted by the loudest, shrillest, most ear splitting noise he had ever heard in his century of living. It reminded him of the shrieking a spoiled toddler would make when denied the flashiest, prettiest, most expensive toy in the toy store and goddammit, she was gonna get that toy if it meant she would have to make a scene that would shame her parents for all eternity. So while the noise successfully broke the trance the close circle of vampires had been in while lapping the blood from the carpet, their super senses were picking up the sound as nails-on-a-chalkboard centimeters from where they stood. Suddenly his whole surviving clan was on the floor, clawing at their ears to get the noise to stop while up and down the street, car alarms for Mercedes, Lincolns, Bugattis and other half-million dollar vehicles activated their anti-theft mechanisms. ------------------------------------- Parry was knocked flat on his ass by Flint's punch, his nose once again collapsed. But he could absolutely feel that it was not where it was supposed to be, and Rikive, even if she were so inclined, wouldn't be able to heal him for a while after pulling both Parry and Flint back from the brink in such a short period of time. Parry had seen toddlers melt down from having scraped knees and other boo-boos. So he was emulating the best as he cried like a baby over his precious nose, the tires of the van squeeling away as they shot off to find Gray and Beth, Parry the Angel, slayer of Demons, protector of the innocent, semi-immortal warrior and self-professed hedonist kicked and screamed, holding his face, and only barely resisted the urge to say 'MOMMY! HE HIT ME!'</s> <\|message\|>Kaori Lyle "We're not in an asking mood..." She was enraged, and yet she almost had to laugh. Don't I feel like a lady. She was completely engaged with the hunter. "Do you honestly believe I would willingly help you against Nemsemet?" She gave an unbelieving shake of her head. Even as she glared at him, her wine-colored eyes carried warm undertones. As if it were the only part of her being that might still be human. Her icy tone was a stark contrast. Each word felt like a bite at the air, "You're incredibly foolish, human. You assault my people, and then you invite me to my own death." She paused, her head tilting as her eyes dipped low for a brief moment, judging his profile. "You don't even know what you're asking," she dismissively stated. And you didn't even say 'please.' Vaguely, she was aware of the presence behind her. She wasn't quite sure the nature of being he was, but she had surprise on her side. This hunter - human - would never be able to match her speed quickly enough to defend himself in a significant way. It was unlikely that she was going to get out of here unscathed, but she might as well enjoy the fight. After all, she was a creature of violence, and she didn't like his attitude. Seconds after the last word left her lips, she kicked off of the rooftop. She sprung from her place so quickly, it was almost a blur. Her body collided with the hunter. All of the concentrated - and complicated - fury she felt towards him exploded from her as she tackled him to the ground with a animalistic snarl. Her attack wasn't coordinated or thought through like her actions of evasion had been. This was purely instinctual. Now that she was close, so close she feel his pulse through his flesh, his scent was intoxicating. It made her lightheaded, but it didn't matter, because she didn't plan to resist the urge to part her lips and bury her teeth into the flesh around his shoulder. With a final draw of his aroma, she did just that, piercing the skin in search of crimson heat.</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover The vampiress had lunged with such speed and ferocity that it was too fast for him to react. She grabbed hold of him and the two tumbled across the roof until she had him pinned. He had lost hold of the bag as they rolled, some of the contents spilling onto the roof. Visible was a long metal spike, a metal bat still half-concealed by the bag, and an aerosol can. A set of fangs pricked his shoulder. It would have been more painful if he weren't already full of adrenaline. Gray moved his left hand quickly to draw the syringe from its place in his front pocket while drawing a Glock with his right, the same arm she was now drinking his lifeblood from. She in her fury smacked the syringe from his hand, pinned his arm and continued to draw from him. It clattered to the side. With his handgun he started to unload the magazine into her abdomen while using the painful opportunity to shove her off of him. Her teeth tore a chunk from his shoulder. She definitely looked more the monster now. He rolled to side to the closest equipment - the bag. What he grabbed was the metal spike. Sure, special wood could kill a vampire. He didn't want to kill her though. He wanted to paralyze her and if the syringe wouldn't work then filling her heart with some cold metal would. If this didn't work he may have to behead her and abandon the information before she leeched more of his life away.</s>	<\|message\|>Karram Sylian Karram was surprised to see the vampire lunge for Gray, and even more so that the attempt succeeded in bringing him down. The syringe toppled from his hand along with the bag, but he was all too quick to act. Karram heard several shots fire from within the scuffle before he even had the chance to move. Then, as Karram ran closer grabbing up his dagger, he noticed Gray push her off and grab a metal spike from the bag. Karram rushed over, throwing his dagger accurately into her left thigh before rolling to swiftly pick up the syringe. Sheathing his blade, Karram switched his approach and simply attempted to kick their vampire friend square in the face, with the intention of allowing Gray the opportunity to strike in which Karram could deliver the decisive blow: the concoction contained in the syringe, whatever it may be. Seamless timing would be required, for the vampire's reflexes were definitely faster than theirs. And as usual with this group, the pair didn't really have a well-thought-out plan; but rather a stream of quick glances to signal the conjoined attack. Kick. Metal spike. Syringe. Sleep magic. Detain. And so, Karram and Gray executed their respective moves and hoped for the best. Karram used one hand to deliver the syringe to her arm and the other to gently touch her forehead while mouthing his faerie incantation of sleep. Then he quickly backed off and watched in anticipation for things to kick in, all the while placing a hand on the hilt of Oakbane. If the strange concoction wasn't enough to bring her down for the trip back to the bunker, then Karram's magical touch should act as the final component in finally knocking her out. His magic was not as powerful as some of his more experienced relatives, but it still packed a punch. This has got to work, he thought.</s>
<\|description\|>Karram Sylian Age: 56 Gender: Male Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Seelie Sidhe (Faerie) Physical Description: Talents:-Flight: The ability to fly with proficient maneuverability for a long duration of time. -Nature Magic: The ability to manipulate nature in various ways such as entangling creatures with branches or roots, concealing himself within the earth, or harnessing energy from plant life to strengthen his blade. -Illusory Manipulation: Can use Illusion Magic to disguise himself or create minor sensory illusions against others. -Sleep Inducing Magic: The ability to induce a narcoleptic state of sleep in targeted creatures. (Related: Karram also has the innate ability to create illusions or send messages to sentient beings in their dreams.) -Empathy: The ability to perceive people's emotions and motives. -Sword-fighting: He is a trained swordfighter. History:The Sylian branch family is renowned in the faerie community of Ireland. For centuries they have served as judges in the Seelie Court, with the primary responsibility of doling out punishment for faeries who have committed crimes against the mortals or faerie brethren. Karram Sylian's family was different however. He was the unfortunate product of an unlawful relationship between a Seelie faerie and an Unseelie faerie. His father was pronounced a traitor to the community and both he and his forbidden lover were executed. Karram Sylian was to be banished from the Seelie Court and sent to the Ashen Pit where Unseelie miscreants lived. However his father's brother, Eromyr, was able to convince the council to spare the infant faerie and grant him 20 years of life to prove his usefulness to the community. The council gave in and allowed Eromyr to adopt Karram and teach him as his own. For the next 15 years Karram grew up learning the ways of the Seelie Court, faerie magic, and other resourceful trades. He never learned about his past or birth parents until his 16th birthday. Eromyr sat him down and explained the scenario that lead to his birth. Astonished and heartbroken, Karram spent the next few weeks lazing in a deep depression. But eventually he came to his senses and decided his life's work would be to amend his family's honor and eventually become Seelie Grandmaster. On his 20th birthday Karram was brought before the council of elders and rigorously tested. His incredibly honed skills and vast faerie knowledge surprised the council, and so they let him live. Five years later Karram was appointed as a Seelie Adviser, the same position his uncle Eromyr held. He and Eromyr were sent with several others to the United States to set up a new branch of the Seelie Court within the supernatural communities that exist there. Karram was especially excited to travel to a new place where he could make a name for himself without the past haunting his every move. For the last 31 years, Karram has served as an adviser in the courts. He is known for his ability to detect the emotions and motives of defendants as well as his overall intelligence and loyalty; even receiving a few nods from Count Caradoc in the past. In the human world, Karram originally disguised himself as a young and ambitious David Rodgers. He took up a job as an attorney and excelled in the position for just over 20 years. However he was commanded by the courts to change both his disguise and persona due to skepticism in his office over his apparent lack of aging. So he adopted the name Karl Silverman and has since been working for the IRS at the request of the courts (presumably so he could look into some of the supernaturals who mingle with with the humans). But now everything has changed. The resurrection of Nemsemet and the slaughter of the Count and his high council has caused chaos in the supernatural world, and the last thing Karram wants is for that chaos to spill into the mortal world. Because if it does, it could bring the whole world to its knees... Psychological Profile:Karram is unlike most faeries in many ways. Determined and courageous, Karram is always looking to prove himself useful to his community; and to himself. He hides his insecurities and depression by focusing entirely on work, and so he could easily be seen as a workaholic. He finds the usual rambunctious and mischievous nature of his fellow faeries to be immature; whereas he tends to focus on more serious matters. However he does share a deep distrust for Unseelie Sidhe due to his interactions with them in the courts as well as the indoctrination he experienced living with the Seelie Sidhe community in Ireland. Outside of combat or work, Karram is relatively quiet and often becomes entranced in his own thoughts. He also has trouble turning off his professionalism considering he doesn't harbor many actual friendships. Possessions:-Oakbane, a custom blade enchanted with earthen magic. -Sylian Pendant, a necklace worn by members of the Sylian Branch Family. -Faerie Dagger, a small dagger he keeps sheathed on his lower back as a secondary/defensive weapon. Yes, and: Karram was one of the presiding advisers during Antonio's preliminary hearing, where he briefly met Flint as well. He was the one that suggested his innocence after reading his emotions in the courtroom. Although initially ignored, Antonio was proven innocent anyway after the murders continued. Flash forward several decades later, Karram, under his human guise of Karl Silverman, was asked by the IRS to audit the Horizon Foundation before their annual licensing renewal. It was apparent from the start that despite his disguise Antonio knew who he was, more than likely by scent. It was a moderately uncomfortable confrontation but nonetheless remained civil. (^Can be amended or changed entirely if you don't think it fits.)</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover Gray had taken the opportunity to dress his wound properly. Despite tired eyes and a sore shoulder he was ready to carry on some business. A nap would have to wait because it was time to strike while the vampire was weak. He listened for a moment to the others in the main hall and threw in a comment as he lifted up their 'guest'. "Just make sure it's someone you guys can trust. I think we're all agreed that an event like that shouldn't happen again." His doubts were very high that they wouldn't care to have their new people be in charge of anything. He hefted up the vampire. She was still in dead-weight mode with an improvised stake in her heart. Gray picked a room with a heavy lockable door and lay her against the wall. "Hey Autumn, I need to borrow you for a second." He requested into the hall. He set up a few chairs in the room and took a seat opposite of the prone figure. Drawing a deep breath he slipped his mask on. "She should start regaining her senses as soon as the stake is removed. She's still drugged so I should be fine but I want you to lock me in here with her. What do you think?"</s> <\|message\|>Arachne (Assumed name: Autumn Weltich) Since everyone got back they were all pretty on edge. Perry got an ear full but somehow it didn't seem enough. Arachne was not always a forgiving creature and something as botched as their last venture would spell major punishment at her company. But this wasn't her company so she held off and left it to the others. Maybe later. It was brought up that there was no kind of command at all and that they were just going about things all wrong. No kidding, she could tell that at the beginning. She had been lightly directing things before it all went South. However she doubted any of them trusted her enough to even bother bringing it up. Turning to Gray she looked at the room. "Probably best if one other person joins you, just in case." She moves her attention to to the group again. Oddly enough the only other person she'd seen that has a head on straight was the one that pointed out the problem. Nodding to herself she spoke up. "What about you? When things were falling apart you took it upon yourself to get everyone out. You didn't panic or lose it in a fight. So I think you would be a good candidate."</s> <\|message\|>Antonio Victor Barnes Tony shook his head, "No way on me. As soon as it gets intense, there's not much more than instinct to work off of. I can talk about things and plan things here, in a controlled and safe environment, but I am not someone you can look to for good judgment in the middle of a fight. That's not how it works." Sure, Tony had a background, but it was a day to day thing, an office and dealing with people within the confines of civilization. In a fight, when the blood was up, lycanthropes were as fast, strong and resilient as anything, just about, but their instincts took over, their primal nature brought to the fore, muting the intelligence of the human. It was a form in flux and enraged, and not even able to properly speak more than a couple words -- and he'd never bothered to try. But he knew his own limitations; he'd learned them a while ago in deciding how to stay fundamentally out of the society of the Courts and the parallel city of the supernatural and preferred to stay in the mortal world, doing mortal work and forking over a tithe to de Lacy so he could be left alone and in peace. Nemsemet put an end to it and dragged him into this world against his will, forcing him to face things he didn't want to face. He didn't like shaving in the mirror and thinking of the thing inside him that cut loose in some swampy jungle, killing, perhaps eating, people indiscriminately, operating off pure instinct. He already wasn't liking the idea that he might harm someone he knew or didn't want to harm in this situation, and it's why he advocated not going anywhere near the Steak Knife, but picking off a lone vampire instead.</s> <\|message\|>Flint White Flint sat on a fold out chair, he had changed a few moments before into a white shirt and pants, as the others had been resting. He listened to the conversation but preferred to stay out of it, cradling a bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He took turns with each, breathing in the smoke then taking a swig of whiskey. He eventually spoke up "I don't care who is the leader, as long as I don't have to call them sir and do a pirouette every time they ask, like those bastards in command in 1917. Im telling ya, give a man a badge and he thinks he owns the place, why I ought to hae given him a thing or two. Course I couldn't or I would have been reprimanded and at that point I didn't even know I could shoot fireballs or whatever. Anyway in that trench my buddies used to…" Flint began to ramble on about some story of taking a German trench, a few racial slurs where mixed in here and there and most people would find it best to ignore him. A hundred years of information does a lot on the human brain.</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir Tony was Rikive's first choice as well, but he pointed out why he wouldn't make a great leader in the thick of a fight. Unfortunately she had to agree, berserkers were great for breaking enemy lines but for leadership roles? Not so much. Beth mentioned Flint and she supposed he would make-and he was drunkenly rambling about some war in 1917. Right, he was out as well. Rikive was mulling over the other's and what she knew of them, when she realized Autumn was talking to her. "What, me?" She asked, blinking in surprise that someone was considering her for the position. Because she had kept calm in the throws of a battle? Many of the other's had kept level heads as well. She suppose, she did come from a culture the prizes fighting above all else. She did use to spend some time in her grandfather's hall, filled with all the great fallen warriors. But...Did that qualify her to actually lead anyone? She frowned in thought, comparing herself to other viable candidates. "I...suppose?" She responded with a small shrug, not sure what to say. She had never been put in this position before. "The final say falls to the group though." She said, making a small motion with her hand to everyone else in the room. "If they agree then, I will step forward to lead."</s>	<\|message\|>Karram Sylian Karram had enjoyed the ride to the bunker. It was the first peaceful experience he'd had since joining this band of supernaturals. But it ended prematurely once they arrived. He and Gray dragged their vampire prisoner inside and Beth tied her to a chair. Then she was stored away for safe keeping, with Gray hungrily wanting to stand guard. However, as Karram returned to the main room, he noted the uncomfortable tension in the air and heard talk of needed leadership. And of course he agreed, but the question was more so who it should be to lead them. Mention of the fairy court made Karram's elongated ears perk up. And before he could speak on the matter, the fairy queen was dismissed as distrustful... this made Karram grit his teeth a bit, but he quelled his desire to shout down her throat. Despite his personal history and the misconception towards faerie loyalty, Karram and his people were a very tightly knit group and this went doubly for the Faerie Queen. A couple subtle breaths and Karram was able to return to a state of diplomacy. It was at this time that several name were thrown into the pot, so to speak. Karram pondered the options carefully. Tony was the initial person to gather them all up, and he was a born leader. But like he said, he had moments in which his mental state could be easily compromised. And Flint... well, Flint was an intelligent sorcerer but his general laze and attitude would make for an unfit leader overall. And his near-drunken monologue just proved the point further. But then Rikive was nominated by Autumn. Karram's brow lifted slightly at the thought; she had just dissed his Queen, but her battle prowess, experience and courage were definitely qualities that fit the bill. "I vote Rikive. She has a good balance of qualities that make her as perfect a candidate as we're going to get in this team. And obviously she doesn't have to go it alone; she can make the decisions and organize and command our 'ranks', but delegate duties she cannot fulfill to those in the group who better fit the scenario. And for the record," he darted a stern look at Rikive, "My Queen is not untrustworthy." Karram felt better getting that last part off his chest. It may have been an awkward summation to make after his more than diplomatic speech on behalf of the very person that mentioned his queen, but he shrugged off the thought and turned to check on the vampire once more. His demeanor had once again changed back to carefree. He waved back at the group as he headed for the vamp, "But obviously I'm not the only vote that counts."</s>
<\|description\|>Claudia Laurel Age: 23 (Physically) 62 (In reality) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Half-Demon Physical Description: Talents: -Using Firearms -Hand to hand combat -Stalking/Sneaking -Controlling fire -Parkour -Faster Healing History: Claudia was born in 1953, into a prominent family of demons due to an affair between a demon woman and a human. Her family had wealth, power, and most important of all, reputation. Her birth was not wanted by the elders, seeing as her parents were both young, and the fact that Claudia was a half-demon, which were considered disgraces and looked down upon. Claudia's grandfather, Harriet Laurel, decided that Claudia and her father were to be executed. Claudia's mother didn't want this, and helped her daughter disappear, along with Claudia's father. They began a new life (on earth) in America as James Williams and his young daughter, Claudia Williams. Two years later, Her father was drafted into the Vietnam war at the age of twenty. Claudia was sent to live with her aunt in Virginia, and spent the next twenty years staying there, waiting for her father to return. He never did. Her family was informed of his death, and Claudia received his possessions. In a trunk was a stack of letters, mostly love letters between her mother and father. After digging through the trunk and reading the old letters, she came upon addressed to her, from her parents. The letter told her all about her heritage and why she didn't have a mother with her.Claudia had hoped to get in touch with them, but was not able to enter their world and when summoned, they rejected her because she was a 'Halfling'. Left with no where to go, she wandered until one she walked in on two people fighting. One pulled out a gun to shoot the other, and Claudia threw the nearest thing she could find at the man, which happened to her shoe. The man ran off not wanting to be seen, and the other, Tom, introduced himself. The two became quick friends, both having no where to go. They lived off the streets, and eventually joined a gang. The two became tangled in a web of crimes and violence, and Tom decide that they needed to learn to defend themselves. They became more active in the gang learning from the other members how to fight, and later how to kill. Claudia and Tom advanced from just people taken under their wing to some of the most able members. Eventually the gang was busted, and Claudia escaped with Tom. They moved to New Camden, and decided to try to lay low. It didn't work out, as they were in desperate need of money, and Claudia ended up taking jobs which weren't quite legal. She eventually got arrested for vehicular manslaughter, of all things. She was sentenced to five years in prison. When she was let out on probation, she discovered that Tom had passed away. With nothing left, Claudia became a servant for a supernatural household in the court. When Nemsemet took over, her master was killed, along with his family. Claudia was given two choices. Join his side or die. She did what she thought every sane person would have done, and chose not to die. She needed the money anyway. She now works as a servant/hitman for Nemsemet, and though she may not like it, money always comes first. And her dog. Psychological Profile: Due to her history, Claudia is very pessimistic. She doesn't believe in the whole 'heart of gold' thing, and distrusts everyone around her. She doesn't like to show emotion, believing they are weaknesses. She believes that the court and the wealthy families in New Camden are all corrupt, but also thinks that Nemsemet is the same. Claudia has two 'modes', in place of emotions. There's stoic and uncaring, and then theres angry. When taking out targets, she remains cold and collected, but her anger can be triggered easily; she is sensitive about her family, and will physically harm anyone who insults her parents. She is also angered by the social hierarchy of fullbloods and halfbloods. Although she is willing to kill in cold blood, she is not merciless. She prefers to take people out quickly and painlessly, and if you give her good reason not to do something, she'll listen to you. Although it's hard to get her to trust you, if she believes in your cause then she will remain loyal. Possessions: A silver ring, which hides her identity as a supernatural creature, given to her by her mother. Two handguns, Several knives, and a sniper rifle. Has extras at her 'home', which is actually an abandoned building. A large husky she adopted off the streets. The closest thing she's ever had to a familiar. Yes, and: Claudia met Karram when she was sent to court for vehicular manslaughter. He was one of the people who helped get her a shortened sentence. She has mixed feelings about him. On one hand, he shortened her punishment, on the other hand, he still sent her to prison. Now though, they're going to meet under much different circumstances. Karram is one of the people she has been requested to kill, so thats awkward. (I didn't really know what to do here ^, so it can be changed.)</s> <\|message\|>Parael Magnus This was the worst mess Parry had ever seen since retiring to the human plane. And he'd seen 32 semi-potty trained toddlers on Mountain Dew not four years ago. His house was taking artillery fire from Russian missiles, a platoon of Nemsemet's goons were unloading assault rifle rounds into the walls and windows, and here he lay on the front lawn behind a dirt barricade while the motley band of supernatural misfits alternately ran for their lives or tried to fight back. It wasn't all bad though. Between Flint's hand cannon, the Demon's pistols, and (judging by the screams out back) Tony's lycan abilities, they might just have a shot at getting out of this whole thing- Which was when he heard the whine of the rocket, in seemingly slow motion, plunging into his apartment's bedroom window up above and exploding in a massive fireball. Bits of metal paneling, bricks and glass showered down onto everyone outside the building (including Parry) who continued to stare up at the gaping, burning hole in the building. "My clothes..." Parry whimpered, a tear forming in his eye. "All my clothes... and my scented candles... and my iPhone collection..." Now Parry may once have been a Celestial, a being of goodness, order, and devotion whose very existence was meant to keep the universe in line, protecting the innocent and doing no wrong. He served at the pleasure of the divine spark, being a total Tool for the forces of Light. But that hadn't lasted through the silk boom of the 1400s. Parry was now the most self-absorbed, materialistic and hedonistic motherfucker in the whole goddamn city of Camden. He ate fashion magazines, dreamed of walking the runway, and bagged every "stud muffin" he could convince to come back to his place on a Saturday night. So when he rolled onto his knees behind Flint's crumbling earthen barricade, eyes twitching in absolute rage and starlight forming in his hands, he was nothing short of a fucking mess. "This is for GUCCI!" He screamed, hurling a bolt at one of the gunmen across the street. The ball of gold light struck the vampire thrall square in the chest, forcing him to drop the AK in his arms as his clothes were consumed by fire. "AND YOU, BITCH!" He screamed, backing up to the front door to the daycare. "THIS IS FOR ARMANI!" The thrall woman, hefting a rocket launcher over one arm, caught a blast straight to the face as she turned to see the source of the shrill yell. Her eyeballs melting and shirt on fire, she dropped to the ground, rolling in the concrete to put out the flames. "MOTHERFUCKING CHANEL!" Which was right when someone, Parry wasn't sure who, grabbed him by the arm and hauled his ass back inside the building as a rocket landed not ten feet from where he'd been standing. And when he landed on his Prada diaper bag, that mad, fashion induced berzerker fury disappeared from Parry's eyes. "Oh. That's right. I always keep all my iPhones in here." Parry reached one arm deep into the bag and pulled out a gold 5s and a silver 6 Plus. "We're good everyone! I've still got my phone collection! Tony? Tony, where'd you go?"</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir Rikive was rising to her knees with her newly formed shield between her and the gun fire when another explosion rocked the building. She flinched, but kept her shield where it was as she rose up to her feet, looking toward the backdoor where the lawman had gone. Where is Parael? That question answered itself when she heard him yelling at the front of the building. "Oh no." She quickly ran to the door and watched with wide eyes as Parael laid waste to the ranks of their attackers. She had never seen him so angry before and she had certainly never seen him use his powers in such a way. It was frightening at the same time it was awe inspiring. She snapped from her amazement when she heard another horrific shriek fill the air. She lunged forward and grabbed Parael, pulling him back inside and onto the ground. She crouched in front of him with her shield protecting them from the debris of the blast. At his voice returning to normal she turned her head and gave him a flat look. His moods often changed so quickly and starkly, she truly wondered about the ancient beings sanity. "Out back." She informed him, pointing toward the door way. She heard wood begin to crack and she looked up with wide eyes. "MOVE!" She shouted, trying to keep at a crouch as she made to grab Parael's arm so they could quickly flee the building before it fell onto their heads.</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover The patter and boom of conflict sounded through the windows. Gray's attention was slightly distracted as he drove. Several times he shifted his gaze to the source of the sound as they drove to make sure they weren't in immediate danger. They were heading downtown at Autumn's direction. Autumn spoke over the distant gunfire. She sounded like she was trying to butter him up with basic info he knew for some big secret. Gray responded to the question. "Yeah. I know the myths." He glanced briefly at her just enough to see the hesitation in her face. "Arachne was cursed by the gods like Medusa was. Pissed them off really bad. Some perfect gods they were to lose their cool that easy." He trailed off, again looking at some movement on the side of the road. "Is that who we're gunning for? Is Arachne behind this?" He assumed.</s> <\|message\|>Arachne (Assumed name: Autumn Weltich) He knew, that was good. It was always a little odd hearing someone else talk about her as if she was not there. It was forever ago though so there was no way they could have known that she was still around. Shaking her head slightly she couldn't help but smile at Grey's jab at the gods. Indeed they were a fickle bunch. More easily wounded by mere words than just about any other creature in existence. It was then that he asked if Arachne was their target. For a second she almost corrected him harshly but held her tongue. Looking out at the flashes in the distance she took a breath to calmed herself. "No, Arachne is not the cause of this. Nor is she the target. I wanted to know how much you knew in case I needed to explain it to you. But I don't have to." The noise outside continued and she leaned forward so Grey wouldn't have to take his eyes further from the road. "That chaos out there may find us eventually. And when it does I want you to know who I really am, what I really am. Autumn Weltich is just an alias. That woman in the myth is me. I am Arachne." Unsure how this information would be taken she sat back and waited. There were many directions revealing who she was could go. Very few of them seemed good at the moment. It wasn't like they didn't know each other. She had assisted him several times in the past and given him work but that didn't necessarily change the fact that he hunted monsters. Up until this moment she had always maintained the guise of being human and Grey was doing work under human supervision.</s>	<\|message\|>Claudia Laurel Claudia continued shooting, from the wall, steering clear of other bullets. She was outnumbered, even with the help of others. This house would be taken soon, if there was anything left by that time. It hadn't even been a week and she'd be dead because of her job. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Karram's movements, but chose to ignore him, so when the roots curled around her ankle it as a surprise. One moment she was flat against the wall, facing towards the shooters, and the next she was pulled back and caught by someone. Looking up, she realized that someone was Karram. She allowed herself to be guided through the unfamiliar building towards the back. There were bodies in the kitchen, though it was hard to tell what they were due to their condition. So far she had suspicions of a lycanthrope or some other beast because of the carnage, some kind of celestial if the horrid smell invading her mouth and nose were any indication. She hated that smell, as well as most everything about beings from the other side of the supernatural street. Especially angels, all the ones she'd heard of and met were major snobs. There was a large explosion, much closer than before. Too close. She growled, the sound muffled slightly by the once clean mask she was wearing. It had been pure and white, now it was dirtied by dirt and sweat. It seemed like a metaphor for life. Everyone started innocent, but in the end, every single person was guilty in some way. Claudia let out a bitter chuckle as she shook her head. Right, back to the present, as distasteful as it was. She took off her mask, shoving it back into her pocket. Might as well go with these people for now. Not like she'd be allowed back. If she did get out, she'd take the alley took get to the abandoned building she lived, grab her supplies and dog, and go from there. "We need to move. Now." She informed the others in the room and shoving herself away from Karram. There was no point in aiding her, the wound had mostly healed except for the bullet shards still lodged in her calf. She would deal with those later, but she could walk fine now.</s>
<\|description\|>Claudia Laurel Age: 23 (Physically) 62 (In reality) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Half-Demon Physical Description: Talents: -Using Firearms -Hand to hand combat -Stalking/Sneaking -Controlling fire -Parkour -Faster Healing History: Claudia was born in 1953, into a prominent family of demons due to an affair between a demon woman and a human. Her family had wealth, power, and most important of all, reputation. Her birth was not wanted by the elders, seeing as her parents were both young, and the fact that Claudia was a half-demon, which were considered disgraces and looked down upon. Claudia's grandfather, Harriet Laurel, decided that Claudia and her father were to be executed. Claudia's mother didn't want this, and helped her daughter disappear, along with Claudia's father. They began a new life (on earth) in America as James Williams and his young daughter, Claudia Williams. Two years later, Her father was drafted into the Vietnam war at the age of twenty. Claudia was sent to live with her aunt in Virginia, and spent the next twenty years staying there, waiting for her father to return. He never did. Her family was informed of his death, and Claudia received his possessions. In a trunk was a stack of letters, mostly love letters between her mother and father. After digging through the trunk and reading the old letters, she came upon addressed to her, from her parents. The letter told her all about her heritage and why she didn't have a mother with her.Claudia had hoped to get in touch with them, but was not able to enter their world and when summoned, they rejected her because she was a 'Halfling'. Left with no where to go, she wandered until one she walked in on two people fighting. One pulled out a gun to shoot the other, and Claudia threw the nearest thing she could find at the man, which happened to her shoe. The man ran off not wanting to be seen, and the other, Tom, introduced himself. The two became quick friends, both having no where to go. They lived off the streets, and eventually joined a gang. The two became tangled in a web of crimes and violence, and Tom decide that they needed to learn to defend themselves. They became more active in the gang learning from the other members how to fight, and later how to kill. Claudia and Tom advanced from just people taken under their wing to some of the most able members. Eventually the gang was busted, and Claudia escaped with Tom. They moved to New Camden, and decided to try to lay low. It didn't work out, as they were in desperate need of money, and Claudia ended up taking jobs which weren't quite legal. She eventually got arrested for vehicular manslaughter, of all things. She was sentenced to five years in prison. When she was let out on probation, she discovered that Tom had passed away. With nothing left, Claudia became a servant for a supernatural household in the court. When Nemsemet took over, her master was killed, along with his family. Claudia was given two choices. Join his side or die. She did what she thought every sane person would have done, and chose not to die. She needed the money anyway. She now works as a servant/hitman for Nemsemet, and though she may not like it, money always comes first. And her dog. Psychological Profile: Due to her history, Claudia is very pessimistic. She doesn't believe in the whole 'heart of gold' thing, and distrusts everyone around her. She doesn't like to show emotion, believing they are weaknesses. She believes that the court and the wealthy families in New Camden are all corrupt, but also thinks that Nemsemet is the same. Claudia has two 'modes', in place of emotions. There's stoic and uncaring, and then theres angry. When taking out targets, she remains cold and collected, but her anger can be triggered easily; she is sensitive about her family, and will physically harm anyone who insults her parents. She is also angered by the social hierarchy of fullbloods and halfbloods. Although she is willing to kill in cold blood, she is not merciless. She prefers to take people out quickly and painlessly, and if you give her good reason not to do something, she'll listen to you. Although it's hard to get her to trust you, if she believes in your cause then she will remain loyal. Possessions: A silver ring, which hides her identity as a supernatural creature, given to her by her mother. Two handguns, Several knives, and a sniper rifle. Has extras at her 'home', which is actually an abandoned building. A large husky she adopted off the streets. The closest thing she's ever had to a familiar. Yes, and: Claudia met Karram when she was sent to court for vehicular manslaughter. He was one of the people who helped get her a shortened sentence. She has mixed feelings about him. On one hand, he shortened her punishment, on the other hand, he still sent her to prison. Now though, they're going to meet under much different circumstances. Karram is one of the people she has been requested to kill, so thats awkward. (I didn't really know what to do here ^, so it can be changed.)</s> <\|message\|>Parael Magnus "... And anyway Karram, so Augusts said to me, 'Think of the children Parry! Think of all the poor little supernatural children you see every day, and how they'll be left to the whims of an Egyptian High Priest who fancies himself a god just because he could walk in and kill my uncle.' So hearing that, I couldn't help but say 'You know what Augustus? I have just the thing for you.' So I went upstairs and brought down this old thing I picked up in Alexandria a while back. Not much, but it was a legit Egyptian Charm to the goddess Isis, and I handed it over and said 'This should keep you safe against old Egyptian magic.' And Augustus said 'Thank you Parry! Thank you! You're so generous and so much better dressed than I am. Why, I look like I just came out of a frat party compared to you. And you've got a baby on your hip.' So I said-" Which was the precise time Flint slammed on the other pedal, putting the car in a rapid stop, while Parry's face landed right into the driver's seat with a quiet and not very good sounding CRUNCH. Parry had to reach into his pocket for an old hankie to press against his nose with one hand while the other took a swipe at the back of Flint's head. "DON'T BRAKE SO FAST," he yelled, his voice distorted as he tried to stop the bleeding from his broken nose. He was vaguely aware of getting out of the back seat of the car and walking behind Flint and Beth, but too absorbed in his own thoughts to really care what was going on or where they were going. Without skipping a beat, he turned back to Karram the Fae. "So anyway, I said to Augustus 'Just be a doll and don't tell anyone you were here. Tony would kill me if he found out you knew we were all put up in my place. And Augustus said 'Cross my heart Parry you stud muffin.' So- oh. Oh, we're here!" 'Here' turned out to be yet another relic from a bygone era. A nuclear fallout bunker at the end of a tunnel beneath a parking garage? Parry didn't really know why all his friends were stuck in the past like they seemed to be. Rikive in the Middle Ages, Tony was perpetually reliving 'Nam, and Flint just couldn't get out of the '30s. The present was so much more fun. Couldn't Tony have set up in a Penthouse Suite instead? Parry hissed as he felt his long hair brush against a spiderweb, sending him running through the bunker's front door whimpering like a child stung by a bee. "You get this place fumigated regularly, right Tony?" He asked, pulling the bloody cloth from his face. "I mean, no bugs or anything? I had the center cleaned out once a month as a rule. If it has more than six legs it isn't fit to walk this plane." Parry stumbled into the bathroom, still chattering away as he tried to find a light switch to check his face. "I'm covered on clothes for the next day. Just point me to the nearest dry-cleaner if you can. We need to figure out a plan to go on the offensive, find some information about what Nemsemet wants with-" The sight of his nose, crooked and weeping blood, brought the shrillest, blood-curdling scream from the bathroom Parry had ever heard himself make. The mirror was broken in a spiderweb pattern, the medical supplies in the cabinet behind it spilled out onto the floor, and the Celestial threw himself out into the kitchen and grabbed Tony by the shoulders shaking him furiously. "FUCK IT! I need a plastic surgeon to fix my nose. NOW!"</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir Rikive walked around the bunker to study it and burn off the energy humming in her veins. Driving the old car had been fun and exhilerating; even with Tony in the passenger seat and shouting at her. She thought she had done well, they arrived to the location in one piece didn't they? It was a mission success in her mind. She turned her attention back to the group at the mention of clothes and looked down at her leather jacket. There was a small hole in the front where she'd been hit by that bullet and an even bigger one on the back. The dark brown leather was now stained with blood and she didn't know if it could be repaired. Too bad, she really liked the jacket. Dismissing the thought she leaned back against a wall, frowning as she began to go over the events of the attack. When she had been informed the enemy was from ancient times, some part of her had assumed he wouldn't use modern weapons. Especially since they caused such a scene to develop; either the ancient mummy hadn't known or far more likely didn't care. With that damned curse on the city preventing people that were informed from leaving or communicating with the outside world; Nemsemet could do whatever he pleased. So it stood to reason, he didn't give a rats ass about subtlety. Rikive shut her eyes and thumped her head against the wall. She was thrilled to discover her swords ability to form a shield, it had even proved effective against bullets. Clearly though, the way she had been taught to fight would not be enough if they were to go up against those weapons again. Maybe her sword could prove useful, but the old weapon wasn't giving up its secrets easily. Perhaps it was punishment for it being taken from Jötunheimr all those centuries ago. She remained quiet for a few moments, lost in thought and listening to the other's converse. So distracted by her thoughts she nearly jumped out of her skin when Parael started screaming. Fear another attack she pulled her sword from it's sheath as the scabbard transformed into a shield on her arm. It took her a moment to realize they were not under attack and huffed, willing her sheath to return to normal and sliding her sword back into it's home. She walked over to the counter and tried to dislodge Parael's hands from Tony's shoulders. "Parael I can fix your nose!" She shouted over his yelling and crying. "Calm down, I can heal it if you will release Tony." Speaking of she turned to Tony and asked, "Does this place have guns? I wish to learn to use one."</s> <\|message\|>Antonio Victor Barnes "AK's are right here," he gestured to the bag he'd stashed them in when they were coming down -- because he didn't need Bobby to see that shit and freak out, "But we'll handle that after..." he shrugged as if to point out that Parael's nose was probably a bigger concern than explaining firearms, particularly safe handling, to Sturm Und Drang. Well, the Kalashnikov was ideal in one sense. It was designed to be taught quickly to Siberian peasants. He tried to disengage Parael's hands off him so he could go over to one of the footlockers in the place -- he seemed to have more storage here than things stored, and grabbed an outfit that was essentially a copy of the first. Tony knew how to wear a suit and tie and look stylish when he was doing it, but this place wasn't set up to support his not for profit operations, it was set up with the idea of survival in mind. So he had a lot of the sort of gym clothes that lycans wore when expecting trouble, including shoes, because changing would fuck up a pair of nice dress shoes in a heartbeat. In any case, he pulled on the clothing and laid the AK's and the ammo on the table -- not much, but hey, it was there if they needed it. He waited for the healing of Parael's nose to commence before he put in his two cents. "Taking the offensive? Shit, man, I don't know. Those goons we encountered were thralls, I could smell the v-blood on them. Nemsemet might be old fashioned, but he's got at least one of the vampire elders on his side, which maybe explains why he wiped out Caradoc's court left and right -- promotion opportunities. That's the only way I can figure on so many thralls showing up well armed and with a plan like that." He drummed his fingers on the table as he took a chair, once the AK's were laid out -- they weren't exactly dirty enough to bother cleaning, yet. "Guess it depends on what you want to hit. Until we know how to kill Nemsemet, we're as bad off on odds as Augustus was. Of course, that boy was kinda dumb and entitled, but you know what I mean."</s>	<\|message\|>Claudia Laurel Claudia turned to Tony, raising an eyebrow at the nickname. She turned her attention back to the room ahead, gun raised and ready to shoot. No more goons came, which either meant that they were all dead, or they were closing in and waiting for an opportunity to attack. Most likely the latter. After a few minutes there was a string of unintelligible words from the Blonde, Parry. After that Tony left the building, and she followed, still facing the building with her gun at the ready. She listened as he gave someone directions, before turning on her heel and following him to an old-fashioned car. She guessed it was stolen by the state of its window, and the fact that the barbaric woman was at the wheel. Claudia slipped into the backseat and kept an eye outside as the man took them through the route to wherever they were going. --- They arrived not long after, heading to a garage of sorts. Tony spoke with a security guard before ordering the group to follow him. They progressed through a series of tunnels, in the dark. Not that she minded, she had frequented a few sewers as way of safe passage back in the day. She just hoped that others wouldn't do something such as scream about the filth and insects, especially that odd Parry person. They finally made it to the entrance to the bunker, and Claudia listened half-heartedly as Simba the were-lion briefed them on the state of supplies. The bunker was fine, at least in better condition than her home. Home, she had left most of her weapons as well as her dog there. She would have to go back eventually, before her place got torched like Parry's. She was brought back from her thoughts once again as the aforementioned man came running back into the living space and practically tackled Tony. Claudia slowly walked over to join the group as Rikive and Tony pried the bawling mans hands off of the lycanthropes shoulders. Eventually they succeeded and weapons were layer on the table. The conversation turned to Nemsemet, and Claudia crossed her arms over her chest as a thought occurred to her. Should she tell these people who she was and who she worked for, or used to work for, or keep it to herself. The former option lead to more danger, but maybe if she contributed it would further their efforts to get rid of Nemsemet.</s>
<\|description\|>Gray Conover Age: 31 Gender: Male Species: Human Physical Description: Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat. Talents: Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying. Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task. Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular. History: Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late. Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world. On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold. Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him. When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something. Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck. Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward. Possessions: Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge. Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down). Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool. A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife. Yes, and: Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do.</s> <\|message\|>Arachne (Assumed name: Autumn Weltich) With the door open Autumn entered. Having eyes everywhere she didn't bother much with looking around. But of course Grey did not know that. A great amount of effort went into hiding that Autumn Weltich and Arachne, Queen of Spiders were one in the same. Those in on it consisted mostly of court members that she had a hold of. If others knew then they would kill every one of her children that dared show itself. However here circumstances were quite a bit different. Both of them were not getting out of this and she needed someone she could trust. But to prevent any trouble from arising later she most likely was going to need to reveal her secret to the human before her. There were not many humans that could claim to have seen Arachne as she truly was and live to tell about it. Crossing her arms whilst listening she processed the information. Grey always did quick work and this was no exception. Autumn could trust his word over the sketchy information floating about. Part of what he said she knew already, but having confirmation was good. She nodded in reference to their previous encounter. That had been some years ago and she pulled him out of the fire then. A rare smile flashed itself across her face. Humans were always nostalgic about things. Hard to blame them with such a short life span. Casually looking around the room she waited till he finished to speak up. "Excellent work. I have noticed several of the same particulars you have. Some of our employees that are more in the know have not returned. They are trapped in here like the rest of us. I'd rather not get them involved though so I haven't contacted them. Probably best it stays that way." He spoke low which meant there wasn't much in the way od privacy here. This would not make a good place to stay for very long. They almost would be better off in a much higher end suite than down here among the rabble. But that might not be a great place to start a brood. "We are going to need a better place to stay. You're really the only one I trust enough not to kill me in my sleep. But there is something that I must show you that you may not be pleased about. But not here." Something drew her attention and she looked off to the side a bit. No one was there, but she seemed to be listening intently. "If we are going to move then now might be a good opportunity. Pack your things and make yourself presentable."</s> <\|message\|>Beth Callahan. Another concussive blast barrelled into the wall Beth hid behind. The shockwave sent even her into the street, her concentration hampered by the endless tirade of bullets and noise. Her body flickered in and out of tangibility as she rolled across the road. Bullets coursed right through her, each one starting a ripple of burns through her form. Albeit the only physical pain she was ever likely to feel again, the combination pissed her off. Enough, apparently, to set some things in motion. One of those things happened to be the nearest dumpster. Beth tossed the oversized trash can towards the origin of the bullets and used the momentary lapse in their barrage to pin her sights on the daycare center. Her spiritual spidey sense couldn't get a lock on anything, but she saw the rest of their merry band taking up arms. As soon as Flint erected a solid dirt shield, Beth darted behind it. She heard someone shouting and it took her a second to give the voice a name—Parry's telltale tone clued her in. She perked up at the sound of her name. "Making a mess is what I'm good for," she called back to him and took off. Beth took a shortcut through—literally, through—the buildings on the right side of the street and came around to the back of the shooters. She didn't bother to count them. What was the point? Numbers had no effect on the already-dead. She threw herself into the body of the closest assailant. Whoever this was, they were not wholly human. Mortal, perhaps, except it felt like they'd been tampered with. They fought the possession with a strength unfamiliar to most mortals, and dropped their semi-automatic in the process, but Beth's fifteen years of experience won out. The internal struggle only fuelled her abilities. She snatched up the gun and returned fire.</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir Rikive pulled her hand away from her injury when the pain started to fade, looking toward Parael when he shouted his plan. It was good, but what if they pursued them rather than go into the building? Flint's dirt barrier's didn't look like they held up to bullets well, much less the fiery death the enemy could rain down upon them. At her hip, Rikive felt Winterthorn begin to shake in its sheath. Blinking she shifted to look at the sword, being sure to keep her head down. The old weapon had never done anything such as this before. Untying it from her belt she pulled the sword around in front of her. She slid the blade from it's black and silver sheath, the soft ringing sound of sliding metal filling her ears over the loud gunfire. She looked at the sword, waiting for it to do something when she felt the sheath move. Her eyes snapped to it and widened, watching the scabbard turn to mist over her arm. It felt as though leather straps wrapped around her arm before the cloud of mist solidified into a black and silver round shield. For a moment she stared at the shield before shaking her head to be rid of the shock. She rolled over onto her back and lifted her shield covered arm into the air, shutting her eyes tight to brace for possible pain. She felt the impact of the bullet's into her shield but her arm remained steady. Opening her eyes she saw the bullets embedded into the surface of the shield but they hadn't broken to the other side. "Ha!" She laughed, her mouth spreading into a wide grin. "You beauty!"</s>	<\|message\|>Gray Conover Moving made sense. If this rebellious faction were paranoid enough to attack these two strangers the thin walls of this little motel room would be like paper to a beast's claws. "Thanks." He said in response to the compliment. Gray threw on his black jacket to conceal the shoulder holsters beneath and tossed the remaining loose articles into his suitcase. She was right to keep other people out of this, no need for additional corpses. Gray laughed a little as she mentioned that she trusted him enough to not kill her in her sleep. "Don't make me blush." His mood became a little heavier at the mention of something he may not like. It was mysterious. Not that he didn't know she may very well have enough information to topple a small nation. More disturbing was the fact that she wanted to share some of that with him when it wasn't her norm . Tension's rising. "I don't know if you drove in or not but I'm taking the suburban. It's got the rest of my stuff." Gray hefted the suitcase up and started on down the hall. When the suburban had quit on him as he attempted to leave it started up again when he wanted to go back into town like nothing had happened to it to begin with. Damn magic. At the exit he stopped. The all too familiar noises of explosive combat hailed his ears in the far distance. These guys had explosives. Great. Ignoring the distraction for the time being he popped the back of the suburban open and crammed the suitcase in with its sister. He had no idea who was who in this town and what sides were fighting. He was at this point a confused bystander - and man did he hate it! "I'd love to get out there." Gray shook his head with a frown. "Let's figure this mess out before they blow up the rest of the city." He got in the driver's side and made ready to take directions from Autumn. They would have to avoid the conflict for now. Unless Autumn knew who they were they'd both be in the way.</s>
<\|description\|>Gray Conover Age: 31 Gender: Male Species: Human Physical Description: Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat. Talents: Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying. Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task. Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular. History: Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late. Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world. On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold. Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him. When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something. Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck. Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward. Possessions: Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge. Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down). Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool. A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife. Yes, and: Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do.</s> <\|message\|>Arachne (Assumed name: Autumn Weltich) Making note of the change in mood she sighed slightly. Telling him who she was was not something she wanted to do. But if something happened that forced her hand and revealed her true identity it would not end well. Best not to spring that kind of thing on someone when your lives are on the line. Ready to go in a matter of minutes Autumn followed Grey to his vehicle and got into the passenger seat. In mentioning the commotion in the distance she looked at him. "And that is why we're moving. Head toward downtown for now. I'll explain a few things on the way." No doubt that Grey would just follow directions for now she sat quietly for a time. Tension was rife in those several minutes as she mulled over how to explain the situation. Grey's morals would put her pretty high on his list of monsters to eliminate, having killed countless people both personally and by association. The numerous deadly creatures she created continue to kill even now without her intervention. Finally coming to some kind of resolution in her mind she put her hands down and looked at Grey. There was apprehension in her eyes and even the slightest bit of fear. "Secrets are my business and as you could probably suspect I have several of my own. A lot of them have to do with the business I'm in. But some are closer to home, things specifically about me that I keep locked away for a reason. You are a rarity in that there are not many humans that really know of the supernatural world. I am in a position where I need someone I can trust. Part of that is not keeping secrets that can cause trouble later on." Letting that hang for a few seconds she followed with a question. "Are you familiar with the Greek legend of Arachne?" Perhaps a bit more to the point all of the sudden but she needed to know where Grey's knowledge stood. If he did know then things would be easier to explain.</s> <\|message\|>Parael Magnus This was the worst mess Parry had ever seen since retiring to the human plane. And he'd seen 32 semi-potty trained toddlers on Mountain Dew not four years ago. His house was taking artillery fire from Russian missiles, a platoon of Nemsemet's goons were unloading assault rifle rounds into the walls and windows, and here he lay on the front lawn behind a dirt barricade while the motley band of supernatural misfits alternately ran for their lives or tried to fight back. It wasn't all bad though. Between Flint's hand cannon, the Demon's pistols, and (judging by the screams out back) Tony's lycan abilities, they might just have a shot at getting out of this whole thing- Which was when he heard the whine of the rocket, in seemingly slow motion, plunging into his apartment's bedroom window up above and exploding in a massive fireball. Bits of metal paneling, bricks and glass showered down onto everyone outside the building (including Parry) who continued to stare up at the gaping, burning hole in the building. "My clothes..." Parry whimpered, a tear forming in his eye. "All my clothes... and my scented candles... and my iPhone collection..." Now Parry may once have been a Celestial, a being of goodness, order, and devotion whose very existence was meant to keep the universe in line, protecting the innocent and doing no wrong. He served at the pleasure of the divine spark, being a total Tool for the forces of Light. But that hadn't lasted through the silk boom of the 1400s. Parry was now the most self-absorbed, materialistic and hedonistic motherfucker in the whole goddamn city of Camden. He ate fashion magazines, dreamed of walking the runway, and bagged every "stud muffin" he could convince to come back to his place on a Saturday night. So when he rolled onto his knees behind Flint's crumbling earthen barricade, eyes twitching in absolute rage and starlight forming in his hands, he was nothing short of a fucking mess. "This is for GUCCI!" He screamed, hurling a bolt at one of the gunmen across the street. The ball of gold light struck the vampire thrall square in the chest, forcing him to drop the AK in his arms as his clothes were consumed by fire. "AND YOU, BITCH!" He screamed, backing up to the front door to the daycare. "THIS IS FOR ARMANI!" The thrall woman, hefting a rocket launcher over one arm, caught a blast straight to the face as she turned to see the source of the shrill yell. Her eyeballs melting and shirt on fire, she dropped to the ground, rolling in the concrete to put out the flames. "MOTHERFUCKING CHANEL!" Which was right when someone, Parry wasn't sure who, grabbed him by the arm and hauled his ass back inside the building as a rocket landed not ten feet from where he'd been standing. And when he landed on his Prada diaper bag, that mad, fashion induced berzerker fury disappeared from Parry's eyes. "Oh. That's right. I always keep all my iPhones in here." Parry reached one arm deep into the bag and pulled out a gold 5s and a silver 6 Plus. "We're good everyone! I've still got my phone collection! Tony? Tony, where'd you go?"</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir Rikive was rising to her knees with her newly formed shield between her and the gun fire when another explosion rocked the building. She flinched, but kept her shield where it was as she rose up to her feet, looking toward the backdoor where the lawman had gone. Where is Parael? That question answered itself when she heard him yelling at the front of the building. "Oh no." She quickly ran to the door and watched with wide eyes as Parael laid waste to the ranks of their attackers. She had never seen him so angry before and she had certainly never seen him use his powers in such a way. It was frightening at the same time it was awe inspiring. She snapped from her amazement when she heard another horrific shriek fill the air. She lunged forward and grabbed Parael, pulling him back inside and onto the ground. She crouched in front of him with her shield protecting them from the debris of the blast. At his voice returning to normal she turned her head and gave him a flat look. His moods often changed so quickly and starkly, she truly wondered about the ancient beings sanity. "Out back." She informed him, pointing toward the door way. She heard wood begin to crack and she looked up with wide eyes. "MOVE!" She shouted, trying to keep at a crouch as she made to grab Parael's arm so they could quickly flee the building before it fell onto their heads.</s>	<\|message\|>Gray Conover The patter and boom of conflict sounded through the windows. Gray's attention was slightly distracted as he drove. Several times he shifted his gaze to the source of the sound as they drove to make sure they weren't in immediate danger. They were heading downtown at Autumn's direction. Autumn spoke over the distant gunfire. She sounded like she was trying to butter him up with basic info he knew for some big secret. Gray responded to the question. "Yeah. I know the myths." He glanced briefly at her just enough to see the hesitation in her face. "Arachne was cursed by the gods like Medusa was. Pissed them off really bad. Some perfect gods they were to lose their cool that easy." He trailed off, again looking at some movement on the side of the road. "Is that who we're gunning for? Is Arachne behind this?" He assumed.</s>
<\|description\|>Gray Conover Age: 31 Gender: Male Species: Human Physical Description: Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat. Talents: Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying. Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task. Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular. History: Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late. Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world. On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold. Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him. When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something. Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck. Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward. Possessions: Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge. Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down). Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool. A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife. Yes, and: Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do.</s> <\|message\|>Arachne (Assumed name: Autumn Weltich) It didn't take long for those inside to notice their arrival. It made Autumn curious as to which one caught them first. The door hadn't even opened before a voice echoed out. So they had a spirit among them it seemed. The snide comment about not buying anything was only moderately amusing to her, children. "Judging by the display up top I would say that you could very much use my services. I do not tolerate such carelessness. Had I gotten to you sooner you would not have been caught off guard by simple thralls." Her usual pleasantries died away when it came to business. But before anything else could be said Parael had opened the door and stuck his head out. The Celestial's face had seen better days. Given their previous encounter it no doubt caused him more pain to have it damaged than any actual physical displeasure. He was an eccentric and vain beyond any other she had the misfortune to encounter with exception of actual gods. Behind which were the rest of the misfits. Unsurprisingly everyone inside was antsy. Was bringing along Gray a mistake? Perhaps. But it would look rather out of place for her to just show up alone given the circumstances New Camden was in. Fortunately she didn't really worry about her associate being too brash just yet. This was her territory and that meant she was in charge. A question was raised about if she was who she appeared to be. The burden of proof rested between her and Parael, referencing the time she had been asked to haul him out of jail. To say it wasn't something she remembered would be a lie. It was one of the few case works that she dealt with herself while "working her way up the ladder." A formality simply to keep up appearances. Normally she would have blow off such a question but given that everyone was poised to attack she sighed and rolled her eyed toward the ceiling. "You had a matching ruby red velvet designer outfit. The jacket barely fit you and looked like it was trying to jump off your body. Small yellow flowers were embroidered all around it and a large red flower of the same material was sewn on your left shoulder. The cuffs were Faux Fur, same ruby color, which made you look even more ridiculous in you cell. I believe you said it was a Renato Balestra original and the only of its kind. As I recall the police report read 'Disturbing the Peace.' The owner though said that you were drawing clientele away and had a meltdown when a red wine had been spilled on you." Pointing toward her foot she made one last note. "You made it expressly clear to point out the dime sized stain on the hem of your pants to me many, many times." Despite the mounting hostilities she kept a cool demeanor and made very little effort to hide her confidence. Either she worked extremely well under pressure or felt no need to be intimidated by them. Leaning to one side she smiled to one in the background. "Oh and Karram. You're lucky that you don't still work for me. Fraternizing with former clients is strictly against 'company' policy." Of course only the one that the comment was directed toward would understand. As part of the agreement with the courts the employees were to stay well away from those they represented afterward. Terrible, mysterious things would happen to those that didn't follow that rule.</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir Rikive glanced over at Tony when he growled his warning about the presence of silver and a 'Hunter'. She couldn't see the man he spoke of from where she was in the room, but the lycanthropes were infamous for there sense of smell. While silver wasn't a threat to her, it was made obvious earlier that any small bit of metal slicing through the air at highspeeds was enough to hurt her. She also never had the displeasure of meeting a Hunter, but she had heard enough horror stories from other's to feel suitably wary. Even if they were normal mortals. "I want to know how they found us." She muttered. As Parael posed his question and the woman responded Rikive pressed her lips into a thin line. The muscles in her jaw ticking for a few moments before she lost her inner battle. She started laughing. A full belly laugh at that, her stomach muscles were starting to hurt as the light sound poured from her lips. She knew this was an extremely inappropriate time to be laughing. The very disorganized group was on the run and hiding from the demonic ancient taking control of the city. Their base was already possibly compromised depending on how in the Nine Worlds the two people outside found them...But she couldn't help it. In her mind she could very easily picture Parael, sitting in a small jail cell either crying or pouting because of the stain on his clothes. And that would be the only reason he would be upset, he wouldn't have given a damn about being arrested. Just that his coat had a small spot of wine on it. And it was red wine, on a red coat! Yes, it certainly sounded like this woman had met Parael. Reigning in her laughter she tried to grow serious once again. She could tease him about it later. And she very well intended too after the grief he gave her for being arrested herself.</s> <\|message\|>Parael Magnus Parry stood at the ready, recounting the experience as best he could. To be truthful, he only remembered waking up in the holding cell, sloshed out of his mind, with Autumn on hand to bail him out courtesy of de Lacy himself. And he did have a face ravaged by tears over the outfit that had been ruined in whatever kerfuffle he'd been involved in. That one-of-a-kind suit had been tossed when the dry cleaner had pronounced it dead on arrival. "Hey Autumn! How's the practice?" Parry bubbled, opening the door wider for her. "Guys, this is Autumn. She bailed me out of jail once in New York City. A lovely gem of a lawyer. And... oooooooh, who's the stud muffin you brought with you, hm?"</s> <\|message\|>Beth Callahan. Not a moment passed between Beth uttering her greeting and the woman opposite her responding before the door opened by just a few inches and Parael's face poked out, closely followed by Flint's. No doubt he still had the gun in his hand behind the door. Beth threw up her hands and rolled her eyes. Really, did these people have no tact? No matter, should the mortal bodyguard attempt to get by, she would turn tangible again. She folded her arms and watched the exchange, not for a second appreciating this woman's authoritative tone. No one ruled the roost here. Not any more. She respected de Lacy's authority because the system, as unstable as it was sometimes, worked for the most part. He kept supernaturals in check and gave them somewhere to go, so long as they didn't cross him. For Beth, he'd given her a future beyond death. What had Autumn done for them? And her wording -- tolerate, carelessness? She must have wanted to piss everyone off. At least her story about meeting Parry was entertaining. Staring through narrowed eyes at the woman, Beth waited for Parael to confirm her story. Once he did, however, a laugh broke through the small gap in the door. A rich and jolly laugh that, if she had a body, might make her skin tingle with excitement. Never before had she heard it, but she attributed it to Rikive nonetheless. Though Beth did her best not to smile, the corners of her ghostly mouth twitched upwards. She tried countering it with a scowl. The moment Parael opened the door, the humour fell flat. "What is it you think you can do?" she asked Autumn, ignoring the mortal and Parry's question regarding him. "Unless you know exactly how to kill the mummy, you're on the same level as we are."</s>	<\|message\|>Gray Conover Even eldritch horrors didn't produce the kind of revulsion that Gray suddenly had for this gender-bending creature before them. The hunter shuddered, wishing he could say to Autumn, 'It looks dangerous, can I shoot it?'. He liked money though and that would probably endanger his paycheck. The commotion behind the door of murmuring and suddenly mirthful laughter made this place feel more like the sub entrance to a psych ward. Were these guys going to be allies? Not exactly his first pick. "I'm Gray. I specialize in killing things that don't like staying dead. What's this about a mummy?" Despite being unable to see the ghost it wasn't uncommon to try holding a conversation.</s>
<\|description\|>Gray Conover Age: 31 Gender: Male Species: Human Physical Description: Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat. Talents: Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying. Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task. Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular. History: Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late. Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world. On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold. Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him. When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something. Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck. Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward. Possessions: Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge. Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down). Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool. A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife. Yes, and: Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do.</s> <\|message\|>Antonio Victor Barnes When the humans boiled, out, Tony decided that the situation was screwed and they better hit while the chaos was happening. But he told Autumn first, "Shieldmaiden and I are hitting the front door. Tell the others that the plan is hosed, do whatever they can." He added, even as he pulled off the jump suit, going down to shirts and a wifebeater, "Incidentally, you might want to tell your hunter to go easy on the silver. I'm the only lycan in this bitch and if he shoots me, he might not be able to escape, because the vampires are going to get him after he gets me. There's an AK in the van, lever down all the way for rock n' roll because the thralls are packing. Short, controlled bursts, you got it?" He didn't like leaving his back to a hunter. Not at all. And he didn't like it. Not one little bit. It was funny that Rivike managed to create a stir all of her own as she got to Parael first, but while they focused in on her, Tony made his way into the club, stiff-arming and pushing his way past panicking mortals while yelling, "Terrorist attack! Chechens are on a rampage!" in a spin that the Court would have appreciated back in the day -- with all the fucking Russian types running around, that made total sense, especially after the Boston Marathon bombings. But once it was down to vampires and thralls, the latter of who couldn't smell a lycan, he changed is tactics; the thing was, the thralls weren't sure what the hell was going on, so they were confused and it was easy to slip past them. But as soon as he pushed into the vampire club behind the restaurant. When he finally did encounter a vamp, snarling obscenely and not even realizing that he wasn't some vamper out for the happy juice out of a Celestial, he yelled, "GET PARAEL OUT NOW!" and he shifted rapidly and brutally, prying two sets of fingers into the vamp's head, and tearing off the jaw in one brutal motion. It got pretty chaotic from there on out. Once in man-beast, he ran on a great deal more instinct than intellect in this form, and it was hard to necessarily distinguish friend from foe when the hormones were flowing the way he did, as the thrill of killing and struggle overtook him. A vampire could certainly relate, but that was perhaps why Lycans and vampires detested each other so. Most of them had, perhaps, dealt with the wolves before, but never quite so close quarter -- when the celestial blood entered the place, the vampires got sloppy in the throes of their great thirst and desire, and the thralls were, quite frankly, not the first line of defense in these situations anyway. Still, it wasn't quite so easy as just ripping a couple thralls. The next vampire fought fast too, striking, using a table leg as an improvised weapon, bringing its muscle and speed into play. It was true that a lycanthrope was a nasty customer for a vampire, and probably the match for a couple in a toe to toe fight, and it was also true that Tony, possibly the only big cat running around town, was actually a good bit scarier than even some of the wolves, probably was good for a couple more. But there must have been fifty or so vampires in the room. Even more thralls. That was just too much, especially if they did recover their wits and start organizing.</s> <\|message\|>Flint White "I'll take your word for it" Flint said, as he noticed the Cinema explode into a frenzy of mortals ."Well the shit has hit the fan" Flint was soon outside the vehicle and to the boot of the car, inside he grabbed his beloved Thompson and racked the slide. "Ok stay beside me, I've got the range covered, but if they get close enough to caress my hair I'll need you on point" The orders where directed towards Karrem, and before he gave him chance to respond Flint was on the move towards the club. When he got to the entrance he saw the chaos unfold, vampires and thralls in troves as Parry lay bloody. Rikive thought with her sword and yelled something Flint could not hear. Tony was slashing and ripping people a part. Flint took a swig from his bottle and smashed it onto the floor by his feet. He was back in the 20's, the enemy gang drinking and brawling in front of him. He was the leader of the Booze Hounds, and he began to clean up. Flint fired from the hip, the gun in one hand as he began to light up fireballs in his left. The recoil was controlled, and the gun hit its mark as vampires and thralls where spattered by .45 calibre fire. In ten seconds the entire 100 round magazine was empty, the bodies of the men he had shot barely had hit the ground before the Thompson was dropped and his right hand erupted in flame. Flint aimed his two hands at the crowd and a wave of orange flame erupted over the masses, he hoped his comrades would be safe from the blast but his main concern was causing as much damage and as much panic that the Vampires would think they were up against an army of flame thrower wielding, machine gun toting bad asses. Instead of the ragtag group of sword wielders, drunks, monsters and the rest of the motley crew.</s>	<\|message\|>Gray Conover Half-tempted to grab his shotgun he reasoned there was another way. In the gym bag in his left hand were items meant to help him capture a vampire but they would certainly be good enough to disrupt the crowd given the right combination. He dropped the bag and unzipped it, sifting through several items, metal bat, wood stake, towels, - there it was. He pulled an aerosol can out of the bag followed by a towel and tied it hastily around the can, creating a makeshift sling. Out of a pouch he retrieved a lighter and lit the bottom. Gray didn't smoke but man did a lighter come in handy. He walked toward the Rusty Steak Knife as the towel burned, picking up heating and volume. With one good swing he shot it over the heads of his companions and into a group of surprised denizens. As the can impacted the pressure and heat caused it to burst outwards in flames catching clothing and skin alight and making for some impressive pyrotechnics from such a small object. Though not necessarily to an immortal foe it was one hell of a painful deterrent to buy the others some time. To further support the others Gray drew a Glock and started firing three-shot bursts into the wings of the vampire group that threatened to surround his retreating allies. They would need to get to the cars fast. Even outrunning vampires here could prove challenging. And then Flint showed everyone why Gray loved weapons with large magazines. Then he made the hunter's pyro trick look like a cheap match.</s>
<\|description\|>Gray Conover Age: 31 Gender: Male Species: Human Physical Description: Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat. Talents: Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying. Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task. Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular. History: Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late. Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world. On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold. Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him. When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something. Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck. Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward. Possessions: Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge. Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down). Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool. A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife. Yes, and: Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do.</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover This whole thing was absolute chaos. These morons had the organization of domesticated cows. The only real reason they were getting this far was because of their inherent powers. Gray shook his head slightly as he listened to August. Surely she was thinking the same thing. Slipping a hand to another pouch he pulled out a small push-syringe of a dark muddled liquid and approached their captive. "Hold her steady. I don't want to miss or this will hurt more than it needs to."</s> <\|message\|>Kaori Lyle Kaori felt a force hit her out of thin air. It was enough to knock her to the floor onto her back, her blade escaping her grasp. Her glowing eyes blinked, looking up at the face of a plain looking girl. Briefly, Kaori considered the multiple ways she could punish her for getting in her way: a bullet to the belly, the blade through the chest, or a bite to her unprotected neck. But the exchange that occurred in the next moments made her pause. They were discussing her kidnapping, she realized, as a taser changed hands. It didn't frighten or concern her as much as it confused her. From the scent of these three creatures - and the unmistakable stench of wild cat in the air - she could tell that this was little more than a rebel group of misplaced beings. But she couldn't fathom what logic would prompt them to attack a vampire coven with no real knowledge or organization, and then try to take one home. Idiocy. The girl tried to pull Kaori to her feet. Like hell you're taking me anywhere... But she stood. Even she, a creature of chaos, could feel the turmoil around her getting out of hand. There was gunfire, and a seemingly continuous low rumble of growls and snarls. It wouldn't end, not when these attackers were so clearly outnumbered and unprepared, yet annoyingly persistent. It would be destruction, if not within, then when another group of Nemsemet's vampire subordinates caught word. She needed to leave. She allowed herself to be lead from the building by a pair of insignificant hands around her wrists. Not particularly strong, she noted. Yet, the girl handled her unnecessarily roughly, seeing as she hadn't made an effort to resist just yet. Kaori felt a sense of rage building, desperate to snap and tear her captor down. Wait, she reminded herself. Acting now would only invite the reciprocation of her whole party. Despite how capable she believed herself to be, it would be more difficult to escape multiples versus just one. Also, she had no way of knowing exactly what form of creatures accompanied her, or their strength. She found herself pressed to a wall with the dinky device pressed against her abdomen. This seemed to be as far as the girl was going to take her for now. This would have to do. "Tony and Flint need rescuing! How soon can you get there?" the plain girl said. Kaori noted how her eyes never left her face. She couldn't help but spread her lips in an amused grin. Her face wasn't where the danger was. "Hold her steady. I don't want to miss or this will hurt more than it needs to." Her eyes darted to the voice. That scent. A low rumble rolled in her chest. She knew that scent. She took a second, maybe two, to take in the closer view of what must have been a hunter. He didn't look strong, not particularly intimidating. Yet somehow, he had stolen her kill once. In a way, that made it more offensive. She also caught the glint of a strange syringe in his hand. Not good. She didn't need to know what was in it to decide that she didn't want it in her body. The girl had 'secured' the vampires wrists with her own hands. What happened next took place in seconds. Kaori took hold of the girls wrist which had been vulnerable just by being so close to her grasp. She tugged her forward with a sharp jerk, turning in the same movement to rotate and deliver a kick to the back of her knees. The force should be enough to knock the girl from her feet and send her crashing into the wall. With a fling of a hand, she send a small blade slicing through the air towards the hunter with the syringe. It was well aimed, but she suspected he would find a way to dodge it. Kaori was gone before she could find out. She took a few running strides down the sidewalk, and made a sharp turn into a shady looking ally way. From there, she lauched herself up, gripping the lower rungs of a fire-escape ladder. She climbed - or sprung - upwards until she hit the roof. She took off, her speed paying off as she hopped from one roof-top to the next, clearing about three before the attackers below should have a chance to respond.</s>	<\|message\|>Gray Conover The hidden blade that flew at Gray's face was a bit of a surprise. He twisted to the side and deflected it by raising his right arm. It scratched at his armored forearm before clattering to the ground. She was fast and strong, quickly breaking the hold Beth had on her and slipping away into the darkness. Leave it to the disembodied spirit to hold someone down! Catch her or subdue the would-be lord surrounded by his minions? Gray took the easier option. He didn't have time to retrieve his shotgun if he wanted to catch her which alone would be a tricky feat. Instead he picked up the gym bag that still lay close on the ground and started sprinting after her. It was a good thing he wasn't a particularly big guy because that would make running a lot harder. Scaling the fire escape to follow her on the roof was not a feasible option. Plus it led right into any trap she could lay. Gray ran through the alleys below trying to head her off from the ground. This was unfamiliar terrain, he was disadvantaged but it would be better than trying to out-climb something as feral as a vampire. He slowed his pace in order to listen to the movements above. These buildings were thankfully only a few stories high so he could still hear footsteps as she ran atop the roofs. If she got any further away he might lose her. Good thing the block was about to end. Hope she can't leap fifty feet or this would be one hell of a chase.</s>
<\|description\|>Gray Conover Age: 31 Gender: Male Species: Human Physical Description: Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat. Talents: Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying. Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task. Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular. History: Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late. Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world. On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold. Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him. When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something. Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck. Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward. Possessions: Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge. Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down). Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool. A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife. Yes, and: Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do.</s> <\|message\|>Karram Sylian Could any aspect of this mission go as planned? The thought made Karram's head ache like before. The winged angel version of Parael was flying around wielding god knows what kind of mystical blade, Flint and Tony were down for the count, and now the vampire hostage was on the run. Karram wanted to face-palm but felt it better to tag along with Beth and Gray as they pursued their desired target. The vampire was skilled and experienced. But Karram calculated that the three of them together would be enough to capture her, so long as no additional surprises sprang out of nowhere. Karram watched as Beth manipulated trash cans and bottles and glass pieces, hurling them at the roof runner with great precision. Then she yelled at Gray and sent him flying onto a rooftop nearer to their target. "I'll back him up!" Karram spread his ethereal wings and zipped past Beth heading upward to assist Gray as he landed. By darting to the vampire's rear, he and Gray would have her flanked. As he flew, he drew his dagger and prepared to throw it to the side of the vamp's feet to hopefully halt her from changing course. With that, he reached the target and aimed the dagger at her feet. He stopped on a dime, hovering a few feet back from her. Karram noted a nearby tree on the street corner at the end of the rooftop. Could be a useful tactic if she attempts to run again... he thought to himself before turning his attention back to the female vampire. His sword was drawn still and he wore a determined expression as he stared at her back. "Why don't you stop running, okay?" Karram could see Gray was still holding onto the mystery bag of goodies. Hopefully something in there was strong enough to put their vampire friend here down for a bit. If not, Karram may have to delve into his repertoire of sleep-inducing magic and see if that works.</s> <\|message\|>Kaori Lyle Kaori had sprinted from rooftop to rooftop gracefully, like a bird soaring in the air. The darkly colored silk robe she wore trailed behind her in the night like a cape, its floral design catching the glint of moonlight every so often. She gained speed as she went, skipping and leaping over the gaps between buildings until she finally came to the end of the block. She stopped short of the ledge. Looking across the street to the next rooftop, she knew she was unlikely to make a jump that far. It would be foolish to attempt it, and would likely slow her down even more if she tumbled and broke a leg. It would heal, but she didn't have time to wait. The sound of foot-steps and bated breath alerted her to the pursuit coming up behind her from below. Three pounding heartbeats, she counted. And again, the distinct scent of the hunter who had stolen her prey. Her own pulse pounded in her ears. Long, delicate fingers curled into fists at her sides as she considered the ways she might correct that wrong. Within the medley of noise in her head, she experienced the unsettling feeling of one sound giving out. It was the same sort of sensation that occurred when one side of a pair of headphones stopped working. She refocused to realize that the running steps below had come to halt. Dammit. I have to keep moving. Just as she began to move towards the ledge, considering swinging down and finding an open window into the building, she caught movement in the corner of her eye. Kaori swerved to the side instinctually, narrowly avoiding a trash can and a line of randomized junk that had come flying with it. Her eyes darted to the direction it had come from, catching the slightest glint of light on a number of small shards of glass slicing through the air. She hit the ground. Normally, she might try to deflect it, or outrun it. Glass wouldn't kill her. It would, however, permanently damage the robe that had belonged to her deceased mother. Kaori pressed her hand to the back of her head to protect her long hair as well. Her dark locks had suffered enough damage for the night. She felt the slightest pinch when one shard nicked the back of her hand as it sailed by. She could hear yelling on the street below. She recognized the voice of the plain female, "If you have anything useful in that bag of yours, now is the time!" Kaori stood again, bracing herself for what was to come next. It was a surprise to see the hunter land before her. "You," she hissed. It was difficult to say what Kaori actually felt concerning the hunter. It was an odd sense of predatory obsession. She was only absently aware of the sound of beating wings behind her. With each breath she took, she was reminded of the night she had first encountered the hunter. She had never forgotten that scent. It nearly pushed her to leap from where she stood to tackle him to the ground. But she stayed still. They had her flanked. Her narrowed eyes - an unsettling contrast to the smooth femininity of her features - never left the face of the hunter. She studied him, as if she were trying to read a very dense book. "What do you want with me?" she finally asked. In the back of her mind, she contemplated the ways she might escape. Speed, and the nighttime shadow would be on her side. Yet, her curiosity over this brazen human kept her rooted.</s>	<\|message\|>Gray Conover The feeling of euphoria that came from being lifted off the ground with absolutely no control over your destination was exquisite. Flying through the air after some trash was anything but graceful. He choked off a gasp as he was hurled to the roof of the building from street level. It was like falling in reverse and in this case Gray liked gravity to stay in one direction. He stumbled a landing in his quarry's path. "If you have anything useful in that bag of yours, now is the time!" Apparently this was Beth's idea. Well, better than chasing on the street until he got tired and she escaped. He'd have to explain in vivid details what he thought of being surprised like that though. Gray's expression went from surprised to a wry smile like the guy at the poker table who just can't help how great his hand is. The gym bag was still clutched in his left hand and slightly unzipped, ready to pull something out of. The vampire's acute sense of smell would tell her that there was a hint of corrosive chemicals in there as well as some metal. As Karram drew closer from behind he tried to talk her down from running. The vampiress seemed much more interested in Gray, like somehow she knew him and he'd offended her. So he responded to her in kind. "Look I have no idea how you know me but I will answer that question. Sorry to say this is not about you. It's all about your recent neighbor. Calls himself Nemsemet." He prepared to reach into the bag. A feat she more likely would notice as he continued. "We're not in an asking mood. Help us out by coming with us. If not you get to see what's in the bag." And she would get to meet Karram.</s>
<\|description\|>Gray Conover Age: 31 Gender: Male Species: Human Physical Description: Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat. Talents: Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying. Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task. Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular. History: Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late. Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world. On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold. Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him. When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something. Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck. Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward. Possessions: Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge. Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down). Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool. A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife. Yes, and: Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do.</s> <\|message\|>Flint White Flint began to awake, the ground below him felt like it was shaking and his head was pounding. Oh wait, it was moving, he was in the back of the van, and his head was slamming every so often against the hard metal sides. Groggily, he began to rise from his slumped position. "That's what you get for using your powers too much" He thought to himself as he began to piece together what had happened. He was bellowing flames, then he went to go help Tony. Then… he couldn't remember after that. He focused his eyes and noticed Parry, being hugged by Rikive, and remembered what had happened before he had entered the building. It was as if his tiredness had melted away, his mind cleared and he stood up. He felt refreshed and energised as he looked towards parry. "Hey Parael". He said cheerily, to get his attention. When he turned, Flint's fist crunched hard into the celestials face. Parry would know that they were even now, and so Flint sat back down, removing his large jacket. Sweat stained his white shirt and the shoulder holster was visibly empty. He must have dropped his hand-cannon when he passed out and this made Flint even more infuriated. He unbuttoned his shirt to inspect the bruises and cuts covering his chest and sides. Nothing too damaging, but enough to sting when he inhaled. Flint patted for his whiskey bottle, but remembered he had smashed it onto the floor before unloading his tommy-gun into the club. This just wasn't Flint's day.</s> <\|message\|>Parael Magnus Of all the people in the van who could berate him for what he'd done, Parry found himself flinching more and more with every word Rikive shouted at him. Like a kicked puppy, his smoldering eyes were cast down to the floor of the vehicle, losing their ambient glow until they returned to Parry's natural baby blue color, and even then were positively dejected. Parry was ready for Tony, Flint, Autumn, everyone to name him a liability and cast him out as a pariah for what he'd done, but losing Rikive's friendship would hurt him the absolute most of all. So when Rikive squeezed Parry in an almost tackle-hug, he breathed in a sigh of relief and his own breath caught in his throat. So he just hugged her back as hard as he could, one hand patting her own shoulder. "I'm sorry," Parry said, squeezing hard. "I'm really, really sorry hon. I found some stuff out but it wasn't worth putting you all in danger." Parry released Rikive just long enough to turn toward Flint, his eyes brightening once again as he saw the perpetually well-dressed-for-a-bygone-era detective wizard. "Hey Flint!" CRUNCH! ------------------------------------- Billy Rikker's feeding frenzy was interrupted by the loudest, shrillest, most ear splitting noise he had ever heard in his century of living. It reminded him of the shrieking a spoiled toddler would make when denied the flashiest, prettiest, most expensive toy in the toy store and goddammit, she was gonna get that toy if it meant she would have to make a scene that would shame her parents for all eternity. So while the noise successfully broke the trance the close circle of vampires had been in while lapping the blood from the carpet, their super senses were picking up the sound as nails-on-a-chalkboard centimeters from where they stood. Suddenly his whole surviving clan was on the floor, clawing at their ears to get the noise to stop while up and down the street, car alarms for Mercedes, Lincolns, Bugattis and other half-million dollar vehicles activated their anti-theft mechanisms. ------------------------------------- Parry was knocked flat on his ass by Flint's punch, his nose once again collapsed. But he could absolutely feel that it was not where it was supposed to be, and Rikive, even if she were so inclined, wouldn't be able to heal him for a while after pulling both Parry and Flint back from the brink in such a short period of time. Parry had seen toddlers melt down from having scraped knees and other boo-boos. So he was emulating the best as he cried like a baby over his precious nose, the tires of the van squeeling away as they shot off to find Gray and Beth, Parry the Angel, slayer of Demons, protector of the innocent, semi-immortal warrior and self-professed hedonist kicked and screamed, holding his face, and only barely resisted the urge to say 'MOMMY! HE HIT ME!'</s> <\|message\|>Kaori Lyle "We're not in an asking mood..." She was enraged, and yet she almost had to laugh. Don't I feel like a lady. She was completely engaged with the hunter. "Do you honestly believe I would willingly help you against Nemsemet?" She gave an unbelieving shake of her head. Even as she glared at him, her wine-colored eyes carried warm undertones. As if it were the only part of her being that might still be human. Her icy tone was a stark contrast. Each word felt like a bite at the air, "You're incredibly foolish, human. You assault my people, and then you invite me to my own death." She paused, her head tilting as her eyes dipped low for a brief moment, judging his profile. "You don't even know what you're asking," she dismissively stated. And you didn't even say 'please.' Vaguely, she was aware of the presence behind her. She wasn't quite sure the nature of being he was, but she had surprise on her side. This hunter - human - would never be able to match her speed quickly enough to defend himself in a significant way. It was unlikely that she was going to get out of here unscathed, but she might as well enjoy the fight. After all, she was a creature of violence, and she didn't like his attitude. Seconds after the last word left her lips, she kicked off of the rooftop. She sprung from her place so quickly, it was almost a blur. Her body collided with the hunter. All of the concentrated - and complicated - fury she felt towards him exploded from her as she tackled him to the ground with a animalistic snarl. Her attack wasn't coordinated or thought through like her actions of evasion had been. This was purely instinctual. Now that she was close, so close she feel his pulse through his flesh, his scent was intoxicating. It made her lightheaded, but it didn't matter, because she didn't plan to resist the urge to part her lips and bury her teeth into the flesh around his shoulder. With a final draw of his aroma, she did just that, piercing the skin in search of crimson heat.</s>	<\|message\|>Gray Conover The vampiress had lunged with such speed and ferocity that it was too fast for him to react. She grabbed hold of him and the two tumbled across the roof until she had him pinned. He had lost hold of the bag as they rolled, some of the contents spilling onto the roof. Visible was a long metal spike, a metal bat still half-concealed by the bag, and an aerosol can. A set of fangs pricked his shoulder. It would have been more painful if he weren't already full of adrenaline. Gray moved his left hand quickly to draw the syringe from its place in his front pocket while drawing a Glock with his right, the same arm she was now drinking his lifeblood from. She in her fury smacked the syringe from his hand, pinned his arm and continued to draw from him. It clattered to the side. With his handgun he started to unload the magazine into her abdomen while using the painful opportunity to shove her off of him. Her teeth tore a chunk from his shoulder. She definitely looked more the monster now. He rolled to side to the closest equipment - the bag. What he grabbed was the metal spike. Sure, special wood could kill a vampire. He didn't want to kill her though. He wanted to paralyze her and if the syringe wouldn't work then filling her heart with some cold metal would. If this didn't work he may have to behead her and abandon the information before she leeched more of his life away.</s>
<\|description\|>Gray Conover Age: 31 Gender: Male Species: Human Physical Description: Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat. Talents: Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying. Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task. Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular. History: Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late. Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world. On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold. Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him. When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something. Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck. Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward. Possessions: Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge. Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down). Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool. A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife. Yes, and: Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do.</s> <\|message\|>Kaori Lyle It was always an unusual experience when a vampire's prey was left standing. When they died, it was simple. They ceased to be, and all of their life became your own. However, when they lived on, the connection between a vampire and her prey could become...complex. On occasion, downright supernatural. It all depended on the strength of the individual bond. There would often be some sort of emotional connection, or fixation that spawned out of the personal feelings of the vampire herself. A mild attraction to a prey could become full-blown infatuation. Such situations usually ended in destruction. For Kaori, the ugly mass of feelings she harbored toward the hunter took on a new edge. She now had a keen sense for him. His scent, even more prominent than before, could slice through a room of heated mortals like a beacon. His action spurred her to reaction, stoked the vicious flame of her emotion in an antagonistic way. So when he condescendingly addressed her as "little lady," it was all she could do not to leap across the room and rip his throat out. These connections, after all, were not typically positive. "Gray Conover," she repeated. The name rolled across her tongue like an ocean wave, smooth and powerfully possessive, "I've always tried not to name my food." That last line seemed a little too taunting to be delivered in such a pleasing voice. It contrasted in a rather disturbing way. She couldn't help herself. He had recently become the favored mouse to her cat. "This city doesn't need a mortal to save it, especially one that doesn't know what he's dealing with," there was nothing teasing about that statement. It was painfully obvious in her red-wine eyes. She gave a small, weary shake of her head against the wall as her eyes flitted towards the hallway where footsteps sounded ahead of not-so-distant conversation. "Don't you realize your own people don't even trust you?" she said, referencing to the comment Beth had made about her interrogation to the group in the other room. "Why would I trust you with my name?" By now, the dank room was full of varying supernatural beings. She shifted uneasily under the weight of so many eyes. She felt trapped, as they had intended her to be. Whatever concoction they had injected her with still lingered in her system with an oppressive grip. Slowly, she was healing, with her strength gradually returning. But for now, she was cornered, bound with her back to the wall. Even if she could break the rope in her weakened state, where would she go from there? In her scheming, she inhaled the room around her, trying to get an idea of who she was dealing with. Her body instinctually tensed at the scent of lycan, her smooth features wrinkling in distaste, "I didn't realize you kept a house-cat," she dryly remarked. To her, it was akin to the unpleasant smell of wet dog.</s> <\|message\|>Beth Callahan. With the instatement of Rikive as their for-the-time-being "leader" -- Beth was not exactly fond of the term, she had to steel her tongue just to say it -- the question arose as to who would rule the Court if by some miracle they deposed Nemsemet. On the slim chance they did succeed, opportunities came in abundance for each of them. But Beth, as soon as her mind began to wander, cast the thoughts of such things out, at least until their efforts proved useful. She stood tense behind the hunter in the interrogation room. She didn't need a body to feel the unease that shifted through the room at Gray's words. Something about him, aside from his occupation, disagreed with her. Whatever it was would have to be dealt with another time; they needed answers. Beth despised feeling empty-handed. Her best work required information, even the slightest tid-bit helped form a plan of action. As of this moment, she faced a blank canvas. Beth glanced at the doorway when she heard Parael's distant shouts, narrowing her eyes until Flint left and she saw Rikive pass on her way to follow. Parry wasn't one to cry into his pillow after a few verbal beat downs. Whatever summoned his panic came from somewhere, or something unknown... But that didn't put out the small pyre of guilt burning in the back of Beth's mind, should she have contributing to worsening whatever he was going through. Flint knew him well, and Rikive might be some sort of best friend to him, they'd deal with it. Turning back to the matter at hand, Beth stepped up next to the hunter, eyes pinned on the vampire. "Look, kid. We don't want you here any more than you want to be here... as over-used as that is... and this trigger-happy moron will shoot you full of holes if you don't give us a reason not to. So let's make this simple and quick. What do you know about Rikker's dealings with Nemsemet?"</s>	<\|message\|>Gray Conover This chick really had it in for him. She was as insulting as they came. Though, how could he really blame her. The place was a regular menagerie and apparently she was the star attraction. The most insulting was what she said after labeling him food. "This city doesn't need a mortal to save it, especially one that doesn't know what he's dealing with." She was dead wrong. Nothing ticked him off more than underestimating the underdog. He held his peace just to let her finish. "Don't you realize your own people don't even trust you? Why would I trust you with my name?" She had a fair point with that last one. Just as Gray was ready to retort Beth interrupted the scene. You could say she 'stepped' up to them except she didn't make noise and he could swear she never touched the ground. Her voice was airless and hollow. The best you could do without lungs. "Look, kid. We don't want you to be here any more than you want to be here... as overused as that is... and this trigger-happy moron will shoot you full of holes if you don't give us a reason not to. So let's make this simple and quick. What do you know about Rikker's dealing with Nemsemet?" "I take offense to that." Gray responded quickly. "And I already shot her full of holes! Look where that got us!" Gray stood up from the chair. The desire to make this situation work gently was being dwarfed by the lack of respect he was receiving. "This vamp has the best point I've heard in a while. Why don't I just leave? You monsters'd be able to get by just fine fighting a war with each other! You'd fight to the point where the government figures out what's going on and smears you off the map. Just like EVERY damn time there's a supernatural uprising!" He finally gave pause. This was certainly a moment that he felt very clear on his intention and emotions. "Yes, I'm mortal. It's my advantage against all you prideful pricks. I get to see the beautiful sunrise. I get to feel the world as God intended. And now I get to fight like David and Goliath every time I hunt. The Goliath in town is Nemsemet. He's dangerous, true. Yet we have the knowledge that he died. That means we can kill him again." Gray finally turns his attention to their bound guest. "If you want to save anything dear that you have left around here then you MUST help us stop him. Despite what most of these cursed individuals think I'm not here to rip things apart." Damn monsters and their predisposition against hunters. Some of the best hunters out there ARE monsters.</s>
<\|description\|>Gray Conover Age: 31 Gender: Male Species: Human Physical Description: Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat. Talents: Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying. Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task. Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular. History: Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late. Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world. On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold. Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him. When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something. Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck. Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward. Possessions: Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge. Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down). Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool. A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife. Yes, and: Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do.</s> <\|message\|>Kaori Lyle Once the discussion had finally fell silent, Kaori lowered her eyes, contemplating. Voices had come at her from each side. Minus a few threats that she didn't respond well to, she couldn't deny the logic of the arguments that came from Gray, the nameless brunette, and the one whom she had come to identify as the lycan. Well, all but that last bit he had so cattily thrown in. Immediately, she wanted to disregard the lycan, with his fowl breath and wild animal smell. But, she had to admit that such thoughts pertaining to the fate of the supernaturals had occurred to her in the past. Were they doomed under Nemsemet's leadership? Of course. She had known this from the beginning. He would lead the city of supernaturals to their destruction. She had laid low in the wake of his terror, unwilling to accept their fate, but knowing it was inevitable. No one would be foolish enough to oppose him, would they? And here was a group of random beings thrown together, stepping on each others toes, trying to find a way. She took a breath, preparing to speak, not completely sure of what was going to come out when she heard a distant voice in the silence. "...they know what they have. Charles Gordon knows what he has." Charles Gordon. She seemed to turn inside herself as she weighed the implications of that name. It had been a long time since she'd heard it. "You kicked the hornets nest," she finally mumbled in that youthful, soprano voice. "Fine. If I decide to help you, we have to agree on a few things." She stood to her feet here, surprisingly graceful for someone with her hands tied behind her back. The wound in her chest, though sore, had finally stopped bleeding. Her arms tensed, and in the next moments there was a stretch, and then the snap of rope behind her back. She brought her arms to the front of her body, casually rubbing at the spot where her pale flesh had been reddened by her bounds. "First of all, if you want my help, stop threatening me. It's putting me in a really foul mood, and I already don't like most of you." Her eyes shifted to the direction of the lycan and rolled away in irritation, "Second, you don't ask for my name. I can't be sure that anyone knows I'm here right now, and I don't want to be on their hit-list if and when this thing goes south. And finally..." She gave a quick glance over her attire with a wearied sigh, bloodied and torn from battle with these beasts, "You let me shower." She paused, placing her hands on her hips and looking over the pairs of eyes that were staring back at her, "Agreed?"</s> <\|message\|>Parael Magnus Parry gave Rikive a hug back, steadying his breathing as best he could after that burst of memory from Charles Gordon. It was quickly apparent to him that any memories he could hit Charles with, Charles packed an equal punch to throw back with the caveat that the vampiric sociopath didn't give a flying shit about. Parry could show him the extinction of a dozen cities and it would be no skin off that man's nose. Meanwhile, Parry would have to sit there and take it if Charles decided to send any more delightful memories through the sword. After Rikive left, Parry took a second to gather up his emotions and thoughts, along with his clothes. The absence of Charles' tainted fingers on his sword didn't change the fact that Parry felt his soul was forever dirtied by it. Sooner or later, Charles or his associate would lay hands on the sword again and the feeling would return. Parry would have to live with it. Just like he would have to live with whatever they did with the weapon. Like that image he had of the sword- his sword- slicing through Billy Rikker's spine like a knife through water. When he followed Rikive down the hall of the bunker and into the "interrogation room" where their vampire was being held, Parry had his hair in a ponytail, his skin still scrubbed red and smelling of expensive melon soap, and his jeans and Gucci shirt were horribly damp. "Shower's free," he said to the vampire. "And news flash to the group. Charles Gordon used my personal sword to kill Billy Rikker. Whoever the fuck Charles Gordon is."</s> <\|message\|>Beth Callahan. Beth rolled her eyes again. "Yes, I agree, why don't you just leave?" she replied, visibly sizing up the hunter. In spite of his help in capturing the vampire, Beth would feel infinitely more comfortable without him present. The man vanquished people like each of those in the bunker on the regular, and beside that, she did not appreciate his attitude. "We're not savages," she said, straightening her back. "We can keep this from the outside eye. You certainly aren't going to do a better job." She shook her head and turned to the vampire. "Can you believe him?" Circling the room at a languid pace, she continued her observations of its inhabitants. She held herself in check, and such a thing took strength, when Autumn spoke. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm already dead," would not be met well, and nor would it help their cause. So Beth kept quiet, even when Flint returned; she could trust Tony to say what she was thinking. And just as their captive seemed ready to cooperate, the girl changed. Her stature altered in the slightest of manners, in a way only someone paying close attention would notice. It was a quarter inch movement of the shoulders, or a tilt of the head just so. Beth lifted her head a fraction when the sound of strong, determined footfalls carried through the bunker. Reluctantly, she pulled her eyes away from the vampire upon hearing her name. She gave the Asgardian a nod, then slowly followed her into the hall. Even as she walked some few feet from the doorway, she could hear the vampire's words. For a moment, a small smile played on the ghost's ethereal face. The girl positively vibrated with information... and a quiet tenacity Beth respected. She regarded Rikive, but before she could question anything, Parael sailed by them and into the room. His voice was clear when he spoke, very little trace of the screaming they'd heard earlier, and so the name reached her in full. Charles Gordon. The name set in motion a visceral recollection of shared memories that left her feeling defiled, in the same way someone marching on her grave might. The hive-mind of memories among the undead opened itself to individuals without prompting and whenever it pleased, and Beth had yet to meet any ghost with the ability to choose what they saw. She picked up the nauseating scene of a massacre of Cheyenne hundreds of years ago, where Charles Gordon fought and killed under another's command, a long time ago in conversation with an old ghost who provided her with the odd lesson on burials and ancient magic. Experiencing it again worsened the feeling. "He's at least two hundred years old," she announced, standing in the doorway. "And experienced in war. He fought to kill Native Americans, one battle I can verify, the rest, I'm guessing he didn't join in just for the one go at it." She crossed her arms, frowning. "Anyone else like to share?"</s>	<\|message\|>Gray Conover "For the record; I haven't threatened you since you woke up." Gray smirked at their suddenly privileged guest. "Yes, I agree, why don't you just leave?" Beth suggest. "Yeah I think I will." Gray responded. His eyes narrowed in a scowl at the ghost. For someone with a weight lighter than air she certainly liked to throw it around. A heavy sigh escaped his mask as he left the room. He stayed just long enough to catch what the vampire shared. What was the point? In this zoo Gray felt like the star attraction because he was simply human. At the lone room in the end of the hall he took a seat on a crate. This was one of the store rooms and was just as good as any other unoccupied room to fume in. Sleeping here would be dangerous. The vampire that had just tried to eat him only hours earlier would now be walking around. Gray leaned back against the wall and yawned. The sun would be up really soon. It would be a good time to take Beth's suggestion and do something while everyone else did what they always did so well. Hide.</s>
<\|description\|>Gray Conover Age: 31 Gender: Male Species: Human Physical Description: Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat. Talents: Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying. Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task. Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular. History: Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late. Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world. On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold. Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him. When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something. Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck. Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward. Possessions: Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge. Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down). Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool. A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife. Yes, and: Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do.</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover The deluge started. With the others running ahead and otherwise taking cover he strolled along. It was like being in Oregon in the middle of the year where torrential downpours were commonplace. He enjoyed the sound of the rain and getting wet wasn't unpleasant to him. The patter gave way to a blinding sun that was completely out of place. The building that should have been there was replaced by a vibrant display of unfamiliar trees. The cool night air was replaced by a humidity that clung to you like a filthy diaper. "What?" He shook his head with a heavy sigh. "I hate magic. It'd be different if I had some. I wonder if Karram can fix this. Where am I anyway?" He conversed with himself.</s> <\|message\|>Flint White Flint had been taken by surprise by the sudden change of atmosphere. Of course if you had looked at him you wouldn't have noticed. He had preferred the rain however, to wherever he was now, too hot and damp. He began to rack his brain, really look around, it was some sort of forest he knew that much, and the fauna was not American, neither European. Maybe South American, hell for all he knew he could be in Asia. No, he had to stick with the facts, he was still at the manor home, just some kind of magic wards protecting the place. Flint began to walk along what seemed like a trodden path. He needed to find the manor, or at least whatever the manor was hidden under in this place. The ground under Flint began to become more messy, leaves seemingly covering where a path once was twigs seemingly placed to look random rather than naturally forming, it seemed someone was attempting to hide the path, or possibly to hide a trip… The thought was interrupted by the familiar click of a grenades pin being removed. Luckily Flint's reactions whereas on point as they were 60 years ago, and the man was covered in solid rock as the explosion occurred, the shrapnel chipping away at the dirt and stone but not making its way through, Flint shifted the barrier out of his way as he wiped the sweat off his brow. "That was a close one…" Flint muttered to himself, trailing off as he soon realised this wasn't any ordinary jungle, this was a battleground. Just not one he had thought in, it was a guerrilla war, a lot more sneakiness and a lot more camouflage. Like some of his brethren in Japan, the war Flint avoided to be shipped off to France. This was going to be 'fun'</s> <\|message\|>Arachne (Assumed name: Autumn Weltich) An explosion nearby alerted Autumn to someone else nearby. Kind of hard to miss a grenade going off. It was a semi-familiar sound even though she had not been in any wars. There were enough through history to educate her about many different weapons of war. Given that this was a illusion it was probably a safe bet to assume it was constructed from one of their minds. Given the terrain she would say Tony. This looked enough like Vietnam to draw a decent conclusion. It didn't entirely help though because they were still trapped. Sighing she began to make her way toward where she heard the explosion. On the way she stopped at one point. A nigh invisible line stretched across a clearing. She'd made enough webs for it to stand out clear as day. She practically invented this kind of thing. That wouldn't be the only trap around though. The ground and water were dangerous. Maybe it was time to forgo some of the things she was hiding. Losing her shoes she took to climbing over the vegetation. Her hands and feet easily clung to the foliage and made getting around much easier. Only down side was the noise it made. Most of the plant life wasn't strong enough to not flex under her weight. Beat finding a trap though. Before long she managed to spot Flint. Landing in a safe spot she stepped over to him. "Flint, stumbling around explosives?"</s>	<\|message\|>Gray Conover A lanky figure knelt in the distance. Even with the dirtied clothing covering it there seemed to be something unsettling. Gray drew closer quietly, his feet barely rustling the grass. The kneeling figure breathed with short hard breaths, hyperventilating like a dog. The straw hat on their head shifted as Gray stepped a little too loud. Slowly the head turned. It stopped turning before he could see it. Rising to its feet it completed the revolution. Skin ashen like a dead man, face trapped in a state of terrifying rage, eyes that were shriveled from being unable to blink. Without those she would seem like a normal Vietnamese villager. With a deafening shriek of rage the 'blessed' of Abigor sprinted at Gray like an uncaring PCP addict. "Shit." Was what he managed before raising the shotgun level with her chest and unloading three shots. They stunned her for a moment before she started running again, practically unhindered by the more than a dozen bleeding holes scattered across her chest. After cranking off a few more shots the cursed woman closed the distance and despite severe wounds and clear holes through her face she screamed with unearthly fury, grabbing at the shotgun and disarming him. Gray happened to be still attached to the shotgun by a strap and was thrown along with the weapon by her beastly strength. Rolling back onto his feet as quickly as he could, he leveled his weapon instead for her right bicep. Bam, bam, bam! Splintered bone and sinew still allowed the worthless limb to cling onto the woman. She jolted forward, clearly unaffected by the pain of her mortal wound. "That's right!" Gray shouted, aiming for the throat. Another three bangs rang through the air. Vital fluids emptied from the devastating wound to her neck. The volume of her gurgling was unnerving as she kept moving forward. The kukri slid cleanly out of its sheathe on his chest. With a quick and strong sweep he cleaved into the unprotected flesh on the right side of her neck. The kukri met spine and Gray pulled it out. Blood spattered onto his vest. His unbalanced adversary was dizzy, no longer screaming and now tottering uneasily. He pulled the blade back and aimed at the neck one more time. This time the heavy silver knife sliced all the way through and the head sailed to the side. The body remained standing for another few seconds, the hand remaining intact reached out to grasp her enemy in a last fit of anger before falling free. Gray kicked the prone body a little. Comfortable that it could no longer try to kill him he wiped the bloody kukri off on a less sullied part of her clothing. "I hate these things." The knife was returned to its sheathe. These followers of rage and war were rarely alone. He looked around to make sure that there wasn't another hiding in wait to strike. His adversary's project wasn't at all comforting. The bed of razor-pointed bamboo spikes was half buried in the grass. "I hope the others are doing well." Gray spoke to himself.</s>
<\|description\|>Kaori Lyle Age: 42 (Appears Early 20's) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire Physical Description: Talents:- Immortality - Enhanced strength and agility - Enhanced Senses - Healing - Experienced with firearms and blades - Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes History:During the Vietnam War, Kaori's father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised. In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family's decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income. In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of 'work' into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her 'change' into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles. Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively. Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence. Psychological Profile:Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn't exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn't opposed to taking a life, she also doesn't murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she's always been a bit of a loner and doesn't confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it's unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty. Possessions:-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother -A small arsenal of firearms -Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent.</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir Rikive shot a look at Flint for punching her arm. She couldn't help it, the image was so unexpected and vivid it made her laugh. Maybe it was a sign she needed to sleep. Dismissing the thought she tensed as the two newcomers entered into the bunker, clenching her jaw and tightening her grip on her sword. For once she found herself agreeing with Flint, it was a very bad idea to let them in. Though technically, none of them had any reason to trust each other. And we're planning to band together to try and fight Nemsemet. She thought with an internal grimace. The other's were putting their weapons to the side but she was hesitant to do so. Though, she could see that having her sword drawn wouldn't help ease the tension in the air. Her shield returned to it's sheath form as the woman walked in and sat herself down with the grace and authority of a queen. "How is it exactly you found us?" She asked, sheathing her sword and placing it back at her hip in her belt. "If you could locate us, it's possible that other's could as well using the same means."</s> <\|message\|>Beth Callahan. Beth shot the others a look when their unwanted guests strode inside, her features tight with irritation. It was high time they got going with whatever move they planned to make, and these delays only meant less time to prepare. The longer it took, the more chance Nemsemet had to find them. Now, she wasn't afraid exactly. Why should she be, if she couldn't die? The dread mummy himself posed no threat to her life, or afterlife as the case may be, but the chaos he was already beginning to rain on New Camden did not harmonise with her plans for the future. She did not like being caged, either. Or spoken down to, or very much of any of this. She took some comfort in knowing the rest of their troupe felt the same way towards Autumn and the hunter. It helped to know she could seize the mortal's body if she wanted, too. She peered outside once more, then shut the door with a tangible hand. For as long as the strangers grew comfy in the bunker, she would remain an ethereal form by the door. The way this woman spoke suggested she wanted something from the group, or perhaps from Nemsemet's demise. Everyone had an ulterior motive in the underworld. Certainly the death of the dread mummy and the rebuilding of the court proposed a new start and plenty of opportunities to anyone with half a brain. With most of the undead running into Nemsemet's arms as soon as he took control, Beth knew that well enough. She decided Autumn had much more to do in New Camden than what the other courts sent her there for. Once Rikive asked the obvious, Beth crossed her arms again and added, "And what business did they send you here for?"</s> <\|message\|>Arachne (Assumed name: Autumn Weltich) As the weapons were being put away Autumn listened to their concerns. They wanted answers that she was not quite ready to divulge just yet. "I'd rather not say how. It exposes someone I've spent a lot of time keeping under wraps. I'm sure some of you can understand the benefit. The less people know the more useful the skill you see. Once the cat is out of the bag then everyone will know how to thwart it and it would be of no use to anyone. Suffice to say it is a skill uniquely bound to me that doesn't leave any trace of magic for our mummified friend to find. At least no more than anywhere else." That was about as close to the truth she was willing to go. She didn't know enough about the majority of them. She would need to get to know them individually and even then that did not mean they should know. Some of her closest friends had no clue who she really was. Then there was the question about the courts. This was one she would be completely open about. "They sent me here to figure out what's happened to New Camden. If you've been inside this whole time then you might not know that anyone that comes in that has any connection or knowledge of the supernatural cannot leave. So once you've gone in then you aren't getting out. Those humans who are ignorant of such things can come and go as they please. Additionally any communication related to such is cut off. With nothing to go on the courts are scrambling over themselves in confusion and fear. Being a thorn in their side they saw fit to force me in to figure out the situation. To be honest I had no intention of coming anywhere near this city myself. Though the mystery of it all has some allure to it." The last sentence was probably the most genuine thing she had said up to that point. Having access to so much information the unknown was a most exhilarating experience. Were she honest with herself this was probably the most fun she's had in centuries. Dropping the story telling she switched back to the task at hand. Their run in with the web earlier brought with it a tiny spider that hid itself from view. Until entering she could not know what what was said. Physical barriers were still a hindrance, but it wasn't often that one came across that completely cut off communication. Picking up where they left off as if she had been there Autumn felt the need to put in her two cents. "Your plan to capture a vampire is a good one. I can help scope out a potential target with sufficient clout without raising an alarm. The capture will need to be done by someone else though."</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover Diplomacy was not a very fun process. Didn't really feel any different with monsters. Both ways it sucked. Diplomacy with lead was a lot easier and generally more fun. Too bad it had some terrible consequences. Despite requests from the tall old-fashioned man he held onto his weapon. True that it might be a concern to them but it was also one the things giving him a sense of safety in this dungeon filled with unknown creatures. "I'll hang on to mine. Dangerous creatures about." He did do them the respect of putting the safety on and laying in next to him, hand still perched on it, after finding a folding chair to sit in. "I can do it." Gray immediately volunteered. "I just need to know how old the target is, his nationality and a chance to get some groceries. If I can't get those I'll just make do." Vampires had specific weaknesses that were exploitable and it was quite possible to capture them if you took them by surprise. Good thing Gray did this kind of thing for a living. Time to earn to brownie points!</s> <\|message\|>Antonio Victor Barnes "Elders ain't that easy. They keep themselves surrounded by security and they don't show themselves like the goons and the minions do unless they have cover, because they've been around long enough to appreciate the risks and lots of people want to get at them. Like I said, best to snag one down on the totem pole and pump them for information. If we get lucky, the bloodsucker has a grudge somewhere that we can use to our advantage," since that's how internal vampire politics worked -- they weren't real families, like, say, a pack of werewolves, that squabbled in private but put together a unified front under pressure. It was safe to say that vampires worked together well in peacetime but tended to show the fractures under the surface when the pressure came on. "Beats going into a club full of them in plain sight. If we're going to get some vampires to turn on one another, we can't be a pride parade in the middle of Frisco, gotta make it deniable. That means actually kidnapping one and hoping they play along. And if they don't play along, we interrogate them for real and dispose of them. But if they play along, you want to make it look like they didn't cooperate because vampires don't like to take sides openly, it's always some sort of fuckin' catch or bullshit with them." These were words out of the mouth of a man that, and sometimes others forgot, ran a not for profit foundation that helped economically disadvantaged people find jobs, re-purposed abandoned buildings for industrial and commercial use and otherwise pushed any in-the-black performance back into new projects in the community. He took home a modest (actual modest) paycheck for the job. But Horizon didn't get big by accident, it identified areas where it could react nimbly to a situation when New Camden's government couldn't, and it often couldn't due to bureaucracy and gridlock, providing the right training for the jobs they had, and changing faster than local and state government could to address the manpower needs. So businesses started doing business with the charity instead. But the plan was a result of that sort of thinking -- bottom line calculation in the name of a greater good. Grab a vamp and make them talk. "Pick whatever space you want," he shrugged to Flint. Personally, he wasn't sure he wanted to sleep down here anymore. Things just done got tense, especially with the Punisher running around with his silver-loaded shotgun always in hand.</s>	<\|message\|>Kaori Lyle The loft the young vampire occupied was a wide and darkened space, dressed with fine things she'd acquired over the last few decades. Moments ago, she had stood in the center of it all, wondering if it would survive the oncoming war. It was an odd feeling, the sense of loss that accompanied the idea of seeing it perish. In her glowing eyes, it was her life's work. Her beautiful loft, with these beautiful things, was a source of validation for her worth and skill. She had secured many a client by bringing them here, allowing them to see who she was through the lens of what she had come to possess. "Just things," she had reminded herself, as she buried her attachment beneath the instinctual need to survive. It was simple: she couldn't take these things along, and she might never be coming back. It all depended on how this night progressed. Now, she stood before a decorative floor standing mirror. She was a tall, willowy creature. Her height she had inherited from her father, and every other human aspect seemed to speak of her mother. Her skin tone had paled, but her facial features and long, shining black hair were reminiscent of the woman who raised her in her mortal days. Even her mother's eyes had somewhat survived her transition into immortality; Kaori's natural eye color had been so deep, that it muddled the bright crimson that was typical of vampires' eyes. Instead, her eyes were now the color of red wine. It occurred to her, as she looked over herself, that these similarities would be the only thing she was guaranteed to keep of her mothers. Her eyes shifted from the mirror to the wardrobe that stood nearby. Moving towards it, she pulled a long silk robe from a hanger. It was deep blue color, not bright enough to compromise the night. This garment had been passed down through the generations of her family, and from her mother's hands to her own. She tugged the smooth fabric around her shoulders, allowing it to dangle loosely from her frame. If nothing else, at least she could die in it. Everything else she took would be purely practical. Behind a sliding wall was her personal armory. From it, she selected a number of small, easily concealable weapons. They were tucked into various compartments inside her boots, leather pants, and beneath her top. She almost felt vulnerable leaving without heavier firepower, but it was key to lay low in times like these. Big weapons invited questions, and she didn't much care to answer them when the future seemed quite so…unpredictable. As she approached the heavy metal door that separated her apartment from a dimly lit hallway, she cast a sidelong glance at a decorated red envelope that lay open on a coffee table. She gave a roll of her glowing eyes. Vampires were such dramatic creatures. Nevertheless, she swiped it up between two fingers and tucked it into her pants. She stepped through the wide door, bringing it shut with a notable 'clang'. A flight of stairs would lead her upwards and spit her out onto the nighttime street. Suddenly, she was a part of the night, blended to it like moving shadow. Her black hair acted as a cloak, hanging down to nearly graze her hips. It would take a keen pair of eyes to find the glint of her pale face reflecting the moonlight, or the colored accents in the floral pattern of her robe.</s>
<\|description\|>Kaori Lyle Age: 42 (Appears Early 20's) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire Physical Description: Talents:- Immortality - Enhanced strength and agility - Enhanced Senses - Healing - Experienced with firearms and blades - Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes History:During the Vietnam War, Kaori's father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised. In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family's decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income. In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of 'work' into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her 'change' into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles. Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively. Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence. Psychological Profile:Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn't exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn't opposed to taking a life, she also doesn't murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she's always been a bit of a loner and doesn't confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it's unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty. Possessions:-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother -A small arsenal of firearms -Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent.</s> <\|message\|>Beth Callahan. Beth watched the woman through narrowed eyes, still off-put by her earlier comments. She eyed Autumn from head to toe and back again, trying to understand what made her so knowing. She found nothing. She could not even tell whether Autumn kept her secrets out of necessity or simply to annoy the rest of them. However, Beth was pleasantly surprised to hear a touch of honesty in Autumn's voice when she answered the second question. She frowned harder just to hide her smirk. She had figured out Nemsemet's barrier shortly after learning of the Count's death and her undead fellows' betrayal. The tormented spirits, those with the old "unfinished business" routine going on, they had thought Nemsemet could relieve them of their tasks and chains, and finally end their afterlives. The rest simply weren't loyal, and some of the risen dead completely stupid besides, or got themselves vanquished. All of Beth's key contacts gone, in just one night. She'd tried to get out of town then, but found herself unable to move past the town border. What she didn't know, until Autumn opened her mouth, was that someone else could get in. This information she kept locked away for another time. She nodded her acceptance of Autumn's story and looked at the others as the conversation rerouted to the capturing of a vampire. Beth unfolded her arms but remained close to the door. She gestured to Autumn. "Do your thing. Find us someone low on the food chain," she said, then looked at the hunter. "I'll go with him. If he decides not to play nice, at least he won't be able to kill me."</s> <\|message\|>Karram Sylian Karram sheathed Oakbane and sat back down. He listened to Autmumn give her answers, one offering little to no details and the other giving a sufficient and plausible reason. Karram let his arm sling over the end of the chair as he assumed a more laid back posture. It was unlike him to do so, but at this point, his brain was fried and the excitement from earlier was finally taking its toll. The conversation quickly returned to the capturing of a vampire... one high enough in the ranks to offer information or play along with their plans, but not too high as to instantly sound the alarms when he or she didn't show up for dinner. Karram ran through a list of names in his head, but the majority of those he'd been in contact with were either dead or too close to the end boss. He did have one skill that could prove useful in this situation, however. He sat up in his chair and looked towards the group. "If we can't get the vamp to help us, we could attempt an inside job. Snag the vampire, interrogate em, and then I can disguise myself with their likeness and hopefully walk in to the club freely. From there we stage a- I don't know- a Trojan horse routine or something and get to our target? Just a thought, a... last resort or alternative route." Karram would shrug with each progressively less confident sentence. He wasn't thrilled to throw himself to the dogs like that, but if he was going to avenge his uncle's death and help this ragtag group stop the damn mummy, he'd have to share what gifts he had to offer.</s> <\|message\|>Antonio Victor Barnes Later... Tony was not a guy with a car thief skillset or any particular comfort in playing the role of some sort of kidnapper, but other people in the bunker clearly had the skillset. So they got their hands on one of those full-sized vans that a plumber might use and some other sundries and then parked themselves near the Rusty Steak Knife, which was an awful name for even a seedy looking bar like this. That was the exterior, anyway. Vampires enjoyed their melodrama and what looked like a seedy joint was actually meticulously designed to be seedy. Inside was a nightclub that'd rate with anything one might find in the richest part of the city, designed to be as chic and ultramodern and unbelievable as possible. It was a place where the vampires brought their new thralls, or people about to be enthralled -- blood dolls, muscle, government officials and businessmen that they were trying to subvert. It was a busy, bloody little beehive of activity, especially as Nemsemet took the gloves off on creating more vampires and enthralling more mortals. Vampires did so adore to hide in plain sight. The number of couture'd people mingling nearby, however, as well as the presence of thralls in somewhat cheaper suits and wielding radios gave a bit of a lie to that. Sure, it was in the ghetto, but vampires didn't fear mortal gangs. In most cases, they had control of them anyway and what they didn't control they could wipe out pretty quickly enough -- it was a simple matter of supplying rivals with guns moreso than slaughtering outright. No one screwed with the operation, as a result. The security wasn't there because they were worried about mortals -- they always had the mortals in the palm of their hands. It was the great advantage of vampires. The vampires, moreso than any other group that existed in the society of the Courts, were masters of subverting mortal institutions -- their blood was addictive, they looked very human. They had the advantage of being human once, and knowing the system more thoroughly. A predator who was once the prey knew all the prey's vulnerabilities, given sufficient thought. Moreso than any in the Courts, they adapted to the modern world and thrived, only held in check by the rules that kept them from breeding too many, too fast and endangering their existence. And apparently, Nemsemet played upon the right ones with their frustrations at living in the shadows, promising a better day. It was headache-inducing to think about it. Sure, the Court was messed up -- the tithe alone was onerous taxation, kept high so as to ensure a steady pool of servants and keep the Courts nobility in plush luxury. It created the resentments that led to so many supporting Nemsemet in dismantling the system, even if it meant throwing mortals to the wolves. And some of them were the wolves, so that idea was made even more appealing. Tony was in the driver's seat, wearing mechanic's coveralls -- he figured he was black and that made the whole disguise credible, but he had to stay in the car with a good bit of air freshener because vampires could smell him; their sense of smell was acute too. It meant he couldn't do the snatch, but that was okay, because he didn't want Rivike doing the driving anymore anyway. Theirs wasn't the only vehicle, but this was the snatch-van. "Okay, guys, I'm coming up on it," he said as he parked the van nearby.</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir Rikive flipped open the small, black purse Parael had given her to hold her sword. It still fascinated her how with a simple spell, this tiny bag could hold an infinite number of items. Plus it matched her outfit, which seemed pretty fitting for a nightclub and may help her seem less suspicious. Not a terribly difficult look to put together since the only clothes she had were ones Parael had picked out for her during their shopping excursion. She shut the purse and let it fall by her hip, the strap hanging across her chest. "Should I go move into position?" She asked Tony, leaning forward a bit from her seat in the back of the van so she could see through windshield.</s>	<\|message\|>Kaori Lyle The scent of blood emanating from the Rusty Steak Knife was intoxicating. Consuming. To say she craved it was an understatement. What blood was to a vampire could only be explained in the most passionately extreme of terms. It was sensual, moving, more alluring than power, coffee, or other addictive substances. More than smell it, a vampire could taste the faint copper on her tongue, feel the heat of it in the air. It was this way each time Kaori approached the Rusty Steak Knife, where blood was stocked in human form and otherwise. For this reason, she didn't care much to do business here. She was too close to snapping, like a starving tiger let out of its cage. Delicate matters required a clear mind. As she took a lungful of the air - so thick - her veins ignited within her, burning her from the inside. She heard the low growl pulling from her throat before she realized she was making the sound. Abruptly, she cut off her own air, emptying her lungs and leaving them that way. She didn't need oxygen, it was only another form of observing and interacting with the world. With a steady click, click, click, of her heeled boots, she began to make her way through the dross surrounding the building. Distractions, all of it. She was significantly dressed down from what the people around her wore, but she had intended to be. There was no use attracting attention right now, and a short dress wouldn't do her any favors if things got...unpredictable. Her quiet, low-key presence didn't stop a pale female with curled, blonde locks from cutting her off before she'd made it halfway through the outer crowd. Her hair fell just above her shoulders, highlighted and primped to match a clingy tube dress that looked like it had been sized to be a shirt. Her glossed lips spread into a smile, "I see you must have gotten our letter. To be honest, I'm pleasantly surprised. We were beginning to think you'd left town." Kaori's eyes rolled to the side in annoyance. Vampire women were usually unearthly and hypnotic, but at times they were nothing more than passive aggressive bitches. "The hell do you want, Kel?" she impatiently demanded. She didn't want to be here any longer than necessary. The blonde vampires features hardened at Kaori's tone, "Don't be so rude, not when we're trying to help you." Kaori's arms folded as her face tightened in a snide smirk, "Help me? You don't have the power to help yourself." The crowd was beginning to thin around them as people began to migrate indoors. A low growl rumbled from Kel's chest, "Quill is gracious to allow you to-" "Quill is your elder, and you should know better than to speak for him," she hissed the words menacingly down at her, "My business is with your leader alone." Her features had lost all sign of amusement, instead, her delicate china-doll face had twisted into a mask of hostility. It was similar to what you might witness when a wolf defends it's territory. Threatening, for your own sake. The petite blonde knew she had pushed too far. She wore a stubborn pout on her face, but nevertheless her eyes reluctantly shifted to the ground in submission. She stepped back slowly and wordlessly gave an acknowledging nod of her head before skittering away. Kaori watched each movement until the girl had disappeared through the doors of the building. Once she was gone, Kaori took another breath of copper-tainted air, and released it slowly, letting the fury escape her. There were a few stragglers left outside, but the majority of the clubs population were now indoors, partaking in whatever unsavory activity that had developed here tonight. The tall vampire leaned against the rough brick of the building. Her head was spinning from the residual taste of blood in her lungs and throat. She squeezed her wine-colored eyes shut to steady herself and regain control of the animalistic instincts that threatened to overwhelm her. Her mind was a powerful tool that she prided herself in wielding, unlike so many of her kind. It was what separated leaders from the followers, and a large part of the reason she hadn't already been killed. She would need it's advantage tonight, and so she waited in the cool darkness for her senses to clear.</s>
<\|description\|>Kaori Lyle Age: 42 (Appears Early 20's) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire Physical Description: Talents:- Immortality - Enhanced strength and agility - Enhanced Senses - Healing - Experienced with firearms and blades - Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes History:During the Vietnam War, Kaori's father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised. In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family's decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income. In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of 'work' into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her 'change' into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles. Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively. Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence. Psychological Profile:Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn't exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn't opposed to taking a life, she also doesn't murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she's always been a bit of a loner and doesn't confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it's unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty. Possessions:-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother -A small arsenal of firearms -Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent.</s> <\|message\|>Flint White Flint turned his head to look to Karrem, his five-o-clock shadow shading his hard features. His face looked of utter boredom mixed with anger and a dollop of unemotional death. He looked down at the bottle then back to Karrem, the expression not changing. He finally spoke. "Sure" the word came out in a mono tone voice almost like that of a robot. The bottle of whiskey was soon in Karrems hand as Flint turned back to look towards the club. Action man had exited the car and seemed to be talking to someone, Flint didn't pay too much attention as he unfortunately began to see the plan fall apart. Parry was walking towards the door, and Flint didn't seem so bored anymore. "Fuck" He muttered, sitting up straight and looking to Karrem in the back seat. "You sure you are going to be ok with that stick if shit go's down" Flint asked, noting the sword at the faerie's hip. "I can give you something with a bit more reach if you want."</s> <\|message\|>Karram Sylian Karram took hold of the flask and took two deliberate sips of the bitter liquid. His face twinged a little before turning normal once more. He handed the flask back, wiping his mouth as he did. He stretched his arms out wide and let out a half-yawn before Flint muttered a breathy "Fuck". Karram instantly reached for his blade's hilt again and peered out the window of the vehicle. Parry was on the move and was soon talking to the bouncer... about what Karram could only guess. And none of his guesses led to a happy ending. "You sure you are going to be ok with that stick if shit go's down. I can give you something with a bit more reach if you want." Flint was eyeing Karram's sword. This sword had seen many years of use, and yet it never dulled. Eromyr had given it to him as a gift in celebration of his passing the council's judgement in Ireland. Oakbane, a fearsome blade that allowed Karram to harness natural energy and wield it as his own. Its abilities were powerful, but relatively unknown even to other magical beings. Karram was good at keeping secrets after all. He clutched the hilt tighter and looked back up. "Oakbane is suited for any style of combat, so I think I'll manage. Thank you though, Flint. It 'shit go's down', as I presume it will, I've got your back." He nodded to emphasize his point and slid into the front seat with ease so he could get a better view of the club's entrance.</s>	<\|message\|>Kaori Lyle The tall vampire had heard her name being called from the door, "Kaori, party of one?" But Quill would wait, at least long enough for her to gather her senses. Unfortunately, as soon as she had, she heard the 'pop' of silenced fire. To the ears of a vampire, a silencer was virtually useless. It wasn't as explosive, but perfectly audible. But then, the silencers weren't for their benefit. Any wise vampire wouldn't dare intervene in Rikker's work. The silencers were meant to keep things quiet enough to deflect unwanted outside attention or interference. Although, in times like these, it seemed unlikely that anyone would want to tangle with the vampires, especially someone as powerful as Rikker. A scent ripped through the air along with the subtle sound. In instant, her head was swimming again. What is this? She was pulled under. So deep, she had all but lost her grip completely in a fraction of a second. A menacing growl raked over her ears. She felt it rumbling from her throat like thunder. Her body tensed into a low crouch, like a coil ready to spring. It was instinctual at this point, impossible to ignore for someone her age. The older a vampire, the more experienced they tended to be with matters of self-control. Kaori was remarkably controlled for someone under 50, but even she couldn't help herself with that incredible aroma in the air. Chaos erupted within and around the club as celestial blood was shed. In a short instant, she was a part of the animalistic herd, frenzied over a feeding. She sprung from her spot on the wall, leaping half the length of the sidewalk and running along the rest to burst through the entrance. There was a mass of vampires clawing for the bloodied body on the floor. Kaori knew it would hardly be a single minute before the unknown idiot was torn to shreds. She didn't care. Her eyes flicked around, assessing the situation. It was similar to the way a pack of wolves would feed. Rikker and his guards lunged for the body, claiming the kill. The majority of vampires in the club had flown from their seats. The wiser ones had begun to form a circle, waiting for a scrap or two to be left behind by their leader. The few younger vampires that either couldn't control their urges or didn't know they had to were torn back, viciously punished by an older and wiser beast. Battles developed, staining the floor with rich, red warmth. The unfortunate mortals that had shown up that night began to scream, looking for an escape and torn down before they'd made it more than a step or two. It was unrestrained violence and chaos, and Kaori hated how good it felt. It was home for a vampire. But not just any blood would do tonight. It had to be this unearthly creature. Her predatory gaze narrowed in on him, in the murderous clutches of Rikkers fists. The vampires in the surrounding circle grew increasingly anxious as Rikker toyed with his prey, as if the conquest would be satisfaction for the group as a whole. Rikker took his time, savoring the kill and teasing it with the chilling words, "I will devour you."</s>
<\|description\|>Kaori Lyle Age: 42 (Appears Early 20's) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire Physical Description: Talents:- Immortality - Enhanced strength and agility - Enhanced Senses - Healing - Experienced with firearms and blades - Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes History:During the Vietnam War, Kaori's father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised. In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family's decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income. In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of 'work' into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her 'change' into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles. Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively. Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence. Psychological Profile:Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn't exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn't opposed to taking a life, she also doesn't murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she's always been a bit of a loner and doesn't confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it's unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty. Possessions:-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother -A small arsenal of firearms -Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent.</s> <\|message\|>Antonio Victor Barnes When the humans boiled, out, Tony decided that the situation was screwed and they better hit while the chaos was happening. But he told Autumn first, "Shieldmaiden and I are hitting the front door. Tell the others that the plan is hosed, do whatever they can." He added, even as he pulled off the jump suit, going down to shirts and a wifebeater, "Incidentally, you might want to tell your hunter to go easy on the silver. I'm the only lycan in this bitch and if he shoots me, he might not be able to escape, because the vampires are going to get him after he gets me. There's an AK in the van, lever down all the way for rock n' roll because the thralls are packing. Short, controlled bursts, you got it?" He didn't like leaving his back to a hunter. Not at all. And he didn't like it. Not one little bit. It was funny that Rivike managed to create a stir all of her own as she got to Parael first, but while they focused in on her, Tony made his way into the club, stiff-arming and pushing his way past panicking mortals while yelling, "Terrorist attack! Chechens are on a rampage!" in a spin that the Court would have appreciated back in the day -- with all the fucking Russian types running around, that made total sense, especially after the Boston Marathon bombings. But once it was down to vampires and thralls, the latter of who couldn't smell a lycan, he changed is tactics; the thing was, the thralls weren't sure what the hell was going on, so they were confused and it was easy to slip past them. But as soon as he pushed into the vampire club behind the restaurant. When he finally did encounter a vamp, snarling obscenely and not even realizing that he wasn't some vamper out for the happy juice out of a Celestial, he yelled, "GET PARAEL OUT NOW!" and he shifted rapidly and brutally, prying two sets of fingers into the vamp's head, and tearing off the jaw in one brutal motion. It got pretty chaotic from there on out. Once in man-beast, he ran on a great deal more instinct than intellect in this form, and it was hard to necessarily distinguish friend from foe when the hormones were flowing the way he did, as the thrill of killing and struggle overtook him. A vampire could certainly relate, but that was perhaps why Lycans and vampires detested each other so. Most of them had, perhaps, dealt with the wolves before, but never quite so close quarter -- when the celestial blood entered the place, the vampires got sloppy in the throes of their great thirst and desire, and the thralls were, quite frankly, not the first line of defense in these situations anyway. Still, it wasn't quite so easy as just ripping a couple thralls. The next vampire fought fast too, striking, using a table leg as an improvised weapon, bringing its muscle and speed into play. It was true that a lycanthrope was a nasty customer for a vampire, and probably the match for a couple in a toe to toe fight, and it was also true that Tony, possibly the only big cat running around town, was actually a good bit scarier than even some of the wolves, probably was good for a couple more. But there must have been fifty or so vampires in the room. Even more thralls. That was just too much, especially if they did recover their wits and start organizing.</s> <\|message\|>Flint White "I'll take your word for it" Flint said, as he noticed the Cinema explode into a frenzy of mortals ."Well the shit has hit the fan" Flint was soon outside the vehicle and to the boot of the car, inside he grabbed his beloved Thompson and racked the slide. "Ok stay beside me, I've got the range covered, but if they get close enough to caress my hair I'll need you on point" The orders where directed towards Karrem, and before he gave him chance to respond Flint was on the move towards the club. When he got to the entrance he saw the chaos unfold, vampires and thralls in troves as Parry lay bloody. Rikive thought with her sword and yelled something Flint could not hear. Tony was slashing and ripping people a part. Flint took a swig from his bottle and smashed it onto the floor by his feet. He was back in the 20's, the enemy gang drinking and brawling in front of him. He was the leader of the Booze Hounds, and he began to clean up. Flint fired from the hip, the gun in one hand as he began to light up fireballs in his left. The recoil was controlled, and the gun hit its mark as vampires and thralls where spattered by .45 calibre fire. In ten seconds the entire 100 round magazine was empty, the bodies of the men he had shot barely had hit the ground before the Thompson was dropped and his right hand erupted in flame. Flint aimed his two hands at the crowd and a wave of orange flame erupted over the masses, he hoped his comrades would be safe from the blast but his main concern was causing as much damage and as much panic that the Vampires would think they were up against an army of flame thrower wielding, machine gun toting bad asses. Instead of the ragtag group of sword wielders, drunks, monsters and the rest of the motley crew.</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover Half-tempted to grab his shotgun he reasoned there was another way. In the gym bag in his left hand were items meant to help him capture a vampire but they would certainly be good enough to disrupt the crowd given the right combination. He dropped the bag and unzipped it, sifting through several items, metal bat, wood stake, towels, - there it was. He pulled an aerosol can out of the bag followed by a towel and tied it hastily around the can, creating a makeshift sling. Out of a pouch he retrieved a lighter and lit the bottom. Gray didn't smoke but man did a lighter come in handy. He walked toward the Rusty Steak Knife as the towel burned, picking up heating and volume. With one good swing he shot it over the heads of his companions and into a group of surprised denizens. As the can impacted the pressure and heat caused it to burst outwards in flames catching clothing and skin alight and making for some impressive pyrotechnics from such a small object. Though not necessarily to an immortal foe it was one hell of a painful deterrent to buy the others some time. To further support the others Gray drew a Glock and started firing three-shot bursts into the wings of the vampire group that threatened to surround his retreating allies. They would need to get to the cars fast. Even outrunning vampires here could prove challenging. And then Flint showed everyone why Gray loved weapons with large magazines. Then he made the hunter's pyro trick look like a cheap match.</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir "I'm-" Rikive cut herself off to slash at another vampire. "TRYING!" She shouted back at Tony. She needed a bigger distraction, something that would really draw these damned creatures away from- Flames as bright as the sun suddenly swept through the crowd and Rikive held up her shield to protect herself from the heat. The fire blasted against her shield as it blew over their heads. She remained relatively untouched, but the vampires surrounding her ignited and furthered the spiral of chaos. Flint. That would certainly work. She crouched down and picked up Parael's limp body, throwing his lanky form over her shoulder. Her shield arm gripped onto him to keep him there so he would be somewhat protected. Taking in a deep breath she charged back into the crowd, not as thick as before and greatly distracted by the attack on the fringes. A few times she had to lash out with her sword or slam her shoulder into someone, but she managed to bully her way through the crowd. A stray bullet went in her gut and she grunted, but pressed on. Finally she broke free onto the other side, panting for breath and sweat beading on her skin. "I got the eldhúsfífl!" She shouted, running toward the safety of Flint and the hunter Gray. "Send them to their weak and pitiful Gods, lads!" She yelled as encouragement while she passed them and headed for the door. Loved as she would to stay and continue to help with the fight, Parael had been left to bleed for far too long. The outside air felt like a blast of arctic wind when she emerged and headed for the van. She threw open one of the doors to the van and laid Parael down on the floor as her shield returned to a sheath. It clattered onto the floor and she placed Winterthorn beside it, within easy reach if something else happened. Rikive barely acknowledge those still in the van and focused on taking care of Parael. A heap of swears and other choice words fell from her lips in old Norse as she ripped open Parael's shirt to get to the wounds of his chest. Her heart was pounding in her chest and it had nothing to do with the battle. It had everything to do with the fact her close friend may very well die if she made a mistake. Tear's were close to the surface of her eyes as she pressed her hands tightly over the two gunshot injuries. The blood was warm against her skin but it sent a chill down her spine. Relax. Wisps of luminous white mist drifted from between her fingers, her magic flowing into Parael's chest to repair the damage. Please don't die.</s>	<\|message\|>Kaori Lyle There was an extremely limited number of ways to kill a vampire. After turning, each vampire learned these methods by heart. Sunlight, fire, and staking with wood that was older than the vampire itself. The only additional way to subdue a vampire was to take off its head, and that would only last as long as the head and body were kept separate. So, Kaori believed they held the advantage. When a vampire fell to a bite or a bullet, they would likely stand again in the next few moments. The added attack wasn't enough to pull her focus from the scent of celestial blood. Not until flame erupted into the space. She felt the heat as if it were coming at her in slow motion. It took her less than a second to spring from the floor onto a nearby bar counter. Thanks to their natural speed, a good number of the vampires had dove or otherwise dodged the path of the flames, but a few who had been trapped in chaos were suddenly lit up like a number of small Christmas trees. The agonizing screams reached her ears seconds before the scent of burning flesh, and that was enough to slice through her blood-dazed mind like a blade. Her concentration returned to her forcefully, strengthened by her sudden enragement. Not all of these - actually barely any of these - were her friends. But they were her people. Her kind. And they were being burned alive. Her red-wine eyes darted about the space. She zeroed in on the source of the fire. She slipped a hand into her boot and pulled out a small, curved blade with an ornate handle. She took a running start across the bar, zipping over its length and diving from the edge. It was just enough momentum to put her above the flame. She could feel the sting of heat against her skin and smelled the singe of a few strands of her long, shiny hair. How dare they. With her fist curled around the handle of her blade, she turned her body enough to swing her arm around and down as she came back towards earth, aiming a swift swipe of the sharpened blade at the back of the living flamethrower and landing in a low crouch behind him.</s>
<\|description\|>Kaori Lyle Age: 42 (Appears Early 20's) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire Physical Description: Talents:- Immortality - Enhanced strength and agility - Enhanced Senses - Healing - Experienced with firearms and blades - Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes History:During the Vietnam War, Kaori's father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised. In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family's decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income. In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of 'work' into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her 'change' into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles. Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively. Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence. Psychological Profile:Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn't exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn't opposed to taking a life, she also doesn't murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she's always been a bit of a loner and doesn't confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it's unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty. Possessions:-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother -A small arsenal of firearms -Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent.</s> <\|message\|>Karram Sylian Karram watched as Beth took the object from Flint's possession and began escorting their new vampire friend to the van nearby. Karram followed at a quick pace, keeping an eye out for any danger up ahead. But as usual, things never go as planned. Beth noticed before he did, but her expression caused Karram to look back. Flint was down and Tony was shot. Fucking fuck... Karram thought. "Get them out of here!" Beth shouted at Karram. Karram noted Autumn heading that way as well. But he didn't hesitate. Wings spread again, he darted through the bastards in the club and landed near Flint and Tony just as Autumn reached them as well. He nodded at her as she grabbed them up. Karram slammed the ground, causing several root systems to split through the floor and ensnare two vampire attackers going after Autumn and her baggage. Karram backpedaled from there, covering Autumn's back as she ran towards the vehicles outside. Of course that's when he witnessed a shining winged Parry slicing through thralls and vamps like butter screaming some nonsense about thriller...? Karram was happy he was okay and totally... well... un-surprised to see him acting in this fashion.</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir His heart wasn't beating, he wasn't breathing anymore. Panic swept through her as she pressed her hands tighter against his chest over his heart after closing the bullet and bite wounds. She pushed her healing energy into his heart in pulses, similar to the defibrillator's human used to restart a heart. Come on, come on! She could sense that the damage to the tissue was being repaired, but his heart was silent. Rikive swore in frustration when she heard Beth call out to her from outside of the van. Parael's heart still wasn't beating. Her other comrades needed her, but Parael... Gritting her teeth and shutting her eyes tight, she slowly pulled her hands away. It was too late. She pressed her blood covered hand against her eyes, taking in a deep shuddering breath to try and pull herself together. There was still a battle raging, other's that were still alive needed her help. She should have gone in after him right away... "Aw, lovely! I missed you so much!" The sound of Parael's voice made her snap her head up, her pale green eyes wide when the slender man tackled her in a hug. She was completely stunned and speechless, she had been so sure that he was dead. Gone forever! Relief and joy quickly replaced her surprise and she was about to hug Parael back when he pulled away from her. She watched him dig around in his diaper bag in confusion. As he pulled forth the iron sword and six wings emerged behind him, her mouth dropped open in shock. Parael...had come out of retirement!? Rikive stared up at him with wide eyes, the power radiating from him reminding her of her mother's people. She smiled before laughing at his departing words, more from sheer relief that he was alive and still the same as before. Except for, of course, the wings. She picked up her own sword and sheath, following him out of the back of the van and looking at Beth with the vampire. It seemed like she had their new 'friend' under control. "Get her in the van, I'll help get the others." She said before heading back toward the club. With Parael providing cover and a suitable distraction, Rikive located the downed Flint and Tony being dragged out by Autumn. Karram was also helping to cover her back with what few people were focusing on them as they retreated. She sheathed her sword and crouched down to pull one of Tony's arm's over her shoulder as he was the most obviously injured. She could help walk him out while healing him. She didn't know what was wrong with Flint. She pressed one hand against Tony's bleeding back as she stood, using it to start healing him. The mist like magic flowed into his skin from her hand, spreading through his back and starting to push the buckshot out while healing the damage it caused. "Can you two carry Flint between you and get him to his car? Parael is providing us," She ducked when a head flew over hers. "Cover."</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover This whole thing was absolute chaos. These morons had the organization of domesticated cows. The only real reason they were getting this far was because of their inherent powers. Gray shook his head slightly as he listened to August. Surely she was thinking the same thing. Slipping a hand to another pouch he pulled out a small push-syringe of a dark muddled liquid and approached their captive. "Hold her steady. I don't want to miss or this will hurt more than it needs to."</s>	<\|message\|>Kaori Lyle Kaori felt a force hit her out of thin air. It was enough to knock her to the floor onto her back, her blade escaping her grasp. Her glowing eyes blinked, looking up at the face of a plain looking girl. Briefly, Kaori considered the multiple ways she could punish her for getting in her way: a bullet to the belly, the blade through the chest, or a bite to her unprotected neck. But the exchange that occurred in the next moments made her pause. They were discussing her kidnapping, she realized, as a taser changed hands. It didn't frighten or concern her as much as it confused her. From the scent of these three creatures - and the unmistakable stench of wild cat in the air - she could tell that this was little more than a rebel group of misplaced beings. But she couldn't fathom what logic would prompt them to attack a vampire coven with no real knowledge or organization, and then try to take one home. Idiocy. The girl tried to pull Kaori to her feet. Like hell you're taking me anywhere... But she stood. Even she, a creature of chaos, could feel the turmoil around her getting out of hand. There was gunfire, and a seemingly continuous low rumble of growls and snarls. It wouldn't end, not when these attackers were so clearly outnumbered and unprepared, yet annoyingly persistent. It would be destruction, if not within, then when another group of Nemsemet's vampire subordinates caught word. She needed to leave. She allowed herself to be lead from the building by a pair of insignificant hands around her wrists. Not particularly strong, she noted. Yet, the girl handled her unnecessarily roughly, seeing as she hadn't made an effort to resist just yet. Kaori felt a sense of rage building, desperate to snap and tear her captor down. Wait, she reminded herself. Acting now would only invite the reciprocation of her whole party. Despite how capable she believed herself to be, it would be more difficult to escape multiples versus just one. Also, she had no way of knowing exactly what form of creatures accompanied her, or their strength. She found herself pressed to a wall with the dinky device pressed against her abdomen. This seemed to be as far as the girl was going to take her for now. This would have to do. "Tony and Flint need rescuing! How soon can you get there?" the plain girl said. Kaori noted how her eyes never left her face. She couldn't help but spread her lips in an amused grin. Her face wasn't where the danger was. "Hold her steady. I don't want to miss or this will hurt more than it needs to." Her eyes darted to the voice. That scent. A low rumble rolled in her chest. She knew that scent. She took a second, maybe two, to take in the closer view of what must have been a hunter. He didn't look strong, not particularly intimidating. Yet somehow, he had stolen her kill once. In a way, that made it more offensive. She also caught the glint of a strange syringe in his hand. Not good. She didn't need to know what was in it to decide that she didn't want it in her body. The girl had 'secured' the vampires wrists with her own hands. What happened next took place in seconds. Kaori took hold of the girls wrist which had been vulnerable just by being so close to her grasp. She tugged her forward with a sharp jerk, turning in the same movement to rotate and deliver a kick to the back of her knees. The force should be enough to knock the girl from her feet and send her crashing into the wall. With a fling of a hand, she send a small blade slicing through the air towards the hunter with the syringe. It was well aimed, but she suspected he would find a way to dodge it. Kaori was gone before she could find out. She took a few running strides down the sidewalk, and made a sharp turn into a shady looking ally way. From there, she lauched herself up, gripping the lower rungs of a fire-escape ladder. She climbed - or sprung - upwards until she hit the roof. She took off, her speed paying off as she hopped from one roof-top to the next, clearing about three before the attackers below should have a chance to respond.</s>
<\|description\|>Kaori Lyle Age: 42 (Appears Early 20's) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire Physical Description: Talents:- Immortality - Enhanced strength and agility - Enhanced Senses - Healing - Experienced with firearms and blades - Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes History:During the Vietnam War, Kaori's father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised. In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family's decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income. In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of 'work' into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her 'change' into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles. Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively. Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence. Psychological Profile:Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn't exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn't opposed to taking a life, she also doesn't murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she's always been a bit of a loner and doesn't confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it's unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty. Possessions:-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother -A small arsenal of firearms -Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent.</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover The hidden blade that flew at Gray's face was a bit of a surprise. He twisted to the side and deflected it by raising his right arm. It scratched at his armored forearm before clattering to the ground. She was fast and strong, quickly breaking the hold Beth had on her and slipping away into the darkness. Leave it to the disembodied spirit to hold someone down! Catch her or subdue the would-be lord surrounded by his minions? Gray took the easier option. He didn't have time to retrieve his shotgun if he wanted to catch her which alone would be a tricky feat. Instead he picked up the gym bag that still lay close on the ground and started sprinting after her. It was a good thing he wasn't a particularly big guy because that would make running a lot harder. Scaling the fire escape to follow her on the roof was not a feasible option. Plus it led right into any trap she could lay. Gray ran through the alleys below trying to head her off from the ground. This was unfamiliar terrain, he was disadvantaged but it would be better than trying to out-climb something as feral as a vampire. He slowed his pace in order to listen to the movements above. These buildings were thankfully only a few stories high so he could still hear footsteps as she ran atop the roofs. If she got any further away he might lose her. Good thing the block was about to end. Hope she can't leap fifty feet or this would be one hell of a chase.</s> <\|message\|>Parael Magnus The sword was fucking heavy. Much heavier than his own back at the (ruined) Daycare, so Parry's slices and dices among the vamps in the front lobby were much slower than he was used to. A Dawn Blade was a Dawn Blade to a Celestial, but they were unique snowflake weapons, made by the higher ups for each foot soldier. Plus this was Cymriel's sword, Cymriel's wings he was using. Kind of like borrowing your buddy's gun for the evening. If the police traced the serial number without looking at the prints, well, Cym would be up the Creek and Parry would be facing consequences for how he used it. Ducking, weaving, and parrying was the name of the game then. The maitre'd vampire, Jean, took one look at Parry in the fight and booked it for the kitchen- and Parry let him go. When one of the higher vamps took a swipe at him, Parry went ahead and gave the guy a once-through the arm at the wrist. The vamp's hand dropped to the floor, but Parry didn't follow through, too busy making his way through the melee toward the head snake. Billy Rikker was on his hands and knees near the back of the foyer, licking Celestial blood out of the carpet with some of his senior vamps. This whole thing needed to end. Billy had a hundred Thralls and easily half as many pure-vamps in his service, but that number could be cut in half from the wounded and dead they'd piled up. Problem was, Parry knew Billy had more muscle than this and the group only got this far by surprise alone. They needed a bargaining chip to get out of this mess. "Tony!" Parry yelled, pointing at the head Vamp with his free hand. Hopefully the were-Tiger would get the message over the melee. They needed a hostage to get out of here alive. Or an opportunity to cut the head off this snake. Billy had clout over a lot of the supernaturals in the East Side. A few shifter packs, a witch coven, even a minor fae court. They probably wouldn't throw in with Tony just because Billy was dead or captured, but they might reconsider their loyalties after their leashes were cut. Parry, meanwhile, let Autumn and Gray (YUMMY!) book it for the vamp that had run out the front door. Parry was content to let them go for her, unfurling his wings fully to block the Entrance/Exit doors so the horde didn't follow them out into the streets.</s> <\|message\|>Beth Callahan. On instinct Beth flickered in and out of tangibility to avoid the swipe of a blade and in an attempt to seize hold of the vampire girl again. The first proved successful, but the girl managed to slip away before Beth could solidify her hand, and sped off down the street via the rooftops. Beth's hand slammed against the brick wall; she felt only an opposing force. Her speed was nothing compared to a vampire, even one so young, and the farther she went from the club, the less she knew of her allies' fate. But with so many of them busy, and their mission still fruitless, she took chase alongside the hunter. Unlike Gray, she knew the layout of this town so well she could draw a better map than Google if she wanted. She dashed through alleys and office blocks, taking as many natural and supernatural shortcuts as she was privy to, until she caught sight of the vampire once again. The long line of buildings came short there; this was their best opportunity. Beth scanned the street around her for something useful and, finding only trash cans, garbage and broken pieces of glass, sent it all flying towards the vampire. The trash cans went first, a trail of garbage left in the air. She applied as much telekinetic force to the throw that she hoped it would knock the bitch off her feet. The glass went next, and Beth aimed low. Vampires endured the worst but she only hoped to subdue the girl. "If you have anything useful in that bag of yours, now is the time!" she shouted across the alley to Gray. It would take the both of them, and perhaps another if anyone had bothered to follow them, to take and keep the vampire down. She spared him a brief look, and began to consider throwing him onto the roof. The idea was too good to waste time debating. Beth manipulated the energies around Gray, picked him up of the ground as a means of warning him, before tossing him onto the roof in front of the vampire. It would be a rocky landing, but she got him there.</s> <\|message\|>Karram Sylian Could any aspect of this mission go as planned? The thought made Karram's head ache like before. The winged angel version of Parael was flying around wielding god knows what kind of mystical blade, Flint and Tony were down for the count, and now the vampire hostage was on the run. Karram wanted to face-palm but felt it better to tag along with Beth and Gray as they pursued their desired target. The vampire was skilled and experienced. But Karram calculated that the three of them together would be enough to capture her, so long as no additional surprises sprang out of nowhere. Karram watched as Beth manipulated trash cans and bottles and glass pieces, hurling them at the roof runner with great precision. Then she yelled at Gray and sent him flying onto a rooftop nearer to their target. "I'll back him up!" Karram spread his ethereal wings and zipped past Beth heading upward to assist Gray as he landed. By darting to the vampire's rear, he and Gray would have her flanked. As he flew, he drew his dagger and prepared to throw it to the side of the vamp's feet to hopefully halt her from changing course. With that, he reached the target and aimed the dagger at her feet. He stopped on a dime, hovering a few feet back from her. Karram noted a nearby tree on the street corner at the end of the rooftop. Could be a useful tactic if she attempts to run again... he thought to himself before turning his attention back to the female vampire. His sword was drawn still and he wore a determined expression as he stared at her back. "Why don't you stop running, okay?" Karram could see Gray was still holding onto the mystery bag of goodies. Hopefully something in there was strong enough to put their vampire friend here down for a bit. If not, Karram may have to delve into his repertoire of sleep-inducing magic and see if that works.</s>	<\|message\|>Kaori Lyle Kaori had sprinted from rooftop to rooftop gracefully, like a bird soaring in the air. The darkly colored silk robe she wore trailed behind her in the night like a cape, its floral design catching the glint of moonlight every so often. She gained speed as she went, skipping and leaping over the gaps between buildings until she finally came to the end of the block. She stopped short of the ledge. Looking across the street to the next rooftop, she knew she was unlikely to make a jump that far. It would be foolish to attempt it, and would likely slow her down even more if she tumbled and broke a leg. It would heal, but she didn't have time to wait. The sound of foot-steps and bated breath alerted her to the pursuit coming up behind her from below. Three pounding heartbeats, she counted. And again, the distinct scent of the hunter who had stolen her prey. Her own pulse pounded in her ears. Long, delicate fingers curled into fists at her sides as she considered the ways she might correct that wrong. Within the medley of noise in her head, she experienced the unsettling feeling of one sound giving out. It was the same sort of sensation that occurred when one side of a pair of headphones stopped working. She refocused to realize that the running steps below had come to halt. Dammit. I have to keep moving. Just as she began to move towards the ledge, considering swinging down and finding an open window into the building, she caught movement in the corner of her eye. Kaori swerved to the side instinctually, narrowly avoiding a trash can and a line of randomized junk that had come flying with it. Her eyes darted to the direction it had come from, catching the slightest glint of light on a number of small shards of glass slicing through the air. She hit the ground. Normally, she might try to deflect it, or outrun it. Glass wouldn't kill her. It would, however, permanently damage the robe that had belonged to her deceased mother. Kaori pressed her hand to the back of her head to protect her long hair as well. Her dark locks had suffered enough damage for the night. She felt the slightest pinch when one shard nicked the back of her hand as it sailed by. She could hear yelling on the street below. She recognized the voice of the plain female, "If you have anything useful in that bag of yours, now is the time!" Kaori stood again, bracing herself for what was to come next. It was a surprise to see the hunter land before her. "You," she hissed. It was difficult to say what Kaori actually felt concerning the hunter. It was an odd sense of predatory obsession. She was only absently aware of the sound of beating wings behind her. With each breath she took, she was reminded of the night she had first encountered the hunter. She had never forgotten that scent. It nearly pushed her to leap from where she stood to tackle him to the ground. But she stayed still. They had her flanked. Her narrowed eyes - an unsettling contrast to the smooth femininity of her features - never left the face of the hunter. She studied him, as if she were trying to read a very dense book. "What do you want with me?" she finally asked. In the back of her mind, she contemplated the ways she might escape. Speed, and the nighttime shadow would be on her side. Yet, her curiosity over this brazen human kept her rooted.</s>
<\|description\|>Kaori Lyle Age: 42 (Appears Early 20's) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire Physical Description: Talents:- Immortality - Enhanced strength and agility - Enhanced Senses - Healing - Experienced with firearms and blades - Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes History:During the Vietnam War, Kaori's father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised. In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family's decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income. In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of 'work' into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her 'change' into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles. Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively. Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence. Psychological Profile:Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn't exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn't opposed to taking a life, she also doesn't murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she's always been a bit of a loner and doesn't confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it's unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty. Possessions:-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother -A small arsenal of firearms -Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent.</s> <\|message\|>Kaori Lyle "We're not in an asking mood..." She was enraged, and yet she almost had to laugh. Don't I feel like a lady. She was completely engaged with the hunter. "Do you honestly believe I would willingly help you against Nemsemet?" She gave an unbelieving shake of her head. Even as she glared at him, her wine-colored eyes carried warm undertones. As if it were the only part of her being that might still be human. Her icy tone was a stark contrast. Each word felt like a bite at the air, "You're incredibly foolish, human. You assault my people, and then you invite me to my own death." She paused, her head tilting as her eyes dipped low for a brief moment, judging his profile. "You don't even know what you're asking," she dismissively stated. And you didn't even say 'please.' Vaguely, she was aware of the presence behind her. She wasn't quite sure the nature of being he was, but she had surprise on her side. This hunter - human - would never be able to match her speed quickly enough to defend himself in a significant way. It was unlikely that she was going to get out of here unscathed, but she might as well enjoy the fight. After all, she was a creature of violence, and she didn't like his attitude. Seconds after the last word left her lips, she kicked off of the rooftop. She sprung from her place so quickly, it was almost a blur. Her body collided with the hunter. All of the concentrated - and complicated - fury she felt towards him exploded from her as she tackled him to the ground with a animalistic snarl. Her attack wasn't coordinated or thought through like her actions of evasion had been. This was purely instinctual. Now that she was close, so close she feel his pulse through his flesh, his scent was intoxicating. It made her lightheaded, but it didn't matter, because she didn't plan to resist the urge to part her lips and bury her teeth into the flesh around his shoulder. With a final draw of his aroma, she did just that, piercing the skin in search of crimson heat.</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover The vampiress had lunged with such speed and ferocity that it was too fast for him to react. She grabbed hold of him and the two tumbled across the roof until she had him pinned. He had lost hold of the bag as they rolled, some of the contents spilling onto the roof. Visible was a long metal spike, a metal bat still half-concealed by the bag, and an aerosol can. A set of fangs pricked his shoulder. It would have been more painful if he weren't already full of adrenaline. Gray moved his left hand quickly to draw the syringe from its place in his front pocket while drawing a Glock with his right, the same arm she was now drinking his lifeblood from. She in her fury smacked the syringe from his hand, pinned his arm and continued to draw from him. It clattered to the side. With his handgun he started to unload the magazine into her abdomen while using the painful opportunity to shove her off of him. Her teeth tore a chunk from his shoulder. She definitely looked more the monster now. He rolled to side to the closest equipment - the bag. What he grabbed was the metal spike. Sure, special wood could kill a vampire. He didn't want to kill her though. He wanted to paralyze her and if the syringe wouldn't work then filling her heart with some cold metal would. If this didn't work he may have to behead her and abandon the information before she leeched more of his life away.</s> <\|message\|>Karram Sylian Karram was surprised to see the vampire lunge for Gray, and even more so that the attempt succeeded in bringing him down. The syringe toppled from his hand along with the bag, but he was all too quick to act. Karram heard several shots fire from within the scuffle before he even had the chance to move. Then, as Karram ran closer grabbing up his dagger, he noticed Gray push her off and grab a metal spike from the bag. Karram rushed over, throwing his dagger accurately into her left thigh before rolling to swiftly pick up the syringe. Sheathing his blade, Karram switched his approach and simply attempted to kick their vampire friend square in the face, with the intention of allowing Gray the opportunity to strike in which Karram could deliver the decisive blow: the concoction contained in the syringe, whatever it may be. Seamless timing would be required, for the vampire's reflexes were definitely faster than theirs. And as usual with this group, the pair didn't really have a well-thought-out plan; but rather a stream of quick glances to signal the conjoined attack. Kick. Metal spike. Syringe. Sleep magic. Detain. And so, Karram and Gray executed their respective moves and hoped for the best. Karram used one hand to deliver the syringe to her arm and the other to gently touch her forehead while mouthing his faerie incantation of sleep. Then he quickly backed off and watched in anticipation for things to kick in, all the while placing a hand on the hilt of Oakbane. If the strange concoction wasn't enough to bring her down for the trip back to the bunker, then Karram's magical touch should act as the final component in finally knocking her out. His magic was not as powerful as some of his more experienced relatives, but it still packed a punch. This has got to work, he thought.</s> <\|message\|>Beth Callahan. Damn them all. Damn every last one of their merry band of revolutionaries. If Parael wasn't already getting a piece of someone's mind, Beth would be sure to deliver it herself. Hell, she might still do it. If everyone had kept to the original plan, the plan they had spent time and energy working out in the midst of dealing with whoever the hell that Autumn woman was and her lapdog, they'd be interrogating this vampire chick. Perhaps even getting somewhere on the Nemsemet front. What sort of threat did this pose to an ancient dread mummy? Instead, Beth stood in a pile of garbage waiting for Karram and the fucking hunter to subdue the aforementioned vampire chick. At least they wouldn't be leaving empty-handed, so long as the boys did their jobs. Beth'd be damned too if she let them go back to the bunker with nothing to show for it. She relied on the clatter of steel and empty thuds to tell her they were still fighting up on the roof. With what shreds remained of her faith in people -- and that came from little itself -- she entrusted them with the task and bolted out of the alley. She ran across the street to the nearest car, a second-hand sort of deal, no one would miss it. Should Gray and Karram succeed in abducting the vampire, the van would be far too crowded, and waiting for the others slowed them down further. Beth sifted through the side of the car and resumed a solid state. Back when she had a body of her own, she wired enough cars to know exactly what she to do when she took apart the steering column. She considered jacking Flint's car once, shortly after she heard a cop started digging into her affairs, and only hours before all the dying nonsense. In a few minutes she had the beat up car running and pulled it into the alley. She shouted up to the roof, "Get a move on!"</s>	<\|message\|>Kaori Lyle Sinking her teeth into the soft tissue of the hunters shoulder was like extending a muscle after sitting still for too long. It was a natural movement, and immensely satisfying. The taste of warm blood on her lips, fresh from the flesh, made her body quiver. Everything about it - the thickness of the fluid, the warmth, the rich flavor - filled her with euphoria. Her veins ached for it as the taste rolled down the back of her tongue and into her throat. It had been too long, and each time she fed felt that way. She was in constant need, and the brief moments of satisfaction were as electric as intimacy to mortals. Her fingers coiled around the fabric of the hunters shirt. She clung to him as if he were a being endeared to her. A potentially terrifying encounter for him was a strangely intimate and spiritual ritual for a vampire. She was distracted from her bliss when he shifted beneath her. As a mortal, he was terribly slow in her eyes. With split focus, she half-heartedly swatted the needle from his hand as if it were nothing more than a pesky fly. She was too busy with the task at hand to give it much though, too preoccupied with- BOOM. The sound of thunder tore through her mind. The force of it hit her core like a battering ram. It wasn't the first time she had been shot, but it wasn't the sort of thing you ever got used to. She recoiled instinctively, finding herself shoved off of her meal. In her delirium, it took the pain a moment to overtake the ecstasy of the feed. When it did, it came sharply, cutting through her joy like a sharpened blade. She gave a pained and furious cry, her lips and belly dripping with crimson. The gunshot seemed to pop-off a thousand different strikes, attacks suddenly coming from all sides. She sloppily jerked away from an oncoming dagger. It clattered uselessly across the ground. Shakily, she struggled to drag herself to her hands and feet, but abandoned the task to lift her hands to deflect the swift kick that nearly connected with her blood-stained face. She wasn't fast enough to avoid the metal spike. It pierced through her and into her heart, tearing a hole in her shirt and her body. She inhaled a harsh gasp. The pain was so sharp, she didn't notice the prick of her skin when the syringe was injected. She only distantly heard the mumble of strange words, and felt the weight of sleep descend upon her. Her tense, trembling limbs began to soften. Within moments, her bloodied body went limp as her eyes fell shut.</s>
<\|description\|>Kaori Lyle Age: 42 (Appears Early 20's) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire Physical Description: Talents:- Immortality - Enhanced strength and agility - Enhanced Senses - Healing - Experienced with firearms and blades - Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes History:During the Vietnam War, Kaori's father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised. In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family's decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income. In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of 'work' into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her 'change' into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles. Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively. Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence. Psychological Profile:Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn't exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn't opposed to taking a life, she also doesn't murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she's always been a bit of a loner and doesn't confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it's unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty. Possessions:-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother -A small arsenal of firearms -Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent.</s> <\|message\|>Arachne (Assumed name: Autumn Weltich) Since everyone got back they were all pretty on edge. Perry got an ear full but somehow it didn't seem enough. Arachne was not always a forgiving creature and something as botched as their last venture would spell major punishment at her company. But this wasn't her company so she held off and left it to the others. Maybe later. It was brought up that there was no kind of command at all and that they were just going about things all wrong. No kidding, she could tell that at the beginning. She had been lightly directing things before it all went South. However she doubted any of them trusted her enough to even bother bringing it up. Turning to Gray she looked at the room. "Probably best if one other person joins you, just in case." She moves her attention to to the group again. Oddly enough the only other person she'd seen that has a head on straight was the one that pointed out the problem. Nodding to herself she spoke up. "What about you? When things were falling apart you took it upon yourself to get everyone out. You didn't panic or lose it in a fight. So I think you would be a good candidate."</s> <\|message\|>Antonio Victor Barnes Tony shook his head, "No way on me. As soon as it gets intense, there's not much more than instinct to work off of. I can talk about things and plan things here, in a controlled and safe environment, but I am not someone you can look to for good judgment in the middle of a fight. That's not how it works." Sure, Tony had a background, but it was a day to day thing, an office and dealing with people within the confines of civilization. In a fight, when the blood was up, lycanthropes were as fast, strong and resilient as anything, just about, but their instincts took over, their primal nature brought to the fore, muting the intelligence of the human. It was a form in flux and enraged, and not even able to properly speak more than a couple words -- and he'd never bothered to try. But he knew his own limitations; he'd learned them a while ago in deciding how to stay fundamentally out of the society of the Courts and the parallel city of the supernatural and preferred to stay in the mortal world, doing mortal work and forking over a tithe to de Lacy so he could be left alone and in peace. Nemsemet put an end to it and dragged him into this world against his will, forcing him to face things he didn't want to face. He didn't like shaving in the mirror and thinking of the thing inside him that cut loose in some swampy jungle, killing, perhaps eating, people indiscriminately, operating off pure instinct. He already wasn't liking the idea that he might harm someone he knew or didn't want to harm in this situation, and it's why he advocated not going anywhere near the Steak Knife, but picking off a lone vampire instead.</s> <\|message\|>Flint White Flint sat on a fold out chair, he had changed a few moments before into a white shirt and pants, as the others had been resting. He listened to the conversation but preferred to stay out of it, cradling a bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He took turns with each, breathing in the smoke then taking a swig of whiskey. He eventually spoke up "I don't care who is the leader, as long as I don't have to call them sir and do a pirouette every time they ask, like those bastards in command in 1917. Im telling ya, give a man a badge and he thinks he owns the place, why I ought to hae given him a thing or two. Course I couldn't or I would have been reprimanded and at that point I didn't even know I could shoot fireballs or whatever. Anyway in that trench my buddies used to…" Flint began to ramble on about some story of taking a German trench, a few racial slurs where mixed in here and there and most people would find it best to ignore him. A hundred years of information does a lot on the human brain.</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir Tony was Rikive's first choice as well, but he pointed out why he wouldn't make a great leader in the thick of a fight. Unfortunately she had to agree, berserkers were great for breaking enemy lines but for leadership roles? Not so much. Beth mentioned Flint and she supposed he would make-and he was drunkenly rambling about some war in 1917. Right, he was out as well. Rikive was mulling over the other's and what she knew of them, when she realized Autumn was talking to her. "What, me?" She asked, blinking in surprise that someone was considering her for the position. Because she had kept calm in the throws of a battle? Many of the other's had kept level heads as well. She suppose, she did come from a culture the prizes fighting above all else. She did use to spend some time in her grandfather's hall, filled with all the great fallen warriors. But...Did that qualify her to actually lead anyone? She frowned in thought, comparing herself to other viable candidates. "I...suppose?" She responded with a small shrug, not sure what to say. She had never been put in this position before. "The final say falls to the group though." She said, making a small motion with her hand to everyone else in the room. "If they agree then, I will step forward to lead."</s> <\|message\|>Karram Sylian Karram had enjoyed the ride to the bunker. It was the first peaceful experience he'd had since joining this band of supernaturals. But it ended prematurely once they arrived. He and Gray dragged their vampire prisoner inside and Beth tied her to a chair. Then she was stored away for safe keeping, with Gray hungrily wanting to stand guard. However, as Karram returned to the main room, he noted the uncomfortable tension in the air and heard talk of needed leadership. And of course he agreed, but the question was more so who it should be to lead them. Mention of the fairy court made Karram's elongated ears perk up. And before he could speak on the matter, the fairy queen was dismissed as distrustful... this made Karram grit his teeth a bit, but he quelled his desire to shout down her throat. Despite his personal history and the misconception towards faerie loyalty, Karram and his people were a very tightly knit group and this went doubly for the Faerie Queen. A couple subtle breaths and Karram was able to return to a state of diplomacy. It was at this time that several name were thrown into the pot, so to speak. Karram pondered the options carefully. Tony was the initial person to gather them all up, and he was a born leader. But like he said, he had moments in which his mental state could be easily compromised. And Flint... well, Flint was an intelligent sorcerer but his general laze and attitude would make for an unfit leader overall. And his near-drunken monologue just proved the point further. But then Rikive was nominated by Autumn. Karram's brow lifted slightly at the thought; she had just dissed his Queen, but her battle prowess, experience and courage were definitely qualities that fit the bill. "I vote Rikive. She has a good balance of qualities that make her as perfect a candidate as we're going to get in this team. And obviously she doesn't have to go it alone; she can make the decisions and organize and command our 'ranks', but delegate duties she cannot fulfill to those in the group who better fit the scenario. And for the record," he darted a stern look at Rikive, "My Queen is not untrustworthy." Karram felt better getting that last part off his chest. It may have been an awkward summation to make after his more than diplomatic speech on behalf of the very person that mentioned his queen, but he shrugged off the thought and turned to check on the vampire once more. His demeanor had once again changed back to carefree. He waved back at the group as he headed for the vamp, "But obviously I'm not the only vote that counts."</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover Gray didn't take his gaze off of the prone figure. "Alright August. We'll do it that way." He leaned forward to look at her closer. To an untrained personage this vampire looked quite dead but if a vampire never moved they would be mistaken for a corpse because they were. The hunter took a steady grip on the spike and on their captive's left shoulder and began tugging. The puckering wound issued out globs of dark blood as the spike was carefully removed. The air was permeated by the sick sound of a pressurized wound letting air in. Discarding the stained piece of metal into the hallway he noted Karram was coming. "Hey. If you're joining us I'd suggest staying at the door. We don't need everyone in here but we just might need your help in a moment." Gray turned back to their guest and addressed both August and Karram. "She'll be stirring soon." Finally he took a seat, rubbing his shoulder absentmindedly.</s>	<\|message\|>Kaori Lyle In her sleep, Kaori didn't exactly dream, but rather reflected. The vision that came to her took her back to the modest home of her human life. Through those eyes, the world had been so much dimmer, and so unclear. She couldn't focus on more than one sight at a time. It felt like she had cotton in her ears when she couldn't discern the sounds from the next room, or count the number of heartbeats in the small building. She felt horribly weak. Slowly - so slowly - she rotated where she stood in the small, plain kitchen that had belonged to her mortal family. The little room, with its sad implications of poverty, felt as if it had a chokehold around her throat, suffocating her. It was strange, the feeling of suffocation after not needing air for so many years. Through her muffled ears, she heard the sound of footsteps behind her, and the kind, affectionate calling of her name, "Kaori?" Her frail body softened at the tone, reacting from a place of emotion. Why? She turned towards the voice that sung out from the doorway only a few feet from where she stood. In the voice's body, she recognized pieces of herself. Like a puzzle of a self-portriat that had been put together slightly inaccurately. The body was too short, and a little more wrinkled than she. But somewhere in those pieces, she recognized the smooth slope of her own cheeks, and the dark, comfortable depth of her eyes that had never quite gone away. "Mom," she breathed, shattering the cold resolve of her new life to experience, for a rare moment, the painful warmth of human longing. ---- Her dark lashes trembled, and then slowly blinked apart. It was the first movement she made, and the only other sign of life was the enrichment of her pale skin tone when her blood began to pump. She didn't gasp for the air the way they did in the movies. She didn't need air. The vampire's keen eyes opened to a dank space. She could feel the dust particles on her skin, and as she took her first breath, she could smell it in the air. She rolled her head from where it had been resting against the wall to look ahead, finding the room littered with random chairs, one of which held the hunter. Her eyes narrowed a bit. It was partially a look of distaste for him, but mostly an expression of confusion. The room was unfamiliar, and the last she could remember of the hunter was draining his blood on the rooftop. She ran the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip where the blood had since dried. How long had it been? When she tried to sit up, she winced at the still-closing chest wound. Her stomach had healed since taking a gut-full of lead. Between the two injuries, her shirt had been torn to near-rags, and was covered in dried and fresh pools of blood. She took a glance at the decorative robe that hung from her shoulders. It had survived the encounter in one piece with only a few bloodspots. She shifted a bit in her bounds, looking around the room warily, like a wounded animal. For a vampire, she was weakened. She might still be capable of holding her own against an inexperienced mortal, but it was unlikely that she would be breaking out of this room full of supernatural beings in her current state. Finally, she closed back in on the hunter, "Where...am I?" she weakly managed. Out of the heat of battle, her voice was surprisingly and distinctly feminine.</s>
<\|description\|>Kaori Lyle Age: 42 (Appears Early 20's) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire Physical Description: Talents:- Immortality - Enhanced strength and agility - Enhanced Senses - Healing - Experienced with firearms and blades - Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes History:During the Vietnam War, Kaori's father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised. In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family's decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income. In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of 'work' into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her 'change' into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles. Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively. Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence. Psychological Profile:Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn't exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn't opposed to taking a life, she also doesn't murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she's always been a bit of a loner and doesn't confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it's unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty. Possessions:-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother -A small arsenal of firearms -Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent.</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir So, I'm a leader now. Rikive thought to herself, standing up from where she sat and watched a few of the other's head into the room to 'question' the vampire. She as confident they would be able to take care it while she rested before their next move. Walking to the room where her sword and cot were, she considered the idea of approaching the Fairy Queen. She said that she didn't trust her, but she hadn't completely dismissed the idea. Despite Karram's loyalty and protest, Rikive still doubted the Queen's trustworthiness. She had met her once and the encounter had...gone less then well, to say the least. The Queen of Fairies seemed prone to flights of fancy and other such whims. One day she may agree to help them, but the next she could bury a knife in their backs and turn them over to Nemsemet. Or she could be allies with Nemsemet already and trying to go to her would result in their destruction. It was true that de Lacy hadn't been able to control the Fairy Court, but Nemsemet clearly didn't operate like de Lacy. Would the benefits of an alliance outweigh the risks though? The kind of magic Fairies held was nothing to scoff at and would be immensely beneficial. But it was also why she was so wary. The Queen certainly wouldn't help them for free either. She could hear two sets of conversation inside of the bunker, one was the interrogation of the vampire and the other sounded like it was between Flint and Parael. The conversations overlapped, making it hard for her to distinguish what was being said other than a few key words here and there. It sounded like Parael was telling Flint about his true nature as a Celestial. Nothing overtly concerning, but Parael's tone sounded off. Not surprising, she knew how Parael felt about his...retirement. Frowning, she wondered how he was handling having his wings back. She hadn't had much of a chance to talk to him about everything that happened. Check on her friend and then she would lay down for a few hours. Rikive blinked when Flint emerged from the bathroom in front of her, flask in hand and she wanted to shake her head. She let him pass before walking up to the door and standing next to it, not wanting to go inside out of respect for Parael's privacy. "Parael? Are you alright?" She asked, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe.</s> <\|message\|>Parael Magnus Parry sat himself down on the toilet, hugging himself, trying to get the feeling out of his stomach. Whoever was toying with his sword was definitely passing it between one person and another. Two sets of memories were flooding through to him- equally brutal, equally depraved. And every time someone touched that sword, it was like they were touching him- grabbing him. Possessing him. A Celestial's sword was a powerful thing. When Parry was formed, his sword was formed with him. It was equal parts weapon, conduit and symbol of office. It didn't grant the power to completely control Parry, mindfucking him into a killing machine that murdered everyone in the bunker or gave away their location. But just touching that sword allowed whoever had it to reach into the core of his being, that font of the Nether he called his soul, the most intimate of places, and he would know they were there. So when Rikive showed up, waiting for an answer, he was absolutely torn in two about what to say. There were no secrets between them. Rikive had bailed him out more than once in the past few months alone, and Parry had done the same. She alone knew what he was from the beginning. At the same time, he'd already fucked up once. Hard. There was absolutely no way to call it anything else. That the enemy had his sword and potentially had power over him was a sobering thought. The blade was passed back to the woman. The summoner. That demon-tainted spirit touched him again, brushed at his center, and that forced him to make a decision. "No, I'm not," Parry said, his voice breaking a little bit as he spoke. One hand reached up to his bare chest, still smelling of melon soap, while his eyes grew red and watery. "I think... I think the Mummy has my sword."</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir Rikive's eyes widened hearing his voice break, hearing the pain in it, just as much as the words. So the sword that she saw Parael use wasn't his. Nemsemet had Parael's real sword? This was bad, this was very bad. She took in a deep breath, collecting herself so she appeared calm and opened the bathroom door, stepping inside. Seeing Parael scared and on the verge of tears made her heart ache. She walked over to him and crouched down next to him. She reached out and gripped his hand, squeezing it gently yet firmly. She couldn't lie to him and tell him everything would be okay. It wasn't okay. If the enemy had Parael's sword, they had him over a barrel. "We'll get it back." She promised him, looking up at him and smiling as best she could. She hoped they could get it back before anything was done to Parael, but she wasn't sure. If at this very moment Nemsemet or one of the people that served him had it in their possession...They might already be too late. "I'll get it back." Rikive promised a bit more firmly, squeezing his hand. "You're my brother Parael. I'm right here with you and I'll do whatever I can to help you."</s> <\|message\|>Parael Magnus "I'm sorry," Parry said, finally breaking down when Rikive took his hand. "I keep fucking up. I'm not... I'm impossible. I'm not pulling my weight. Getting in everyone else's way. I'm just-" 'Over a barrel' wasn't the most pleasant phrase, but it was exactly how Parry felt right now. He'd tried some freaky shit in the past 500 years (and an awful lot in the last 500 days) but it was always consensual and fun. Right now he could only wait and hope that whoever had his sword wasn't sure what it could do or how they might use it. Truthfully, the blade was just a blade in any mortal's hands. Dangerous and impossibly sharp for something that looked like it'd been dug up in an archaeological dig. Still deadly. Any hope of that happening, of someone being completely unaware of what they held ran out the window and into another zip code as he felt that dark touch at his core retract, just like it had when passed between the two dark forces, but quickly exploded outward into his veins, up his muscles, down to the tips of his toes and the length of his hair. Not an attack spell or a curse. A probe. Whoever had his sword was sweeping through him and would know for a fact what he was. Where he was? Probably not. Magic was powerful but it didn't hold a candle to GPS. Still, Parry forced himself to shut his eyes in case whoever was "scanning" him could see through him. "Riki, I need you to go," he all but yelled. "I need you to leave. I want you to stay- I do- but if you want to be safe, you need to go now!" Any wards Parry might put on himself were useless so long as Nemsemet had the Dawn Blade. He was over a barrel. And the enemy had an open door to him.</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir Rikive shot up to her feet when Parael curled in on himself as though he was in pain and started yelling at her. Something was happening, damn the heavenly realms! Someone was doing something to Parael's sword. Panic rushed through her, not sure what Parael meant by her needing to leave for her own safety. "What's wrong?" She asked him, grabbing onto his shoulders. "Nevermind my safety, you're the one under attack! Please, tell me what's happening Parael. What in the Nine worlds are they doing to you?" Why couldn't she have inherited better magical skills from her mother? If she had better developed magic, maybe she could have battled against whatever was happening to her friend. A human and a Light Elf have a halfling child and that mortal could wield magic and cast spells on par with their supernatural parent. They were some of the most powerful mages to walk the Earth. Yet she was the offspring of a damned God and a Light Elf and the only magic she could cast was to heal bodily injuries. Even then there was a limit and it could be a drain on her. She had never felt so frustrated with her lack of magic until now, when her friend, someone she thought of as a brother, was clearly suffering in front of her and she couldn't do a thing to stop it. It brought forth the fresh memory of watching Parael die under her hands. She could almost feel the warm, slick substance of his blood on her hands again. She caught herself before she tightened her grip on Parael and took in a deep breath. She may not have magic, but she did have her strength. She had Winterthorn. There was magic in that stubborn, dusty old blade, she knew there was. She was going to unlock it if it was the last thing she did.</s>	<\|message\|>Kaori Lyle It was always an unusual experience when a vampire's prey was left standing. When they died, it was simple. They ceased to be, and all of their life became your own. However, when they lived on, the connection between a vampire and her prey could become...complex. On occasion, downright supernatural. It all depended on the strength of the individual bond. There would often be some sort of emotional connection, or fixation that spawned out of the personal feelings of the vampire herself. A mild attraction to a prey could become full-blown infatuation. Such situations usually ended in destruction. For Kaori, the ugly mass of feelings she harbored toward the hunter took on a new edge. She now had a keen sense for him. His scent, even more prominent than before, could slice through a room of heated mortals like a beacon. His action spurred her to reaction, stoked the vicious flame of her emotion in an antagonistic way. So when he condescendingly addressed her as "little lady," it was all she could do not to leap across the room and rip his throat out. These connections, after all, were not typically positive. "Gray Conover," she repeated. The name rolled across her tongue like an ocean wave, smooth and powerfully possessive, "I've always tried not to name my food." That last line seemed a little too taunting to be delivered in such a pleasing voice. It contrasted in a rather disturbing way. She couldn't help herself. He had recently become the favored mouse to her cat. "This city doesn't need a mortal to save it, especially one that doesn't know what he's dealing with," there was nothing teasing about that statement. It was painfully obvious in her red-wine eyes. She gave a small, weary shake of her head against the wall as her eyes flitted towards the hallway where footsteps sounded ahead of not-so-distant conversation. "Don't you realize your own people don't even trust you?" she said, referencing to the comment Beth had made about her interrogation to the group in the other room. "Why would I trust you with my name?" By now, the dank room was full of varying supernatural beings. She shifted uneasily under the weight of so many eyes. She felt trapped, as they had intended her to be. Whatever concoction they had injected her with still lingered in her system with an oppressive grip. Slowly, she was healing, with her strength gradually returning. But for now, she was cornered, bound with her back to the wall. Even if she could break the rope in her weakened state, where would she go from there? In her scheming, she inhaled the room around her, trying to get an idea of who she was dealing with. Her body instinctually tensed at the scent of lycan, her smooth features wrinkling in distaste, "I didn't realize you kept a house-cat," she dryly remarked. To her, it was akin to the unpleasant smell of wet dog.</s>
<\|description\|>Kaori Lyle Age: 42 (Appears Early 20's) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire Physical Description: Talents:- Immortality - Enhanced strength and agility - Enhanced Senses - Healing - Experienced with firearms and blades - Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes History:During the Vietnam War, Kaori's father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised. In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family's decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income. In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of 'work' into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her 'change' into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles. Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively. Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence. Psychological Profile:Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn't exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn't opposed to taking a life, she also doesn't murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she's always been a bit of a loner and doesn't confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it's unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty. Possessions:-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother -A small arsenal of firearms -Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent.</s> <\|message\|>Kaori Lyle Once the discussion had finally fell silent, Kaori lowered her eyes, contemplating. Voices had come at her from each side. Minus a few threats that she didn't respond well to, she couldn't deny the logic of the arguments that came from Gray, the nameless brunette, and the one whom she had come to identify as the lycan. Well, all but that last bit he had so cattily thrown in. Immediately, she wanted to disregard the lycan, with his fowl breath and wild animal smell. But, she had to admit that such thoughts pertaining to the fate of the supernaturals had occurred to her in the past. Were they doomed under Nemsemet's leadership? Of course. She had known this from the beginning. He would lead the city of supernaturals to their destruction. She had laid low in the wake of his terror, unwilling to accept their fate, but knowing it was inevitable. No one would be foolish enough to oppose him, would they? And here was a group of random beings thrown together, stepping on each others toes, trying to find a way. She took a breath, preparing to speak, not completely sure of what was going to come out when she heard a distant voice in the silence. "...they know what they have. Charles Gordon knows what he has." Charles Gordon. She seemed to turn inside herself as she weighed the implications of that name. It had been a long time since she'd heard it. "You kicked the hornets nest," she finally mumbled in that youthful, soprano voice. "Fine. If I decide to help you, we have to agree on a few things." She stood to her feet here, surprisingly graceful for someone with her hands tied behind her back. The wound in her chest, though sore, had finally stopped bleeding. Her arms tensed, and in the next moments there was a stretch, and then the snap of rope behind her back. She brought her arms to the front of her body, casually rubbing at the spot where her pale flesh had been reddened by her bounds. "First of all, if you want my help, stop threatening me. It's putting me in a really foul mood, and I already don't like most of you." Her eyes shifted to the direction of the lycan and rolled away in irritation, "Second, you don't ask for my name. I can't be sure that anyone knows I'm here right now, and I don't want to be on their hit-list if and when this thing goes south. And finally..." She gave a quick glance over her attire with a wearied sigh, bloodied and torn from battle with these beasts, "You let me shower." She paused, placing her hands on her hips and looking over the pairs of eyes that were staring back at her, "Agreed?"</s> <\|message\|>Parael Magnus Parry gave Rikive a hug back, steadying his breathing as best he could after that burst of memory from Charles Gordon. It was quickly apparent to him that any memories he could hit Charles with, Charles packed an equal punch to throw back with the caveat that the vampiric sociopath didn't give a flying shit about. Parry could show him the extinction of a dozen cities and it would be no skin off that man's nose. Meanwhile, Parry would have to sit there and take it if Charles decided to send any more delightful memories through the sword. After Rikive left, Parry took a second to gather up his emotions and thoughts, along with his clothes. The absence of Charles' tainted fingers on his sword didn't change the fact that Parry felt his soul was forever dirtied by it. Sooner or later, Charles or his associate would lay hands on the sword again and the feeling would return. Parry would have to live with it. Just like he would have to live with whatever they did with the weapon. Like that image he had of the sword- his sword- slicing through Billy Rikker's spine like a knife through water. When he followed Rikive down the hall of the bunker and into the "interrogation room" where their vampire was being held, Parry had his hair in a ponytail, his skin still scrubbed red and smelling of expensive melon soap, and his jeans and Gucci shirt were horribly damp. "Shower's free," he said to the vampire. "And news flash to the group. Charles Gordon used my personal sword to kill Billy Rikker. Whoever the fuck Charles Gordon is."</s> <\|message\|>Beth Callahan. Beth rolled her eyes again. "Yes, I agree, why don't you just leave?" she replied, visibly sizing up the hunter. In spite of his help in capturing the vampire, Beth would feel infinitely more comfortable without him present. The man vanquished people like each of those in the bunker on the regular, and beside that, she did not appreciate his attitude. "We're not savages," she said, straightening her back. "We can keep this from the outside eye. You certainly aren't going to do a better job." She shook her head and turned to the vampire. "Can you believe him?" Circling the room at a languid pace, she continued her observations of its inhabitants. She held herself in check, and such a thing took strength, when Autumn spoke. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm already dead," would not be met well, and nor would it help their cause. So Beth kept quiet, even when Flint returned; she could trust Tony to say what she was thinking. And just as their captive seemed ready to cooperate, the girl changed. Her stature altered in the slightest of manners, in a way only someone paying close attention would notice. It was a quarter inch movement of the shoulders, or a tilt of the head just so. Beth lifted her head a fraction when the sound of strong, determined footfalls carried through the bunker. Reluctantly, she pulled her eyes away from the vampire upon hearing her name. She gave the Asgardian a nod, then slowly followed her into the hall. Even as she walked some few feet from the doorway, she could hear the vampire's words. For a moment, a small smile played on the ghost's ethereal face. The girl positively vibrated with information... and a quiet tenacity Beth respected. She regarded Rikive, but before she could question anything, Parael sailed by them and into the room. His voice was clear when he spoke, very little trace of the screaming they'd heard earlier, and so the name reached her in full. Charles Gordon. The name set in motion a visceral recollection of shared memories that left her feeling defiled, in the same way someone marching on her grave might. The hive-mind of memories among the undead opened itself to individuals without prompting and whenever it pleased, and Beth had yet to meet any ghost with the ability to choose what they saw. She picked up the nauseating scene of a massacre of Cheyenne hundreds of years ago, where Charles Gordon fought and killed under another's command, a long time ago in conversation with an old ghost who provided her with the odd lesson on burials and ancient magic. Experiencing it again worsened the feeling. "He's at least two hundred years old," she announced, standing in the doorway. "And experienced in war. He fought to kill Native Americans, one battle I can verify, the rest, I'm guessing he didn't join in just for the one go at it." She crossed her arms, frowning. "Anyone else like to share?"</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover "For the record; I haven't threatened you since you woke up." Gray smirked at their suddenly privileged guest. "Yes, I agree, why don't you just leave?" Beth suggest. "Yeah I think I will." Gray responded. His eyes narrowed in a scowl at the ghost. For someone with a weight lighter than air she certainly liked to throw it around. A heavy sigh escaped his mask as he left the room. He stayed just long enough to catch what the vampire shared. What was the point? In this zoo Gray felt like the star attraction because he was simply human. At the lone room in the end of the hall he took a seat on a crate. This was one of the store rooms and was just as good as any other unoccupied room to fume in. Sleeping here would be dangerous. The vampire that had just tried to eat him only hours earlier would now be walking around. Gray leaned back against the wall and yawned. The sun would be up really soon. It would be a good time to take Beth's suggestion and do something while everyone else did what they always did so well. Hide.</s>	<\|message\|>Kaori Lyle Kaori observed the banter between the hunter and the ghostly girl with mild amusement. "For the record; I haven't threatened you since you woke up," Gray directed at her from behind the oddly comical mask. She didn't need to see his face to know he was probably smirking, she could sense that in his voice. The faintest trace of a smile crept onto her pink lips. This chase would be thrilling. It would be a shame when it came to a close, and the hunter's life ended. Briefly, she fantasized about the possibility of savoring his life, keeping him in her service. Something about that picture seemed wrong, though. She had never been a fan of the mindless company of thralls. Would his blood taste as sweet if he couldn't defend himself? No, his life would come to a dramatic, climax of an ending, and it would be all the more satisfying because of its ferocity. Beth's words pulled her from her daydream like a bucket of ice water, "Can you believe him?" Something about her opposition to Gray sparked a flame of possessiveness in Kaori – an animal protective of its kill. She took the words "Shower's free," as the groups concession to her conditions. Rather than dwell here, and divulge sensitive information to a risky, rag-tag group of desperate supernatural beings, Kaori wanted to sprint from the room in the direction of the shower. She was a lone-wolf by nature. It was natural to prefer her privacy as she recovered. The cleansing touch of water would wash away the red soaked into her skin and matted in her midnight hair. She would be strong and radiant when she emerged, her most comfortable state. But instead, she resigned to her task when Beth piped up again, "Anyone else like to share?" Kaori looked out into many a pair of eyes that watched her expectantly, as if she were a goose about to lay a golden egg. She perched on the edge of a small table near the corner of the room, her leather-clad legs crossing one over the other. She didn't want to display it, but she was still feeling rather weak, and the breaking of her bounds had cost more of her energy than she cared to let on. "If Rikker died at the hands of Charles Gordon, I'm afraid your problems have multiplied," she began. She felt as if she were a teacher in the midst of a group of children, eager for their story. She continued, "From what I've heard, he used to be pretty notorious for his duels. It's an old fashioned tradition, no one really gets involved except for old vampires with a sense of 'honor' or something, but Gordon's were especially ugly. I've personally never met him - he's probably closer to the three times my age - but from what I've heard, he's ruthless in a way that makes Rikker look like a kitten." She paused, considering for a moment, "Rikker was...sloppy as a leader. Too distracted with profit. Gordon is a military man. Imagine if you took the raw power of a vampire and organized them, made them into soldiers. That's what you'll be dealing with if Charles Gordon is involved. Plus, he knows you're coming." Casually, she lifted a hand to touch the shaft of her long hair, assessing the mess of blood that had caked some of the locks together. She was desperate for that shower. "I may have some information that could help you even the playing field...there's a storehouse in the city that de Lacy used to keep heavily guarded. I can't say for sure what's inside, but whatever it is must be either extremely valuable or lethal. With the recent power change, I'm guessing no one's claimed it yet." She looked up at the group expectantly, "I can take you there, if we're all clear about my terms?" she pressed, making it clear that she wanted their explicit agreement.</s>
<\|description\|>Kaori Lyle Age: 42 (Appears Early 20's) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire Physical Description: Talents:- Immortality - Enhanced strength and agility - Enhanced Senses - Healing - Experienced with firearms and blades - Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes History:During the Vietnam War, Kaori's father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised. In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family's decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income. In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of 'work' into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her 'change' into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles. Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively. Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence. Psychological Profile:Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn't exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn't opposed to taking a life, she also doesn't murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she's always been a bit of a loner and doesn't confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it's unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty. Possessions:-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother -A small arsenal of firearms -Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent.</s> <\|message\|>Parael Magnus Murdering Native Americans. A guy who loves to strut his stuff as a soldier. Generally cold, all business, and ready to pounce on a goon who didn't salute promptly? Definitely sounded like the kind of guy who had his grubby palms all over Parry's sword. "Well, the good news is he can't really use my sword to do anything crazy- like blow up the sun or enslave the human race. It's, like, fingerprint locked to me, so he's just got a really, really, really sharp sword." Parry nodded at Exie. "I think we should go for the spooky warehouse that may-or-may-not be a trap meant to kill us all. Not that my vote counts for anything. Unless our dear leader has any other ideas?" Parry waited for Rikive to speak- either assenting or changing the plan. He'd follow the Norse demi-goddess to Hel and back with no complaints, if they could get to Hel from this city.</s> <\|message\|>Antonio Victor Barnes Gordon was, like many vampires, uncomfortable watching magicians work their trade, and that never quite went away, especially as he paused to appreciate the potentials of magic users in the form of Anastasia Petrova, who was as ruthless and cunning as they came. She was creative and solution-oriented. At first glance, a vampire had considerable advantages and retained them in a surprise encounter. Speed, strength, ability to heal. However, a truly skilled sorceress, like Anastasia Petrova was, had the power to tap into the universe's underlying forces in a way that couldn't be explained, but the engineer in him appreciated that it was a force to be manipulated and that Anastasia sought to understand the rules so as to use them to her advantage. Given preparation, she could overcome the likes of Gordon. Some magicians were fire-slinging thugs, engines of destruction, but it was the subtle ones that exploited connections and figured out how to use magic to get around obstacles that gave Gordon cause for disquiet. For example, a thing with a connection to another thing, in the magical sense, could have that connection exploited. Which was why the sword sat in the middle of a circle along with other things they'd gleaned from Parael's visions -- the trappings of things childlike that they'd dug up, like a child's book, a diaper, Torah scrolls, his name and the word 'nephilim' written in the original Hebrew around the circle in the blood of a lamb, that being very much a biblical link -- the blood had power. Petrova was not necessarily a scholar of these things, but Gordon grew up with a degree of interest in the classics and was a connoisseur of the Old Testament, so he supplied some of the necessary flourishes to Petrova. She was working her chant, the old girl in the young body, wrapped in a red, pure linen, that being another connection to the Bible, moved about in a loosely flowing dance that built up a charge through the room, the feeling of humming that penetrated the marble floor and the columns of her chamber. The candles flickered though there was no wind to disrupt them that Gordon could feel as the circle became a battery, and the sword became a focus lens. As she moved in that agile, flowing way of hers, finely muscled calves and then some displayed in her attire, he reflected that as a mortal man, he might be drawn to the finely couture'd Parisian look that Anastasia favored; the eyes were perhaps a bit too unsettling, though, wise old eyes, hard and predatory, staring out from a haughty nose with a high brow and a mouth that could go stern very quickly. Much as she tried to affect the pose of a carefree, glamorous girl, she'd never be quite that. Too much blood under the fingernails, much like his sire. Had she not been a wizard and no doubt created precautions against him before he walked in, as he called ahead to announce himself, he might have been tempted to feed upon her then and there; he liked to hunt the dangerous game, after all. But right now, there was more afoot than merely the pleasure of feeding. With a shudder that he could perceive but not necessarily feel -- certainly not the way Anastasia Petrova did when she cried out her last syllable in the chant and threw herself in the air, as if providing a mighty momentum to something heavy -- the ritual was over, the candles were out and the sorceress was slumped. But she was smiling in that way of hers as she gathered herself up regally and informed Gordon, "It is done."</s> <\|message\|>Parael Magnus Parry was stepping out of the way for Kaori to head to the showers when it happened. One minute he had both feet planted firmly on the floor- the next he was suspended about an inch above the ground. He did a quick double take on the wings to see if Cym's were acting up and giving him trouble. Nope. No wings. And when he tried to move his arms to grab on to the door, he found he had about an inch of space before they were pulled back into a position at his sides. His legs, likewise, had no room to move. "Guys..." he whispered, hovering in place as the bonds tightened. "I fink we have a pwobwem." The sounds of chanting in old Hebrew echoed in Parry's brain as his eyes rolled back in his skull. Somewhere far away, he felt his sword- his own weapon- being acted on by forces beyond his control. Gordon and his other minion. Playing at something. Getting inside his core being, manipulating him through the blade. He knew a few things about human magic, and Gordon didn't have the power to kill him with just the sword by itself. Nor could he use it to trace Parry back to his current location- at best he'd get "somewhere on the East Side" as a result of that spell. Which begged the question- what was Gordon playing at? The contractions, when they started, wracked through every bone of Parry's body and seized his muscles in one massive charlie horse- the metaphysical bonds that held him suspended heated up, bright red circles forming on his wrists, ankles and one around his neck. The squeezing seized him from every side at once- left, right, up, down, and even from within- in heaving fits. Before the eyes of everyone present, Parry shrank by a whole foot. "Guys!" Another massive charlie horse, bones crunching and grinding as they warped into smaller versions of themselves. Another foot. Parry was left swimming in his jeans, his body less lean and defined- down to the size and height of a pre-teen. His eyes wide as saucers as Parry realized just what she was doing. If your enemy has a nuclear bomb, you don't just try to beat him with another nuke. You take away his nuke. At this size, Parry wouldn't be able to do much more than lift Cym's sword. The wings would be too bulky to manifest on Parry's body as well. "Gordon can't take my powers, so he's making me so I can't use them!" Another crack, pop, and muscle seizure made him flinch. His body curled up against its bonds, holding on for dear life as he felt the onset of one more massive muscle cramp approaching. "You gotta find mah sword!" The seizure slammed into Parry with all the force of a tidal wave, crashing and warping his body in seconds. Thrown into a whirlpool of magical energy, he finally lost it and actually yelled in pain from the incantation. The yell turned into a cry, which turned into a sob, which turned into a wail. What was left sitting on the floor, arcane bindings still on its wrists, was a child. Roughly two years old, pretty blond hair, and pudgy with baby fat. "Well dat fuckin' shucked!" Parry said after rubbing his eyes, then gaping open mouthed at his own pudgy fingers. "Guys! Gordon made me fat! We's gotta kill him now!"</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir Rikive narrowed her eyes as the vampire divulged her...helpful information. A mysterious warehouse that may have something inside that could help them? This coming from someone they took captive but now wanted to fight on their side? Rikive wasn't buying it for a second. It sounded like too much risk without knowing what the reward would be. Why were they even considering letting the vampire join them? They were just supposed to get information from her then kill her. Now the others were ready to let her into their fold? Rikive still had some doubts about Autumn and Gray, but she was going to draw the line at this. She wasn't going to risk the lives of these people on a hunch from the likes of the vampire. "All I've heard is 'maybe'." She spoke up after Parael drew the groups attention to her, folding her arms over her chest. Her pale green eyes glowering daggers into the vampires. "I don't want to risk anyone's life on 'maybe' and," She lowered her arms and took a step forward. "I am not going to-" She cut herself off when a chill ran up her spine and she sensed something fall over the bunker. Her eyes snapped over to Parael and she gasped seeing him suspended in the air as red marks like bindings appeared on his body. She reached out to grab him out of instinct. Her fingers felt like they hit an invisible wall for a moment before she was thrown back by the energy encasing Parael. Her body slammed into one of the concrete walls, the force of the impact cracking the stone underneath her. Rikive growled in anger as she dropped back onto the floor, perfectly fine after having what felt like a semi truck run into her. Hands clenched at her sides, all she could do was watch with growing anger and horror as Parael was turned into a toddler. Swears and other choice words fell out of her mouth in Old Norse, her tone laced with frustration. She turned and punched the concrete wall behind her and creating a good sized depression in the rock. She kept her fist there for a moment, taking in a deep breaths to calm herself back down. "Parael," She breathed out, lowering her hand and turning around to look down at toddler Parael. "You aren't fat. You're a baby. Again." She explained, jaw tight as she tried to calm down and think rationally again. It was hard considering not only was her friend in danger as long as Gordon had his sword, but their best weapon against Nemesemt was completely neutralized.</s>	<\|message\|>Kaori Lyle Kaori silently watched as Rikive refused her. She was statuesque in her quiet: cold, breathless and still. She could have argued, but at this point, she was growing weary of their constant bickering. The most reaction she could manage towards Rikive's power trip was minor irritation. At least with vampires, someone gave an order and everyone followed. It didn't speak highly of the group to realize that even the chaos of vampires was more organized than this. "I am not going to-" Then the whole dynamic of the room changed. Kaori stiffened as Parael underwent his transition. Not many things made her anxious, but this did. In a physical fight, Kaori was fast, strong and clever, and a reliable asset. Against this sort of dark magic, vampires held very little advantage. She watched as the man shrank and shrank, into the size of a toddler. He whined, and Rikive attended to him. In the aftermath, the room felt thick with tension. Kaori clenched her hands against her knee, being careful not to blood-stain the sleeves of her mothers vintage robe. "It seems to me that you could use all the help you can get," Kaori began. Her tone was very matter-of-fact as she stated the obvious, "You brought me here, not the other way around. If you don't want my help, I'd be happy to leave."</s>
<\|description\|>Kaori Lyle Age: 42 (Appears Early 20's) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire Physical Description: Talents:- Immortality - Enhanced strength and agility - Enhanced Senses - Healing - Experienced with firearms and blades - Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes History:During the Vietnam War, Kaori's father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised. In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family's decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income. In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of 'work' into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her 'change' into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles. Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively. Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence. Psychological Profile:Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn't exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn't opposed to taking a life, she also doesn't murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she's always been a bit of a loner and doesn't confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it's unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty. Possessions:-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother -A small arsenal of firearms -Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent.</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir Rikive shut her eyes and took in a deep breath. "Yes, Beth." She answered, opening her eyes again and looking over to the spirit. "Do what you have to and I'll ask Autumn to do the same. If she isn't already doing it." She said to her before turning to the others. "Alright, I guess we don't have much choice." She sighed, putting her hands on her hips. "To the warehouse we go, but this time we are going to have a plan and we are going to stick with it." In fact, they were going to have to make a few plans, of course not in the presence of their new vampire 'friend'.</s> <\|message\|>Antonio Victor Barnes Not, as it turned out, a warehouse in the traditional sense. Rather, it was the Schloss Holzberg, a manor home built in the 19th century by an industrialist that built the place in the German style, with turrets and rounded staircases, and much wrought iron. In 1907, tragedy struck the Holzberg family and ownership, through the will, reverted to a foundation that tried to do good works with the properties it inherited -- there was the name Holzberg on a library in Dorset, there was a symphony hall downtown with the same. Try as the Foundation might, however, the house itself was unattractive to buyers. The house was built of good stone and mortar and resembled more a castle than a city home. The house had occupants, renters, once in a while, but they did not stay very long. There was always a bad reputation attached to the place that clung to it like old ivy. The Foundation tried to turn it into a residential treatment facility, but the high rate of patient abuse and suicides and overall poor performance by the facility caused the city to shut it down; it was a scandal. As a result, the place lay abandoned for a decade and a half. Lying on the outskirts of the city, it was part of Holzberg Park, which shared less of the reputation for terrible things than the abandoned manor, but the reality was that Holzberg Park was a place where particularly sadistic vampires did their hunting, as it seemed to pick up more than its fair share of people with mental illness, living homeless, particularly after cuts were made in the 1980's to mental health institutions. The park itself had a leering, too-dark aspect to it, as the branches of trees along the bike and jogging paths seemed to hang down menacingly; by day, it was a muse for local artists, for night it was a place for hookers and drug dealers to ply their wares, and for drunk people with pre-existing illnesses to howl at the demons in their head. That was what the group was walking into; a place of wrought iron fences tipped with spearpoints on top, gargoyles that leered down, stout wooden doors and narrow windows set into towers.</s> <\|message\|>Parael Magnus Parry had tried to be patient with Tony and the others as they left the bunker deep underground. He really had. But this... this was beyond absurd. The onesie, while infantile, was still made by Calvin Klein, so he could in fact be caught dead wearing it. See also the Crock shoes he wore dangling from his feet. And he could suffer through the Huggies, seeing as they were all part of the facade in the first place. The baby sling around Tony's shoulders was uncomfortable, but it worked for transportation purposes. It was the fact that even as an adult Parry's mind and mouth had a tendency to wander, leaving him babbling on completely without a cause or care in the world during their drive here, that made Tony reach into Parry's bag and (much to Parry's surprise) remove a pacifier before shoving it in Parry's mouth. That had set Parry in a cross mood for two reasons: first, he didn't like being told (much less forced) to shut up, and second, his beloved bag should only ever answer his call. Why had it responded to Tony? He didn't have long to contemplate that fact since they parked the cars outside the Holzberg manner and stood awaiting the night's trials and tribulations. Parry shivered just looking at the place. He might not be a fully grown angel any more, but the spirits here were far from settled and the place stank of raw magic. Anything could be inside those gates- werewolves, witches, even Russians- and Parry wouldn't know it. "Fow the wecowd," Parry grumbled after removing the pacifier, fidgeting in his sling as he looked up at Tony, "baby fat makes a bad human shiewd. I won't stop any buwwets coming youw way." Which gave Parry an idea, if a small one. "Can you weach in the bag an' get me a mawkew? I can't cut off heads, but I can stiw dwaw wawds on you guys."</s> <\|message\|>Flint White Flint turned off the engine to his car and opened the door, standing outside too the view of the twisting manor that they were here to investigate. Flicking his cigarette butt on the floor, he walked over to the boot of his car and removed a violin case from within, he then went to the van to meet with the group. "What the hell are we doing here again?" Flint asked, going for another cigarette as he clicked his fingers to a flame, placing the violin case beside him. He had been here before, quite a while back now. A few vampire cases here and there, he wasn't pleased to be back. Too many 'modern gangsters' in recent times. Nothing like what Flint used to be, no style, no honour and no respect, and they couldn't shoot for shit. "What's the Plan?" He asked Rikive as he leant on the van, smoking his cigarette leisurely. If it was his decision, he would be going in alone. Using the knife on his belt to quickly and silently take out any guards that stood nearby, when he found what they where looking for he would either pick it up or if it where too heavy to simply take he would use his air manipulative powers to raise it a few inches from the ground and glide out of the manor.</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir Rikive stared out into the park, looking into every shadow, crevice and nook she could. Searching for hidden enemies that were waiting to ambush them. She was brimming with energy again and ready for another fight. It was amazing the difference resting for a few hours could make. That and eating as much food as she could before they had to leave. So long as she didn't have to use her magic to bring someone back from the brink of death, she was good to go. Rikive resisted the urge to sigh when Flint posed his question. They had already gone over this, but Flint had been pretty intoxicated when they were planning."You really should cut back on drinking." She suggested, pulling a marker out of her back pocket to give to Parael. "We're going to going up to this place quietly." She explained, holding out her hand for Parael to draw the ward on. "We're going to split up and scout the place to see if anyone is home. We meet up again in no less than fifteen minutes, report our findings and then we'll head inside. Of course if there are guards we'll need to coordinate an attack. No one is going off alone though so pick someone to watch your back." She turned her head to look at the woman that brought them here. "I'll be pairing up with Kaori."</s> <\|message\|>Arachne (Assumed name: Autumn Weltich) Splitting up didn't sound like the greatest of ideas. But both Beth and herself scoped out the place as best they could. But the place was restless with previous events. Such places were not locations that Autumn wished to visit. Their wild card was out of commision wich was both a good an bad thing. Always the business woman the group thankfully did not saddle her with the toddling Celestial. It was only natural that she and Gray would team up. Them already having worked together it made sense to go with tried and true. This time however she was not going in unarmed. While not as well equipped as her friend she had brought along some firearms with at least some stopping power. Upon the offer of wards she had to stop and think about it. Most of the time she avoided them on her person as they could disrupt her guise. But given how little they had together she took out the marker and handed it to Perry. "What wards do you have in mind?"</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover Gray stretched and yawned as he climbed out of the car. Leaving his shotgun on its sling he slipped his mask on again. "I'm all game for the plan but what exactly do you think is in there? It helps to risk your life when you have some clue what your looking for otherwise this ends up being a hunt for a questing beast." The manor was quite large and he couldn't tell from here if there was an active power source inside or if it was running dark. With its history it could very well have cameras inside and a security room. This would all go faster if they could figure out what's inside and get out. There was something eerie about the place. The gargoyles on the roof were certainly part of it. Their textures seemed too realistic and detailed. Clouds rolled across the sky like swarming phantoms. It was going to get wet.</s>	<\|message\|>Kaori Lyle The ride over had been trying for Kaori. Gray's smell was too provocative for her to be in a small space with, and the scent of the lycan was foul. It was like spraying perfume over body-odor. Most of the ride she spent holding her breath. She was extremely relieved when they arrived at the small castle. Kaori could almost taste the anxious energy radiating off of the group. She didn't blame them. To someone unfamiliar with Holzberg manor, it looked like something out of a horror story. The property wasn't unfamiliar territory to a vampire. Although she and her kind never ventured inside the building, the park was a popular feeding ground if you had a taste for the macabre. She lowered herself from the vehicle, now clean and fully recharged. Her shirt had been obliterated from the struggle, so she had tied the dark robe around her torso. She imagined she looked more like a doll this way, delicate and unlike the beast that had nearly ripped their hunters throat out. But that was the nature of a vampire, to lure with charm and devour with ferocity. "I'll be pairing up with Kaori." It was obvious Rikive meant to play babysitter. "I'm flattered," she sarcastically responded. As the others offered their hands forward, Kaori crossed her arms casually in front of her chest. She meant to make the action unnoticeable. In the same way they didn't trust her, she didn't feel inclined to trust a group of rebel kidnappers.</s>
<\|description\|>Kaori Lyle Age: 42 (Appears Early 20's) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire Physical Description: Talents:- Immortality - Enhanced strength and agility - Enhanced Senses - Healing - Experienced with firearms and blades - Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes History:During the Vietnam War, Kaori's father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised. In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family's decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income. In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of 'work' into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her 'change' into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles. Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively. Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence. Psychological Profile:Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn't exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn't opposed to taking a life, she also doesn't murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she's always been a bit of a loner and doesn't confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it's unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty. Possessions:-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother -A small arsenal of firearms -Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent.</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover The deluge started. With the others running ahead and otherwise taking cover he strolled along. It was like being in Oregon in the middle of the year where torrential downpours were commonplace. He enjoyed the sound of the rain and getting wet wasn't unpleasant to him. The patter gave way to a blinding sun that was completely out of place. The building that should have been there was replaced by a vibrant display of unfamiliar trees. The cool night air was replaced by a humidity that clung to you like a filthy diaper. "What?" He shook his head with a heavy sigh. "I hate magic. It'd be different if I had some. I wonder if Karram can fix this. Where am I anyway?" He conversed with himself.</s> <\|message\|>Flint White Flint had been taken by surprise by the sudden change of atmosphere. Of course if you had looked at him you wouldn't have noticed. He had preferred the rain however, to wherever he was now, too hot and damp. He began to rack his brain, really look around, it was some sort of forest he knew that much, and the fauna was not American, neither European. Maybe South American, hell for all he knew he could be in Asia. No, he had to stick with the facts, he was still at the manor home, just some kind of magic wards protecting the place. Flint began to walk along what seemed like a trodden path. He needed to find the manor, or at least whatever the manor was hidden under in this place. The ground under Flint began to become more messy, leaves seemingly covering where a path once was twigs seemingly placed to look random rather than naturally forming, it seemed someone was attempting to hide the path, or possibly to hide a trip… The thought was interrupted by the familiar click of a grenades pin being removed. Luckily Flint's reactions whereas on point as they were 60 years ago, and the man was covered in solid rock as the explosion occurred, the shrapnel chipping away at the dirt and stone but not making its way through, Flint shifted the barrier out of his way as he wiped the sweat off his brow. "That was a close one…" Flint muttered to himself, trailing off as he soon realised this wasn't any ordinary jungle, this was a battleground. Just not one he had thought in, it was a guerrilla war, a lot more sneakiness and a lot more camouflage. Like some of his brethren in Japan, the war Flint avoided to be shipped off to France. This was going to be 'fun'</s> <\|message\|>Arachne (Assumed name: Autumn Weltich) An explosion nearby alerted Autumn to someone else nearby. Kind of hard to miss a grenade going off. It was a semi-familiar sound even though she had not been in any wars. There were enough through history to educate her about many different weapons of war. Given that this was a illusion it was probably a safe bet to assume it was constructed from one of their minds. Given the terrain she would say Tony. This looked enough like Vietnam to draw a decent conclusion. It didn't entirely help though because they were still trapped. Sighing she began to make her way toward where she heard the explosion. On the way she stopped at one point. A nigh invisible line stretched across a clearing. She'd made enough webs for it to stand out clear as day. She practically invented this kind of thing. That wouldn't be the only trap around though. The ground and water were dangerous. Maybe it was time to forgo some of the things she was hiding. Losing her shoes she took to climbing over the vegetation. Her hands and feet easily clung to the foliage and made getting around much easier. Only down side was the noise it made. Most of the plant life wasn't strong enough to not flex under her weight. Beat finding a trap though. Before long she managed to spot Flint. Landing in a safe spot she stepped over to him. "Flint, stumbling around explosives?"</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover A lanky figure knelt in the distance. Even with the dirtied clothing covering it there seemed to be something unsettling. Gray drew closer quietly, his feet barely rustling the grass. The kneeling figure breathed with short hard breaths, hyperventilating like a dog. The straw hat on their head shifted as Gray stepped a little too loud. Slowly the head turned. It stopped turning before he could see it. Rising to its feet it completed the revolution. Skin ashen like a dead man, face trapped in a state of terrifying rage, eyes that were shriveled from being unable to blink. Without those she would seem like a normal Vietnamese villager. With a deafening shriek of rage the 'blessed' of Abigor sprinted at Gray like an uncaring PCP addict. "Shit." Was what he managed before raising the shotgun level with her chest and unloading three shots. They stunned her for a moment before she started running again, practically unhindered by the more than a dozen bleeding holes scattered across her chest. After cranking off a few more shots the cursed woman closed the distance and despite severe wounds and clear holes through her face she screamed with unearthly fury, grabbing at the shotgun and disarming him. Gray happened to be still attached to the shotgun by a strap and was thrown along with the weapon by her beastly strength. Rolling back onto his feet as quickly as he could, he leveled his weapon instead for her right bicep. Bam, bam, bam! Splintered bone and sinew still allowed the worthless limb to cling onto the woman. She jolted forward, clearly unaffected by the pain of her mortal wound. "That's right!" Gray shouted, aiming for the throat. Another three bangs rang through the air. Vital fluids emptied from the devastating wound to her neck. The volume of her gurgling was unnerving as she kept moving forward. The kukri slid cleanly out of its sheathe on his chest. With a quick and strong sweep he cleaved into the unprotected flesh on the right side of her neck. The kukri met spine and Gray pulled it out. Blood spattered onto his vest. His unbalanced adversary was dizzy, no longer screaming and now tottering uneasily. He pulled the blade back and aimed at the neck one more time. This time the heavy silver knife sliced all the way through and the head sailed to the side. The body remained standing for another few seconds, the hand remaining intact reached out to grasp her enemy in a last fit of anger before falling free. Gray kicked the prone body a little. Comfortable that it could no longer try to kill him he wiped the bloody kukri off on a less sullied part of her clothing. "I hate these things." The knife was returned to its sheathe. These followers of rage and war were rarely alone. He looked around to make sure that there wasn't another hiding in wait to strike. His adversary's project wasn't at all comforting. The bed of razor-pointed bamboo spikes was half buried in the grass. "I hope the others are doing well." Gray spoke to himself.</s> <\|message\|>Beth Callahan. Against her better judgement, and for lack of any other idea, Beth pushed forward towards the sounds of gunfire and unnatural thunder. Whatever illusion this was, she maintained it was just that: an illusion. A realistic one at that, but nevertheless. She remained physically intangible, yet kept her eyes to the ground. Whenever she found a tripwire, she cautiously brushed apart the foliage on the ground. If luck prevailed, the disturbance would draw attention to the trap. Every so often the snap of a twig or rustling of leaves would bring Beth to her feet, but nothing came out of the trees, and no sounds followed those. She moved back several paces once, investigated all the hiding place she could find, and found nothing. She blamed the magic of the illusion for playing with her mind. At the sound of another burst of gunfire, nearer this time, she jogged ahead. Perhaps the sounds belonged to Flint, or Tony had retrieved a gun. She'd even welcome the hunter at this point. Emerging into a clearing, sure that this was where the sounds came from, Beth saw an old woman. A familiar old woman, sun-tanned, with wrinkles deep set in her cheeks and around her eyes, just as Beth remembered her. She stood clutching a rotting heart in one age-spotted hand and a ruby pendant in the other. I buried that, Beth reminded herself. The witch smiled at her, as though she weren't straining to crush either heart or ruby, but her eyes held no warmth. The witch had to be a construct of the illusion, for she had no place in the jungle. And still, fear crept into Beth's mind and clouded her logic with doubt. Heaviness began to set in. The light-weightedness she'd grown so used to ebbed away. The old witch swung the pendant gently side to side, while the odd thunderous rumble carried on elsewhere. Beth felt her knees hit solid ground and her hands fall into her lap, and all she could do was watch the ruby swing.</s>	<\|message\|>Kaori Lyle The rain had been so merciless, that it had soaked through the thick curtain of Kaori's ebony hair within the few moments it had lasted. Fantastic, she had sarcastically thought to herself. Although, even then, before the world around them changed to a jungle of bright light, she had felt as if something were off. She was not a very magically aware creature, but even she knew it was too peculiar for a sky-less night to suddenly erupt in downpour. Just as suddenly, it felt as if someone had pulled back the curtains on a lazy morning. The rainclouds parted and the sun seemed to explode into the night sky. It was all she was aware of. The ball of fire burning too close, too low and seeping into her skin like a thousand poisoned needles. She was instantly more animal than person. With a vicious hiss, she sprang from her spot beside Rikive and lunged for the closed sanctuary of a shadow. She found herself gripping a tree, clawing at its bark as if to hollow it out and envelop herself inside. Which, she might if she survived long enough. "How the hell should I know anything about this?!" she growled at Rikive. In her fear, she experienced a sort of fury that rode on the tails of adrenaline. She wasn't personally angry at Rikive, even though she would have thought that to be a stupid question, sun or not. The frustrated squeals that drew from her throat seemed to make that clear as she assaulted the tree bark. Somewhere in the back of her mind, it began to occur to her that she should have gone up in flames the instant the sun had licked her skin, but she was too panicked to really pause to think that through.</s>
<\|description\|>Sapphira Elvron Lux "What better way to live life than to live it to the betterment of others." Nicknames: Saph for short or Lux, which is the Latin word for "light" Aliases: Samantha Greene, Melissa Harrington, and Jade Morris Age: 121 Gender: Female DOB: Spring of 1895 Occupation: Transfer student & Guardians applicant Race: Fae • Light elf Hair Color: Platinum blonde Eye Color: Crystal blue Height and Build: 5'10" • Tall, lithe, & lightly toned Other Appearance: Thanks to her elven genes that inhibit aging once maturity is reached, she looks like she is only in her twenties despite being much older. Her skin in notably pale, much like her nearly white hair and extremely light blue eyes. She has small pointed "elf" ears that she is able to hide under her hair. Her appearance is captivating and feigns innocence. Her voice is eloquent and feminine History/bio: Many elves consider themselves superior to other races, human or supernatural, and would turn a blind eye to things that didn't effect them. However, the Lux family, which has lineage that can be traced back as far as England during the early Middle Ages, humbled themselves and became guardians of all races. They fought to protect supernatural beings from the humans, to protect humans from supernatural beings, and to protect supernatural beings from themselves. They essentially maintained peace for the good of all. Many generations prior to Sapphira, the Lux family became a part of the Guardians, an ancient organization of protectors of the supernatural world that has been around longer than the Gringore Academy. Sapphira grew up in a small community of Supernatural beings on the English countryside. She is an only child, born to a family of Guardians. Her mother was formerly a Guardian before Sapphira was born, while her father remained an active duty Guardian. From a young age, her mother instilled in her the chivalric virtues upheld by their family, of bravery, courtesy, and honor. Her mother taught her about both the supernatural world and the human world. By puberty, age fifty for elves, Sapphira was a wealth of knowledge and was only beginning to learn combat in earnest. Her father would come home as often as his Guardian duties would allow, which was not that often. Her mother was her teacher, best friend, and confidant. When she was not being taught by her mother, she would roughhouse with the local male "children," or explore the nearby forests on foot or on horseback. Sapphira's once peaceful life changed in 1999, the year she turned 104. It was the year she was suppose to go to the Guardian institute in London, England to take the test to become an official Guardian. Was being the operative word. That year her father was killed by malicious hunters. The hunter got away. Sapphira, of course, postponed going to the institute while the Supernatural community laid low and the Guardians upped their taskforce. Six years went by with seemingly little to no abnormal activity. During that time, she took on leadership positions within the community and continued training with her mother. She was getting ready to go to the institute when the hunters struck again. Sapphira's mother was killed in 2005 not too far from their home. Her world and the world of her Supernatural community fell to pieces. In the past eleven years, she has moved around a lot. She has spent time with her uncles and aunt in Italy, Romania, and Iceland respectively. She has done some traveling of her own as well. Everywhere she went the darkness of her past seemed to follow her like a shadow. She wanted more than anything to become the Guardian that her parents trained her to be. She wanted to protect others as they had done, even if it eventually led to her death. What better way to live life than to live it to the betterment of others. With some convincing, her uncle in Romania let her attend the Guardian institute in Timișoara and shadow him at his job for a few years. She eventually decided upon transferring to the up and coming Gringore Academy. Family/Relationships: The Lux family can be traced as far back as England during the early Middle Ages (5th to 15th century). Father • Deceased in 1999 Mother • Deceased in 2005 Two uncles • Father's side • Both Guardians • One in Italy & one in Romania Aunt • Mother's side • A Guardian • In Iceland Grandparents • Lost track of or deceased Other/Extra: She knows enough Romanian and Italian to hold a basic conversation. She loves horses and is a fairly good horseback rider.</s> <\|message\|>Penelope le Fay Cafeteria, town, it made no difference to her. Though it was times like these that she considered getting better, stronger, with her ability to travel through shadows. Sure, it was kind of cheating, but who wouldn't mind getting from point A to point B quicker? Especially if it was a walk into town from campus. Maybe that would be the area she worked on strengthening this year given she had little desire to figure out if she could get strong enough to summon undead or command vampires - the first might be useful, though creepy, and the latter...she knew enough about vampires to know she wouldn't want to find out how one would react to finding out they had been controlled. Penelope folded the flier up and shoved it into her back pocket while she walked with Tony. She preferred settling up plans right away than let them stagnate. It helped make sure it wasn't forgotten. Deciding what to eat was always so tough. Mostly because she never seemed to have an appetite. Considering all she had was a protein bar before a strenuous work out, she knew it was about time for an actual meal. So she got in line behind Tony and picked out a sandwich and a banana. Penelope had spotted the Wolfpack when they exited the line, but was going to ignore it until Tony kindly pointed them out. She did her best not to scowl, because there were a few that Tony was friendly with. But it was a tough thing to do - keep from matching glares with the upper rung members. The best she could do to not glare was keep a placid look on her face while making eye contact with the ones glaring. There was half a cafeteria between them and the Fitzroy Wolfpack, but that didn't really mean much when it came to the way shifters could move. She set her shoulders, leveling her gaze with Conrad - a member that lost out on being lieutenant to the current one, and the one member she butted with the most after her freshman year after he tried more than putting moves on her at a party - as she continued on toward a different table. "Probably best to not pick a fight with a sorry lot of sods so early in the day." Being on school grounds - they learned from experience - wouldn't matter much in the terms of explaining why two guardian applicants - auxiliary members to boot - got into a physical conflict with others from the student body. "Here's a good one," Penelope said as she rounded then sat at a table. It had the benefit of being well away from the wolfpack as well as being close enough to a wall to make sure she could see the whole cafeteria. One too many fights had her overly cautious and not wanting to give anyone a chance to get the drop on her from behind. At least, no one she had the chance of seeing. Maybe she'd eventually kick the habit, but it would doubtfully be while she was attending Gringore. She hid her glances around the room as best she could from others, but she knew Tony would notice. He always noticed. So she decided to make conversation with him between small bites of her sandwich. "So, excited for your final year? Looking forward to going to Rome for the test? That's coming up next summer, isn't it?" She knew it was coming up soon, before she was finished training here, and that she'd have to wait at least a year or two to take the test herself.</s> <\|message\|>Sapphira Elvron Lux "Don't sound so excited for it, Sapphira," he said with a chuckle. "Sorry," Sapphira replied to Jack. She was admittedly a bit amused by how easily he threw sarcasm back at her. Other than the occasional eye roll, she typically tried to refrain from being too "sassy" as her mother had called it. Some people are more easily offended, but Jack didn't seem to be one of those people. Nevertheless, she would try her best to be well-mannered towards him. She walked beside him as they headed towards the cafeteria. She had to slow down her long strides to match his more leisurely pace. She noted that they were similar in height, with him being only two inches taller than her 5'10" stature. "What lead you to want to be a Guardian? Being an elf, you've probably been alive for far longer than I have, so how long did it take for you to decide you wanted to do it?" he asked. "I was born into a long line of Guardians, so it is really all I know. Both my parents were Guardians, though my mother stopped going on missions when she was pregnant with me and thereafter. My mother homeschooled me and taught me the majority of what I know today. Given the way she raised me, I never really wanted to be anything but a Guardian," Sapphira explained. Truthfully she felt a pang of sadness in her heart at talking about her parents in the past tense, though she was skilled at not showing the emotion outwardly. She didn't think the sadness and anger from losing them would ever go away, no matter how long she lived. Instead of letting it destroy her, she worked hard to let it fuel her. She gave him a grateful smile when he courteously opened the door for her. She walked through the doorway and let her gaze take in her new surroundings. She recognized some of the people, namely the red headed woman with dark magic and the telekinetic Asian man. Her gaze then landed on the Fitzroy Wolfpack seated in the back corner. She had barely entered the cafeteria, and they were already brazenly checking her out! Her eyes narrowed slightly, the characteristic sign that she was getting annoyed or feeling threatened. She returned her gaze to Jack before she had a chance to do anything uncivil. It was best that she not start a fight unless utterly necessary. @Nightfury Kat</s> <\|message\|>Alason Iver Campbell Alas on shook his head and grinned. Always on the move. With a bit of a huff, he rose from the table and followed his new acquaintance at a walking pace not bothering to run after her but maintaining sight. He was just beginning to worry that Anwen might fully disappear from his range of vision when she seemed to stop at the base of a particularly hardy tree. Rationalizing it to be her home; or just something she found the littlest bit interesting, given her characterization thus far; he began walking a touch more quickly before eventually reaching the base of the tree. Looking up the colossal trunk, he wondered how someone could live like this. The isolation, of course, would drive one mad, but also it just seems so… "Cramped." He looked down at the expectant Anwen, resting in the dirt and roots as though it were nothing. She seemed to be allocating him some time to investigate, so he went back to investigating the tree. Running his hand up the trunk, he imagined the decades it must have taken to bring this beautiful creature to its current shape. Broadening his gaze to he surrounding vines and roots, he saw the little ecosystem at work: a miniature garden of Eden all working around a nymph with no idea how impressive—how beautiful—her world was. "Thanks for bringing me out here." But, Alason began to wonder, that begs another question. "Why did you bring me out here?"</s>	<\|message\|>Sapphira Elvron Lux Loki was woken up to a high pitch "kewee-kewee-kewee" coming from outside his apartment. He let out an annoyed groan and rolled out from under his sheets. He stopped to let his eyes adjust to the darkness as soon as his feet hit the floor beside his bed. It was definitely too early for any sane person to be up. His eyes quickly adjusted into his night vision, and he sleepily walked from his bedroom to the adjacent living room + kitchen. He threw open the screen door leading to the small balcony. His African crowned eagle Syxtar Shade was perched on the balcony railing and abruptly stopped its annoying "wake up call." "What?" Loki snapped as the cool early morning air bit at his bare chest. Shade cocked its head to the side and gazed at him with its piercing yellow eyes. "You want to go hunting. That's why you woke me up so early, right?" he questioned. Shade let out a sharp cry that grated on his ears. "Okay, okay. Hush up before someone hears you." He turned around and went back inside, leaving the screen door open. He took a quick shower; the bathroom like the rest of the apartment was small and unassuming. It wasn't completely desirable, but it beat living in the dorms at Gringore Academy. He tried that his first year. Tried being the operative word. He was close to murdering his obnoxious freshman roommates. After his shower, he looked through his closet for something suitable to wear in the woods. His closet was filled to the capacity with dark colored clothes, a large portion of which were suits. He pulled out a pair of dark blue jeans, a burgundy long sleeve shirt, black combat boots, a navy hunting vest, and a watch to complete the outfit. He grabbed one of the black suits and dress shoes to put in his car so he could possibly change into it later. When he was done getting ready, he peeked his head back outside. "You know the drill, Shade. Meet you at Gringore," he exclaimed before shutting the screen door. He then grabbed his car keys and headed out. While he drove, Shade flew high above, staying hidden the best it could. Loki and Shade ended up spending hours hunting and exploring in the forest and fields around Gringore. Shade was a born hunter and could dexterously maneuver its 5' wingspan. It caught multiple rodents with ease and ate several of its catches. By the time they started heading back to the academy, Loki was in a better mood, and Shade had a decent breakfast.</s>
<\|description\|>Séamus ó Faoláin Nicknames/Alias/AKA: Too many to remember Age: 134 Gender: Male DOB: June 27, 1882 Occupation: Student Race: Vampire Hair Color: Brown Eye Color: Brown Height and Build: 6' 4", muscular Other Appearance: Scar down his left bicep, scar down his right calf. History/bio: Séamus and Ruaidhrí, identical twin brothers, were born to a working class Irish family in Cork, in 1882. They lived a relatively regular life - for a poor family - until one night in 1895. Their family's home was broken into by vampires, and all of his family except for him, his brother Ruaidhrí, and his sister Mary were killed. Mary was taken away, and the vampires, having fed enough off of their family, decided to turn Séamus and Ruaidhrí into vampires. Séamus and Ruaidhrí traveled around Great Britain for three years until one night, when Séamus and Ruaidhrí attacked by a group of hunters. They managed to kill the hunters, the first humans they had killed. This had different effects on the two of them. Séamus loved the feeling of killing a human, and became sadistic and kill crazy. However, Ruaidhrí was distraught, and turned to religion. At this point, they separated. Séamus traveled all across Great Britain and Ireland, leaving a path of death as he went. In 1900, Séamus decided that he would travel through the rest of Europe. He traveled all over Europe for over 100 years, never staying in one place for too long. It was whilst traveling that he discovered his love for languages, although he still speaks in a Irish accent whenever speaking English. He also managed to get a daylight charmed necklace from a witch in France shortly after leaving England, which he always wears. Over the years, he has also trained his body to make sure that he is never killed by a hunter, and can kill whomever he wants. In 2014, Séamus found his brother Ruaidhrí, and they have been travelling together since, which has lead to Séamus having to kill less people, especially because of Ruaidhrí's newfound religion. Séamus and Ruaidhrí have come to Gringore Academy to get a proper education, being too poor for one when they was younger, and they still look like they are in their late teens. Family/Relationships: Mother - Jonathan: died 1895 Father - Mary: died 1895 Older brother - Jonathan: died 1895 Identical twin brother - Ruaidhrí: living Younger brother - Alexander: died 1895 Younger sister - Mary: Location unknown. Presumed deceased. Other/Extra: Séamus can speak English, French, Spanish, Italian, Irish, German, Czech, Romansh, Polish, Russian, and Hungarian. Full Name: Ruaidhrí ó Faoláin Nicknames/Alias/AKA: Too many to remember Age: 134 Gender: Male DOB: June 27, 1882 Occupation: Student Race: Vampire Hair Color: Brown Eye Color: Brown Height and Build: 6' 4", muscular Other Appearance: Scar down his chest, identification tattoo on his left arm. Always wears a kippah. History/bio: Séamus and Ruaidhrí, identical twin brothers, were born to a working class Irish family in Cork, in 1882. They lived a relatively regular life - for a poor family - until one night in 1895. Their family's home was broken into by vampires, and all of his family except for him, his brother Ruaidhrí, and his sister Mary were killed. Mary was taken away, and the vampires, having fed enough off of their family, decided to turn Séamus and Ruaidhrí into vampires. Séamus and Ruaidhrí traveled around Great Britain for three years until one night, when Séamus and Ruaidhrí attacked by a group of hunters. They managed to kill the hunters, the first humans they had killed. This had different effects on the two of them. Séamus loved the feeling of killing a human, and became sadistic and kill crazy. However, Ruaidhrí was distraught, and turned to religion. At this point, they separated. Ruaidhrí became very religious, and discovered Judaism. In 1899, Ruaidhrí decided to move to Germany to live with more Jews, and try to be as pious a Jew as possible, at least, as pious a Jew as it is possible for someone who feeds on blood to be. On his way, he gained a daylight charmed ring that he still wears. In 1914, with the beginning of the Great War, Ruaidhrí escaped to the Netherlands, and stayed there after the war. However, when it was invaded in 1940 he was captured, and taken to a Auschwitz to work in a factory. He never attempted escape, and was freed when the concentration camp was liberated in January 1945. At this point, Ruaidhrí decided to see what living in the Soviet Union was like. However, after a few years, he decided that he didn't like this, and moved to a Jewish community in the United Kingdom. In 2014, Ruaidhrí found his brother Séamus, and they have been travelling together since. Ruaidhrí still attempts to keep up his Judaism to the best of his ability. Séamus and Ruaidhrí have come to Gringore Academy to get a proper education, being too poor for one when they was younger, and they still look like they are in their late teens. Family/Relationships: Mother - Jonathan: died 1895 Father - Mary: died 1895 Older brother - Jonathan: died 1895 Identical twin brother - Séamus: living Younger brother - Alexander: died 1895 Younger sister - Mary: Location unknown. Presumed deceased. Other/Extra: Ruaidhrí can speak English, Irish, German, Polish, Russian, Dutch, Yiddish, and Hebrew.</s> <\|message\|>Julian Marino All the complimenting Séamus was doing of Julian's lifting convinced Julian that Séamus admired him and therefore was a good person to be around. This, along with the endorphins from the workout, put Julian in a good mood. He thought about starting school, and instead of feeling dread of the workload, felt excitement about learning new things. He thought for the first time that summer that he was ready to go back to school. After Julian asked Séamus how he got so big, Séamus' answer sparked Julian's curiosity, and he greedily pressed Séamus for more. "What is it? Could you do it now?" Séamus' statement that it was risky didn't slip past Julian's attention, and he wondered for a second whether he could really trust Séamus. Séamus was a vampire after all, and he had heard rumours about vampires during his time at the school. He decided that Séamus was so muscular, so he must know what he was doing, and complied with what Séamus told him to do next.</s> <\|message\|>Séamus ó Faoláin "What is it? Could you do it now?" Julian asked. Séamus grinned the widest he had grinned in a while. He couldn't believe that someone could be so gullible. In ten minutes, Julian would be eating out of the palm of his hand, and be that was just the first step in the plan. "Of course I can do it now, just follow me," Séamus told Julian, and began walking to the bathroom. "You see," Séamus said, "vampires have this chemical in their body. It's great for building muscle and getting taller, and it also helps with another thing," he told Julian, winking, "So all I need to do, is bite you, and inject some of that into you." Séamus could see that Julian was looking worried. "Don't worry, it won't hurt much at first, but then it'll stop hurting completely. And the best thing, is that once it's in you, I never need to put more in. It'll just stay there forever, and so will the benefits." he reassured him with lies. As they entered the bathroom, Séamus led Julian into a stall, locking it behind them. He grabbed Julian's shoulders, "Try to relax, it'll hurt less." Then, Séamus leant into his neck, piercing the skin with his fangs. He sucked some blood, about one pint, being quite thirsty. This, along with the venom that flowed in when Séamus stopped sucking, would be enough to make Julian pass out, but not a dangerous quantity. As soon as Séamus let go of Julian, he slumped against the wall of the stall and down to the ground, unconscious. When he woke up, Séamus would be able to tell him anything, and he'd believe him.</s> <\|message\|>Julian Marino As Julian followed Séamus towards the bathroom, Julian got the idea that they were about to take some illegal drugs or steroids. Séamus started to tell Julian about the chemicals in a vampire's body, and how Séamus would have to bite him, which sounded to Julian like something similar to injecting drugs. Being the party-lover that Julian was, he did have some experience with drugs although he didn't know which ones, but he had never bothered with steroids because he thought his werewolf genes allowed him to get strong enough. He was a little nervous about what Séamus was about to do. He wondered if anything permanently damaging could happen, since Séamus said the chemical would stay in his body forever. In the bathroom, Séamus grabbed Julian's shoulders, and Julian was surprised at how tense they were. Suddenly, there was a sharp stabbing pain in Julian's neck. Julian gritted his teeth as stars appeared in his eyes, his body rigid despite Séamus' advice for him to relax. He felt the blood being sucked out of his body and realized Séamus was letting his vampire side take over. Was Séamus trying to kill him? Julian tried to struggle against Séamus' jaws but found himself too weak to move. He felt a sensation of falling, but the world went dark before he hit the ground.</s> <\|message\|>Alason Iver Campbell It's not as though the pseudo-condominium wasn't well designed, after all, the subtle grading of nature into furniture was rather pleasing to the eye, but the small quarters, the lack of any separate rooms... and speaking of separate rooms, Alason had to wonder: "Do you not have a bathr-," ah, a silly question. A solid pat confirmed that the moss which constituted the bed was at least on par with his own mattress, if not better, but Alason's critical eye turned to wonderment upon seeing a rather out of place sword hanging on the wall. Foregoing tact, he ran his hand along the blade, feeling, hearing, tasting the metal with the tips of his middle and forefinger, a pattern of seemingly infinitely complex flora running beneath his hand. Drawing it back down, he rather cautiously examined a permanent living fixation to the guard - a red blossom - from which trailed a web of thorns. Curious. Alason was whipped back into the present by Anwen asking him something, though he did not quite catch what. He pieced it together, however, when she extended a handful of fresh raspberries. She placed them on a table to his left, and he was about to reach out and grab some when he noticed the spiraling form of a sleeping squirrel. The internal debate as to whether or not to still reach for the fruit was quickly ended by harrowing thoughts of rabies and needing to explain to his mother how he had followed a stranger to her treehouse in the woods and was bitten by her pet squirrel when he accepted her magical fruit. Perhaps I'd best not, he resolved, and placed his hand back at his side. "Forgive me if I'm insulting you, I'd just rather not-" Alason stopped, his mouth open perhaps two centimeters, as he realized that he was about to apologize for a social faux pas to a woman who had just, somehow without him even noticing, stripped down to the layer most minimally permitted to not be a crime. "Never mind." When Anwen asked him what his house was like, Alason wasn't quite sure how to answer. Rather, that is to say that he knew what his home was like, obviously, but why was she asking? It isn't as though he lives in some stone fortress surrounded by gargoyles and ravens as he walked about the corridors, filled with erect assemblages of dark, knightly armor, wearing mystical robes and chanting necromantic incantations. However, with a quick perusal of her face, Alason realized something quite pitiful: that's exactly what she was imagining. "I-," Alason contemplated lying, just for the sake of a story a touch more fun than the insufferably grey reality of his life, "I just live in one of the apartments. Second floor, room 208. That's about all there is to it." Despite his best efforts, Alason couldn't help but let a hint of blush bleed from his cheeks.</s>	<\|message\|>Séamus ó Faoláin Séamus leaned down, and picked up Julian's limp body, putting him over his shoulder. "Damn, he does need some more muscle, he's so light," he said to himself. Séamus walked back to his room, with Julian over his shoulder, making sure to go via corridors that would mean they wouldn't be seen. After a while, Séamus was back at his room, and he opened the door. "Anyone here?" he called out, but thankfully the room was empty. He put Julian down on his bed, and waited for him to wake up.</s>
<\|description\|>Morgan James Selwyn Nicknames/Alias/AKA: Morgie, though he rather dislikes it. Age: 19 Gender: Male DOB: June 27, 1997 Occupation: Student at Gringore Academy Race: Witch (Adaquare) Hair Color: Dark Brown Eye Color: Silver-Grey Height and Build: 5'7"; wiry and thin Other Appearance: Scars belying jagged tears and severe burns cover the majority of Morgan's back, from just above his tailbone to the nape of his neck. They make him feel vulnerable and thus he is typically seen wearing a scarf or high-collared jacket even during the hottest days of Summer. Though generally soft-spoken and reserved, Morgan's voice has a resonant quality that becomes apparent when he actually talks. Often it is difficult for him to look directly into the face or eyes of someone he does not know well or trust. History/bio: The coven Morgan belongs to is called the Selwyn Circle, named so after the original founding family. The coven is rather large, to the point that the members live in groups scattered across various states. They do not live in traditional families, and most marital pairs have what humans would consider to be an open, or non-exclusive relationship. Thus, almost every member of the circle is related to the others in one way or another, and most children have an abundance half- and full-blooded siblings. The Selwyn Circle considers itself a 'Natural' coven, and teach their children that magic is an intrinsic part of their being and spirit. Their abilities are a part of everyday life, and as such they receive little in the way of formal education and training as pertains to magic. Children are encouraged to practice and play with their Art, exploring their potential and strengths on their own, though not generally unsupervised. A child with a particularly strong or uncontrollable talent may be taken aside to be taught one-on-one, but it is very rare. Within the coven, most members are female and female children are favored more by their parents. They tend to receive more attention, and thus develop their abilities and strengths faster and to a greater degree than male children. Morgan grew up surrounded by sisters and half sisters, not to mention the general 'it takes a village' sentiment the Circle has considering the care of children. Most of his time was spent in the company of uncles or occasionally his father, practicing control over his abilities of his own volition. Even though most of his sisters progressed in their studies faster than him and generally could run circles around his comparatively simple spellwork, he often found that the sheer strength of his abilities outmatched theirs. Thus he was doubly an outcast, for he had no male companions his age and most of his sisters avoided him out of jealousy or were cruel to him out of spite. There were a few exceptions of course, most notably his eldest full sister, Piper. The story of Morgan's scars is largely one of mistakes and miscalculations. There came a day, not too long before his specialization was chosen, when he decided to practice on his own for once. Deep in the woods near his home was a small lake where he often went to clear his mind or simply get away from his family. Worn nearly to exhaustion by his practice and attempts to handle large amounts of power more precisely, he was entirely unable to defend himself when he was set upon by a vampire. She had seen him practicing and sought not only to slake her thirst, but also create a powerful thrall through consistent feeding. He was unable to stop himself from following her to her den. Morgan spent only a few hours there before Piper and his uncle Ruben tracked him down, having become worried when he did not return when he said he would. Near helpless, he watched as his sister and uncle cornered the vampire between his elaborate spellwork and her blasts of fire and lightning. Once caught so, the creature responded with no thought for its own well-being and fell savagely upon Ruben. As the light left his eyes, it sent Piper into a rage such as she had not experienced for years. In the heat of her anger, she incinerated the vampire. In the process, she nearly killed herself by overusing her magic and severely injured Morgan in the resulting blast. It was only after she regained consciousness that she was able to carry her brother back to their family for healing. Much of the damage was too extensive to be healed outright, but he was stabilized and recovered on his own over time. After the first healing and regaining consciousness of his own he refused to let another bear the pain of his wounds, for he considered the eventual scars to be a lesson to both himself and his sister, as well as a final and permanent reminder of his uncle. Piper still feels guilty over the hurt she gave to her brother, but covers it well with jests at his expense. It was years later that Morgan decided to forge is own path once more, in attending Gringore Academy. No others of his Circle had attended any similar establishment in the past, but neither that nor the misgivings of his mother were enough to stop him. He figured that he had progressed as far as he was able within the Circle, and had no desire to be restricted by the environment he considered to be oppressive. Piper and his father lent their support, and thus he left his family behind to become a boarding student at the Academy. Family/Relationships: Verona Selwyn (Naturalis) - Grandmother, Circle Leader - 72 Arthur Selwyn (Propheta) - Grandfather - (Deceased October 2011) Moira Selwyn (Naturalis) - Mother - 45 Victor Selwyn (Intelligere) - Father - 41 Ruben Selwyn (Fingumas) - Uncle - (Deceased March 2009) Michelle Selwyn (Propheta) - Half-Sister - 27 Piper Selwyn (Ignis) - Sister - 24 Verity Selwyn (Questum) - Half-Sister - 22 Primrose Selwyn (Terreni) - Sister - 17 Diana Selwyn - Sister - 12 Antony Selwyn - Half-Brother - 8 Other/Extra: Morgan plays the flute and piano, though he handles the first more ably. He considers himself to be a passable artist, often spending time outside for the sole purpose of sketching the forms of nature. He carries his grandfather's Grimoire as well as Ruben's in addition to his own slim book of notes. When he is not sketching, studying, or practicing his art, he is often found volunteering in the library at Gringore.</s> <\|message\|>Sapphira Elvron Lux Sapphira started her day early, just as the sun rose lazily into the sky. She had long since established the habit of waking up early, getting ready swiftly, and starting the day with a breath of fresh air. The forests surrounding the Gringore Academy called her name from the moment she arrived in Teemore a few days ago. Since then, she has spent little time in her simple dorm room and has extensively explored what her new home has to offer. After taking a quick shower, she towel dried her hair and ran a brush through her long platinum blonde locks. She then looked through her relatively small selection of clothes and shoes to find what to wear. She chose one of her go to outfits: skinny jeans, a simple top with a shawl or jacket, and combat boots. The skinny jeans were stretchy enough to be comfortable while accentuating her long legs, and the cream colored tank top had an emblem that reminded her of the mythical Tree of Life. She pulled out a pair of short, light brown boots and a black and cream shawl to wear over her tank top. She braided her hair into a partial French braid that almost completely covered her pointed ears. She left her face free of makeup as she usually does. She ventured outside to explore until the student orientation began. She strolled through the courtyard, admiring the beautiful flowers and thinking about what the year had to offer. Having already learned a lot from her mother and from the classes she took at the Guardian institute in Timișoara, Romania, her main focus was to go through the Guardian Training Program. She was confident she could pass the test to become an official Guardian. Time seemed to pass by quickly. She left early for student orientation and found a spot around the middle of the room. She listened intently to the different speakers: Principal Honeycutt, faculty members, and presidents of each school club. She noted that the noise level was a bit loud for her sensitive hearing. Overall, the orientation was informative, and she enjoyed being surrounded by a multitude of Supernatural beings. She may not be a Guardian yet, but she already swore to protect those around her and uphold the peace if the need arose. Her journey to her true calling was just beginning.</s> <\|message\|>Séamus ó Faoláin Séamus was bored. It was the morning of the first day of the new school year at Gringore - around four am. For a school filled with supernatural beings, there weren't many vampires out. Despite already being there for a day, Séamus hadn't bothered to try and find any other vampires. He knew that there was at least one other - that one being his brother. Séamus decided to use this as a good time to explore the school. Thankfully, most corridors were unlocked, presumably for the use of vampire students, and there were certain rooms that students could use. When he was in a corridor that he thought was empty, he began singing at the top of his voice, "Mr. Brightside". Séamus loved punk and rock from the 80s, 90s, and 00s. Unfortunately for Séamus, music just wasn't the same these days. On the other hand, it was still better than music from the 20s. Just as he was about to go through a set of double doors, a teacher, obviously a vampire, stepped out of her classroom. "Please, be quiet, there are people trying to work," she said with a stern voice. "Sorry, Miss," Séamus apologised. Just as the teacher stepped back into her room, Séamus muttered "Insegnanti stupidi." The teacher turned on her heels, replying, "Ho detto tranquillo." Séamus was shocked that she could speak Italian, and ran out of the building. He saw that it was almost morning, and decided to go to the briefing, and listen to music whilst he waited. --- Ruaidhrí was sitting at his desk on his and his brother's side of the room, reading The Recruit, by Robert Muchamore. He had decided that he should read a book series whilst he was at school, however, with all the free time that he had, he hadn't realised jsuty how quickly he would be able to read the books. It had taken him four hours to read this book so far, and he was nearing the end. At this rate, he would be done with the entire series within a fortnight. Ruaidhrí decided that he had better get some friends, preferably ones that would be able to stay up during the night with him. Whilst he liked his brother, he didn't like how "psychopathic" he could be sometimes. Ruaidhrí knew that there were two other boys on the other side of the room, however they were sleeping, and he hadn't spoken to them yet, so decided that he wouldn't speak to them until the morning. When the sun came up, and Ruaidhrí had just finished his book, he decided to set off to the briefing, wanting to make sure that he got a good seat.</s>	<\|message\|>Morgan James Selwyn Morgan rose with the sun, heading as per usual to an immediate hot shower. Shortly thereafter he was tugging on a simple dark blue button-up shirt and buckling a wide leather belt over dark jeans. A homemade knit black scarf went around his neck, followed by a hooded jacket with a thick trim. He was long used to wearing as much or more, to put something between his back and other people. His shoes were black leather, worn with use but heavy and comfortable. Thus attired, he ducked out of the dorm room and into the hall. There was still time before the orientation, and he wanted to explore a bit. Morgan already knew his way around the buildings to a certain degree, but today he was going out into the forest. Among the trees, he searched for a creek or small river. It didn't take him long to find one, and then find a good spot along it. There was a clearing around a small rocky beach, created as the bed of the waterway shifted over time. With what little time he had left, he made his way back to the Academy proper for the orientation. Morgan fidgeted impatiently the whole time, and exited as quickly as possible. He didn't like having to sit still for so long and was grateful to stretch his legs again afterward. With a quick glance around to the other gathered students, he considered returning to the clearing he had found earlier. One of the falling flyers landed on his head, and he held it long enough to read it before folding it and tucking it into a jacket pocket. It might be a good idea for later, but he was unsure of what to do for the moment.</s>
<\|description\|>Alason Iver Campbell Alason Appearance Seeming by most accounts unremarkable, Alason is but another face in the crowd to most, the only distinguishing features being the beginnings of a fine beard and a rather geometrically defined nose. Beyond this, however, Alason is nothing beyond a brown-haired, brown-eyed white guy scuttling about in a suit with some rather plain, black glasses. Speaking of the suit - for those of you who actually care - on a nearly daily basis Alason wears a suit grading from grey-blue to black, always worn with a sense of business and professionalism. The beard? Perhaps four steps away from pathetic. It hardly covers the face and only barely escapes judgement as mere stubble. Still, none of this is to say that he is particularly unattractive, rather, as aforementioned and as surely will be mentioned countless times more, Alason is neither attractive nor unattractive, neither this nor that, not anything; he merely is, and is quite content in anonymity. Age 31 Gender Male Date of Birth 20 August 1984 Occupation Civil Litigation Lawyer Race Quaestrum Witch Hair & Eye Color Brown Height and Build About 5'10", and ideally proportioned for a human. That is not to say that he has an optimized, hyper-athletic build, but rather that he is neither overweight nor underweight and is by all accounts an average, unremarkable, healthy male. A Brief History The first thing one must notice is the air of calm about her, an air which hardly dissipates when she beckons me over and dismisses the attendants. "I want you to see everything. I want you to understand properly the things that you never could." Cryptic, but after a moment I understand. I take her hand, splay it with her palm to the ceiling, and begin to run my fingers down the fine wrinkles of her hand. I close my eyes. The serene black is stolen from the inside of my eyelids and is immediately replaced with a blinding white. Pain, a pain that I've not felt before; it is as though my innards are retching about, churning and switching positions in some horrific game of musical chairs. A hospital. Doctors. More pain. A child. As the pain begins to give way to the sweet relaxation of endorphins, I hardly notice the passage of time before the newborn is presented to me. I know the face, and yet it is new to me. I love it. It almost takes away the bitter tinge of knowing that my husband is not here, but off doing God knows what in some filthy alley. Almost. Sift through the fluff. A toddler. Cute, but without identity. With the superfluous baby fat gone and the cheekbones beginning to set in properly, one can begin to see the resemblance between him and me. He plays in the yard, but again: where is the father? I head back inside and begin to brew some tea. Oh, I'm crying. My husband hasn't been home in four days, and I don't know where he is. I can't explain to the child though, no, he mustn't know that his father is a deadbeat. He mustn't know that his father is a traitor. He mustn't know that his father has all but abandoned us. He mustn't know that his father drinks, and runs off with human women, enamored by his parlor tricks, to forget. He mustn't know that his father hates his own kind, hates his own self, hates his own wife, hates his own son. He mustn't know that his father is a bastard that deserves nothing short of the stake. Oh, dash, I've accidentally torched the kitchen. I promptly put it out, of course, but cleaning it up in front my son should prove a bit awkward. Ah well, some candy and he'll forget in due time. Some day... some day I'll explain it to him. Sift through the fluff. My son is gone now, off studying English at a university. I'm in a hammock, reading, when I hear footsteps behind me. They do not sound unfriendly, so I turn slowly and with a smile on my face, assuming it to be a neighbor. Shock. Fear quickly bleeds into confusion as I look upon the well-groomed, nervously happy visage of my child's father, my... husband. "Why are you here?" "I know that I haven't been good to you. I know that. But... Lorna, I want to be a part of your life again. I want to see my son.' I'm torn. On one hand, I can see that he means it. In proper clothes, groomed, apologetic and empathetic... How can I say no? "No." Oh, that's how. "I'm sorry, but you had your chance. We haven't seen you in seventeen years; you chose to not be a part of his life and now you have to live with the consequences of that choice." "But-" "No." Sift thro- I'm jerked out of the memoryscape, sweaty and hyperventilating. With my mother's hand on my wrist, I slow down and, after a moment, stand straight. A pause. Eye contact. I head for the door. "Where are you going?" I pause again. Where am I going? No sense in merely storming off because I'm angry at my father for his negligence and my mother for her stubbornness. But, after a moment of thought, that's not all I'm doing. "I'm going to find my father's phone number. The healer gets back from his vacation today; the flight should be in by 4:50. He'll be here by the end of the day to take care of your lung problem." I exit my mother's home without contest. She knows it would be futile. — Two years ago Family/Relationships Father: Mr. Douglass Campbell - Distant, in regular contact Mother: Dr. Lorna Campbell - Local, in regular contact Grandparents: All deceased Paternal aunt: Ms. Moira Smith - Distant, in holiday contact Maternal aunt: Mrs. Saundra Wilson - Distant, in holiday contact Maternal aunt: Ms. Roberta Brown - Local, in holiday contact Maternal uncle: Mr. Robert Wilson - Distant, in holiday contact</s> <\|message\|>Ariel Guinevere Holmes Sapphira, enchanting name, Jack thought to himself. She didn't seem to react well to being complimented on her looks, so why compliment a name she also had little say in receiving? He'd figure out something better to compliment. Maybe. Some people were tough reads, but he was getting better at figuring them out. Reading people, figuring out their strengths and weaknesses, their preferences, was important when one needed to network. Especially if one needed to do so with individuals that might already be biased against him for the way his parents treated other races; he might use people, but he never did half the awful things they did. "Don't sound so excited for it, Sapphira," he said with a chuckle. Sure, she said yes, but it sounded more apathetic than an actual decision to continue to converse. Nonetheless, he started off toward the cafeteria. He at least knew where that was, even if he'd need to figure out where his classes would be. His hands stayed in his pockets, fingers idly playing with the change he kept in his pockets. It was the only reason he carried pocket change - just so he wouldn't absently touch anyone while talking to someone; Nola had suggested it back when she realized how often he did it, and considering now he wasn't around just her and Ariel for most of his day he wasn't about to start any unwanted conflicts for a simple misunderstanding. He couldn't, however, avoid trying to get to know her more while they walked the short distance to the cafeteria. "What lead you to want to be a Guardian? Being an elf, you've probably been alive for far longer than I have, so how long did it take for you to decide you wanted to do it?" He glanced over at his walking partner after he spoke, then held the door to the cafeteria open for her when they arrived at it.</s> <\|message\|>Penelope le Fay Cafeteria, town, it made no difference to her. Though it was times like these that she considered getting better, stronger, with her ability to travel through shadows. Sure, it was kind of cheating, but who wouldn't mind getting from point A to point B quicker? Especially if it was a walk into town from campus. Maybe that would be the area she worked on strengthening this year given she had little desire to figure out if she could get strong enough to summon undead or command vampires - the first might be useful, though creepy, and the latter...she knew enough about vampires to know she wouldn't want to find out how one would react to finding out they had been controlled. Penelope folded the flier up and shoved it into her back pocket while she walked with Tony. She preferred settling up plans right away than let them stagnate. It helped make sure it wasn't forgotten. Deciding what to eat was always so tough. Mostly because she never seemed to have an appetite. Considering all she had was a protein bar before a strenuous work out, she knew it was about time for an actual meal. So she got in line behind Tony and picked out a sandwich and a banana. Penelope had spotted the Wolfpack when they exited the line, but was going to ignore it until Tony kindly pointed them out. She did her best not to scowl, because there were a few that Tony was friendly with. But it was a tough thing to do - keep from matching glares with the upper rung members. The best she could do to not glare was keep a placid look on her face while making eye contact with the ones glaring. There was half a cafeteria between them and the Fitzroy Wolfpack, but that didn't really mean much when it came to the way shifters could move. She set her shoulders, leveling her gaze with Conrad - a member that lost out on being lieutenant to the current one, and the one member she butted with the most after her freshman year after he tried more than putting moves on her at a party - as she continued on toward a different table. "Probably best to not pick a fight with a sorry lot of sods so early in the day." Being on school grounds - they learned from experience - wouldn't matter much in the terms of explaining why two guardian applicants - auxiliary members to boot - got into a physical conflict with others from the student body. "Here's a good one," Penelope said as she rounded then sat at a table. It had the benefit of being well away from the wolfpack as well as being close enough to a wall to make sure she could see the whole cafeteria. One too many fights had her overly cautious and not wanting to give anyone a chance to get the drop on her from behind. At least, no one she had the chance of seeing. Maybe she'd eventually kick the habit, but it would doubtfully be while she was attending Gringore. She hid her glances around the room as best she could from others, but she knew Tony would notice. He always noticed. So she decided to make conversation with him between small bites of her sandwich. "So, excited for your final year? Looking forward to going to Rome for the test? That's coming up next summer, isn't it?" She knew it was coming up soon, before she was finished training here, and that she'd have to wait at least a year or two to take the test herself.</s> <\|message\|>Sapphira Elvron Lux "Don't sound so excited for it, Sapphira," he said with a chuckle. "Sorry," Sapphira replied to Jack. She was admittedly a bit amused by how easily he threw sarcasm back at her. Other than the occasional eye roll, she typically tried to refrain from being too "sassy" as her mother had called it. Some people are more easily offended, but Jack didn't seem to be one of those people. Nevertheless, she would try her best to be well-mannered towards him. She walked beside him as they headed towards the cafeteria. She had to slow down her long strides to match his more leisurely pace. She noted that they were similar in height, with him being only two inches taller than her 5'10" stature. "What lead you to want to be a Guardian? Being an elf, you've probably been alive for far longer than I have, so how long did it take for you to decide you wanted to do it?" he asked. "I was born into a long line of Guardians, so it is really all I know. Both my parents were Guardians, though my mother stopped going on missions when she was pregnant with me and thereafter. My mother homeschooled me and taught me the majority of what I know today. Given the way she raised me, I never really wanted to be anything but a Guardian," Sapphira explained. Truthfully she felt a pang of sadness in her heart at talking about her parents in the past tense, though she was skilled at not showing the emotion outwardly. She didn't think the sadness and anger from losing them would ever go away, no matter how long she lived. Instead of letting it destroy her, she worked hard to let it fuel her. She gave him a grateful smile when he courteously opened the door for her. She walked through the doorway and let her gaze take in her new surroundings. She recognized some of the people, namely the red headed woman with dark magic and the telekinetic Asian man. Her gaze then landed on the Fitzroy Wolfpack seated in the back corner. She had barely entered the cafeteria, and they were already brazenly checking her out! Her eyes narrowed slightly, the characteristic sign that she was getting annoyed or feeling threatened. She returned her gaze to Jack before she had a chance to do anything uncivil. It was best that she not start a fight unless utterly necessary. @Nightfury Kat</s>	<\|message\|>Alason Iver Campbell Alas on shook his head and grinned. Always on the move. With a bit of a huff, he rose from the table and followed his new acquaintance at a walking pace not bothering to run after her but maintaining sight. He was just beginning to worry that Anwen might fully disappear from his range of vision when she seemed to stop at the base of a particularly hardy tree. Rationalizing it to be her home; or just something she found the littlest bit interesting, given her characterization thus far; he began walking a touch more quickly before eventually reaching the base of the tree. Looking up the colossal trunk, he wondered how someone could live like this. The isolation, of course, would drive one mad, but also it just seems so… "Cramped." He looked down at the expectant Anwen, resting in the dirt and roots as though it were nothing. She seemed to be allocating him some time to investigate, so he went back to investigating the tree. Running his hand up the trunk, he imagined the decades it must have taken to bring this beautiful creature to its current shape. Broadening his gaze to he surrounding vines and roots, he saw the little ecosystem at work: a miniature garden of Eden all working around a nymph with no idea how impressive—how beautiful—her world was. "Thanks for bringing me out here." But, Alason began to wonder, that begs another question. "Why did you bring me out here?"</s>
<\|description\|>Alason Iver Campbell Alason Appearance Seeming by most accounts unremarkable, Alason is but another face in the crowd to most, the only distinguishing features being the beginnings of a fine beard and a rather geometrically defined nose. Beyond this, however, Alason is nothing beyond a brown-haired, brown-eyed white guy scuttling about in a suit with some rather plain, black glasses. Speaking of the suit - for those of you who actually care - on a nearly daily basis Alason wears a suit grading from grey-blue to black, always worn with a sense of business and professionalism. The beard? Perhaps four steps away from pathetic. It hardly covers the face and only barely escapes judgement as mere stubble. Still, none of this is to say that he is particularly unattractive, rather, as aforementioned and as surely will be mentioned countless times more, Alason is neither attractive nor unattractive, neither this nor that, not anything; he merely is, and is quite content in anonymity. Age 31 Gender Male Date of Birth 20 August 1984 Occupation Civil Litigation Lawyer Race Quaestrum Witch Hair & Eye Color Brown Height and Build About 5'10", and ideally proportioned for a human. That is not to say that he has an optimized, hyper-athletic build, but rather that he is neither overweight nor underweight and is by all accounts an average, unremarkable, healthy male. A Brief History The first thing one must notice is the air of calm about her, an air which hardly dissipates when she beckons me over and dismisses the attendants. "I want you to see everything. I want you to understand properly the things that you never could." Cryptic, but after a moment I understand. I take her hand, splay it with her palm to the ceiling, and begin to run my fingers down the fine wrinkles of her hand. I close my eyes. The serene black is stolen from the inside of my eyelids and is immediately replaced with a blinding white. Pain, a pain that I've not felt before; it is as though my innards are retching about, churning and switching positions in some horrific game of musical chairs. A hospital. Doctors. More pain. A child. As the pain begins to give way to the sweet relaxation of endorphins, I hardly notice the passage of time before the newborn is presented to me. I know the face, and yet it is new to me. I love it. It almost takes away the bitter tinge of knowing that my husband is not here, but off doing God knows what in some filthy alley. Almost. Sift through the fluff. A toddler. Cute, but without identity. With the superfluous baby fat gone and the cheekbones beginning to set in properly, one can begin to see the resemblance between him and me. He plays in the yard, but again: where is the father? I head back inside and begin to brew some tea. Oh, I'm crying. My husband hasn't been home in four days, and I don't know where he is. I can't explain to the child though, no, he mustn't know that his father is a deadbeat. He mustn't know that his father is a traitor. He mustn't know that his father has all but abandoned us. He mustn't know that his father drinks, and runs off with human women, enamored by his parlor tricks, to forget. He mustn't know that his father hates his own kind, hates his own self, hates his own wife, hates his own son. He mustn't know that his father is a bastard that deserves nothing short of the stake. Oh, dash, I've accidentally torched the kitchen. I promptly put it out, of course, but cleaning it up in front my son should prove a bit awkward. Ah well, some candy and he'll forget in due time. Some day... some day I'll explain it to him. Sift through the fluff. My son is gone now, off studying English at a university. I'm in a hammock, reading, when I hear footsteps behind me. They do not sound unfriendly, so I turn slowly and with a smile on my face, assuming it to be a neighbor. Shock. Fear quickly bleeds into confusion as I look upon the well-groomed, nervously happy visage of my child's father, my... husband. "Why are you here?" "I know that I haven't been good to you. I know that. But... Lorna, I want to be a part of your life again. I want to see my son.' I'm torn. On one hand, I can see that he means it. In proper clothes, groomed, apologetic and empathetic... How can I say no? "No." Oh, that's how. "I'm sorry, but you had your chance. We haven't seen you in seventeen years; you chose to not be a part of his life and now you have to live with the consequences of that choice." "But-" "No." Sift thro- I'm jerked out of the memoryscape, sweaty and hyperventilating. With my mother's hand on my wrist, I slow down and, after a moment, stand straight. A pause. Eye contact. I head for the door. "Where are you going?" I pause again. Where am I going? No sense in merely storming off because I'm angry at my father for his negligence and my mother for her stubbornness. But, after a moment of thought, that's not all I'm doing. "I'm going to find my father's phone number. The healer gets back from his vacation today; the flight should be in by 4:50. He'll be here by the end of the day to take care of your lung problem." I exit my mother's home without contest. She knows it would be futile. — Two years ago Family/Relationships Father: Mr. Douglass Campbell - Distant, in regular contact Mother: Dr. Lorna Campbell - Local, in regular contact Grandparents: All deceased Paternal aunt: Ms. Moira Smith - Distant, in holiday contact Maternal aunt: Mrs. Saundra Wilson - Distant, in holiday contact Maternal aunt: Ms. Roberta Brown - Local, in holiday contact Maternal uncle: Mr. Robert Wilson - Distant, in holiday contact</s> <\|message\|>Penelope le Fay He could have been at least a little more subtle about it, Penelope found herself thinking at the insinuated trouble the night might bring. It wasn't like she was planning for trouble, but she wasn't exactly shy about getting into it. She knew it, Tony knew it, worst was that the Pack knew it too. Her uncle Daithi had been pretty direct in his request she stop getting into fights on a moral ground, and she was trying but it was a hard instinct to combat. Something about stubbornness and hotheadedness being inherited traits; it was a statement she heard often in teasing considering her father's nature. A sigh escaped her, and Penelope couldn't help but nod. "All right. I promise. I'll do better to ignore trespasses that aren't against me," she said. It would be hard to turn a blind eye to a lot of what went on at Fitzroy parties, but she'd make a conscious effort to at least. "Though we might luck out and it might be my uncle to come break up whatever. He swept the fight from my freshman year under the rug after all. And you could always approach Connall about one if you can't get one from the Chief or Professor Bianchi. He's in good standing, and he's still teaching Guardian Protocol. I understand going elsewhere, but he'd write you a letter if you asked." Yes, it would be better to get a letter from someone that is strictly involved on a professional basis, but Connall wasn't Tony's family. Friendships shouldn't influence that sort of thing, right? "You need to drive. Daithi took my license for a month - it's not suspended, he just physically has it - for getting into another fight with Conrad over the summer. In my defense, he started it...But that's neither here nor there. Point is, I can't get caught driving without it."</s> <\|message\|>Ariel Guinevere Holmes Ariel had waited for everyone - or at least, for the crowd - to leave the auditorium after the lecture. She had a lot of useful information, as far as she was concerned anyways. It would have been better to sit with Jack and leave with him, but he seemed to be taking Nola's instructions to branch out to heart. She, on the other hand, was quite content playing it safe and sticking to herself. She had the map of the school grounds sketched out based on what the projection had shown, but she wasn't about to trust her ability to get to class on time following that map alone. Like most others she had seen at the assembly, she held onto her class schedule and searched around for the appropriate rooms. Most of her classes were related to learning more about other races; there was a vastly different outlook from what Nola taught her in the past couple years and what her parents had. She wanted to know more about each - as far as classes could teach her anyways - if it meant she might be able to better aide using her magical capabilities. Mixed in were more spell oriented classes as well. Nola cautioned against such a full schedule, which was the only reason she wasn't also taking any Ancient Languages courses this year; Ariel liked keeping busy, but that was too much as far as Nola was concerned. With classes mostly found - one or two were at least in the same building as others and her schedule allowed for time to get lost in between courses - Ariel wasn't quite sure what else to do with herself. So she opted to end her travels in the library. Staying was busy was more habit than necessity like it seemed to be for her twin. Which was why she was searching for a book - she would know what she was looking for once she found it - to fill her quite necessary hours after finishing the few books she had brought with her.</s> <\|message\|>Sapphira Elvron Lux "Sounds like a lot of training. You must be pretty good at what goes into being a Guardian by now. Why not go off to take the test already?" he asked as Sapphira returned her gaze to him. Why hadn't she? Well, she wasn't fully grown until she was 100, but after that… She was pulled from her mental contemplation by his next statement. "Here, let's go grab some food. My treat." Then he quickly clarified himself. "As a friend thing. If you don't mind, that is." His sudden change of subject caught her a bit off guard, and it took her a moment to respond. "Sure." Her mind then drifted back to his previous question. What stopped her from taking the test years ago? After she was fully grown, she planned to take the test but…Hunters, they sent her life into disarray. First, by killing her father then her mother. The realization hit her like a knife to the heart. She felt her emotions change in that instance, but it wasn't sadness that was threatening to come to the surface. It was anger. Her eyes narrowed instinctively. Her jaw clenched, and her eyes seemed to darken the more the anger inside her surfaced. If one wished to completely infuriate her, hurt the people she cares about, then you will rue the day you ever met her. But she realized that now was not the time for vengeance or for justice. She was simply reacting to the darkness and pain of her past. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, reining in the anger as she had often practiced. "Hunters—" she began, with an edge to her voice that she couldn't quite hide. The very word felt like poison on her lips. "They are the reason I kept putting off taking the test. They murdered both my parents. I was left to pick up the pieces of my life and the lives of the little Supernatural community I called home." @Nightfury Kat</s>	<\|message\|>Alason Iver Campbell In retrospect, he hadn't given much thought as to how Anwen reached the living quarters of her tree. He had considered that perhaps there was an entrance at ground level, invisible to him, or that maybe she would climb the vines with the strength of an olympian gymnast. In any event, while he had assumed that there was some exceptionally strange mechanism for getting into the actual 'home' section of the nymph's little private condominium, he couldn't manage the tact necessary to keep his mouth from opening just a centimeter or so when the bark actually peeled off of the tree itself, revealing a cantilever stairwell. She seemed so chipper, inviting him in, seemingly oblivious--what else is new?--to the sheer oddness of it all. Now, while surely in his lifetime Alason had seen his fair share of 'odd' events, he mostly kept to himself and his coven, a bunch similarly preoccupied with maintaining privacy, subtlety, and a courtly air of respect for those to be respected, and hauteur towards all others. In any event, after this brief pause for thought on the situation at hand, Alason cautiously prodded the base stair with his foot. Applying some weight to it, finding it sturdy, looking to Anwen, back to the stair, a bit more weight, all of it now, and he began to ascend, taking each step a bit more quickly and readily than the last. Upon finding himself at the top, he looked to Anwen, and then back to the tree, neither wishing to breach standard social regulations by inviting himself in, nor wishing to unwittingly enter into what, for all he knew, could be the lair of some plant-deer-bear-man abomination crafted up by Anwen in a passing moment of morning boredom which she had forgotten about in all of her... Anwen-ness. "After you."</s>
<\|description\|>Julian Marino Nicknames/Alias/AKA: (He calls himself Julian, but he's known as "the big guy" around Whitecross.) Age: 20 Gender: Male DOB: May 13, 1996 Occupation: Student / Part-time stocker and cashier at Oryana Grocery Race: Shifter Hair Color: Dark brown Eye Color: Gold Height and Build: 5'11", muscular yet lean. Other Appearance: Julian uses hair gel to keep his hair spiked out of his face. He likes to wear well-fitting thin hoodies and T-shirts that show his athletic build, along with skinny jeans and worn black Converse. History/bio: It is mythologized that King Lycaon of Arkadia infuriated Zeus, the god of the sky, by wanting to serve him a slaughtered child, his son Nyctimus being one of the options. Zeus' angry response was to bring lightning bolts upon fifty of Lycaon's sons and turn Lycaon and Nyctimus into wolves. The descendants of Nyctimus became Shifters, able to shift in and out of their wolf forms at will, while the descendants of Lycaon found themselves as Lycanthropes, cursed with uncontrollable transformations under the full moon. Shifters hated the Lycanthropes and still do, having the goal of demolishing the race. Nyctimus' daughter, Phylonome, gave birth to twin sons, one of whom founded and populated Rome. Among his descendents were shipbuilders, who joined the trade business and sailed in the modern-day Mediterranean Sea. These people gained the family name Marinus ("of the sea"). In the 1500s, the Italian Wars resulted in the Italian city states spending a period of time under Spanish rule. A few families named Marinus immigrated to Spain and changed their names to Marino. When news came of a new land discovered, a few Marinos set out on ships the Americas. One family began their new life in what is now known as Florida. It was known from the moment Julian was conceived what he might be. Julian was born in a private hospital in Ocala, Florida, on May 13, 1996 to specialized doctors. DNA tests confirmed that Julian was indeed a shifter, although his bright golden eyes, differentiating him from non-affected brown-eyed family members, was enough indication. Appropriate personal and medical arrangements were made. Julian was an only child and lived with his parents in Ocala. His father, Edward Marino, was the senior manager of a company that sold furniture and household appliances. He received discounts as well as a good salary, and filled the entire apartment with furniture and appliances from that specific brand. Being loyal to his work, yet quite the proud person that he was, one of Edward's favourite things was when guests noticed the uniformity of everything in the house. He would often position the items so that the brand name was visible, and try to drop subtle comments into conversations about how much he liked using such-and-such an appliance from this brand. If guests were so interested as to ask about it, the resulting conversation would often revolve around how Edward worked for such a great company. He wore brown contact lenses to change the colour of his eyes, even though they were hardly an unnatural shade of golden brown. His mother, Roisin Wilson-Marino, was a second-generation Irish-American. She used to teach general science in a middle school, known among the students for giving out relatively simple assignments for easy marks while still being somewhat of an effective teacher. When Julian came, she decided to work from home and provide science lessons online, available to the middle schools of Ocala. This gave her time to give Julian her undivided attention. Julian seemed like a regular temperamental child in his youth. He attended Maplewood Elementary School and developed a knack for appearing to befriend loners. He loved to talk and was seen as a natural leader. He was overly-sensitive to criticism, throwing tantrums in class and expecting people to comfort him. He was also a jealous child, getting angry if he perceived someone as better than him at something and arguing if he lost a game. Although he was small and skinny no matter how much he ate, he had above-average strength and speed. He excelled at all sports and never seemed to get hurt. He also had a suspiciously good sense of hearing and smell, sometimes making him feel overwhelmed. It was decided that music lessons would help him control his attention to at least sounds, and he took up guitar lessons. It took four tries to find a guitar teacher patient enough not to drop him. Perhaps picking up from his father, he was proud of his heightened abilities and senses and liked to show them off. His first shift conveniently happened in the summer between elementary school and middle school, in the middle of an intense dream. When Julian woke up the next morning, he felt different in the bed. He screamed loudly when he saw what he had become. His mother ran into his room with a worried face that was immediately replaced with relief, confusing Julian. That day, his mother told him the legend of the Shifters and the Lycanthropes and his family history. Since Julian had no clue about any of this, it took him a few years to fully understand everything, but this only served to confirm his belief that he was special. He was sworn to secrecy, only deciding to keep this oath after Roisin explained the family's potentially doomed fate if the secret was let out. He didn't want to bring any negative reputation and harm to himself. His father revealed his own wolf form and took to training Julian how to control it, taking him to the Ocala National Forest to practice hunting and wolf behaviour. Out of fear for revealing the family secret, Julian's parents hired several tutors to home-school Julian through middle school and high school. Most of the tutors grew to dislike Julian for his arrogance, but kept coming for the pay. His friends from elementary school, the young loners, had had enough of Julian's controlling ways and happily cut off connections from him when they stopped going to the same school. Julian denied his isolation and simply dismissed these old classmates as unworthy of his friendship. He selected new, worthy "friends" in online chats and video games, meeting up with the ones in his area to attend events and party. He had a girlfriend for his last two years in high school, a tall blonde named Lily Flynn. She lived with an abusive family and was used to neglect enough to be with him, using her time out with him more as an escape from her home than anything else. A plan long in the works, Julian's parents sent Julian off to Whitecross to attend Gringore Academy after high school. They explained to him that he would not only received a college education, but would learn about his powers as well. Infatuated by the opportunity to finally show his powers to the world, Julian promptly broke up with Lily. He moved alone to Whitecross two months after he turned 18 and took residence in the dormitories of Gringore Academy. He hardly needed any time to adjust to this new isolation. Being outgoing and an extrovert, Julian had no trouble busying himself with studying, parties, events, and a part-time job at Oryana Grocery, socializing whenever and however he pleased. He has developed a crush on a same-aged floor-mate, a witch named Susanna Lim, who he has tried unsuccessfully to seduce by talking about how special he is. Family/Relationships: Edward Marino - Father. Shifter. 52. Roisin Wilson-Marino - Mother. Human. 49. Lily Flynn - Ex-girlfriend. Student at Hillsborough Community College. 20. Susanna Lim - Crush. Witch. Student at Gringore Academy. Floor-mate. 20. Sam & Alex - Students at Gringore Academy. New floor-mates. 18. Other/Extra: Julian is aware that Lycanthropes are the enemy, but hasn't had much to do with them yet. Julian enjoys talking to people (about himself), working out at the gym (especially in front of the mirrored wall), playing all sports, and being in situations where he can take the lead. Julian also tends to give people nicknames no matter how well he knows them, especially if they're also called Julian.</s> <\|message\|>Alason Iver Campbell Alas on shook his head and grinned. Always on the move. With a bit of a huff, he rose from the table and followed his new acquaintance at a walking pace not bothering to run after her but maintaining sight. He was just beginning to worry that Anwen might fully disappear from his range of vision when she seemed to stop at the base of a particularly hardy tree. Rationalizing it to be her home; or just something she found the littlest bit interesting, given her characterization thus far; he began walking a touch more quickly before eventually reaching the base of the tree. Looking up the colossal trunk, he wondered how someone could live like this. The isolation, of course, would drive one mad, but also it just seems so… "Cramped." He looked down at the expectant Anwen, resting in the dirt and roots as though it were nothing. She seemed to be allocating him some time to investigate, so he went back to investigating the tree. Running his hand up the trunk, he imagined the decades it must have taken to bring this beautiful creature to its current shape. Broadening his gaze to he surrounding vines and roots, he saw the little ecosystem at work: a miniature garden of Eden all working around a nymph with no idea how impressive—how beautiful—her world was. "Thanks for bringing me out here." But, Alason began to wonder, that begs another question. "Why did you bring me out here?"</s> <\|message\|>Sapphira Elvron Lux Loki was woken up to a high pitch "kewee-kewee-kewee" coming from outside his apartment. He let out an annoyed groan and rolled out from under his sheets. He stopped to let his eyes adjust to the darkness as soon as his feet hit the floor beside his bed. It was definitely too early for any sane person to be up. His eyes quickly adjusted into his night vision, and he sleepily walked from his bedroom to the adjacent living room + kitchen. He threw open the screen door leading to the small balcony. His African crowned eagle Syxtar Shade was perched on the balcony railing and abruptly stopped its annoying "wake up call." "What?" Loki snapped as the cool early morning air bit at his bare chest. Shade cocked its head to the side and gazed at him with its piercing yellow eyes. "You want to go hunting. That's why you woke me up so early, right?" he questioned. Shade let out a sharp cry that grated on his ears. "Okay, okay. Hush up before someone hears you." He turned around and went back inside, leaving the screen door open. He took a quick shower; the bathroom like the rest of the apartment was small and unassuming. It wasn't completely desirable, but it beat living in the dorms at Gringore Academy. He tried that his first year. Tried being the operative word. He was close to murdering his obnoxious freshman roommates. After his shower, he looked through his closet for something suitable to wear in the woods. His closet was filled to the capacity with dark colored clothes, a large portion of which were suits. He pulled out a pair of dark blue jeans, a burgundy long sleeve shirt, black combat boots, a navy hunting vest, and a watch to complete the outfit. He grabbed one of the black suits and dress shoes to put in his car so he could possibly change into it later. When he was done getting ready, he peeked his head back outside. "You know the drill, Shade. Meet you at Gringore," he exclaimed before shutting the screen door. He then grabbed his car keys and headed out. While he drove, Shade flew high above, staying hidden the best it could. Loki and Shade ended up spending hours hunting and exploring in the forest and fields around Gringore. Shade was a born hunter and could dexterously maneuver its 5' wingspan. It caught multiple rodents with ease and ate several of its catches. By the time they started heading back to the academy, Loki was in a better mood, and Shade had a decent breakfast.</s> <\|message\|>Kideyoshi, Tony Tony sat across from his friend, he knew she didn't like turning her back towards others. He on the other hand had no problems with such. Not that he was extremely trusting of the student body at Gringore, he trusted his sense of intuition in public. And at the very least, he had Penny to keep an eye on his back while they ate. She always looked around- she used to try and hide it from him, but realized that it was a futile gesture a long time ago. Tony didn't have extensive abilities like Penelope or some of the other potential Guardians, while he had extensive control over his own telekinesis, he didn't have incredible strength, immunity to poison, near-immortality; rather, he had a level of intuition and sense of people that gave him an edge on the other applicants. "So, excited for your final year? Looking forward to going to Rome for the test? That's coming up next summer, isn't it?" Tony nodded, "Yeah, its a little unnerving. I still need to get a recommendation letter too. I'm not allowed to ask my dad for one, so I'm stuck asking Chief Évora or Professor Bianchi." Tony replied, inbetween bites of his sandwhich. "I'll probably ask the chief tomorrow- so let's try to get through tonight smoothly, yeah?" Getting in trouble right before asking a staff member for a recommendation- regardless of whether or not the staff liked him or not, was in some bad taste. "Anyway, the Fitzroy party, you wanna drive, or me?"</s>	<\|message\|>Julian Marino Julian flexed his arms in response, trying to make them as big as Séamus' arms. He worked hard to gain muscle on his naturally lean body, and took pride that Séamus had noticed. "Let's do some weight training. We can spot each other." As they operated the machinery and lifted weights, Julian saw that Séamus could lift a lot more than him, but comforted himself by reminding himself that Séamus was naturally much bigger and taller. He couldn't stop his jealousy. "Did you do anything special to get so big? Any special exercises or routines or anything?" He listened greedily for a response, imagining his head on top of a bodybuilder's physique. As he followed Séamus' workout, he tried and failed to hide his exhaustion behind excuses and snarky comments.</s>
<\|description\|>Parael "Magnus" Speaking my true name might melt your brain and the brain of anyone around, so I try to avoid it. Humans and supernaturals call me Parry. Age SLAP Rude! But I can say it's decidedly more than 6,000 years. Gender Oh, how cute! You think that's a thing! I guess you could call me a 'he' if it really bothers you that much. Breed/Species/Type/Lineage I abhor the term 'Angel.' It applies too many labels and carries too many connotations. We prefer to think of ourselves as Celestials. But then again, Angel does adequately describe my primary features- wings, fire sword, stunningly beautiful looks and tastes. As far as the other supernaturals go, I let them assume I'm a Magi of limited power and even less intelligence, or whatever they prefer to think. Coming right out and saying "I'm an Angel" tends to lead to uncomfortable questions like "Why did you let my brother die," and "Can God make a sandwich so big he couldn't eat it?" (The answers to those questions being, "It's complicated" and "Yes, and then they'd finish it, too!") Plus Celestial blood tends to do crazy shit like make magi powers go nuclear or turn Vampires human, and I have no intention of being anything other than a voluntary donor of my own bodily fluids. Talents I'm going to be very, very honest for once- I kinda forgot a lot of what makes my kind tick. I misplaced a lot of my ability to warp reality and smite the wicked back in Babylon when I worked in a temple of Ishtar as a part-timer. Man, between smoking premium herb and all the sacred prostitution... it makes you wish for that old time religion. But I kept most of the important bits! Mainly, my ability to create Runic Wards that I can tie to physical structures and a few items. How do they work? See, this line in the dirt? And this can of mortal mace? Imagine you want to kill everyone across that line. Now cross it and spray yourself in the eyeballs. Here, I'll do it for you. See? Yes I'm going to use the whole can! You didn't step back across the line! Other times I can use them to neutralize magic energy. It doesn't turn you human, just kind of turns the mojo down from an 11 to an 8. It's definitely useful for keeping the kids from nuking their neighbors. I'm Solar-Powered, so I don't need to eat to keep going. Yay, waistline! Finally, there's the Wings. They're ethereal for the most part- I had to clip them when I took my initial vacation. Had to navigate through the markets of Babylon without knocking over every stall. Can I call them up? Yeah. Can I use them to fly? Sure. Will I? I mean... they're kind of a dead giveaway as to what I am. So Hells no. History: So the official story that I tell everyone, human and otherwise, is that I came into town a few years ago and set up shop, moving away from sunny California. That's usually enough for both sides. Done and done. Where I really come from? I guess you could say the upper Heavens. Paradise. Nirvana. The Clockmaker's Workshop. However you want to call it, the center of the Celestial Bureaucracy. It got tiring. I can't remember if I was filing reports or fighting demons, but I just knew I needed a break. I was talking to Murael while on assignment about how I needed some time off. Mur recommended I go take a hike through the Pyrenees or visit Babylon for a week or two. Live a little. See some of the things we were fighting for up close. I took Mur up on it. I mean, Sargon was an interesting ruler and it was the region to be at the time, so I clipped my wings, stashed my sword, and down I went. But, you know, I get distracted by things. Namely, silk with pink and purple dye. It was my original weakness. I stayed in the markets, found work with Ishtar's temple as an acolyte, did some excellent smoking, became the number one temple prostitute of the cult, and a few years later I kind of decided I wanted to see the next city. And the next. And the next. I got to New Camden a few years ago, set up shop like I usually do. Little Angels Day Care (real original, I know) on the city's north side. I got a permit for the building through de Lacy, then set up shop and did my thing. Diapers and playtime on weekdays, then a binge on new and interesting ways to enjoy drugs and sex on the weekends. Somewhere along the way, de Lacy caught wind of what I actually am and I started giving him a bit of blood every month as a tithe. He didn't share the source with anyone, but it gave the impression he either had a lot more power or a lot more money than he really did. I'm not too worried, though. He'll eventually burn out on the stuff. One day he's fine and dandy king of the court, the next there's a pants-wettingly huge crisis, he reaches for three bottles of liquid raw Celestial power, and it's "Look at me, ye poor mortals, and despair!" He'll cast a fireball, and he turn into a pillar of flame and ash. Along with half a city block. Then I'll pack up and head out. I saw it before the last time I was in Chicago. I think that was... '71? '72? No, I mean 1871. Anyway, I know my punch-card shows I'm seriously tardy with the crew upstairs but nobody has come to collect me yet, so I think I'll hit Chicago next. Or Detroit. Whichever one is safer. As a Celestial I know what happens after death, so that's no biggie. It's knowing I'll have to answer for that missed time on my punch card that scares the crap out of me. Do you know how long I'll have to work to get 4,000 years worth of Vacation days? Psychological Profile: My last girlfriend said I get distracted by material things too easily. Or maybe that was Charlie- he never complained about what I was buying, just that I was buying stuff. I can't help myself though! Upstairs, we got the flaming swords, white toga-things, and the occasional instrument. You mortals are so... creative! I just want to try everything out! I also have a soft spot for kids, especially supernatural ones. It sucks being told everything you have to do at every hour of the day, then add the fact that you may or may not be empowered by forces beyond your control? Yeah, you're in for a roller coaster ride, honey! Possessions: Gucci bag, Tom Ford suit, about a dozen different Hilfiger jeans, a Motorola Dynatac 800x Cell Phone- oh. Oh, you mean... I have the Flaming Sword stashed somewhere. It tends to slice various demons and chaos entities, and can start small forest fires if I leave it unsheathed at a camp site. What? Don't look at me like that! We didn't have a lighter, and it's hard to have a... ahem... friendly gathering in the woods with a few other friends when there's no warmth or light. I don't even use it that often! Like, ever. Mages get glittery eyed when they look at it and witches tend to get too friendly with me just to get a hand on the thing. Aside from that? I have a Gucci Diaper Bag of Holding! It opens to a storage unit in Wyoming where I keep most of the things I need for my day job. Yes, and: Rusty is a good guy! Totally fun, hooked me up with a weekend's worth of drugs to party through my yearly "What are the mortals snorting this decade" party. And he let me borrow his bike one day to pick up a baby Fae changeling that was stuck in a car wreck on the interstate outside town. Mom and Dad were alright but it was a dicey thing for a few days. Only took a bottle of Jack Daniels and one favor as yet to be collected to get the bike. But I'm a glorified baby sitter for supernaturals. I change diapers and let the grown ups make money to pay their tithes. Far as he knows, I'm just a useful Magi. What could a biker werewolf possibly want from me? Besides, after I returned the bike- the look on his face when he revved the engine and the exhaust spat a glitter cloud? Totally. Worth. It. Location of Note: Spring Eternal (Former Discotheque, now a... whatever-the-kids-listen to-club) Notable Person: Louie "Lireth" Burgher A fact everyone knows about this place: The place is a front for a Faerie court. It paid tribute to de Lacy like everyone else, but if you want anything from coke, to coke, to Pixie Dust, Louie can hook you up! I first tried Primo Bam Bam here and holy crap did I wreck that disco ball! Location of Note: Little Angels Day Care Notable Person: Yours truly, Parry Magnus! A fact everyone knows about this place: I run the place on the cheap for the supernaturals less able to make money off their abilities. It helps having a safe, cheap location to drop your kids off while you make money stocking shelves because you weren't blessed with the power to turn dust into gold.</s> <\|message\|>Parael "Magnus" Peace and dancing would have to wait, it seemed. By the time Parry got back to the playroom and the dancing lights of the Disco ball, the knocks had stopped and the booming kicks of a biker werewolf who really, really wanted to talk began. Fine, he'd make time for the biker. Parry crossed beneath the Heart Crystal hanging in the hallway, expelled a small cloud of smoke, and looked at the guests in his living room- he wasn't sure if they were all real or imagined quite yet. By the time the buzz cleared his system, he'd have much clearer vision. "Ladies and gentlemen, party's over. I have an urgent visitor. Please make your way out of my mind and into the kitchen." Spinning on his heel, Parry met Rusty halfway through the hall and gave his best smile. "Well hello, big bad wolf! I think I'm done huffing and puffing for the night, but I will be happy to buy from you later today. If you could give de Lacy a message for me on your way back, though- he asked for an amulet against undead. I neglected to let him know the one I gave him was for use against Peruvian mummies. I don't think it matters, but I figure the thing was for peace of mind. de Lacy is more paranoid than smart. "But anyway, what can I do for you?"</s> <\|message\|>Antonio Victor Barnes "Yeah, well it definitely doesn't work on whatever this guy is. Nemsemet just wiped out Caradoc de Lacy and most of his posse single-handed, along with some of the hanger-ons. I barely got my ass out of there intact. I -was- riding out of town, but something fucking stopped me in the middle of the road. I need a sorcerer to look at it and figure out just what the hell that is. Then I want to unwrap that fucking mummy! He killed some of my pack!" Rusty, blowing town? It usually didn't work like that, Rusty was a lot of things, but he didn't generally run away from a fight. The man tended to go where he would and courted trouble. "You got a phone?" He couldn't get out, but maybe he could bring the boys in. Some of the chapters were at Lake Talbot, in the Appalachians for the yearly club retreat. They sat around a lake, got high, fucked with bikes and sold drugs to hikers and college students. It wasn't as good as it was in the late 60's and early-to-mid 70's, but it was a club tradition. He only came down to New Camden because de Lacy called him in with a few guys, not wanting an entire club to come in and wreak havoc on his town. Rusty obliged, because he smelled a good deal and desperation. Now he was the desperate one. Breathing heavily, holding himself in check, chest heaving.</s>	<\|message\|>Parael "Magnus" "Well, it wasn't meant to be something that would kill a Peruvian Mummy anyway, just negate some bad-" Nemsemet. Ancient Egypt. Powerful Sorcerer. Or Demigod. Or god. Depending on which hieroglyph you read at the time. Helped Mentuhotep II overthrow the First Dynasty of the Pharoahs and leave nothing but gloating statues all over the place for a good century. Egypt was nothing better than one giant squall of radioactive Magic for paranormals until his death and mummification. Parry was perfectly happy to wander up to Crete and ride out the storm. Came back for the funeral though. Not a lot of people were sad to see him bite it, and nobody could agree how it happened. Cause, you know, nobody wanted to accidentally incur the wrath of the dead all-powerful-could-be-magician-could-be-a-god thing. "Ah. A, uh, Mummy. A true blue Egyptian mummy. Up and about." Parry blinked, mentally taking stock of how long it would take to load up his Persian silks and Japanese Yukata into his bag, then stuff the whole safe into the bag and hail a cab. "Walking. How about that. And you... can't... leave... Phone's in the kitchen. Feel free to make a call, for, you know, as long as you want." Parry froze, looking at the open door and the twilit sky framed by bright street lights on the street. That would need to be taken care of, STAT. "If anyone in the kitchen is not, I repeat, NOT a drug induced hallucination, I would very much appreciate it if you did something about my front door! Locked and bolted please. And put the bookcase in front of it as well." Parry left Rusty in the hallway, marching through the living room and pausing just long enough to unplug the stereo. The disco ball he left spinning. May the disco gods never die. Without skipping a beat, he headed straight into the kitchen, produced a key from beneath his silk blouse shirt, and unlocked the basement door. "I'll be downstairs, need to, uh, grab a few things. You know. For necessity's sake. Also, do me a favor and call the number on page 243 of the cookbook by the fridge. If it connects to someone named Murael, say you're from a Chinese takeout place and say wrong number, then hang up and DO NOT answer it if the phone rings. If it doesn't go through... we're genuinely fucked." This last was punctuated by the door creaking shut (though not with the tell-tale click of a lock), a brief quiet of feet descending stairs, and finally a shrieking "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"</s>
<\|description\|>Mint Age: 18 Personality: She'd seem like the 'nice girl' type, with her ability and her use of it supporting that statement, but she can be in fact surprisingly childish. She is not evil however, just a bit childish. She even looks a bit young for her age, but she does get offended by others calling her out about it. She developed a mix of fear and hatred for elves, unless they prove to be friendly and not haughty, which she doesn't believe will happen anytime soon. Looks up to Minotaurs, helps them every once in a while, although this is pretty much on a whim. Abilities: She is capable of flying, that's her regular ability for a fairy, but she has two little special abilities. The first of those is Photosynthesis - through what seems to be her wings, she is able to absorb some power from the sun, and convert it to power and some neutrients for herself. The extent of this is about the same as human meals - she has to focus on it actively for about 10 minutes to get a feeling of 'fullness' (it can vary depending on the amount of light) . She passively does it too, but it's not nearly enough to actually be anything significant, it just means a bit longer 'recharge times'. The second special ability is to transfer energy from herself to other living beings, including plants. When she does this, it looks like twinkles of light coming out of her towards her target. Bio: Having run away from some elves she come to anger more than once, she is a bit against staying in one place for long periods of time. (for now I guess.)</s> <\|message\|>Eris Belladonna As Eris was lying on she decided that it would be a good idea to try and find out if the ones on the boat were friendly or is they were like the elves, 'maybe it's just the elves or the minotaurs coming back' she thought to herself hoping she was right. After she came to this choice she got up from the seabed and started swimming towards the shore when she came out of her cave. When she got to the shore she got out of the water behind a rock out of sight of the boat where her tail quickly turned into legs and rushed to where clothes were laid out and slipped them on, then rung out her hair, it immediately becoming straighter than before and ran back behind the rock waiting for the ones on the bot to arrive.</s> <\|message\|>Clarisse As each passing moment went Clarisse grew more worrisome of the others and no longer wanting to sit there she decided to go warn other tribes, even if the elves didn't particularly like others. "Hm," she looked at the steep hillside that surrounded her cove, she didn't want to get wet again for a little bit and tried to figure a way out. She started climbing a nearby palm tree, "maybe here and then... here," she muttered to herself her pattern jumping from one tree on the ground to another imbedded in the hillside. She was out of breath and panting once she managed to reach the top and felt pretty triumphant of herself. Though that was short lived when a bit of earth slipped from under her and she started tumbling down the other side of the hill, "Ow, ow, ow!" she exclaimed every time she hit the ground. When reaching the bottom she landed in a pile of leaves which was good I guess, picking herself up and sighed, "well that was fun," she brushed herself off and picked some twigs from her hair. When she finished she started walking, staying hidden within the trees as she moved to the shore and her round, green emerald eyes, spotted the boat not far off shore and seeing a smaller boat get lowered they were preparing to come ashore their island.</s> <\|message\|>Faeya Delisia Faeya slowly walked along the sand and saw a boat. Her eyes widened and she decided to go see what it was. She let her wings come out and she started to fly over to the ship, keeping as concealed as possible. She noticed the smaller boat and she felt extremely aware of the situation. She looked around for the merfolk that were once swimming in the beautiful waters, but she couldn't see any.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Page Seth was to relaxed to notice Daichi, Ahab and Dawn leave the boat. He'll just have to swim to shore later. But for now he double checked the boats anchor and sat on the border of the boat watching the row boat that held his crew mates move closer towards the island. Seth ran back inside the ship and came back out holding a fishing pole. "Might as well do something before I'm stuck wondering the mysterious island." He said throwing the line into the ocean. He sat back on the border and wistled a light and peaceful toon. Hopefully a mermaid or any other type of watery majestic like creature doesn't bite onto Seth's bait. He was just looking forward to catching a regular fish.</s> <\|message\|>Mint Mint was doing her usual round around the island's forests... at least the round itself was usual, but her route was never really decided, as she went wherever she wanted that moment. Along her route that time, she happened to see from a distance someone who seemed to be another fairy, on the edge of the forest. Despite the fact that it'd be quite meaningless to just hide and follow the fellow fairy, Mint decided to do it anyway, officially disrupting her flight through the forest. She thought that later, when the fairy does find her, she'd tell her where she noticed her... but then... ship. A large, intimidating ship. What particularly caught Mint's eyes was the large skull mark on the sail. She almost even failed to notice the smaller boat reaching for the island, if it wasn't for the other fairy's cautious movements. Letting her 'follow target' get away, Mint focused on taking her distance from the ship and boat reaching the shore although she still was curious to know what would come out of it. 'Just don't let it be more elves' she thought to herself.</s> <\|message\|>Zvezdan Fotis He was helping the others clean up after their morning meal, leaving the food that was untouched for the later hours. Another Minotaur poked him in the side pointing on a frail looking woman.But to be fair most things looked frail compared to him. ''Why is the mermaid walking?'' He called out walking closer to her, the young children stared curiously at the girl, but hiding away letting the older speak to her. ''Did something grave happened to one of yours?'' His voice strong and a bit cold at first sound. His tail swung in concern. Zvezdan Zvezdan looked at Athena bite. Nodding to the idea to inform first the tribe of Minotaur, instead of fairies. But before everything he swam deeper to the sea floor picking things out and placing the sea plants into a empty clam as he broke the surface. Just in time to see Athena all dry and clothed starting to walk away into the forest. ''...I assume that means you didnt need a paste for the bite.'' He sighed a smile on his lips she was always a inpatient one in her own world. Not minding he was left behind he placed the mixture for healing he made between a few stones. Hiding it under a piece of driftwood for later. Swimming away from the shore he made his way to the wooden thing that carried someone to ensure no one he knew decide to give it another visit. He was a bit of shocked as he watched something hit the sea floor. A anchor was the thing but Zvezdan couldnt even phantom what it was. He poked it it didnt bite him....... He gave up on it and being sure no one was around he swam away...well at least he tried to swim away until something tugged on his long hair. The hook of a fishing pool got tangled in Zvezdan hair. He tugged and turn around trying to find the creature that was causing him the discomfort, not knowing that his turning around only tangled the metal object more with his hair. Feeling his hair up not finding any fish his worry grow.</s> <\|message\|>Athena Athena Stepped up to the minotaur with newly found courage and said "There are strangers coming on the island.." She said all worried like and had but a clueless face. She had an unshakeable beauty, Even one so crass could not but soften at her appearance. Dainty was athenas favorite word to describe herself and she smiled at the thought of getting complements from the warriors but shyly said "They are in a wood structure and they look mean" she said and folded her arms almost childishly. As They neared the the island Dawn Jumped from the boat and began to walk through the water to shore, showing signs of happiness she never imagined she could feel on the voyage here. Once she hit the dry sand she pulled the row boat up on it "So Who has the map?" She asked with a smirk. Looking around a bit to ensure their safety, she adjusts her singed sword.</s> <\|message\|>Fotis Fotis found the mermaid adorable like a young child. Even thought he didnt show it with his stoic face or stiff stance it was his tail twitching that become softer, showing the reaction. ''A wood structure...did it float?'' Fotis asked caressing chin. He continued thinking aloud. ''hm.... I wonder if the old tales...'' He looked at her snapping out of his thoughts. ''Your kin and you should hide in the waters deep inside the island, if they looked mean. '' He nodded and petted the top of her hair, in a comforting manner. '' From which direction are the strangers arriving?'' He asked still caressing the top of her head, planning to see if they would be willing to trade and leave, but if they were out for harm....they will wish they never came.</s> <\|message\|>Akira Melative Akira unsheathed her weapons and held them firmly in her hand as the people walked onto the island. She was hesitant on whether or not to trust them. But she assumed that the merfolk had told the other races.</s> <\|message\|>Daichi Katsumi Daichi hopped out of the boat as it came up on land and took out his rifle, readying it and keeping watch for anything that would try to attack them or that figure from before turned out to be hostile. Dawn asked who had the map but he didn't have it, in fact he thought she did, maybe Ahab had grabbed it.</s> <\|message\|>Mint Mint watched as three people got off the boat, successfully invading the island's shore. She retreated away from the coast, however to still get a good view of the invaders she also got closer to the route she assumed they were going to go from, assuming they would go straight. She noticed that someone out of the three was asking something from the other two. She couldn't hear what exactly the question was, but it led her to think about the possibility that their reason for invading the island was a sort of 'trip' or 'detour' going wrong. Noticing what looked like weapons on them though, adding to the skull mark on the ship, the possibility that their trip was a peaceful one went down quite a bit.</s> <\|message\|>Clarisse Seeing weapons drawn Clarisse's eyes narrowed, "I knew it," she muttered to herself. Clarisse retreated back into the forest to lay low for a little bit, although she was rather confused about what the female invader said. Surely they weren't lost, maybe looking for trrasure? Something drew them to this island, she didn't know what exactly but she was certain it was no good. As she retreated further into the forest she spotted something...purple, although there was one fairy she knew with that color hair, "curiosity kills the cat Mint," she spoke in a soft melodic tone and gave out a.slight giggle.</s> <\|message\|>Eris Belladonna Eris looked over the top of the rock and as the people came into view she ducked down her hands clasped over her mouth, tears beginning to form in her eyes. humans, her mouth formed the words as though a nightmare had just come to life, 'why are they here?' Eris thought as she began to sink lower to the ground 'maybe I should run, no they'll see me..... but if I stay here...' she trailed off in her mind and slowly peeked back over to the rock at the humans who had come ashore hearing the woman ask for a map. As she watched, memories of those weeks onboard a human ship began to rush back to her and she felt her sickness coming on and fought to keep herself from throwing up as the memory of the guns pointed at her flashed through her head.</s> <\|message\|>Mint "Wha-" Mint managed to say while trying to be quiet for some reason, even if the pirates weren't that close yet. She looked back in a sharp movement, her eyes widening a bit. It seemed like the unknown, for her at least, was scarier than the pirates. ... even though the pirates were a kind of an 'unknown' factor too. When she saw Clarisse, Mint sighed in relief. "Geez, don't scare me like that... for a moment I thought it was one of -them- coming straight for me from behind or something." Said Mint, getting closer to Clarisse. It was partly Clarisse's choice of words that caused the misunderstanding to begin with, Mint was also guilty of the same thing straight after - She emphasized the word 'them', but she really didn't mean the pirates, but other potential threats like elves. "So... what do you make of those people?" She asked, that time she did refer to the pirates.</s> <\|message\|>Clarisse Clarisse chuckled and patted the little fairy on the head, "well I'm sorry Mint I didn't mean to scare you." Her face turned serious when she asked abouf those people and sighed, "unfortunately i have run into people of their kindd before, all they know is how to pilage and plunder, not caring about anyone else but themselves." Though she shouldnt be quick to judge, but she didnt trust humans after that encounter. "Anyways its best if we steer clear of them cor a little bit, least till we know what exactly they're here for."</s>	<\|message\|>Mint Mint endured the little pat on the head, forgiving the little scare rather quickly. She just felt it'd be a waste of time to bother saying more than she already did. "Oh, so you do have experience with them, Clarisse? They don't sound too friendly, from what you're saying.. drawing weapons like that also being rude." Said the little fairy as she wondered what kind of experience could Clarisse, the mermaid in front of her, possibly have with those people. She imagined that it wouldn't be anything good though, from what she heard. "... But couldn't we just watch them like this, so we could just know what they're up to by their actions? That's what I thought anyway." Mint didn't completely disagree with withdrawing, but she didn't really agree with just letting them come without any warning about their possible routes. She couldn't know about the mermaid which already went and warned the minotaurs, but she didn't want to be the one responsible if the pirates just decided to pop out of nowhere inside the minotaur village.</s>
<\|description\|>Mint Age: 18 Personality: She'd seem like the 'nice girl' type, with her ability and her use of it supporting that statement, but she can be in fact surprisingly childish. She is not evil however, just a bit childish. She even looks a bit young for her age, but she does get offended by others calling her out about it. She developed a mix of fear and hatred for elves, unless they prove to be friendly and not haughty, which she doesn't believe will happen anytime soon. Looks up to Minotaurs, helps them every once in a while, although this is pretty much on a whim. Abilities: She is capable of flying, that's her regular ability for a fairy, but she has two little special abilities. The first of those is Photosynthesis - through what seems to be her wings, she is able to absorb some power from the sun, and convert it to power and some neutrients for herself. The extent of this is about the same as human meals - she has to focus on it actively for about 10 minutes to get a feeling of 'fullness' (it can vary depending on the amount of light) . She passively does it too, but it's not nearly enough to actually be anything significant, it just means a bit longer 'recharge times'. The second special ability is to transfer energy from herself to other living beings, including plants. When she does this, it looks like twinkles of light coming out of her towards her target. Bio: Having run away from some elves she come to anger more than once, she is a bit against staying in one place for long periods of time. (for now I guess.)</s> <\|message\|>Zvezdan Zvezdan As the body started to sink he came closer to it watching it drop deeper. Air bubbles started to leave the mans lips. He could just live him to drown, like he intended... At this point the jelly fish scattered away. The body softly fall on the sea floor......but if they search revenge for the death I would set the girls in great danger... His farms went around the pirate and swimming fast he reached the surface and quite quickly the beach too. No one was on it lucky, he pulled himself and the pirate body beside the row board that was resting on the sand. Water dripping from his tail and hair he pulled the man fully out of the water. Pressing the chest a few times to make him splutter the salty sea water. Was he starting to wake up? Zvezdan leaned over him and his voice used to sing his spell he hum singed sending a shiver of calm and pleasant feeling over the nearly drowning man. Take your friends and leave quick. And zvezdan turned around pushing himself back into the depths of the sea. Hoping the man would do as asked. Fotis He smirked a treasure they say. If someone refers that they wanted treasure you could get them to over pay easily. They should have choose their words more wisely. Before he could let any comment at the offered object another of the sea kin appeared, she was scared and that pulled any fatherly string in his body. He used his big hand and petted gently the top of Eris head who hide behind him. ''Na,na, its fine. '' He all but cooed at her, smiling at her in the fashion that he knew what he was doing. He kneed and urged Eris to climb on his back and hold onto. Turning his attention to the newcomers. ''Treasure you say, That arent cheap. '' He looked at the woman who offered the metal object his face showing his displeasure for the low offer. ''Either way, Follow me if treasure is what you want. '' He said smiling starting walk in the woods path, not too long they were in a clearing several stones scattered around and a old camp fire was in place. He sat down on a big stone offering the pirates the other stones to sit on. ''Let exchange our names for good fortune. I am Fotis.''</s> <\|message\|>Faeya Delisia Faeya saw Fotis discussing with the visitors. Something about treasure struck her as quite odd. She looked around and decided to go help Fotis with the newcomers. She flew over to where Fotis sat and gracefully landed next to him. Her eyes scanned the newcomers with a friendly and curious smile. "Hello, Fotis and… newcomers. Are you here for something?" She saw Eris and smiled at her, but she then noticed the girl's stance and her protective instincts kicked in. She turned her attention back to the arrivals and Her eyebrow went up, almost as if to say 'what did you do to her?' Though she still looked up at everyone, Faeya was very protective.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Page Take your friends and leave quick. These were the words Seth heard as he quickly regained consciousness. He leaned up from the sand a sharp pain shot through his stomach and he began to cough up water. The coughing knocked him on to his back. After the coughing stopped he was breathing somewhat heavily and should slow down a bit. His eyes starred into the endless blue sky as water seeped out the corner of his mouth. Seth attempted to get up again and was successful. His body still felt uneasy and he should anxiously be resting but he had to catch up with the rest of his crew. He stubbled into a woods like scenery and used the passing trees as support when he walked. "D..Dawn! Daichi!......Ahab!" Seth struggled to shout as he walked. He should be shouting for help. After that jelly fish incident he shouldn't be on his feet traveling in unknown territory. Speaking of the jelly fish incident, Seth couldn't stop thinking about how unnatural the appearance of the jelly fishes were. Normally they aren't hostile but what happened with Seth was unquestionably hostile. What confused him the most was how did he get out of the water. Whatever saved him must have something out for him and in crew. Seth put his mysterious savior aside and continued his blind journey through the woods. He shouted the names of his crews mates again. His voice had a horse tone to it. Hopefully someone will hear his shouts of distress.</s> <\|message\|>Eris Belladonna Eris had climbed onto the minotaur's back and wrapped her arms and legs around the minotaur and hid her head behind his back. while they walked she looked at the humans and relaxed a small bit but was still extremely scared when she looked over what they had and especially what the lady offered Fotis holding her hand up to her mouth and almost throwing up at the sight of the pistol but held it back... barely. When they reached the old camp she kept holding onto Fotis even when he sat down almost looking as though she she was never gonna let go of him.</s> <\|message\|>Daichi Katsumi Daichi turned and stood still, listening, he thought he heard...Seth?...calling out for them as the group began walking he turned and said "you guys go ahead..." and headed in the direction he thought the sound was coming from, keeping his rifle up, eventually he did come across Seth "Seth? What happened to you?" he asked, Seth looked like he had been breathing nothing but seawater for the past 10 minutes, he was soaked head to toe and had sting marks all over him, Daichi went over and helped him "here, sit for a minute" he said as he eased Seth down against a tree.</s> <\|message\|>Dawn Nix had fallen in a cavern by the ocean, the possibility of it being a mermaid lair was a 50/50 chance she yelled out "Can anyone hear me?!" her knee had a large gash and a few bruises on her arms and legs. She was trying to get to the pirate ship, because she felt the need to warn them about the island and its treasure. She had ran so fast without thinking, she fell hard and far down. She was lucky to have a few halves of bread and her flute. She began playing a rather sad tune Athena saw her chance to leave and took it, She jumped from tree to tree artistically once she got closer to the ocean she noticed a boy who looked as if he had been in a fight with a swarm of jellyfish. 'Lovely' She thought to herself Another male came over to him and helped him sit. She decided to drop down behind the injured one. "Move" She said and pushed the other one aside with a soft nudge and laid her hand over the injured boy, creating a bright light all the markings of the stings were slowly erasing and he looked less sickly when she stopped. When she stopped she ran off to the beach and jumped in, instantly shifting into a mermaid. Dawn Followed the minotaur and gave a half smile to the scared girl, and the other one known as faeya. Her eyes darted around before she sat on the stone "Why do you think this is Cheap I can assure you it is not" She said to him and smiled when he asked for the names "I am Dawn, First mate" She said not knowing if he even knew what that meant. Her eyes suddenly were glued to the girl on the minotaurs back, unusual looking eyes and facial features not that of a normal human she smirked and held up the gun and showed her the barrel of it was empty then set it down. "Don't worry young one" she said and pulled her attention back to the minotaur</s> <\|message\|>Fotis Zvezdan Had a frown on his face, he tried to find eris or clariss but neither were around the typical places. He really wished to have someone with him at this moment. The weird bite on his hair and the person he gave warning too, were all too fresh and making him feel fear and insecure. He crossed his hands. A small worry that those two ended up walking on land to satisfy their curiosity was starting to creep on him. There were still places he didnt check. Like those 'secret' corners of the ocean ever of them enjoyed finding and call it their own. Following a memory of when he saw one of the mermaids swim in a system of under water caves he quickly swam to the cave opening and into it. He hoped they all were there together, he didnt worry about Athena at the moment as he was sure the tribe of the Minotaur wouldnt let any harm come upon them. It was the melody that guided him the last few turns to reach a cavern. Well.....that wasnt the girl he hoped to find here. He silently watched from underwater listening to the music she played. Only when she stopped for a brief moment he broke the surface and watched her with a curious eyebrow raised. He saw her with the other fairies around but couldnt place a name on her. Fotis He gave a nod of welcome when Faeya arrived and greeted him. He wondered briefly if the elf folk would attempt and interact with this newcomers. His attention shifting back to the task on hand. His tail petting eris back even tickling her a bit to cheer her up as she clung to his back for something that he felt like was great fear. He will be more cautious. "Why do you think this is Cheap I can assure you it is not" Fotis smirked knowingly. He didnt knew the exact prize of it the exact worth but it was surely not enough, mostly it was their first offer and first offers were always a drastic underpay for the goods. "I am Dawn, First mate" He didnt know what first mate mean but he assumed it was similar to first chef a leader. And the behavior of the woman was speaking in pro for it. ''Well, if you think thats enough for a treasure may I ask what you want? Maybe treasure doesnt mean the same thing to your kin and mine. If you ask my mother she would tell you that the greatest treasure of our home are the healing herbs. For that treasure that would be enough indeed.'' He knew about the tales of the treasure and its curse to lead to death to anyone who took it away. Each tribe telling the tale just a bit different, but in the end it was telling the same thing. As a trader he wanted to see what they own, how much he could take from them, as a Minotaur he wanted to know where they stand. Were they searching a way to die? Or were just plain greedy.</s> <\|message\|>Daichi Katsumi Daichi wondered who the girl was as she jumped into the water and disappeared, whatever she did seemed to help Seth and for that he thanked her, he knelt down next to Seth "Seth, are you okay?, what happened?" he asked as he looked seth over again to see if there were any injuries left.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Page Seth smiled as a familiar voice could be heard coming closer towards him. From what he could tell it might of been Daichi. His eyes site was not in the best shape so he didn't trust as of now. As the helpful mestrious voice asked if he was okay Seth frowned and said. "I had better days..." He leaned against a tree with the help from Daichi and took a deep breathe. Seth was about to finally have a successful moment to rest until a another presence was felt behind him. Seth tried to ask who was there but his throat was in serious pain. As he heard the foot steps of the stranger become closer he attempted to move but to no avail was unable to get up. Soon he felt a warm sensation fell his body and attend to the countless bruises on his body. His breathing receded back to a normal rate and Seth looked healthier. The sudden change from sickness to healthiness cause him to cough a lot but it stopped soon. Seth quickly opened his eyes but closed them seconds after. The sun raise stunned his eyes and he opened them slowly again adjusting to the light. He turned and looked in every direction as if he lost something. "W...what was that?" Seth asked looking at Daichi. He stood up slowly with the help of the tree. His body was healed, he just had to adapt to the sudden change. He heard the question Daichi asked him but didn't want to answer. Instead he said "We.....should catch back up with Ahab and Dawn." When he mentioned them the thought of that mysterious voice he heard before he washed up upon shore came back into his head. He decided to put it aside for now and wait until he was reunited with the rest of his crew mates.</s> <\|message\|>Alex Mason Alex must have had a really, really deep sleep. He awoke upon the ship he was contracted to so no change there. Alex got out of bed and strapped his two katanas to his waist before leaving the room. Sunlight burst through the room and into his eyes as soon as he opened the door. Hey! Looks like we reached land. Alex jogged over to the side of the ship facing the island, it was very tropical and quite beautiful in a sense. Alex vaulted over the side and rolled when he hit the ground. When he stood up he scanned everywhere, looking for any sign of his crewmates. "Now where the hell have they gone?" He asked himself.</s>	<\|message\|>Mint After waiting for a while and watching what the pirates actually did, Mint decided that it was about time she quit that hiding game and actually know more about the newcomers. "Sorry." She said, flying away from her hiding spot so she could come from behind Fotis, and face those pirates. After all, surprising those newcomers from behind wasn't a good idea, especially with their... quite mysterious weapons, at least from Mint's point of view. She did know about swords, but those... metal sticks with a hole in them, she couldn't really identify those, no matter how much she looked at them. "Hey, Fotis!" Mint called, waving as she flew towards him. "Hello to you too." She said with a little smile as she landed, not really remembering the mermaid's name at the moment. "So you must be the newcomers." Mind said with a straight face, trying not to look too suspicious, even though she was from one side excited, and from the other side a bit scared.</s>
<\|description\|>Alex Mason Age: 20 Appearance: Personality: Very loyal and friendly companion to have on the ship, he is also a brave and daring young adventurer not afraid of combat or the unknown. He follows the strict code of Bushido he found in his travels to Japan, where he also picked up his swords. Bio: Alex is a lone mercenary to begin with, his contracts and career taking him around the world from the age of 17. He loved travelling with his companions, however, in a trip to the eastern isles of Japan, Alex found his first weapons when he veered of from the group, as he turned back to join his party, they were all slain. The village was attacked by barbarians controlled by a warlord. Alex managed to slip away, running to the nearest safe haven he could. He stumbled upon a temple which an old sensei resided. He took Alex in and taught him how to use his swords and the virtues of the samurai- Bushido. His contract now has put him with the pirates as an extra hand for the voyage, as well as extra muscle</s> <\|message\|>Faeya Delisia Faeya saw Fotis discussing with the visitors. Something about treasure struck her as quite odd. She looked around and decided to go help Fotis with the newcomers. She flew over to where Fotis sat and gracefully landed next to him. Her eyes scanned the newcomers with a friendly and curious smile. "Hello, Fotis and… newcomers. Are you here for something?" She saw Eris and smiled at her, but she then noticed the girl's stance and her protective instincts kicked in. She turned her attention back to the arrivals and Her eyebrow went up, almost as if to say 'what did you do to her?' Though she still looked up at everyone, Faeya was very protective.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Page Take your friends and leave quick. These were the words Seth heard as he quickly regained consciousness. He leaned up from the sand a sharp pain shot through his stomach and he began to cough up water. The coughing knocked him on to his back. After the coughing stopped he was breathing somewhat heavily and should slow down a bit. His eyes starred into the endless blue sky as water seeped out the corner of his mouth. Seth attempted to get up again and was successful. His body still felt uneasy and he should anxiously be resting but he had to catch up with the rest of his crew. He stubbled into a woods like scenery and used the passing trees as support when he walked. "D..Dawn! Daichi!......Ahab!" Seth struggled to shout as he walked. He should be shouting for help. After that jelly fish incident he shouldn't be on his feet traveling in unknown territory. Speaking of the jelly fish incident, Seth couldn't stop thinking about how unnatural the appearance of the jelly fishes were. Normally they aren't hostile but what happened with Seth was unquestionably hostile. What confused him the most was how did he get out of the water. Whatever saved him must have something out for him and in crew. Seth put his mysterious savior aside and continued his blind journey through the woods. He shouted the names of his crews mates again. His voice had a horse tone to it. Hopefully someone will hear his shouts of distress.</s> <\|message\|>Eris Belladonna Eris had climbed onto the minotaur's back and wrapped her arms and legs around the minotaur and hid her head behind his back. while they walked she looked at the humans and relaxed a small bit but was still extremely scared when she looked over what they had and especially what the lady offered Fotis holding her hand up to her mouth and almost throwing up at the sight of the pistol but held it back... barely. When they reached the old camp she kept holding onto Fotis even when he sat down almost looking as though she she was never gonna let go of him.</s> <\|message\|>Daichi Katsumi Daichi turned and stood still, listening, he thought he heard...Seth?...calling out for them as the group began walking he turned and said "you guys go ahead..." and headed in the direction he thought the sound was coming from, keeping his rifle up, eventually he did come across Seth "Seth? What happened to you?" he asked, Seth looked like he had been breathing nothing but seawater for the past 10 minutes, he was soaked head to toe and had sting marks all over him, Daichi went over and helped him "here, sit for a minute" he said as he eased Seth down against a tree.</s> <\|message\|>Dawn Nix had fallen in a cavern by the ocean, the possibility of it being a mermaid lair was a 50/50 chance she yelled out "Can anyone hear me?!" her knee had a large gash and a few bruises on her arms and legs. She was trying to get to the pirate ship, because she felt the need to warn them about the island and its treasure. She had ran so fast without thinking, she fell hard and far down. She was lucky to have a few halves of bread and her flute. She began playing a rather sad tune Athena saw her chance to leave and took it, She jumped from tree to tree artistically once she got closer to the ocean she noticed a boy who looked as if he had been in a fight with a swarm of jellyfish. 'Lovely' She thought to herself Another male came over to him and helped him sit. She decided to drop down behind the injured one. "Move" She said and pushed the other one aside with a soft nudge and laid her hand over the injured boy, creating a bright light all the markings of the stings were slowly erasing and he looked less sickly when she stopped. When she stopped she ran off to the beach and jumped in, instantly shifting into a mermaid. Dawn Followed the minotaur and gave a half smile to the scared girl, and the other one known as faeya. Her eyes darted around before she sat on the stone "Why do you think this is Cheap I can assure you it is not" She said to him and smiled when he asked for the names "I am Dawn, First mate" She said not knowing if he even knew what that meant. Her eyes suddenly were glued to the girl on the minotaurs back, unusual looking eyes and facial features not that of a normal human she smirked and held up the gun and showed her the barrel of it was empty then set it down. "Don't worry young one" she said and pulled her attention back to the minotaur</s> <\|message\|>Fotis Zvezdan Had a frown on his face, he tried to find eris or clariss but neither were around the typical places. He really wished to have someone with him at this moment. The weird bite on his hair and the person he gave warning too, were all too fresh and making him feel fear and insecure. He crossed his hands. A small worry that those two ended up walking on land to satisfy their curiosity was starting to creep on him. There were still places he didnt check. Like those 'secret' corners of the ocean ever of them enjoyed finding and call it their own. Following a memory of when he saw one of the mermaids swim in a system of under water caves he quickly swam to the cave opening and into it. He hoped they all were there together, he didnt worry about Athena at the moment as he was sure the tribe of the Minotaur wouldnt let any harm come upon them. It was the melody that guided him the last few turns to reach a cavern. Well.....that wasnt the girl he hoped to find here. He silently watched from underwater listening to the music she played. Only when she stopped for a brief moment he broke the surface and watched her with a curious eyebrow raised. He saw her with the other fairies around but couldnt place a name on her. Fotis He gave a nod of welcome when Faeya arrived and greeted him. He wondered briefly if the elf folk would attempt and interact with this newcomers. His attention shifting back to the task on hand. His tail petting eris back even tickling her a bit to cheer her up as she clung to his back for something that he felt like was great fear. He will be more cautious. "Why do you think this is Cheap I can assure you it is not" Fotis smirked knowingly. He didnt knew the exact prize of it the exact worth but it was surely not enough, mostly it was their first offer and first offers were always a drastic underpay for the goods. "I am Dawn, First mate" He didnt know what first mate mean but he assumed it was similar to first chef a leader. And the behavior of the woman was speaking in pro for it. ''Well, if you think thats enough for a treasure may I ask what you want? Maybe treasure doesnt mean the same thing to your kin and mine. If you ask my mother she would tell you that the greatest treasure of our home are the healing herbs. For that treasure that would be enough indeed.'' He knew about the tales of the treasure and its curse to lead to death to anyone who took it away. Each tribe telling the tale just a bit different, but in the end it was telling the same thing. As a trader he wanted to see what they own, how much he could take from them, as a Minotaur he wanted to know where they stand. Were they searching a way to die? Or were just plain greedy.</s> <\|message\|>Daichi Katsumi Daichi wondered who the girl was as she jumped into the water and disappeared, whatever she did seemed to help Seth and for that he thanked her, he knelt down next to Seth "Seth, are you okay?, what happened?" he asked as he looked seth over again to see if there were any injuries left.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Page Seth smiled as a familiar voice could be heard coming closer towards him. From what he could tell it might of been Daichi. His eyes site was not in the best shape so he didn't trust as of now. As the helpful mestrious voice asked if he was okay Seth frowned and said. "I had better days..." He leaned against a tree with the help from Daichi and took a deep breathe. Seth was about to finally have a successful moment to rest until a another presence was felt behind him. Seth tried to ask who was there but his throat was in serious pain. As he heard the foot steps of the stranger become closer he attempted to move but to no avail was unable to get up. Soon he felt a warm sensation fell his body and attend to the countless bruises on his body. His breathing receded back to a normal rate and Seth looked healthier. The sudden change from sickness to healthiness cause him to cough a lot but it stopped soon. Seth quickly opened his eyes but closed them seconds after. The sun raise stunned his eyes and he opened them slowly again adjusting to the light. He turned and looked in every direction as if he lost something. "W...what was that?" Seth asked looking at Daichi. He stood up slowly with the help of the tree. His body was healed, he just had to adapt to the sudden change. He heard the question Daichi asked him but didn't want to answer. Instead he said "We.....should catch back up with Ahab and Dawn." When he mentioned them the thought of that mysterious voice he heard before he washed up upon shore came back into his head. He decided to put it aside for now and wait until he was reunited with the rest of his crew mates.</s> <\|message\|>Alex Mason Alex must have had a really, really deep sleep. He awoke upon the ship he was contracted to so no change there. Alex got out of bed and strapped his two katanas to his waist before leaving the room. Sunlight burst through the room and into his eyes as soon as he opened the door. Hey! Looks like we reached land. Alex jogged over to the side of the ship facing the island, it was very tropical and quite beautiful in a sense. Alex vaulted over the side and rolled when he hit the ground. When he stood up he scanned everywhere, looking for any sign of his crewmates. "Now where the hell have they gone?" He asked himself.</s> <\|message\|>Mint After waiting for a while and watching what the pirates actually did, Mint decided that it was about time she quit that hiding game and actually know more about the newcomers. "Sorry." She said, flying away from her hiding spot so she could come from behind Fotis, and face those pirates. After all, surprising those newcomers from behind wasn't a good idea, especially with their... quite mysterious weapons, at least from Mint's point of view. She did know about swords, but those... metal sticks with a hole in them, she couldn't really identify those, no matter how much she looked at them. "Hey, Fotis!" Mint called, waving as she flew towards him. "Hello to you too." She said with a little smile as she landed, not really remembering the mermaid's name at the moment. "So you must be the newcomers." Mind said with a straight face, trying not to look too suspicious, even though she was from one side excited, and from the other side a bit scared.</s> <\|message\|>Faeya Delisia Faeya glanced at Mint and become much more protective. Her eyebrows furrowed at the young woman. "What-what do you want?" Her eyes went to the other men and she bit her bottom lip nervously. She knew some would want their abilities for their own benefit. It was, of course, something they could not do. She looked at the girl again and noticed the greedy glint in her eye. It was in all of their eyes, but also adventure and experience. As if they haven't lived their entire life on one island like her.</s> <\|message\|>Alex Mason "Hello?" Alex called out. "Anybody?" He yelled again. Alex drew one of his katanas, he didn't know what was on this island. He decided to go left from the side of the boat and walk the perimeter of this side. Until he found someone or something he would carry on and periodically call out for his crewmates.</s> <\|message\|>Nix Nix had stopped playing because she ran out of breath and looked over to where a merman had came up from the water "Well hello" She said and put her flute away and kindly stared at the Merman "My name is nix.. Can i ride you to shore?" She said softly thinking it wise to ask instead of assume. Her eyes were a mix of unusual colors brown and yellow with a hint of green, None of the other fairies had eyes like her. SHe was special in more ways than one, If he had recognized her hed know she was a fairy the one fairy who never grew wings. Dawn stood up and crossed her arms "We want treasure! Gold, rubies, gems! That is what we want! Not silly herbs or potions nothing of that sort" She said all too hastily her body language was clear as day ready to fight She looked at her crew and back at the minotaur confidently. Athena swam far out into the ocean to her favorite spot once there she was almost and completly surrounded by sharks, She liked talking to them and decided once these pirtes think they have won she will use the sharks to eat them and save the day. But for now she was talking to them and their children, relaxing watching them feed was incredible.</s>	<\|message\|>Alex Mason Alex turned around to a voice, a women with brown and yellow eyes with some sort of greensish tinge. He didn't know if she was talking to him so he pointed to himself in a questioning way, just in case.</s>
<\|description\|>Pretty nice. BTW, you're free to post intro of your characters if you feel like</s> <\|message\|>Pretty nice. CHAPTER 1: A DAY IN SCARLET "It begins then…" The scene opened on a luxurious room filled with a Victorian essence, only one of the many rooms within a big mansion of polished marble, cedarwood and colorful rocks of any kind. The man in black seated in a red and gold sofa spoke with an elegant tone while holding a glass of red wine in his hand. Anybody would think this man was of great importance, a renowned figure yet he was in fact an unknown person for the media and thus the population. Yet still he acted with the dignity that only a great man can boast. His interlocutor dressed with a tartan shirt, long pants and a top hat all in a mixture of wild colors, both from the clothes themselves and the stains of different paintings, a total contrast to the appearance of the other man. He was busy on his own painting but gave himself time to smile and reply. "It was quite a journey, to find the ten pieces, heh! It even took a person's life to gather them. Do you wear no regret Elean?" The man in black, Elean, sipped from his wine and said. "It had to come eventually, that life was wasted after all, a fool old man, a complete idiot that bought all the innocent lies, and his fate was the right one." "But, you took his life, didn't you?" "I do wear that life my dear friend. Now please, let's enjoy this time, tomorrow will be a great day for sure." The man sipped from the glass again emptying it while his partner continued his painting. Both were accompanied by the Revolutionary Etude echoing through the room. The day of the Scarlet is soon to fall. I'll see that you pain your sin. ---------------------------------------- The biggest event of the year, The great exposition of art from all the world begins today! The most important day for Anheldrim and the entire world. Which great artist will come triumphant and which will face the bitter defeat? Regardless of the outcome, enjoy! For this will be surely a great day to remember, a day that will be carved within every single man and woman, every single artist! The greatest city, the metropolis of art was even more lively than the usual. The streets filled with colors and music, with scents and dances; street artists performed their grace with passion in an attempt to gather the attention of any tourist or passerby, but mainly to show its devotion. From each corner a different melody played yet when they mixed it didn't became a total chaos, instead they combined into a great symphony. The scents of food covered the environment, sweet, salty, spicy and bitter, each one a temptation, each one calling the people to enter into the kitchens and enjoy a promising meal. The expressions of each art manifested as well, thus lights danced in the air, fling pots of food traveled through the streets, dancing figures took form and even buildings raised into the sky. Even for those who had lived years in this city, each single one was a new surprise, truly a marvelous scenery drawn from a dream. Yet all this was just the entrance hall from what all had come to see, The Great exposition of Art which was to happen in the center of the city, in a circle that covered several kilometers of radius filled with magnificent buildings reminiscent of gothic and roman structures, each single one a giant palace hosting a different event. Pictures, Dance, Martial arts, Sculptures, Music of each genre, Movies, choreographies and many more that it would take weeks just to describe each one. It also hosted the biggest and most beautiful garden in the entire world, each year ornamented by different arranges made by Petruccio Abaccio, the man considered to be the greatest gardener and whose very services are said to be expensive enough to buy an entire life. Many men and women dressed like nobles walked through the streets, through the palaces in dignified manner, a glance of elegance, a glance of contempt for the lower classes, the ones who awaited in the shadows wishing for a moment to shine and expecting one to pick the leftovers, a few impatient ones willing to claim rights and new property by their own hands or even perhaps following complex grudges. A magnificent day, from either viewpoint, even bad ones, no one would doubt that claim, but this one was to come as the most special one of all for each single one. Many would be involved, yet only a few will be granted the permission to walk in the scarlet carpet of the biggest event, the social class was of no importance, instead, the will to fight, the will to live, and the will to fulfill one's dream would be the judges of this event. In other words, anyone was free to participate if he or she had what it was required. Or more likely they will have no choice to step back from the contest. ---------------------------------- Clad in a gold and blue dress, the noble young woman, Nadia Eisendin was seated on a luxurious bench in one of the many gardens close to the philharmonic palace. She was both, nervous and anxious, holding always a black case with her, not too big yet her slender figure enhanced its size. This girl was a particular famous figure in the world, a celebrity if you will. She was the current head of the Eisendin family, one of the most famous families in the world of music, crafted from poor roots by the hands of Lord J. Eisendin, the patriarch of the family, a man who lead the greatest philharmonic ever seen. The world cried four years ago when the man at the incredible age of 123 years died; all his legacy and fortune was inherited by his granddaughter Nadia, the 19 years old woman whose parents died years ago in a car accident. The girl waved her short legs, her glance lost in the empty sky. She was a very shy and reclusive person often portraying eyes that reflected a strange fear, yet also a bizarre determination. Nadia was perhaps one of the most important figures within this tale.</s> <\|message\|>Unknown. Simply called "The Bard" The Bard came out of the shadows of an alleyway. He merged with the group headed to the garden, and no one noticed him. When he Arrived at the Garden, he stopped in front of a empty bench. Perfect, he thought. He snapped and his Turntable appeared. He set it up and began play as he brought his hat down to cover his face. As the Song played, a Scene played out in the path. A cloud had appeared, and a young boy was playing in the rain humming "rain rain go away". The Bard smiled</s> <\|message\|>Choro "See ya tomorrow!" a young woman called over her shoulder as she left the "Kioko Café". Throwing her handbag over her shoulder she proceeded down the street, towards the philharmonic. As usual she would take the shortcut through the park to get home. She liked the calm and the stone hewn benches that sometimes inspired her dances. Her boots sounded surreal in her ears as she left the pavement and stepped onto the gravelled path leading through the park. Something was oddly off today. Choro didn't feel like herself. Frustration took hold of her and so she dug in her bag in search for her lipstick and hand help mirror. The dark stained her already perfectly coloured lips once more. A short correction with her middle finger and she let her utensils glide back into the bag. Choro froze in her tracks. Was that music she was hearing? Following the foreign sound she soon came to a bench and a young man. Seemingly he was the one creating the music . . . and an image of some sort. Feeling the blood rush faster through her veins the dark haired woman let her bag fall to the ground next to the musician as the rhythm took over control of her body. Throwing her arms up and her head back she let the bass ripple through her body, move her hips and shoulders, making her sway until she felt in synch with all of it. Moving to the bass she let her chest circle, throwing herself upward, backward . . . falling, a smile on her lips she extended a hand to catch herself and land on her feet. Using the momentum she spun, kicking off the ground in a pirouette, dancing to her hearts extent until the music stopped and she stood there, breathing heavily, looking into the sky, a childish smile on her darkened lips.</s> <\|message\|>Keiji Keiji was walking up the street, his mask was on hiding his face, he was glancing around looking at all the people dressed up and displaying their craft, the arts were beautiful surly, but with so many people around he eventually headed to the park and had come upon a musician playing for a dancer, he decided to sit down in the grass and watch her for awhile</s> <\|message\|>Unknown. Simply called "The Bard" The Bard saw the woman come up and start dancing to the beat of his song. His smile grew larger and he thought he should play a new song as the first one started dying down. He cracked his knuckles and snapped again to change the song to his liking. The breeze flew though the park and a sweet smell came with it. As the new Song started, The old image faded and sand swirled to create a man of sand, and the Sand Man offered his hand to the Dancing Lady. "Shall we?" The Bard said, his voice seeming to blend with the song.</s> <\|message\|>Choro Wind picked up, played with strands of black hair that was rebelling against the pins holding it in place. A new song kicked in, starting very slow, making Choro sway slightly. She closed her eyes, letting herself fall into the new song – literally. Just before she hit the ground she rolled to the side, spreading her legs in the air and pushing her body off the ground. Soon she found back on her feet again to meet . . . a sandman? A hand was offered to her. Had a voice spoken to her? Choro felt light-headed and a bit dizzy as she extended her arm to lay her hand in that of the sandman. Rolling her head she let herself get pulled in and work her own little magic by not thinking about her movements any more. Intuition took over. The movements became more powerful, less lazy as it had been with the first song. Throwing her head back she grabbed the shoulders of the man before her and pulled herself up upon the sand to gently lower her legs behind the creature and find solid ground, back to back with the sandman. For her everything had become a blur of sound and colour. Her trained muscles stretched beneath her skin making her countless tattoos dance with her. She had to remember this kid – he mixed nice tunes. If he'd also manage some classic or rock?</s>	<\|message\|>Pretty nice. Interesting.... Thought Nadia sitting in her own bench while observing the artists that arrived the Palace. Let's see... are they professionals that will participate in the Great Exposition?.... Wondered the girl. Their acts were noble, they were devoted each one in their passions. The girl bitted her lower lip, they were the opposite of her existence who was unnable to bring passion to the art she practiced.... Or more likely the art she has to practice. They don't seem like pro to me... maybe is just people who had come to see the spectacle... Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice, a ethereal like voice formed in the air which resonated through the entirety of the garden. "Greetings my fellow artists. It's my pleasure to announce that the main event will soon begin. Please, those who had their entrances head to the Philharmonic's Palace. Our first event will be a commemoration to our dear Lord Jeremiah Eisendin on the fourth year after his death." It's the signal.... thought Nadia, being she the current head of the Eisendin family she had a special spot in the main balcony. She should had entered earlier to get ready, the presence of the artists distracted her. Can't waste more time with these low people anyway thought as she stood up from the bench and headed to the palace.</s>
<\|description\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) Age: 30 Appearance: Personality: Loves to learn more things constantly. A peaceful person, he prefers commerce and negotiation to battle, and will only fight another person in self defense. Skills: Engineering, computer use, electronics, physics Non-standard Abilities: Mutation: Radiation absorption: Metabolism feeds on Alpha, Beta, and Gamma radiation up to a certain level. If he absorbs too much, his radiation level will start to go down once he enters and low radiation area. This allows him to travel areas that would normally be dangerous for humans to be in. While metabolizing radiation cellular mitosis occurs faster, giving him up to a 5x healing rate. Bionic Implants: Computer interface: This implant can wirelessly access nearby computers and download data or control them. It allows perfect recall of any data stored on the device. It also stores his electronic currency behind a firewall so that it can't be stolen by run-of-the-mill thieves. Equipment: Dual Ion Rifle: Can switch between firing Negative Ions, which damage shields and electronics and stuns organic life, and Positive Ions, which heat up and burn targets, though it isn't as efficient at producing damage as a particle or laser weapon. Wrist-comp: A largely unnecessary computer on his forearm, he keeps it for its superior processing speed, Geiger counter, holo-projector, and long range communications array, essentially an overpowered cell phone. Backup power cells: Extra charges for his rifle or wristcomp. Sometimes used to bring derelict technology back to life. Personal shield generator: Found on a dead Slaver, it doesn't protect against many hits, especially from heavier guns, but it is enough to keep him from getting injured by a stray shot while diving for cover or moving between cover areas. Hyper-crystal necklace: Given to him as payment for repairing the reactor that almost killed him, he keeps it both for sentimental reasons and because it is both beautiful and valuable. The hypercrystal appears to contain a moving light within it, as the tachyons that enter it from hyperspace decay into photons when they enter our space-time continuum. Theoretically, the crystal could be used to power a hyperdrive, but he lacks the funds to build one. Bio: Shortly after birth, he was adopted by someone who could afford to properly raise a child on Earth, something which is fairly rare. Raised by a Zathuran engineer, Setta Feestra, who worked at a starport in one of the larger salvage cities by the name of Savannah, he studied science and technology from a young age. He left when he got old enough. His implant was a gift from his parent, and was manufactured on their homeworld. After leaving Savannah he traveled around, looking for a place where he could put his skills to work, earning a living by helping people. He learned of his mutation when a traveling wave reactor he was building for a city developed a radiation leak. He received a lethal dose of radiation and was expected to die, but over the next few days his radiation sickness went away, and his sores began to scab over. Within a week, he was reading as radiation free by the Geiger counters at the clinic. Since then he has made a decent living salvaging in lightly irradiated areas, as few people have tried salvaging them, and radiation suits and radiation treatment drugs are fairly expensive. Name: Zathuran (Zthu'rn) Homeworld: Zatha Specialization: Advanced tech, especially power, FTL, and scientific equipment. Appearance: Red, yellow, or sometimes Purple Humanoids. To the human eye they appear to have a mix of male and female features, such as male physique, but also having feminine facial features. They rarely have visible hair on their faces or heads, though what hair they do have is in shades of white, silver, or grey. Description: A race of hermaphrodites, they have a fairly diverse culture compared to many. The structure of their brains naturally makes it easier to understand advanced mathematics and physics, which has lead to many of them specializing in technology. In fact, their technology is the industry standard in the areas of hyperdrives and warp drives, as well as quantum singularity reactor technology. Their computer technology is also some of the best, as it has needed to be to do the calculations necessary for advanced physics research. Those that don't go into such fields often still enter a scientific field, causing a much larger than normal percent of their population to work in biology and the medical fields. They also have a rich culture of art, music, and philosophy which draw large numbers of their people into it. This uneven distribution of employment has lead to them seeking other races out to fill the jobs in their business which their own society cannot provide. Many also go to other worlds to seek better employment opportunities outside of the flooded employment market of their homeworld. At a young age all children are given a computer interface implant to aid in their education. Other races also purchase these implants from time to time, as they work with a variety of neural patterns as long as the proper firmware is installed on the chip.</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) Has'la walked down the road, traveling westward. He had left Houston the day before, and salvaged the few buildings that they came across. While most were picked clean, they did manage to find a storm cellar that most salvagers had missed. He had picked up a pair of boots, a few packs of cigarettes, and the like. It wasn't much, but it would buy them a room for the night and a hot meal. He stepped off of the road as a large truck drove by him. It was a pre-apocalyptic military truck by the looks of it, an old diesel vehicle. They weren't that rare, as suitable fuels were easy to produce. The truck was escorted by four Jeep Lightnings, all-electric vehicles with the classic Jeep military look. An hour later he saw the town on the horizon, with the hill overlooking it covered in Vertical Axis Wind Turbines. A few minutes later they came to a booth at the side of the road with a cable from the wind turbines running to it. A older model, and more worn Lightning was parked beside the booth. The booth was covered in charge cells, and a man sat behind it. "Excuse me, could I get some cells charged?" He laid a few depleted cells on the counter. "Sure," the man said, picking the cells up. He plugged them into a charging station and, a few seconds later, pulled them back out. "1.3 Valn." Has'la placed his wristcomp near the mans device and transferred the currency through it. The man used an Iphone 9 by the looks of it. An outdated piece of PA tech, but for transferring currency and simple communications it was sufficient. "Anything you like?" asked the man behind the booth, seeing Has'la looking over the cells on his stand. "Not really, I was hoping you would have a high-capacity cells, but you don't have any." "Actually, a trader just arrived a little while ago. He usually brings a few with him, to sell to the people in the town. I wish Icould go get a few, but if I leave the booth others will come by to steal power." "Speaking of that," said Has'la, "Why do you have so many VAWTs?" "The town and the Uranium mine need as much as we can give them. Solar isn't powerful enough, there's no Hydro around here, and my brother, his wife, and I don't have the skills needed to keep anything more complex running. We even have to ship the ore to Houston for refinement, as we don't have the power to refine it here, and if we ran a power line out here the bandits would just cut it." Has'la nodded. "In that case, I should get to town and see about buying one of those Ion charge cells. See you later." "Yeah, see ya." the man said as he walked away.</s> <\|message\|>Neptune Neptune strolled around the "street", looking at the small buildings that made up the settlement. He took note every day of the fact that this place could look better, but at the same time, the place looked better than many of the places he had seen out there. Plus, for as long as he had been here at least, there hadn't been hardly any conflict. The place showed signs of having relatively little recent battles. That either meant that this place was in a geographic sweet spot that made it undesirable or unnoticeable to the ill-willed people out there, ot they had een lucky. And luck only lasts so far. Neptune looked over at a pair of men hanging out in front of the bar. One of hem he recognized as a regular to the establishment, but the other guy he didn't know. The guy did give him a look that a criminal would have given a cop before the apocalypse. Neptune caught the look and decided to stop by and check things out. "Stan," he said with a nod. "I've told you time and time again, I hate when people shorten my name. It's Stanislaus," replied the man Neptune recognized. "Stan's just easier. I'm sure you understand, Stan. Who's your friend?" "He's no one. Just a passerby asking for directions." "I see... Well, good talking to you." Neptune said, walking away once more. The guy had either a problem with authority ir something he was trying to hide. Hopefully it is the former, but keeping an eye on a suspicious character gave him something to do. He decided not to go to far and wait.</s> <\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan It had been too long since she'd had a real rest. Her old Jeep Lightning was in desperate need of maintenance, although at this point calling it a Jeep anything was just nostalgia. Her Jeep had been rebuilt countless times and most of its parts were made from scrap metal and salvaged tech from wrecks. It was built to last but still always sounded like it was minutes from falling to pieces. Assorted panels of different alloys and materials were a testemant to it's patchwork assembly. Still it was hers and most lone salvagers didn't have their own vehicle. She cruised down the highway passing a charge station and a young human male on her way in to the city. Something about him caught her eye as she drove past. He looked to be close to his late twenties maybe thrity and by his gear she could tell that he was probably a salvager like her. Humans were good at adapting to change, it was something she envied about them. Most Azurians didn't see past their own caste and an unmarked low-born like T'Lora was just dust in the wind to the aristocrats back home. People on Earth looked at you differently. It didn't matter where you were born or what clan you happened to belong to here. Everyone was just trying to get by in their own way, even if that way meant preying on the weak. She passed a lot of houses on her way to the open market and even passed a bar. It wasn't anything special and was only noteworthy because it was the only building on the street that looked like an actual building instead of the rusted aluminum siding that most of the homes were made of. At least now she knew where to go when she wanted to get drunk.</s>	<\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) As Has'la approached the town, an old Jeep passed him, driven by an Azurian woman. She must be doing good for herself. he thought. Few people could afford a private vehicle. While the guy at the power station and the trader could afford them, they were much richer than the average townsperson. Judging by the cobbled-together nature of the vehicle, the alien woman was likely a skilled salvager, not one of the aliens that had come to Earth to fill the need for skilled workers. When he reached the town center about fifteen minutes later he found the trader that had driven by him. A few people were gathered round, looking at the merchandise he had brought with him, but the security guards made sure that none of them decided to pocket anything. Instead of looking at the goods on the table, Has'la walked up to the trader. "Excuse me, but do you have any high capacity ion charge cells?" he said. "Sorry, just sold my last one." "Well, then, do you have any ion fluid for them?" He asked. If you knew what you were doing, you could upgrade low-grade cells to double their capacity, but not increase their maximum charge or discharge rate. "I don't have any with me, but I do have some back at my shop. Ten liter minimum on a special order of it, though." "I can't use that much," said Has'la, "but I'm always coming across old, dead cells as salvage. Let me think about it. Can I get your contact code?" After getting the Trader's contact info, he thanked the man and went in search of the alien woman that had passed him. He passed a blue haired security guard that was watching two hoodlums in town. He didn't bother the man, though, as annoying a security guard while he was staking out criminals was a very bad idea. "Hi." he said, walking up to the alien woman, "nice Jeep. Looks like a per-apocalypse gas-burner that was refit with Lightning parts, possibly during the first ten years after it." For the first decade or so after the apocalypse, the single functional Jeep factory mostly worked on adapting the Lightning tech to newer and older tech, so that it could be used to refit old vessels with parts that would remain reverse compatible for centuries. He needed help and a vehicle if he was going to get to the salvage he had found, though. Even he wouldn't be able to cross such a hot zone on foot in time. "You look like a skilled salvager. I guess it's kind of unusual since you don't know me, but care to team up? I know where there's a fairly fresh Zathuran security patrol ship in a rad zone. With your vehicle and a few rad-resistance chems we could get inside the ship before getting badly irradiated. Once inside, we'll be able to pull more salvage than you've likely ever seen." True, it might be a bit stupid to tell a complete stranger about such a valuable find, but she didn't know where it was, and he really needed help and a vehicle if he was going to be able to salvage it. Maybe some extra muscle, too. Old, fresh, finds like that tended to have relatively intact automated security systems.</s>
<\|description\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) Age: 30 Appearance: Personality: Loves to learn more things constantly. A peaceful person, he prefers commerce and negotiation to battle, and will only fight another person in self defense. Skills: Engineering, computer use, electronics, physics Non-standard Abilities: Mutation: Radiation absorption: Metabolism feeds on Alpha, Beta, and Gamma radiation up to a certain level. If he absorbs too much, his radiation level will start to go down once he enters and low radiation area. This allows him to travel areas that would normally be dangerous for humans to be in. While metabolizing radiation cellular mitosis occurs faster, giving him up to a 5x healing rate. Bionic Implants: Computer interface: This implant can wirelessly access nearby computers and download data or control them. It allows perfect recall of any data stored on the device. It also stores his electronic currency behind a firewall so that it can't be stolen by run-of-the-mill thieves. Equipment: Dual Ion Rifle: Can switch between firing Negative Ions, which damage shields and electronics and stuns organic life, and Positive Ions, which heat up and burn targets, though it isn't as efficient at producing damage as a particle or laser weapon. Wrist-comp: A largely unnecessary computer on his forearm, he keeps it for its superior processing speed, Geiger counter, holo-projector, and long range communications array, essentially an overpowered cell phone. Backup power cells: Extra charges for his rifle or wristcomp. Sometimes used to bring derelict technology back to life. Personal shield generator: Found on a dead Slaver, it doesn't protect against many hits, especially from heavier guns, but it is enough to keep him from getting injured by a stray shot while diving for cover or moving between cover areas. Hyper-crystal necklace: Given to him as payment for repairing the reactor that almost killed him, he keeps it both for sentimental reasons and because it is both beautiful and valuable. The hypercrystal appears to contain a moving light within it, as the tachyons that enter it from hyperspace decay into photons when they enter our space-time continuum. Theoretically, the crystal could be used to power a hyperdrive, but he lacks the funds to build one. Bio: Shortly after birth, he was adopted by someone who could afford to properly raise a child on Earth, something which is fairly rare. Raised by a Zathuran engineer, Setta Feestra, who worked at a starport in one of the larger salvage cities by the name of Savannah, he studied science and technology from a young age. He left when he got old enough. His implant was a gift from his parent, and was manufactured on their homeworld. After leaving Savannah he traveled around, looking for a place where he could put his skills to work, earning a living by helping people. He learned of his mutation when a traveling wave reactor he was building for a city developed a radiation leak. He received a lethal dose of radiation and was expected to die, but over the next few days his radiation sickness went away, and his sores began to scab over. Within a week, he was reading as radiation free by the Geiger counters at the clinic. Since then he has made a decent living salvaging in lightly irradiated areas, as few people have tried salvaging them, and radiation suits and radiation treatment drugs are fairly expensive. Name: Zathuran (Zthu'rn) Homeworld: Zatha Specialization: Advanced tech, especially power, FTL, and scientific equipment. Appearance: Red, yellow, or sometimes Purple Humanoids. To the human eye they appear to have a mix of male and female features, such as male physique, but also having feminine facial features. They rarely have visible hair on their faces or heads, though what hair they do have is in shades of white, silver, or grey. Description: A race of hermaphrodites, they have a fairly diverse culture compared to many. The structure of their brains naturally makes it easier to understand advanced mathematics and physics, which has lead to many of them specializing in technology. In fact, their technology is the industry standard in the areas of hyperdrives and warp drives, as well as quantum singularity reactor technology. Their computer technology is also some of the best, as it has needed to be to do the calculations necessary for advanced physics research. Those that don't go into such fields often still enter a scientific field, causing a much larger than normal percent of their population to work in biology and the medical fields. They also have a rich culture of art, music, and philosophy which draw large numbers of their people into it. This uneven distribution of employment has lead to them seeking other races out to fill the jobs in their business which their own society cannot provide. Many also go to other worlds to seek better employment opportunities outside of the flooded employment market of their homeworld. At a young age all children are given a computer interface implant to aid in their education. Other races also purchase these implants from time to time, as they work with a variety of neural patterns as long as the proper firmware is installed on the chip.</s> <\|message\|>Neptune The sound of a running motor was hard to miss. Rolling down the road was a very rough looking vehicle. It almost looked homemade, and Neptune wouldn't have been surprised if it was considering the driver. An off-worlder whose blue skin color matched the shade of blue that was his natural hair color. He made note f this as he turned to see Stan and his partner had disappeared. He made note of the door that had just closed to the shop across the street, and walked over to see what was going on. Taking a peek into the bar to make sure they hadn't gone in there, he cracked open the door and poke his head in. No one had really noticed the door opening a little, and he was free to look without attention being drawn to him. A lot of drunkards in here, and even more people on there way to being drunk, he sighed. How could anyone drink their life away without ever having a desire to make a difference in the world? The answer eluded him and he shook his head after assuring his guys weren't in there. He closed the door and looked back at the shop across the street. Lo and behold, he could see through the window that two figures stood in front of the silhouette of a panicked clerk. Neptune's hunch was right, and before he could start running to the shop, the clerk dropped. It didn't take long after that for Neptune to bust through the doors of the shop. Stan and the stranger turned to see him without a weapon drawn, and made it a point to flash each of their shiny, sharp knives. Neptune calmly stood there without moving towards his weapons. "Put the weapons down and I'll go easy on you," he said, managing to only get a laugh out of the two men. Stan turned his knife upside down and held it by the blade, brought it back, and threw it at Neptune, who ducked out of the way of the blade hurtling towards his head. The two men charged at him, but now only one had a weapon. As the stranger brought his knife back to jab, Neptune stepped to the side, grabbed the strangers head, and slammed it against the wall, knocking him out cold in a single blow. Stan had enough time to land a blow on Neptune's jaw, but it didn't do too much, and Neptune quickly retaliated by grabbing Stan's arm as he went for the next punch, twisting it around behind his back, and pressing him firmly against the door. Helpless, he tried to shake free, but Neptune was stronger than he was and held him against the wall as he grabbed his other hand and held it behind his back. Using a zip tie- yeah, the town didn't have but one pair of handcuffs, and that set was in the possession of some other guard- he tied Stan's hands behind his back. He forced him to lay face first on the floor so he couldn't get up and run very quickly. Checking to see if the clerk was okay, Neptune walked around behind the counter. Luckily, he had only been punched as his only wound was a broken nose. He breathed a sigh of relief as he then thought about what to do with the two idiotic criminals.</s> <\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan After trading some scrap for a few fuses T'Lora opened the bonnet of her jeep and installed the new hardware. It wasn't a big job but it was necessary. Just as she finished she was approached by a human. "Hi." he said, walking up to the alien woman, "nice Jeep. Looks like a pre-apocalypse gas-burner that was refit with Lightning parts, possibly during the first ten years after it." "You've got a good eye, Human." "You look like a skilled salvager. I guess it's kind of unusual since you don't know me, but care to team up? I know where there's a fairly fresh Zathuran security patrol ship in a rad zone. With your vehicle and a few rad-resistance chems we could get inside the ship before getting badly irradiated. Once inside, we'll be able to pull more salvage than you've likely ever seen." "Straight to business. I like that." Most humans approached her for something other than work. Humans seemed to have a ridiculously active libido and always seemed like they were looking for potential mates. T'Lora sometimes used that to her advantage, she learned fairly early during her stay on Earth that if you made yourself more sexually appealing to humans they were more likely to be generous during trade offers although this time it didn't seem necessary. "More than I've ever seen, that's cute. I've been pulling wrecks since before you were born." Although that was true she said it jokingly. No need to sincerely insult the human, after all a security patrol ship was actually a decent find. "Getting past their security will be a pain though, it always is. Sounds good to me but we'll need a bit of muscle too. Assuming it's in good condition we'll need someone to carry the heavier equipment since Zathurans use fairly dense materials on their military ships."</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) "More than I've ever seen, that's cute. I've been pulling wrecks since before you were born." "Well, more in one place, maybe, not total. If it's as fresh as I hope, neither of us will have to worry about money for a while." "Getting past their security will be a pain though, it always is. Sounds good to me but we'll need a bit of muscle too. Assuming it's in good condition we'll need someone to carry the heavier equipment since Zathurans use fairly dense materials on their military ships." "True. And I doubt any of the exoskeletons are left in the cargo hold." Exoskeletons were valuable and in high demand due to the fact that they could roughly triple the amount you could lift. For that matter, they could triple the strength of your punch too. "As for some extra muscle, I'd look for an out of work security guard or caravan guard, maybe an anti-raider. There aren't many bounty hunters or mercs I'd trust on a job like this." Anti-raiders did to raiders and slavers what raiders and slavers did to normal people, and unlike bounty hunters, they didn't wait until enough people had been attacked or killed that the local law enforcment put a bounty out. Many raider camps had been slaughtered and looted by anti-raider parties. Because the anti-raiders didn't hurt non-outlaws, towns didn't mind having them around. "So, which one of us should go find one? We'll also need a trailer to haul stuff in. One of us will need to rent or buy one. And the Jeep will need a recharge, as the wreck is north of Houston and I don't want to risk running out of power out of power in a rad zone."</s> <\|message\|>Neptune Neptune stepped outside, knowing full well that the two individuals inside couldn't get out any way except through him. He waved a few guards and a wagon over to take away the captives. The wagon was for the wounded one. "Let's have these two put away for a bit. Alcohol may or may not have influenced their actions, and I want to find out." Neptune was fully aware of what happened to people who committed capital crimes, and if alcohol wasn't involved, they would definitely be let go with a simple ban from the bar. If not, well... The town couldn't afford to hold any prisoners for long, since there were only two rudimentarily put together cells. He just hoped that they were under the influence. Odd to think about at first, but at least they'd get a second chance. He began walking down the road again, whistling Yankee Doodle and hoping the rest of the day was calm.</s> <\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan "Qasan T'Lora..." She touched her right hand to her forehead and bowed slightly as is customary for her people. "...that all sounds like a good plan but I'm beat. I could use a rest and a good drink." She stretched her arms out and leaned back against her old jeep. Surely he wouldn't mind if they waited until the early morning. It was already getting late and a few hours rest would do her (and probably him too since he walked) a world of good. "Besides, if you want muscle in any town you start with the bar!" She smiled to herself, even if it was true she was still using it as an excuse to get drunk. It had been too long since T'Lora tasted a drop of anything other than recycled water and it was time to fix that. She started to climb back in the jeep. "Do you want to come along or should I just meet you somewhere?"</s>	<\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) "Sure." said Has'la. "Has'la Robinson." He held out his hand. "I've never really needed extra muscle for a job, but you seem to know better than me what to look for. I'll put a listing on the 'net, see if any ex security or caravan guards are looking, but I'll have them meet us in the bar at sundown. I'll meet you there as soon as I unload some junk and buy or rent a trailer for us. Shouldn't take long." After the conversation was over he walked into the general store she had just left and traded in the junk he had salvaged on the way for a few Valn. He then walked around the town until he found a trailer that met his needs. "Are you looking to sell?" he asked the old man who was unloading scrap steel from it. "Depends on how much you're offering." said the old man. "I still need the jeep, but I can borrow a trailer if I need one." After settling on a price, he arranged to pick it up tonight and went to the bar. There he found T'lora and sat down, ordering something to eat. "So, find anyone interesting yet?"</s>
<\|description\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) Age: 30 Appearance: Personality: Loves to learn more things constantly. A peaceful person, he prefers commerce and negotiation to battle, and will only fight another person in self defense. Skills: Engineering, computer use, electronics, physics Non-standard Abilities: Mutation: Radiation absorption: Metabolism feeds on Alpha, Beta, and Gamma radiation up to a certain level. If he absorbs too much, his radiation level will start to go down once he enters and low radiation area. This allows him to travel areas that would normally be dangerous for humans to be in. While metabolizing radiation cellular mitosis occurs faster, giving him up to a 5x healing rate. Bionic Implants: Computer interface: This implant can wirelessly access nearby computers and download data or control them. It allows perfect recall of any data stored on the device. It also stores his electronic currency behind a firewall so that it can't be stolen by run-of-the-mill thieves. Equipment: Dual Ion Rifle: Can switch between firing Negative Ions, which damage shields and electronics and stuns organic life, and Positive Ions, which heat up and burn targets, though it isn't as efficient at producing damage as a particle or laser weapon. Wrist-comp: A largely unnecessary computer on his forearm, he keeps it for its superior processing speed, Geiger counter, holo-projector, and long range communications array, essentially an overpowered cell phone. Backup power cells: Extra charges for his rifle or wristcomp. Sometimes used to bring derelict technology back to life. Personal shield generator: Found on a dead Slaver, it doesn't protect against many hits, especially from heavier guns, but it is enough to keep him from getting injured by a stray shot while diving for cover or moving between cover areas. Hyper-crystal necklace: Given to him as payment for repairing the reactor that almost killed him, he keeps it both for sentimental reasons and because it is both beautiful and valuable. The hypercrystal appears to contain a moving light within it, as the tachyons that enter it from hyperspace decay into photons when they enter our space-time continuum. Theoretically, the crystal could be used to power a hyperdrive, but he lacks the funds to build one. Bio: Shortly after birth, he was adopted by someone who could afford to properly raise a child on Earth, something which is fairly rare. Raised by a Zathuran engineer, Setta Feestra, who worked at a starport in one of the larger salvage cities by the name of Savannah, he studied science and technology from a young age. He left when he got old enough. His implant was a gift from his parent, and was manufactured on their homeworld. After leaving Savannah he traveled around, looking for a place where he could put his skills to work, earning a living by helping people. He learned of his mutation when a traveling wave reactor he was building for a city developed a radiation leak. He received a lethal dose of radiation and was expected to die, but over the next few days his radiation sickness went away, and his sores began to scab over. Within a week, he was reading as radiation free by the Geiger counters at the clinic. Since then he has made a decent living salvaging in lightly irradiated areas, as few people have tried salvaging them, and radiation suits and radiation treatment drugs are fairly expensive. Name: Zathuran (Zthu'rn) Homeworld: Zatha Specialization: Advanced tech, especially power, FTL, and scientific equipment. Appearance: Red, yellow, or sometimes Purple Humanoids. To the human eye they appear to have a mix of male and female features, such as male physique, but also having feminine facial features. They rarely have visible hair on their faces or heads, though what hair they do have is in shades of white, silver, or grey. Description: A race of hermaphrodites, they have a fairly diverse culture compared to many. The structure of their brains naturally makes it easier to understand advanced mathematics and physics, which has lead to many of them specializing in technology. In fact, their technology is the industry standard in the areas of hyperdrives and warp drives, as well as quantum singularity reactor technology. Their computer technology is also some of the best, as it has needed to be to do the calculations necessary for advanced physics research. Those that don't go into such fields often still enter a scientific field, causing a much larger than normal percent of their population to work in biology and the medical fields. They also have a rich culture of art, music, and philosophy which draw large numbers of their people into it. This uneven distribution of employment has lead to them seeking other races out to fill the jobs in their business which their own society cannot provide. Many also go to other worlds to seek better employment opportunities outside of the flooded employment market of their homeworld. At a young age all children are given a computer interface implant to aid in their education. Other races also purchase these implants from time to time, as they work with a variety of neural patterns as long as the proper firmware is installed on the chip.</s> <\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan T'Lora didn't waste any time getting drunk and by the time Has'la had caught up to her at the bar she was already halfway through her first bottle of tequila. Finding a mule for their upcoming salvage wouldn't be too hard. Looking across the room she could see plenty of strong young humans. "Take yur pick. Any o' these mules'll do." She was more concerned with her bottle at this point and paid no mind to the man trying to make a sale. If there was one thing T'Lora was good at, it was drinking.</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) As soon as Has'la sat down he could tell T'Lora was drunk. It didn't matter, though. She might have a bit of a hangover in the morning, but for the night there wasn't any reason not to drink once they were ready. "Take yur pick. Any o' these mules'll do." "For hauling the stuff, sure, but none of them look like the type to brave an automated security system, especially when they find out how small of a percentage they'll get for their troubles. Hopefully someone better will show up so that we don't have to hire one of them." The waitress, the Bartender's granddaughter he assumed, brought his food over. He had decided to have a decent meal for a change and had ordered the vegetable "beef" stew, some boiled peanuts (for extra protein, as he hadn't had much recently) and a bottle of soda. He ordered a bottle of Jack when she brought his food, then started to eat. Surprisingly, while the meat was likely dog or some wild mammal in the area, it contained real beef stock. Animal products, at least the farmed kind, were expensive and hard to come by. They had likely bought theirs from the farms near Dallas and had it shipped in. Pretty expensive, but then it was for their higher-end food, so the customers were willing to pay. Just as the waitress was leaving a man with a cybernetic eye walked up. "Hey there! You the guy looking for high-cap power cells?" "Depends on how much you're charging." he said. If they were new, they could go for as much as thirty Valn each. Good rebuilds would still go for fifteen or twenty Valn each. He looked at one and was surprised. Most of the "high grades" you came across were actually mid-grades, low-grades that were refilled with high-grade fluid. These were actual rebuilt high-grades, though. Which was a bit suspicious. The only reliable sources of high-grades were factories, none of which rebuilt them, and Raiders, who kept large numbers around for their weapons. "Nice cells," he said, "but I'm curious where they came from." The man didn't look like an anti-raider, and raiders had been known to send their more recent members into towns to resell stuff they'd taken from their raids. If a group was getting desperate, they might even try to sell surplus power cells. The cells might also be stolen from a shop in the area, most likely Houston. That would be almost as bad, though if he found out who they were stolen from he might arrange to return them for some sort of reward, maybe even a free cell or two.</s> <\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut "All refurbished," Harry answered honestly, "Picked 'em up out in the wastes, stripped 'em down and rebuilt them myself. Can't honestly say they'll run as good as new, but I'll stake my name on them being better quality than most you'll find in these parts." As he spoke Harry pulled his satchel around to show the stranger the pile he had inside, which just so happened to also nudge the stunner on his hip forward subtly, just in case the guy got any bright ideas. "Got twelve of 'em right now and could let them go at 200 for the set, or trade if you'd prefer." Harry let his eyes drift over to the man's companion, taking in the details as casually as he could so as not to offend her. She was a fine looking beast, the kind he might've tried for a tumble with had it not been for the obvious smell of liquor wafting from her direction. He'd learnt the hard way that a woman who took solace in the bottom of a bottle may be good for a night, but would be far less friendly once the booze's glow dimmed and the pounding headaches started. They also tended to be a little forgetful about little details in the heat of the moment, such as angry husbands, or in one memorable case an angry wife.</s> <\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan T'Lora listened carefully to the man's deal. He seemed fairly confident that her new friend would pay up 200 for his wares. She almost choked on her tequila when she let out a laugh mid-drink. "Those ain't wurt two hundo. You 'furbished 'em yurself so yur not coverin' cost of havin' some tech junkie fix 'em up fur you." She looked at Has'la. "Give 'im one fitty, that's fair." Satisfied with her response she returned to her glass half full of the fermented juice of desert agave fruit. Liquor was something she discovered on Earth since the castless weren't allowed to have liquor of any kind, instead given the simplest of ales made with very low quality fruits. T'Lora honestly couldn't care less about the power cells but she recognized the look he gave her when he walked up to them. Either he knew that she was casteless or he was one of those humans that dislikes foreigners on 'his' planet. Either way she knew that they wouldn't get along from the start. He was clearly good at his craft though, the power cells looked like they were thoroughly taken care of, or she was too drunk already to tell a good cell from a bad one.</s> <\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut With a sigh Harry loaded the power cells back into his pack and began to fasten it up. "Sorry, the price is two hundred, take it or leave it." He said shaking his head sadly, "This is high-grade equipment and if it's too expensive for you then I guess I'll have to take 'em elsewhere." He wasn't sure why he was even bothering to talk to the Blueberry, she was obviously too drunk to even understand him properly and for a moment he wondered why the trader would even bother to hang around with her. Then his gaze slipped down several inches and he realised exactly why. Looking back up at T'Lora's face with a knowing grin he turned to go, "Well, I guess I'll leave you two to your romantic evening. Hope you both enjoy yourselves."</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) He knew the guy's "I'm going to leave now" thing was just a show to get him to not ask further questions or haggle any more, but he didn't care. He could use those cells. "I don't have two hundred." said Has'la, telling the truth. After buying that trailer he had a grand total of 187.63 Valn left, and they still had to fill the jeep up before leaving. "But I'm leaving tomorrow to pull some salvage. When I get back I'll have plenty. Or, you could come with us. I'll need some extra muscle to protect us when we haul it back and in case there's any automated defenses left intact when we get there. I could also use the help moving the heavier stuff. You can come with us, help us out in that regard, and I'll pay you one hundred for your troubles. I'll even buy the cells off of you when we get back and I sale my salvage. What do you think?" He hoped the man would take the offer, as he didn't have much else to add to it.</s> <\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut Already half turned away from the table Harry paused. "Automated defenses?" He asked, intrigued. There were only a few places he knew of where those things were still operating after all these years and all of them were well worth the trip, if you could crack them. Lowering his pack to the floor Harry leant over the table as he looked into the stranger's eyes. He'd heard some people say you could tell whether someone was lying to you or not by looking into their eyes when they spoke, but he'd found looming over them with a glaring cybernetic eye loosened more tongues that blind faith. With his eyepiece whirring and clicking he quickly scanned the man, his readout picking out the wristcomp, shield generator and interesting bauble hanging round his neck. "I'll tell you what," He began, trying to sound offhand and disinterested, "I'll join your party and I'll even let you have the power cells for now. In exchange I want first claim on any off the automated defenses that we encounter, and you'll hand me that necklace of yours for insurance. If it turns out we don't find anything worthwhile then I keep the necklace and you pay me my 200, if we hit paydirt then you get the bauble back and we call it quits. "Of course, if you happen to not survive the trip, then I'll keep the keepsake, obviously." He finished with a friendly grin.</s>	<\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) "The necklace has too much value, sentimental and monetary, for me to even consider using it as collateral on something like this. I'll put up the hundred Valn and my shield generator, provided you let me wear it until we verify that there aren't any automated defenses before turning it over to you. If you get at least their value worth of salvage from the automated defenses, then you give them back. If not, you're up one hundred Valn and a working shield generator for, at most, two days worth of work. I doubt you'll get a better deal than that for protecting anyone else." True, he didn't have much to put up for collateral, but for most guard types that would be more than enough to hire them.</s>
<\|description\|>Neptune Age: 19 Appearance: Personality: Neptune is highly confident, to the point of being borderline cocky. He is mostly calm, and he is indifferent to fighting, as his skills revolve around it but yet he doesn't get his kicks from it. Skills: Master strategist/tactician, expert at CQC with his unique weapon, very observant. Non-standard Abilities: Healing factor with a strength that would heal deep gashes in roughly an hour. Equipment: Prototype weapon from before the apocalypse that has some dependency on being electrically powered, but its fuel cell has a long enough life to never have to worry about charging or replacing it. It is a gun that shoots a highly concentrated blast of energy which explodes on impact that can also transform into a guandao and a trident. It also features a compact form for convenience's sake. Guandao: Trident: Gun: Compact: Neptune also carries a standard combat knife in his boot and has a basic handgun for moments where he needs a gun fast. Bio: Neptune knows nothing if his early past. So little, in fact, that he not only never knew either of his parents, but never learned his own true name. He spent life as a nomad in the wasteland, going from town to town, working with a salvage team. Eventually, after looting a unique weapon from a derelict testing facility, people stopped calling him his old nickname, simply "Blue" or "Little Blue", and they started calling him Neptune as a reference to the trident form of the weapon he found. One settlement he had been in was expected to be attacked very soon. He decided to help plan for the defense, and at first no one took him seriously. Very soon, however, the others who were planning with him realized he had a natural instinct for planning for battles. With Neptune's plan, the town was safely defended from the small band of slavers that had come for it. After that small taste of glory, Neptune left the salvage group and moved to another town (after a few months of walking), unsure of where to go or what to do next.</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) Has'la walked down the road, traveling westward. He had left Houston the day before, and salvaged the few buildings that they came across. While most were picked clean, they did manage to find a storm cellar that most salvagers had missed. He had picked up a pair of boots, a few packs of cigarettes, and the like. It wasn't much, but it would buy them a room for the night and a hot meal. He stepped off of the road as a large truck drove by him. It was a pre-apocalyptic military truck by the looks of it, an old diesel vehicle. They weren't that rare, as suitable fuels were easy to produce. The truck was escorted by four Jeep Lightnings, all-electric vehicles with the classic Jeep military look. An hour later he saw the town on the horizon, with the hill overlooking it covered in Vertical Axis Wind Turbines. A few minutes later they came to a booth at the side of the road with a cable from the wind turbines running to it. A older model, and more worn Lightning was parked beside the booth. The booth was covered in charge cells, and a man sat behind it. "Excuse me, could I get some cells charged?" He laid a few depleted cells on the counter. "Sure," the man said, picking the cells up. He plugged them into a charging station and, a few seconds later, pulled them back out. "1.3 Valn." Has'la placed his wristcomp near the mans device and transferred the currency through it. The man used an Iphone 9 by the looks of it. An outdated piece of PA tech, but for transferring currency and simple communications it was sufficient. "Anything you like?" asked the man behind the booth, seeing Has'la looking over the cells on his stand. "Not really, I was hoping you would have a high-capacity cells, but you don't have any." "Actually, a trader just arrived a little while ago. He usually brings a few with him, to sell to the people in the town. I wish Icould go get a few, but if I leave the booth others will come by to steal power." "Speaking of that," said Has'la, "Why do you have so many VAWTs?" "The town and the Uranium mine need as much as we can give them. Solar isn't powerful enough, there's no Hydro around here, and my brother, his wife, and I don't have the skills needed to keep anything more complex running. We even have to ship the ore to Houston for refinement, as we don't have the power to refine it here, and if we ran a power line out here the bandits would just cut it." Has'la nodded. "In that case, I should get to town and see about buying one of those Ion charge cells. See you later." "Yeah, see ya." the man said as he walked away.</s> <\|message\|>Neptune Neptune strolled around the "street", looking at the small buildings that made up the settlement. He took note every day of the fact that this place could look better, but at the same time, the place looked better than many of the places he had seen out there. Plus, for as long as he had been here at least, there hadn't been hardly any conflict. The place showed signs of having relatively little recent battles. That either meant that this place was in a geographic sweet spot that made it undesirable or unnoticeable to the ill-willed people out there, ot they had een lucky. And luck only lasts so far. Neptune looked over at a pair of men hanging out in front of the bar. One of hem he recognized as a regular to the establishment, but the other guy he didn't know. The guy did give him a look that a criminal would have given a cop before the apocalypse. Neptune caught the look and decided to stop by and check things out. "Stan," he said with a nod. "I've told you time and time again, I hate when people shorten my name. It's Stanislaus," replied the man Neptune recognized. "Stan's just easier. I'm sure you understand, Stan. Who's your friend?" "He's no one. Just a passerby asking for directions." "I see... Well, good talking to you." Neptune said, walking away once more. The guy had either a problem with authority ir something he was trying to hide. Hopefully it is the former, but keeping an eye on a suspicious character gave him something to do. He decided not to go to far and wait.</s> <\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan It had been too long since she'd had a real rest. Her old Jeep Lightning was in desperate need of maintenance, although at this point calling it a Jeep anything was just nostalgia. Her Jeep had been rebuilt countless times and most of its parts were made from scrap metal and salvaged tech from wrecks. It was built to last but still always sounded like it was minutes from falling to pieces. Assorted panels of different alloys and materials were a testemant to it's patchwork assembly. Still it was hers and most lone salvagers didn't have their own vehicle. She cruised down the highway passing a charge station and a young human male on her way in to the city. Something about him caught her eye as she drove past. He looked to be close to his late twenties maybe thrity and by his gear she could tell that he was probably a salvager like her. Humans were good at adapting to change, it was something she envied about them. Most Azurians didn't see past their own caste and an unmarked low-born like T'Lora was just dust in the wind to the aristocrats back home. People on Earth looked at you differently. It didn't matter where you were born or what clan you happened to belong to here. Everyone was just trying to get by in their own way, even if that way meant preying on the weak. She passed a lot of houses on her way to the open market and even passed a bar. It wasn't anything special and was only noteworthy because it was the only building on the street that looked like an actual building instead of the rusted aluminum siding that most of the homes were made of. At least now she knew where to go when she wanted to get drunk.</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) As Has'la approached the town, an old Jeep passed him, driven by an Azurian woman. She must be doing good for herself. he thought. Few people could afford a private vehicle. While the guy at the power station and the trader could afford them, they were much richer than the average townsperson. Judging by the cobbled-together nature of the vehicle, the alien woman was likely a skilled salvager, not one of the aliens that had come to Earth to fill the need for skilled workers. When he reached the town center about fifteen minutes later he found the trader that had driven by him. A few people were gathered round, looking at the merchandise he had brought with him, but the security guards made sure that none of them decided to pocket anything. Instead of looking at the goods on the table, Has'la walked up to the trader. "Excuse me, but do you have any high capacity ion charge cells?" he said. "Sorry, just sold my last one." "Well, then, do you have any ion fluid for them?" He asked. If you knew what you were doing, you could upgrade low-grade cells to double their capacity, but not increase their maximum charge or discharge rate. "I don't have any with me, but I do have some back at my shop. Ten liter minimum on a special order of it, though." "I can't use that much," said Has'la, "but I'm always coming across old, dead cells as salvage. Let me think about it. Can I get your contact code?" After getting the Trader's contact info, he thanked the man and went in search of the alien woman that had passed him. He passed a blue haired security guard that was watching two hoodlums in town. He didn't bother the man, though, as annoying a security guard while he was staking out criminals was a very bad idea. "Hi." he said, walking up to the alien woman, "nice Jeep. Looks like a per-apocalypse gas-burner that was refit with Lightning parts, possibly during the first ten years after it." For the first decade or so after the apocalypse, the single functional Jeep factory mostly worked on adapting the Lightning tech to newer and older tech, so that it could be used to refit old vessels with parts that would remain reverse compatible for centuries. He needed help and a vehicle if he was going to get to the salvage he had found, though. Even he wouldn't be able to cross such a hot zone on foot in time. "You look like a skilled salvager. I guess it's kind of unusual since you don't know me, but care to team up? I know where there's a fairly fresh Zathuran security patrol ship in a rad zone. With your vehicle and a few rad-resistance chems we could get inside the ship before getting badly irradiated. Once inside, we'll be able to pull more salvage than you've likely ever seen." True, it might be a bit stupid to tell a complete stranger about such a valuable find, but she didn't know where it was, and he really needed help and a vehicle if he was going to be able to salvage it. Maybe some extra muscle, too. Old, fresh, finds like that tended to have relatively intact automated security systems.</s>	<\|message\|>Neptune The sound of a running motor was hard to miss. Rolling down the road was a very rough looking vehicle. It almost looked homemade, and Neptune wouldn't have been surprised if it was considering the driver. An off-worlder whose blue skin color matched the shade of blue that was his natural hair color. He made note f this as he turned to see Stan and his partner had disappeared. He made note of the door that had just closed to the shop across the street, and walked over to see what was going on. Taking a peek into the bar to make sure they hadn't gone in there, he cracked open the door and poke his head in. No one had really noticed the door opening a little, and he was free to look without attention being drawn to him. A lot of drunkards in here, and even more people on there way to being drunk, he sighed. How could anyone drink their life away without ever having a desire to make a difference in the world? The answer eluded him and he shook his head after assuring his guys weren't in there. He closed the door and looked back at the shop across the street. Lo and behold, he could see through the window that two figures stood in front of the silhouette of a panicked clerk. Neptune's hunch was right, and before he could start running to the shop, the clerk dropped. It didn't take long after that for Neptune to bust through the doors of the shop. Stan and the stranger turned to see him without a weapon drawn, and made it a point to flash each of their shiny, sharp knives. Neptune calmly stood there without moving towards his weapons. "Put the weapons down and I'll go easy on you," he said, managing to only get a laugh out of the two men. Stan turned his knife upside down and held it by the blade, brought it back, and threw it at Neptune, who ducked out of the way of the blade hurtling towards his head. The two men charged at him, but now only one had a weapon. As the stranger brought his knife back to jab, Neptune stepped to the side, grabbed the strangers head, and slammed it against the wall, knocking him out cold in a single blow. Stan had enough time to land a blow on Neptune's jaw, but it didn't do too much, and Neptune quickly retaliated by grabbing Stan's arm as he went for the next punch, twisting it around behind his back, and pressing him firmly against the door. Helpless, he tried to shake free, but Neptune was stronger than he was and held him against the wall as he grabbed his other hand and held it behind his back. Using a zip tie- yeah, the town didn't have but one pair of handcuffs, and that set was in the possession of some other guard- he tied Stan's hands behind his back. He forced him to lay face first on the floor so he couldn't get up and run very quickly. Checking to see if the clerk was okay, Neptune walked around behind the counter. Luckily, he had only been punched as his only wound was a broken nose. He breathed a sigh of relief as he then thought about what to do with the two idiotic criminals.</s>
<\|description\|>Neptune Age: 19 Appearance: Personality: Neptune is highly confident, to the point of being borderline cocky. He is mostly calm, and he is indifferent to fighting, as his skills revolve around it but yet he doesn't get his kicks from it. Skills: Master strategist/tactician, expert at CQC with his unique weapon, very observant. Non-standard Abilities: Healing factor with a strength that would heal deep gashes in roughly an hour. Equipment: Prototype weapon from before the apocalypse that has some dependency on being electrically powered, but its fuel cell has a long enough life to never have to worry about charging or replacing it. It is a gun that shoots a highly concentrated blast of energy which explodes on impact that can also transform into a guandao and a trident. It also features a compact form for convenience's sake. Guandao: Trident: Gun: Compact: Neptune also carries a standard combat knife in his boot and has a basic handgun for moments where he needs a gun fast. Bio: Neptune knows nothing if his early past. So little, in fact, that he not only never knew either of his parents, but never learned his own true name. He spent life as a nomad in the wasteland, going from town to town, working with a salvage team. Eventually, after looting a unique weapon from a derelict testing facility, people stopped calling him his old nickname, simply "Blue" or "Little Blue", and they started calling him Neptune as a reference to the trident form of the weapon he found. One settlement he had been in was expected to be attacked very soon. He decided to help plan for the defense, and at first no one took him seriously. Very soon, however, the others who were planning with him realized he had a natural instinct for planning for battles. With Neptune's plan, the town was safely defended from the small band of slavers that had come for it. After that small taste of glory, Neptune left the salvage group and moved to another town (after a few months of walking), unsure of where to go or what to do next.</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) "More than I've ever seen, that's cute. I've been pulling wrecks since before you were born." "Well, more in one place, maybe, not total. If it's as fresh as I hope, neither of us will have to worry about money for a while." "Getting past their security will be a pain though, it always is. Sounds good to me but we'll need a bit of muscle too. Assuming it's in good condition we'll need someone to carry the heavier equipment since Zathurans use fairly dense materials on their military ships." "True. And I doubt any of the exoskeletons are left in the cargo hold." Exoskeletons were valuable and in high demand due to the fact that they could roughly triple the amount you could lift. For that matter, they could triple the strength of your punch too. "As for some extra muscle, I'd look for an out of work security guard or caravan guard, maybe an anti-raider. There aren't many bounty hunters or mercs I'd trust on a job like this." Anti-raiders did to raiders and slavers what raiders and slavers did to normal people, and unlike bounty hunters, they didn't wait until enough people had been attacked or killed that the local law enforcment put a bounty out. Many raider camps had been slaughtered and looted by anti-raider parties. Because the anti-raiders didn't hurt non-outlaws, towns didn't mind having them around. "So, which one of us should go find one? We'll also need a trailer to haul stuff in. One of us will need to rent or buy one. And the Jeep will need a recharge, as the wreck is north of Houston and I don't want to risk running out of power out of power in a rad zone."</s> <\|message\|>Neptune Neptune stepped outside, knowing full well that the two individuals inside couldn't get out any way except through him. He waved a few guards and a wagon over to take away the captives. The wagon was for the wounded one. "Let's have these two put away for a bit. Alcohol may or may not have influenced their actions, and I want to find out." Neptune was fully aware of what happened to people who committed capital crimes, and if alcohol wasn't involved, they would definitely be let go with a simple ban from the bar. If not, well... The town couldn't afford to hold any prisoners for long, since there were only two rudimentarily put together cells. He just hoped that they were under the influence. Odd to think about at first, but at least they'd get a second chance. He began walking down the road again, whistling Yankee Doodle and hoping the rest of the day was calm.</s> <\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan "Qasan T'Lora..." She touched her right hand to her forehead and bowed slightly as is customary for her people. "...that all sounds like a good plan but I'm beat. I could use a rest and a good drink." She stretched her arms out and leaned back against her old jeep. Surely he wouldn't mind if they waited until the early morning. It was already getting late and a few hours rest would do her (and probably him too since he walked) a world of good. "Besides, if you want muscle in any town you start with the bar!" She smiled to herself, even if it was true she was still using it as an excuse to get drunk. It had been too long since T'Lora tasted a drop of anything other than recycled water and it was time to fix that. She started to climb back in the jeep. "Do you want to come along or should I just meet you somewhere?"</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) "Sure." said Has'la. "Has'la Robinson." He held out his hand. "I've never really needed extra muscle for a job, but you seem to know better than me what to look for. I'll put a listing on the 'net, see if any ex security or caravan guards are looking, but I'll have them meet us in the bar at sundown. I'll meet you there as soon as I unload some junk and buy or rent a trailer for us. Shouldn't take long." After the conversation was over he walked into the general store she had just left and traded in the junk he had salvaged on the way for a few Valn. He then walked around the town until he found a trailer that met his needs. "Are you looking to sell?" he asked the old man who was unloading scrap steel from it. "Depends on how much you're offering." said the old man. "I still need the jeep, but I can borrow a trailer if I need one." After settling on a price, he arranged to pick it up tonight and went to the bar. There he found T'lora and sat down, ordering something to eat. "So, find anyone interesting yet?"</s> <\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut The light was dimming and the Radcycle grumbled between Harry's legs as he crested the last hill and looked down over the town in the distance. It didn't look like much this far out, a cluster of prefab dwellings with a couple of more permanent structures at the heart of the town, most likely the bank and the jail if he guessed right. Not that he cared that much, there wouldn't be many in a town this far out from the central cities that'd be interested in the wares he had to offer. Turning the handlebars Harry kicked the bike up into high gear, heading for the cluster of turbines scattered further along the rise. It always paid off to make an entrance in small settlements like this, especially when your guns were clearly holstered at your side. Not that Harry intended to threaten them in any way, but the sight of the longarm often helped get a good price for some of his scrap, if only to ensure he left quickly without having to draw the weapon. Pulling up beside the sales booth Harry kicked the cycle into parking before hauling himself up out of the saddle. He'd been driving for the better part of three days and his legs were still tingling from the constant vibrations the bike's electric engine gave off as it ran. Taking a moment to rub some lift back into his tired muscles Harry reached down and tightened the exo-brace which helped keep his leg together, or at least that's the impression it gave. In truth his legs were just as good, if not better, than most human's his age. He'd been told that was part of the genetic inheritance he'd gained from his father's side of the family, not that he'd ever bothered to ask exactly what that meant. Moving to the back of his vehicle Harry quickly yanked a large satchel up onto his shoulder before reaching down with both hands and hauling an old engine block up from the storage compartment. With an over-acted shuffle he quickly made his way over to the counter, waiting a moment as the attendant cleared some space for him before setting the heavy piece of machinery down. "There you go Simon," Harry said smugly, "One Lightning engine, as promised." "You're a wonder Harry," The attendant replied warmly, rising up from his seat to examine his new prize with obvious excitement. His eyes lit up a moment later as he stroked his hands down the side of the micro-element manifold. "Damn... flawless manifold, almost all shock plugs still intact... where'd you find this?" Harry shook his head with a smile, "You know better than to ask things like that Simon. All I can say is that there's no previous owner likely to come looking for it." With that Harry pulled a battered old tablet from his satchel and with a swipe of his finger brought up his financial management program. "Now, as for business..?" "No problem," Simon said, his iPhone already in hand as he tapped in the credit transfer. A moment later Harry nodded happily as the payment registered on his pad. "Got something else for you too, prime grade power cells." Pulling the satchel mouth wider Harry let Simon take a peak at the high-capacity cells piled inside, each gleaming as if they'd only just come off of the assembly line. In truth they were all refurbished and drained, but with as little charging they'd work just as good as they looked. Simon shook his head sadly. "I'd love to take them from you Harry, but business ain't too good right now and this has wiped out my readies. Best I can do is point you to a fella in town, he was in a earlier today looking for high-cap cells and had the look of someone who'd be looking to settle for the night. If you're lucky he might still be looking to trade." "Yeah?" Harry said, tucking his tablet back in the pouch as he glanced down the road towards the town. "He look good for the money?" "He was wearing a fancy wrist-comp and said he was gonna be buying an ion charge cell, so he'll have some scratch to play with. Best hurry though, might not want to buy if you leave it too long." Harry smiled, a customer with ready cash, always a good thing for a scavenger. "Thanks for the tip. See ya soon." With that Harry turned back to the Radcycle, stowing the power cells in back before kicking the engine into life. Moment later he was speeding down the roadway into the town, heading for the town centre. As he pulled up he spotted the sparse crowd clustered around the old truck belonging to a trader he'd dealt with a few times in the past, not always with a mutually agreeable outcome. Turning away from the market Harry made his way towards the bar with his satchel hanging down at his side. Stepping through the door he could see the usually evening crowd clustered at their usual tables. In one corner a card game of some sort had started up and already several knick-knacks and gadgets were resting piled in the middle of the table. A quick glance told him the gadgets were all low-quality junk, including a couple of pieces he recognised as his own finds from a few weeks earlier. Turning away he was about to head back out the door when he spotted a rough looking man sitting with a Blueberry off to one side. He didn't recognise either of them, but the man's wrist-comp was distinctive. 'What the hell,' He thought to himself, 'It's worth a shot at least.' Lifting his arm in the air with a friendly wave, which also gave everyone a good view of the custom stunner hanging from his belt, just in case, Harry called out to the man as he stepped up towards the table. "Hey there! You the guy looking for high-cap power cells?"</s>	<\|message\|>Neptune Neptune sighed. As the night drew closer, he found himself getting hungry. There weren't many places he could eat while he was in duty, but the bar offered a deal where guards could eat for free as long as they stepped in and helped in any confrontation that occurred while they were there. He decided he'd save a penny and eat there, knowing full well what the conditions were. He stepped into the bar, immediately recognizing the people within. Mostly potential troublemakers, but a few were not. Namely the two who were to soon begin a conversation. "High-cap power cells?..." Neptune muttered under his breath. A bit if a high goal to strive for, if he knew anything about power, which he did. He watched the man who spoke up out of the corner of his eye, in case an underhanded trade was in the works here in the bar. It wouldn't be surprising, considering that the bar is where the root of most of Neptune's problems arose. "What c'n I do ya fer" the bartender said, snapping Neptune out of his trance. An older fellow who was missing most of his teeth. Neptune didn't blame the guy for his manner of speech, considering this. "What do you have in stock as far as meals go, Sherm?" "Jus' gotta box fulla country fried steaks. Still good, ta. Surprising, ain't it?" "Never had one before. If you're right about them still being good, I'll take that then. With some potatoes." "Comin' up!" "Thank you." Neptune looked around again, waiting to see if anything was going to happen. He couldn't help but feel as if he needed to get to know some people, but he moved from settlement to settlement so much that he just didn't bother anymore.</s>
<\|description\|>T'Lora Qasan Age: 84 Personality: Observant and thoughtful. She values her wits over strength and her years on Earth have taught her to be resourceful and think on her feet. Generally avoids confrontation unless there is no alternative. Skills: Speaks Azurian, Zathuran, and English Piloting Driving Expert Azurian Tech Knowledge Moderate Zathuran & Human Tech Knowledge Superb Reflexes Non-standard Abilities: Temperatures under freezing are deadly Can hear supersonic and subsonic noise Equipment: Jul'Taya- an Azurain self-defense weapon barely bigger than your hand, it's compact size makes it a favorite among Azurian pilots. It fires a concentrated electromagnetic pulse strong enough to disrupt technological systems or knock out attackers, hitting someone repeatedly can be deadly. Engineering toolkit- although her expertise is in piloting she's picked up enough over the years to know how to fix just about anything. Bio: T'Lora was born on Azura in the southern hemisphere. Once she reached maturity at the age of 25 she started learning how to pilot aircraft and later moved up to spacecraft. About fifty years ago T'Lora volunteered to join a relief effort on a distant planet known as Earth. The planet itself had been scarred by catastrophe but she found that Humans were adaptable beings and made the best of their crippled world. T'Lora did her part shuttling supplies down to fledgling settlements. Just as there are good and bad Azurains there are good and bad Humans however, this was a lesson she learned quickly when her shuttle was commandeered by marauding Humans and Zathurans eager to get off the planet. T'Lora was left behind as she watched her shuttle being blown out of the sky for attacking the mother ship. Unfortunately she was also presumed dead and her low birth meant that no one in particular would miss her. T'Lora was forced to make Earth her new home. Even a scarred and mutated planet has it's own charm, although the winter months could be especially brutal in some places. Despite the circumstances that brought her here she doesn't really dislike Earth or Humans at all and finds herself wandering from town to town simply for the sake of traveling. Given the chance she would fly back to the endless sea of stars to explore even more new places. Species: Azurian (Az'Riann) Homeworld: Azura (Az'Ra) Specialization: Advanced Medical Science, Biology, Appearance: Description: Although Azurians are technically asexual they are typically referred to as an 'all female' species due to their physical and anatomical similarities to Human women. Their average life-span is roughly 500 years. Originating from a volcanically active planet with small island continents, Azurians prefer warm and humid climates. It's not uncommon to see them bundled up in layers during forty degree weather. Azurains aren't too common on Earth but there are a decent number of them in the larger population centers.</s> <\|message\|>Neptune Neptune strolled around the "street", looking at the small buildings that made up the settlement. He took note every day of the fact that this place could look better, but at the same time, the place looked better than many of the places he had seen out there. Plus, for as long as he had been here at least, there hadn't been hardly any conflict. The place showed signs of having relatively little recent battles. That either meant that this place was in a geographic sweet spot that made it undesirable or unnoticeable to the ill-willed people out there, ot they had een lucky. And luck only lasts so far. Neptune looked over at a pair of men hanging out in front of the bar. One of hem he recognized as a regular to the establishment, but the other guy he didn't know. The guy did give him a look that a criminal would have given a cop before the apocalypse. Neptune caught the look and decided to stop by and check things out. "Stan," he said with a nod. "I've told you time and time again, I hate when people shorten my name. It's Stanislaus," replied the man Neptune recognized. "Stan's just easier. I'm sure you understand, Stan. Who's your friend?" "He's no one. Just a passerby asking for directions." "I see... Well, good talking to you." Neptune said, walking away once more. The guy had either a problem with authority ir something he was trying to hide. Hopefully it is the former, but keeping an eye on a suspicious character gave him something to do. He decided not to go to far and wait.</s> <\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan It had been too long since she'd had a real rest. Her old Jeep Lightning was in desperate need of maintenance, although at this point calling it a Jeep anything was just nostalgia. Her Jeep had been rebuilt countless times and most of its parts were made from scrap metal and salvaged tech from wrecks. It was built to last but still always sounded like it was minutes from falling to pieces. Assorted panels of different alloys and materials were a testemant to it's patchwork assembly. Still it was hers and most lone salvagers didn't have their own vehicle. She cruised down the highway passing a charge station and a young human male on her way in to the city. Something about him caught her eye as she drove past. He looked to be close to his late twenties maybe thrity and by his gear she could tell that he was probably a salvager like her. Humans were good at adapting to change, it was something she envied about them. Most Azurians didn't see past their own caste and an unmarked low-born like T'Lora was just dust in the wind to the aristocrats back home. People on Earth looked at you differently. It didn't matter where you were born or what clan you happened to belong to here. Everyone was just trying to get by in their own way, even if that way meant preying on the weak. She passed a lot of houses on her way to the open market and even passed a bar. It wasn't anything special and was only noteworthy because it was the only building on the street that looked like an actual building instead of the rusted aluminum siding that most of the homes were made of. At least now she knew where to go when she wanted to get drunk.</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) As Has'la approached the town, an old Jeep passed him, driven by an Azurian woman. She must be doing good for herself. he thought. Few people could afford a private vehicle. While the guy at the power station and the trader could afford them, they were much richer than the average townsperson. Judging by the cobbled-together nature of the vehicle, the alien woman was likely a skilled salvager, not one of the aliens that had come to Earth to fill the need for skilled workers. When he reached the town center about fifteen minutes later he found the trader that had driven by him. A few people were gathered round, looking at the merchandise he had brought with him, but the security guards made sure that none of them decided to pocket anything. Instead of looking at the goods on the table, Has'la walked up to the trader. "Excuse me, but do you have any high capacity ion charge cells?" he said. "Sorry, just sold my last one." "Well, then, do you have any ion fluid for them?" He asked. If you knew what you were doing, you could upgrade low-grade cells to double their capacity, but not increase their maximum charge or discharge rate. "I don't have any with me, but I do have some back at my shop. Ten liter minimum on a special order of it, though." "I can't use that much," said Has'la, "but I'm always coming across old, dead cells as salvage. Let me think about it. Can I get your contact code?" After getting the Trader's contact info, he thanked the man and went in search of the alien woman that had passed him. He passed a blue haired security guard that was watching two hoodlums in town. He didn't bother the man, though, as annoying a security guard while he was staking out criminals was a very bad idea. "Hi." he said, walking up to the alien woman, "nice Jeep. Looks like a per-apocalypse gas-burner that was refit with Lightning parts, possibly during the first ten years after it." For the first decade or so after the apocalypse, the single functional Jeep factory mostly worked on adapting the Lightning tech to newer and older tech, so that it could be used to refit old vessels with parts that would remain reverse compatible for centuries. He needed help and a vehicle if he was going to get to the salvage he had found, though. Even he wouldn't be able to cross such a hot zone on foot in time. "You look like a skilled salvager. I guess it's kind of unusual since you don't know me, but care to team up? I know where there's a fairly fresh Zathuran security patrol ship in a rad zone. With your vehicle and a few rad-resistance chems we could get inside the ship before getting badly irradiated. Once inside, we'll be able to pull more salvage than you've likely ever seen." True, it might be a bit stupid to tell a complete stranger about such a valuable find, but she didn't know where it was, and he really needed help and a vehicle if he was going to be able to salvage it. Maybe some extra muscle, too. Old, fresh, finds like that tended to have relatively intact automated security systems.</s> <\|message\|>Neptune The sound of a running motor was hard to miss. Rolling down the road was a very rough looking vehicle. It almost looked homemade, and Neptune wouldn't have been surprised if it was considering the driver. An off-worlder whose blue skin color matched the shade of blue that was his natural hair color. He made note f this as he turned to see Stan and his partner had disappeared. He made note of the door that had just closed to the shop across the street, and walked over to see what was going on. Taking a peek into the bar to make sure they hadn't gone in there, he cracked open the door and poke his head in. No one had really noticed the door opening a little, and he was free to look without attention being drawn to him. A lot of drunkards in here, and even more people on there way to being drunk, he sighed. How could anyone drink their life away without ever having a desire to make a difference in the world? The answer eluded him and he shook his head after assuring his guys weren't in there. He closed the door and looked back at the shop across the street. Lo and behold, he could see through the window that two figures stood in front of the silhouette of a panicked clerk. Neptune's hunch was right, and before he could start running to the shop, the clerk dropped. It didn't take long after that for Neptune to bust through the doors of the shop. Stan and the stranger turned to see him without a weapon drawn, and made it a point to flash each of their shiny, sharp knives. Neptune calmly stood there without moving towards his weapons. "Put the weapons down and I'll go easy on you," he said, managing to only get a laugh out of the two men. Stan turned his knife upside down and held it by the blade, brought it back, and threw it at Neptune, who ducked out of the way of the blade hurtling towards his head. The two men charged at him, but now only one had a weapon. As the stranger brought his knife back to jab, Neptune stepped to the side, grabbed the strangers head, and slammed it against the wall, knocking him out cold in a single blow. Stan had enough time to land a blow on Neptune's jaw, but it didn't do too much, and Neptune quickly retaliated by grabbing Stan's arm as he went for the next punch, twisting it around behind his back, and pressing him firmly against the door. Helpless, he tried to shake free, but Neptune was stronger than he was and held him against the wall as he grabbed his other hand and held it behind his back. Using a zip tie- yeah, the town didn't have but one pair of handcuffs, and that set was in the possession of some other guard- he tied Stan's hands behind his back. He forced him to lay face first on the floor so he couldn't get up and run very quickly. Checking to see if the clerk was okay, Neptune walked around behind the counter. Luckily, he had only been punched as his only wound was a broken nose. He breathed a sigh of relief as he then thought about what to do with the two idiotic criminals.</s>	<\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan After trading some scrap for a few fuses T'Lora opened the bonnet of her jeep and installed the new hardware. It wasn't a big job but it was necessary. Just as she finished she was approached by a human. "Hi." he said, walking up to the alien woman, "nice Jeep. Looks like a pre-apocalypse gas-burner that was refit with Lightning parts, possibly during the first ten years after it." "You've got a good eye, Human." "You look like a skilled salvager. I guess it's kind of unusual since you don't know me, but care to team up? I know where there's a fairly fresh Zathuran security patrol ship in a rad zone. With your vehicle and a few rad-resistance chems we could get inside the ship before getting badly irradiated. Once inside, we'll be able to pull more salvage than you've likely ever seen." "Straight to business. I like that." Most humans approached her for something other than work. Humans seemed to have a ridiculously active libido and always seemed like they were looking for potential mates. T'Lora sometimes used that to her advantage, she learned fairly early during her stay on Earth that if you made yourself more sexually appealing to humans they were more likely to be generous during trade offers although this time it didn't seem necessary. "More than I've ever seen, that's cute. I've been pulling wrecks since before you were born." Although that was true she said it jokingly. No need to sincerely insult the human, after all a security patrol ship was actually a decent find. "Getting past their security will be a pain though, it always is. Sounds good to me but we'll need a bit of muscle too. Assuming it's in good condition we'll need someone to carry the heavier equipment since Zathurans use fairly dense materials on their military ships."</s>
<\|description\|>T'Lora Qasan Age: 84 Personality: Observant and thoughtful. She values her wits over strength and her years on Earth have taught her to be resourceful and think on her feet. Generally avoids confrontation unless there is no alternative. Skills: Speaks Azurian, Zathuran, and English Piloting Driving Expert Azurian Tech Knowledge Moderate Zathuran & Human Tech Knowledge Superb Reflexes Non-standard Abilities: Temperatures under freezing are deadly Can hear supersonic and subsonic noise Equipment: Jul'Taya- an Azurain self-defense weapon barely bigger than your hand, it's compact size makes it a favorite among Azurian pilots. It fires a concentrated electromagnetic pulse strong enough to disrupt technological systems or knock out attackers, hitting someone repeatedly can be deadly. Engineering toolkit- although her expertise is in piloting she's picked up enough over the years to know how to fix just about anything. Bio: T'Lora was born on Azura in the southern hemisphere. Once she reached maturity at the age of 25 she started learning how to pilot aircraft and later moved up to spacecraft. About fifty years ago T'Lora volunteered to join a relief effort on a distant planet known as Earth. The planet itself had been scarred by catastrophe but she found that Humans were adaptable beings and made the best of their crippled world. T'Lora did her part shuttling supplies down to fledgling settlements. Just as there are good and bad Azurains there are good and bad Humans however, this was a lesson she learned quickly when her shuttle was commandeered by marauding Humans and Zathurans eager to get off the planet. T'Lora was left behind as she watched her shuttle being blown out of the sky for attacking the mother ship. Unfortunately she was also presumed dead and her low birth meant that no one in particular would miss her. T'Lora was forced to make Earth her new home. Even a scarred and mutated planet has it's own charm, although the winter months could be especially brutal in some places. Despite the circumstances that brought her here she doesn't really dislike Earth or Humans at all and finds herself wandering from town to town simply for the sake of traveling. Given the chance she would fly back to the endless sea of stars to explore even more new places. Species: Azurian (Az'Riann) Homeworld: Azura (Az'Ra) Specialization: Advanced Medical Science, Biology, Appearance: Description: Although Azurians are technically asexual they are typically referred to as an 'all female' species due to their physical and anatomical similarities to Human women. Their average life-span is roughly 500 years. Originating from a volcanically active planet with small island continents, Azurians prefer warm and humid climates. It's not uncommon to see them bundled up in layers during forty degree weather. Azurains aren't too common on Earth but there are a decent number of them in the larger population centers.</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) "More than I've ever seen, that's cute. I've been pulling wrecks since before you were born." "Well, more in one place, maybe, not total. If it's as fresh as I hope, neither of us will have to worry about money for a while." "Getting past their security will be a pain though, it always is. Sounds good to me but we'll need a bit of muscle too. Assuming it's in good condition we'll need someone to carry the heavier equipment since Zathurans use fairly dense materials on their military ships." "True. And I doubt any of the exoskeletons are left in the cargo hold." Exoskeletons were valuable and in high demand due to the fact that they could roughly triple the amount you could lift. For that matter, they could triple the strength of your punch too. "As for some extra muscle, I'd look for an out of work security guard or caravan guard, maybe an anti-raider. There aren't many bounty hunters or mercs I'd trust on a job like this." Anti-raiders did to raiders and slavers what raiders and slavers did to normal people, and unlike bounty hunters, they didn't wait until enough people had been attacked or killed that the local law enforcment put a bounty out. Many raider camps had been slaughtered and looted by anti-raider parties. Because the anti-raiders didn't hurt non-outlaws, towns didn't mind having them around. "So, which one of us should go find one? We'll also need a trailer to haul stuff in. One of us will need to rent or buy one. And the Jeep will need a recharge, as the wreck is north of Houston and I don't want to risk running out of power out of power in a rad zone."</s> <\|message\|>Neptune Neptune stepped outside, knowing full well that the two individuals inside couldn't get out any way except through him. He waved a few guards and a wagon over to take away the captives. The wagon was for the wounded one. "Let's have these two put away for a bit. Alcohol may or may not have influenced their actions, and I want to find out." Neptune was fully aware of what happened to people who committed capital crimes, and if alcohol wasn't involved, they would definitely be let go with a simple ban from the bar. If not, well... The town couldn't afford to hold any prisoners for long, since there were only two rudimentarily put together cells. He just hoped that they were under the influence. Odd to think about at first, but at least they'd get a second chance. He began walking down the road again, whistling Yankee Doodle and hoping the rest of the day was calm.</s> <\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan "Qasan T'Lora..." She touched her right hand to her forehead and bowed slightly as is customary for her people. "...that all sounds like a good plan but I'm beat. I could use a rest and a good drink." She stretched her arms out and leaned back against her old jeep. Surely he wouldn't mind if they waited until the early morning. It was already getting late and a few hours rest would do her (and probably him too since he walked) a world of good. "Besides, if you want muscle in any town you start with the bar!" She smiled to herself, even if it was true she was still using it as an excuse to get drunk. It had been too long since T'Lora tasted a drop of anything other than recycled water and it was time to fix that. She started to climb back in the jeep. "Do you want to come along or should I just meet you somewhere?"</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) "Sure." said Has'la. "Has'la Robinson." He held out his hand. "I've never really needed extra muscle for a job, but you seem to know better than me what to look for. I'll put a listing on the 'net, see if any ex security or caravan guards are looking, but I'll have them meet us in the bar at sundown. I'll meet you there as soon as I unload some junk and buy or rent a trailer for us. Shouldn't take long." After the conversation was over he walked into the general store she had just left and traded in the junk he had salvaged on the way for a few Valn. He then walked around the town until he found a trailer that met his needs. "Are you looking to sell?" he asked the old man who was unloading scrap steel from it. "Depends on how much you're offering." said the old man. "I still need the jeep, but I can borrow a trailer if I need one." After settling on a price, he arranged to pick it up tonight and went to the bar. There he found T'lora and sat down, ordering something to eat. "So, find anyone interesting yet?"</s> <\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut The light was dimming and the Radcycle grumbled between Harry's legs as he crested the last hill and looked down over the town in the distance. It didn't look like much this far out, a cluster of prefab dwellings with a couple of more permanent structures at the heart of the town, most likely the bank and the jail if he guessed right. Not that he cared that much, there wouldn't be many in a town this far out from the central cities that'd be interested in the wares he had to offer. Turning the handlebars Harry kicked the bike up into high gear, heading for the cluster of turbines scattered further along the rise. It always paid off to make an entrance in small settlements like this, especially when your guns were clearly holstered at your side. Not that Harry intended to threaten them in any way, but the sight of the longarm often helped get a good price for some of his scrap, if only to ensure he left quickly without having to draw the weapon. Pulling up beside the sales booth Harry kicked the cycle into parking before hauling himself up out of the saddle. He'd been driving for the better part of three days and his legs were still tingling from the constant vibrations the bike's electric engine gave off as it ran. Taking a moment to rub some lift back into his tired muscles Harry reached down and tightened the exo-brace which helped keep his leg together, or at least that's the impression it gave. In truth his legs were just as good, if not better, than most human's his age. He'd been told that was part of the genetic inheritance he'd gained from his father's side of the family, not that he'd ever bothered to ask exactly what that meant. Moving to the back of his vehicle Harry quickly yanked a large satchel up onto his shoulder before reaching down with both hands and hauling an old engine block up from the storage compartment. With an over-acted shuffle he quickly made his way over to the counter, waiting a moment as the attendant cleared some space for him before setting the heavy piece of machinery down. "There you go Simon," Harry said smugly, "One Lightning engine, as promised." "You're a wonder Harry," The attendant replied warmly, rising up from his seat to examine his new prize with obvious excitement. His eyes lit up a moment later as he stroked his hands down the side of the micro-element manifold. "Damn... flawless manifold, almost all shock plugs still intact... where'd you find this?" Harry shook his head with a smile, "You know better than to ask things like that Simon. All I can say is that there's no previous owner likely to come looking for it." With that Harry pulled a battered old tablet from his satchel and with a swipe of his finger brought up his financial management program. "Now, as for business..?" "No problem," Simon said, his iPhone already in hand as he tapped in the credit transfer. A moment later Harry nodded happily as the payment registered on his pad. "Got something else for you too, prime grade power cells." Pulling the satchel mouth wider Harry let Simon take a peak at the high-capacity cells piled inside, each gleaming as if they'd only just come off of the assembly line. In truth they were all refurbished and drained, but with as little charging they'd work just as good as they looked. Simon shook his head sadly. "I'd love to take them from you Harry, but business ain't too good right now and this has wiped out my readies. Best I can do is point you to a fella in town, he was in a earlier today looking for high-cap cells and had the look of someone who'd be looking to settle for the night. If you're lucky he might still be looking to trade." "Yeah?" Harry said, tucking his tablet back in the pouch as he glanced down the road towards the town. "He look good for the money?" "He was wearing a fancy wrist-comp and said he was gonna be buying an ion charge cell, so he'll have some scratch to play with. Best hurry though, might not want to buy if you leave it too long." Harry smiled, a customer with ready cash, always a good thing for a scavenger. "Thanks for the tip. See ya soon." With that Harry turned back to the Radcycle, stowing the power cells in back before kicking the engine into life. Moment later he was speeding down the roadway into the town, heading for the town centre. As he pulled up he spotted the sparse crowd clustered around the old truck belonging to a trader he'd dealt with a few times in the past, not always with a mutually agreeable outcome. Turning away from the market Harry made his way towards the bar with his satchel hanging down at his side. Stepping through the door he could see the usually evening crowd clustered at their usual tables. In one corner a card game of some sort had started up and already several knick-knacks and gadgets were resting piled in the middle of the table. A quick glance told him the gadgets were all low-quality junk, including a couple of pieces he recognised as his own finds from a few weeks earlier. Turning away he was about to head back out the door when he spotted a rough looking man sitting with a Blueberry off to one side. He didn't recognise either of them, but the man's wrist-comp was distinctive. 'What the hell,' He thought to himself, 'It's worth a shot at least.' Lifting his arm in the air with a friendly wave, which also gave everyone a good view of the custom stunner hanging from his belt, just in case, Harry called out to the man as he stepped up towards the table. "Hey there! You the guy looking for high-cap power cells?"</s> <\|message\|>Neptune Neptune sighed. As the night drew closer, he found himself getting hungry. There weren't many places he could eat while he was in duty, but the bar offered a deal where guards could eat for free as long as they stepped in and helped in any confrontation that occurred while they were there. He decided he'd save a penny and eat there, knowing full well what the conditions were. He stepped into the bar, immediately recognizing the people within. Mostly potential troublemakers, but a few were not. Namely the two who were to soon begin a conversation. "High-cap power cells?..." Neptune muttered under his breath. A bit if a high goal to strive for, if he knew anything about power, which he did. He watched the man who spoke up out of the corner of his eye, in case an underhanded trade was in the works here in the bar. It wouldn't be surprising, considering that the bar is where the root of most of Neptune's problems arose. "What c'n I do ya fer" the bartender said, snapping Neptune out of his trance. An older fellow who was missing most of his teeth. Neptune didn't blame the guy for his manner of speech, considering this. "What do you have in stock as far as meals go, Sherm?" "Jus' gotta box fulla country fried steaks. Still good, ta. Surprising, ain't it?" "Never had one before. If you're right about them still being good, I'll take that then. With some potatoes." "Comin' up!" "Thank you." Neptune looked around again, waiting to see if anything was going to happen. He couldn't help but feel as if he needed to get to know some people, but he moved from settlement to settlement so much that he just didn't bother anymore.</s>	<\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan T'Lora didn't waste any time getting drunk and by the time Has'la had caught up to her at the bar she was already halfway through her first bottle of tequila. Finding a mule for their upcoming salvage wouldn't be too hard. Looking across the room she could see plenty of strong young humans. "Take yur pick. Any o' these mules'll do." She was more concerned with her bottle at this point and paid no mind to the man trying to make a sale. If there was one thing T'Lora was good at, it was drinking.</s>
<\|description\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut Age: 27 (?) Appearance: Personality: A rugged and gruff man, Harry much prefers to spend time tinkering with his latest find or tuning up his cycle than chatting with others. Dedicated and fiercely loyal Harry's always one of the first to step in and break up a fight, especially when he thinks someone's unfairly outnumbered or outclassed. Skills: Mechanical engineering and maintenance, expert off-road motorcycle rider, skilled tracker and outdoorsman, experienced sniper and pistol marksman Non-standard Abilities: Bionic Implants: Cybernetic Eye: Harry has never revealed exactly what his eye lets him see and the best anyone's ever gotten him to admit is that it's considerably better than his old organic one. Observers have noted that he seems to be able to see through walls and have deduced that the eye has some level of backscatter x-ray detection along with enhanced night vision and thermal detection. Equipment: Rail Rifle: A heavily modified longarm sniper rifle whose barrel has been modified with electromagnetic charge coils which launch small metallic objects, commonly nails, at its target with high accuracy at extreme ranges. Sue to the long charge time for each shot (approximately 1.7 seconds) the Rail Rifle is best used as a sniper rifle, where plenty of time can be taken to line up the perfect shot. Little Nelly: A custom built blaster pistol which fires concentrated bursts of densely packed negatively charged ions which can overload most electrical systems, including most biological nervous systems, with a single blaster. Charge time on the pistol (0.8 seconds) makes it best for single shot use, but it can be switched to autofire mode with considerable loss of power with each shot. Radcycle: Custom built all-terrain single seat vehicle with short-range VTOL hover unit. The Radcycle was built from spare parts, salvage and 'acquired' technology by Harry over the course of many years and he's usually found making adjustments and refinements to its design whenever he has a free moment. While the cycle mainly uses its dual wheels for propulsion it is also fitted with an anti-grav coil which is usually used to lower the vehicle's mass, increasing its cruising speed and allowing for easier handling over rough terrain. In a pinch the coil can be overcharged to allow the bike to perform impressive jumps and even fly for short distances, although Harry would be the first to admit the reliability of the flight systems makes driving a much safer option in most circumstances. 'Wrench': Harry almost always wears a power generator backpack with a multitool attachment on an extending arm. He mostly uses this when repairing and maintaining his equipment and occasionally seems to argue with the device as though it were a living thing, but this may just be an anthropomorphisation of his tools. The backpack also contains a long-range scanner capable of detecting most known unshielded power sources upto a kilometer away, along with valuable metals and other technological items. 'Tablet': Seeing the need for data exchange, information management and gaming apps Harry built himself a simple but effective portable computer. Fitted with numerous data interfaces the Tablet can access most known network protocols and data feeds, along with acting as a messaging and extranet terminal. When not in use Harry normally carries the Tablet in a custom made carrying pouch slung over his shoulder, or just in whatever bag or satchel he happens to be carrying at the time. Bio: As Harry rarely speaks of his past in any great detail no-one's exactly sure where he's originally from. Although he appears to be human at times he's mentioned a mixed race heritage, although whether this was merely in jest has yet to be confirmed. What is known is that at a young age Harry found himself alone in the world, force to scavenge for food and supplies. Early on he discovered a knack with mechanical devices which would serve him well over the years. Constantly on the move, Harry has adapted well to a nomadic lifestyle, learning how to live off the land and hunt for food, as well as how to survive the sometimes harsh wasteland conditions he travels through. At some point one of his inventions would've literally blown up in his face, requiring him to have his left eye replaced with a cybernetic implant. Exactly where and when this had been done is something he doesn't like to talk about much, but then again he doesn't like to talk about anything very much, apart from technology. Quote: "I ran out of red wires so I just used green for everything. That won't be a problem, right?"</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) "More than I've ever seen, that's cute. I've been pulling wrecks since before you were born." "Well, more in one place, maybe, not total. If it's as fresh as I hope, neither of us will have to worry about money for a while." "Getting past their security will be a pain though, it always is. Sounds good to me but we'll need a bit of muscle too. Assuming it's in good condition we'll need someone to carry the heavier equipment since Zathurans use fairly dense materials on their military ships." "True. And I doubt any of the exoskeletons are left in the cargo hold." Exoskeletons were valuable and in high demand due to the fact that they could roughly triple the amount you could lift. For that matter, they could triple the strength of your punch too. "As for some extra muscle, I'd look for an out of work security guard or caravan guard, maybe an anti-raider. There aren't many bounty hunters or mercs I'd trust on a job like this." Anti-raiders did to raiders and slavers what raiders and slavers did to normal people, and unlike bounty hunters, they didn't wait until enough people had been attacked or killed that the local law enforcment put a bounty out. Many raider camps had been slaughtered and looted by anti-raider parties. Because the anti-raiders didn't hurt non-outlaws, towns didn't mind having them around. "So, which one of us should go find one? We'll also need a trailer to haul stuff in. One of us will need to rent or buy one. And the Jeep will need a recharge, as the wreck is north of Houston and I don't want to risk running out of power out of power in a rad zone."</s> <\|message\|>Neptune Neptune stepped outside, knowing full well that the two individuals inside couldn't get out any way except through him. He waved a few guards and a wagon over to take away the captives. The wagon was for the wounded one. "Let's have these two put away for a bit. Alcohol may or may not have influenced their actions, and I want to find out." Neptune was fully aware of what happened to people who committed capital crimes, and if alcohol wasn't involved, they would definitely be let go with a simple ban from the bar. If not, well... The town couldn't afford to hold any prisoners for long, since there were only two rudimentarily put together cells. He just hoped that they were under the influence. Odd to think about at first, but at least they'd get a second chance. He began walking down the road again, whistling Yankee Doodle and hoping the rest of the day was calm.</s> <\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan "Qasan T'Lora..." She touched her right hand to her forehead and bowed slightly as is customary for her people. "...that all sounds like a good plan but I'm beat. I could use a rest and a good drink." She stretched her arms out and leaned back against her old jeep. Surely he wouldn't mind if they waited until the early morning. It was already getting late and a few hours rest would do her (and probably him too since he walked) a world of good. "Besides, if you want muscle in any town you start with the bar!" She smiled to herself, even if it was true she was still using it as an excuse to get drunk. It had been too long since T'Lora tasted a drop of anything other than recycled water and it was time to fix that. She started to climb back in the jeep. "Do you want to come along or should I just meet you somewhere?"</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) "Sure." said Has'la. "Has'la Robinson." He held out his hand. "I've never really needed extra muscle for a job, but you seem to know better than me what to look for. I'll put a listing on the 'net, see if any ex security or caravan guards are looking, but I'll have them meet us in the bar at sundown. I'll meet you there as soon as I unload some junk and buy or rent a trailer for us. Shouldn't take long." After the conversation was over he walked into the general store she had just left and traded in the junk he had salvaged on the way for a few Valn. He then walked around the town until he found a trailer that met his needs. "Are you looking to sell?" he asked the old man who was unloading scrap steel from it. "Depends on how much you're offering." said the old man. "I still need the jeep, but I can borrow a trailer if I need one." After settling on a price, he arranged to pick it up tonight and went to the bar. There he found T'lora and sat down, ordering something to eat. "So, find anyone interesting yet?"</s>	<\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut The light was dimming and the Radcycle grumbled between Harry's legs as he crested the last hill and looked down over the town in the distance. It didn't look like much this far out, a cluster of prefab dwellings with a couple of more permanent structures at the heart of the town, most likely the bank and the jail if he guessed right. Not that he cared that much, there wouldn't be many in a town this far out from the central cities that'd be interested in the wares he had to offer. Turning the handlebars Harry kicked the bike up into high gear, heading for the cluster of turbines scattered further along the rise. It always paid off to make an entrance in small settlements like this, especially when your guns were clearly holstered at your side. Not that Harry intended to threaten them in any way, but the sight of the longarm often helped get a good price for some of his scrap, if only to ensure he left quickly without having to draw the weapon. Pulling up beside the sales booth Harry kicked the cycle into parking before hauling himself up out of the saddle. He'd been driving for the better part of three days and his legs were still tingling from the constant vibrations the bike's electric engine gave off as it ran. Taking a moment to rub some lift back into his tired muscles Harry reached down and tightened the exo-brace which helped keep his leg together, or at least that's the impression it gave. In truth his legs were just as good, if not better, than most human's his age. He'd been told that was part of the genetic inheritance he'd gained from his father's side of the family, not that he'd ever bothered to ask exactly what that meant. Moving to the back of his vehicle Harry quickly yanked a large satchel up onto his shoulder before reaching down with both hands and hauling an old engine block up from the storage compartment. With an over-acted shuffle he quickly made his way over to the counter, waiting a moment as the attendant cleared some space for him before setting the heavy piece of machinery down. "There you go Simon," Harry said smugly, "One Lightning engine, as promised." "You're a wonder Harry," The attendant replied warmly, rising up from his seat to examine his new prize with obvious excitement. His eyes lit up a moment later as he stroked his hands down the side of the micro-element manifold. "Damn... flawless manifold, almost all shock plugs still intact... where'd you find this?" Harry shook his head with a smile, "You know better than to ask things like that Simon. All I can say is that there's no previous owner likely to come looking for it." With that Harry pulled a battered old tablet from his satchel and with a swipe of his finger brought up his financial management program. "Now, as for business..?" "No problem," Simon said, his iPhone already in hand as he tapped in the credit transfer. A moment later Harry nodded happily as the payment registered on his pad. "Got something else for you too, prime grade power cells." Pulling the satchel mouth wider Harry let Simon take a peak at the high-capacity cells piled inside, each gleaming as if they'd only just come off of the assembly line. In truth they were all refurbished and drained, but with as little charging they'd work just as good as they looked. Simon shook his head sadly. "I'd love to take them from you Harry, but business ain't too good right now and this has wiped out my readies. Best I can do is point you to a fella in town, he was in a earlier today looking for high-cap cells and had the look of someone who'd be looking to settle for the night. If you're lucky he might still be looking to trade." "Yeah?" Harry said, tucking his tablet back in the pouch as he glanced down the road towards the town. "He look good for the money?" "He was wearing a fancy wrist-comp and said he was gonna be buying an ion charge cell, so he'll have some scratch to play with. Best hurry though, might not want to buy if you leave it too long." Harry smiled, a customer with ready cash, always a good thing for a scavenger. "Thanks for the tip. See ya soon." With that Harry turned back to the Radcycle, stowing the power cells in back before kicking the engine into life. Moment later he was speeding down the roadway into the town, heading for the town centre. As he pulled up he spotted the sparse crowd clustered around the old truck belonging to a trader he'd dealt with a few times in the past, not always with a mutually agreeable outcome. Turning away from the market Harry made his way towards the bar with his satchel hanging down at his side. Stepping through the door he could see the usually evening crowd clustered at their usual tables. In one corner a card game of some sort had started up and already several knick-knacks and gadgets were resting piled in the middle of the table. A quick glance told him the gadgets were all low-quality junk, including a couple of pieces he recognised as his own finds from a few weeks earlier. Turning away he was about to head back out the door when he spotted a rough looking man sitting with a Blueberry off to one side. He didn't recognise either of them, but the man's wrist-comp was distinctive. 'What the hell,' He thought to himself, 'It's worth a shot at least.' Lifting his arm in the air with a friendly wave, which also gave everyone a good view of the custom stunner hanging from his belt, just in case, Harry called out to the man as he stepped up towards the table. "Hey there! You the guy looking for high-cap power cells?"</s>
<\|description\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut Age: 27 (?) Appearance: Personality: A rugged and gruff man, Harry much prefers to spend time tinkering with his latest find or tuning up his cycle than chatting with others. Dedicated and fiercely loyal Harry's always one of the first to step in and break up a fight, especially when he thinks someone's unfairly outnumbered or outclassed. Skills: Mechanical engineering and maintenance, expert off-road motorcycle rider, skilled tracker and outdoorsman, experienced sniper and pistol marksman Non-standard Abilities: Bionic Implants: Cybernetic Eye: Harry has never revealed exactly what his eye lets him see and the best anyone's ever gotten him to admit is that it's considerably better than his old organic one. Observers have noted that he seems to be able to see through walls and have deduced that the eye has some level of backscatter x-ray detection along with enhanced night vision and thermal detection. Equipment: Rail Rifle: A heavily modified longarm sniper rifle whose barrel has been modified with electromagnetic charge coils which launch small metallic objects, commonly nails, at its target with high accuracy at extreme ranges. Sue to the long charge time for each shot (approximately 1.7 seconds) the Rail Rifle is best used as a sniper rifle, where plenty of time can be taken to line up the perfect shot. Little Nelly: A custom built blaster pistol which fires concentrated bursts of densely packed negatively charged ions which can overload most electrical systems, including most biological nervous systems, with a single blaster. Charge time on the pistol (0.8 seconds) makes it best for single shot use, but it can be switched to autofire mode with considerable loss of power with each shot. Radcycle: Custom built all-terrain single seat vehicle with short-range VTOL hover unit. The Radcycle was built from spare parts, salvage and 'acquired' technology by Harry over the course of many years and he's usually found making adjustments and refinements to its design whenever he has a free moment. While the cycle mainly uses its dual wheels for propulsion it is also fitted with an anti-grav coil which is usually used to lower the vehicle's mass, increasing its cruising speed and allowing for easier handling over rough terrain. In a pinch the coil can be overcharged to allow the bike to perform impressive jumps and even fly for short distances, although Harry would be the first to admit the reliability of the flight systems makes driving a much safer option in most circumstances. 'Wrench': Harry almost always wears a power generator backpack with a multitool attachment on an extending arm. He mostly uses this when repairing and maintaining his equipment and occasionally seems to argue with the device as though it were a living thing, but this may just be an anthropomorphisation of his tools. The backpack also contains a long-range scanner capable of detecting most known unshielded power sources upto a kilometer away, along with valuable metals and other technological items. 'Tablet': Seeing the need for data exchange, information management and gaming apps Harry built himself a simple but effective portable computer. Fitted with numerous data interfaces the Tablet can access most known network protocols and data feeds, along with acting as a messaging and extranet terminal. When not in use Harry normally carries the Tablet in a custom made carrying pouch slung over his shoulder, or just in whatever bag or satchel he happens to be carrying at the time. Bio: As Harry rarely speaks of his past in any great detail no-one's exactly sure where he's originally from. Although he appears to be human at times he's mentioned a mixed race heritage, although whether this was merely in jest has yet to be confirmed. What is known is that at a young age Harry found himself alone in the world, force to scavenge for food and supplies. Early on he discovered a knack with mechanical devices which would serve him well over the years. Constantly on the move, Harry has adapted well to a nomadic lifestyle, learning how to live off the land and hunt for food, as well as how to survive the sometimes harsh wasteland conditions he travels through. At some point one of his inventions would've literally blown up in his face, requiring him to have his left eye replaced with a cybernetic implant. Exactly where and when this had been done is something he doesn't like to talk about much, but then again he doesn't like to talk about anything very much, apart from technology. Quote: "I ran out of red wires so I just used green for everything. That won't be a problem, right?"</s> <\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan T'Lora didn't waste any time getting drunk and by the time Has'la had caught up to her at the bar she was already halfway through her first bottle of tequila. Finding a mule for their upcoming salvage wouldn't be too hard. Looking across the room she could see plenty of strong young humans. "Take yur pick. Any o' these mules'll do." She was more concerned with her bottle at this point and paid no mind to the man trying to make a sale. If there was one thing T'Lora was good at, it was drinking.</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) As soon as Has'la sat down he could tell T'Lora was drunk. It didn't matter, though. She might have a bit of a hangover in the morning, but for the night there wasn't any reason not to drink once they were ready. "Take yur pick. Any o' these mules'll do." "For hauling the stuff, sure, but none of them look like the type to brave an automated security system, especially when they find out how small of a percentage they'll get for their troubles. Hopefully someone better will show up so that we don't have to hire one of them." The waitress, the Bartender's granddaughter he assumed, brought his food over. He had decided to have a decent meal for a change and had ordered the vegetable "beef" stew, some boiled peanuts (for extra protein, as he hadn't had much recently) and a bottle of soda. He ordered a bottle of Jack when she brought his food, then started to eat. Surprisingly, while the meat was likely dog or some wild mammal in the area, it contained real beef stock. Animal products, at least the farmed kind, were expensive and hard to come by. They had likely bought theirs from the farms near Dallas and had it shipped in. Pretty expensive, but then it was for their higher-end food, so the customers were willing to pay. Just as the waitress was leaving a man with a cybernetic eye walked up. "Hey there! You the guy looking for high-cap power cells?" "Depends on how much you're charging." he said. If they were new, they could go for as much as thirty Valn each. Good rebuilds would still go for fifteen or twenty Valn each. He looked at one and was surprised. Most of the "high grades" you came across were actually mid-grades, low-grades that were refilled with high-grade fluid. These were actual rebuilt high-grades, though. Which was a bit suspicious. The only reliable sources of high-grades were factories, none of which rebuilt them, and Raiders, who kept large numbers around for their weapons. "Nice cells," he said, "but I'm curious where they came from." The man didn't look like an anti-raider, and raiders had been known to send their more recent members into towns to resell stuff they'd taken from their raids. If a group was getting desperate, they might even try to sell surplus power cells. The cells might also be stolen from a shop in the area, most likely Houston. That would be almost as bad, though if he found out who they were stolen from he might arrange to return them for some sort of reward, maybe even a free cell or two.</s> <\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut "All refurbished," Harry answered honestly, "Picked 'em up out in the wastes, stripped 'em down and rebuilt them myself. Can't honestly say they'll run as good as new, but I'll stake my name on them being better quality than most you'll find in these parts." As he spoke Harry pulled his satchel around to show the stranger the pile he had inside, which just so happened to also nudge the stunner on his hip forward subtly, just in case the guy got any bright ideas. "Got twelve of 'em right now and could let them go at 200 for the set, or trade if you'd prefer." Harry let his eyes drift over to the man's companion, taking in the details as casually as he could so as not to offend her. She was a fine looking beast, the kind he might've tried for a tumble with had it not been for the obvious smell of liquor wafting from her direction. He'd learnt the hard way that a woman who took solace in the bottom of a bottle may be good for a night, but would be far less friendly once the booze's glow dimmed and the pounding headaches started. They also tended to be a little forgetful about little details in the heat of the moment, such as angry husbands, or in one memorable case an angry wife.</s> <\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan T'Lora listened carefully to the man's deal. He seemed fairly confident that her new friend would pay up 200 for his wares. She almost choked on her tequila when she let out a laugh mid-drink. "Those ain't wurt two hundo. You 'furbished 'em yurself so yur not coverin' cost of havin' some tech junkie fix 'em up fur you." She looked at Has'la. "Give 'im one fitty, that's fair." Satisfied with her response she returned to her glass half full of the fermented juice of desert agave fruit. Liquor was something she discovered on Earth since the castless weren't allowed to have liquor of any kind, instead given the simplest of ales made with very low quality fruits. T'Lora honestly couldn't care less about the power cells but she recognized the look he gave her when he walked up to them. Either he knew that she was casteless or he was one of those humans that dislikes foreigners on 'his' planet. Either way she knew that they wouldn't get along from the start. He was clearly good at his craft though, the power cells looked like they were thoroughly taken care of, or she was too drunk already to tell a good cell from a bad one.</s> <\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut With a sigh Harry loaded the power cells back into his pack and began to fasten it up. "Sorry, the price is two hundred, take it or leave it." He said shaking his head sadly, "This is high-grade equipment and if it's too expensive for you then I guess I'll have to take 'em elsewhere." He wasn't sure why he was even bothering to talk to the Blueberry, she was obviously too drunk to even understand him properly and for a moment he wondered why the trader would even bother to hang around with her. Then his gaze slipped down several inches and he realised exactly why. Looking back up at T'Lora's face with a knowing grin he turned to go, "Well, I guess I'll leave you two to your romantic evening. Hope you both enjoy yourselves."</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) He knew the guy's "I'm going to leave now" thing was just a show to get him to not ask further questions or haggle any more, but he didn't care. He could use those cells. "I don't have two hundred." said Has'la, telling the truth. After buying that trailer he had a grand total of 187.63 Valn left, and they still had to fill the jeep up before leaving. "But I'm leaving tomorrow to pull some salvage. When I get back I'll have plenty. Or, you could come with us. I'll need some extra muscle to protect us when we haul it back and in case there's any automated defenses left intact when we get there. I could also use the help moving the heavier stuff. You can come with us, help us out in that regard, and I'll pay you one hundred for your troubles. I'll even buy the cells off of you when we get back and I sale my salvage. What do you think?" He hoped the man would take the offer, as he didn't have much else to add to it.</s> <\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut Already half turned away from the table Harry paused. "Automated defenses?" He asked, intrigued. There were only a few places he knew of where those things were still operating after all these years and all of them were well worth the trip, if you could crack them. Lowering his pack to the floor Harry leant over the table as he looked into the stranger's eyes. He'd heard some people say you could tell whether someone was lying to you or not by looking into their eyes when they spoke, but he'd found looming over them with a glaring cybernetic eye loosened more tongues that blind faith. With his eyepiece whirring and clicking he quickly scanned the man, his readout picking out the wristcomp, shield generator and interesting bauble hanging round his neck. "I'll tell you what," He began, trying to sound offhand and disinterested, "I'll join your party and I'll even let you have the power cells for now. In exchange I want first claim on any off the automated defenses that we encounter, and you'll hand me that necklace of yours for insurance. If it turns out we don't find anything worthwhile then I keep the necklace and you pay me my 200, if we hit paydirt then you get the bauble back and we call it quits. "Of course, if you happen to not survive the trip, then I'll keep the keepsake, obviously." He finished with a friendly grin.</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) "The necklace has too much value, sentimental and monetary, for me to even consider using it as collateral on something like this. I'll put up the hundred Valn and my shield generator, provided you let me wear it until we verify that there aren't any automated defenses before turning it over to you. If you get at least their value worth of salvage from the automated defenses, then you give them back. If not, you're up one hundred Valn and a working shield generator for, at most, two days worth of work. I doubt you'll get a better deal than that for protecting anyone else." True, he didn't have much to put up for collateral, but for most guard types that would be more than enough to hire them.</s>	<\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut Harry rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment. His interest was really in the control boards he might be able to salvage from the automated defenses, and if there turned out not to be any then his trip would've been wasted. It reflected well on the stranger that he knew the value of the hyper-crystals hanging around his neck though, so the guy probably knew what he was talking about with the defenses. "How about a compromise?" Harry said, smiling at the stranger if a friendly manner, "You pay the hundred up front and if we don't find any decent salvage I get the shield generator, as you said, but you also agree in front of the lovely lady here that I get first call on the necklace should anything happen to you. And just so you know there's no foul play intended on my part I agree that you'll be the first to recover any of my gear should I not be needing it anymore."</s>
<\|description\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut Age: 27 (?) Appearance: Personality: A rugged and gruff man, Harry much prefers to spend time tinkering with his latest find or tuning up his cycle than chatting with others. Dedicated and fiercely loyal Harry's always one of the first to step in and break up a fight, especially when he thinks someone's unfairly outnumbered or outclassed. Skills: Mechanical engineering and maintenance, expert off-road motorcycle rider, skilled tracker and outdoorsman, experienced sniper and pistol marksman Non-standard Abilities: Bionic Implants: Cybernetic Eye: Harry has never revealed exactly what his eye lets him see and the best anyone's ever gotten him to admit is that it's considerably better than his old organic one. Observers have noted that he seems to be able to see through walls and have deduced that the eye has some level of backscatter x-ray detection along with enhanced night vision and thermal detection. Equipment: Rail Rifle: A heavily modified longarm sniper rifle whose barrel has been modified with electromagnetic charge coils which launch small metallic objects, commonly nails, at its target with high accuracy at extreme ranges. Sue to the long charge time for each shot (approximately 1.7 seconds) the Rail Rifle is best used as a sniper rifle, where plenty of time can be taken to line up the perfect shot. Little Nelly: A custom built blaster pistol which fires concentrated bursts of densely packed negatively charged ions which can overload most electrical systems, including most biological nervous systems, with a single blaster. Charge time on the pistol (0.8 seconds) makes it best for single shot use, but it can be switched to autofire mode with considerable loss of power with each shot. Radcycle: Custom built all-terrain single seat vehicle with short-range VTOL hover unit. The Radcycle was built from spare parts, salvage and 'acquired' technology by Harry over the course of many years and he's usually found making adjustments and refinements to its design whenever he has a free moment. While the cycle mainly uses its dual wheels for propulsion it is also fitted with an anti-grav coil which is usually used to lower the vehicle's mass, increasing its cruising speed and allowing for easier handling over rough terrain. In a pinch the coil can be overcharged to allow the bike to perform impressive jumps and even fly for short distances, although Harry would be the first to admit the reliability of the flight systems makes driving a much safer option in most circumstances. 'Wrench': Harry almost always wears a power generator backpack with a multitool attachment on an extending arm. He mostly uses this when repairing and maintaining his equipment and occasionally seems to argue with the device as though it were a living thing, but this may just be an anthropomorphisation of his tools. The backpack also contains a long-range scanner capable of detecting most known unshielded power sources upto a kilometer away, along with valuable metals and other technological items. 'Tablet': Seeing the need for data exchange, information management and gaming apps Harry built himself a simple but effective portable computer. Fitted with numerous data interfaces the Tablet can access most known network protocols and data feeds, along with acting as a messaging and extranet terminal. When not in use Harry normally carries the Tablet in a custom made carrying pouch slung over his shoulder, or just in whatever bag or satchel he happens to be carrying at the time. Bio: As Harry rarely speaks of his past in any great detail no-one's exactly sure where he's originally from. Although he appears to be human at times he's mentioned a mixed race heritage, although whether this was merely in jest has yet to be confirmed. What is known is that at a young age Harry found himself alone in the world, force to scavenge for food and supplies. Early on he discovered a knack with mechanical devices which would serve him well over the years. Constantly on the move, Harry has adapted well to a nomadic lifestyle, learning how to live off the land and hunt for food, as well as how to survive the sometimes harsh wasteland conditions he travels through. At some point one of his inventions would've literally blown up in his face, requiring him to have his left eye replaced with a cybernetic implant. Exactly where and when this had been done is something he doesn't like to talk about much, but then again he doesn't like to talk about anything very much, apart from technology. Quote: "I ran out of red wires so I just used green for everything. That won't be a problem, right?"</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) "If I die, everything I own is to be sold and the money sent to my parent. That said, if you'll agree to sell my stuff, excluding the necklace, but including my share of the salvage, and transfer the Valn to my implant where my parent can access it upon my death, you can have the crystal as payment for doing that." It was Zathuran custom to give all that you own, minus fees and such, to your next of kin upon death. While he knew that send his actual belonging thousands of kilometers to the east would be too expensive, transferring electronic currancy was free.</s> <\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan Sinc T'Lora knew that she would have to deal with another tag-along anyway she didn't bother to say anything else. She would let the humans negotiate between themselves. She would be getting as much salvage as she could haul in her jeep anyway so it really wasn't much of an issue and there would definitely be enough for all of them. Her bottle was empty, which meant she was done for the night. Aside from getting drunk she really didn't have any plan for finding some help for the salvage and since Has'la was doing a good enough job at it she figured she could just crash in her jeep outside for the night. "Has'la, you sir, have the helm. I'm off to my quarters for some R&R" T'Lora stood up straight and gave a human salute before sauntering out of the bar only to slump into the driver side of her jeep and reclining the seat, passing out almost immediately.</s> <\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut "... That said, if you'll agree to sell my stuff, excluding the necklace, but including my share of the salvage, and transfer the Valn to my implant where my parent can access it upon my death, you can have the crystal as payment for doing that." Harry watched as the Blueberry rose from her chair and rather unsteadily made her way towards the door. He had to admit she had her charms, and as he watched her hips swaying with each step he admired those charms for as long as she was in sight. With a smile Harry turned back to the stranger at the table and held out his hand, an ancient sign of an agreement having come to terms. "You got yourself a deal." Harry liked salvage claim deals when working as part of a group, it helped keep people together. Not because they trusted one another, since a lot of the time people got a little antsy when their beneficiaries were walking right behind them with a shotgun pointed at their back, but because they'd be unlikely to leave him behind if things turned south since they'd be leaving their own gear behind. Hoisting his satchel up onto the table Harry reached inside and retrieved his tablet before pushing the power cells across to his new business partner. "How about I buy us both a drink to celebrate this union, and you can explain to me a little more about what I just got myself into?" With a quick wave Harry signalled to Elsie, the barman's young wife and chief barmaid, that he was ready to order.</s> <\|message\|>Hanna Krauft of the Last Brigade The town's murmurings had started to go up a bit, passing through, following the source. A lone figure, fairly slim and somewhat short walked towards the bar of the town. The doors to the building opened to reveal a young woman. Her icy blue eyes scanned the bar as she walked in, pulling down the face wrap that covered her mouth from the dust. Walking towards the actual bar itself, the young girl began to slowly be noticed. Men began to look up from their drinks and cards, staring at this oddity as she strode up to the bartender. Her stare was unsettling, almost threatening, but the bartender stood his ground and starred right back at her as she took her seat. By the time she had reached the bar, the room's noise had reduced considerably, many watching the stranger, waiting to see what she was. One of the patrons thought to himself that this was like one of those western stories he read from an old book he scavenged, quietly laughing to himself about how cliche the whole thing was. The woman glanced around the room at the staring eyes, looked to the bartender with her cold stare and, with a strange accent, said, "Do you have any vater?" The bar broke into laughter and the men went back to their conversations and games. "Erm... no young lady, I don't. I got alcohol of all sorts, but, if you want your..."vater", you go get it at the market." "Fine, just pour me a shot." The young girl kept on hand on her odd, wood finished rifle and took the drink in the other. While most had returned to what they were doing, some still eyed the girl.</s> <\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut Over his shoulder Harry's wrench turned to scan the newcomer as she stepped into the bar. Immediately it gave off a warning beep, drawing the mechanic's attention. Turning Harry gave the girl the once-over and immediately spotted the heavy-duty rifle she was carrying. That would be quite a prize, to the right person, he thought to himself, although all I'd need would be a couple of hours in a decent workshop. Not that there were any decent workshops within a hundred miles of the rag-tag little town in which they sat. As she moved towards the bar Harry eyed the girl, spotting the shield unit she was carrying as his eye scanned her carefully, it's energy signature unmistakeable. With a sign he turned back to his new friend with a wry smile. Perhaps another time, he thought, I'll let some other guy try and crack that little nut. "You were saying something about this mission of yours?" Harry said to his 'partner', not wanting to let the issue lie until he'd been given something about their target or destination.</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) Has'la was sipping his glass of Jack with his new "friend", aka employee, when a woman walked in with a fancy rifle, wearing fancy armor. He looked her over, though it would take a keen eye to tell the difference between looking over her equipment and the kind of "looking her over" some of the other men in the bar were doing. They do realize she could kill them without breaking a sweat, right? he thought. "You were saying something about this mission of yours?"@SimplyJohn He was interrupted from his thoughts by the man sitting beside him. "Oh, yeah," he said. It's in a rad zone, but it's not that rad-heavy any more. As long as you get inside the ship in less than twenty minutes you want get rad poisoning, and you'd have at least twice that with decent anti-rad chems. I've got a few shots on hand, though, so you want need to buy your own." He motioned towards the newcomer. "If you don't mind," he said, "I'm going to see about hiring another hand to deal with those turrets." got up and walked over to her. "Hi." he said, a bit nervous. As heavily armed as she was she was probably a merc or bounty hunter, maybe an anti-raider. "You looking for work?" He didn't pause very long for her reply out of fear that he'd think he wanted to hire for a more private type of work. "I only ask because I'm heading out tomorrow to pull some salvage and I could use someone to help protect me as I haul it back."</s> <\|message\|>Hanna Krauft of the Last Brigade "Hi." The young woman looked up from her shot and faced the man that had approached her. Her cold blue eyes sizing the man up. "You looking for work?....... I only ask because I'm heading out tomorrow to pull some salvage and I could use someone to help protect me as I haul it back." The girl looked away for a moment, briefly mulling over the proposal, then returned her gaze to the man. "Well, as much as I like to help poor defenseless salvagers as they pick over some alien ship like some vulture, those alien ships tend to have some serious variations in threats. Some have petty point defense systems that had degrade over the years, while others can deploy kill drones with A grade weaponry that could wipe this pitiful mud hole off the face of the earth. On top of that, raider groups constantly watch potential salvage areas so that when the little caravan goes into the deadly rad/death drone zone, they essentially allow you guys to bring the loot to them" she paused and took another shot. Turning back to the man, she continued, "So cowboy, as I'm sure you're very well aware, there are a lot of variables that we will face going into this." she took another shot. "But I'll humor you and say this up front. I'll take your offer. And hopefully you can grow a pair and spit it out with a little less hint of pissing yourself." she took another shop. "Oh, and do be quick cowboy, your Amerikana piss vaser is both tasteless and hard hitting."</s> <\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut Stepping up between his new companions Harry pulled a bottle of freshly fermented Poitín from his bag, I stoppered it and slammed it down onto the bar top with a heavy thud which set the glasses all along the counter shaking. A dribble running down the side reached the polished wooden surface and let out a whisp of smoke as it began eating its way through. "Wenn sie auf der suche für ein bessere getränke, junge Mädchen, probieren meine brauen." 1 He declared in his best German. {1} "If you're looking for a better drink, young girl, try my brew." It was clear from the girl's clothes she was from the old European state, and her accent confirmed it for Harry. He'd had enough dealings with her countrymen in the past to know a little of her language, at least enough to get by trading, and drinking.</s> <\|message\|>Hanna Krauft of the Last Brigade The young woman raised an eyebrow as the gruffer looking man that had been sitting with her prospective new employer. He was somewhat more imposing than the other and his cybernetic eye wasn't helping in that department. However, that gruff, intimidating image quickly fell away when he spoke. "Wenn sie auf der suche für ein bessere getränke, junge Mädchen, probieren meine brauen." She suddenly grinned, then stifled a laugh and shook her head. "Danke. Ihr Deutsch ist nicht besonders gut. You offered your eyebrows to me, but I got the jist of it. Netter Versuch." she said with a small giggle. "So, I can only assume, since you were sitting with the gentlemen who so timidly asked me to help that your part of this 'Salvaging Job' then?"</s>	<\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut "I'm the salvaging part of the team, as far I understand. We were just in the process of discussing specifics." Harry responded, leaning against the bar as Elsie placed his regular brew beside him with a wink. Harry knew better than to respond to her little gesture, and as he lifted the mug to his lips he spotted the barman eyeing him carefully. Pretending not to notice the scrutiny the mechanic turned back to the young soldier with a grin. "Speaking of salvage, I couldn't help but notice the gear you're carrying." He said with genuine curiosity, his eyes dropping to the shield generator before bouncing up to the girl's rifle. "Some mighty fine pieces, which I'd be willing to give a good price on if you're interested in selling."</s>
<\|description\|>Hanna Krauft of the Last Brigade Theme Song Age: 25... maybe.... Appearance: She stands at a measly 5'1 with a somewhat small build. Thus it is always surprising when she is actually incredibly strong for her size and build. Personality: Straight-forward, sarcastic, and witty would be the nice way of describing this now wandering soldier. She seems always quick to criticize someone, or highlight their stupidity. However, unlike most, her criticisms and insults are always backed up, matter of fact statements that she will pound you into the ground verbally with. She won't insult your intelligence because she doesn't like you, she'll insult you because you are dumb. Oh, and if you are, say, a raider or an enemy of any kind... she will literally tear your neck out and feel no remorse later.... with a creepy enthusiasm to it. Now, despite this somewhat ironically hostile stance, she can be surprisingly friendly. In times of need, she will comfort you with wisdom you would have never thought to actually come out of her. Perhaps, deep down, she is a much older woman... someone who has seen to many people die in her hands... someone who is just... tired. Skills: Great Assaulter and brutal hand-to-hand fighter. Non-standard Abilities: Incredible Strength: thanks to biological modifications she received when she herself was critically wounded. Strong enough to easily wield a machine gun like an assault rifle or punch you through a wall. She can jump higher and run faster than the normal human as well. Enhanced Perception: A unintended side-effect of her treatment, she is much more sensitive to her surroundings and can process information much faster than a normal human. In layman's terms, she has a very, very good reaction time. Equipment: -A light comms unit in her helmet hooked up to a old military grade touch pad in her bag she uses for merc work. Nice for listening to the radio if anyone is broadcasting nearby. -A high intensity K99 Energy Assault Rifle, this weapon is powered by a high grade, rechargeable ion battery and is incredibly deadly. It punches through physical armor like no other and quickly turns enemies to swiss cheese. In fact, enemy soldiers of the Rad Wars would comment that taking cover behind anything other than a thick concrete wall would be futile, as the high intensity bolts of energy would simply go right through it. Most civilized places of Europe had banned this weapon, but it was common place in the "Rad Wars" of Germany. A fairly rare weapon to say the least on the North American Continent as it was mainly manufactured and used by the remnants of the German military before the total collapse. Its major draw back begin with its effectiveness against energy type shielding. If the shield is somewhat strong, it can stop a bolt entirely, and even if a bolt makes it through, it simply will go through the victim rather than scattering, making it far less deadly. Also, thanks to its burst fire to auto only modes, it's hard to use as a long range weapon. Best for short to medium ranges. -A Mk4 Hardlight Shield that she earned when she saved the life of a town guard's daughter. Essentially a deployable, directional energy shield. -A simple fixed blade 7 inch knife that she uses for just about everything. -A rucksack with a sleeping mat, food, travel supplies, ect. -A light, standard issued armor issued to soldiers of Brandenburg. Can stop small caliber rounds and light energy weapons, but nothing more. It is worn under their distinct camouflage uniforms. Bio: She was born in what had been formerly known as Germany in the great heavily irradiated wastes of Europe. The nation had fractured into factions trying to control the few zones that were not covered in deadly radiation. It was a state of constant, unending wars and suffering. Her home province of Brandenburg controlled a vital city and a serious of energy resources that everyone wanted to get their hands on. She was naturally conscripted into the military at 15 and.... well.... let's just say she was really good at killing people. She became part of the mysterious and widely feared "Bastards of Brandenburg". A murderous group of soldiers who's policy was total annihilation. No prisoners, no surrender, no remorse. She thrived on her bloodlust in that group, from ambushes to outright assaults on headquarters far behind the lines, she lived. Soon though, it all came to an end. For you see, the Bastards are not known as the bastards anymore. Brandenburg is now simply an important territory of the Neo Roman Empire. No, you may actually know the Bastards as "The Last Battalion". You see, a powerful unification turned Brandenburg's closest neighbor into a Juggernaut, slugging it out with Brandenburg. In the capital city, the Bastards of Brandenburg were the last military unit left. They held the city center, outnumbered, outgunned, and left for dead..... for three whole months. Finally though, in the great last stand of the now feared and infamous Last Battalion, they fell in the square at the heart of the city... Here is were they were wiped out for good.... But, as is with life, her suffering was not allowed to end in glorious death. She was discovered by a relief party of Azurians who had stumbled upon the site of the bloody last stand. They found a dying young girl, the only sole survivor of her people. They took Hanna in and nurtured her back to health, being forced to give her steroids and accelerators in order to save her life. When Hanna awoke in her surprisingly sterile bed, she had never felt better. After a short period of rehabilitation, she decided to try to repay her debt to the aliens that saved her by working with them to save others. For two years she acted as a bridge of sorts, allowing the group she was part of to give aid to otherwise hostile communities thanks to her negotiations and first hand accounts with the Azurian people. Eventually, she decided that she could cover more ground in helping people by traveling by herself, thus, gathering her old equipment, she left the Azurian group. They dropped her off in the American Southwest and wished her luck. Thus she set out, traveling the wastes to try to make the world a little better..... A somewhat ironic goal for a depressed, pessimistic, broken soul that is Hanna Krauft.</s> <\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut "... That said, if you'll agree to sell my stuff, excluding the necklace, but including my share of the salvage, and transfer the Valn to my implant where my parent can access it upon my death, you can have the crystal as payment for doing that." Harry watched as the Blueberry rose from her chair and rather unsteadily made her way towards the door. He had to admit she had her charms, and as he watched her hips swaying with each step he admired those charms for as long as she was in sight. With a smile Harry turned back to the stranger at the table and held out his hand, an ancient sign of an agreement having come to terms. "You got yourself a deal." Harry liked salvage claim deals when working as part of a group, it helped keep people together. Not because they trusted one another, since a lot of the time people got a little antsy when their beneficiaries were walking right behind them with a shotgun pointed at their back, but because they'd be unlikely to leave him behind if things turned south since they'd be leaving their own gear behind. Hoisting his satchel up onto the table Harry reached inside and retrieved his tablet before pushing the power cells across to his new business partner. "How about I buy us both a drink to celebrate this union, and you can explain to me a little more about what I just got myself into?" With a quick wave Harry signalled to Elsie, the barman's young wife and chief barmaid, that he was ready to order.</s> <\|message\|>Hanna Krauft of the Last Brigade The town's murmurings had started to go up a bit, passing through, following the source. A lone figure, fairly slim and somewhat short walked towards the bar of the town. The doors to the building opened to reveal a young woman. Her icy blue eyes scanned the bar as she walked in, pulling down the face wrap that covered her mouth from the dust. Walking towards the actual bar itself, the young girl began to slowly be noticed. Men began to look up from their drinks and cards, staring at this oddity as she strode up to the bartender. Her stare was unsettling, almost threatening, but the bartender stood his ground and starred right back at her as she took her seat. By the time she had reached the bar, the room's noise had reduced considerably, many watching the stranger, waiting to see what she was. One of the patrons thought to himself that this was like one of those western stories he read from an old book he scavenged, quietly laughing to himself about how cliche the whole thing was. The woman glanced around the room at the staring eyes, looked to the bartender with her cold stare and, with a strange accent, said, "Do you have any vater?" The bar broke into laughter and the men went back to their conversations and games. "Erm... no young lady, I don't. I got alcohol of all sorts, but, if you want your..."vater", you go get it at the market." "Fine, just pour me a shot." The young girl kept on hand on her odd, wood finished rifle and took the drink in the other. While most had returned to what they were doing, some still eyed the girl.</s> <\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut Over his shoulder Harry's wrench turned to scan the newcomer as she stepped into the bar. Immediately it gave off a warning beep, drawing the mechanic's attention. Turning Harry gave the girl the once-over and immediately spotted the heavy-duty rifle she was carrying. That would be quite a prize, to the right person, he thought to himself, although all I'd need would be a couple of hours in a decent workshop. Not that there were any decent workshops within a hundred miles of the rag-tag little town in which they sat. As she moved towards the bar Harry eyed the girl, spotting the shield unit she was carrying as his eye scanned her carefully, it's energy signature unmistakeable. With a sign he turned back to his new friend with a wry smile. Perhaps another time, he thought, I'll let some other guy try and crack that little nut. "You were saying something about this mission of yours?" Harry said to his 'partner', not wanting to let the issue lie until he'd been given something about their target or destination.</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) Has'la was sipping his glass of Jack with his new "friend", aka employee, when a woman walked in with a fancy rifle, wearing fancy armor. He looked her over, though it would take a keen eye to tell the difference between looking over her equipment and the kind of "looking her over" some of the other men in the bar were doing. They do realize she could kill them without breaking a sweat, right? he thought. "You were saying something about this mission of yours?"@SimplyJohn He was interrupted from his thoughts by the man sitting beside him. "Oh, yeah," he said. It's in a rad zone, but it's not that rad-heavy any more. As long as you get inside the ship in less than twenty minutes you want get rad poisoning, and you'd have at least twice that with decent anti-rad chems. I've got a few shots on hand, though, so you want need to buy your own." He motioned towards the newcomer. "If you don't mind," he said, "I'm going to see about hiring another hand to deal with those turrets." got up and walked over to her. "Hi." he said, a bit nervous. As heavily armed as she was she was probably a merc or bounty hunter, maybe an anti-raider. "You looking for work?" He didn't pause very long for her reply out of fear that he'd think he wanted to hire for a more private type of work. "I only ask because I'm heading out tomorrow to pull some salvage and I could use someone to help protect me as I haul it back."</s> <\|message\|>Hanna Krauft of the Last Brigade "Hi." The young woman looked up from her shot and faced the man that had approached her. Her cold blue eyes sizing the man up. "You looking for work?....... I only ask because I'm heading out tomorrow to pull some salvage and I could use someone to help protect me as I haul it back." The girl looked away for a moment, briefly mulling over the proposal, then returned her gaze to the man. "Well, as much as I like to help poor defenseless salvagers as they pick over some alien ship like some vulture, those alien ships tend to have some serious variations in threats. Some have petty point defense systems that had degrade over the years, while others can deploy kill drones with A grade weaponry that could wipe this pitiful mud hole off the face of the earth. On top of that, raider groups constantly watch potential salvage areas so that when the little caravan goes into the deadly rad/death drone zone, they essentially allow you guys to bring the loot to them" she paused and took another shot. Turning back to the man, she continued, "So cowboy, as I'm sure you're very well aware, there are a lot of variables that we will face going into this." she took another shot. "But I'll humor you and say this up front. I'll take your offer. And hopefully you can grow a pair and spit it out with a little less hint of pissing yourself." she took another shop. "Oh, and do be quick cowboy, your Amerikana piss vaser is both tasteless and hard hitting."</s> <\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut Stepping up between his new companions Harry pulled a bottle of freshly fermented Poitín from his bag, I stoppered it and slammed it down onto the bar top with a heavy thud which set the glasses all along the counter shaking. A dribble running down the side reached the polished wooden surface and let out a whisp of smoke as it began eating its way through. "Wenn sie auf der suche für ein bessere getränke, junge Mädchen, probieren meine brauen." 1 He declared in his best German. {1} "If you're looking for a better drink, young girl, try my brew." It was clear from the girl's clothes she was from the old European state, and her accent confirmed it for Harry. He'd had enough dealings with her countrymen in the past to know a little of her language, at least enough to get by trading, and drinking.</s>	<\|message\|>Hanna Krauft of the Last Brigade The young woman raised an eyebrow as the gruffer looking man that had been sitting with her prospective new employer. He was somewhat more imposing than the other and his cybernetic eye wasn't helping in that department. However, that gruff, intimidating image quickly fell away when he spoke. "Wenn sie auf der suche für ein bessere getränke, junge Mädchen, probieren meine brauen." She suddenly grinned, then stifled a laugh and shook her head. "Danke. Ihr Deutsch ist nicht besonders gut. You offered your eyebrows to me, but I got the jist of it. Netter Versuch." she said with a small giggle. "So, I can only assume, since you were sitting with the gentlemen who so timidly asked me to help that your part of this 'Salvaging Job' then?"</s>
<\|description\|>Stíofán ó Faoláin (English: Stephen Whelan) Age: 28 Appearance: Stephen stands at 6 foot 7 inches (200.66cm), and has medium length, ginger hair. He also has a ginger beard, which he keeps at a medium length. He has pale skin, and is quite muscular. On his left arm he was a tattoo sleeve that he got whilst travelling. The sleeve has a shamrock on it, underneath saying the phrase "Níl aon tinteán mar do thinteán féin", written in a green, Celtic, font. There are also tattoos of: a catholic cross, another quote saying "Only God can judge me", a stem, that splits into two large, wilted, back roses, and a smaller, similarly black and wilted rose, a tattoo of the state of California next to the Republic of Ireland, a hand holding an arrow, and the Irish flag, with the edges dissolving into the skin. His musculature is slightly defined. He also has a scar along his right upper arm from when he was attacked. Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf If werewolf: Beta Background: Stephen grew up in Ireland, speaking Irish as a first language, with English as a second. When he was 21, he moved away to see the world, and then settled down with a friend in California when his family died in a car crash when he was 23. Being Irish, this was not perfect for him, and he was thinking of moving back to Ireland, but was attacked when he went out one night in the dark by a werewolf at the age of 25. Two months later, his friend who he lived then said that he was moving cross country, and Stephen moved into the apartments with the other werewolves. Since joining the pack, Stíofán has always had the feeling that Carlson didn't like him.</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer Kalib let the woman take her bleeding friend from him and nodded. "Right," and headed inside. He recognized the black-haired bartender and ran to her. "Hey, call an ambulance. Some guy just fell outside and he's covered in blood! His friend it out there with him but he really needs to get to the hospital, and fast." Keeping his voice calm, he tried not to make anyone panic. He told himself in his head that the guy will be okay so long as 911 comes.</s> <\|message\|>Dimitri Kozlov Dimitri scowled once he saw the guy ask for the ambulance, rather than getting a medkit, as asked. Maintaining his temper; which he was rather easy at, the Russian got up from where he was leaning on the wall, nearby, moving towards the bar's counter. Easily sliding over, he quickly located the red and white medkit, underneath the counter's tabletop. Grabbing it, Dimitri slid back over the counter, long legs quickly striding him over to where his two accomplices were leaning against the building, outside. His sunglasses were back on, hiding his eyes, but it also allowed him to see easily, despite the darkness from the nightsky. Crouching down, Dimitri handed Yvette the first-aid kit, before taking a few steps back, so that he wouldn't get in her way. First-aid was definitely not his forte, and he knew that Yvette had training in it...most-likely from her delusional Uncle. "Dumbass..." He muttered underneath his voice, once again, but it was unknown on who the insult was directed towards.</s> <\|message\|>Nanix Erka Nanix watched Kalib come and tell her to call 911, then Demitiri come and take the kit. "... something tells me that guy has it" She pointed to him. "you want a drink?"</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer "Huh?" He turned, seeing the tail end of a hulking man leave with something red and white. ". . . . Oh. Er, okay. A rum and cola, please. . ." Kalib said, awkwardly seating himself at the bar. He felt like a spaz for running in like that, and a blockhead for not going for the first aid kit. Attempting not to look as embarrassed as he felt, he leaned against the counter. "How's the night going for ya? Got a lot of tips?" With the multiple times the pack has gone drinking before the full moon, Kalib had began to favor this bartender more then her co-workers and silently scolded himself for not asking her name after all this time. Seeking a peek over his shoulder, he wanted to see if anyone was staring or, at least, not noticing him. "Man, you mucked this one up real good. How will the pack expect to rely on you when you're being stupid and can't handle getting the first aid kit." Chastised his mind. It was one thing being one of the younger werewolves in the pack; its quite another being a young omega who needs to do his job.</s> <\|message\|>Avery Wind Avery listened patiently as Fayth talked and talked about the boys and getting tipsy, her lips almost never stopped moving. It could be good though, at times. Especially when things got uncomfortably silent. Then Fayth mentioned something about a gross guy who needed help, and Avery looked around, her tired eyes frantic. Yet...She saw no one. Avery turned back to Fayth and squinted. "Fayth, are you sure? I don't see anyone. Did he leave, did he look confused?" She resisted the urge to rest her hand on Fayth's forehead to check for a fever. "If you're busy right now, I'll let you get back to your friend's while I make my rounds. Uhh, ladies, do you want anything? Refills, food. Anything?" She took out her little notepad, flipping it open and bringing out a mechanical pencil, covered in scratches and stickers of rainbows. "I suggest our cosmos with a strawberry topping or a lemon twist. Its delicious!"</s> <\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow Between talking about guys and keeping track of everyone at the bar, this was getting exhausting. 'Yes, I'm sure you idiot.' She thought. Tired of everyone giving her lip. Seemed everyone had something to say around here. God, putting up with Jesse and her bad habit of street fights, Mori's suspicions, Ryan's boyfriend. Fayth needed to let out a big sigh. Instead of sipping on that weak appletini like a ditzy blonde girl would, she straight chugged it down in one go. 'Fuck, that's gross.' Fayth cringed. A whiskey girl at heart. Her hand grabbed a hold of Jesse's arm and she made sure to look at her. Even if Jesse might not make eye contact, Fay kept a steady and intense gaze on her face. "We can pick up the tab in much better ways. Safer ways." Keeping in mind everyone around. "Like, I could give you such great pointers, girlie!" Flash the big smile for the cameras. Turn, pose. Then looking over at Mori, she pat her on the back. "I'll be back honey, I know you want to talk to me so so badly." Fayth looked up at Avery. "By the way, this sweetheart right here," indicating Mori, "She ordered her usual. Some juice. No alcohol can you believe it? It's like she's against fun or something." Fay turned to the door. Her scent picking up the blood easily. It made her hair rise and her heart race faster. The blood of animals, she could deal with. But humans? She wanted to stay clear of that path. It didn't lead anywhere. Nowhere except a place of tears and blood. On her way out, Fay yelled out over to Kalib. The other omega who in fact was doing just fine. Calling 911 was one half of the job, the first-aid kit was the second. "Get on the phone and call 911, alright? Sound good? Great." Fay nearly rolled her eyes click-clacking with her ridiculous heels on out the door. Once outside she caught sight of the tall, muscular Russian. He didn't look like someone anyone would like to pick a fight with. Not even a guy Fay would like to fight. Then again, if she could avoid every fight, she would. Not to mention, while Fay was coming out to check on Thomas' health (he was a solid drinking partner), the beep of his phone also interested her. A quick snatch of his cellphone could be nice. The item could sell for a few dollars. Good money. Two problems being Dmitri standing there, and Yvette also watching over him. Fay kneeled down with Yvette. "Do you know what you're doing? If you don't, say so right now and I can take over from here! I'm having an ambulance called because let's be real here guys, he def needs to get to the hospital." Fay paused for a second. Looking at Thomas who was bleeding out. "Gauze, anti-septic wipes, anti-biotic, use the goddamn gloves or risk infecting him, and hurry up and use that mother fucking adhesive tape. If you don't hurry up, I will!"</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer Catching Fay's command as she, too, left out the door, Kalib felt only a smidge better knowing another omega was here in case he messed up. He pulled out his phone and dialed emergency services, telling them the situation, and getting back to what he was doing. "If that guy really does need help, at least someone's coming." He thought, a little less dismal this time. Shoving the negative thoughts from his head, he bucked up and resolved to focus on his job. Turning in his seat, he looked about the scene with alertness. If anything else were to go wrong, he'd make sure he'd catch it (and that he didn't do it himself). It seemed that the usual suspects were at the bar that night. The alphas, a few betas, a bunch of townsfolk looking to have a good night. Even though he was at the bar, he wasn't expecting to get too drunk that night. It wouldn't be new if a few hunters would try to scope out targets a few days before the full moon and Kalib wasn't going to let anyone hurt their pack. Not on his watch.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir @Trinais ~Anton~ Anton watched Ryan walk away with hungry eyes and made herself comfy on her chair. She should really come here regularly - force Ryan into working weeks, perhaps? Anton didn't really know how she felt about Ryan. His eyes are so dreamy... She was awoken by a rapid voice in her ear. "You are done drinking." "Fuck off Carlson. I can drink as much as I intend to. Which, like all of the rest of my private life, is none of your business." Anton watched Thomas being tended to by, literally, everyone. She took this as an opportunity to get away from Carlson, and lifting herself over the bar, went into the cooler room where she found Ryan. "Hey, Ryan? I've waited long enough, where do you store my Vodka?" She began rooting through cupboards without waiting for an answer. 'Fuckin' Ryan,' she thought.</s> <\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Mori Did it only seem or was the bar really unusually loud that night? Sure, it was a rush hour, like every other month before the full moon. A pack of wolves ordering drinks, and causing minor troubles that come with that, then some other human locals, who were also more or less regular costumers in the bar. In all that crazy bunch, Mori noticed three fairy new visitors, who on a first glance seem to know each other. And yet they did not make an entrance together. That guy, who soon became the center of all the attention, bursting in the bar covered in blood, and then Mr. Muscles, as Fay called him, drinking water, while everyone around him was indulging in the mind numbing liquid. He sure seemed like a dream date for Mori, but judging from herself, she knew that you should never trust a man who does not drink alcohol, because they are probably up to something. She lost herself in thought with scanning the mysterious threesome, and completely overhead Fay's words about her not being fun due to drinking juice. When she finally got her drink, she realized all the fun had already moved outside, with the three strangers gone, and of course Fay, who seemed to take control of the situation pretty well. Strangely enough, that didn't bother Mori at all, what bothered her was the fact that Carlson was giving all the attention to Anton, who did what she knew best – victimize herself with overdrinking, and then getting all the attention for it. ''Carlson!'' she called for her partner, who didn't seem to hear her the first time. ''God dammit, Carlson!'' she called for him again, and then walked herself right next to him, right at the moment Antony managed to get away from his norturing grip. ''Something's up,'' she said through her teeth, looking at Carlson to see if he was monitoring his surroundings at all. ''Something is not right here. I can feel it.''</s> <\|message\|>Yvette Stowe "I would prefer it if you move away..." Yvette murmured. She dug through the medical kit, working quickly to at least clot the wound so that the flow of blood would cease. "The wound isn't too harsh, however it is rather deep, but not deep enough to scratch the surface of the bone. It isn't as dire as you think, it was earlier because he did nothing but sit and drink nonchalantly as if nothing had ever happened, and during that timeframe he lost quite a bit of blood." Well, time to put her uncle's teachings into use. She rubbed her hands on her pants, slipped on the gloves the kit had given her and began to pour hydrogen peroxide onto a sterilized piece of cloth. Antibiotics were important yet surprisingly missing from the medical kit, however that could be settled at the emergency room of the hospital, for now Yvette would have to settle with simply cleaning the wound, then dressing it with a decent layer of gauze and a compression bandage from another piece of cloth. "I can drive to the hospital faster than an ambulance can arrive, so don't waste your time with calling it." Yvette closed the lit, placed it into the hands of Dimitri, then wrapped Thomas' un-injured arm over her shoulders so that she was able to slide him into the back seat of her Camaro. "I appreciate the help though." She headed over to the drivers seat and rolled down the window. "Dimitri, meet us at the hospital, afterwards we'll talk." Yvette gave him a small nod, then drove off. "This would have been a lot easier if someone had decided to go get treated instead of drink... What a pain in my ass. I'm no den mother." She grunted and slammed her fist onto her car horn, honking it violently as she whizzed past cars to make it to the hospital in a short amount of time.</s>	<\|message\|>Stíofán ó Faoláin (English: Stephen Whelan) Stephen wondered how the Russian man had a connection with the heavily bleeding man, but continued to listen. After a minute or so of talking, the bleeding man left the bar, and a few people followed, including the Russian man and his female friend. Stephen assumed that they were leaving, and didn't follow. However, after a couple of minutes it appeared as though there was a problem outside the bar. He wanted to know what was happening, so he stood up, and went outside. He was about to offer help, when the woman was taking the bleeding man into her car. Stephen spoke to the Russian man, who was a bit shorter than himself, but more muscular, "I was about to ask if you wanted any help," he told him, not bothering to dull down his Irish accent, "But it looks like you don't need it. What happened?" he asked.</s>
<\|description\|>Ryan Jameson Age: 27 Appearance: (image or description is fine) Cannot get images to work (>.<), so I'll just say 6-foot-3, 150 lbs. Dark brown hair cut short on the sides, Ryan is dressed in Midwestern jeans and tees from the thrift shop. Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Beta Werewolf Background: The son of a rancher father and a stay-at-home mom, Ryan Jameson grew up with the sun over his head and the wind at his back while mom and dad tried to bring him up right. Hard work was rewarded and good behavior would be noticed out in the real world, they said. So when dad took mom out to Topeka for an anniversary, they had no qualms about leaving their son to watch the house for a night. And when Ryan found a large dog in one of the newer remote-controlled coyote traps, he did what his dad taught him to: keep it locked up and wait for dad to grab his gun and take care of it. When he heard other dogs howling on his way back to the house, Ryan didn't pay it no mind. Figured the strays would run together. Of course, when he got to the front porch of the house and felt himself tackled and bit into by a pair of other dogs, he straight up lost it. And when the dogs coordinated to drag him into the fields, he passed out from fear. After which he promptly awoke in the basement of another house (later learned to be the suburbs of Topeka). The Alpha of the pack didn't appreciate being caught in a common animal trap, making him look like a fool to his Betas. And he sure as hell didn't like being left out there until Ryan's "dear daddy" came back to put a bullet in his brain like he did to the pack's number three Beta last full moon. So he did Ryan the pleasure of informing him the pup would be taking the Beta's place. It was a rough crowd at first, but Ryan took to the job of being a Beta with natural ease. He wasn't able to watch the news and see the search effort his parents lead, but it was probably for the better. The bony, pimply faces on milk cartons and the cable networks were much more different than his new, muscular and lean look the wolf in him brought out. Maybe it was Stockholm Syndrome, or maybe it was just a new love for his supernatural life, but after the first year Ryan didn't think about reaching out to his family again. Probably for the best; his dad was crucified by the media as an irresponsible parent and locked up under suspicion of murdering his own son, and his mom offed herself not long after under the media scrutiny. After a few years, Ryan started to flex his legs and leverage his status as a dominant Beta for more freedom. The Topeka Alpha, Jared Wilks, resisted and kept Ryan on a tight leash to keep the Betas in line and prevent an insurrection, but when Mori the Alpha came to town, things changed right quick. She ran with Topeka for a couple of days before realizing what was going on: a pack with twenty wolves wasn't the norm in her travels. Jared added a new wolf to his pack every year, while another easily wouldn't live through the change. Mori saw this wasn't going to last forever- sooner or later a Hunter would catch on and come to town and clean house. So she did the only sensible thing she could think of. She kicked the shit out of Jared and scattered the pack by force. Ryan, not sure what to do without his Alpha to follow, took to following Mori out West to Cali. Moving out to California, Ryan hasn't fully integrated with the new pack. He keeps to himself, working at the last bar in town, "The Backhouse," as a mixer. California hasn't been the land of milk and honey he hoped it would be, but he's started seeing a human by the name of Michael on his nights off. The budding relationship between Ryan and Michael is a source of potential conflict for the pack- Ryan hasn't told Michael what he does on his "Fishing Trips" during the full moon, and Ryan has gotten overly aggressive whenever the subject of turning Michael to keep pack secrecy has been brought up...</s> <\|message\|>Stíofán ó Faoláin (English: Stephen Whelan) Stíofán ó Faoláin It was the last night before the full moon, and Stephen walked down the stairs of the block of flats that all of the werewolves lived in, and strolled down the road. It was beginning to get dark, and soon there would be a slight chill in the air. This is normal for Greyville, however, and Stephen liked this. It reminded him of home, back in Ireland. He continued down the road until he got to the pub, the last one in Greyville in fact, The Backhouse. All of the werewolves liked to go here on the last night before the full moon. They wouldn't be able to have much to drink tomorrow night, so they drank tonight to make up for it. Stephen walked into the pub, and looked around. He was the first of the werewolves there, as per usual. The rest of them had family to say goodbye to, or some work to do, or something like that. Stephen didn't have any of this. He didn't have a wife or children to say goodbye to, and legally, he wasn't a US citizen, so he couldn't get a job. He didn't want to risk applying for a work visa and being deported because he was here illegally. There was no police station in Greyville, and the police who were supposed to patrol the town rarely came, anyway. Stephen found a relatively dark area of the pub, he didn't really feel like speaking to anyone, and sat down. He'd wait for a few more werewolves to come in before he ordered a drink, and perhaps he'd get drunk enough to feel like striking up a conversation with someone.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir ~Anton~ Anton looked up at the moon - it was almost full. Pulling on her jacket, she edged into the darkness beyond her apartment door. She could hear other people (probably werewolves) saying goodbye to family and friends, and sighed. As she walked down the stairs a few fellow werewolves gave her dirty looks; she gave them straight back. She felt like getting drunk. Too drunk. The drink would drown all her sorrows, like being demoted, her friend loss, everything. Besides, the more she drank, the less discomfort she would feel tomorrow. As Anton walked into the cool night air, she could (with her developed senses) smell someone lurking in the shadows. She pretended not to notice them, then turned around and pounced. Her face connected with the pavement. 'Ah.' she thought, when her eyes met with a squirrel. Maybe she was losing her touch. Heading towards the bar, she could swear she smelled an unpleasant human scent. Anton walked in the bar. "Gimme a round o' Fireside Flamers - mostly wine, yeah?" she ordered at the barmaid. She could see a fellow beta wolf, Stephen, lurking in a corner. She gave him a small salute and, grinning, yelled behind her, "And an extra strong vodka!"</s>	<\|message\|>Ryan Jameson "What time do you think you're going to be back tonight?" Goddammit, Ryan knew he was going to ask that question. And the worst part was, he heard the change in Michael's voice on the other side of the phone when he asked it. The upbeat chattery voice he'd had a moment ago when discussing his latest art project at the Community College was gone. Ryan could see him now, his face tinged with paint, tanned skin smudged with red and white and blue, pacing in front of a canvas barefoot and shirtless while he stood on a white sheet in their loft. Now Michael sounded like he was treading eggshells. Or broken glass. Ryan had to take a very loud pull on his cigarette to buy himself a moment to think. The Monthly Pack meetings were a necessity. Not just because of his status as a Beta, but it was a condition for his moving in with Michael. Bad enough he felt like he'd abandoned one family to start another, but Michael was definitely suspicious about the "fishing trips" he went on every month. "I, ah, won't be back until morning," Ryan said cautiously. "Group meeting, you know? We're going down to the river to catch trout." Silence. "Right," Michael said. "Trout." "Or whatever we can catch. Fish is fish." Please don't get pissed. Please don't get pissed! "Whatever. Call me when you get back. I'll probly be over in Portside getting my gallery showing set up." Click. 'I'll be there for the gallery!' was on the tip of Ryan's tongue when Michael hung up. But that was that. Ryan shut his phone down, tossed the cigarette against the back wall of the building, and shuffled back inside through the kitchen. He wanted to hit someone. Something. He couldn't help feeling pissed at Michael for not giving him one night a month to be himself. At the same time, he was completely pissed at himself for not telling Michael the truth. It wasn't a guarantee that Michael would run for the hills screaming if he knew Ryan was one level above an "extreme closet Furry" as he'd once put it. But it WAS a guarantee that he'd be forced into their club if he found out what Ryan moonlighted as. There was no dancing around that fine line. So Ryan kept lying to Michael about fishing trips, despite never buying a pole or tackle ever ("The club has extras, so why spend the money?") and always bringing home stuff from the Market ("No bights last night, babe. But I'll make you dinner!") The whole reason Ryan kept lying to Michael was to give himself a taste of the real world. What his life might have been like if Topeka hadn't happened. He was getting the full package of human relationships now- especially the "lying to one's spouse about some deep dark secret" thing. At the bar, Michael spotted Stephen hiding in the corner and instinctively poured him a cold PBR, sliding it to one of the servers to send his way. When Anton showed up and asked for her Fireside Flamers, Ryan had to roll his eyes. He popped open a bottle of California red, then opened an underside fridge where he kept "the good stuff" chilled. The bottle of vodka he pulled out was on special order for Anton A.) because it was $70 a bottle and B.) because she was the only person in this state crazy enough to drink it. All the other vodkas he kept were way too weak in her opinion, and she'd let Ryan know. "Anton, you know this stuff is practically jet fuel, yeah?"</s>
<\|description\|>Ryan Jameson Age: 27 Appearance: (image or description is fine) Cannot get images to work (>.<), so I'll just say 6-foot-3, 150 lbs. Dark brown hair cut short on the sides, Ryan is dressed in Midwestern jeans and tees from the thrift shop. Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Beta Werewolf Background: The son of a rancher father and a stay-at-home mom, Ryan Jameson grew up with the sun over his head and the wind at his back while mom and dad tried to bring him up right. Hard work was rewarded and good behavior would be noticed out in the real world, they said. So when dad took mom out to Topeka for an anniversary, they had no qualms about leaving their son to watch the house for a night. And when Ryan found a large dog in one of the newer remote-controlled coyote traps, he did what his dad taught him to: keep it locked up and wait for dad to grab his gun and take care of it. When he heard other dogs howling on his way back to the house, Ryan didn't pay it no mind. Figured the strays would run together. Of course, when he got to the front porch of the house and felt himself tackled and bit into by a pair of other dogs, he straight up lost it. And when the dogs coordinated to drag him into the fields, he passed out from fear. After which he promptly awoke in the basement of another house (later learned to be the suburbs of Topeka). The Alpha of the pack didn't appreciate being caught in a common animal trap, making him look like a fool to his Betas. And he sure as hell didn't like being left out there until Ryan's "dear daddy" came back to put a bullet in his brain like he did to the pack's number three Beta last full moon. So he did Ryan the pleasure of informing him the pup would be taking the Beta's place. It was a rough crowd at first, but Ryan took to the job of being a Beta with natural ease. He wasn't able to watch the news and see the search effort his parents lead, but it was probably for the better. The bony, pimply faces on milk cartons and the cable networks were much more different than his new, muscular and lean look the wolf in him brought out. Maybe it was Stockholm Syndrome, or maybe it was just a new love for his supernatural life, but after the first year Ryan didn't think about reaching out to his family again. Probably for the best; his dad was crucified by the media as an irresponsible parent and locked up under suspicion of murdering his own son, and his mom offed herself not long after under the media scrutiny. After a few years, Ryan started to flex his legs and leverage his status as a dominant Beta for more freedom. The Topeka Alpha, Jared Wilks, resisted and kept Ryan on a tight leash to keep the Betas in line and prevent an insurrection, but when Mori the Alpha came to town, things changed right quick. She ran with Topeka for a couple of days before realizing what was going on: a pack with twenty wolves wasn't the norm in her travels. Jared added a new wolf to his pack every year, while another easily wouldn't live through the change. Mori saw this wasn't going to last forever- sooner or later a Hunter would catch on and come to town and clean house. So she did the only sensible thing she could think of. She kicked the shit out of Jared and scattered the pack by force. Ryan, not sure what to do without his Alpha to follow, took to following Mori out West to Cali. Moving out to California, Ryan hasn't fully integrated with the new pack. He keeps to himself, working at the last bar in town, "The Backhouse," as a mixer. California hasn't been the land of milk and honey he hoped it would be, but he's started seeing a human by the name of Michael on his nights off. The budding relationship between Ryan and Michael is a source of potential conflict for the pack- Ryan hasn't told Michael what he does on his "Fishing Trips" during the full moon, and Ryan has gotten overly aggressive whenever the subject of turning Michael to keep pack secrecy has been brought up...</s> <\|message\|>Ryan Jameson "Special's not up yet," Ryan said to Avery, watching as Anton downed her vile concoction and demanded more. Ryan just shook his head and put the whole bottle on the counter for her. "Southern Fireballs at two-for-five tonight. Russian Reuben sandwiches for six bucks, just as bad as always." Ryan gave Avery a wide berth as she moved across the bar. It was hard enough being a waitress at a place that didn't serve alcohol. Her tips might be a little higher here, but sooner or later someone became a drunk asshole and the nights got interesting. Speaking of assholes, he pulled his phone out as it vibrated in his pocket. Heading to studio. Call tmrw? "Hey Avery, what do you buy someone when you need to say 'Sorry I've been an asshole lately?'" But Ryan didn't stick around to hear the answer to that one. Anton had already plowed through the potato-based jet fuel he'd given her and was making for the ladies room. "Oh fuckberries." Ryan slipped out from behind the bar, following in Anton's wake until she went into the ladies room. And he dared not cross that threshold. "Anton," Ryan yelled, pounding the door. "Anton, I can hear you puking in there! Flush the damn toilet this time, all right?"</s> <\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow In the darkness of the clear sky night, Fayth held the last of a cigarette to her lips. Taking one last, long and smooth drag. The bright orange glow burned away as she tossed it to the ground. Blowing out a puff of smoke that hazed up in front of her face, drifting up into the nothingness above. She crushed the cigarette underneath her foot, grinding it against asphalt. Looking at The Backhouse as it began to fill with the familiar faces of her new pack. Fayth watched them carefully. Even those who were human. In today's world, knowing who to trust and who needed to be watched was a necessity. The only problem with that was one thing: everyone needed to be watched. As the new Omega of the tribe, her hardened gaze needed to be focused as ever. While this pack had survived and kept great numbers in the death rate, it seemed to her that they had grown too relaxed. Ryan had his stubborn, infuriating ways. His human boyfriend was becoming a problem of sorts. No one could know about their secrets otherwise everyone's life was in jeopardy. Most importantly, her own life would be in trouble. Fayth wasn't going to let anyone get in the way of her own survival. Then there was Anton and her foolish habits. Her sorrows and depression. Instead of getting on with her life, Anton had decided to drown herself in the venomous belly of the worst snake of all: alcohol. Not that Fay didn't indulge herself. She'd like to think she had herself under control when it came to drinking. Anton needed a lesson, fast. Every single one of them did. The more Fay thought about it, the more this monthly visit to the bar seemed incredibly stupid. A whole pack of werewolves in one place, conveniently on the night before the full moon. The same people. The same day. Every month. It didn't take rocket science for a hunter to figure out that something was strange about this all. Everyone was so undisciplined. It's a goddamn miracle they're all alive. Fayth sighed as it was time for her to walk into the pub. She worked part time there as a bartender, but on these nights she decided to take the night off. Be on watch for her fellow wolves. And tonight she looked every bit the part she wanted to play. Her dyed blonde hair let loose flowing down her shoulders. A pair of hooped earrings in. Black heels, and a tight black dress that revealed her long smooth legs as she strutted on into the bar. Her heels clacking the entire way as she moved on in. Fay gave a brilliant smile to those who were there. Especially the men. Showing off as she moved on up to a stool at the bar and took her seat. Placing her purse on the counter. The blonde looked around and spotted Avery immediately. "Hey gorgeous! Can you help a girl out over here? I need to get cray tonight. Tipsy! Ya' know? I'll take the usual by the way." The usual being an appletini that would probably get most men laughed at if they ordered it. She claimed to hate the taste of alcohol and just wanted that sweet drink.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir ~Anton~ "Yeah, yeah." Anton muttered, whizzing around and flushing the toilet. So much for "drowning her sorrows". More like drowning sick down a toilet. She was highly regretting puking it up; once a month was far too little time to drink good strong Vodka. She mentally slapped herself for not being able to survive the Vodka, and burst out the bathroom door only to collide with Ryan pounding on the door. "Ryan! You scared the shit out of me! Look, I heard you the first time, ok? Now I need more Vodka. And please don't tell me you only got one bottle AGAIN!" She strode over to a dank table that had not been wiped properly, sat down, and waited expectantly for Ryan to bring her anything.</s> <\|message\|>Yvette Stowe Greyville, a place that Yvette knew was packed full of werewolves. By her research, and the research of others, and established pack was located in this town, however the only problem would be fishing them out and eradicating their very existence off the face of this earth. She let out a small huff as she stared at her laptop screen. A word document filled with her theories had been sitting in front of her for the past hour while she had sat around and thought... Man, thinking was hard. The young hunter leaned back in her chair and let out a frustrated sigh as she sat up and ran her fingers through her hair. "Dimitri might be up to something." Yvette murmured. He was already taking the initiative, in fact he probably might have already done something catastrophic. She shook her head lightly and paced about her apartment room, thinking of things to do before she would actually start heading out into the forests for late night hunting. Ah, well she could grab a drink? It wouldn't hurt to participate in normal activities once and awhile? With that thought in mind, Yvette gathered her hair up into a bun, put on a leather jacket to relieve herself of the cold winds and left her apartment to satisfy her taste for drinking. The young woman slipped into her sleek black Camaro, the trunk already filled with the appropriate weaponry for hunting, and drove off. Yvette took the fast and edgy way to the bar by speeding past signs which would probably end up with her mailbox stuffed full of tickets for disobeying the town's traffic laws. No matter, she could pay it off in due time. ---- The Hunter pulled up near the bar and exited her car, her hands stuffed into her pockets as she slid through the entrance and settled down at the bar counter. Well, since she was alone, maybe she should pester Dimitri? Yvette pulled out her phone and sent him a quick text. Lmao ay, cum 2 duh bar.</s> <\|message\|>Jesse Williams Where other members of the pack left their respective home or flat, giving their families the good-bye-smooch or some such nonsense, Jesse kicked her door close, leaving nothing behind but a messy, lifeless apartment. Reeking of copulation and the feral smell one would know from animal cages at the zoo. But ultimately, it was devoid of life today. It was rather usual for the fine lady Williams to kick temporary lovers out of her lair without mercy for their bodily well-being nor the accepted noise level of the block, though not today. She left on her own, in what one would call 'good' mood, wearing nothing less than brass knuckles on her right hand like shiny, sparkly jewelry. She passed a few others on the path down the stairway, gracefully ignoring their presence, uncaring wether or not they looked at her with hostility (that would be other wolves) or awe (as did the few human inhabitants of the building). She made her way out on the streets, bouncing rather than walking. It was the night before the night, and though the bar would be crowded with canines, it was a promising night for lovers of a good scuffle. About twenty minutes later, Jesse arrived at the bar. The acute observer would notice a time loss of about ten minutes, walking the distance from her apartment to the establishment, however. A fresh bundle of bank notes in her pocket as well as a few splatters of blood adorning her knuckle dusters and right arm implied the cause of her delay. Being without a steady income, the woman had to 'make' some money every now and then, and the unlucky victim of tonight was a semi-professional dealer trying to make some quick cash on her route to the pub. What the poor guy forgot to consider when picking a police-free neighbourhood was the better-than-average sense of smell a handful of people around here had, something that came incredibly handy when looking for a quick 'money dispenser'. After a quick 'chat' with the gentleman that thoroughly convinced him to avoid this area of Greyville in the future, Jesse arrived at the bar, quickly letting her blood-covered weapon disappear in the pockets of her sleeveless hoodie. She cared enough to superficially wipe the clearly visible blood on her arm away, leaving some less noticeable but still hardly secreted smears. Upon entering with an utterly amused expression - the evening started fairly entertaining after all - she sought a place at the counter, avoiding the general 'pack corner'. For her it was more fun to converse with the clueless human customers anyway, and that lessened the chances for a brawl with the other wolves too. Not that she was eager to avoid such a thing, but pretending to always looked better in the eyes of the alphas. Her choice of a seat was strategically closer to Avery than to Ryan. Unsurprisingly, she addressed the human when issuing her first order of the night. "Hey sweety, how about you pour me some vodka? Make it the good 'ol cheap stuff, alright?" Jesse wasn't the kind to ask for expensive stuff. Heck, she hardly ever had enough money on her to pay the tab after a night of drinking cheap shit. Living at the low end of low makes you numb enough to not care, though.</s>	<\|message\|>Ryan Jameson Pounding the door until he heard the toilet flush was a good way to persuade Anton to actually flush her sick down. A single stall ladies room was within state regulations for a place this size, but only just. So when Anton opened up for Ryan, he was swinging so fast that he fell forward, spinning on his heel just in time to catch himself before clipping his face on the porcelain sink. "Christ Anton, you blew through that stuff, puke it down, then want more? If you weren't... well, you, then I'd say you're looking at killing your liver." Ryan knew for a fact, however, that there was no more of the 'Jet Fuel' behind the bar to be had. He'd have to go to the cooler for more. "Avery? Can you take over for me while I get more J-F for Anton? Thanks lovely!"</s>
<\|description\|>Ryan Jameson Age: 27 Appearance: (image or description is fine) Cannot get images to work (>.<), so I'll just say 6-foot-3, 150 lbs. Dark brown hair cut short on the sides, Ryan is dressed in Midwestern jeans and tees from the thrift shop. Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Beta Werewolf Background: The son of a rancher father and a stay-at-home mom, Ryan Jameson grew up with the sun over his head and the wind at his back while mom and dad tried to bring him up right. Hard work was rewarded and good behavior would be noticed out in the real world, they said. So when dad took mom out to Topeka for an anniversary, they had no qualms about leaving their son to watch the house for a night. And when Ryan found a large dog in one of the newer remote-controlled coyote traps, he did what his dad taught him to: keep it locked up and wait for dad to grab his gun and take care of it. When he heard other dogs howling on his way back to the house, Ryan didn't pay it no mind. Figured the strays would run together. Of course, when he got to the front porch of the house and felt himself tackled and bit into by a pair of other dogs, he straight up lost it. And when the dogs coordinated to drag him into the fields, he passed out from fear. After which he promptly awoke in the basement of another house (later learned to be the suburbs of Topeka). The Alpha of the pack didn't appreciate being caught in a common animal trap, making him look like a fool to his Betas. And he sure as hell didn't like being left out there until Ryan's "dear daddy" came back to put a bullet in his brain like he did to the pack's number three Beta last full moon. So he did Ryan the pleasure of informing him the pup would be taking the Beta's place. It was a rough crowd at first, but Ryan took to the job of being a Beta with natural ease. He wasn't able to watch the news and see the search effort his parents lead, but it was probably for the better. The bony, pimply faces on milk cartons and the cable networks were much more different than his new, muscular and lean look the wolf in him brought out. Maybe it was Stockholm Syndrome, or maybe it was just a new love for his supernatural life, but after the first year Ryan didn't think about reaching out to his family again. Probably for the best; his dad was crucified by the media as an irresponsible parent and locked up under suspicion of murdering his own son, and his mom offed herself not long after under the media scrutiny. After a few years, Ryan started to flex his legs and leverage his status as a dominant Beta for more freedom. The Topeka Alpha, Jared Wilks, resisted and kept Ryan on a tight leash to keep the Betas in line and prevent an insurrection, but when Mori the Alpha came to town, things changed right quick. She ran with Topeka for a couple of days before realizing what was going on: a pack with twenty wolves wasn't the norm in her travels. Jared added a new wolf to his pack every year, while another easily wouldn't live through the change. Mori saw this wasn't going to last forever- sooner or later a Hunter would catch on and come to town and clean house. So she did the only sensible thing she could think of. She kicked the shit out of Jared and scattered the pack by force. Ryan, not sure what to do without his Alpha to follow, took to following Mori out West to Cali. Moving out to California, Ryan hasn't fully integrated with the new pack. He keeps to himself, working at the last bar in town, "The Backhouse," as a mixer. California hasn't been the land of milk and honey he hoped it would be, but he's started seeing a human by the name of Michael on his nights off. The budding relationship between Ryan and Michael is a source of potential conflict for the pack- Ryan hasn't told Michael what he does on his "Fishing Trips" during the full moon, and Ryan has gotten overly aggressive whenever the subject of turning Michael to keep pack secrecy has been brought up...</s> <\|message\|>Jesse Williams The sight of Anton and Carlson having a shout-level conversation was not the least bit surprising to Jess. It was a bit unfortunate still, as the alpha was one out of the two people in the pack she wasn't eager to have a physical confrontation with - she still maintained the required respect for their two leaders, most of the time. Getting them all angry and upset about herself was not a smart move, specifically so since Mori and Fay had so much advantageous tension going on between one another. "That should be enough for you. You can't take much abuse. I've seen it." Fay's voice finished Jess' train of thought and made her glare daggers at the blonde after a moment of surprise. She sure didn't see that blow coming her way. "What the fuck are you on about? Who gave you the right to meter paying customers intake, miss appletini?" Jesse didn't remember a single incident that the blondes statement could be referring to - being blessed with selective memory no doubt. She was half-aware that Fay probably just tried to push her buttons, but there was a certain sense of pride swelling up. Being called out like that in a public bar was a low blow. Jess worked hard for her reputation and didn't accept the omega tearing it down because she was butthurt over a rejection from some russian thug. She pushed the half-empty glass away from her, back to the person with the bottle in her bloody - for some reason - hands. Jess half rose from her chair, caught between getting proper upset with Fay and moving over to help Anton start a war. Both options had their advantages, both had a catch. While she knew arguing with the omega was no good and that she should by no means get provoked into throwing the first actual punch, she still lingered at the bar for a moment longer. In an unexpected and no doubt liquor-fueled turn of events, she put a hand on Kalibs shoulder. "I think you're right, Cal. She doesn't seem quite alright to me. Maybe someone should take that bottle o' Whisky from her."</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer "Y'know, that sounds like a good idea." The Californian said, the tiniest hint of a bite in his tone. "'Scuse me." He rolled on by, shaking Jesse's hand from his shoulder and taking with him the bottle from Fay and the glass of whiskey that was poured. "This isn't ours." With a raise of his eyebrows and a stained smile, indicating the two girls to stop trying to start something, he went over to the nice black-haired bartender and handed to her the bar's drinks. "Sorry about them, it's been a weird night." The apologetic tone of his voice was sincere as he fished out some more bills to pay for whatever Fay and Jesse had drank. Turning once again to his pack members, "Something is definitely up and we're leaving. I'll go get Anton. Can we save this for the apartments?" He didn't want an all-out fight happening right there behind the counter with innocent people hanging all around when there was more important things to do. "We can continue arguing until the second coming of Jesus but right now we should start heading home." As he took his leave of them, he quietly hoped that neither of the two would jump him in the night or something. Jesse was scary enough with her devil-may-care attitude and love for fights but adding Fay to the mix wasn't helping much either. He wanted to be friends with his fellow wolves but if they kept trying to incite something, then something had to be done. He went to aid Carlson in his endeavor to have Anton stop drinking. The incident with Anton had happened before Kalib had joined the pack and at first he felt bad for Anton's situation, hoping maybe he could help her out one day. But since then he realized what was really up and now wanted all this stuff with Anton to stop because that is no way to move on.</s> <\|message\|>Carlson Jakes Carlson Carlson turned to Kalib, and firmly stated - seeming to ignore Anton's whining and insubordinace "Kalib, get Anton back to the apartments. I am done dealing with her like a whining child." He said evenly, and with purpose. He had more important things to do, and he quickly realized that Anton's alcohol issue was not his problem- not right now anyway. He then, finally, turned to Stiofan "Don't follow them, Stephen, please" He requested "I will gather the Omegas tomorrow and draw up a battle plan of sorts. I don't like this just as much as you don't.... also, I want you there at the Omega meeting, is that clear?" Nanix Nanix grabbed Anton's arm "Who the HELL do you think you are?? That broken bottle is gonna come right out of my paycheck you twit!" She was not above yelling, like Carlson was, and she certainly was ready to kick Anton out.</s> <\|message\|>Anthar "Shadow Bolt" Raclaw Wow, this is going surprisingly well! He had very little experience with women, since life as a hunter does not leave much time for leisure. Anthar put on his best smile, trying not to look nervous and said: "That is why I came here after all. And I won't mind sharing my drink with a pretty lady like yourself!" He noticed her eyeing his muscular torso. That is one of the perks of being a werewolf hunter. He opened the door to the bar, and held it open for her, remembering the laws of etiquette. The moment he opened the door, the raucous sound of yelling came rushing out at him. There was a strong smell of alcohol and he could see blood drops all over the floor. The place was full of people, mostly between the ages of 20 and 30, and they all seemed to be angry. This isn't how I remember bars looking like. He didn't see anyone he knew inside. Not that he was surprised, he was new to this town, but anyway he had already found someone to talk to, or so it would seem.</s> <\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Mori Mori's mind was running a million miles a minute, trying to figure out whether this guy was a hunter in disguise, or was he just a random guy, wanting nothing but to get into some woman's pants. Either way, she decided to play it safe. As a woman she didn't care much for romance or male chivalry, so she'd never expect any man to hold the door for her the way this stranger did. Not really knowing how to respond, she just smiled akwardly, and stepped inside the bar, where chaos still persisted. At that point, Mori haven't had a plan yet as what to do with a possible hunter by her side, but she figured it would be better to handle things by herself. By the looks of it, she couldn't rely on anyone from her pack at that moment, because they all seemed to be busy with either Anton's or Fay's trouble-making. But still, she should at least tell someone of her intentions. ''Hey, I'm going to get us a bottle, and then we can head somewhere more quiet than this. There's a free storage room near the toilettes. I'm sure nobody will disturb us there,'' Mori purred with a seductive voice, she didn't knew she had up to that point, and winked at him. She then turned around, and almost throw up a little in her mouth, being disgusted by this whole flirting thing. She walked toward the bar, completely ignoring everything that was going on there, including Fay and her raging. She again approached Kalib, who seemed a bit confused, and frustrated, probably by the fact that no one was listening to him. ''Calib,'' she called for him. ''Change of plans. We are staying. I think we have a hunter in our midst. I'm going to go check him out. Privately. Inform Carlson. Be ready if something goes wrong,'' she instructed him quickly, while grabbing the first bottle of alcohol she could reach. She then took a walk back to her date, took his hand and pulled him toward the toilettes.</s>	<\|message\|>Ryan Jameson Dammit all, but he hated Pack Night. Anton always got completely knocked off her rocker, the place became a mess, and Ryan had to leave early with everyone (full moon and all that), leaving Avery to clean up after this pack of mutts. Ryan had been able to mitigate this mess by hiding Anton's "jet fuel" vodka in a separate cooler from the rest of the hard stuff. He couldn't NOT sell to The Backhouse's most lucrative customer, but Mori's dislike of the hard drinking was well known. So Ryan took the initiative in hiding the heavy stuff in the meat locker. It was all well and good until his phone started buzzing. Michael. "Hey babe! What's up?" "Hey hon, just calling to let you know I can't find the house key, so the front door is going to be unlocked. That cool?" Not in the slightest. Aside from the usual home invaders, Ryan had a nasty feeling that, tonight of all nights, they needed to lock up the house. But he couldn't force Michael to stay home all night, not with his boyfriend already pissed and suspicious about the "Fishing trip" tonight. "Yeah babe. That's cool. I'll call one of the neighbors and ask them to keep an eye on the place." Of course, there was a loud crash of glass on hard floor, along with Anton's cursing from the regular booze cooler. Dammit all to hell! "Listen babe, gotta go- I love you!" "Bye." Great. Not even an 'I love you too.' He was in deep this time. Ryan snagged two bottle of jet fuel and hoofed it out of the freezer, shutting and locking the door behind him. He'd get to the broken glass later, but as he made it back behind the bar it dawned on him how packed the place had become. Full house- humans and wolves. Pretty soon the kitchen would be running orders out too. "Anton," he said, putting one bottle on the counter and another behind it. "This is your cutoff point. Just for making a mess in the back I'll have to clean up." Without another word, Ryan passed the second bottle of Jet Fuel to Mori. If the human didn't know what the stuff was, he'd get wasted in no time and not know which way was up. Mori would know how dangerous the stuff was to one's liver and tongue just from dealing with Anton. Leaning in to Mori, he said "Boss, I, ah, I'm gonna be late tonight. Michael lost his house key. Gotta lock up before group meeting."</s>
<\|description\|>Avery ~°~°~ Age Twenty-Five ~°~°~ Appearance Avery is a natural brunnette with long flowing hair. Her lips are a nice color of pink, although they are thin. She has grey eyes and healthy, smooth skin. She stands at 5'8 and weighs about 120lbs. You will find Avery wearing a lot of tank tops, jeans, and all around casual clothes. She has a few piercings here and there, one on her belly button that she always wears, and another on her nose which she prefers to keep out. If you manage to sneak a peek at her body, you'll see a tattoo on her ribs, saying 'Be the one to guide me, but never hold me down.' ~°~°~ Human, Werewolf, Or Hunter? Avery is an average human being, with little to lose. ~°~°~ What Is Your Life Like? Avery lives a simple life that no one else would trade for. Though she was given away and treated roughly, she has always managed to smile through her pain and has tried to be a social person. ~°~°~ History Avery was born to two rough parents. Her mom would tell her almost every day how she was a mistake, and her father would ignore her all together. She grew up in solitude, never really getting attached to anyone around her, which proved to be a good thing later in life. At the age of sixteen, Avery's parents put her up for adoption, in a small orphanage that was full of younger children. Since Avery was so old compared to the others, she never managed to get adopted, and at the age of eighteen she was kicked out of the orphanage with little money and no place to go. In the span of two years, she managed to stand on her own two feet, with a small job as a waitress and a rented apartment she called 'home'. She never tried to settle down with anyone, always deciding that if she did, she would end up getting hurt. So she tried to stay as secluded as possible, without as many friends as she wanted. Lately, Avery has been paying more attention to the conversations going on in the restaurant, because more people have been coming in for a warm place to stay. She's snuck past tables, hearing whispers from men and women about "Dangers in the night," and "dog attacks." Avery has always been rather curious about these sorts of conversations, and she finds herself thinking about them late at night. It was interesting how people would talk in hushed tones, and then when she came to take their orders they would be all loud and awkward. She was starting to piece little bits of information together, but she didn't want to seem crazy, and never talked about it with the few friends she had. Relationships Fayth: Avery works at the same restaurant as Fayth Morrow, and is kind of concerned about her clumsy attitude. They pull night shifts together, and yet they never hang out exclusively. Werewolves in general: Avery works at the bar where all the wolves gather, and She has noticed that before every full moon, the same group comes down to the bar.</s> <\|message\|>Stíofán ó Faoláin (English: Stephen Whelan) Stíofán ó Faoláin It was the last night before the full moon, and Stephen walked down the stairs of the block of flats that all of the werewolves lived in, and strolled down the road. It was beginning to get dark, and soon there would be a slight chill in the air. This is normal for Greyville, however, and Stephen liked this. It reminded him of home, back in Ireland. He continued down the road until he got to the pub, the last one in Greyville in fact, The Backhouse. All of the werewolves liked to go here on the last night before the full moon. They wouldn't be able to have much to drink tomorrow night, so they drank tonight to make up for it. Stephen walked into the pub, and looked around. He was the first of the werewolves there, as per usual. The rest of them had family to say goodbye to, or some work to do, or something like that. Stephen didn't have any of this. He didn't have a wife or children to say goodbye to, and legally, he wasn't a US citizen, so he couldn't get a job. He didn't want to risk applying for a work visa and being deported because he was here illegally. There was no police station in Greyville, and the police who were supposed to patrol the town rarely came, anyway. Stephen found a relatively dark area of the pub, he didn't really feel like speaking to anyone, and sat down. He'd wait for a few more werewolves to come in before he ordered a drink, and perhaps he'd get drunk enough to feel like striking up a conversation with someone.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir ~Anton~ Anton looked up at the moon - it was almost full. Pulling on her jacket, she edged into the darkness beyond her apartment door. She could hear other people (probably werewolves) saying goodbye to family and friends, and sighed. As she walked down the stairs a few fellow werewolves gave her dirty looks; she gave them straight back. She felt like getting drunk. Too drunk. The drink would drown all her sorrows, like being demoted, her friend loss, everything. Besides, the more she drank, the less discomfort she would feel tomorrow. As Anton walked into the cool night air, she could (with her developed senses) smell someone lurking in the shadows. She pretended not to notice them, then turned around and pounced. Her face connected with the pavement. 'Ah.' she thought, when her eyes met with a squirrel. Maybe she was losing her touch. Heading towards the bar, she could swear she smelled an unpleasant human scent. Anton walked in the bar. "Gimme a round o' Fireside Flamers - mostly wine, yeah?" she ordered at the barmaid. She could see a fellow beta wolf, Stephen, lurking in a corner. She gave him a small salute and, grinning, yelled behind her, "And an extra strong vodka!"</s> <\|message\|>Ryan Jameson "What time do you think you're going to be back tonight?" Goddammit, Ryan knew he was going to ask that question. And the worst part was, he heard the change in Michael's voice on the other side of the phone when he asked it. The upbeat chattery voice he'd had a moment ago when discussing his latest art project at the Community College was gone. Ryan could see him now, his face tinged with paint, tanned skin smudged with red and white and blue, pacing in front of a canvas barefoot and shirtless while he stood on a white sheet in their loft. Now Michael sounded like he was treading eggshells. Or broken glass. Ryan had to take a very loud pull on his cigarette to buy himself a moment to think. The Monthly Pack meetings were a necessity. Not just because of his status as a Beta, but it was a condition for his moving in with Michael. Bad enough he felt like he'd abandoned one family to start another, but Michael was definitely suspicious about the "fishing trips" he went on every month. "I, ah, won't be back until morning," Ryan said cautiously. "Group meeting, you know? We're going down to the river to catch trout." Silence. "Right," Michael said. "Trout." "Or whatever we can catch. Fish is fish." Please don't get pissed. Please don't get pissed! "Whatever. Call me when you get back. I'll probly be over in Portside getting my gallery showing set up." Click. 'I'll be there for the gallery!' was on the tip of Ryan's tongue when Michael hung up. But that was that. Ryan shut his phone down, tossed the cigarette against the back wall of the building, and shuffled back inside through the kitchen. He wanted to hit someone. Something. He couldn't help feeling pissed at Michael for not giving him one night a month to be himself. At the same time, he was completely pissed at himself for not telling Michael the truth. It wasn't a guarantee that Michael would run for the hills screaming if he knew Ryan was one level above an "extreme closet Furry" as he'd once put it. But it WAS a guarantee that he'd be forced into their club if he found out what Ryan moonlighted as. There was no dancing around that fine line. So Ryan kept lying to Michael about fishing trips, despite never buying a pole or tackle ever ("The club has extras, so why spend the money?") and always bringing home stuff from the Market ("No bights last night, babe. But I'll make you dinner!") The whole reason Ryan kept lying to Michael was to give himself a taste of the real world. What his life might have been like if Topeka hadn't happened. He was getting the full package of human relationships now- especially the "lying to one's spouse about some deep dark secret" thing. At the bar, Michael spotted Stephen hiding in the corner and instinctively poured him a cold PBR, sliding it to one of the servers to send his way. When Anton showed up and asked for her Fireside Flamers, Ryan had to roll his eyes. He popped open a bottle of California red, then opened an underside fridge where he kept "the good stuff" chilled. The bottle of vodka he pulled out was on special order for Anton A.) because it was $70 a bottle and B.) because she was the only person in this state crazy enough to drink it. All the other vodkas he kept were way too weak in her opinion, and she'd let Ryan know. "Anton, you know this stuff is practically jet fuel, yeah?"</s> <\|message\|>Carlson Jakes Carlson The night was young, and so were most of the betas. That was sort of a reminder to Carlson as he slipped on his jacket to head to the bar. He had to make sure no one got too drunk to where they started something- he couldn't afford to pay the bar's owner again. A lot of his Omega's decide to rest these days, but there was bound to be a few at the bar to assist him. He slinked in, and sat at the bar, just ordering a lager. He would not get drunk tonight, so this would be all he'd get. He prayed he wouldn't be breaking up any fights tonight. Looking over at the barrister, who he'd told Stiofan to scope out as a potential new member- perhaps they'd even train together as Omegas if Carlson could get things going his way. Nanix Tonight was going to be busy as hell. It always is, once a month. The day varies but its almost always before the full moon. Why? Nanix had no idea, but any excuse to see and chat with the irish guy who always came in was good enough for her. She cleaned a few glasses before people started coming in, and wiped down the bar as patron's sat. She served swiftly- not having to make anything frilly helped, and she tried not to visibly perk up when Stiofan entered. She waited for him to get situated before taking a breath and walking over to him. "Hey there, what cna I get you?"</s>	<\|message\|>Avery Avery walked slowly down to the bar, looking at unfamiliar faces on the way there. Tonight was usually the bar's biggest rush. A group always came in, the day before the full moon. They were such frequents, Avery had marked each of these days on the bar's calendar as RUSH. She walked into the bar from the back, heading through the area where bottles and ingredients were stored. She picked a few bottles out of the fray, knowing some of the favorites their frequents had, and with a small bounty in her hands, she headed into the front room. She saw Ryan, and smiled weakly at him. "Ryan, is the special up on the chalkboard yet?" Her voice was frail and polite, her eyes looked like they had been fully bloodshot just moments ago. She set the bottles under the bar, and fingered each one, counting them. Then, on the far corner of the bar, Avery found her apron. She tied it around her waist, and checked each pocket to make sure she had her tools. Then she walked through the small side door labeled employees only, and went out to take guests orders. Like any waitress, she worked for her tip. She talked casually to all the patrons in the bar, smiling and laughing along with them. She didn't judge people, and when they were looking glum she asked what their problems were. She did this all around the bar. Dancing between tables and the kitchen and the bar, asking for drinks, preparing meals when she had the time, and giving people the special treatment. All the while she had questions floating in her head, who are these people really? Why am I so nice, but I never get any friends? Why am I so lonely? Yet, she still did her job with a smile that never seemed to falter.</s>
<\|description\|>Dimitri Kozlov Age: 23 Appearance: Dimitri is a tall, muscular young man, his physique stream-lined and chiseled from years upon years of arduous training and physical exercise. His face is considered 'handsome', with a clearly defined jawline, and strong cheekbones. A minor scuffle could be seen dusting his face, a natural dirty blonde, the exact same as his hair - which is naturally cut short to his head, to avoid anyone gripping it in a fight. His eyes, however, are a dark blue, almost appearing black in different pieces of sunlight. Multiple long, pale scars on evident on his torso and back, with the most prominent one being the three deep, jagged marks scraping across his chest and down his abs. Generally wears a thick, form-fitting, dark-colored long-sleeved shirt, rugged jeans, and combat boots, along with a leather jacket thrown over it, sewn in with Kevlar. Can never be too careful, and he's pretty used to cold and hot temps. Species/Occupation: Human/Hunter Background: Dimitri was born in Moscow, Russia, underneath two war-weathered parents; Aleksandr Kozlov, and Marie Kozlov. His father was a veteran from the Spetznaz forces, while his mother was a former soldier in the Marines, having been honorably discharged after a grenade ended with her left arm being torn to shreds. How the two managed to find love in each other, Dimitri would never know; while his father was strict, gruff, cold, and incredibly ruthless in the training of Dimitri, his mother was soft, kind, and gentle, always there with warm treats and cold bottles of water. That's another thing...his training. Aleksandr Kozlov was both a Spetznaz veteran, and a former Werewolf-Hunter, having to retire from both due to old age, and PTSD. While this made the man quite brutal, it also made him force Dimitri to follow into his footsteps - and not for a bad reason, either. Werewolves - specifically, feral ones - were dangerous, this Dimitri knew from a young age. At first, up to the age of seven, he didn't know what he was training for. His father always made him do pushups, squats, and sprints down the snow-frozen road whenever he was awake and not eating/hydrating, always stopping and limiting the repetitions so that it was just under enough to not have any effect on Dimitri's physical growth. Weapons training and close quarters combat had already began, back when he was six. Pistols, assault rifles, shotguns...he was a crackshot, naturally skilled in any firearm that was brought before him. Obviously, he was kept to smaller, less destructive weaponry, as his relatively small stature - albeit big for his age - would make it incredibly difficult and inefficient to train with. Krav Maga; it's basic stances and attacks were taught to him as his 'main' chosen fighting style, although it was more along the lines of his father forcing it upon him. When he turned eight, he was brought on his first 'mock mission', which wasn't a mock mission at all. His father had tracked down a wandering, feral werewolf that preyed on cattle and smaller children that would wander away from their parents, in the park. Seeing his father rip open the werewolf's chest, and give him the silver knife...Dimitri was confused. Sorely confused. But when he saw the corpses of the children, he plunged the dagger down without hesitation. That was the start. Years passed, and Dimitri was trained with the brutality of a Demon from hell. He became an immensely capable marksman, a master of Krav Maga, and extremely competent and lethal when it came to the art of fighting with melee weapons - he began taking Werewolf Hunting missions at the age of twelve, going for the Werewolves that was blatantly harming others due to lack of mental awareness, or general insanity and love for violence. Life continued on like this, with Dimitri becoming a strong, intelligent, brave young man that did what he had to do in his forced line of work. His mother had passed away due to an illness - something that affected Dimitri greatly, and seemed to inspire his father's fiery ire even more. Finally, the man keeled over from a stress-filled cardiac arrest, on Dimitri's twentieth birthday. Ever since then, Dimitri has been travelling the globe, always on the case whenever reports of wild werewolf attacks sprung up, or whenever mysterious sightings or murders breezed the grapevine. Relationships: Thomas Young...Dimitri's partner. They met in Alaska, while Dimitri was hunting a group of feral Werewolves. It was an...interesting predicament, with Thomas managing to stop Dimitri from executing an innocent female Werewolf that had been planning on escaping her wild, out of controlled friends. Yvette was picked up, as his second partner, as they were leaving the frozen state. It snowballed from there.</s> <\|message\|>Carlson Jakes Carlson The night was young, and so were most of the betas. That was sort of a reminder to Carlson as he slipped on his jacket to head to the bar. He had to make sure no one got too drunk to where they started something- he couldn't afford to pay the bar's owner again. A lot of his Omega's decide to rest these days, but there was bound to be a few at the bar to assist him. He slinked in, and sat at the bar, just ordering a lager. He would not get drunk tonight, so this would be all he'd get. He prayed he wouldn't be breaking up any fights tonight. Looking over at the barrister, who he'd told Stiofan to scope out as a potential new member- perhaps they'd even train together as Omegas if Carlson could get things going his way. Nanix Tonight was going to be busy as hell. It always is, once a month. The day varies but its almost always before the full moon. Why? Nanix had no idea, but any excuse to see and chat with the irish guy who always came in was good enough for her. She cleaned a few glasses before people started coming in, and wiped down the bar as patron's sat. She served swiftly- not having to make anything frilly helped, and she tried not to visibly perk up when Stiofan entered. She waited for him to get situated before taking a breath and walking over to him. "Hey there, what cna I get you?"</s> <\|message\|>Avery Avery walked slowly down to the bar, looking at unfamiliar faces on the way there. Tonight was usually the bar's biggest rush. A group always came in, the day before the full moon. They were such frequents, Avery had marked each of these days on the bar's calendar as RUSH. She walked into the bar from the back, heading through the area where bottles and ingredients were stored. She picked a few bottles out of the fray, knowing some of the favorites their frequents had, and with a small bounty in her hands, she headed into the front room. She saw Ryan, and smiled weakly at him. "Ryan, is the special up on the chalkboard yet?" Her voice was frail and polite, her eyes looked like they had been fully bloodshot just moments ago. She set the bottles under the bar, and fingered each one, counting them. Then, on the far corner of the bar, Avery found her apron. She tied it around her waist, and checked each pocket to make sure she had her tools. Then she walked through the small side door labeled employees only, and went out to take guests orders. Like any waitress, she worked for her tip. She talked casually to all the patrons in the bar, smiling and laughing along with them. She didn't judge people, and when they were looking glum she asked what their problems were. She did this all around the bar. Dancing between tables and the kitchen and the bar, asking for drinks, preparing meals when she had the time, and giving people the special treatment. All the while she had questions floating in her head, who are these people really? Why am I so nice, but I never get any friends? Why am I so lonely? Yet, she still did her job with a smile that never seemed to falter.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir ~Anton~ Anton, piercing Ryan with a stony glare, yelled (clearly already drunk), "In your opinion!" She wrenched her vodka from his hands, pouring in three Fireside Flamers and the vodka in at once. She gave a high-pitch laugh, and glugged down the rest of her drinks. Licking her lips - and wiggling her eyebrows at Ryan - she ordered their strongest Vodka. But why bother? It was like the weakest thing Anton had ever had. That's why she ordered so much. She slunk out of sight from Carlson, wishing she had done this while drinking the Vodka from Ryan. As she downed the rest of the super weak Vodka, she slunk away to the girl's toilets. As Anton made her way into the toilet, she puked straight away. Bawling her eyes out, she poured the remains of the alcohol down the toilet u-bend - unluckily forgetting to flush.</s>	<\|message\|>Dimitri Kozlov He had been expecting it, honestly. The man had been expecting the anonymously scouted Werewolf cavern to be...stank, but this was a bit above what he had previously assumed. A figure stood in the dark of the forest, dark blue - or were they black, eyes narrowed as he peered into the lip of a shady, unassuming cave. On the cave's entrance, deep claw marks grazed along the rock, apparently by razor-sharp wolf nails, but this wasn't what made him pause. No...it was the pure amount of stink that came out of the cave. It smelled...like wet, furry dog, a dog that had been decomposing in the desert sun for the past few months, without disintegrating. There was also the smell of shit, piss, and blood, but the blood seemed fresh, while the other scents were stale. Stale, but still there. The figure twitched, and finally got the feeling of his nose back into place. The figure was tall, a bit taller than most Americans, with a muscular build, even obvious from under the dark clothing he wore. The clothing was tough; a form-fitting, long-sleeved black shirt, black gloves, dark, rugged jeans, and dark brown combat boots that held two straps on both sides, the long, metal hilt of two knives evident in the straps. A studded belt was wrapped around his waist, and it held numerous, compact black pouches on each loop; although, what was in the pouches, was a mystery. The man's face held the scruffy remains of a shaven beard, and his close-cutted, dark blonde hair blended in well with his surroundings. In his gloved right fist, he held a razor-sharp, jagged combat knife, the silver metal of the knife not even glinting in the moonlight, while, in his right hand, a dark black pistol was evident. His eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses, and although most would make a snarky, annoying joke about wearing sunglasses at night, these sunglasses obviously had multiple uses, the most prominent one being that it allowed him to see as clear as day, even in the night. Not to mention that it hid his eyes, allowing him to stare and focus on things/people without anyone seeing. The man gripped his combat knife tighter, while his finger edged over the trigger of his pistol. He took a glance at the motorcycle, practically invisible in the darkness, hidden nearby. Without a second thought, he silently dashed into the cave. _______________________________________ Werewolves were strong beings, but wild, unrefined...and generally unskilled. Dimitri cleanly slammed a stone-hard fore-arm against the snarling wolf's swing, his arm wrapping around the other beast's arm, while his knife-hand darted forward, the silver, razor-sharp blade easily tearing through fur and flesh to reach deep within the beast's heart. Kicking it away, the Russian Hunter watched dispassionately as the beastial wolf slowly formed back into the dead, wild form of a hairy, dirty man. This pack of wolves, hidden in the forest and mountains near Greyville, was one of the disgusting packs that preyed on innocent humans for no reason, other than their maddening lust for food, glory, and worthlessness. All around him, in one of the cave's stony areas, the bodies of gutted, stabbed, and generally dead werewolves littered the floor. Gas was slick on the stone ground, and as Dimitri began to walk away, one hand in his pocket, the Hunter flicked his cigarette - a guilty, once a month pleasure - and sped up slightly as it landed in the gas. The rev of a sleek motorcycle blasted through the mountains, as the cave collapsed in on itself, the fire having spread to take over the rocky maze.</s>
<\|description\|>Dimitri Kozlov Age: 23 Appearance: Dimitri is a tall, muscular young man, his physique stream-lined and chiseled from years upon years of arduous training and physical exercise. His face is considered 'handsome', with a clearly defined jawline, and strong cheekbones. A minor scuffle could be seen dusting his face, a natural dirty blonde, the exact same as his hair - which is naturally cut short to his head, to avoid anyone gripping it in a fight. His eyes, however, are a dark blue, almost appearing black in different pieces of sunlight. Multiple long, pale scars on evident on his torso and back, with the most prominent one being the three deep, jagged marks scraping across his chest and down his abs. Generally wears a thick, form-fitting, dark-colored long-sleeved shirt, rugged jeans, and combat boots, along with a leather jacket thrown over it, sewn in with Kevlar. Can never be too careful, and he's pretty used to cold and hot temps. Species/Occupation: Human/Hunter Background: Dimitri was born in Moscow, Russia, underneath two war-weathered parents; Aleksandr Kozlov, and Marie Kozlov. His father was a veteran from the Spetznaz forces, while his mother was a former soldier in the Marines, having been honorably discharged after a grenade ended with her left arm being torn to shreds. How the two managed to find love in each other, Dimitri would never know; while his father was strict, gruff, cold, and incredibly ruthless in the training of Dimitri, his mother was soft, kind, and gentle, always there with warm treats and cold bottles of water. That's another thing...his training. Aleksandr Kozlov was both a Spetznaz veteran, and a former Werewolf-Hunter, having to retire from both due to old age, and PTSD. While this made the man quite brutal, it also made him force Dimitri to follow into his footsteps - and not for a bad reason, either. Werewolves - specifically, feral ones - were dangerous, this Dimitri knew from a young age. At first, up to the age of seven, he didn't know what he was training for. His father always made him do pushups, squats, and sprints down the snow-frozen road whenever he was awake and not eating/hydrating, always stopping and limiting the repetitions so that it was just under enough to not have any effect on Dimitri's physical growth. Weapons training and close quarters combat had already began, back when he was six. Pistols, assault rifles, shotguns...he was a crackshot, naturally skilled in any firearm that was brought before him. Obviously, he was kept to smaller, less destructive weaponry, as his relatively small stature - albeit big for his age - would make it incredibly difficult and inefficient to train with. Krav Maga; it's basic stances and attacks were taught to him as his 'main' chosen fighting style, although it was more along the lines of his father forcing it upon him. When he turned eight, he was brought on his first 'mock mission', which wasn't a mock mission at all. His father had tracked down a wandering, feral werewolf that preyed on cattle and smaller children that would wander away from their parents, in the park. Seeing his father rip open the werewolf's chest, and give him the silver knife...Dimitri was confused. Sorely confused. But when he saw the corpses of the children, he plunged the dagger down without hesitation. That was the start. Years passed, and Dimitri was trained with the brutality of a Demon from hell. He became an immensely capable marksman, a master of Krav Maga, and extremely competent and lethal when it came to the art of fighting with melee weapons - he began taking Werewolf Hunting missions at the age of twelve, going for the Werewolves that was blatantly harming others due to lack of mental awareness, or general insanity and love for violence. Life continued on like this, with Dimitri becoming a strong, intelligent, brave young man that did what he had to do in his forced line of work. His mother had passed away due to an illness - something that affected Dimitri greatly, and seemed to inspire his father's fiery ire even more. Finally, the man keeled over from a stress-filled cardiac arrest, on Dimitri's twentieth birthday. Ever since then, Dimitri has been travelling the globe, always on the case whenever reports of wild werewolf attacks sprung up, or whenever mysterious sightings or murders breezed the grapevine. Relationships: Thomas Young...Dimitri's partner. They met in Alaska, while Dimitri was hunting a group of feral Werewolves. It was an...interesting predicament, with Thomas managing to stop Dimitri from executing an innocent female Werewolf that had been planning on escaping her wild, out of controlled friends. Yvette was picked up, as his second partner, as they were leaving the frozen state. It snowballed from there.</s> <\|message\|>Jesse Williams Where other members of the pack left their respective home or flat, giving their families the good-bye-smooch or some such nonsense, Jesse kicked her door close, leaving nothing behind but a messy, lifeless apartment. Reeking of copulation and the feral smell one would know from animal cages at the zoo. But ultimately, it was devoid of life today. It was rather usual for the fine lady Williams to kick temporary lovers out of her lair without mercy for their bodily well-being nor the accepted noise level of the block, though not today. She left on her own, in what one would call 'good' mood, wearing nothing less than brass knuckles on her right hand like shiny, sparkly jewelry. She passed a few others on the path down the stairway, gracefully ignoring their presence, uncaring wether or not they looked at her with hostility (that would be other wolves) or awe (as did the few human inhabitants of the building). She made her way out on the streets, bouncing rather than walking. It was the night before the night, and though the bar would be crowded with canines, it was a promising night for lovers of a good scuffle. About twenty minutes later, Jesse arrived at the bar. The acute observer would notice a time loss of about ten minutes, walking the distance from her apartment to the establishment, however. A fresh bundle of bank notes in her pocket as well as a few splatters of blood adorning her knuckle dusters and right arm implied the cause of her delay. Being without a steady income, the woman had to 'make' some money every now and then, and the unlucky victim of tonight was a semi-professional dealer trying to make some quick cash on her route to the pub. What the poor guy forgot to consider when picking a police-free neighbourhood was the better-than-average sense of smell a handful of people around here had, something that came incredibly handy when looking for a quick 'money dispenser'. After a quick 'chat' with the gentleman that thoroughly convinced him to avoid this area of Greyville in the future, Jesse arrived at the bar, quickly letting her blood-covered weapon disappear in the pockets of her sleeveless hoodie. She cared enough to superficially wipe the clearly visible blood on her arm away, leaving some less noticeable but still hardly secreted smears. Upon entering with an utterly amused expression - the evening started fairly entertaining after all - she sought a place at the counter, avoiding the general 'pack corner'. For her it was more fun to converse with the clueless human customers anyway, and that lessened the chances for a brawl with the other wolves too. Not that she was eager to avoid such a thing, but pretending to always looked better in the eyes of the alphas. Her choice of a seat was strategically closer to Avery than to Ryan. Unsurprisingly, she addressed the human when issuing her first order of the night. "Hey sweety, how about you pour me some vodka? Make it the good 'ol cheap stuff, alright?" Jesse wasn't the kind to ask for expensive stuff. Heck, she hardly ever had enough money on her to pay the tab after a night of drinking cheap shit. Living at the low end of low makes you numb enough to not care, though.</s> <\|message\|>Ryan Jameson Pounding the door until he heard the toilet flush was a good way to persuade Anton to actually flush her sick down. A single stall ladies room was within state regulations for a place this size, but only just. So when Anton opened up for Ryan, he was swinging so fast that he fell forward, spinning on his heel just in time to catch himself before clipping his face on the porcelain sink. "Christ Anton, you blew through that stuff, puke it down, then want more? If you weren't... well, you, then I'd say you're looking at killing your liver." Ryan knew for a fact, however, that there was no more of the 'Jet Fuel' behind the bar to be had. He'd have to go to the cooler for more. "Avery? Can you take over for me while I get more J-F for Anton? Thanks lovely!"</s> <\|message\|>Avery Avery wrote the special on the chalkboard after she went through her rounds, and as she did, she considered Ryan's questions. He had left before she could answer him, but she was glad for that. She didn't really have a relationship, but she wondered what would happen if she did. She knew how she would treat her boyfriend if she had one, and so she used her own advice to help Ryan. She didn't see him at the bar though. Strange, Avery thought. That was until she daw Ryan. He stood at the girls bathroom door, trying to communicate with someone on the inside. She sighed, and went into the back to prepare a hot herbal tea. Before she could though, she saw a blonde drawing all the attention, and smiled lightly. It was Fayth, and though Avery didn't know exactly how that girl made it in the world, she was kind of happy to see her. Fayth was always bright and bubbly. She heard Fayth call for her usual, and nodded. "Got it Fayth! It'll be there in a second." Then she heard another woman, and turned towards the voice with a curt nod. "On it." She rushed towards the bar, and looked under the counter for the vodka. She pulled out one of the cheaper brands, with a strong smell and a light kick. She poured it straight into a glass and sent it the lady's way. She took a chilled martini glass out of the freezer behind the bar, and grabbed the shaker on the way. She poured in some ice, some sour apple schnapps, vodka, and a sweet and sour mix. The whole concoction was very fruity, and it seemed like the perfect drink for Fayth. The mixture was soon shaken to perfection, and Avery poured it into the glass. She added a small black straw and two small cherries struck through with a plastic sword to mix, and started to bring it to the Fayth. "Fayth! Nice to see you!" Avery said, setting down the appletini and smiling brightly. "What are you doing out around here? I thought it was your day off!"</s>	<\|message\|>Dimitri Kozlov The forceful wind pushed back against his hair and face, sending the short, dirty blonde locks backwards, but his sunglasses kept the wind from affecting his vision, allowing Dimitri to see ahead of him without any problems. His face was taut into a tight smirk, the wind nearly searing his skin with pure heat, but Dimitri's tough skin was used to biting, sharp cold, and extremely hot, sweaty climates, so this wasn't bad. Going 201 mph on his Suzuki Hayabusa, Dimitri loved this sort of adrenaline....everything moved by in a blur as he blazed a sparking, fiery trail down the mountain's long road, body spring-loaded and tense as he smoothly, sharply made a turn that sent him drifting on the curve, the back of his tire nearly touching the safety-gate that, if it hadn't been there, would probably have sent him flying off the mountain, into the forest below. Only the pure agilty and speed of his quick turning and his whip-smart brain allowed him to make the drift, and as the headlights of a nearby truck began shining in his direction, Dimitri steadily dropped his speed to a lower, but still dangerously fast, 94mph. The sound of his phone vibrating forced the hunter to lower his speed even more. At this point, Greyville was evident in the distance, and soon enough, he'd be on a high-population street, so he wouldn't even be able to go full speed. Keeping one hand on the gas and steering wheel, he opened up the text, reading it quickly. A smirk formed on his face. Yvette...a bar, hm? Probably the one that often times had an annoying lady that screamed and drank a lot of vodka, along with what seemed like the same group of people each, and every time. He had a nagging suspicion that something was going on there, but for now, it was more like a group of friends, than something more sinister. Putting his motorcycle back into gear, Dimitri gassed the engine. __________________ The tall man entered the bar, his dark, dirty blonde hair still rather wind-swept. Through the window, one could see the sleek, powerful black motorcycle that he had just parked outside, chained to the ground, and with small, unnoticeable silver spikes sticking out of the seat. The man glanced around once, gloved hands resting in the pockets of his leather jacket, before he caught sight of Yvette. Sitting down beside the other Hunter, Dimitri glanced up at a waitress, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. "A glass of water." He spoke up. His voice was deep, and rather accented with a noticeably Russian accent. He took off his sunglasses, exposing dark blue eyes, before pressing his gloved fingers against his temple. "A bar, girly?" The question was directed towards the smaller figure sitting beside him.</s>
<\|description\|>Dimitri Kozlov Age: 23 Appearance: Dimitri is a tall, muscular young man, his physique stream-lined and chiseled from years upon years of arduous training and physical exercise. His face is considered 'handsome', with a clearly defined jawline, and strong cheekbones. A minor scuffle could be seen dusting his face, a natural dirty blonde, the exact same as his hair - which is naturally cut short to his head, to avoid anyone gripping it in a fight. His eyes, however, are a dark blue, almost appearing black in different pieces of sunlight. Multiple long, pale scars on evident on his torso and back, with the most prominent one being the three deep, jagged marks scraping across his chest and down his abs. Generally wears a thick, form-fitting, dark-colored long-sleeved shirt, rugged jeans, and combat boots, along with a leather jacket thrown over it, sewn in with Kevlar. Can never be too careful, and he's pretty used to cold and hot temps. Species/Occupation: Human/Hunter Background: Dimitri was born in Moscow, Russia, underneath two war-weathered parents; Aleksandr Kozlov, and Marie Kozlov. His father was a veteran from the Spetznaz forces, while his mother was a former soldier in the Marines, having been honorably discharged after a grenade ended with her left arm being torn to shreds. How the two managed to find love in each other, Dimitri would never know; while his father was strict, gruff, cold, and incredibly ruthless in the training of Dimitri, his mother was soft, kind, and gentle, always there with warm treats and cold bottles of water. That's another thing...his training. Aleksandr Kozlov was both a Spetznaz veteran, and a former Werewolf-Hunter, having to retire from both due to old age, and PTSD. While this made the man quite brutal, it also made him force Dimitri to follow into his footsteps - and not for a bad reason, either. Werewolves - specifically, feral ones - were dangerous, this Dimitri knew from a young age. At first, up to the age of seven, he didn't know what he was training for. His father always made him do pushups, squats, and sprints down the snow-frozen road whenever he was awake and not eating/hydrating, always stopping and limiting the repetitions so that it was just under enough to not have any effect on Dimitri's physical growth. Weapons training and close quarters combat had already began, back when he was six. Pistols, assault rifles, shotguns...he was a crackshot, naturally skilled in any firearm that was brought before him. Obviously, he was kept to smaller, less destructive weaponry, as his relatively small stature - albeit big for his age - would make it incredibly difficult and inefficient to train with. Krav Maga; it's basic stances and attacks were taught to him as his 'main' chosen fighting style, although it was more along the lines of his father forcing it upon him. When he turned eight, he was brought on his first 'mock mission', which wasn't a mock mission at all. His father had tracked down a wandering, feral werewolf that preyed on cattle and smaller children that would wander away from their parents, in the park. Seeing his father rip open the werewolf's chest, and give him the silver knife...Dimitri was confused. Sorely confused. But when he saw the corpses of the children, he plunged the dagger down without hesitation. That was the start. Years passed, and Dimitri was trained with the brutality of a Demon from hell. He became an immensely capable marksman, a master of Krav Maga, and extremely competent and lethal when it came to the art of fighting with melee weapons - he began taking Werewolf Hunting missions at the age of twelve, going for the Werewolves that was blatantly harming others due to lack of mental awareness, or general insanity and love for violence. Life continued on like this, with Dimitri becoming a strong, intelligent, brave young man that did what he had to do in his forced line of work. His mother had passed away due to an illness - something that affected Dimitri greatly, and seemed to inspire his father's fiery ire even more. Finally, the man keeled over from a stress-filled cardiac arrest, on Dimitri's twentieth birthday. Ever since then, Dimitri has been travelling the globe, always on the case whenever reports of wild werewolf attacks sprung up, or whenever mysterious sightings or murders breezed the grapevine. Relationships: Thomas Young...Dimitri's partner. They met in Alaska, while Dimitri was hunting a group of feral Werewolves. It was an...interesting predicament, with Thomas managing to stop Dimitri from executing an innocent female Werewolf that had been planning on escaping her wild, out of controlled friends. Yvette was picked up, as his second partner, as they were leaving the frozen state. It snowballed from there.</s> <\|message\|>Thomas Young Thomas Gasping for air, Thomas had failed to execute the werewolf that he had been hunting, both of them trading blows, only for the werewolf to scamper away in the death of the night right before the killing blow. The traps he had set were faulty and didn't spring up in time, and he could only smile at this. The cool dead air of the night hit his face, taking a glance at his left arm, it was bleeding profusely, though this didn't pester him. Having a high pain tolerance is something basic for every hunter, otherwise you'd be dead from the outset. "Quick little bugger, managed to escape huh." he thought to himself. --- Eyeing a bar that he frequents in the city, Thomas liked the lively atmosphere of it, bar fights were common place too. With a grin, he entered the place with a ding, Arm still moderately bleeding, he had planned to go to the hospital to get it patched right up, but then eyed the bar and decided that, "Well, I mean the bar is closer to the hospital, a quick beer wouldn't hurt and it would probably numb the pain." he said to himself right after entering the door, walking up to a bar lady, he asked her for a quick beer, to which she nodded but became a bit wide eyed at the sight of his arm. "Ah this, well don't worry about it, the beer will numb it out. Haha" he said to her with an ear to ear smile. Walking around to find an empty location, gathering a few stares from the other patrons, he quickly found a seat. Thomas didn't notice but he was dropping bits of blood all over the place as he walked to the empty seat, afterwards he just sat there, leaned back looking at the ceiling letting the fatigue hit and simply waited for his beer to arrive.</s> <\|message\|>Carlson Jakes Carlson Seeing Anton already getting herself wasted made Carlson want to curl up on himself. She'd been doing this constantly, and he was finally fed up with it. He thought that she would mope around for a while, and then lift herself up again. But apparently that was giving her too much credit. He approached her at the bar, and put his hand down leaning slightly "You are done drinking" He said, very calmly. He wasn't about to start a scene. But he was about to stop her from drinking</s> <\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow When Jesse sat close to Fayth, only for a brief moment did Fayth drop the bubbly ditz appearance. On purpose. Not only to test Jesse and push her. But now that she knew Mori was here, it became more fun because she knew her ability to shift personalities so effortlessly could potentially put Morgana on even more edge. Fayth's cool, blue-eyed gaze wandered Jesse's body up and down. She caught the faint traces of drying blood on her. Not only that, she could smell it. And this close on the full moon, the faintest scent of blood sent a shiver shuddering down her spine. 'You're in control...' Fay would tell herself in her mind. Breathing deep. The beast is not you. As if trying to prevent a darker part of her self from coming out. Instead, Fay leaned over to Jesse and laid a gentle hand on her arm. With just a subtle whisper, she spoke. "Picking on people you think are weaker than you, again?" Fay gave her a smirk and a wink. Making sure to poke fun at her. Remembering the moment Jesse ganged up on her with another beta, and Fay aptly put her back in her place. Jesse had no tactical skill as a fighter. No proper training from Fay's eyes. Perhaps Jesse was lucky that way. Then Fay returned to the direction of the voice of Mori. Another woman who didn't seem to appreciate Fay's presence in the pack. What did she even do? Alright, maybe it was curious that Fayth had great skill as a fighter. Maybe it was strange that she could switch her personality at the drop of the hat. And as Mori pointed out, Fay definitely could disappear for some stretches. Though if Mori knew why, she might be thanking her rather than berating her for it. Fayth sighed out. Not here for a fight, the blonde just wanted a drink and to settle down. Find a bit of fun, even. "Mori, why would I like ever miss this totally fun time here? Can't you look around? There's sooo many attractive guys here to hit on. It's time to get my drank on, ya' know?" Fay really laid her valley girl speak on thick for Morgana. When Avery had returned with her drink, Fay beamed over to Mori. "Can you hold on a minute, babe? I got some 'important' things to talk about." Turning to look at Avery. "Thanks girl! You're the best. I don't know what I'd do without you. And I know it's my day off! This is such a small town with not much to do. So, what better than getting tipsy tonight am I right? Like, obviously. And look at how many hot guys are here. Mr. Muscles over there who just ordered a water. He looks promising," Fayth looked directly over at Dmitri and winked. "Hey boy!" She giggled and continued talking at one hundred miles per hour. "And then you've got…" Fay stopped for a moment. She could smell the blood all over someone. Strong and pungent. Reeking all over the bar to her. Fayth turned to see Thomas bleeding profusely from his arm. "Ewww. Gross. Shouldn't someone like, help him out or something?"</s> <\|message\|>James Matherson Stephen Whelan Stephen continued to sit in the dark corner, watching as people came in. A waitress with dark hair came over, and asked if he wanted anything. "No, thank you," he replied. He knew that Michael, a werewolf who worked at The Backhouse, would pour him his regular, a PBR. He continued to sit, breathing the air in, as people go up. After a while, a woman came in, and then a few minutes later a man came in, dark and tall. He focused in on him, and he could hear him speaking, with a Russian accent. Stephen decided that he would continue to listen in. --- James Matherson James was in home, in his small house in Greyville. He knew that there was a pack here, he just wasn't sure who was a werewolf. He was in his basement, preparing for the full moon tomorrow night. He had to be ready to kill on sight. Perhaps I could prepare with some others, he thought, and sent out a text to all of the hunters in Greyville: Hey, it's a full moon tomorrow, anyone wanna do some planning? -James</s> <\|message\|>Yvette Stowe "The women want to get all in your pants, Dimitri." Yvette had a sly smirk as she sipped her beer, sparing the woman who catcalled him a glance. She shrugged her shoulders, and soon her gaze drifted and settled onto the bleeding figure. "How casual... Wait..." She whispered. The young woman's eyes narrowed as she had realized who that bleeding man was. She nudged Dimitri and pointed over at the lad, her voicing growing to a low whisper. "It's Thomas..." Yvette didn't know why he thought that it'd be okay to nonchalantly show up at a bar to drink... But whatever he decided, it was kind of stupid. "Mkayy... Well, I'm just gonna..." She slipped out of her stool to approach Thomas. "Welp, time to see him out."</s> <\|message\|>Nanix Erka Nanix Nanix frowned a bit. He was in a mood, huh? She put on a brave face, hoping not to look disappointed "Alright then" She turned away, going to serve anyone else who was at the bar</s>	<\|message\|>Dimitri Kozlov Dimitri stared down at the cooled water, his lips pulling into a small smirk of it's own at the 'Hey boy' from the girl across the bar. However, despite this, his mind was running a mile a second, the man easily returning his gaze to the drink down in front of him. Something didn't sit right with him... Thomas must have had an accident, that much was evident, but he had only heard rumors of the wild pack miles away from Greyville, back in the mountains that he had just eradicated...so whom, and what, had the other man been hunting? A random wanderer that had gotten too feisty during the full moon light? An old werewolf that wanted one more bout before he keeled over and died? No...Thomas was too skilled for that; he wouldn't get injured by an old, waning beast. Not to mention that not a lot of people seemed surprise at the blood. Gripping the cold cup with one calloused, gloved hand, Dimitri took a long sip, leaning back at the bar and stretching his arms above his head. His leather jacket was made from a pilfered Kevlar alloy, capable enough to stop a wolf's razor-sharp fangs and claws with minimal injury...not to mention he had an old family friend that tailored his clothing and weapons, for only a small amount of funding, which was easy with the wealth his father had managed to accumulate over time. Right now, however, the jacket was making the already warm room a bit hot, so Dimitri took it off, rolling it up and resting it on the counter beside his drink. This showed the tears in his long-sleeved shirt, and a few splatters of wolf blood, but the blood had long since dried, and the scent was practically non-existant. Just to be safe, he rolled the sleeves up his forearms, revealing long, jagged scars along the skin. Dimitri threw his jacket over his shoulder, and finally decided to stand. Walking over to Thomas and Yvette, the Russian Hunter smirked slightly larger, clasping Thomas on the shoulder that held the injured arm. "Ты полный отстой." He commented, his voice's accent becoming a Hell of a lot thicker due to him using his mother tongue. Dimitri sat down beside him, slapping Thomas lightly on the cheek to make him alert. "Go to the hospital." His voice was blunt and direct.</s>
<\|description\|>Dimitri Kozlov Age: 23 Appearance: Dimitri is a tall, muscular young man, his physique stream-lined and chiseled from years upon years of arduous training and physical exercise. His face is considered 'handsome', with a clearly defined jawline, and strong cheekbones. A minor scuffle could be seen dusting his face, a natural dirty blonde, the exact same as his hair - which is naturally cut short to his head, to avoid anyone gripping it in a fight. His eyes, however, are a dark blue, almost appearing black in different pieces of sunlight. Multiple long, pale scars on evident on his torso and back, with the most prominent one being the three deep, jagged marks scraping across his chest and down his abs. Generally wears a thick, form-fitting, dark-colored long-sleeved shirt, rugged jeans, and combat boots, along with a leather jacket thrown over it, sewn in with Kevlar. Can never be too careful, and he's pretty used to cold and hot temps. Species/Occupation: Human/Hunter Background: Dimitri was born in Moscow, Russia, underneath two war-weathered parents; Aleksandr Kozlov, and Marie Kozlov. His father was a veteran from the Spetznaz forces, while his mother was a former soldier in the Marines, having been honorably discharged after a grenade ended with her left arm being torn to shreds. How the two managed to find love in each other, Dimitri would never know; while his father was strict, gruff, cold, and incredibly ruthless in the training of Dimitri, his mother was soft, kind, and gentle, always there with warm treats and cold bottles of water. That's another thing...his training. Aleksandr Kozlov was both a Spetznaz veteran, and a former Werewolf-Hunter, having to retire from both due to old age, and PTSD. While this made the man quite brutal, it also made him force Dimitri to follow into his footsteps - and not for a bad reason, either. Werewolves - specifically, feral ones - were dangerous, this Dimitri knew from a young age. At first, up to the age of seven, he didn't know what he was training for. His father always made him do pushups, squats, and sprints down the snow-frozen road whenever he was awake and not eating/hydrating, always stopping and limiting the repetitions so that it was just under enough to not have any effect on Dimitri's physical growth. Weapons training and close quarters combat had already began, back when he was six. Pistols, assault rifles, shotguns...he was a crackshot, naturally skilled in any firearm that was brought before him. Obviously, he was kept to smaller, less destructive weaponry, as his relatively small stature - albeit big for his age - would make it incredibly difficult and inefficient to train with. Krav Maga; it's basic stances and attacks were taught to him as his 'main' chosen fighting style, although it was more along the lines of his father forcing it upon him. When he turned eight, he was brought on his first 'mock mission', which wasn't a mock mission at all. His father had tracked down a wandering, feral werewolf that preyed on cattle and smaller children that would wander away from their parents, in the park. Seeing his father rip open the werewolf's chest, and give him the silver knife...Dimitri was confused. Sorely confused. But when he saw the corpses of the children, he plunged the dagger down without hesitation. That was the start. Years passed, and Dimitri was trained with the brutality of a Demon from hell. He became an immensely capable marksman, a master of Krav Maga, and extremely competent and lethal when it came to the art of fighting with melee weapons - he began taking Werewolf Hunting missions at the age of twelve, going for the Werewolves that was blatantly harming others due to lack of mental awareness, or general insanity and love for violence. Life continued on like this, with Dimitri becoming a strong, intelligent, brave young man that did what he had to do in his forced line of work. His mother had passed away due to an illness - something that affected Dimitri greatly, and seemed to inspire his father's fiery ire even more. Finally, the man keeled over from a stress-filled cardiac arrest, on Dimitri's twentieth birthday. Ever since then, Dimitri has been travelling the globe, always on the case whenever reports of wild werewolf attacks sprung up, or whenever mysterious sightings or murders breezed the grapevine. Relationships: Thomas Young...Dimitri's partner. They met in Alaska, while Dimitri was hunting a group of feral Werewolves. It was an...interesting predicament, with Thomas managing to stop Dimitri from executing an innocent female Werewolf that had been planning on escaping her wild, out of controlled friends. Yvette was picked up, as his second partner, as they were leaving the frozen state. It snowballed from there.</s> <\|message\|>Jesse Williams Everything went as expected. People poured into the bar, both familiar faces and curiously unknown ones. Anton was at full speed too. Already. While it certainly took some strong juice to get her going, it never took long. While picking up the glass of cheap booze - "Thanks a bunch, cutie!" - Jesse decided to keep an eye on her situation. Always payed off to stick to the drunks, always came with lots of opportunities. "Picking on people you think are weaker than you, again?" While she didn't exactly sweep the room, her sense of smell and hearing got her a pretty good idea about who of the pack participated in the lil' monthly get-together, but somehow she still had missed picking up on Fayth. Odd, she thought, before the full extend of the blondes little 'poking fun/insult' hit her. Causing her to grind her teeth for a brief moment, before she put up the most sickeningly sweet and obviously fake smile. "Somebody's gotta pay the tab, right?" Her retort was anything if not odd. Confusing for anyone who didn't know her, no doubt. Jesse loved to poke fun at how uncomplicated it was to simply beat some poor sod into the pavement and take their cash, when the other pack members tried to live a genuine, honest life with a secure income like normal people do. To the average person she'd just seem like a careless thug thriving in the utter absence of the public law in Greyville, but to the pack she was a special kind of pest. One that didn't bother to fit into human society and shamelessly abused her unfair advantages to her personal gain. It was a thorn in everyone's side, specifically for those who masked their true nature and worked hard for their paycheck. She never bothered to hide her mugging deeds either, and often enough described them with a certain pride, just to rub it in and annoy the others even more. For Jesse, there was nothing negative about picking on weaklings. Survival of the fittest in its up-to-date form, as she liked to argument. Despite the carefree and self-ironical answer, it gnawed on her. The whole woman gnawed on her. She had planned to get back on Fay for a while now, for the beating she received. All it took was an (un)lucky encounter at night...preferably with two other betas, if not three. She had just to work out who'd qualify for the job and how to rile them up against the omega. Not an easy feat for someone who is generally making enemies left and right. Looking after Fay for just a second, Jess noticed Mori after completely missing her arrival as well. She made a mental note to pick a place that didn't put her back towards the door next time and gave her a respectful nod during a brief moment of eye-contact. When the bleeding guy entered the bar, she barely reacted. The intense smell of large quantities of blood didn't leave her completely unphased, but she managed to behave and not show it. Letting off steam earlier helped a great deal, too. Contrary to the general awe the bleeding man seemed to inspire, she payed him an impressed whistle. From one blood-splattered person to another. The night was still young and full of opportunity, and Jess was not nearly lit enough to pick a fight with someone her own size yet, so she decided to sit tight, sip cheap vodka and eavesdrop on Fay and Mori for the time being.</s> <\|message\|>Thomas Young Thomas His beer finally arriving to it, taking a long gulp before stopping and gasping for breath, he looked around and more people were giving him glances or even worried looks. He simply shrugs it off, he did however, raise an eyebrow at how some of the patrons began getting a bit more fidgety after seeing him, well specifically, his arm. "Probably the moonshine." he thought to himself before taking a quick gulp of the beer. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a familiar figure, though could barely recognize her because of the beer or the loss of blood, eitherway, "Oh, Yvette, is that you or am I starting to see things?" he asked her outloud with a wide grin, "How's it goin?" "Ты полный отстой." he heard from a Tall Russian man, with a really thick accent, "Is that Dimitri? No way." he utters but then gets a light slap on the cheek followed by, "Go to the hospital." "Well, hello to you to Dimitri, got even bulkier last time I saw ya', how is that even humanly possible?" he asked, still maintaining that stupid grin on his face. "This little scratch, I'll get it checked out soon, lemme just finish my beer" he said to him, but leans in and whispers in a serious tone, "Did you notice? Some of em' are eyeing my arm and even getting fidgety." A grin formed on his already smiling face, "Hah, fucking with you man, course there's no Wolves in here eh?" he said finally and finished the last drop of his drink, he get's up then stretches, and he also notices the blood spots and gives a bigger tip than usual. Right before leaving, he notices Fay, waving his injured hand at her caused the blood to smear on Dimitri's back, Yvette's face and a random customers shirt, bowing a quick apology to them, he quickly ran away and says to Fay right before, "Well, uhm, sorry I'll be leaving you with the mess, there's a tip on the table." After saying that sentence, Thomas runs out of the bar, hearing what sounded like a whistle towards him before hitting the door. Right after leaving the door and losing his balance, there was a beep that came on his phone, a message, but with Thomas being out for the count, he couldn't check it.</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer Taking his sweet time to get to the bar, Kalib walked with a pop song beat in his step and in no hurry to join the others. The Californian embraced the chill of the night air, savoring its freshness and relative familiarity. "The guys should be having a blast by the time I get there." He thought to himself, ticking off the names of his fellow pack mates as he spotted some dark drippings on the sidewalk. "Or, maybe the "fun" is just getting started. I really hope this wasn't Jesse again." With a sigh he began to jog his way to the bar, hoping to god that a fight hasn't started when a man came crashing through the bar door. The scent of blood overcame Kalib. "Whoa!" He exclaimed, dodging before the bloody man fell on him. Sure he was used to seeing guys literally falling out of the bar drunk off their rockers but what the hell?! "Hey, are you okay?" He questioned, careful not to step on the stranger or get blood on himself. "Say something, dude!" For a moment he glanced into the bar window and spotted Carlson and Mori --relieved the alphas were there. His eyes quickly scanned to find Jesse at the bar and thankfully not looking like she was the one to bloody this guy at his feet. Kalib turned his attention back to the guy but ready to jump into the building for some help.</s> <\|message\|>Yvette Stowe "Whoa hey!" Yvette yelped as Thomas had attempted to walk himself. "Don't be stupi-" She was about to grab onto his shirt collar, but instead someone had caught him. "Uh..." Maybe what Thomas was rambling about was true? Her Uncle was right... And he was far from being sane. She immediately ran to her ally's side, yanked him away from the other male and dipped her head down. "He's in my care, sorry for the trouble." She cleared her throat, gave the man a long stare, and shook her head. "Uh, fuck. I need a med kit, because there's no way he's going to survive a ride to the hospital like this. Do me a favor, go inside and start screaming or something." Yvette propped him up at the wall and removed her jacket so that she'd be able to tear a part of her shirt to at least delay the bleeding slightly while whoever had so decided to help would actually do something. The phone in her back jeans pocket buzzed, making her raise a brow and check real quick before scoffing and setting it to the side so that she would be able to focus on her injured ally. "God damn... You really fucked yourself over." She murmured, shaking her head lightly as she wrapped the torn piece of cloth over his wound. "Please hurry up with the kit?"</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer Kalib let the woman take her bleeding friend from him and nodded. "Right," and headed inside. He recognized the black-haired bartender and ran to her. "Hey, call an ambulance. Some guy just fell outside and he's covered in blood! His friend it out there with him but he really needs to get to the hospital, and fast." Keeping his voice calm, he tried not to make anyone panic. He told himself in his head that the guy will be okay so long as 911 comes.</s>	<\|message\|>Dimitri Kozlov Dimitri scowled once he saw the guy ask for the ambulance, rather than getting a medkit, as asked. Maintaining his temper; which he was rather easy at, the Russian got up from where he was leaning on the wall, nearby, moving towards the bar's counter. Easily sliding over, he quickly located the red and white medkit, underneath the counter's tabletop. Grabbing it, Dimitri slid back over the counter, long legs quickly striding him over to where his two accomplices were leaning against the building, outside. His sunglasses were back on, hiding his eyes, but it also allowed him to see easily, despite the darkness from the nightsky. Crouching down, Dimitri handed Yvette the first-aid kit, before taking a few steps back, so that he wouldn't get in her way. First-aid was definitely not his forte, and he knew that Yvette had training in it...most-likely from her delusional Uncle. "Dumbass..." He muttered underneath his voice, once again, but it was unknown on who the insult was directed towards.</s>
<\|description\|>Dimitri Kozlov Age: 23 Appearance: Dimitri is a tall, muscular young man, his physique stream-lined and chiseled from years upon years of arduous training and physical exercise. His face is considered 'handsome', with a clearly defined jawline, and strong cheekbones. A minor scuffle could be seen dusting his face, a natural dirty blonde, the exact same as his hair - which is naturally cut short to his head, to avoid anyone gripping it in a fight. His eyes, however, are a dark blue, almost appearing black in different pieces of sunlight. Multiple long, pale scars on evident on his torso and back, with the most prominent one being the three deep, jagged marks scraping across his chest and down his abs. Generally wears a thick, form-fitting, dark-colored long-sleeved shirt, rugged jeans, and combat boots, along with a leather jacket thrown over it, sewn in with Kevlar. Can never be too careful, and he's pretty used to cold and hot temps. Species/Occupation: Human/Hunter Background: Dimitri was born in Moscow, Russia, underneath two war-weathered parents; Aleksandr Kozlov, and Marie Kozlov. His father was a veteran from the Spetznaz forces, while his mother was a former soldier in the Marines, having been honorably discharged after a grenade ended with her left arm being torn to shreds. How the two managed to find love in each other, Dimitri would never know; while his father was strict, gruff, cold, and incredibly ruthless in the training of Dimitri, his mother was soft, kind, and gentle, always there with warm treats and cold bottles of water. That's another thing...his training. Aleksandr Kozlov was both a Spetznaz veteran, and a former Werewolf-Hunter, having to retire from both due to old age, and PTSD. While this made the man quite brutal, it also made him force Dimitri to follow into his footsteps - and not for a bad reason, either. Werewolves - specifically, feral ones - were dangerous, this Dimitri knew from a young age. At first, up to the age of seven, he didn't know what he was training for. His father always made him do pushups, squats, and sprints down the snow-frozen road whenever he was awake and not eating/hydrating, always stopping and limiting the repetitions so that it was just under enough to not have any effect on Dimitri's physical growth. Weapons training and close quarters combat had already began, back when he was six. Pistols, assault rifles, shotguns...he was a crackshot, naturally skilled in any firearm that was brought before him. Obviously, he was kept to smaller, less destructive weaponry, as his relatively small stature - albeit big for his age - would make it incredibly difficult and inefficient to train with. Krav Maga; it's basic stances and attacks were taught to him as his 'main' chosen fighting style, although it was more along the lines of his father forcing it upon him. When he turned eight, he was brought on his first 'mock mission', which wasn't a mock mission at all. His father had tracked down a wandering, feral werewolf that preyed on cattle and smaller children that would wander away from their parents, in the park. Seeing his father rip open the werewolf's chest, and give him the silver knife...Dimitri was confused. Sorely confused. But when he saw the corpses of the children, he plunged the dagger down without hesitation. That was the start. Years passed, and Dimitri was trained with the brutality of a Demon from hell. He became an immensely capable marksman, a master of Krav Maga, and extremely competent and lethal when it came to the art of fighting with melee weapons - he began taking Werewolf Hunting missions at the age of twelve, going for the Werewolves that was blatantly harming others due to lack of mental awareness, or general insanity and love for violence. Life continued on like this, with Dimitri becoming a strong, intelligent, brave young man that did what he had to do in his forced line of work. His mother had passed away due to an illness - something that affected Dimitri greatly, and seemed to inspire his father's fiery ire even more. Finally, the man keeled over from a stress-filled cardiac arrest, on Dimitri's twentieth birthday. Ever since then, Dimitri has been travelling the globe, always on the case whenever reports of wild werewolf attacks sprung up, or whenever mysterious sightings or murders breezed the grapevine. Relationships: Thomas Young...Dimitri's partner. They met in Alaska, while Dimitri was hunting a group of feral Werewolves. It was an...interesting predicament, with Thomas managing to stop Dimitri from executing an innocent female Werewolf that had been planning on escaping her wild, out of controlled friends. Yvette was picked up, as his second partner, as they were leaving the frozen state. It snowballed from there.</s> <\|message\|>Thomas Young Thomas As he was lying down on his bed, the constant beeps of his heart rate became white noise to him. He was about to fall back to sleep due to the comfy bed he was lying on, this was till an immense feeling of dread filled his being. He looked around and saw a tall, figure, his very presence oozed fear, not towards him, but to others around him. His presence choked up Thomas, if there were ever alarms in your head that tells you something is dangerous, this was the time. He entered the room, then strides to a chair and quickly gets comfortable. Thomas' fight or flight kicked in and his adrenaline started to pump. "Hello, Thomas." said the tall frame with a cold and menacing tone, "You don't mind, do you?" while lighting a cigarette, with no apparent care for Thomas' consent. His Golden eyes was an oddity that perturbed Thomas, he couldn't help but feel a bit unnerved. "Those are some wounds on you. Must've been one hell of a knife fight." he said with a deep breath, glare never leaving his own, "Unless it was an animal you were hunting. A wolf maybe…" Through general conception and judging by his demeanor and cold eyes, he had already figured out this intimidating stranger was infact a werewolf. "Who are you." was the only phrase Thomas was able to choke out, practically glaring at him at this point.</s> <\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Oh, for God's sake, you don't have to pretend. I know you hunters aren't as strong. She thought while observing him struggle with opening that bottle. While he was searching for the cups, Mori listened to the sounds coming from the bar, trying to distinguish what was going on in there. Since there was no sound of screaming, yelling or breaking things, she concluded that everything was alright. With hidden disgust she took the cup Anthar had given her, and clenched her fingers around it, wondering how could she get herself out of drinking alcohol. She followed Anthar's example, and raised her cup high in the air, only to then lower it again, far from her lips. His particular facial expression was enough proof to her, that she made a right decision not taking a sip. If Jet Fuel did that to him, God knows what would have done to Mori. But since she couldn't just stand there with a full cup in her hands, she had to act quickly. After his question, she took a few steps forward, and landed her hand gently on his chest. She licked her lips while observing his, and then raise her gaze up to his eyes. ''Me? Oh, I just come here to lure good looking men into this room, and then tricking them into drinking that awefully strong shit of a vodka,'' she smiled temptingly, sliding her hands to the sides of his waist as she was slowly to hug him.</s> <\|message\|>Yvette Stowe "Ahem..." Yvette cleared her throat as she leaned on the doorframe, her eyes glancing back and forth between Thomas and the mysterious man. "You're no guest here... Even I know that." She said, glancing down at her nails, then back up at the man in his seat. "Should I call security and take you out?" The girl closed the door behind her and stood near Thomas' bed, her hand resting on the plastic arm. The nurse had managed to call her in on time, and thankfully before things seemingly grew dark and heated... This man... Whomever he was, he was not here to make friends, obviously. This raised suspicions... A lot in fact. "Mhm..." The young woman pulled a chair of her own and sat down with her legs crossed and on her lap. "Isn't this quaint?" She said, giving them both a small smile before frowning and leaning back. "Do I have to call security or are you able to leave yourself, sir?"</s>	<\|message\|>Dimitri Kozlov He shouldn't have gotten distracted. The dark black motorcycle passed 150mph, the banging noise elevating into a soundless roar as dust and debris blasted backwards from the pure speed. Hitting a wheelie down the dirty country-road; the same shortcut he knew Yvette took to get to the hospital, Dimitri drifted passed a small outcropping of bushes, cleanly hitting a 360 as he, at the same time, shifted gears, revved the gas, and leaned forward, eyes narrowed from beneath his black, visored helmet, the Russian hunter continuing to drive at the same high-speed. Within a few minutes, he was out of the forest, the city's hospital in sight, in the distance. Cars were milling about, and he could see a few late-night civilians looking the direction he was blasting from, fright in their eyes. Smoothly, Dimitri shifted gears once more, his motorcycle easily and instantly going back to a more normal 60mph, while Dimitri himself sat back from his leaned forward position, dodging around a few unnamed cars as he began to head directly towards the hospital. __________ The sleek motorcycle parked outside of the hospital, right beside what he could see was obviously Yvette's sportscar. Standing, Dimitri sat his helmet down onto the bike's handlebars, before unzipping his jacket and cracking his neck abruptly to the side. The ride was sort of bumpy back in that forest, but regardless, it was necessary to get here in time; in time for what? He didn't really know. In time for Yvette not to bitch about him being late, probably. Feeling on the edge for some reason, Dimitri glanced around onceHe walked into the hospital, sharp eyes casually taking in the occupants of the waiting room. There weren't much people there, since it was really late, but he noted what seemed to be an injured man sitting down, with wounds on his person, along with the nurse at the front desk glancing around with an obviously confused face. "Is there a problem?" He asked, his heavily tinted Russian accent deeper due to his distinct lack of caring very much right now. The nurse looked up. "Oh, yes. A tall man came in and asked about a patient, and then, when I came back, he was gone." She said, glancing around once more, before focusing her attention on Dimitri. "Anything you need, young man?" Dimitri's eyes were slightly narrowed now, but from his sunglasses, you couldn't see. "No, mam. I'm here to see Nick Jackson." A random name...but he felt something was wrong...something was very wrong. It was the sixth sense from being a hunter for more than a decade. He had began to distinct their scent slightly from other humans, and there was definitely the slight dog-like scent pilfering through the air. He wasn't superhuman, and so he couldn't exactly feel directly from where it was going, but the talk of that man surprised him. He needed to go check on Thomas. "Oh...he's in Room 132!" So, Jackson was an actual guy admitted here? Interesting. Dimitri gave the woman a nod, casually turning and beginning to walk up the stairs. Room 135 was Thomas' room number; at least, Yvette had texted him that while he was on the way here. As he got closer to Thomas' room, the feeling of deja vu began to grow steadily and steadily, until he was close enough to hear Yvette's voice, and another man's. Dimitri's scent was practically non-existant, from a specific poultice his father taught him to create, to combat a werewolf's nose, and his footsteps were as silent as a sneaking Navy SEAL. "Do I have to call security or are you able to leave yourself, sir?" There had to be a werewolf in there. He wasn't going to take any chance. Reaching behind his waist, underneath his leather jacket, Dimitri's calloused hands wrapped around what seemed to be the handle of a sawed-off shotgun, the rather stubby, powerful gun easily hidden within it's dark black holster. Pulling it out into his left hand, Dimitri took a long, silver bladed knife from his other holster, quickly glancing down the hallway for witnesses. There weren't any. A heartbeat pause, and then, he swiftly and silently pressed a knee into the doorknob, the sharp and quiet strike breaking the inner mechanism of the lock, and easily letting him inside without the usage of his hand. Quietly, he swung into the room, the sawed-off shotgun pointed right at the tall man's head, while his knife was gripped in a white-knuckled fist, Dimitri's eyes glaring as he stared down at the sitting man. "..." He said nothing, waiting for the man to answer Yvette's question. If he would leave, then Dimitri would let him...for now. He only killed werewolves that needed death. But if he didn't leave....then he would die. Dimitri wasn't stupid enough to think that there was no way for him to die himself, but that was why he had busted the door's lock and handle, rather than open it calmly. He could easily escape and reassess the situation, along with dropping his weapons and grabbing Thomas. This wasn't his first rodeo.</s>
<\|description\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Age: 23 Appearance: Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega?: Omega Background: Within the dark whirlwind of fangs and blood, the pup becomes a wolf. Those are the words of her father and the code of her pack; the code that served to create the trial of fire by which Fayth became tested and hardened. The vast, endless freedom of the Alaskan tundra imprinted its memory on her paws. Never-ending winter nights of all-consuming darkness still claw at her soul. Togetherness is survival, division is death. Year after year, the unforgiving words and beliefs of her father were branded into her mind and body by the brutal icy blades of wintry wind. Once coexisting with humans, the Bloodmoon pack was massacred and dispersed all across Alaska. Once the most peaceful, free, and united wolf tribes on earth was now broken and scattered. Fayth's father watched his parents die by the hands of hunters and the light of his heart became consumed with darkness. The old ways died, the time of blood had risen. Her father, rarely spoken of by name in werewolf lore, took on the mantle of "The Black." With fur black as the dark night blanket across calm waters he struck from the shadows with pearl fangs that spattered the snow-white tundra with rivers of crimson. The Black had no hesitation for the weak, cutting down even those of werewolf blood. He turned those who had the most motivation to kill. A pack unified through the bond of battle. Within time, he formed a pack that could move place to place all over the vast state of Alaska without ever being found by hunters. The hunters that did catch up were never to be seen again, or were posted in places where mankind could see the bloody message. The Black became more ruthless and cold as he went. He created combat trials where only the strongest of the wolf kind survived and earned the title of 'wolf' within the pack. Each and every member of his tribe has fierce fighting ability and a strong will to survive. None are afraid to kill. None have any love for humans. His ways blinded those around him because with years of survival they soon believed his code was the only one that worked in the new world. Perhaps he could bring werewolves back from the brink of destruction and turn the hunters into the hunted. Only one refused to live by the creed of fangs and blood. Only one would not be bound by vicious brutality on the road of destruction. Fayth Catelaya Nightshade. That is her name. Well, she preferred the last name of Nightshade as it was her mothers before she became a Frost just like her father. Any action to get further from him, the better. Life was peaceful as a little girl, but as the hunters became more ruthless everything turned upside down. Her mother was killed, and her father was no longer a man of warmth. He pushed her and tested her. As the oldest child she took the brunt of his rage. Oftentimes he wouldn't be able to look at her due to how similar she came to look like her mother. Trained in hunting, scouting and fighting; Fayth was set to be the Omega of her pack. The Black long decided there should be only one Omega. He believed in the idea of the strongest survives. There should be no weakness anywhere. On her rise she took all the scars one would expect. Her back is littered with the marks of her father's claws and his fangs. One scar next to her left eye stains her face with the reminder of pain every time she looks in the mirror. Longing for the freedom of running across the Alaskan tundra and the warmth of better days, Fayth had had enough. She betrayed the pack, breaking the permanent blood oath of never leaving the tribe. Before her eighteenth birthday, the day she would be permanently branded with the mark of the Bloodmoon pack, she disappeared. Her father looked for her. Sending scouts and her brother Marcus. Fayth didn't get away without harm. The scar next to her eye is one she will remember forever. She managed to get to the mainland United States and moved from one state to the next. Avoiding hunters and scouts of her father. It used to be every few months she had to move. But after having reached California and the town of Greyville, Fayth hasn't been touched for a few years. She enjoyed the times of her wild, on-the-run lifestyle on her own. The thrill of freedom, independence and being on her own became something she preferred. Settling with humans who fancied her, or other wolves was not an option. Attachment was dangerous because the looming threat of The Black always shadowed her everywhere she went. At this time she had called herself Fayth Morrow. Her striking raven black hair has been dyed a dirty blonde to look like it is her natural hair color. She changes her personality wherever she goes. In Greyville, she has played the act of a wannabe actress. Pretending to be less intelligent than she actually is. Though, one look at her deceitful sapphire eyes hints to a deep reservoir of hidden truth. Living a solitary life once more, she soon found her rootless living was unsustainable. Evading hunters, she found herself in this small town. Crossing the paths of other wolves, Fayth found herself in a fight. She held her ground despite a two to one disadvantage, and also had her first run in with Carlson Jakes. Fayth agreed to become a part of his pack as an Omega. Once more she lives in a pack, and this time under a leader who is sharp and resourceful without having to resort to violence. Though, Fayth remains as that mysterious woman sitting at the end of the bar. Looking at the world through the faint lens of smoke that rises from her worst habit. That and the mind-numbing venom she drinks down from the bottle every weekend, and even weeknights. She runs often, uses the peace of the creek to read books, and has fun at the local pub at night. Fierce, intelligent, manipulative, independent, and fiery. The woman of many faces. Who she has met, how it happened: Avery Upon arriving in Greyville, Fayth got a job as a waitress. She played the card of a blonde wannabe actress with a ditzy personality. At the restaurant, she works with Avery who she felt was a bit too curious about certain conversations regarding "dog attacks." And, she also works part time at the same pub all the wolves go at. Working with Avery yet again as a bartender on some nights/days. Carlson Carlson Jakes convinced her to join the pack after she battled with two of the betas within the clan. Mori If there's one member of the Greyville pack that Fayth needs to be careful around, it's Morgana. Fierce and intelligent. A cunning much like her own. While Fayth has somewhat eased into the ranks of the clan and become an Omega, Mori has not accepted her. Fayth knows when Mori's eyes are on her. There can be no missteps. She has to keep the mask on or risk her life. Ryan A wolf much like herself. Defiant, and in search of some sort of normalcy. However, while she feels closer to him than most others; she still doesn't like his reckless behavior. The pack's safety; and most importantly, her own life, are on the line.</s> <\|message\|>Dimitri Kozlov He had been expecting it, honestly. The man had been expecting the anonymously scouted Werewolf cavern to be...stank, but this was a bit above what he had previously assumed. A figure stood in the dark of the forest, dark blue - or were they black, eyes narrowed as he peered into the lip of a shady, unassuming cave. On the cave's entrance, deep claw marks grazed along the rock, apparently by razor-sharp wolf nails, but this wasn't what made him pause. No...it was the pure amount of stink that came out of the cave. It smelled...like wet, furry dog, a dog that had been decomposing in the desert sun for the past few months, without disintegrating. There was also the smell of shit, piss, and blood, but the blood seemed fresh, while the other scents were stale. Stale, but still there. The figure twitched, and finally got the feeling of his nose back into place. The figure was tall, a bit taller than most Americans, with a muscular build, even obvious from under the dark clothing he wore. The clothing was tough; a form-fitting, long-sleeved black shirt, black gloves, dark, rugged jeans, and dark brown combat boots that held two straps on both sides, the long, metal hilt of two knives evident in the straps. A studded belt was wrapped around his waist, and it held numerous, compact black pouches on each loop; although, what was in the pouches, was a mystery. The man's face held the scruffy remains of a shaven beard, and his close-cutted, dark blonde hair blended in well with his surroundings. In his gloved right fist, he held a razor-sharp, jagged combat knife, the silver metal of the knife not even glinting in the moonlight, while, in his right hand, a dark black pistol was evident. His eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses, and although most would make a snarky, annoying joke about wearing sunglasses at night, these sunglasses obviously had multiple uses, the most prominent one being that it allowed him to see as clear as day, even in the night. Not to mention that it hid his eyes, allowing him to stare and focus on things/people without anyone seeing. The man gripped his combat knife tighter, while his finger edged over the trigger of his pistol. He took a glance at the motorcycle, practically invisible in the darkness, hidden nearby. Without a second thought, he silently dashed into the cave. _______________________________________ Werewolves were strong beings, but wild, unrefined...and generally unskilled. Dimitri cleanly slammed a stone-hard fore-arm against the snarling wolf's swing, his arm wrapping around the other beast's arm, while his knife-hand darted forward, the silver, razor-sharp blade easily tearing through fur and flesh to reach deep within the beast's heart. Kicking it away, the Russian Hunter watched dispassionately as the beastial wolf slowly formed back into the dead, wild form of a hairy, dirty man. This pack of wolves, hidden in the forest and mountains near Greyville, was one of the disgusting packs that preyed on innocent humans for no reason, other than their maddening lust for food, glory, and worthlessness. All around him, in one of the cave's stony areas, the bodies of gutted, stabbed, and generally dead werewolves littered the floor. Gas was slick on the stone ground, and as Dimitri began to walk away, one hand in his pocket, the Hunter flicked his cigarette - a guilty, once a month pleasure - and sped up slightly as it landed in the gas. The rev of a sleek motorcycle blasted through the mountains, as the cave collapsed in on itself, the fire having spread to take over the rocky maze.</s> <\|message\|>Ryan Jameson "Special's not up yet," Ryan said to Avery, watching as Anton downed her vile concoction and demanded more. Ryan just shook his head and put the whole bottle on the counter for her. "Southern Fireballs at two-for-five tonight. Russian Reuben sandwiches for six bucks, just as bad as always." Ryan gave Avery a wide berth as she moved across the bar. It was hard enough being a waitress at a place that didn't serve alcohol. Her tips might be a little higher here, but sooner or later someone became a drunk asshole and the nights got interesting. Speaking of assholes, he pulled his phone out as it vibrated in his pocket. Heading to studio. Call tmrw? "Hey Avery, what do you buy someone when you need to say 'Sorry I've been an asshole lately?'" But Ryan didn't stick around to hear the answer to that one. Anton had already plowed through the potato-based jet fuel he'd given her and was making for the ladies room. "Oh fuckberries." Ryan slipped out from behind the bar, following in Anton's wake until she went into the ladies room. And he dared not cross that threshold. "Anton," Ryan yelled, pounding the door. "Anton, I can hear you puking in there! Flush the damn toilet this time, all right?"</s>	<\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow In the darkness of the clear sky night, Fayth held the last of a cigarette to her lips. Taking one last, long and smooth drag. The bright orange glow burned away as she tossed it to the ground. Blowing out a puff of smoke that hazed up in front of her face, drifting up into the nothingness above. She crushed the cigarette underneath her foot, grinding it against asphalt. Looking at The Backhouse as it began to fill with the familiar faces of her new pack. Fayth watched them carefully. Even those who were human. In today's world, knowing who to trust and who needed to be watched was a necessity. The only problem with that was one thing: everyone needed to be watched. As the new Omega of the tribe, her hardened gaze needed to be focused as ever. While this pack had survived and kept great numbers in the death rate, it seemed to her that they had grown too relaxed. Ryan had his stubborn, infuriating ways. His human boyfriend was becoming a problem of sorts. No one could know about their secrets otherwise everyone's life was in jeopardy. Most importantly, her own life would be in trouble. Fayth wasn't going to let anyone get in the way of her own survival. Then there was Anton and her foolish habits. Her sorrows and depression. Instead of getting on with her life, Anton had decided to drown herself in the venomous belly of the worst snake of all: alcohol. Not that Fay didn't indulge herself. She'd like to think she had herself under control when it came to drinking. Anton needed a lesson, fast. Every single one of them did. The more Fay thought about it, the more this monthly visit to the bar seemed incredibly stupid. A whole pack of werewolves in one place, conveniently on the night before the full moon. The same people. The same day. Every month. It didn't take rocket science for a hunter to figure out that something was strange about this all. Everyone was so undisciplined. It's a goddamn miracle they're all alive. Fayth sighed as it was time for her to walk into the pub. She worked part time there as a bartender, but on these nights she decided to take the night off. Be on watch for her fellow wolves. And tonight she looked every bit the part she wanted to play. Her dyed blonde hair let loose flowing down her shoulders. A pair of hooped earrings in. Black heels, and a tight black dress that revealed her long smooth legs as she strutted on into the bar. Her heels clacking the entire way as she moved on in. Fay gave a brilliant smile to those who were there. Especially the men. Showing off as she moved on up to a stool at the bar and took her seat. Placing her purse on the counter. The blonde looked around and spotted Avery immediately. "Hey gorgeous! Can you help a girl out over here? I need to get cray tonight. Tipsy! Ya' know? I'll take the usual by the way." The usual being an appletini that would probably get most men laughed at if they ordered it. She claimed to hate the taste of alcohol and just wanted that sweet drink.</s>
<\|description\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Age: 23 Appearance: Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega?: Omega Background: Within the dark whirlwind of fangs and blood, the pup becomes a wolf. Those are the words of her father and the code of her pack; the code that served to create the trial of fire by which Fayth became tested and hardened. The vast, endless freedom of the Alaskan tundra imprinted its memory on her paws. Never-ending winter nights of all-consuming darkness still claw at her soul. Togetherness is survival, division is death. Year after year, the unforgiving words and beliefs of her father were branded into her mind and body by the brutal icy blades of wintry wind. Once coexisting with humans, the Bloodmoon pack was massacred and dispersed all across Alaska. Once the most peaceful, free, and united wolf tribes on earth was now broken and scattered. Fayth's father watched his parents die by the hands of hunters and the light of his heart became consumed with darkness. The old ways died, the time of blood had risen. Her father, rarely spoken of by name in werewolf lore, took on the mantle of "The Black." With fur black as the dark night blanket across calm waters he struck from the shadows with pearl fangs that spattered the snow-white tundra with rivers of crimson. The Black had no hesitation for the weak, cutting down even those of werewolf blood. He turned those who had the most motivation to kill. A pack unified through the bond of battle. Within time, he formed a pack that could move place to place all over the vast state of Alaska without ever being found by hunters. The hunters that did catch up were never to be seen again, or were posted in places where mankind could see the bloody message. The Black became more ruthless and cold as he went. He created combat trials where only the strongest of the wolf kind survived and earned the title of 'wolf' within the pack. Each and every member of his tribe has fierce fighting ability and a strong will to survive. None are afraid to kill. None have any love for humans. His ways blinded those around him because with years of survival they soon believed his code was the only one that worked in the new world. Perhaps he could bring werewolves back from the brink of destruction and turn the hunters into the hunted. Only one refused to live by the creed of fangs and blood. Only one would not be bound by vicious brutality on the road of destruction. Fayth Catelaya Nightshade. That is her name. Well, she preferred the last name of Nightshade as it was her mothers before she became a Frost just like her father. Any action to get further from him, the better. Life was peaceful as a little girl, but as the hunters became more ruthless everything turned upside down. Her mother was killed, and her father was no longer a man of warmth. He pushed her and tested her. As the oldest child she took the brunt of his rage. Oftentimes he wouldn't be able to look at her due to how similar she came to look like her mother. Trained in hunting, scouting and fighting; Fayth was set to be the Omega of her pack. The Black long decided there should be only one Omega. He believed in the idea of the strongest survives. There should be no weakness anywhere. On her rise she took all the scars one would expect. Her back is littered with the marks of her father's claws and his fangs. One scar next to her left eye stains her face with the reminder of pain every time she looks in the mirror. Longing for the freedom of running across the Alaskan tundra and the warmth of better days, Fayth had had enough. She betrayed the pack, breaking the permanent blood oath of never leaving the tribe. Before her eighteenth birthday, the day she would be permanently branded with the mark of the Bloodmoon pack, she disappeared. Her father looked for her. Sending scouts and her brother Marcus. Fayth didn't get away without harm. The scar next to her eye is one she will remember forever. She managed to get to the mainland United States and moved from one state to the next. Avoiding hunters and scouts of her father. It used to be every few months she had to move. But after having reached California and the town of Greyville, Fayth hasn't been touched for a few years. She enjoyed the times of her wild, on-the-run lifestyle on her own. The thrill of freedom, independence and being on her own became something she preferred. Settling with humans who fancied her, or other wolves was not an option. Attachment was dangerous because the looming threat of The Black always shadowed her everywhere she went. At this time she had called herself Fayth Morrow. Her striking raven black hair has been dyed a dirty blonde to look like it is her natural hair color. She changes her personality wherever she goes. In Greyville, she has played the act of a wannabe actress. Pretending to be less intelligent than she actually is. Though, one look at her deceitful sapphire eyes hints to a deep reservoir of hidden truth. Living a solitary life once more, she soon found her rootless living was unsustainable. Evading hunters, she found herself in this small town. Crossing the paths of other wolves, Fayth found herself in a fight. She held her ground despite a two to one disadvantage, and also had her first run in with Carlson Jakes. Fayth agreed to become a part of his pack as an Omega. Once more she lives in a pack, and this time under a leader who is sharp and resourceful without having to resort to violence. Though, Fayth remains as that mysterious woman sitting at the end of the bar. Looking at the world through the faint lens of smoke that rises from her worst habit. That and the mind-numbing venom she drinks down from the bottle every weekend, and even weeknights. She runs often, uses the peace of the creek to read books, and has fun at the local pub at night. Fierce, intelligent, manipulative, independent, and fiery. The woman of many faces. Who she has met, how it happened: Avery Upon arriving in Greyville, Fayth got a job as a waitress. She played the card of a blonde wannabe actress with a ditzy personality. At the restaurant, she works with Avery who she felt was a bit too curious about certain conversations regarding "dog attacks." And, she also works part time at the same pub all the wolves go at. Working with Avery yet again as a bartender on some nights/days. Carlson Carlson Jakes convinced her to join the pack after she battled with two of the betas within the clan. Mori If there's one member of the Greyville pack that Fayth needs to be careful around, it's Morgana. Fierce and intelligent. A cunning much like her own. While Fayth has somewhat eased into the ranks of the clan and become an Omega, Mori has not accepted her. Fayth knows when Mori's eyes are on her. There can be no missteps. She has to keep the mask on or risk her life. Ryan A wolf much like herself. Defiant, and in search of some sort of normalcy. However, while she feels closer to him than most others; she still doesn't like his reckless behavior. The pack's safety; and most importantly, her own life, are on the line.</s> <\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester The moon cycle was around again, surely like a clock that never stops ticking. And with that came the Backhouse. Ughh she hated that place. It reeked of alcohol, and reminded her of her own gruesome father, whose only purpose in this world was to indulge in that distasteful liquid. She never quite understood, why the werewolves would want to get drunk on the night before the full moon, or what was even the point of it, but since it was made a ritual, a filthy tradition, she could do nothing to prevent it. Yes, she was the alpha female, but she had no saying in this kinds of matters. Actually, she thought, she didn't have that many sayings in anything. It was always Carlson, who had the last word, which was overall fine as that's how the things work in the pack, but Mori was still getting annoyed. By the drinking, by the secrecy, by Ryan growling at her everytime she mentioned his boyfriend, and by her. Of course, Fay was there. Where else could she be? Oh, actually she could be anywhere, doing anything, it's a freaking miracle that she was now exactly where she was supposed to be. God, this Moon is making me crazy, Mori thought to herself, when she noticed how edgy she'd become upon arriving at the bar. She glanced over the bar, and her family members, and despite her better judgement decide to walk over to Fay, who was sitting by the counter. ''Fay,'' she said with a cold smile on her face. ''I thought we'd be missing you tonight, here. Don't you have anywhere else important to be? Like you do, you know…usually?'' Mori smirked at her, ordering herself a glass of juice as per usual.</s> <\|message\|>Thomas Young Thomas Gasping for air, Thomas had failed to execute the werewolf that he had been hunting, both of them trading blows, only for the werewolf to scamper away in the death of the night right before the killing blow. The traps he had set were faulty and didn't spring up in time, and he could only smile at this. The cool dead air of the night hit his face, taking a glance at his left arm, it was bleeding profusely, though this didn't pester him. Having a high pain tolerance is something basic for every hunter, otherwise you'd be dead from the outset. "Quick little bugger, managed to escape huh." he thought to himself. --- Eyeing a bar that he frequents in the city, Thomas liked the lively atmosphere of it, bar fights were common place too. With a grin, he entered the place with a ding, Arm still moderately bleeding, he had planned to go to the hospital to get it patched right up, but then eyed the bar and decided that, "Well, I mean the bar is closer to the hospital, a quick beer wouldn't hurt and it would probably numb the pain." he said to himself right after entering the door, walking up to a bar lady, he asked her for a quick beer, to which she nodded but became a bit wide eyed at the sight of his arm. "Ah this, well don't worry about it, the beer will numb it out. Haha" he said to her with an ear to ear smile. Walking around to find an empty location, gathering a few stares from the other patrons, he quickly found a seat. Thomas didn't notice but he was dropping bits of blood all over the place as he walked to the empty seat, afterwards he just sat there, leaned back looking at the ceiling letting the fatigue hit and simply waited for his beer to arrive.</s> <\|message\|>Carlson Jakes Carlson Seeing Anton already getting herself wasted made Carlson want to curl up on himself. She'd been doing this constantly, and he was finally fed up with it. He thought that she would mope around for a while, and then lift herself up again. But apparently that was giving her too much credit. He approached her at the bar, and put his hand down leaning slightly "You are done drinking" He said, very calmly. He wasn't about to start a scene. But he was about to stop her from drinking</s>	<\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow When Jesse sat close to Fayth, only for a brief moment did Fayth drop the bubbly ditz appearance. On purpose. Not only to test Jesse and push her. But now that she knew Mori was here, it became more fun because she knew her ability to shift personalities so effortlessly could potentially put Morgana on even more edge. Fayth's cool, blue-eyed gaze wandered Jesse's body up and down. She caught the faint traces of drying blood on her. Not only that, she could smell it. And this close on the full moon, the faintest scent of blood sent a shiver shuddering down her spine. 'You're in control...' Fay would tell herself in her mind. Breathing deep. The beast is not you. As if trying to prevent a darker part of her self from coming out. Instead, Fay leaned over to Jesse and laid a gentle hand on her arm. With just a subtle whisper, she spoke. "Picking on people you think are weaker than you, again?" Fay gave her a smirk and a wink. Making sure to poke fun at her. Remembering the moment Jesse ganged up on her with another beta, and Fay aptly put her back in her place. Jesse had no tactical skill as a fighter. No proper training from Fay's eyes. Perhaps Jesse was lucky that way. Then Fay returned to the direction of the voice of Mori. Another woman who didn't seem to appreciate Fay's presence in the pack. What did she even do? Alright, maybe it was curious that Fayth had great skill as a fighter. Maybe it was strange that she could switch her personality at the drop of the hat. And as Mori pointed out, Fay definitely could disappear for some stretches. Though if Mori knew why, she might be thanking her rather than berating her for it. Fayth sighed out. Not here for a fight, the blonde just wanted a drink and to settle down. Find a bit of fun, even. "Mori, why would I like ever miss this totally fun time here? Can't you look around? There's sooo many attractive guys here to hit on. It's time to get my drank on, ya' know?" Fay really laid her valley girl speak on thick for Morgana. When Avery had returned with her drink, Fay beamed over to Mori. "Can you hold on a minute, babe? I got some 'important' things to talk about." Turning to look at Avery. "Thanks girl! You're the best. I don't know what I'd do without you. And I know it's my day off! This is such a small town with not much to do. So, what better than getting tipsy tonight am I right? Like, obviously. And look at how many hot guys are here. Mr. Muscles over there who just ordered a water. He looks promising," Fayth looked directly over at Dmitri and winked. "Hey boy!" She giggled and continued talking at one hundred miles per hour. "And then you've got…" Fay stopped for a moment. She could smell the blood all over someone. Strong and pungent. Reeking all over the bar to her. Fayth turned to see Thomas bleeding profusely from his arm. "Ewww. Gross. Shouldn't someone like, help him out or something?"</s>
<\|description\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Age: 23 Appearance: Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega?: Omega Background: Within the dark whirlwind of fangs and blood, the pup becomes a wolf. Those are the words of her father and the code of her pack; the code that served to create the trial of fire by which Fayth became tested and hardened. The vast, endless freedom of the Alaskan tundra imprinted its memory on her paws. Never-ending winter nights of all-consuming darkness still claw at her soul. Togetherness is survival, division is death. Year after year, the unforgiving words and beliefs of her father were branded into her mind and body by the brutal icy blades of wintry wind. Once coexisting with humans, the Bloodmoon pack was massacred and dispersed all across Alaska. Once the most peaceful, free, and united wolf tribes on earth was now broken and scattered. Fayth's father watched his parents die by the hands of hunters and the light of his heart became consumed with darkness. The old ways died, the time of blood had risen. Her father, rarely spoken of by name in werewolf lore, took on the mantle of "The Black." With fur black as the dark night blanket across calm waters he struck from the shadows with pearl fangs that spattered the snow-white tundra with rivers of crimson. The Black had no hesitation for the weak, cutting down even those of werewolf blood. He turned those who had the most motivation to kill. A pack unified through the bond of battle. Within time, he formed a pack that could move place to place all over the vast state of Alaska without ever being found by hunters. The hunters that did catch up were never to be seen again, or were posted in places where mankind could see the bloody message. The Black became more ruthless and cold as he went. He created combat trials where only the strongest of the wolf kind survived and earned the title of 'wolf' within the pack. Each and every member of his tribe has fierce fighting ability and a strong will to survive. None are afraid to kill. None have any love for humans. His ways blinded those around him because with years of survival they soon believed his code was the only one that worked in the new world. Perhaps he could bring werewolves back from the brink of destruction and turn the hunters into the hunted. Only one refused to live by the creed of fangs and blood. Only one would not be bound by vicious brutality on the road of destruction. Fayth Catelaya Nightshade. That is her name. Well, she preferred the last name of Nightshade as it was her mothers before she became a Frost just like her father. Any action to get further from him, the better. Life was peaceful as a little girl, but as the hunters became more ruthless everything turned upside down. Her mother was killed, and her father was no longer a man of warmth. He pushed her and tested her. As the oldest child she took the brunt of his rage. Oftentimes he wouldn't be able to look at her due to how similar she came to look like her mother. Trained in hunting, scouting and fighting; Fayth was set to be the Omega of her pack. The Black long decided there should be only one Omega. He believed in the idea of the strongest survives. There should be no weakness anywhere. On her rise she took all the scars one would expect. Her back is littered with the marks of her father's claws and his fangs. One scar next to her left eye stains her face with the reminder of pain every time she looks in the mirror. Longing for the freedom of running across the Alaskan tundra and the warmth of better days, Fayth had had enough. She betrayed the pack, breaking the permanent blood oath of never leaving the tribe. Before her eighteenth birthday, the day she would be permanently branded with the mark of the Bloodmoon pack, she disappeared. Her father looked for her. Sending scouts and her brother Marcus. Fayth didn't get away without harm. The scar next to her eye is one she will remember forever. She managed to get to the mainland United States and moved from one state to the next. Avoiding hunters and scouts of her father. It used to be every few months she had to move. But after having reached California and the town of Greyville, Fayth hasn't been touched for a few years. She enjoyed the times of her wild, on-the-run lifestyle on her own. The thrill of freedom, independence and being on her own became something she preferred. Settling with humans who fancied her, or other wolves was not an option. Attachment was dangerous because the looming threat of The Black always shadowed her everywhere she went. At this time she had called herself Fayth Morrow. Her striking raven black hair has been dyed a dirty blonde to look like it is her natural hair color. She changes her personality wherever she goes. In Greyville, she has played the act of a wannabe actress. Pretending to be less intelligent than she actually is. Though, one look at her deceitful sapphire eyes hints to a deep reservoir of hidden truth. Living a solitary life once more, she soon found her rootless living was unsustainable. Evading hunters, she found herself in this small town. Crossing the paths of other wolves, Fayth found herself in a fight. She held her ground despite a two to one disadvantage, and also had her first run in with Carlson Jakes. Fayth agreed to become a part of his pack as an Omega. Once more she lives in a pack, and this time under a leader who is sharp and resourceful without having to resort to violence. Though, Fayth remains as that mysterious woman sitting at the end of the bar. Looking at the world through the faint lens of smoke that rises from her worst habit. That and the mind-numbing venom she drinks down from the bottle every weekend, and even weeknights. She runs often, uses the peace of the creek to read books, and has fun at the local pub at night. Fierce, intelligent, manipulative, independent, and fiery. The woman of many faces. Who she has met, how it happened: Avery Upon arriving in Greyville, Fayth got a job as a waitress. She played the card of a blonde wannabe actress with a ditzy personality. At the restaurant, she works with Avery who she felt was a bit too curious about certain conversations regarding "dog attacks." And, she also works part time at the same pub all the wolves go at. Working with Avery yet again as a bartender on some nights/days. Carlson Carlson Jakes convinced her to join the pack after she battled with two of the betas within the clan. Mori If there's one member of the Greyville pack that Fayth needs to be careful around, it's Morgana. Fierce and intelligent. A cunning much like her own. While Fayth has somewhat eased into the ranks of the clan and become an Omega, Mori has not accepted her. Fayth knows when Mori's eyes are on her. There can be no missteps. She has to keep the mask on or risk her life. Ryan A wolf much like herself. Defiant, and in search of some sort of normalcy. However, while she feels closer to him than most others; she still doesn't like his reckless behavior. The pack's safety; and most importantly, her own life, are on the line.</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer Kalib let the woman take her bleeding friend from him and nodded. "Right," and headed inside. He recognized the black-haired bartender and ran to her. "Hey, call an ambulance. Some guy just fell outside and he's covered in blood! His friend it out there with him but he really needs to get to the hospital, and fast." Keeping his voice calm, he tried not to make anyone panic. He told himself in his head that the guy will be okay so long as 911 comes.</s> <\|message\|>Dimitri Kozlov Dimitri scowled once he saw the guy ask for the ambulance, rather than getting a medkit, as asked. Maintaining his temper; which he was rather easy at, the Russian got up from where he was leaning on the wall, nearby, moving towards the bar's counter. Easily sliding over, he quickly located the red and white medkit, underneath the counter's tabletop. Grabbing it, Dimitri slid back over the counter, long legs quickly striding him over to where his two accomplices were leaning against the building, outside. His sunglasses were back on, hiding his eyes, but it also allowed him to see easily, despite the darkness from the nightsky. Crouching down, Dimitri handed Yvette the first-aid kit, before taking a few steps back, so that he wouldn't get in her way. First-aid was definitely not his forte, and he knew that Yvette had training in it...most-likely from her delusional Uncle. "Dumbass..." He muttered underneath his voice, once again, but it was unknown on who the insult was directed towards.</s> <\|message\|>Nanix Erka Nanix watched Kalib come and tell her to call 911, then Demitiri come and take the kit. "... something tells me that guy has it" She pointed to him. "you want a drink?"</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer "Huh?" He turned, seeing the tail end of a hulking man leave with something red and white. ". . . . Oh. Er, okay. A rum and cola, please. . ." Kalib said, awkwardly seating himself at the bar. He felt like a spaz for running in like that, and a blockhead for not going for the first aid kit. Attempting not to look as embarrassed as he felt, he leaned against the counter. "How's the night going for ya? Got a lot of tips?" With the multiple times the pack has gone drinking before the full moon, Kalib had began to favor this bartender more then her co-workers and silently scolded himself for not asking her name after all this time. Seeking a peek over his shoulder, he wanted to see if anyone was staring or, at least, not noticing him. "Man, you mucked this one up real good. How will the pack expect to rely on you when you're being stupid and can't handle getting the first aid kit." Chastised his mind. It was one thing being one of the younger werewolves in the pack; its quite another being a young omega who needs to do his job.</s> <\|message\|>Avery Wind Avery listened patiently as Fayth talked and talked about the boys and getting tipsy, her lips almost never stopped moving. It could be good though, at times. Especially when things got uncomfortably silent. Then Fayth mentioned something about a gross guy who needed help, and Avery looked around, her tired eyes frantic. Yet...She saw no one. Avery turned back to Fayth and squinted. "Fayth, are you sure? I don't see anyone. Did he leave, did he look confused?" She resisted the urge to rest her hand on Fayth's forehead to check for a fever. "If you're busy right now, I'll let you get back to your friend's while I make my rounds. Uhh, ladies, do you want anything? Refills, food. Anything?" She took out her little notepad, flipping it open and bringing out a mechanical pencil, covered in scratches and stickers of rainbows. "I suggest our cosmos with a strawberry topping or a lemon twist. Its delicious!"</s>	<\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow Between talking about guys and keeping track of everyone at the bar, this was getting exhausting. 'Yes, I'm sure you idiot.' She thought. Tired of everyone giving her lip. Seemed everyone had something to say around here. God, putting up with Jesse and her bad habit of street fights, Mori's suspicions, Ryan's boyfriend. Fayth needed to let out a big sigh. Instead of sipping on that weak appletini like a ditzy blonde girl would, she straight chugged it down in one go. 'Fuck, that's gross.' Fayth cringed. A whiskey girl at heart. Her hand grabbed a hold of Jesse's arm and she made sure to look at her. Even if Jesse might not make eye contact, Fay kept a steady and intense gaze on her face. "We can pick up the tab in much better ways. Safer ways." Keeping in mind everyone around. "Like, I could give you such great pointers, girlie!" Flash the big smile for the cameras. Turn, pose. Then looking over at Mori, she pat her on the back. "I'll be back honey, I know you want to talk to me so so badly." Fayth looked up at Avery. "By the way, this sweetheart right here," indicating Mori, "She ordered her usual. Some juice. No alcohol can you believe it? It's like she's against fun or something." Fay turned to the door. Her scent picking up the blood easily. It made her hair rise and her heart race faster. The blood of animals, she could deal with. But humans? She wanted to stay clear of that path. It didn't lead anywhere. Nowhere except a place of tears and blood. On her way out, Fay yelled out over to Kalib. The other omega who in fact was doing just fine. Calling 911 was one half of the job, the first-aid kit was the second. "Get on the phone and call 911, alright? Sound good? Great." Fay nearly rolled her eyes click-clacking with her ridiculous heels on out the door. Once outside she caught sight of the tall, muscular Russian. He didn't look like someone anyone would like to pick a fight with. Not even a guy Fay would like to fight. Then again, if she could avoid every fight, she would. Not to mention, while Fay was coming out to check on Thomas' health (he was a solid drinking partner), the beep of his phone also interested her. A quick snatch of his cellphone could be nice. The item could sell for a few dollars. Good money. Two problems being Dmitri standing there, and Yvette also watching over him. Fay kneeled down with Yvette. "Do you know what you're doing? If you don't, say so right now and I can take over from here! I'm having an ambulance called because let's be real here guys, he def needs to get to the hospital." Fay paused for a second. Looking at Thomas who was bleeding out. "Gauze, anti-septic wipes, anti-biotic, use the goddamn gloves or risk infecting him, and hurry up and use that mother fucking adhesive tape. If you don't hurry up, I will!"</s>
<\|description\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Age: 23 Appearance: Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega?: Omega Background: Within the dark whirlwind of fangs and blood, the pup becomes a wolf. Those are the words of her father and the code of her pack; the code that served to create the trial of fire by which Fayth became tested and hardened. The vast, endless freedom of the Alaskan tundra imprinted its memory on her paws. Never-ending winter nights of all-consuming darkness still claw at her soul. Togetherness is survival, division is death. Year after year, the unforgiving words and beliefs of her father were branded into her mind and body by the brutal icy blades of wintry wind. Once coexisting with humans, the Bloodmoon pack was massacred and dispersed all across Alaska. Once the most peaceful, free, and united wolf tribes on earth was now broken and scattered. Fayth's father watched his parents die by the hands of hunters and the light of his heart became consumed with darkness. The old ways died, the time of blood had risen. Her father, rarely spoken of by name in werewolf lore, took on the mantle of "The Black." With fur black as the dark night blanket across calm waters he struck from the shadows with pearl fangs that spattered the snow-white tundra with rivers of crimson. The Black had no hesitation for the weak, cutting down even those of werewolf blood. He turned those who had the most motivation to kill. A pack unified through the bond of battle. Within time, he formed a pack that could move place to place all over the vast state of Alaska without ever being found by hunters. The hunters that did catch up were never to be seen again, or were posted in places where mankind could see the bloody message. The Black became more ruthless and cold as he went. He created combat trials where only the strongest of the wolf kind survived and earned the title of 'wolf' within the pack. Each and every member of his tribe has fierce fighting ability and a strong will to survive. None are afraid to kill. None have any love for humans. His ways blinded those around him because with years of survival they soon believed his code was the only one that worked in the new world. Perhaps he could bring werewolves back from the brink of destruction and turn the hunters into the hunted. Only one refused to live by the creed of fangs and blood. Only one would not be bound by vicious brutality on the road of destruction. Fayth Catelaya Nightshade. That is her name. Well, she preferred the last name of Nightshade as it was her mothers before she became a Frost just like her father. Any action to get further from him, the better. Life was peaceful as a little girl, but as the hunters became more ruthless everything turned upside down. Her mother was killed, and her father was no longer a man of warmth. He pushed her and tested her. As the oldest child she took the brunt of his rage. Oftentimes he wouldn't be able to look at her due to how similar she came to look like her mother. Trained in hunting, scouting and fighting; Fayth was set to be the Omega of her pack. The Black long decided there should be only one Omega. He believed in the idea of the strongest survives. There should be no weakness anywhere. On her rise she took all the scars one would expect. Her back is littered with the marks of her father's claws and his fangs. One scar next to her left eye stains her face with the reminder of pain every time she looks in the mirror. Longing for the freedom of running across the Alaskan tundra and the warmth of better days, Fayth had had enough. She betrayed the pack, breaking the permanent blood oath of never leaving the tribe. Before her eighteenth birthday, the day she would be permanently branded with the mark of the Bloodmoon pack, she disappeared. Her father looked for her. Sending scouts and her brother Marcus. Fayth didn't get away without harm. The scar next to her eye is one she will remember forever. She managed to get to the mainland United States and moved from one state to the next. Avoiding hunters and scouts of her father. It used to be every few months she had to move. But after having reached California and the town of Greyville, Fayth hasn't been touched for a few years. She enjoyed the times of her wild, on-the-run lifestyle on her own. The thrill of freedom, independence and being on her own became something she preferred. Settling with humans who fancied her, or other wolves was not an option. Attachment was dangerous because the looming threat of The Black always shadowed her everywhere she went. At this time she had called herself Fayth Morrow. Her striking raven black hair has been dyed a dirty blonde to look like it is her natural hair color. She changes her personality wherever she goes. In Greyville, she has played the act of a wannabe actress. Pretending to be less intelligent than she actually is. Though, one look at her deceitful sapphire eyes hints to a deep reservoir of hidden truth. Living a solitary life once more, she soon found her rootless living was unsustainable. Evading hunters, she found herself in this small town. Crossing the paths of other wolves, Fayth found herself in a fight. She held her ground despite a two to one disadvantage, and also had her first run in with Carlson Jakes. Fayth agreed to become a part of his pack as an Omega. Once more she lives in a pack, and this time under a leader who is sharp and resourceful without having to resort to violence. Though, Fayth remains as that mysterious woman sitting at the end of the bar. Looking at the world through the faint lens of smoke that rises from her worst habit. That and the mind-numbing venom she drinks down from the bottle every weekend, and even weeknights. She runs often, uses the peace of the creek to read books, and has fun at the local pub at night. Fierce, intelligent, manipulative, independent, and fiery. The woman of many faces. Who she has met, how it happened: Avery Upon arriving in Greyville, Fayth got a job as a waitress. She played the card of a blonde wannabe actress with a ditzy personality. At the restaurant, she works with Avery who she felt was a bit too curious about certain conversations regarding "dog attacks." And, she also works part time at the same pub all the wolves go at. Working with Avery yet again as a bartender on some nights/days. Carlson Carlson Jakes convinced her to join the pack after she battled with two of the betas within the clan. Mori If there's one member of the Greyville pack that Fayth needs to be careful around, it's Morgana. Fierce and intelligent. A cunning much like her own. While Fayth has somewhat eased into the ranks of the clan and become an Omega, Mori has not accepted her. Fayth knows when Mori's eyes are on her. There can be no missteps. She has to keep the mask on or risk her life. Ryan A wolf much like herself. Defiant, and in search of some sort of normalcy. However, while she feels closer to him than most others; she still doesn't like his reckless behavior. The pack's safety; and most importantly, her own life, are on the line.</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer He nodded in response to Mori's order "Right-o, boss." and left his seat to get the other omegas. Stopping himself mid-stride, he swiftly took the rum and cola with him. "No use wasting a good drink." It only took a few minutes to alert the other omegas that they were needed. As he left his empty glass on the counter (with a nice tip for the bartender, as he assumed they would be leaving soon), he noticed Fay behind the counter. "So there you are!" Relieved to see her back, he walked over to her. He lowered his voice a little. "The bosses need us, I think we're heading out now." His eyes caught a glimpse at the empty glasses in front of them, a little concerned but trying to not pay mind. "You okay there, Fay?"</s> <\|message\|>Jesse Williams Still attending her ever-watchful watch over her surroundings in general, Jess was about to get up and see what's what with Anton and Ryan, back there. They had a lot of private time. Seeing how lit Anton was when she disappeared and knowing how aggressive she got in that state, Jesse doubted they'd be making out in private, so it was probably worth investigating. But alas, something new happened right as she emptied her second glass of booze. Something exciting and amusing, too! Fay re-entered the bar, looking refreshingly furious. A nice change from the act she put up most of the time. Given it was a rather flawless act, leaving most people to believe she actually was some irrelevant blonde chick with half a brain at most. But you only needed to see her drop that act once to know it's a mask, the ferocity held back behind giggly, bouncy goldilocks was much more real. Being a rather 'natural' girl in that regards, Jesse couldn't help to smirk. Though she was a rival first and foremost, the enemy if there ever was one, she liked the fierce side of Fay. She was much easier to infuriate too. "What's up, hun? Got turned down?" Of course, Jess was oblivious to the presence of the hunters, didn't know what went down outside and had no idea the pack was about to pack up and leave. But even if she was in the picture, she'd very likely still poke fun at Fay. Upon overhearing Kalibs news, she furrowed her brow, shooting angry looks at him. "Whyssat? They playin' fun-police again? Somebody gimme another vodka, then!" The last part of that was directed at the blonde, since she conveniently had her ass placed behind the counter anyway.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir ~Anton~ Anton was rooting through the cooler cupboard and a drink had almost touched her lips when she heard Carlson's shout. She drank it anyway, discarding the bottle with a smash on the floor. Removing herself from the cooler room - shivering with the temperature change - Anton walked up to Carlson, her face red. "How come Fay ish aloud to drink and I'm not?! And Jess ish! 'Dis ish so unfair!" she nodded at Fay and Jess "I'm shure I can handled it better than them!" she spat with a slight slur. Anton picked up some of the popcorn nibbles on a nearby table and began shovelling salty popcorn into her mouth.</s> <\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Mori Mori clutched her teeth together to prevent herself from taking some heavy swings at Fay. She was being disrespectful, and Mori was getting more and more fed up with it. But it wasn't only her nasty behaviour toward her alpha female, that was a problem, it was also the goddamned secrecy that went along it. Fay knew something, and wasn't willing to share, which was quite typical of her, only looking after her selfish interests. Mori was sure of that, because of the way Fay looked at her. She didn't took Mori's warning coded in the form of her full first name. She didn't even twitch. Which could mean only that Fay already knew what was going on. Or worse, she knew even more, but ws keeping it to herself. It took all her strenght letting Fay strode away from her just like that, as she was smart enough not to start a werewolf fight in front of a guy, who might aswell be one of the hunters. Then she had do decide rather quickly, what her next move should be. Should she go after disobedient bitch of a Fay, and make an example of what happenes to those, who get on Mori's bad side, in front of a whole bar, or should she play along with the flirtatious one, and try to find out if he's a hunter aswell.She decided to do the latter, as she trusted Kaleb, the good Omega, to take care of things inside the bar. Besides, Carlson was there, too. She then closed her eyes for a second, the calm herself, and then bite her lower lip as in answer to the guy's interest. ''Oh, it's nothing. That was my sister. She is a bit...crazy right now. You see, she just found out her boyfriend was cheating on her with her best friend, and... you know,'' she said with a pleasant voice, and continued to scan this man's body. It appeared she was observing his muscular torso, when in fact she tried to spot any kind of weapon he might be wearing. ''You up for a drink?'' She then asked him with a teasing grin over her face.</s>	<\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow Carlson screaming at Anton. Anton yelling at Carlson. Fay knew Mori had something to say but didn't say it. She respected the female alpha for having some self control. Fayth nearly laughed at her own thoughts. Not that she wasn't a hypocrite to her core when it came to self control. Though, Fay at least kept her private issues private unlike others who needed to be a drunk slobbering mess all over the goddamn bar. Noise, so much noise! Fay couldn't shut it out. And of course, Jess just couldn't keep her smug mouth shut. For a sub-par fighter, Jess certainly had a lot to say. The whisky soon began its work. Coursing through her veins like a drug. A venomous snake slithering its way over every part of her body. Coiling itself over her and sinking its fangs deep into her being. The seductive venom gave her body a tingle. Quieting the rush and the bloodlust bubbling up inside of her. Near boiling with rage, settling down as the rumble of noise all around her was suddenly quiet. Fay looked up from the counter at Kalib. That lethal state planted on her face. "Kalib. I know you're new at this job. Just don't ask me stupid questions. I'm completely fine." She was unnecessarily harsh with him. But, Fayth figured certain members of this pack needed discipline. Most of them looked as though they'd gone far too long without it. An iron fist from an omega might do the trick. "Now, I need you to do me a favor. I suggest you take Anton here and escort her back home." Fay's gaze turned over to Anton. "Unless miss I need all the eyes on me who can't handle her liquor because she's a pathetic, weak little girl wants her face introduced to this counter top." Fay grabbed a white towel and wiped at the spot she bit her own hand. The white fabric being stained with blood. Now Jesse had the omega's attention. She smiled as she brought up a shot glass and grabbed the weakest vodka she could find stored in the entire bar. Pouring only half a shot. "That should be enough for you. You can't take much abuse. I've seen it."</s>
<\|description\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Age: 23 Appearance: Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega?: Omega Background: Within the dark whirlwind of fangs and blood, the pup becomes a wolf. Those are the words of her father and the code of her pack; the code that served to create the trial of fire by which Fayth became tested and hardened. The vast, endless freedom of the Alaskan tundra imprinted its memory on her paws. Never-ending winter nights of all-consuming darkness still claw at her soul. Togetherness is survival, division is death. Year after year, the unforgiving words and beliefs of her father were branded into her mind and body by the brutal icy blades of wintry wind. Once coexisting with humans, the Bloodmoon pack was massacred and dispersed all across Alaska. Once the most peaceful, free, and united wolf tribes on earth was now broken and scattered. Fayth's father watched his parents die by the hands of hunters and the light of his heart became consumed with darkness. The old ways died, the time of blood had risen. Her father, rarely spoken of by name in werewolf lore, took on the mantle of "The Black." With fur black as the dark night blanket across calm waters he struck from the shadows with pearl fangs that spattered the snow-white tundra with rivers of crimson. The Black had no hesitation for the weak, cutting down even those of werewolf blood. He turned those who had the most motivation to kill. A pack unified through the bond of battle. Within time, he formed a pack that could move place to place all over the vast state of Alaska without ever being found by hunters. The hunters that did catch up were never to be seen again, or were posted in places where mankind could see the bloody message. The Black became more ruthless and cold as he went. He created combat trials where only the strongest of the wolf kind survived and earned the title of 'wolf' within the pack. Each and every member of his tribe has fierce fighting ability and a strong will to survive. None are afraid to kill. None have any love for humans. His ways blinded those around him because with years of survival they soon believed his code was the only one that worked in the new world. Perhaps he could bring werewolves back from the brink of destruction and turn the hunters into the hunted. Only one refused to live by the creed of fangs and blood. Only one would not be bound by vicious brutality on the road of destruction. Fayth Catelaya Nightshade. That is her name. Well, she preferred the last name of Nightshade as it was her mothers before she became a Frost just like her father. Any action to get further from him, the better. Life was peaceful as a little girl, but as the hunters became more ruthless everything turned upside down. Her mother was killed, and her father was no longer a man of warmth. He pushed her and tested her. As the oldest child she took the brunt of his rage. Oftentimes he wouldn't be able to look at her due to how similar she came to look like her mother. Trained in hunting, scouting and fighting; Fayth was set to be the Omega of her pack. The Black long decided there should be only one Omega. He believed in the idea of the strongest survives. There should be no weakness anywhere. On her rise she took all the scars one would expect. Her back is littered with the marks of her father's claws and his fangs. One scar next to her left eye stains her face with the reminder of pain every time she looks in the mirror. Longing for the freedom of running across the Alaskan tundra and the warmth of better days, Fayth had had enough. She betrayed the pack, breaking the permanent blood oath of never leaving the tribe. Before her eighteenth birthday, the day she would be permanently branded with the mark of the Bloodmoon pack, she disappeared. Her father looked for her. Sending scouts and her brother Marcus. Fayth didn't get away without harm. The scar next to her eye is one she will remember forever. She managed to get to the mainland United States and moved from one state to the next. Avoiding hunters and scouts of her father. It used to be every few months she had to move. But after having reached California and the town of Greyville, Fayth hasn't been touched for a few years. She enjoyed the times of her wild, on-the-run lifestyle on her own. The thrill of freedom, independence and being on her own became something she preferred. Settling with humans who fancied her, or other wolves was not an option. Attachment was dangerous because the looming threat of The Black always shadowed her everywhere she went. At this time she had called herself Fayth Morrow. Her striking raven black hair has been dyed a dirty blonde to look like it is her natural hair color. She changes her personality wherever she goes. In Greyville, she has played the act of a wannabe actress. Pretending to be less intelligent than she actually is. Though, one look at her deceitful sapphire eyes hints to a deep reservoir of hidden truth. Living a solitary life once more, she soon found her rootless living was unsustainable. Evading hunters, she found herself in this small town. Crossing the paths of other wolves, Fayth found herself in a fight. She held her ground despite a two to one disadvantage, and also had her first run in with Carlson Jakes. Fayth agreed to become a part of his pack as an Omega. Once more she lives in a pack, and this time under a leader who is sharp and resourceful without having to resort to violence. Though, Fayth remains as that mysterious woman sitting at the end of the bar. Looking at the world through the faint lens of smoke that rises from her worst habit. That and the mind-numbing venom she drinks down from the bottle every weekend, and even weeknights. She runs often, uses the peace of the creek to read books, and has fun at the local pub at night. Fierce, intelligent, manipulative, independent, and fiery. The woman of many faces. Who she has met, how it happened: Avery Upon arriving in Greyville, Fayth got a job as a waitress. She played the card of a blonde wannabe actress with a ditzy personality. At the restaurant, she works with Avery who she felt was a bit too curious about certain conversations regarding "dog attacks." And, she also works part time at the same pub all the wolves go at. Working with Avery yet again as a bartender on some nights/days. Carlson Carlson Jakes convinced her to join the pack after she battled with two of the betas within the clan. Mori If there's one member of the Greyville pack that Fayth needs to be careful around, it's Morgana. Fierce and intelligent. A cunning much like her own. While Fayth has somewhat eased into the ranks of the clan and become an Omega, Mori has not accepted her. Fayth knows when Mori's eyes are on her. There can be no missteps. She has to keep the mask on or risk her life. Ryan A wolf much like herself. Defiant, and in search of some sort of normalcy. However, while she feels closer to him than most others; she still doesn't like his reckless behavior. The pack's safety; and most importantly, her own life, are on the line.</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer He took in Mori's newest order and went straight back to Carlson, observing the surroundings as he went. The pack sure did a number on the bar every time they got here, he felt really bad for the staff. "Carlson, Mori just told me she thinks there's a hunter here in the bar. She wants everyone to stay." He paused for a moment, considering his most previous order from an alpha. "Should I still be bringing Anton home?" He asked with uncertainty. Sometimes having two alphas was helpful but other times, like now, it was a little confusing. Looking sideways as Anton stuffing her face with table popcorn, Kalib certainly hoped that no trouble would come about because he was sure that Anton wasn't going to be any help if, say, a fight happened. He also hoped that Fay was sober enough to help if the hunter caused problems for them. Their pack was strong but if half the wolves were drunk then. . . It'll suck for them, big time. As he waited for a response, he kept an eye on Anton in case he really had to bring her home.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir ~Anton~ Anton could barely stand it. Carlson was shouting commands for Kalib to make her leave, this random chick was clinging on her and basically screaming at her. Then Ryan had said no more drinks purely for the mess she made. AND Mori said we're not leaving, so who knows what to believe? Anton screamed as loud as she could to shut everyone up. "I will leave, ok? But don't expect to find me at my apartment." And with that, she promptly stormed (well, stumbled) out, flinging everyone off her. 'Hm, where should I go? Ooh, I know,' she thought whilst walking along, 'I'll go to the dump. Nobody will think to find me there!' And, thinking she was pure genius, Anton set off to the dump. She thought nobody was looking, so she applied a bit of ye olde 'wolf speed, jumping over bins and all that rubbish. She made it there easily and quickly, and began kicking the dirt around, taking out her anger. After a while of getting rid of the hate, Anton sat down against the wall and began to silently cry.</s> <\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester ''Call me Mori,'' she smiled back at him, while leading him to a half-empty storage room. Inside, there were some stacks of beer cans, a few spared chairs, and a billiard table. Overall, a nice quiet place. ''Here... That's much better, isn't it?'' she asked, and turned around on her heels, facing him with a wondering eyes, while leaning her behind on a table. She then looked at the bottle she was holding, realizing for the first time just what kind of liver poison had Ryan given her. Oh, great! Since she wasn't much of a drinker, in fact she didn't drink alcohol at all, she had no idea, what kind of effect would that liquid have on her. She only knew that werewolves were supposedly able to drink more of it than ordinary humans did, before passing out, that is. Either way, she cared so much for her pack that she was prepared to break one of her most fundamental rules - no drinking alcohol. ''So, stranger, tell me about yourself. What is a man, handsome as you are, doing alone in this rat-hole? I know you are not from here, so don't lie,'' she asked him softly, while pretending to be awfully clumsy with opening that bottle in order to appear much weaker than she actually was.</s> <\|message\|>Anthar "Shadow Bolt" Raclaw Her eyes are stunning. "Well Mori, I hunt vampires for a living. I'm a vampire hunter." Anthar paused a few seconds, then put on a small smile. This wasn't the first time he had to answer that question, so he had an answer ready. "I'm joking of course. I am an artist. A painter. I travel the country looking for small towns like this. Small towns usually have the best views, and also they give me inspiration." Anthar noticed Mori was struggling to get the bottle open. "You need help with that?" Anthar pointed at the bottle, "What is it? Whiskey?"</s>	<\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow What, did I become a lightweight all of a sudden? Fay wanted to reach out and snatch the bottle of whisky back from Kalib. But then again, she couldn't quite blame him for thinking she was about to get drunk. No one really knew that Fayth had a rather high tolerance for toxic drinks in her system. Honestly, four quick shots of whisky made her buzzed but it was nothing in the grand scheme. Also, Fay happened to work as a bartender here on some nights. She could deduct it from her paycheck if need be! It quieted the noise of her mind. Helped her focus. But she sacrificed a certain amount of self-control, and the caged animal of rage inside could be released a lot easier. Somewhat of a bad habit when she needed to forget things. The only thing that blew off steam and calmed the blazing fire of her anger was the one thing she wanted to stay away from; fighting. Unfortunately for her, being a warrior amongst werewolf ranks was perhaps her greatest talent. Sometimes Fay got it, sometimes she didn't. She could be secretive and aggressive when instead she should try to remain as calm as possible. But when her life is on the line with hunters and potential enemy werewolves, it's hard to keep a zen master approach watching a pack completely fall into disarray. So unorganized at times. "None of you would survive more than a few days out of your little bubble here…" Fayth said under her breath. Watching Kalib speak to Carlson. Keeping an eye on Mori who was flirting with a hunter. There was no thought in her mind that said he could just be a deer hunter. Years of abusive experiences taught paranoia. Always thinking of her own safety. No one is who you think they are. Trust is not an option. Fayth understood the reasoning behind Mori's actions, but the omega wanted nothing to do with violence. Blood on her hands became old. Looking in the mirror at the scar on her face. It would never go away. Stains of death never washed away for her. Fay decided then it was time to change how certain functions of this werewolf clan were run. She hopped over the counter and looked right at Jesse. "Tomorrow at noon. Since you seem to want a rematch so badly, I'll give you one. We'll see if you can entertain me for even five minutes." Fayth took the direct route at Jesse's pride. Feeling there was no way she'd turn down the opportunity for a fight. Though, she made sure to keep her voice down to a whisper. "Just our legs and our fists. No weapons. Not that I'm scared of you holding a baseball bat anyway." This wasn't about pride anymore. Fay wanted to use this as a teaching lesson. To show Jesse just how much she had to learn. If Fayth could motivate Jesse to become a better fighter, the pack could be more well off. If Jesse became less aggressive, that could be a benefit as well. "Meet me in the woods by Grey Lake. You know the spot. You can probably find me by scent if you've learned how to track me successfully yet." Fay pat her on the back as she followed Anton outside. Fay's ears perked up as she took in all of the sounds of the night. The rustling of the leaves gently blowing from a soft breeze. Water from a nearby lake. Animals talking amongst themselves in the dark. Snaps of twigs, the wind caressing her cheek. Soon her scent picked up what it was looking for. Anton. The omega shot glances around her before running with her unnatural speed. Following Anton to the dump. Fay evaded bins, running with speed and grace. Landing with ease as she jumped over the last set of bins and found Anton against the wall. Crying. Fay trotted over to her, but standing at a safe distance away. Being a somewhat recent member of the pack, and taking charge of omega duties after Anton had been being demoted probably didn't sit well with Anton. For the moment, Fay let silence fill the air between them. Looking at her and then to the sky. Deep breath. "It's hard to lose a friend." Fayth spoke. "I know the feeling all too well."</s>
<\|description\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Age: 23 Appearance: Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega?: Omega Background: Within the dark whirlwind of fangs and blood, the pup becomes a wolf. Those are the words of her father and the code of her pack; the code that served to create the trial of fire by which Fayth became tested and hardened. The vast, endless freedom of the Alaskan tundra imprinted its memory on her paws. Never-ending winter nights of all-consuming darkness still claw at her soul. Togetherness is survival, division is death. Year after year, the unforgiving words and beliefs of her father were branded into her mind and body by the brutal icy blades of wintry wind. Once coexisting with humans, the Bloodmoon pack was massacred and dispersed all across Alaska. Once the most peaceful, free, and united wolf tribes on earth was now broken and scattered. Fayth's father watched his parents die by the hands of hunters and the light of his heart became consumed with darkness. The old ways died, the time of blood had risen. Her father, rarely spoken of by name in werewolf lore, took on the mantle of "The Black." With fur black as the dark night blanket across calm waters he struck from the shadows with pearl fangs that spattered the snow-white tundra with rivers of crimson. The Black had no hesitation for the weak, cutting down even those of werewolf blood. He turned those who had the most motivation to kill. A pack unified through the bond of battle. Within time, he formed a pack that could move place to place all over the vast state of Alaska without ever being found by hunters. The hunters that did catch up were never to be seen again, or were posted in places where mankind could see the bloody message. The Black became more ruthless and cold as he went. He created combat trials where only the strongest of the wolf kind survived and earned the title of 'wolf' within the pack. Each and every member of his tribe has fierce fighting ability and a strong will to survive. None are afraid to kill. None have any love for humans. His ways blinded those around him because with years of survival they soon believed his code was the only one that worked in the new world. Perhaps he could bring werewolves back from the brink of destruction and turn the hunters into the hunted. Only one refused to live by the creed of fangs and blood. Only one would not be bound by vicious brutality on the road of destruction. Fayth Catelaya Nightshade. That is her name. Well, she preferred the last name of Nightshade as it was her mothers before she became a Frost just like her father. Any action to get further from him, the better. Life was peaceful as a little girl, but as the hunters became more ruthless everything turned upside down. Her mother was killed, and her father was no longer a man of warmth. He pushed her and tested her. As the oldest child she took the brunt of his rage. Oftentimes he wouldn't be able to look at her due to how similar she came to look like her mother. Trained in hunting, scouting and fighting; Fayth was set to be the Omega of her pack. The Black long decided there should be only one Omega. He believed in the idea of the strongest survives. There should be no weakness anywhere. On her rise she took all the scars one would expect. Her back is littered with the marks of her father's claws and his fangs. One scar next to her left eye stains her face with the reminder of pain every time she looks in the mirror. Longing for the freedom of running across the Alaskan tundra and the warmth of better days, Fayth had had enough. She betrayed the pack, breaking the permanent blood oath of never leaving the tribe. Before her eighteenth birthday, the day she would be permanently branded with the mark of the Bloodmoon pack, she disappeared. Her father looked for her. Sending scouts and her brother Marcus. Fayth didn't get away without harm. The scar next to her eye is one she will remember forever. She managed to get to the mainland United States and moved from one state to the next. Avoiding hunters and scouts of her father. It used to be every few months she had to move. But after having reached California and the town of Greyville, Fayth hasn't been touched for a few years. She enjoyed the times of her wild, on-the-run lifestyle on her own. The thrill of freedom, independence and being on her own became something she preferred. Settling with humans who fancied her, or other wolves was not an option. Attachment was dangerous because the looming threat of The Black always shadowed her everywhere she went. At this time she had called herself Fayth Morrow. Her striking raven black hair has been dyed a dirty blonde to look like it is her natural hair color. She changes her personality wherever she goes. In Greyville, she has played the act of a wannabe actress. Pretending to be less intelligent than she actually is. Though, one look at her deceitful sapphire eyes hints to a deep reservoir of hidden truth. Living a solitary life once more, she soon found her rootless living was unsustainable. Evading hunters, she found herself in this small town. Crossing the paths of other wolves, Fayth found herself in a fight. She held her ground despite a two to one disadvantage, and also had her first run in with Carlson Jakes. Fayth agreed to become a part of his pack as an Omega. Once more she lives in a pack, and this time under a leader who is sharp and resourceful without having to resort to violence. Though, Fayth remains as that mysterious woman sitting at the end of the bar. Looking at the world through the faint lens of smoke that rises from her worst habit. That and the mind-numbing venom she drinks down from the bottle every weekend, and even weeknights. She runs often, uses the peace of the creek to read books, and has fun at the local pub at night. Fierce, intelligent, manipulative, independent, and fiery. The woman of many faces. Who she has met, how it happened: Avery Upon arriving in Greyville, Fayth got a job as a waitress. She played the card of a blonde wannabe actress with a ditzy personality. At the restaurant, she works with Avery who she felt was a bit too curious about certain conversations regarding "dog attacks." And, she also works part time at the same pub all the wolves go at. Working with Avery yet again as a bartender on some nights/days. Carlson Carlson Jakes convinced her to join the pack after she battled with two of the betas within the clan. Mori If there's one member of the Greyville pack that Fayth needs to be careful around, it's Morgana. Fierce and intelligent. A cunning much like her own. While Fayth has somewhat eased into the ranks of the clan and become an Omega, Mori has not accepted her. Fayth knows when Mori's eyes are on her. There can be no missteps. She has to keep the mask on or risk her life. Ryan A wolf much like herself. Defiant, and in search of some sort of normalcy. However, while she feels closer to him than most others; she still doesn't like his reckless behavior. The pack's safety; and most importantly, her own life, are on the line.</s> <\|message\|>Jesse Williams Jess reached the cold, refreshing outside unnoticed. The air inside the bar was stagnant as hell, but one didn't notice unless confronted with normal levels of oxygen. The young woman took a few deep breaths, looking like she simply enjoyed the prickly cold sensation. But really, she was sniffing out the trace of Fay and Anton. As soon as she picked up the scent of the latter, her strolling pace turned into a bouncy, accelerated fast-walk. Those two, together in the same place, possibly far off from possible witnesses? That had to end in a bloody mess. There was no way Anton and Fay would have a normal talk ever, Jesse thought. Too much bad blood, omega vs ex-omega tension. A great deal of that instigated by her own petty lies whenever she tried getting Anton to attack someone, no doubt. To be fair, this pairing was the most obvious target for any instigator with half a brain. Though taking her time at first, Jess soon became impatient. How far had they gone? What where they doing anyway? Did Fay maybe plan to beat up Anton tonight, in secret, so she wouldn't be able to help Jess gang up on her at the noon-beat down? As dishonorable that would be, it was not beyond Fayth. A woman did a lot of despicable things to save her face. A dirty smirk crept on Jess face at the notion, how far the shining example of an omega had fallen. The scent became stronger around the old dump. Curious place to go at night indeed. Jess felt the cold steel of her brass knuckles and clutched them in her fist, invisibly inside her pocket. She could hear two familiar voices and quietly crept around the piles of trash and junk, not silent enough to properly sneak up on someone with their sense of hearing, but not eagerly giving away her presence either.</s> <\|message\|>Anthar "Shadow Bolt" Raclaw Anthar twisted softly, not expecting the bottle to be closed so tight. It was. Failing to open it the first time, he tried a second time with more force, finally getting it opened. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Now she will think I'm weak. Trying to hide his embarrassment, Anthar smiled at Mori. "I think we're missing some cups." He turned around searching the shelves around him for cups. He spotted a few glasses sitting next to some utensils on one of the shelves. He took two and set them down on the billiard table, then he poured from the mysterious drink into both glasses. He put down the bottle and handed one glass to Mori and the other he took for himself. "Cheers!" He raised his glass high, then put the glass to his lips and took a sip. "Wow, that is some strong shit!" He exclaimed, scrunching up his face. It was stronger than that vodka Randal gave him when he turned 21. "Anyway, what is a beautiful woman like you doing alone at a bar in the middle of nowhere?" he asked. He could already feel the alcohol starting to take effect.</s> <\|message\|>Thomas Young Thomas A steady sound of beeps greeted Thomas as he woke up, the smell of slight death was in the air. Slowly opening his eyes, the sound of beeps was apparently his heart rate, and being strapped in a ton of IV and his arm practically in mummy wear, the white walls and the plain walls quickly made him realize that he was admitted at a Hospital, again. "Crap, again huh? Well whatever, haha." he said outloud to no one in particular. Noticing no one was really around, he shrugged it off "Well I was never really the popular one." he said then laughed in a slightly sad tone. Lying back down, one of the Nurses entered and became wide eyed at Thomas, quickly running off and fetching one of the doctors. The doctor came in and told him about how he was lucky and the like for surviving with that deep of a wound and blood loss, Well that's not the first time I've heard that. he thought to himself. After a bit of surprised faces and condemning tone about him not going to the hospital immediately. Thomas just nodded and smiled and they seem to let him off the hook, though one of the Nurses has been glancing at him frequently with a tinge of red. He raised an eyebrow to this and thought, Must be imagining it. After a bit of more talking and the like, they finally let him rest, with a sigh he lied back down on his bed and was about to close his eyes, reaching for his phones where he thought it was, patting around the area he quickly became anxious. That phone... It fucking has all the hunters information. Where did I lose it? Calling one of the Nurses, the nurse who came was the one who Thomas thought she was glancing at, though she didn't meet his gaze, he sternly said to her, "Would you mind getting the woman who brought me here, right now, there's an issue." with only a wondering gaze, she nodded and disappeared into the hallway. Sighing, he lied back down again.</s>	<\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow The Black "Follow him." Sound on the other end of the phone. "Your wounds will heal. Follow him." Fire glowed around the face of a muscular, powerful man. Scruffy face with the look of a man who had seen far too many winters. Where smiles went to die. Inside one of the caves they found in Greyville, The Black stood amongst his other spies. The entire pack was not present. Just The Black, his son Eric, and another of his trustworthy scouts; Jake. His follower who had escaped Thomas' traps and inflicted wounds on him was Deon. "Deon. I won't ask again." Silence on the other end, then sound. "Good. Text me the address of the hospital he ends up at." Click, the phone slipped into his pocket. One step ahead of everything. The Black turned to his son. "Put the fire out. We're moving out. I'll need you to keep watch at the hospital for suspicious humans. Notify me immediately." "Are you going to kill him?" "No. He might lead us right to your sister." "If she's even here." "I've been a tracker for many years. The trail continues here… I need to put fear and doubt in these hunters anyway." The orange glow within the cave snuffed out. Darkness as the men swiftly ran through the woodlands of Greyville. Running with unnatural grace and speed through the forests. Seeing in the night what no one else could see. Smelling and hearing what humans would miss. Soon the text came rolling in. Not long after, The Black appeared at the hospital. "Look casual." To this, Eric and Jake pulled out cigarettes and smoked. Looking around at anyone walking in or out of the hospital. The Black trotted forward. Boots on his feet. Dark jeans and a tight black shirt. His eyes an unnatural golden color that he couldn't turn off anymore. A trait he had gained from killing too many people. Though, he attributed it to a medical issue. Still, The Black did not fear to be seen by hunters like this. He disappeared into darkness much to quickly. The Black entered the hospital and exchanged looks with Deon who acted as a waiting visitor, sitting on one chair. Hiding the wound on his back and his leg. Healing quick. "Excuse me, my son was just admitted in here." "Name?" "Young. Marcus Young. His name is…" "Thomas?" "Yes." "One moment." The nurse left the desk for a moment. The Black leaned over the desk to see her computer. Thomas' information posted up. Including the room number. Within a moment, The Black was gone as she arrived back at the desk. Moving away and heading up an elevator. He walked down the hall. Boots slammed against the ground with heavy, ominous thuds. Arriving at his room and opening the door once Thomas's nurse had left. The Black strolled in. Grabbing a chair and taking a seat. "Hello, Thomas." The Black pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. "You don't mind, do you?" He didn't care. The Black lit the cigarette and smoked near Thomas's bed. Even when he lit the cig, his golden glare never left Thomas. "Those are some wounds on you. Must've been one hell of a knife fight." Deep breath. "Unless it was an animal you were hunting. A wolf maybe…"</s>
<\|description\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Age: 23 Appearance: Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega?: Omega Background: Within the dark whirlwind of fangs and blood, the pup becomes a wolf. Those are the words of her father and the code of her pack; the code that served to create the trial of fire by which Fayth became tested and hardened. The vast, endless freedom of the Alaskan tundra imprinted its memory on her paws. Never-ending winter nights of all-consuming darkness still claw at her soul. Togetherness is survival, division is death. Year after year, the unforgiving words and beliefs of her father were branded into her mind and body by the brutal icy blades of wintry wind. Once coexisting with humans, the Bloodmoon pack was massacred and dispersed all across Alaska. Once the most peaceful, free, and united wolf tribes on earth was now broken and scattered. Fayth's father watched his parents die by the hands of hunters and the light of his heart became consumed with darkness. The old ways died, the time of blood had risen. Her father, rarely spoken of by name in werewolf lore, took on the mantle of "The Black." With fur black as the dark night blanket across calm waters he struck from the shadows with pearl fangs that spattered the snow-white tundra with rivers of crimson. The Black had no hesitation for the weak, cutting down even those of werewolf blood. He turned those who had the most motivation to kill. A pack unified through the bond of battle. Within time, he formed a pack that could move place to place all over the vast state of Alaska without ever being found by hunters. The hunters that did catch up were never to be seen again, or were posted in places where mankind could see the bloody message. The Black became more ruthless and cold as he went. He created combat trials where only the strongest of the wolf kind survived and earned the title of 'wolf' within the pack. Each and every member of his tribe has fierce fighting ability and a strong will to survive. None are afraid to kill. None have any love for humans. His ways blinded those around him because with years of survival they soon believed his code was the only one that worked in the new world. Perhaps he could bring werewolves back from the brink of destruction and turn the hunters into the hunted. Only one refused to live by the creed of fangs and blood. Only one would not be bound by vicious brutality on the road of destruction. Fayth Catelaya Nightshade. That is her name. Well, she preferred the last name of Nightshade as it was her mothers before she became a Frost just like her father. Any action to get further from him, the better. Life was peaceful as a little girl, but as the hunters became more ruthless everything turned upside down. Her mother was killed, and her father was no longer a man of warmth. He pushed her and tested her. As the oldest child she took the brunt of his rage. Oftentimes he wouldn't be able to look at her due to how similar she came to look like her mother. Trained in hunting, scouting and fighting; Fayth was set to be the Omega of her pack. The Black long decided there should be only one Omega. He believed in the idea of the strongest survives. There should be no weakness anywhere. On her rise she took all the scars one would expect. Her back is littered with the marks of her father's claws and his fangs. One scar next to her left eye stains her face with the reminder of pain every time she looks in the mirror. Longing for the freedom of running across the Alaskan tundra and the warmth of better days, Fayth had had enough. She betrayed the pack, breaking the permanent blood oath of never leaving the tribe. Before her eighteenth birthday, the day she would be permanently branded with the mark of the Bloodmoon pack, she disappeared. Her father looked for her. Sending scouts and her brother Marcus. Fayth didn't get away without harm. The scar next to her eye is one she will remember forever. She managed to get to the mainland United States and moved from one state to the next. Avoiding hunters and scouts of her father. It used to be every few months she had to move. But after having reached California and the town of Greyville, Fayth hasn't been touched for a few years. She enjoyed the times of her wild, on-the-run lifestyle on her own. The thrill of freedom, independence and being on her own became something she preferred. Settling with humans who fancied her, or other wolves was not an option. Attachment was dangerous because the looming threat of The Black always shadowed her everywhere she went. At this time she had called herself Fayth Morrow. Her striking raven black hair has been dyed a dirty blonde to look like it is her natural hair color. She changes her personality wherever she goes. In Greyville, she has played the act of a wannabe actress. Pretending to be less intelligent than she actually is. Though, one look at her deceitful sapphire eyes hints to a deep reservoir of hidden truth. Living a solitary life once more, she soon found her rootless living was unsustainable. Evading hunters, she found herself in this small town. Crossing the paths of other wolves, Fayth found herself in a fight. She held her ground despite a two to one disadvantage, and also had her first run in with Carlson Jakes. Fayth agreed to become a part of his pack as an Omega. Once more she lives in a pack, and this time under a leader who is sharp and resourceful without having to resort to violence. Though, Fayth remains as that mysterious woman sitting at the end of the bar. Looking at the world through the faint lens of smoke that rises from her worst habit. That and the mind-numbing venom she drinks down from the bottle every weekend, and even weeknights. She runs often, uses the peace of the creek to read books, and has fun at the local pub at night. Fierce, intelligent, manipulative, independent, and fiery. The woman of many faces. Who she has met, how it happened: Avery Upon arriving in Greyville, Fayth got a job as a waitress. She played the card of a blonde wannabe actress with a ditzy personality. At the restaurant, she works with Avery who she felt was a bit too curious about certain conversations regarding "dog attacks." And, she also works part time at the same pub all the wolves go at. Working with Avery yet again as a bartender on some nights/days. Carlson Carlson Jakes convinced her to join the pack after she battled with two of the betas within the clan. Mori If there's one member of the Greyville pack that Fayth needs to be careful around, it's Morgana. Fierce and intelligent. A cunning much like her own. While Fayth has somewhat eased into the ranks of the clan and become an Omega, Mori has not accepted her. Fayth knows when Mori's eyes are on her. There can be no missteps. She has to keep the mask on or risk her life. Ryan A wolf much like herself. Defiant, and in search of some sort of normalcy. However, while she feels closer to him than most others; she still doesn't like his reckless behavior. The pack's safety; and most importantly, her own life, are on the line.</s> <\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow The Black A quiet chat with Thomas became a loud party so suddenly. First with the woman, and then the tall man with the gun storming into the room. From his accent he sounded Russian. The Black assessed him as the number one threat within the room, a hunter most definitely. A skilled one at that. Thomas had to be decent himself to get Deon so close to death. The Black himself had no intentions of getting touched by silver. Not today. Not on this night. He'd prefer never, but wounds in battle can be inevitable. He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a photo. Raising his arms into the air. A pistol outlined under his shirt. Tucked underneath the backside of his pants. "I'll be leaving soon enough. I simply had a question." The Black lifted the cig back to his lips and inhaled, while showing the photo to Thomas. "Her name is Fayth." In the picture she looked quite different, but Fayth Morrow had a distinct look in her eyes that could be matched anywhere. She might be able to pull off the look of a sorority blonde, but her eyes told a different story. Matching the look of the brunette Fayth of the photo who seemed to be pondering and full of thought. "Just someone I'm looking for. Went missing a while back. Six months. Maybe even a year now. The trail has lead me here. All I want his help. Yes or no is all I need." He looked at Yvette and then the Russian. "The name is Jake if you really want to know." "I don't want any trouble. Want to be finding this woman and be on my way."</s> <\|message\|>Anthar "Shadow Bolt" Raclaw Anthar noticed she didn't drink from her cup. He was going to ask about it, but before he got a chance to she put a hand on his chest and said seductively, ''Me? Oh, I just come here to lure good looking men into this room, and then tricking them into drinking that awefully strong shit of a vodka.'' Is she just making fun, or was there actually something in that vodka? Anthar wondered. But then he looked into her stunning eyes and she gazed back, putting her arms around his waist. At this point Anthar couldn't think about anything really, other than Mori. He didn't know what he felt, if it was love or nothing more than momentary passion, but he didn't really care. The only thing he could concentrate on were her eyes. And then, as if out of instinct, he leaned in, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her.</s> <\|message\|>Thomas Young Thomas Being intensely focused on this new stranger, he almost hadn't noticed his two friends, Dimitri and Yvette enter the room, both really calm for an odd reason. Though their presence really gave Thomas relief. In the flurry of mixed talking and threats being thrown around, he only heard about Fay which made him wince involuntarily and reply, "We have no reason to tell you anything of the like." Thomas replied with calm but forceful tone while slowly inching for his Silver knife. "Leave now, and there will be no trouble." he replies to him while also motioning Dimitri to lower his weapon, "I really don't wanna do anything here in a Hospital, so just leave right now." he said all the while now gripping his knife all the more tightly, "Three versus One, you think you can handle it?"</s> <\|message\|>Carlson Jakes Carlson Carlson was done. I mean, really done. He was tired, he was annoyed, he was just done with tonight. He was headed home, and no one was going to convince him to stay. Looking over at his co-alpha, he just shrugged toward the door when they made eye contact, and he left. He knew that the remaining weres were in capable hands. He had things to do back home anyway. Like toll out punishment Nanix Her shift was nearing an and, and boy would she be happy to kick a few of these rebel-rousers out. She started cleaning up her work station, making last call and giving out the last of the drinks.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir ~Anton~ Anton was breathing hard, and she cracked her knuckles. Fay's words lingered in her ears, "Take it, and you won't get another one..." That one free shot could be all Anton got for the night.. She was so far in the whisky.. Suddenly Anton's fists were acting of their own accord. Using her unnatural strength, Anton's knuckles aimed a blow at Fay's jaw. Anton was too far in, she would barely remember this in the morning. She could see the anger etching onto Fay's features, and got ready to run. She doubted she would get far, but she began to run anyway, not even using her speed. She was practically looking pain in the eye. Fay was bound to get her.</s>	<\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow A quick rush of fury and anger always seemed to get the better of Fayth. Storms of burning rage stirred inside her like a hurricane she couldn't escape from no matter how hard she tried. That part of her. That past didn't go away. Especially now when challenging Anton to punch her was not the wisest of words. But more unwise was Anton jabbing Fayth's jaw with a powerful punch. Anton was a werewolf, a former omega who earned the position for fighting prowess but lost it due to unpredictability. Fayth was the unknown who had only been in one fight between Jesse and another wolf who she battled off with ease. Anton had power. And despite being drunk, that fist still stung. The locked - now uncaged - heart of darkness shrouded Fayth's face with pure rage. Almost hate. Her eyes had changed from their cool sapphire blue to the unnatural violet gaze. The wolf was loose. Fay took off after Anton. Quick on her feet, a burst of speed as though she were spring-loaded on the release. Anton was drunk and out of practice, Fay knew it. Tracking her and even seeing her was too easy. This chase wouldn't last long. The night lit up to a bright yellow, neon green. The wolf night vision turned on. Smell of booze and the scent of Anton leading Fay right to her and she caught up easily. She naturally loved to run and ran all the time. But it was almost a thing she hated under her father. Long forgotten scars that faded on her feet from being trained to run so hard her feet bled and she still couldn't stop. Also equipped with the tutelage of her father in both boxing and kick boxing. Knowing how to use her legs and hands to her disposal. An omega fit to be a perfect killing machine with the storied wolf pack of Alaska. And she was right on top of Anton now. She leaped into the air and tackled Anton to the ground. Rolling right on top of her. Fay was quick to use her abilities and pin Anton to the ground and at last she clenched her fists. As her gaze met Anton's, Anton would be able to see Fay's soft gentle violet eyes looking down on her but with the look of a killer. Then something strange happened as the bloodlust inside of Fay was being unleashed. Incapable of holding it in much longer. Her eyes turned golden. "You miserable bitch!" Fay snarled. Her words still human but slowly shifting as the first fist reigned down and smashed Anton in the jaw. Then the left. One-two, one-two. Brutal punches. Her knuckles crashed against Anton's face like wrecking balls. The bones cracked against each other. And there was definitely blood. A lot of blood and when Fay inhaled the scent, Anton came face to face with the demon inside. Fay's eyes were blood red. Crimson flames of hatred, but not for Anton, something incomprehensible to those who did not know Fayth. Fay let out a primal scream into the air. No feminine noise at all. That was a roar of a monster. Her voice no longer recognizable. "You think you're life is so fucking hard, huh?! You think you know me?" Her fist cracked against Anton's face again. "Did you think I'd be afraid of you?" Another punch. "You don't know what FEAR is!" And in that moment, the daughter resembled the father. Fear incarnate.</s>
<\|description\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Age: 23 Appearance: Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega?: Omega Background: Within the dark whirlwind of fangs and blood, the pup becomes a wolf. Those are the words of her father and the code of her pack; the code that served to create the trial of fire by which Fayth became tested and hardened. The vast, endless freedom of the Alaskan tundra imprinted its memory on her paws. Never-ending winter nights of all-consuming darkness still claw at her soul. Togetherness is survival, division is death. Year after year, the unforgiving words and beliefs of her father were branded into her mind and body by the brutal icy blades of wintry wind. Once coexisting with humans, the Bloodmoon pack was massacred and dispersed all across Alaska. Once the most peaceful, free, and united wolf tribes on earth was now broken and scattered. Fayth's father watched his parents die by the hands of hunters and the light of his heart became consumed with darkness. The old ways died, the time of blood had risen. Her father, rarely spoken of by name in werewolf lore, took on the mantle of "The Black." With fur black as the dark night blanket across calm waters he struck from the shadows with pearl fangs that spattered the snow-white tundra with rivers of crimson. The Black had no hesitation for the weak, cutting down even those of werewolf blood. He turned those who had the most motivation to kill. A pack unified through the bond of battle. Within time, he formed a pack that could move place to place all over the vast state of Alaska without ever being found by hunters. The hunters that did catch up were never to be seen again, or were posted in places where mankind could see the bloody message. The Black became more ruthless and cold as he went. He created combat trials where only the strongest of the wolf kind survived and earned the title of 'wolf' within the pack. Each and every member of his tribe has fierce fighting ability and a strong will to survive. None are afraid to kill. None have any love for humans. His ways blinded those around him because with years of survival they soon believed his code was the only one that worked in the new world. Perhaps he could bring werewolves back from the brink of destruction and turn the hunters into the hunted. Only one refused to live by the creed of fangs and blood. Only one would not be bound by vicious brutality on the road of destruction. Fayth Catelaya Nightshade. That is her name. Well, she preferred the last name of Nightshade as it was her mothers before she became a Frost just like her father. Any action to get further from him, the better. Life was peaceful as a little girl, but as the hunters became more ruthless everything turned upside down. Her mother was killed, and her father was no longer a man of warmth. He pushed her and tested her. As the oldest child she took the brunt of his rage. Oftentimes he wouldn't be able to look at her due to how similar she came to look like her mother. Trained in hunting, scouting and fighting; Fayth was set to be the Omega of her pack. The Black long decided there should be only one Omega. He believed in the idea of the strongest survives. There should be no weakness anywhere. On her rise she took all the scars one would expect. Her back is littered with the marks of her father's claws and his fangs. One scar next to her left eye stains her face with the reminder of pain every time she looks in the mirror. Longing for the freedom of running across the Alaskan tundra and the warmth of better days, Fayth had had enough. She betrayed the pack, breaking the permanent blood oath of never leaving the tribe. Before her eighteenth birthday, the day she would be permanently branded with the mark of the Bloodmoon pack, she disappeared. Her father looked for her. Sending scouts and her brother Marcus. Fayth didn't get away without harm. The scar next to her eye is one she will remember forever. She managed to get to the mainland United States and moved from one state to the next. Avoiding hunters and scouts of her father. It used to be every few months she had to move. But after having reached California and the town of Greyville, Fayth hasn't been touched for a few years. She enjoyed the times of her wild, on-the-run lifestyle on her own. The thrill of freedom, independence and being on her own became something she preferred. Settling with humans who fancied her, or other wolves was not an option. Attachment was dangerous because the looming threat of The Black always shadowed her everywhere she went. At this time she had called herself Fayth Morrow. Her striking raven black hair has been dyed a dirty blonde to look like it is her natural hair color. She changes her personality wherever she goes. In Greyville, she has played the act of a wannabe actress. Pretending to be less intelligent than she actually is. Though, one look at her deceitful sapphire eyes hints to a deep reservoir of hidden truth. Living a solitary life once more, she soon found her rootless living was unsustainable. Evading hunters, she found herself in this small town. Crossing the paths of other wolves, Fayth found herself in a fight. She held her ground despite a two to one disadvantage, and also had her first run in with Carlson Jakes. Fayth agreed to become a part of his pack as an Omega. Once more she lives in a pack, and this time under a leader who is sharp and resourceful without having to resort to violence. Though, Fayth remains as that mysterious woman sitting at the end of the bar. Looking at the world through the faint lens of smoke that rises from her worst habit. That and the mind-numbing venom she drinks down from the bottle every weekend, and even weeknights. She runs often, uses the peace of the creek to read books, and has fun at the local pub at night. Fierce, intelligent, manipulative, independent, and fiery. The woman of many faces. Who she has met, how it happened: Avery Upon arriving in Greyville, Fayth got a job as a waitress. She played the card of a blonde wannabe actress with a ditzy personality. At the restaurant, she works with Avery who she felt was a bit too curious about certain conversations regarding "dog attacks." And, she also works part time at the same pub all the wolves go at. Working with Avery yet again as a bartender on some nights/days. Carlson Carlson Jakes convinced her to join the pack after she battled with two of the betas within the clan. Mori If there's one member of the Greyville pack that Fayth needs to be careful around, it's Morgana. Fierce and intelligent. A cunning much like her own. While Fayth has somewhat eased into the ranks of the clan and become an Omega, Mori has not accepted her. Fayth knows when Mori's eyes are on her. There can be no missteps. She has to keep the mask on or risk her life. Ryan A wolf much like herself. Defiant, and in search of some sort of normalcy. However, while she feels closer to him than most others; she still doesn't like his reckless behavior. The pack's safety; and most importantly, her own life, are on the line.</s> <\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow The Black Around The Black, any facial reaction was a mistake. Kane caught onto Thomas. Investigative gaze, a stare that cut through a man like sharpened steel peeling the layers of skin. Carving an apple. His mere presence seeping under the skin as though the person looking at him had spiders crawling on the inside of their body. "So. She is here. I suppose I'll have to be quick before she disappears. Fayth is good at that. Good at hiding herself. I suppose you know that already. And now you know what she is, but do you really? Of all the things I've ever seen or done. I've never seen a heart so dark…" Inhale. Exhale. Orange glow. Smoke in the air. The Black put his cigarette out on the nightside table by the hospital bed. The Black's nostrils flared. Taking in the scent around him. Well aware of Thomas's silver knife. "Funny thing about smoke. When you smell it, you know a fire is coming. Will you be prepared? It won't matter if the flame is too vast. Too wild. Everything touched turns to ash inevitably." He stood up from his seat. "I'm taking my leave. I have no desire to fight three on one even if I think I'd come out alive. The only mistake is thinking that I'm the one who's outnumbered." The Black strolled to the exit of the room. "Have a goodnight, hunters." As he left, he whistled an audible tune. The beat unmistakable. A folk lore song made by hunters and wolves alike about the bloodiest legend of Alaska. The words whispered so dark, so quiet in the mind… Once in the icy tundra the wolf pelts stacked so high, No man had to fear as the beasts were forced to fly But one night the blood moon rose, and so returned the pack Cocky men packed their guns, never to be coming back And the snowy fields turned crimson red from the night's attack Hunter becomes hunted, and all fears The Black… The Black… The Black… The Black... And so soon, once he was gone from the room. The Black and his scouts disappeared into the night like ghosts.</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer After some time, Kalib thought it would be a good idea to head back to the apartments. Things were starting to wind down and it didn't look like there was any important omega things to do. He left money paying for his drinks and an extra tip for the commotion they had caused at the pub. "There goes the rest of my salary this week." He mumbled, a little pouty that he didn't spend it on other things. Rolling down his sweater sleeves as he stepped outside, he noticed the intermingling scents of his fellow pack members heading somewhere. "Is that towards. . .Nah, they can't be there." As much as the night was dull, Kalib wasn't sure if he wanted to head in the direction of quarrelsome girls and get himself involved in whatever violent thing they were likely doing. Yet the thought still lingered in his mind. Should he go investigate even if it meant getting into or having to break up a fight?</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir ~Anton~ Wind 'Oh God, forgive me,' Anton thought as she felt Fay pull her to the ground; she struggled. Her auburn eyes met Fay's violet eyes making Anton feel like crying. Maybe she even wet herself. Then them scary eyes turned golden. What the fuck...? "You miserable bitch!" The words came out of the monster's mouth so quick Anton barely heard them at all. Her fist cracked into Anton's jaw. And again. Again. Her glasses slipped off the heavily bleeding face that was being used as a punch bag. Anton could no longer move her jaw, and her vision was blurred by red. Her silvery-grey hair was beginning to come out in clumps. Crimson blood. All over Anton's face. Fay could smell the scent, and so could Anton, strong and miserable as ever. Then... HOLY SHIT! Fay's eyes were red. Blood red. A picture of hate... for her? Then she screamed. Not like Fay - not like anyone ever. Male, and boy it was scary. "You think your life is so fucking hard, huh?! You think you know me?" Fay's voice had changed, and Anton thought she must be going insane. "Did you think I'd be afraid of you?" Another punch. "You don't know what FEAR is!" And in that moment where Fay went insane, Anton fell deep into the land of unconsciousness. Whether from fear, blood loss or both, it didn't really matter. She lay with her mouth slightly open and her eyes rolled up, seriously looking dead.</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer Against his better judgement, he followed after the scent of the three girls. It wasn't long until he got close to the dump. "Good thing I jog every morning." With piles and piles of trash everywhere, Kalib worried he might have a hard time looking for them. But then he heard the most gut-wrenching scream ever that made him screech to a halt in surprise and a bit of fear. "Holy Je- ! What in the world was that?!" Running to the junkyard's entrance, the omega cautiously walked through the trash maze in search of his pactmates. As he peeked around a corner, he saw his fellow omega hunched over Anton's body. Shock overcame him, it was like he didn't recognize Fay or that she wasn't Fay. But she was and that was the scary part. The stink of blood was everywhere and Kalib could see the red life coming out from Anton's head. He couldn't see Jesse anywhere but hoped she was alright.</s>	<\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow Fayth's fists rained down. A torrential burst of bloody knuckles smashing Anton's face in. Spatters of blood flew across Fay's face. Her crimson red eyes, glaring with fury. Inside, the true voice of Fay was trying to reach out. Stop the monster within that was created long ago and through no fault of her own. A darkness within her that was designed for survival of the fittest. If she continued to hammer Anton like this, it was likely murder would be on Fayth's hands. Then she heard footsteps come through to where she was. The mere scent of another person was able to slow her down. But she threw one more punch for good measure. Spots of blood on her face, hands drenched in it. Fay turned her gaze to Kalib and for one moment, it looked as though she was going to use him as her next target. But the color of her eyes began to shift back to normal. Rather than her human blue, the unnatural violet of both sides came through. She looked stunned when she stared at her hands. In horror. Realizing what she had done. "Oh god… Oh god! No no no!" "Kalib, help me… Please!" Her voice was a beg. So different from what she just was. Fay furiously scrubbed her hands together. "So much blood, so much blood!" Her hands ran up to her hair and Fayth couldn't stop dragging her fingers through her hair. Shaking her head. Looking at the point of sobbing. With all the will power inside of her, Fay dragged herself away and ended up curling up with her back against the other wall. "Make it stop, make it stop… Make it stop!"</s>
<\|description\|>Yvette Stowe Age: 21 Appearance: Yvette takes the appearance of a tall girl, being about 6 feet with messy brown/blonde hair and pale skin. She has a rather morning dew look to her and her eyes are constantly applied with makeup since she has grown quite attached to materialistic possessions. Without the eye makeup she has noticeably smaller eyes with dark circles from her lack of sleep. Though she has a rather jittery appearance, Yvette is actually quite lax and laid back. Species/Occupation: Hunter Background: They lived blissfully unaware of their surroundings, as happy as an average middle class family could be. What more could they want? They had everything; A house by the country side, two children, and a family pet to fill in that last missing hole in their heart. It was all so perfect, so perfect that even Yvette's parents sensed something was off... Yet they continued on, swimming in their ignorance and skipping on with life. Yvette was an average girl, with average grades, an average lifestyle, and an average family. She would always come home from school to greet her mother and father, whom would sit at the porch, anticipating the arrival of their precious children. Her mother was a simple nurse, while her father was a plumber. Though their jobs weren't too great, they made enough to keep their family happy and healthy. When had it happened? She didn't remember... But what she did remember were the faces of her parents as she was shoved away into the tight crevices of the basement stairs. It... Whatever it was, had decided to prey on her family. Her family that was just unlucky on that fateful night. She and her brother were discovered by investigators covered in their own vomit and urine, both children a sobbing mess. Her brother, barely being 3 years old had already been traumatized by the events that took place at their home. Thankfully, their uncle Roger took them in. Yvette's father warned her about him, how he was schizophrenic, and did odd things. But it turned out that his ramblings had ended up to be true, and what actually killed her parents was an adult werewolf. Revenge is what she had wanted, and so that is what her uncle had given her. She was trained underneath his wing, and soon prospered and surpassed that old crazy fool. When she was old enough, she left her brother in the care of her aunt, and went elsewhere to put her skills to use. Relationships:Dimitri Kozlov and Thomas Young: supposedly all of their relationships started in Alaska. She had ran into both of them leaving the state, when she was rather curious what their business was waddling about so late, she had decided to tag along on their adventures, seeing as they had somewhat common goals.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir ~Anton~ Anton, piercing Ryan with a stony glare, yelled (clearly already drunk), "In your opinion!" She wrenched her vodka from his hands, pouring in three Fireside Flamers and the vodka in at once. She gave a high-pitch laugh, and glugged down the rest of her drinks. Licking her lips - and wiggling her eyebrows at Ryan - she ordered their strongest Vodka. But why bother? It was like the weakest thing Anton had ever had. That's why she ordered so much. She slunk out of sight from Carlson, wishing she had done this while drinking the Vodka from Ryan. As she downed the rest of the super weak Vodka, she slunk away to the girl's toilets. As Anton made her way into the toilet, she puked straight away. Bawling her eyes out, she poured the remains of the alcohol down the toilet u-bend - unluckily forgetting to flush.</s> <\|message\|>Dimitri Kozlov He had been expecting it, honestly. The man had been expecting the anonymously scouted Werewolf cavern to be...stank, but this was a bit above what he had previously assumed. A figure stood in the dark of the forest, dark blue - or were they black, eyes narrowed as he peered into the lip of a shady, unassuming cave. On the cave's entrance, deep claw marks grazed along the rock, apparently by razor-sharp wolf nails, but this wasn't what made him pause. No...it was the pure amount of stink that came out of the cave. It smelled...like wet, furry dog, a dog that had been decomposing in the desert sun for the past few months, without disintegrating. There was also the smell of shit, piss, and blood, but the blood seemed fresh, while the other scents were stale. Stale, but still there. The figure twitched, and finally got the feeling of his nose back into place. The figure was tall, a bit taller than most Americans, with a muscular build, even obvious from under the dark clothing he wore. The clothing was tough; a form-fitting, long-sleeved black shirt, black gloves, dark, rugged jeans, and dark brown combat boots that held two straps on both sides, the long, metal hilt of two knives evident in the straps. A studded belt was wrapped around his waist, and it held numerous, compact black pouches on each loop; although, what was in the pouches, was a mystery. The man's face held the scruffy remains of a shaven beard, and his close-cutted, dark blonde hair blended in well with his surroundings. In his gloved right fist, he held a razor-sharp, jagged combat knife, the silver metal of the knife not even glinting in the moonlight, while, in his right hand, a dark black pistol was evident. His eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses, and although most would make a snarky, annoying joke about wearing sunglasses at night, these sunglasses obviously had multiple uses, the most prominent one being that it allowed him to see as clear as day, even in the night. Not to mention that it hid his eyes, allowing him to stare and focus on things/people without anyone seeing. The man gripped his combat knife tighter, while his finger edged over the trigger of his pistol. He took a glance at the motorcycle, practically invisible in the darkness, hidden nearby. Without a second thought, he silently dashed into the cave. _______________________________________ Werewolves were strong beings, but wild, unrefined...and generally unskilled. Dimitri cleanly slammed a stone-hard fore-arm against the snarling wolf's swing, his arm wrapping around the other beast's arm, while his knife-hand darted forward, the silver, razor-sharp blade easily tearing through fur and flesh to reach deep within the beast's heart. Kicking it away, the Russian Hunter watched dispassionately as the beastial wolf slowly formed back into the dead, wild form of a hairy, dirty man. This pack of wolves, hidden in the forest and mountains near Greyville, was one of the disgusting packs that preyed on innocent humans for no reason, other than their maddening lust for food, glory, and worthlessness. All around him, in one of the cave's stony areas, the bodies of gutted, stabbed, and generally dead werewolves littered the floor. Gas was slick on the stone ground, and as Dimitri began to walk away, one hand in his pocket, the Hunter flicked his cigarette - a guilty, once a month pleasure - and sped up slightly as it landed in the gas. The rev of a sleek motorcycle blasted through the mountains, as the cave collapsed in on itself, the fire having spread to take over the rocky maze.</s> <\|message\|>Ryan Jameson "Special's not up yet," Ryan said to Avery, watching as Anton downed her vile concoction and demanded more. Ryan just shook his head and put the whole bottle on the counter for her. "Southern Fireballs at two-for-five tonight. Russian Reuben sandwiches for six bucks, just as bad as always." Ryan gave Avery a wide berth as she moved across the bar. It was hard enough being a waitress at a place that didn't serve alcohol. Her tips might be a little higher here, but sooner or later someone became a drunk asshole and the nights got interesting. Speaking of assholes, he pulled his phone out as it vibrated in his pocket. Heading to studio. Call tmrw? "Hey Avery, what do you buy someone when you need to say 'Sorry I've been an asshole lately?'" But Ryan didn't stick around to hear the answer to that one. Anton had already plowed through the potato-based jet fuel he'd given her and was making for the ladies room. "Oh fuckberries." Ryan slipped out from behind the bar, following in Anton's wake until she went into the ladies room. And he dared not cross that threshold. "Anton," Ryan yelled, pounding the door. "Anton, I can hear you puking in there! Flush the damn toilet this time, all right?"</s> <\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow In the darkness of the clear sky night, Fayth held the last of a cigarette to her lips. Taking one last, long and smooth drag. The bright orange glow burned away as she tossed it to the ground. Blowing out a puff of smoke that hazed up in front of her face, drifting up into the nothingness above. She crushed the cigarette underneath her foot, grinding it against asphalt. Looking at The Backhouse as it began to fill with the familiar faces of her new pack. Fayth watched them carefully. Even those who were human. In today's world, knowing who to trust and who needed to be watched was a necessity. The only problem with that was one thing: everyone needed to be watched. As the new Omega of the tribe, her hardened gaze needed to be focused as ever. While this pack had survived and kept great numbers in the death rate, it seemed to her that they had grown too relaxed. Ryan had his stubborn, infuriating ways. His human boyfriend was becoming a problem of sorts. No one could know about their secrets otherwise everyone's life was in jeopardy. Most importantly, her own life would be in trouble. Fayth wasn't going to let anyone get in the way of her own survival. Then there was Anton and her foolish habits. Her sorrows and depression. Instead of getting on with her life, Anton had decided to drown herself in the venomous belly of the worst snake of all: alcohol. Not that Fay didn't indulge herself. She'd like to think she had herself under control when it came to drinking. Anton needed a lesson, fast. Every single one of them did. The more Fay thought about it, the more this monthly visit to the bar seemed incredibly stupid. A whole pack of werewolves in one place, conveniently on the night before the full moon. The same people. The same day. Every month. It didn't take rocket science for a hunter to figure out that something was strange about this all. Everyone was so undisciplined. It's a goddamn miracle they're all alive. Fayth sighed as it was time for her to walk into the pub. She worked part time there as a bartender, but on these nights she decided to take the night off. Be on watch for her fellow wolves. And tonight she looked every bit the part she wanted to play. Her dyed blonde hair let loose flowing down her shoulders. A pair of hooped earrings in. Black heels, and a tight black dress that revealed her long smooth legs as she strutted on into the bar. Her heels clacking the entire way as she moved on in. Fay gave a brilliant smile to those who were there. Especially the men. Showing off as she moved on up to a stool at the bar and took her seat. Placing her purse on the counter. The blonde looked around and spotted Avery immediately. "Hey gorgeous! Can you help a girl out over here? I need to get cray tonight. Tipsy! Ya' know? I'll take the usual by the way." The usual being an appletini that would probably get most men laughed at if they ordered it. She claimed to hate the taste of alcohol and just wanted that sweet drink.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir ~Anton~ "Yeah, yeah." Anton muttered, whizzing around and flushing the toilet. So much for "drowning her sorrows". More like drowning sick down a toilet. She was highly regretting puking it up; once a month was far too little time to drink good strong Vodka. She mentally slapped herself for not being able to survive the Vodka, and burst out the bathroom door only to collide with Ryan pounding on the door. "Ryan! You scared the shit out of me! Look, I heard you the first time, ok? Now I need more Vodka. And please don't tell me you only got one bottle AGAIN!" She strode over to a dank table that had not been wiped properly, sat down, and waited expectantly for Ryan to bring her anything.</s>	<\|message\|>Yvette Stowe Greyville, a place that Yvette knew was packed full of werewolves. By her research, and the research of others, and established pack was located in this town, however the only problem would be fishing them out and eradicating their very existence off the face of this earth. She let out a small huff as she stared at her laptop screen. A word document filled with her theories had been sitting in front of her for the past hour while she had sat around and thought... Man, thinking was hard. The young hunter leaned back in her chair and let out a frustrated sigh as she sat up and ran her fingers through her hair. "Dimitri might be up to something." Yvette murmured. He was already taking the initiative, in fact he probably might have already done something catastrophic. She shook her head lightly and paced about her apartment room, thinking of things to do before she would actually start heading out into the forests for late night hunting. Ah, well she could grab a drink? It wouldn't hurt to participate in normal activities once and awhile? With that thought in mind, Yvette gathered her hair up into a bun, put on a leather jacket to relieve herself of the cold winds and left her apartment to satisfy her taste for drinking. The young woman slipped into her sleek black Camaro, the trunk already filled with the appropriate weaponry for hunting, and drove off. Yvette took the fast and edgy way to the bar by speeding past signs which would probably end up with her mailbox stuffed full of tickets for disobeying the town's traffic laws. No matter, she could pay it off in due time. ---- The Hunter pulled up near the bar and exited her car, her hands stuffed into her pockets as she slid through the entrance and settled down at the bar counter. Well, since she was alone, maybe she should pester Dimitri? Yvette pulled out her phone and sent him a quick text. Lmao ay, cum 2 duh bar.</s>
<\|description\|>Yvette Stowe Age: 21 Appearance: Yvette takes the appearance of a tall girl, being about 6 feet with messy brown/blonde hair and pale skin. She has a rather morning dew look to her and her eyes are constantly applied with makeup since she has grown quite attached to materialistic possessions. Without the eye makeup she has noticeably smaller eyes with dark circles from her lack of sleep. Though she has a rather jittery appearance, Yvette is actually quite lax and laid back. Species/Occupation: Hunter Background: They lived blissfully unaware of their surroundings, as happy as an average middle class family could be. What more could they want? They had everything; A house by the country side, two children, and a family pet to fill in that last missing hole in their heart. It was all so perfect, so perfect that even Yvette's parents sensed something was off... Yet they continued on, swimming in their ignorance and skipping on with life. Yvette was an average girl, with average grades, an average lifestyle, and an average family. She would always come home from school to greet her mother and father, whom would sit at the porch, anticipating the arrival of their precious children. Her mother was a simple nurse, while her father was a plumber. Though their jobs weren't too great, they made enough to keep their family happy and healthy. When had it happened? She didn't remember... But what she did remember were the faces of her parents as she was shoved away into the tight crevices of the basement stairs. It... Whatever it was, had decided to prey on her family. Her family that was just unlucky on that fateful night. She and her brother were discovered by investigators covered in their own vomit and urine, both children a sobbing mess. Her brother, barely being 3 years old had already been traumatized by the events that took place at their home. Thankfully, their uncle Roger took them in. Yvette's father warned her about him, how he was schizophrenic, and did odd things. But it turned out that his ramblings had ended up to be true, and what actually killed her parents was an adult werewolf. Revenge is what she had wanted, and so that is what her uncle had given her. She was trained underneath his wing, and soon prospered and surpassed that old crazy fool. When she was old enough, she left her brother in the care of her aunt, and went elsewhere to put her skills to use. Relationships:Dimitri Kozlov and Thomas Young: supposedly all of their relationships started in Alaska. She had ran into both of them leaving the state, when she was rather curious what their business was waddling about so late, she had decided to tag along on their adventures, seeing as they had somewhat common goals.</s> <\|message\|>Yvette Stowe "The women want to get all in your pants, Dimitri." Yvette had a sly smirk as she sipped her beer, sparing the woman who catcalled him a glance. She shrugged her shoulders, and soon her gaze drifted and settled onto the bleeding figure. "How casual... Wait..." She whispered. The young woman's eyes narrowed as she had realized who that bleeding man was. She nudged Dimitri and pointed over at the lad, her voicing growing to a low whisper. "It's Thomas..." Yvette didn't know why he thought that it'd be okay to nonchalantly show up at a bar to drink... But whatever he decided, it was kind of stupid. "Mkayy... Well, I'm just gonna..." She slipped out of her stool to approach Thomas. "Welp, time to see him out."</s> <\|message\|>Nanix Erka Nanix Nanix frowned a bit. He was in a mood, huh? She put on a brave face, hoping not to look disappointed "Alright then" She turned away, going to serve anyone else who was at the bar</s> <\|message\|>Dimitri Kozlov Dimitri stared down at the cooled water, his lips pulling into a small smirk of it's own at the 'Hey boy' from the girl across the bar. However, despite this, his mind was running a mile a second, the man easily returning his gaze to the drink down in front of him. Something didn't sit right with him... Thomas must have had an accident, that much was evident, but he had only heard rumors of the wild pack miles away from Greyville, back in the mountains that he had just eradicated...so whom, and what, had the other man been hunting? A random wanderer that had gotten too feisty during the full moon light? An old werewolf that wanted one more bout before he keeled over and died? No...Thomas was too skilled for that; he wouldn't get injured by an old, waning beast. Not to mention that not a lot of people seemed surprise at the blood. Gripping the cold cup with one calloused, gloved hand, Dimitri took a long sip, leaning back at the bar and stretching his arms above his head. His leather jacket was made from a pilfered Kevlar alloy, capable enough to stop a wolf's razor-sharp fangs and claws with minimal injury...not to mention he had an old family friend that tailored his clothing and weapons, for only a small amount of funding, which was easy with the wealth his father had managed to accumulate over time. Right now, however, the jacket was making the already warm room a bit hot, so Dimitri took it off, rolling it up and resting it on the counter beside his drink. This showed the tears in his long-sleeved shirt, and a few splatters of wolf blood, but the blood had long since dried, and the scent was practically non-existant. Just to be safe, he rolled the sleeves up his forearms, revealing long, jagged scars along the skin. Dimitri threw his jacket over his shoulder, and finally decided to stand. Walking over to Thomas and Yvette, the Russian Hunter smirked slightly larger, clasping Thomas on the shoulder that held the injured arm. "Ты полный отстой." He commented, his voice's accent becoming a Hell of a lot thicker due to him using his mother tongue. Dimitri sat down beside him, slapping Thomas lightly on the cheek to make him alert. "Go to the hospital." His voice was blunt and direct.</s> <\|message\|>Jesse Williams Everything went as expected. People poured into the bar, both familiar faces and curiously unknown ones. Anton was at full speed too. Already. While it certainly took some strong juice to get her going, it never took long. While picking up the glass of cheap booze - "Thanks a bunch, cutie!" - Jesse decided to keep an eye on her situation. Always payed off to stick to the drunks, always came with lots of opportunities. "Picking on people you think are weaker than you, again?" While she didn't exactly sweep the room, her sense of smell and hearing got her a pretty good idea about who of the pack participated in the lil' monthly get-together, but somehow she still had missed picking up on Fayth. Odd, she thought, before the full extend of the blondes little 'poking fun/insult' hit her. Causing her to grind her teeth for a brief moment, before she put up the most sickeningly sweet and obviously fake smile. "Somebody's gotta pay the tab, right?" Her retort was anything if not odd. Confusing for anyone who didn't know her, no doubt. Jesse loved to poke fun at how uncomplicated it was to simply beat some poor sod into the pavement and take their cash, when the other pack members tried to live a genuine, honest life with a secure income like normal people do. To the average person she'd just seem like a careless thug thriving in the utter absence of the public law in Greyville, but to the pack she was a special kind of pest. One that didn't bother to fit into human society and shamelessly abused her unfair advantages to her personal gain. It was a thorn in everyone's side, specifically for those who masked their true nature and worked hard for their paycheck. She never bothered to hide her mugging deeds either, and often enough described them with a certain pride, just to rub it in and annoy the others even more. For Jesse, there was nothing negative about picking on weaklings. Survival of the fittest in its up-to-date form, as she liked to argument. Despite the carefree and self-ironical answer, it gnawed on her. The whole woman gnawed on her. She had planned to get back on Fay for a while now, for the beating she received. All it took was an (un)lucky encounter at night...preferably with two other betas, if not three. She had just to work out who'd qualify for the job and how to rile them up against the omega. Not an easy feat for someone who is generally making enemies left and right. Looking after Fay for just a second, Jess noticed Mori after completely missing her arrival as well. She made a mental note to pick a place that didn't put her back towards the door next time and gave her a respectful nod during a brief moment of eye-contact. When the bleeding guy entered the bar, she barely reacted. The intense smell of large quantities of blood didn't leave her completely unphased, but she managed to behave and not show it. Letting off steam earlier helped a great deal, too. Contrary to the general awe the bleeding man seemed to inspire, she payed him an impressed whistle. From one blood-splattered person to another. The night was still young and full of opportunity, and Jess was not nearly lit enough to pick a fight with someone her own size yet, so she decided to sit tight, sip cheap vodka and eavesdrop on Fay and Mori for the time being.</s> <\|message\|>Thomas Young Thomas His beer finally arriving to it, taking a long gulp before stopping and gasping for breath, he looked around and more people were giving him glances or even worried looks. He simply shrugs it off, he did however, raise an eyebrow at how some of the patrons began getting a bit more fidgety after seeing him, well specifically, his arm. "Probably the moonshine." he thought to himself before taking a quick gulp of the beer. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a familiar figure, though could barely recognize her because of the beer or the loss of blood, eitherway, "Oh, Yvette, is that you or am I starting to see things?" he asked her outloud with a wide grin, "How's it goin?" "Ты полный отстой." he heard from a Tall Russian man, with a really thick accent, "Is that Dimitri? No way." he utters but then gets a light slap on the cheek followed by, "Go to the hospital." "Well, hello to you to Dimitri, got even bulkier last time I saw ya', how is that even humanly possible?" he asked, still maintaining that stupid grin on his face. "This little scratch, I'll get it checked out soon, lemme just finish my beer" he said to him, but leans in and whispers in a serious tone, "Did you notice? Some of em' are eyeing my arm and even getting fidgety." A grin formed on his already smiling face, "Hah, fucking with you man, course there's no Wolves in here eh?" he said finally and finished the last drop of his drink, he get's up then stretches, and he also notices the blood spots and gives a bigger tip than usual. Right before leaving, he notices Fay, waving his injured hand at her caused the blood to smear on Dimitri's back, Yvette's face and a random customers shirt, bowing a quick apology to them, he quickly ran away and says to Fay right before, "Well, uhm, sorry I'll be leaving you with the mess, there's a tip on the table." After saying that sentence, Thomas runs out of the bar, hearing what sounded like a whistle towards him before hitting the door. Right after leaving the door and losing his balance, there was a beep that came on his phone, a message, but with Thomas being out for the count, he couldn't check it.</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer Taking his sweet time to get to the bar, Kalib walked with a pop song beat in his step and in no hurry to join the others. The Californian embraced the chill of the night air, savoring its freshness and relative familiarity. "The guys should be having a blast by the time I get there." He thought to himself, ticking off the names of his fellow pack mates as he spotted some dark drippings on the sidewalk. "Or, maybe the "fun" is just getting started. I really hope this wasn't Jesse again." With a sigh he began to jog his way to the bar, hoping to god that a fight hasn't started when a man came crashing through the bar door. The scent of blood overcame Kalib. "Whoa!" He exclaimed, dodging before the bloody man fell on him. Sure he was used to seeing guys literally falling out of the bar drunk off their rockers but what the hell?! "Hey, are you okay?" He questioned, careful not to step on the stranger or get blood on himself. "Say something, dude!" For a moment he glanced into the bar window and spotted Carlson and Mori --relieved the alphas were there. His eyes quickly scanned to find Jesse at the bar and thankfully not looking like she was the one to bloody this guy at his feet. Kalib turned his attention back to the guy but ready to jump into the building for some help.</s>	<\|message\|>Yvette Stowe "Whoa hey!" Yvette yelped as Thomas had attempted to walk himself. "Don't be stupi-" She was about to grab onto his shirt collar, but instead someone had caught him. "Uh..." Maybe what Thomas was rambling about was true? Her Uncle was right... And he was far from being sane. She immediately ran to her ally's side, yanked him away from the other male and dipped her head down. "He's in my care, sorry for the trouble." She cleared her throat, gave the man a long stare, and shook her head. "Uh, fuck. I need a med kit, because there's no way he's going to survive a ride to the hospital like this. Do me a favor, go inside and start screaming or something." Yvette propped him up at the wall and removed her jacket so that she'd be able to tear a part of her shirt to at least delay the bleeding slightly while whoever had so decided to help would actually do something. The phone in her back jeans pocket buzzed, making her raise a brow and check real quick before scoffing and setting it to the side so that she would be able to focus on her injured ally. "God damn... You really fucked yourself over." She murmured, shaking her head lightly as she wrapped the torn piece of cloth over his wound. "Please hurry up with the kit?"</s>
<\|description\|>Yvette Stowe Age: 21 Appearance: Yvette takes the appearance of a tall girl, being about 6 feet with messy brown/blonde hair and pale skin. She has a rather morning dew look to her and her eyes are constantly applied with makeup since she has grown quite attached to materialistic possessions. Without the eye makeup she has noticeably smaller eyes with dark circles from her lack of sleep. Though she has a rather jittery appearance, Yvette is actually quite lax and laid back. Species/Occupation: Hunter Background: They lived blissfully unaware of their surroundings, as happy as an average middle class family could be. What more could they want? They had everything; A house by the country side, two children, and a family pet to fill in that last missing hole in their heart. It was all so perfect, so perfect that even Yvette's parents sensed something was off... Yet they continued on, swimming in their ignorance and skipping on with life. Yvette was an average girl, with average grades, an average lifestyle, and an average family. She would always come home from school to greet her mother and father, whom would sit at the porch, anticipating the arrival of their precious children. Her mother was a simple nurse, while her father was a plumber. Though their jobs weren't too great, they made enough to keep their family happy and healthy. When had it happened? She didn't remember... But what she did remember were the faces of her parents as she was shoved away into the tight crevices of the basement stairs. It... Whatever it was, had decided to prey on her family. Her family that was just unlucky on that fateful night. She and her brother were discovered by investigators covered in their own vomit and urine, both children a sobbing mess. Her brother, barely being 3 years old had already been traumatized by the events that took place at their home. Thankfully, their uncle Roger took them in. Yvette's father warned her about him, how he was schizophrenic, and did odd things. But it turned out that his ramblings had ended up to be true, and what actually killed her parents was an adult werewolf. Revenge is what she had wanted, and so that is what her uncle had given her. She was trained underneath his wing, and soon prospered and surpassed that old crazy fool. When she was old enough, she left her brother in the care of her aunt, and went elsewhere to put her skills to use. Relationships:Dimitri Kozlov and Thomas Young: supposedly all of their relationships started in Alaska. She had ran into both of them leaving the state, when she was rather curious what their business was waddling about so late, she had decided to tag along on their adventures, seeing as they had somewhat common goals.</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer Kalib let the woman take her bleeding friend from him and nodded. "Right," and headed inside. He recognized the black-haired bartender and ran to her. "Hey, call an ambulance. Some guy just fell outside and he's covered in blood! His friend it out there with him but he really needs to get to the hospital, and fast." Keeping his voice calm, he tried not to make anyone panic. He told himself in his head that the guy will be okay so long as 911 comes.</s> <\|message\|>Dimitri Kozlov Dimitri scowled once he saw the guy ask for the ambulance, rather than getting a medkit, as asked. Maintaining his temper; which he was rather easy at, the Russian got up from where he was leaning on the wall, nearby, moving towards the bar's counter. Easily sliding over, he quickly located the red and white medkit, underneath the counter's tabletop. Grabbing it, Dimitri slid back over the counter, long legs quickly striding him over to where his two accomplices were leaning against the building, outside. His sunglasses were back on, hiding his eyes, but it also allowed him to see easily, despite the darkness from the nightsky. Crouching down, Dimitri handed Yvette the first-aid kit, before taking a few steps back, so that he wouldn't get in her way. First-aid was definitely not his forte, and he knew that Yvette had training in it...most-likely from her delusional Uncle. "Dumbass..." He muttered underneath his voice, once again, but it was unknown on who the insult was directed towards.</s> <\|message\|>Nanix Erka Nanix watched Kalib come and tell her to call 911, then Demitiri come and take the kit. "... something tells me that guy has it" She pointed to him. "you want a drink?"</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer "Huh?" He turned, seeing the tail end of a hulking man leave with something red and white. ". . . . Oh. Er, okay. A rum and cola, please. . ." Kalib said, awkwardly seating himself at the bar. He felt like a spaz for running in like that, and a blockhead for not going for the first aid kit. Attempting not to look as embarrassed as he felt, he leaned against the counter. "How's the night going for ya? Got a lot of tips?" With the multiple times the pack has gone drinking before the full moon, Kalib had began to favor this bartender more then her co-workers and silently scolded himself for not asking her name after all this time. Seeking a peek over his shoulder, he wanted to see if anyone was staring or, at least, not noticing him. "Man, you mucked this one up real good. How will the pack expect to rely on you when you're being stupid and can't handle getting the first aid kit." Chastised his mind. It was one thing being one of the younger werewolves in the pack; its quite another being a young omega who needs to do his job.</s> <\|message\|>Avery Wind Avery listened patiently as Fayth talked and talked about the boys and getting tipsy, her lips almost never stopped moving. It could be good though, at times. Especially when things got uncomfortably silent. Then Fayth mentioned something about a gross guy who needed help, and Avery looked around, her tired eyes frantic. Yet...She saw no one. Avery turned back to Fayth and squinted. "Fayth, are you sure? I don't see anyone. Did he leave, did he look confused?" She resisted the urge to rest her hand on Fayth's forehead to check for a fever. "If you're busy right now, I'll let you get back to your friend's while I make my rounds. Uhh, ladies, do you want anything? Refills, food. Anything?" She took out her little notepad, flipping it open and bringing out a mechanical pencil, covered in scratches and stickers of rainbows. "I suggest our cosmos with a strawberry topping or a lemon twist. Its delicious!"</s> <\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow Between talking about guys and keeping track of everyone at the bar, this was getting exhausting. 'Yes, I'm sure you idiot.' She thought. Tired of everyone giving her lip. Seemed everyone had something to say around here. God, putting up with Jesse and her bad habit of street fights, Mori's suspicions, Ryan's boyfriend. Fayth needed to let out a big sigh. Instead of sipping on that weak appletini like a ditzy blonde girl would, she straight chugged it down in one go. 'Fuck, that's gross.' Fayth cringed. A whiskey girl at heart. Her hand grabbed a hold of Jesse's arm and she made sure to look at her. Even if Jesse might not make eye contact, Fay kept a steady and intense gaze on her face. "We can pick up the tab in much better ways. Safer ways." Keeping in mind everyone around. "Like, I could give you such great pointers, girlie!" Flash the big smile for the cameras. Turn, pose. Then looking over at Mori, she pat her on the back. "I'll be back honey, I know you want to talk to me so so badly." Fayth looked up at Avery. "By the way, this sweetheart right here," indicating Mori, "She ordered her usual. Some juice. No alcohol can you believe it? It's like she's against fun or something." Fay turned to the door. Her scent picking up the blood easily. It made her hair rise and her heart race faster. The blood of animals, she could deal with. But humans? She wanted to stay clear of that path. It didn't lead anywhere. Nowhere except a place of tears and blood. On her way out, Fay yelled out over to Kalib. The other omega who in fact was doing just fine. Calling 911 was one half of the job, the first-aid kit was the second. "Get on the phone and call 911, alright? Sound good? Great." Fay nearly rolled her eyes click-clacking with her ridiculous heels on out the door. Once outside she caught sight of the tall, muscular Russian. He didn't look like someone anyone would like to pick a fight with. Not even a guy Fay would like to fight. Then again, if she could avoid every fight, she would. Not to mention, while Fay was coming out to check on Thomas' health (he was a solid drinking partner), the beep of his phone also interested her. A quick snatch of his cellphone could be nice. The item could sell for a few dollars. Good money. Two problems being Dmitri standing there, and Yvette also watching over him. Fay kneeled down with Yvette. "Do you know what you're doing? If you don't, say so right now and I can take over from here! I'm having an ambulance called because let's be real here guys, he def needs to get to the hospital." Fay paused for a second. Looking at Thomas who was bleeding out. "Gauze, anti-septic wipes, anti-biotic, use the goddamn gloves or risk infecting him, and hurry up and use that mother fucking adhesive tape. If you don't hurry up, I will!"</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer Catching Fay's command as she, too, left out the door, Kalib felt only a smidge better knowing another omega was here in case he messed up. He pulled out his phone and dialed emergency services, telling them the situation, and getting back to what he was doing. "If that guy really does need help, at least someone's coming." He thought, a little less dismal this time. Shoving the negative thoughts from his head, he bucked up and resolved to focus on his job. Turning in his seat, he looked about the scene with alertness. If anything else were to go wrong, he'd make sure he'd catch it (and that he didn't do it himself). It seemed that the usual suspects were at the bar that night. The alphas, a few betas, a bunch of townsfolk looking to have a good night. Even though he was at the bar, he wasn't expecting to get too drunk that night. It wouldn't be new if a few hunters would try to scope out targets a few days before the full moon and Kalib wasn't going to let anyone hurt their pack. Not on his watch.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir @Trinais ~Anton~ Anton watched Ryan walk away with hungry eyes and made herself comfy on her chair. She should really come here regularly - force Ryan into working weeks, perhaps? Anton didn't really know how she felt about Ryan. His eyes are so dreamy... She was awoken by a rapid voice in her ear. "You are done drinking." "Fuck off Carlson. I can drink as much as I intend to. Which, like all of the rest of my private life, is none of your business." Anton watched Thomas being tended to by, literally, everyone. She took this as an opportunity to get away from Carlson, and lifting herself over the bar, went into the cooler room where she found Ryan. "Hey, Ryan? I've waited long enough, where do you store my Vodka?" She began rooting through cupboards without waiting for an answer. 'Fuckin' Ryan,' she thought.</s> <\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Mori Did it only seem or was the bar really unusually loud that night? Sure, it was a rush hour, like every other month before the full moon. A pack of wolves ordering drinks, and causing minor troubles that come with that, then some other human locals, who were also more or less regular costumers in the bar. In all that crazy bunch, Mori noticed three fairy new visitors, who on a first glance seem to know each other. And yet they did not make an entrance together. That guy, who soon became the center of all the attention, bursting in the bar covered in blood, and then Mr. Muscles, as Fay called him, drinking water, while everyone around him was indulging in the mind numbing liquid. He sure seemed like a dream date for Mori, but judging from herself, she knew that you should never trust a man who does not drink alcohol, because they are probably up to something. She lost herself in thought with scanning the mysterious threesome, and completely overhead Fay's words about her not being fun due to drinking juice. When she finally got her drink, she realized all the fun had already moved outside, with the three strangers gone, and of course Fay, who seemed to take control of the situation pretty well. Strangely enough, that didn't bother Mori at all, what bothered her was the fact that Carlson was giving all the attention to Anton, who did what she knew best – victimize herself with overdrinking, and then getting all the attention for it. ''Carlson!'' she called for her partner, who didn't seem to hear her the first time. ''God dammit, Carlson!'' she called for him again, and then walked herself right next to him, right at the moment Antony managed to get away from his norturing grip. ''Something's up,'' she said through her teeth, looking at Carlson to see if he was monitoring his surroundings at all. ''Something is not right here. I can feel it.''</s>	<\|message\|>Yvette Stowe "I would prefer it if you move away..." Yvette murmured. She dug through the medical kit, working quickly to at least clot the wound so that the flow of blood would cease. "The wound isn't too harsh, however it is rather deep, but not deep enough to scratch the surface of the bone. It isn't as dire as you think, it was earlier because he did nothing but sit and drink nonchalantly as if nothing had ever happened, and during that timeframe he lost quite a bit of blood." Well, time to put her uncle's teachings into use. She rubbed her hands on her pants, slipped on the gloves the kit had given her and began to pour hydrogen peroxide onto a sterilized piece of cloth. Antibiotics were important yet surprisingly missing from the medical kit, however that could be settled at the emergency room of the hospital, for now Yvette would have to settle with simply cleaning the wound, then dressing it with a decent layer of gauze and a compression bandage from another piece of cloth. "I can drive to the hospital faster than an ambulance can arrive, so don't waste your time with calling it." Yvette closed the lit, placed it into the hands of Dimitri, then wrapped Thomas' un-injured arm over her shoulders so that she was able to slide him into the back seat of her Camaro. "I appreciate the help though." She headed over to the drivers seat and rolled down the window. "Dimitri, meet us at the hospital, afterwards we'll talk." Yvette gave him a small nod, then drove off. "This would have been a lot easier if someone had decided to go get treated instead of drink... What a pain in my ass. I'm no den mother." She grunted and slammed her fist onto her car horn, honking it violently as she whizzed past cars to make it to the hospital in a short amount of time.</s>
<\|description\|>Yvette Stowe Age: 21 Appearance: Yvette takes the appearance of a tall girl, being about 6 feet with messy brown/blonde hair and pale skin. She has a rather morning dew look to her and her eyes are constantly applied with makeup since she has grown quite attached to materialistic possessions. Without the eye makeup she has noticeably smaller eyes with dark circles from her lack of sleep. Though she has a rather jittery appearance, Yvette is actually quite lax and laid back. Species/Occupation: Hunter Background: They lived blissfully unaware of their surroundings, as happy as an average middle class family could be. What more could they want? They had everything; A house by the country side, two children, and a family pet to fill in that last missing hole in their heart. It was all so perfect, so perfect that even Yvette's parents sensed something was off... Yet they continued on, swimming in their ignorance and skipping on with life. Yvette was an average girl, with average grades, an average lifestyle, and an average family. She would always come home from school to greet her mother and father, whom would sit at the porch, anticipating the arrival of their precious children. Her mother was a simple nurse, while her father was a plumber. Though their jobs weren't too great, they made enough to keep their family happy and healthy. When had it happened? She didn't remember... But what she did remember were the faces of her parents as she was shoved away into the tight crevices of the basement stairs. It... Whatever it was, had decided to prey on her family. Her family that was just unlucky on that fateful night. She and her brother were discovered by investigators covered in their own vomit and urine, both children a sobbing mess. Her brother, barely being 3 years old had already been traumatized by the events that took place at their home. Thankfully, their uncle Roger took them in. Yvette's father warned her about him, how he was schizophrenic, and did odd things. But it turned out that his ramblings had ended up to be true, and what actually killed her parents was an adult werewolf. Revenge is what she had wanted, and so that is what her uncle had given her. She was trained underneath his wing, and soon prospered and surpassed that old crazy fool. When she was old enough, she left her brother in the care of her aunt, and went elsewhere to put her skills to use. Relationships:Dimitri Kozlov and Thomas Young: supposedly all of their relationships started in Alaska. She had ran into both of them leaving the state, when she was rather curious what their business was waddling about so late, she had decided to tag along on their adventures, seeing as they had somewhat common goals.</s> <\|message\|>Jesse Williams Jess reached the cold, refreshing outside unnoticed. The air inside the bar was stagnant as hell, but one didn't notice unless confronted with normal levels of oxygen. The young woman took a few deep breaths, looking like she simply enjoyed the prickly cold sensation. But really, she was sniffing out the trace of Fay and Anton. As soon as she picked up the scent of the latter, her strolling pace turned into a bouncy, accelerated fast-walk. Those two, together in the same place, possibly far off from possible witnesses? That had to end in a bloody mess. There was no way Anton and Fay would have a normal talk ever, Jesse thought. Too much bad blood, omega vs ex-omega tension. A great deal of that instigated by her own petty lies whenever she tried getting Anton to attack someone, no doubt. To be fair, this pairing was the most obvious target for any instigator with half a brain. Though taking her time at first, Jess soon became impatient. How far had they gone? What where they doing anyway? Did Fay maybe plan to beat up Anton tonight, in secret, so she wouldn't be able to help Jess gang up on her at the noon-beat down? As dishonorable that would be, it was not beyond Fayth. A woman did a lot of despicable things to save her face. A dirty smirk crept on Jess face at the notion, how far the shining example of an omega had fallen. The scent became stronger around the old dump. Curious place to go at night indeed. Jess felt the cold steel of her brass knuckles and clutched them in her fist, invisibly inside her pocket. She could hear two familiar voices and quietly crept around the piles of trash and junk, not silent enough to properly sneak up on someone with their sense of hearing, but not eagerly giving away her presence either.</s> <\|message\|>Anthar "Shadow Bolt" Raclaw Anthar twisted softly, not expecting the bottle to be closed so tight. It was. Failing to open it the first time, he tried a second time with more force, finally getting it opened. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Now she will think I'm weak. Trying to hide his embarrassment, Anthar smiled at Mori. "I think we're missing some cups." He turned around searching the shelves around him for cups. He spotted a few glasses sitting next to some utensils on one of the shelves. He took two and set them down on the billiard table, then he poured from the mysterious drink into both glasses. He put down the bottle and handed one glass to Mori and the other he took for himself. "Cheers!" He raised his glass high, then put the glass to his lips and took a sip. "Wow, that is some strong shit!" He exclaimed, scrunching up his face. It was stronger than that vodka Randal gave him when he turned 21. "Anyway, what is a beautiful woman like you doing alone at a bar in the middle of nowhere?" he asked. He could already feel the alcohol starting to take effect.</s> <\|message\|>Thomas Young Thomas A steady sound of beeps greeted Thomas as he woke up, the smell of slight death was in the air. Slowly opening his eyes, the sound of beeps was apparently his heart rate, and being strapped in a ton of IV and his arm practically in mummy wear, the white walls and the plain walls quickly made him realize that he was admitted at a Hospital, again. "Crap, again huh? Well whatever, haha." he said outloud to no one in particular. Noticing no one was really around, he shrugged it off "Well I was never really the popular one." he said then laughed in a slightly sad tone. Lying back down, one of the Nurses entered and became wide eyed at Thomas, quickly running off and fetching one of the doctors. The doctor came in and told him about how he was lucky and the like for surviving with that deep of a wound and blood loss, Well that's not the first time I've heard that. he thought to himself. After a bit of surprised faces and condemning tone about him not going to the hospital immediately. Thomas just nodded and smiled and they seem to let him off the hook, though one of the Nurses has been glancing at him frequently with a tinge of red. He raised an eyebrow to this and thought, Must be imagining it. After a bit of more talking and the like, they finally let him rest, with a sigh he lied back down on his bed and was about to close his eyes, reaching for his phones where he thought it was, patting around the area he quickly became anxious. That phone... It fucking has all the hunters information. Where did I lose it? Calling one of the Nurses, the nurse who came was the one who Thomas thought she was glancing at, though she didn't meet his gaze, he sternly said to her, "Would you mind getting the woman who brought me here, right now, there's an issue." with only a wondering gaze, she nodded and disappeared into the hallway. Sighing, he lied back down again.</s> <\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow The Black "Follow him." Sound on the other end of the phone. "Your wounds will heal. Follow him." Fire glowed around the face of a muscular, powerful man. Scruffy face with the look of a man who had seen far too many winters. Where smiles went to die. Inside one of the caves they found in Greyville, The Black stood amongst his other spies. The entire pack was not present. Just The Black, his son Eric, and another of his trustworthy scouts; Jake. His follower who had escaped Thomas' traps and inflicted wounds on him was Deon. "Deon. I won't ask again." Silence on the other end, then sound. "Good. Text me the address of the hospital he ends up at." Click, the phone slipped into his pocket. One step ahead of everything. The Black turned to his son. "Put the fire out. We're moving out. I'll need you to keep watch at the hospital for suspicious humans. Notify me immediately." "Are you going to kill him?" "No. He might lead us right to your sister." "If she's even here." "I've been a tracker for many years. The trail continues here… I need to put fear and doubt in these hunters anyway." The orange glow within the cave snuffed out. Darkness as the men swiftly ran through the woodlands of Greyville. Running with unnatural grace and speed through the forests. Seeing in the night what no one else could see. Smelling and hearing what humans would miss. Soon the text came rolling in. Not long after, The Black appeared at the hospital. "Look casual." To this, Eric and Jake pulled out cigarettes and smoked. Looking around at anyone walking in or out of the hospital. The Black trotted forward. Boots on his feet. Dark jeans and a tight black shirt. His eyes an unnatural golden color that he couldn't turn off anymore. A trait he had gained from killing too many people. Though, he attributed it to a medical issue. Still, The Black did not fear to be seen by hunters like this. He disappeared into darkness much to quickly. The Black entered the hospital and exchanged looks with Deon who acted as a waiting visitor, sitting on one chair. Hiding the wound on his back and his leg. Healing quick. "Excuse me, my son was just admitted in here." "Name?" "Young. Marcus Young. His name is…" "Thomas?" "Yes." "One moment." The nurse left the desk for a moment. The Black leaned over the desk to see her computer. Thomas' information posted up. Including the room number. Within a moment, The Black was gone as she arrived back at the desk. Moving away and heading up an elevator. He walked down the hall. Boots slammed against the ground with heavy, ominous thuds. Arriving at his room and opening the door once Thomas's nurse had left. The Black strolled in. Grabbing a chair and taking a seat. "Hello, Thomas." The Black pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. "You don't mind, do you?" He didn't care. The Black lit the cigarette and smoked near Thomas's bed. Even when he lit the cig, his golden glare never left Thomas. "Those are some wounds on you. Must've been one hell of a knife fight." Deep breath. "Unless it was an animal you were hunting. A wolf maybe…"</s> <\|message\|>Thomas Young Thomas As he was lying down on his bed, the constant beeps of his heart rate became white noise to him. He was about to fall back to sleep due to the comfy bed he was lying on, this was till an immense feeling of dread filled his being. He looked around and saw a tall, figure, his very presence oozed fear, not towards him, but to others around him. His presence choked up Thomas, if there were ever alarms in your head that tells you something is dangerous, this was the time. He entered the room, then strides to a chair and quickly gets comfortable. Thomas' fight or flight kicked in and his adrenaline started to pump. "Hello, Thomas." said the tall frame with a cold and menacing tone, "You don't mind, do you?" while lighting a cigarette, with no apparent care for Thomas' consent. His Golden eyes was an oddity that perturbed Thomas, he couldn't help but feel a bit unnerved. "Those are some wounds on you. Must've been one hell of a knife fight." he said with a deep breath, glare never leaving his own, "Unless it was an animal you were hunting. A wolf maybe…" Through general conception and judging by his demeanor and cold eyes, he had already figured out this intimidating stranger was infact a werewolf. "Who are you." was the only phrase Thomas was able to choke out, practically glaring at him at this point.</s> <\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Oh, for God's sake, you don't have to pretend. I know you hunters aren't as strong. She thought while observing him struggle with opening that bottle. While he was searching for the cups, Mori listened to the sounds coming from the bar, trying to distinguish what was going on in there. Since there was no sound of screaming, yelling or breaking things, she concluded that everything was alright. With hidden disgust she took the cup Anthar had given her, and clenched her fingers around it, wondering how could she get herself out of drinking alcohol. She followed Anthar's example, and raised her cup high in the air, only to then lower it again, far from her lips. His particular facial expression was enough proof to her, that she made a right decision not taking a sip. If Jet Fuel did that to him, God knows what would have done to Mori. But since she couldn't just stand there with a full cup in her hands, she had to act quickly. After his question, she took a few steps forward, and landed her hand gently on his chest. She licked her lips while observing his, and then raise her gaze up to his eyes. ''Me? Oh, I just come here to lure good looking men into this room, and then tricking them into drinking that awefully strong shit of a vodka,'' she smiled temptingly, sliding her hands to the sides of his waist as she was slowly to hug him.</s>	<\|message\|>Yvette Stowe "Ahem..." Yvette cleared her throat as she leaned on the doorframe, her eyes glancing back and forth between Thomas and the mysterious man. "You're no guest here... Even I know that." She said, glancing down at her nails, then back up at the man in his seat. "Should I call security and take you out?" The girl closed the door behind her and stood near Thomas' bed, her hand resting on the plastic arm. The nurse had managed to call her in on time, and thankfully before things seemingly grew dark and heated... This man... Whomever he was, he was not here to make friends, obviously. This raised suspicions... A lot in fact. "Mhm..." The young woman pulled a chair of her own and sat down with her legs crossed and on her lap. "Isn't this quaint?" She said, giving them both a small smile before frowning and leaning back. "Do I have to call security or are you able to leave yourself, sir?"</s>
<\|description\|>Jesse Williams Age: 24 Appearance: Human, werewolf or hunter?: Beta Werewolf Background: Jesse was born as a werewolf and raised as a werewolf, with all the hardships of being the youngest cub in the pack. She was the last 'naturally' born member of her old pack and thus lived a life at the low end of the pecking order for more than twenty years. This majorly contributed to her bully-esque character and the rebellious demeanor that comes with it. Jesse's old pack was essentially the werewolf equivalent to human gypsies. They wandered between cities frequently, always claiming a set 'turf' for a while before moving on to the next city or town. They were loud and aggressive and drawing general attention required them to change locations before people asked too many questions. As one would expect, an almost permanently drunk crowd of rowdy werewolves didn't interact in the smoothest ways with other packs, so fights with other covenants were not unheard of. After building a bad reputation among their kin for some years, warm welcomes from other packs were somewhat rare. The pack eventually dissolved when their alphas fell to rebelling omegas, and said omegas succumbed to their injuries afterwards. With nobody to lead the pack, they fell apart in less than a month and scattered in all directions. During her time at the wandering pack, Jesse always was the weakest link. She was never physically weak, on the contrary - being bullied by a pack of aggressive and highly violent werewolves put her in a fairly well-conditioned state. However, she lacked a certain finesse, the dexterity to use her power for anything more than a pair of bone-breaking fists. Her defense against her fellows lacked unpredictability or skill, she never made it past being a brutal thug and this pack lacked all forms of benevolence, so nobody trained her. In the past, new werewolves were born into the pack who would take over the position of the general 'victim', but the digress of werewolf birth damned Jesse to a life at the bottom of the food chain. As a result of twenty years worth of punishment for being the youngest cub, she turned into a fairly violent, erratic slugger herself. Being superior to humans only, she let off all the steam from being subdued on human street gangs and thugs. She always tries to act reasonably 'human' around them - masking her unnaturally strong punches by using baseball bats for example, broken bones from a bat swing are a lot less unusual than from a casual backhand after all. Mostly taking it out on gangs also let her avoid unnecessary attention, police forces never really care when the victims of a brawl have comprehensive criminal records. Despite all the precaution, she has a few murder-stains on her slate, none of which can be connected to her directly though. Another feature she gained during her time at the wandering pack is the affection for her 'turf'. To this day, she considers the area she lives in as her property and takes the right to represent the law. In other words, to beat shady characters into a bloody pulp at will. This and her general fixation on human interaction (playing 'gang wars' with the lesser creatures and such) is usually met with disapproval from other wolves. It also gets her in trouble frequently as it draws attention of less benevolent wolf packs or hunters. Beyond her highly ranked position in human gang interactions, she's still a lowlife in werewolf society. Jesse is a coward that doesn't hesitate to switch to the winning side in times of conflict. She's the kind of person who instigates mutiny, stays out of the actual fight and then gangs up on the already defeated party. Though she has little more to offer than brute force in a combat scenario, she's by no means stupid and constantly tries to manipulate people around her for her own advantage. After the downfall of the wandering pack, Jesse lived alone and on the streets for a while. She didn't really encourage the humans to, but a gang formed around her. Mostly just cowardish thugs who hid behind the seemingly insane but undefeatable woman, but Jesse never discouraged them either and enjoyed being admired for a change. It sure was a hell of a lot better than being on the receiving end all the time, she thought. Coincidentally, the area she poached in at the time was Greyville. The resident pack noticed her puppetry with the humans and approached her eventually. In order to minimize the chaos Jesse could cause and driven by the omnipresent decline in birth rate, they negotiated her joining the pack. A crucial condition was that she would dissolve her gang and swear to never join or form one ever again. A condition that didn't exclude the option to wreak havoc on human lowlife every now and then. Coming from a pack that didn't put any value in cohesion and only coexisted for the sense of security a group of wolves offers, Jesse doesn't quite fit into the greyville pack. While she respects the alphas and obeys most omegas, she spends most of her time interacting with the pack in petty fights. Most notably, she got into a scuffle with Fay at some point that didn't end in her favor. The woman even joined the pack right afterwards, as an omega no less, setting the stage for an exemplary hate-love relationship. With a heavy focus on the hate-part.</s> <\|message\|>Ryan Jameson "Special's not up yet," Ryan said to Avery, watching as Anton downed her vile concoction and demanded more. Ryan just shook his head and put the whole bottle on the counter for her. "Southern Fireballs at two-for-five tonight. Russian Reuben sandwiches for six bucks, just as bad as always." Ryan gave Avery a wide berth as she moved across the bar. It was hard enough being a waitress at a place that didn't serve alcohol. Her tips might be a little higher here, but sooner or later someone became a drunk asshole and the nights got interesting. Speaking of assholes, he pulled his phone out as it vibrated in his pocket. Heading to studio. Call tmrw? "Hey Avery, what do you buy someone when you need to say 'Sorry I've been an asshole lately?'" But Ryan didn't stick around to hear the answer to that one. Anton had already plowed through the potato-based jet fuel he'd given her and was making for the ladies room. "Oh fuckberries." Ryan slipped out from behind the bar, following in Anton's wake until she went into the ladies room. And he dared not cross that threshold. "Anton," Ryan yelled, pounding the door. "Anton, I can hear you puking in there! Flush the damn toilet this time, all right?"</s> <\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow In the darkness of the clear sky night, Fayth held the last of a cigarette to her lips. Taking one last, long and smooth drag. The bright orange glow burned away as she tossed it to the ground. Blowing out a puff of smoke that hazed up in front of her face, drifting up into the nothingness above. She crushed the cigarette underneath her foot, grinding it against asphalt. Looking at The Backhouse as it began to fill with the familiar faces of her new pack. Fayth watched them carefully. Even those who were human. In today's world, knowing who to trust and who needed to be watched was a necessity. The only problem with that was one thing: everyone needed to be watched. As the new Omega of the tribe, her hardened gaze needed to be focused as ever. While this pack had survived and kept great numbers in the death rate, it seemed to her that they had grown too relaxed. Ryan had his stubborn, infuriating ways. His human boyfriend was becoming a problem of sorts. No one could know about their secrets otherwise everyone's life was in jeopardy. Most importantly, her own life would be in trouble. Fayth wasn't going to let anyone get in the way of her own survival. Then there was Anton and her foolish habits. Her sorrows and depression. Instead of getting on with her life, Anton had decided to drown herself in the venomous belly of the worst snake of all: alcohol. Not that Fay didn't indulge herself. She'd like to think she had herself under control when it came to drinking. Anton needed a lesson, fast. Every single one of them did. The more Fay thought about it, the more this monthly visit to the bar seemed incredibly stupid. A whole pack of werewolves in one place, conveniently on the night before the full moon. The same people. The same day. Every month. It didn't take rocket science for a hunter to figure out that something was strange about this all. Everyone was so undisciplined. It's a goddamn miracle they're all alive. Fayth sighed as it was time for her to walk into the pub. She worked part time there as a bartender, but on these nights she decided to take the night off. Be on watch for her fellow wolves. And tonight she looked every bit the part she wanted to play. Her dyed blonde hair let loose flowing down her shoulders. A pair of hooped earrings in. Black heels, and a tight black dress that revealed her long smooth legs as she strutted on into the bar. Her heels clacking the entire way as she moved on in. Fay gave a brilliant smile to those who were there. Especially the men. Showing off as she moved on up to a stool at the bar and took her seat. Placing her purse on the counter. The blonde looked around and spotted Avery immediately. "Hey gorgeous! Can you help a girl out over here? I need to get cray tonight. Tipsy! Ya' know? I'll take the usual by the way." The usual being an appletini that would probably get most men laughed at if they ordered it. She claimed to hate the taste of alcohol and just wanted that sweet drink.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir ~Anton~ "Yeah, yeah." Anton muttered, whizzing around and flushing the toilet. So much for "drowning her sorrows". More like drowning sick down a toilet. She was highly regretting puking it up; once a month was far too little time to drink good strong Vodka. She mentally slapped herself for not being able to survive the Vodka, and burst out the bathroom door only to collide with Ryan pounding on the door. "Ryan! You scared the shit out of me! Look, I heard you the first time, ok? Now I need more Vodka. And please don't tell me you only got one bottle AGAIN!" She strode over to a dank table that had not been wiped properly, sat down, and waited expectantly for Ryan to bring her anything.</s> <\|message\|>Yvette Stowe Greyville, a place that Yvette knew was packed full of werewolves. By her research, and the research of others, and established pack was located in this town, however the only problem would be fishing them out and eradicating their very existence off the face of this earth. She let out a small huff as she stared at her laptop screen. A word document filled with her theories had been sitting in front of her for the past hour while she had sat around and thought... Man, thinking was hard. The young hunter leaned back in her chair and let out a frustrated sigh as she sat up and ran her fingers through her hair. "Dimitri might be up to something." Yvette murmured. He was already taking the initiative, in fact he probably might have already done something catastrophic. She shook her head lightly and paced about her apartment room, thinking of things to do before she would actually start heading out into the forests for late night hunting. Ah, well she could grab a drink? It wouldn't hurt to participate in normal activities once and awhile? With that thought in mind, Yvette gathered her hair up into a bun, put on a leather jacket to relieve herself of the cold winds and left her apartment to satisfy her taste for drinking. The young woman slipped into her sleek black Camaro, the trunk already filled with the appropriate weaponry for hunting, and drove off. Yvette took the fast and edgy way to the bar by speeding past signs which would probably end up with her mailbox stuffed full of tickets for disobeying the town's traffic laws. No matter, she could pay it off in due time. ---- The Hunter pulled up near the bar and exited her car, her hands stuffed into her pockets as she slid through the entrance and settled down at the bar counter. Well, since she was alone, maybe she should pester Dimitri? Yvette pulled out her phone and sent him a quick text. Lmao ay, cum 2 duh bar.</s>	<\|message\|>Jesse Williams Where other members of the pack left their respective home or flat, giving their families the good-bye-smooch or some such nonsense, Jesse kicked her door close, leaving nothing behind but a messy, lifeless apartment. Reeking of copulation and the feral smell one would know from animal cages at the zoo. But ultimately, it was devoid of life today. It was rather usual for the fine lady Williams to kick temporary lovers out of her lair without mercy for their bodily well-being nor the accepted noise level of the block, though not today. She left on her own, in what one would call 'good' mood, wearing nothing less than brass knuckles on her right hand like shiny, sparkly jewelry. She passed a few others on the path down the stairway, gracefully ignoring their presence, uncaring wether or not they looked at her with hostility (that would be other wolves) or awe (as did the few human inhabitants of the building). She made her way out on the streets, bouncing rather than walking. It was the night before the night, and though the bar would be crowded with canines, it was a promising night for lovers of a good scuffle. About twenty minutes later, Jesse arrived at the bar. The acute observer would notice a time loss of about ten minutes, walking the distance from her apartment to the establishment, however. A fresh bundle of bank notes in her pocket as well as a few splatters of blood adorning her knuckle dusters and right arm implied the cause of her delay. Being without a steady income, the woman had to 'make' some money every now and then, and the unlucky victim of tonight was a semi-professional dealer trying to make some quick cash on her route to the pub. What the poor guy forgot to consider when picking a police-free neighbourhood was the better-than-average sense of smell a handful of people around here had, something that came incredibly handy when looking for a quick 'money dispenser'. After a quick 'chat' with the gentleman that thoroughly convinced him to avoid this area of Greyville in the future, Jesse arrived at the bar, quickly letting her blood-covered weapon disappear in the pockets of her sleeveless hoodie. She cared enough to superficially wipe the clearly visible blood on her arm away, leaving some less noticeable but still hardly secreted smears. Upon entering with an utterly amused expression - the evening started fairly entertaining after all - she sought a place at the counter, avoiding the general 'pack corner'. For her it was more fun to converse with the clueless human customers anyway, and that lessened the chances for a brawl with the other wolves too. Not that she was eager to avoid such a thing, but pretending to always looked better in the eyes of the alphas. Her choice of a seat was strategically closer to Avery than to Ryan. Unsurprisingly, she addressed the human when issuing her first order of the night. "Hey sweety, how about you pour me some vodka? Make it the good 'ol cheap stuff, alright?" Jesse wasn't the kind to ask for expensive stuff. Heck, she hardly ever had enough money on her to pay the tab after a night of drinking cheap shit. Living at the low end of low makes you numb enough to not care, though.</s>
<\|description\|>Jesse Williams Age: 24 Appearance: Human, werewolf or hunter?: Beta Werewolf Background: Jesse was born as a werewolf and raised as a werewolf, with all the hardships of being the youngest cub in the pack. She was the last 'naturally' born member of her old pack and thus lived a life at the low end of the pecking order for more than twenty years. This majorly contributed to her bully-esque character and the rebellious demeanor that comes with it. Jesse's old pack was essentially the werewolf equivalent to human gypsies. They wandered between cities frequently, always claiming a set 'turf' for a while before moving on to the next city or town. They were loud and aggressive and drawing general attention required them to change locations before people asked too many questions. As one would expect, an almost permanently drunk crowd of rowdy werewolves didn't interact in the smoothest ways with other packs, so fights with other covenants were not unheard of. After building a bad reputation among their kin for some years, warm welcomes from other packs were somewhat rare. The pack eventually dissolved when their alphas fell to rebelling omegas, and said omegas succumbed to their injuries afterwards. With nobody to lead the pack, they fell apart in less than a month and scattered in all directions. During her time at the wandering pack, Jesse always was the weakest link. She was never physically weak, on the contrary - being bullied by a pack of aggressive and highly violent werewolves put her in a fairly well-conditioned state. However, she lacked a certain finesse, the dexterity to use her power for anything more than a pair of bone-breaking fists. Her defense against her fellows lacked unpredictability or skill, she never made it past being a brutal thug and this pack lacked all forms of benevolence, so nobody trained her. In the past, new werewolves were born into the pack who would take over the position of the general 'victim', but the digress of werewolf birth damned Jesse to a life at the bottom of the food chain. As a result of twenty years worth of punishment for being the youngest cub, she turned into a fairly violent, erratic slugger herself. Being superior to humans only, she let off all the steam from being subdued on human street gangs and thugs. She always tries to act reasonably 'human' around them - masking her unnaturally strong punches by using baseball bats for example, broken bones from a bat swing are a lot less unusual than from a casual backhand after all. Mostly taking it out on gangs also let her avoid unnecessary attention, police forces never really care when the victims of a brawl have comprehensive criminal records. Despite all the precaution, she has a few murder-stains on her slate, none of which can be connected to her directly though. Another feature she gained during her time at the wandering pack is the affection for her 'turf'. To this day, she considers the area she lives in as her property and takes the right to represent the law. In other words, to beat shady characters into a bloody pulp at will. This and her general fixation on human interaction (playing 'gang wars' with the lesser creatures and such) is usually met with disapproval from other wolves. It also gets her in trouble frequently as it draws attention of less benevolent wolf packs or hunters. Beyond her highly ranked position in human gang interactions, she's still a lowlife in werewolf society. Jesse is a coward that doesn't hesitate to switch to the winning side in times of conflict. She's the kind of person who instigates mutiny, stays out of the actual fight and then gangs up on the already defeated party. Though she has little more to offer than brute force in a combat scenario, she's by no means stupid and constantly tries to manipulate people around her for her own advantage. After the downfall of the wandering pack, Jesse lived alone and on the streets for a while. She didn't really encourage the humans to, but a gang formed around her. Mostly just cowardish thugs who hid behind the seemingly insane but undefeatable woman, but Jesse never discouraged them either and enjoyed being admired for a change. It sure was a hell of a lot better than being on the receiving end all the time, she thought. Coincidentally, the area she poached in at the time was Greyville. The resident pack noticed her puppetry with the humans and approached her eventually. In order to minimize the chaos Jesse could cause and driven by the omnipresent decline in birth rate, they negotiated her joining the pack. A crucial condition was that she would dissolve her gang and swear to never join or form one ever again. A condition that didn't exclude the option to wreak havoc on human lowlife every now and then. Coming from a pack that didn't put any value in cohesion and only coexisted for the sense of security a group of wolves offers, Jesse doesn't quite fit into the greyville pack. While she respects the alphas and obeys most omegas, she spends most of her time interacting with the pack in petty fights. Most notably, she got into a scuffle with Fay at some point that didn't end in her favor. The woman even joined the pack right afterwards, as an omega no less, setting the stage for an exemplary hate-love relationship. With a heavy focus on the hate-part.</s> <\|message\|>James Matherson Stephen Whelan Stephen continued to sit in the dark corner, watching as people came in. A waitress with dark hair came over, and asked if he wanted anything. "No, thank you," he replied. He knew that Michael, a werewolf who worked at The Backhouse, would pour him his regular, a PBR. He continued to sit, breathing the air in, as people go up. After a while, a woman came in, and then a few minutes later a man came in, dark and tall. He focused in on him, and he could hear him speaking, with a Russian accent. Stephen decided that he would continue to listen in. --- James Matherson James was in home, in his small house in Greyville. He knew that there was a pack here, he just wasn't sure who was a werewolf. He was in his basement, preparing for the full moon tomorrow night. He had to be ready to kill on sight. Perhaps I could prepare with some others, he thought, and sent out a text to all of the hunters in Greyville: Hey, it's a full moon tomorrow, anyone wanna do some planning? -James</s> <\|message\|>Yvette Stowe "The women want to get all in your pants, Dimitri." Yvette had a sly smirk as she sipped her beer, sparing the woman who catcalled him a glance. She shrugged her shoulders, and soon her gaze drifted and settled onto the bleeding figure. "How casual... Wait..." She whispered. The young woman's eyes narrowed as she had realized who that bleeding man was. She nudged Dimitri and pointed over at the lad, her voicing growing to a low whisper. "It's Thomas..." Yvette didn't know why he thought that it'd be okay to nonchalantly show up at a bar to drink... But whatever he decided, it was kind of stupid. "Mkayy... Well, I'm just gonna..." She slipped out of her stool to approach Thomas. "Welp, time to see him out."</s> <\|message\|>Nanix Erka Nanix Nanix frowned a bit. He was in a mood, huh? She put on a brave face, hoping not to look disappointed "Alright then" She turned away, going to serve anyone else who was at the bar</s> <\|message\|>Dimitri Kozlov Dimitri stared down at the cooled water, his lips pulling into a small smirk of it's own at the 'Hey boy' from the girl across the bar. However, despite this, his mind was running a mile a second, the man easily returning his gaze to the drink down in front of him. Something didn't sit right with him... Thomas must have had an accident, that much was evident, but he had only heard rumors of the wild pack miles away from Greyville, back in the mountains that he had just eradicated...so whom, and what, had the other man been hunting? A random wanderer that had gotten too feisty during the full moon light? An old werewolf that wanted one more bout before he keeled over and died? No...Thomas was too skilled for that; he wouldn't get injured by an old, waning beast. Not to mention that not a lot of people seemed surprise at the blood. Gripping the cold cup with one calloused, gloved hand, Dimitri took a long sip, leaning back at the bar and stretching his arms above his head. His leather jacket was made from a pilfered Kevlar alloy, capable enough to stop a wolf's razor-sharp fangs and claws with minimal injury...not to mention he had an old family friend that tailored his clothing and weapons, for only a small amount of funding, which was easy with the wealth his father had managed to accumulate over time. Right now, however, the jacket was making the already warm room a bit hot, so Dimitri took it off, rolling it up and resting it on the counter beside his drink. This showed the tears in his long-sleeved shirt, and a few splatters of wolf blood, but the blood had long since dried, and the scent was practically non-existant. Just to be safe, he rolled the sleeves up his forearms, revealing long, jagged scars along the skin. Dimitri threw his jacket over his shoulder, and finally decided to stand. Walking over to Thomas and Yvette, the Russian Hunter smirked slightly larger, clasping Thomas on the shoulder that held the injured arm. "Ты полный отстой." He commented, his voice's accent becoming a Hell of a lot thicker due to him using his mother tongue. Dimitri sat down beside him, slapping Thomas lightly on the cheek to make him alert. "Go to the hospital." His voice was blunt and direct.</s>	<\|message\|>Jesse Williams Everything went as expected. People poured into the bar, both familiar faces and curiously unknown ones. Anton was at full speed too. Already. While it certainly took some strong juice to get her going, it never took long. While picking up the glass of cheap booze - "Thanks a bunch, cutie!" - Jesse decided to keep an eye on her situation. Always payed off to stick to the drunks, always came with lots of opportunities. "Picking on people you think are weaker than you, again?" While she didn't exactly sweep the room, her sense of smell and hearing got her a pretty good idea about who of the pack participated in the lil' monthly get-together, but somehow she still had missed picking up on Fayth. Odd, she thought, before the full extend of the blondes little 'poking fun/insult' hit her. Causing her to grind her teeth for a brief moment, before she put up the most sickeningly sweet and obviously fake smile. "Somebody's gotta pay the tab, right?" Her retort was anything if not odd. Confusing for anyone who didn't know her, no doubt. Jesse loved to poke fun at how uncomplicated it was to simply beat some poor sod into the pavement and take their cash, when the other pack members tried to live a genuine, honest life with a secure income like normal people do. To the average person she'd just seem like a careless thug thriving in the utter absence of the public law in Greyville, but to the pack she was a special kind of pest. One that didn't bother to fit into human society and shamelessly abused her unfair advantages to her personal gain. It was a thorn in everyone's side, specifically for those who masked their true nature and worked hard for their paycheck. She never bothered to hide her mugging deeds either, and often enough described them with a certain pride, just to rub it in and annoy the others even more. For Jesse, there was nothing negative about picking on weaklings. Survival of the fittest in its up-to-date form, as she liked to argument. Despite the carefree and self-ironical answer, it gnawed on her. The whole woman gnawed on her. She had planned to get back on Fay for a while now, for the beating she received. All it took was an (un)lucky encounter at night...preferably with two other betas, if not three. She had just to work out who'd qualify for the job and how to rile them up against the omega. Not an easy feat for someone who is generally making enemies left and right. Looking after Fay for just a second, Jess noticed Mori after completely missing her arrival as well. She made a mental note to pick a place that didn't put her back towards the door next time and gave her a respectful nod during a brief moment of eye-contact. When the bleeding guy entered the bar, she barely reacted. The intense smell of large quantities of blood didn't leave her completely unphased, but she managed to behave and not show it. Letting off steam earlier helped a great deal, too. Contrary to the general awe the bleeding man seemed to inspire, she payed him an impressed whistle. From one blood-splattered person to another. The night was still young and full of opportunity, and Jess was not nearly lit enough to pick a fight with someone her own size yet, so she decided to sit tight, sip cheap vodka and eavesdrop on Fay and Mori for the time being.</s>
<\|description\|>Jesse Williams Age: 24 Appearance: Human, werewolf or hunter?: Beta Werewolf Background: Jesse was born as a werewolf and raised as a werewolf, with all the hardships of being the youngest cub in the pack. She was the last 'naturally' born member of her old pack and thus lived a life at the low end of the pecking order for more than twenty years. This majorly contributed to her bully-esque character and the rebellious demeanor that comes with it. Jesse's old pack was essentially the werewolf equivalent to human gypsies. They wandered between cities frequently, always claiming a set 'turf' for a while before moving on to the next city or town. They were loud and aggressive and drawing general attention required them to change locations before people asked too many questions. As one would expect, an almost permanently drunk crowd of rowdy werewolves didn't interact in the smoothest ways with other packs, so fights with other covenants were not unheard of. After building a bad reputation among their kin for some years, warm welcomes from other packs were somewhat rare. The pack eventually dissolved when their alphas fell to rebelling omegas, and said omegas succumbed to their injuries afterwards. With nobody to lead the pack, they fell apart in less than a month and scattered in all directions. During her time at the wandering pack, Jesse always was the weakest link. She was never physically weak, on the contrary - being bullied by a pack of aggressive and highly violent werewolves put her in a fairly well-conditioned state. However, she lacked a certain finesse, the dexterity to use her power for anything more than a pair of bone-breaking fists. Her defense against her fellows lacked unpredictability or skill, she never made it past being a brutal thug and this pack lacked all forms of benevolence, so nobody trained her. In the past, new werewolves were born into the pack who would take over the position of the general 'victim', but the digress of werewolf birth damned Jesse to a life at the bottom of the food chain. As a result of twenty years worth of punishment for being the youngest cub, she turned into a fairly violent, erratic slugger herself. Being superior to humans only, she let off all the steam from being subdued on human street gangs and thugs. She always tries to act reasonably 'human' around them - masking her unnaturally strong punches by using baseball bats for example, broken bones from a bat swing are a lot less unusual than from a casual backhand after all. Mostly taking it out on gangs also let her avoid unnecessary attention, police forces never really care when the victims of a brawl have comprehensive criminal records. Despite all the precaution, she has a few murder-stains on her slate, none of which can be connected to her directly though. Another feature she gained during her time at the wandering pack is the affection for her 'turf'. To this day, she considers the area she lives in as her property and takes the right to represent the law. In other words, to beat shady characters into a bloody pulp at will. This and her general fixation on human interaction (playing 'gang wars' with the lesser creatures and such) is usually met with disapproval from other wolves. It also gets her in trouble frequently as it draws attention of less benevolent wolf packs or hunters. Beyond her highly ranked position in human gang interactions, she's still a lowlife in werewolf society. Jesse is a coward that doesn't hesitate to switch to the winning side in times of conflict. She's the kind of person who instigates mutiny, stays out of the actual fight and then gangs up on the already defeated party. Though she has little more to offer than brute force in a combat scenario, she's by no means stupid and constantly tries to manipulate people around her for her own advantage. After the downfall of the wandering pack, Jesse lived alone and on the streets for a while. She didn't really encourage the humans to, but a gang formed around her. Mostly just cowardish thugs who hid behind the seemingly insane but undefeatable woman, but Jesse never discouraged them either and enjoyed being admired for a change. It sure was a hell of a lot better than being on the receiving end all the time, she thought. Coincidentally, the area she poached in at the time was Greyville. The resident pack noticed her puppetry with the humans and approached her eventually. In order to minimize the chaos Jesse could cause and driven by the omnipresent decline in birth rate, they negotiated her joining the pack. A crucial condition was that she would dissolve her gang and swear to never join or form one ever again. A condition that didn't exclude the option to wreak havoc on human lowlife every now and then. Coming from a pack that didn't put any value in cohesion and only coexisted for the sense of security a group of wolves offers, Jesse doesn't quite fit into the greyville pack. While she respects the alphas and obeys most omegas, she spends most of her time interacting with the pack in petty fights. Most notably, she got into a scuffle with Fay at some point that didn't end in her favor. The woman even joined the pack right afterwards, as an omega no less, setting the stage for an exemplary hate-love relationship. With a heavy focus on the hate-part.</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer Catching Fay's command as she, too, left out the door, Kalib felt only a smidge better knowing another omega was here in case he messed up. He pulled out his phone and dialed emergency services, telling them the situation, and getting back to what he was doing. "If that guy really does need help, at least someone's coming." He thought, a little less dismal this time. Shoving the negative thoughts from his head, he bucked up and resolved to focus on his job. Turning in his seat, he looked about the scene with alertness. If anything else were to go wrong, he'd make sure he'd catch it (and that he didn't do it himself). It seemed that the usual suspects were at the bar that night. The alphas, a few betas, a bunch of townsfolk looking to have a good night. Even though he was at the bar, he wasn't expecting to get too drunk that night. It wouldn't be new if a few hunters would try to scope out targets a few days before the full moon and Kalib wasn't going to let anyone hurt their pack. Not on his watch.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir @Trinais ~Anton~ Anton watched Ryan walk away with hungry eyes and made herself comfy on her chair. She should really come here regularly - force Ryan into working weeks, perhaps? Anton didn't really know how she felt about Ryan. His eyes are so dreamy... She was awoken by a rapid voice in her ear. "You are done drinking." "Fuck off Carlson. I can drink as much as I intend to. Which, like all of the rest of my private life, is none of your business." Anton watched Thomas being tended to by, literally, everyone. She took this as an opportunity to get away from Carlson, and lifting herself over the bar, went into the cooler room where she found Ryan. "Hey, Ryan? I've waited long enough, where do you store my Vodka?" She began rooting through cupboards without waiting for an answer. 'Fuckin' Ryan,' she thought.</s> <\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Mori Did it only seem or was the bar really unusually loud that night? Sure, it was a rush hour, like every other month before the full moon. A pack of wolves ordering drinks, and causing minor troubles that come with that, then some other human locals, who were also more or less regular costumers in the bar. In all that crazy bunch, Mori noticed three fairy new visitors, who on a first glance seem to know each other. And yet they did not make an entrance together. That guy, who soon became the center of all the attention, bursting in the bar covered in blood, and then Mr. Muscles, as Fay called him, drinking water, while everyone around him was indulging in the mind numbing liquid. He sure seemed like a dream date for Mori, but judging from herself, she knew that you should never trust a man who does not drink alcohol, because they are probably up to something. She lost herself in thought with scanning the mysterious threesome, and completely overhead Fay's words about her not being fun due to drinking juice. When she finally got her drink, she realized all the fun had already moved outside, with the three strangers gone, and of course Fay, who seemed to take control of the situation pretty well. Strangely enough, that didn't bother Mori at all, what bothered her was the fact that Carlson was giving all the attention to Anton, who did what she knew best – victimize herself with overdrinking, and then getting all the attention for it. ''Carlson!'' she called for her partner, who didn't seem to hear her the first time. ''God dammit, Carlson!'' she called for him again, and then walked herself right next to him, right at the moment Antony managed to get away from his norturing grip. ''Something's up,'' she said through her teeth, looking at Carlson to see if he was monitoring his surroundings at all. ''Something is not right here. I can feel it.''</s> <\|message\|>Yvette Stowe "I would prefer it if you move away..." Yvette murmured. She dug through the medical kit, working quickly to at least clot the wound so that the flow of blood would cease. "The wound isn't too harsh, however it is rather deep, but not deep enough to scratch the surface of the bone. It isn't as dire as you think, it was earlier because he did nothing but sit and drink nonchalantly as if nothing had ever happened, and during that timeframe he lost quite a bit of blood." Well, time to put her uncle's teachings into use. She rubbed her hands on her pants, slipped on the gloves the kit had given her and began to pour hydrogen peroxide onto a sterilized piece of cloth. Antibiotics were important yet surprisingly missing from the medical kit, however that could be settled at the emergency room of the hospital, for now Yvette would have to settle with simply cleaning the wound, then dressing it with a decent layer of gauze and a compression bandage from another piece of cloth. "I can drive to the hospital faster than an ambulance can arrive, so don't waste your time with calling it." Yvette closed the lit, placed it into the hands of Dimitri, then wrapped Thomas' un-injured arm over her shoulders so that she was able to slide him into the back seat of her Camaro. "I appreciate the help though." She headed over to the drivers seat and rolled down the window. "Dimitri, meet us at the hospital, afterwards we'll talk." Yvette gave him a small nod, then drove off. "This would have been a lot easier if someone had decided to go get treated instead of drink... What a pain in my ass. I'm no den mother." She grunted and slammed her fist onto her car horn, honking it violently as she whizzed past cars to make it to the hospital in a short amount of time.</s> <\|message\|>Stíofán ó Faoláin (English: Stephen Whelan) Stíofán ó Faoláin (Stephen Whelan) Stephen wondered how the Russian man had a connection with the heavily bleeding man, but continued to listen. After a minute or so of talking, the bleeding man left the bar, and a few people followed, including the Russian man and his female friend. Stephen assumed that they were leaving, and didn't follow. However, after a couple of minutes it appeared as though there was a problem outside the bar. He wanted to know what was happening, so he stood up, and went outside. He was about to offer help, when the woman was taking the bleeding man into her car. Stephen spoke to the Russian man, who was a bit shorter than himself, but more muscular, "I was about to ask if you wanted any help," he told him, not bothering to dull down his Irish accent, "But it looks like you don't need it. What happened?" he asked.</s>	<\|message\|>Jesse Williams Having eyes on Antons situation rather than the general circus evolving around Thomas, Jess was decently surprised when Kalib entered the bar, squealing for someone to call 911 like a little girl. Confused even. While she didn't say it out loud, the words "Why the hell is everyone head over heals to help some nondescript asshat? What's with the sudden compassion for that human?" formed in her head. When she showed up at the bar showered in blood, people usually shouted at her instead. "Calm your tits, girl." The comment was quite openly directed at Kalib, and rather descriptive for the usual tone between the two of them. The guy always seemed to care just a little too much, to overthink things. Way too insecure for Jesses taste. Certainly not the kind of dog one could talk into assaulting a fellow pack member, and thus automatically uninteresting to the girl. As she emptied her glass and observed Anton following after Ryan - breaking free from Carlson's custody, nicely done! - from the corner of her eyes, Jess was grabbed by Fay. A gesture she despised with a passion. Though being a highly physical person in every sense of the word, someone who loved intimate and rough contact, she preferred to do so on her terms. Being groped unexpectedly like that made the fake smile on her face fade away faster than Antons soberness. She turned to return a cold gaze that seemed to spell "Get your damn hand off me.". "We can pick up the tab in much better ways. Safer ways. Like, I could give you such great pointers, girlie!" She usually managed to keep her cool around Fay and wasn't that drunk yet either, but couldn't help hissing a snarky answer to that after the woman. Words violently manifested on her tongue and fought their way to freedom, carried by her slightly vodka-flavored breath. Definitely loud enough for her to still perceive it, and probably half of the folks hanging out around the counter, too. "I'm sure you're the expert on how to turn your body into profit. Thanks for the offer, but some of us actually have some self-respect." Averting her eyes from Fay, she kept watch over the doorframe Anton disappeared in. Still looking for an easy opening. A totally wasted girl acting like an asshole, in some semi-secret back room? Definitely a magnet for trouble. And if trouble ensued, she planned to be part of it.</s>
<\|description\|>Jesse Williams Age: 24 Appearance: Human, werewolf or hunter?: Beta Werewolf Background: Jesse was born as a werewolf and raised as a werewolf, with all the hardships of being the youngest cub in the pack. She was the last 'naturally' born member of her old pack and thus lived a life at the low end of the pecking order for more than twenty years. This majorly contributed to her bully-esque character and the rebellious demeanor that comes with it. Jesse's old pack was essentially the werewolf equivalent to human gypsies. They wandered between cities frequently, always claiming a set 'turf' for a while before moving on to the next city or town. They were loud and aggressive and drawing general attention required them to change locations before people asked too many questions. As one would expect, an almost permanently drunk crowd of rowdy werewolves didn't interact in the smoothest ways with other packs, so fights with other covenants were not unheard of. After building a bad reputation among their kin for some years, warm welcomes from other packs were somewhat rare. The pack eventually dissolved when their alphas fell to rebelling omegas, and said omegas succumbed to their injuries afterwards. With nobody to lead the pack, they fell apart in less than a month and scattered in all directions. During her time at the wandering pack, Jesse always was the weakest link. She was never physically weak, on the contrary - being bullied by a pack of aggressive and highly violent werewolves put her in a fairly well-conditioned state. However, she lacked a certain finesse, the dexterity to use her power for anything more than a pair of bone-breaking fists. Her defense against her fellows lacked unpredictability or skill, she never made it past being a brutal thug and this pack lacked all forms of benevolence, so nobody trained her. In the past, new werewolves were born into the pack who would take over the position of the general 'victim', but the digress of werewolf birth damned Jesse to a life at the bottom of the food chain. As a result of twenty years worth of punishment for being the youngest cub, she turned into a fairly violent, erratic slugger herself. Being superior to humans only, she let off all the steam from being subdued on human street gangs and thugs. She always tries to act reasonably 'human' around them - masking her unnaturally strong punches by using baseball bats for example, broken bones from a bat swing are a lot less unusual than from a casual backhand after all. Mostly taking it out on gangs also let her avoid unnecessary attention, police forces never really care when the victims of a brawl have comprehensive criminal records. Despite all the precaution, she has a few murder-stains on her slate, none of which can be connected to her directly though. Another feature she gained during her time at the wandering pack is the affection for her 'turf'. To this day, she considers the area she lives in as her property and takes the right to represent the law. In other words, to beat shady characters into a bloody pulp at will. This and her general fixation on human interaction (playing 'gang wars' with the lesser creatures and such) is usually met with disapproval from other wolves. It also gets her in trouble frequently as it draws attention of less benevolent wolf packs or hunters. Beyond her highly ranked position in human gang interactions, she's still a lowlife in werewolf society. Jesse is a coward that doesn't hesitate to switch to the winning side in times of conflict. She's the kind of person who instigates mutiny, stays out of the actual fight and then gangs up on the already defeated party. Though she has little more to offer than brute force in a combat scenario, she's by no means stupid and constantly tries to manipulate people around her for her own advantage. After the downfall of the wandering pack, Jesse lived alone and on the streets for a while. She didn't really encourage the humans to, but a gang formed around her. Mostly just cowardish thugs who hid behind the seemingly insane but undefeatable woman, but Jesse never discouraged them either and enjoyed being admired for a change. It sure was a hell of a lot better than being on the receiving end all the time, she thought. Coincidentally, the area she poached in at the time was Greyville. The resident pack noticed her puppetry with the humans and approached her eventually. In order to minimize the chaos Jesse could cause and driven by the omnipresent decline in birth rate, they negotiated her joining the pack. A crucial condition was that she would dissolve her gang and swear to never join or form one ever again. A condition that didn't exclude the option to wreak havoc on human lowlife every now and then. Coming from a pack that didn't put any value in cohesion and only coexisted for the sense of security a group of wolves offers, Jesse doesn't quite fit into the greyville pack. While she respects the alphas and obeys most omegas, she spends most of her time interacting with the pack in petty fights. Most notably, she got into a scuffle with Fay at some point that didn't end in her favor. The woman even joined the pack right afterwards, as an omega no less, setting the stage for an exemplary hate-love relationship. With a heavy focus on the hate-part.</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer He nodded in response to Mori's order "Right-o, boss." and left his seat to get the other omegas. Stopping himself mid-stride, he swiftly took the rum and cola with him. "No use wasting a good drink." It only took a few minutes to alert the other omegas that they were needed. As he left his empty glass on the counter (with a nice tip for the bartender, as he assumed they would be leaving soon), he noticed Fay behind the counter. "So there you are!" Relieved to see her back, he walked over to her. He lowered his voice a little. "The bosses need us, I think we're heading out now." His eyes caught a glimpse at the empty glasses in front of them, a little concerned but trying to not pay mind. "You okay there, Fay?"</s> <\|message\|>Jesse Williams Still attending her ever-watchful watch over her surroundings in general, Jess was about to get up and see what's what with Anton and Ryan, back there. They had a lot of private time. Seeing how lit Anton was when she disappeared and knowing how aggressive she got in that state, Jesse doubted they'd be making out in private, so it was probably worth investigating. But alas, something new happened right as she emptied her second glass of booze. Something exciting and amusing, too! Fay re-entered the bar, looking refreshingly furious. A nice change from the act she put up most of the time. Given it was a rather flawless act, leaving most people to believe she actually was some irrelevant blonde chick with half a brain at most. But you only needed to see her drop that act once to know it's a mask, the ferocity held back behind giggly, bouncy goldilocks was much more real. Being a rather 'natural' girl in that regards, Jesse couldn't help to smirk. Though she was a rival first and foremost, the enemy if there ever was one, she liked the fierce side of Fay. She was much easier to infuriate too. "What's up, hun? Got turned down?" Of course, Jess was oblivious to the presence of the hunters, didn't know what went down outside and had no idea the pack was about to pack up and leave. But even if she was in the picture, she'd very likely still poke fun at Fay. Upon overhearing Kalibs news, she furrowed her brow, shooting angry looks at him. "Whyssat? They playin' fun-police again? Somebody gimme another vodka, then!" The last part of that was directed at the blonde, since she conveniently had her ass placed behind the counter anyway.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir ~Anton~ Anton was rooting through the cooler cupboard and a drink had almost touched her lips when she heard Carlson's shout. She drank it anyway, discarding the bottle with a smash on the floor. Removing herself from the cooler room - shivering with the temperature change - Anton walked up to Carlson, her face red. "How come Fay ish aloud to drink and I'm not?! And Jess ish! 'Dis ish so unfair!" she nodded at Fay and Jess "I'm shure I can handled it better than them!" she spat with a slight slur. Anton picked up some of the popcorn nibbles on a nearby table and began shovelling salty popcorn into her mouth.</s> <\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Mori Mori clutched her teeth together to prevent herself from taking some heavy swings at Fay. She was being disrespectful, and Mori was getting more and more fed up with it. But it wasn't only her nasty behaviour toward her alpha female, that was a problem, it was also the goddamned secrecy that went along it. Fay knew something, and wasn't willing to share, which was quite typical of her, only looking after her selfish interests. Mori was sure of that, because of the way Fay looked at her. She didn't took Mori's warning coded in the form of her full first name. She didn't even twitch. Which could mean only that Fay already knew what was going on. Or worse, she knew even more, but ws keeping it to herself. It took all her strenght letting Fay strode away from her just like that, as she was smart enough not to start a werewolf fight in front of a guy, who might aswell be one of the hunters. Then she had do decide rather quickly, what her next move should be. Should she go after disobedient bitch of a Fay, and make an example of what happenes to those, who get on Mori's bad side, in front of a whole bar, or should she play along with the flirtatious one, and try to find out if he's a hunter aswell.She decided to do the latter, as she trusted Kaleb, the good Omega, to take care of things inside the bar. Besides, Carlson was there, too. She then closed her eyes for a second, the calm herself, and then bite her lower lip as in answer to the guy's interest. ''Oh, it's nothing. That was my sister. She is a bit...crazy right now. You see, she just found out her boyfriend was cheating on her with her best friend, and... you know,'' she said with a pleasant voice, and continued to scan this man's body. It appeared she was observing his muscular torso, when in fact she tried to spot any kind of weapon he might be wearing. ''You up for a drink?'' She then asked him with a teasing grin over her face.</s> <\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow Carlson screaming at Anton. Anton yelling at Carlson. Fay knew Mori had something to say but didn't say it. She respected the female alpha for having some self control. Fayth nearly laughed at her own thoughts. Not that she wasn't a hypocrite to her core when it came to self control. Though, Fay at least kept her private issues private unlike others who needed to be a drunk slobbering mess all over the goddamn bar. Noise, so much noise! Fay couldn't shut it out. And of course, Jess just couldn't keep her smug mouth shut. For a sub-par fighter, Jess certainly had a lot to say. The whisky soon began its work. Coursing through her veins like a drug. A venomous snake slithering its way over every part of her body. Coiling itself over her and sinking its fangs deep into her being. The seductive venom gave her body a tingle. Quieting the rush and the bloodlust bubbling up inside of her. Near boiling with rage, settling down as the rumble of noise all around her was suddenly quiet. Fay looked up from the counter at Kalib. That lethal state planted on her face. "Kalib. I know you're new at this job. Just don't ask me stupid questions. I'm completely fine." She was unnecessarily harsh with him. But, Fayth figured certain members of this pack needed discipline. Most of them looked as though they'd gone far too long without it. An iron fist from an omega might do the trick. "Now, I need you to do me a favor. I suggest you take Anton here and escort her back home." Fay's gaze turned over to Anton. "Unless miss I need all the eyes on me who can't handle her liquor because she's a pathetic, weak little girl wants her face introduced to this counter top." Fay grabbed a white towel and wiped at the spot she bit her own hand. The white fabric being stained with blood. Now Jesse had the omega's attention. She smiled as she brought up a shot glass and grabbed the weakest vodka she could find stored in the entire bar. Pouring only half a shot. "That should be enough for you. You can't take much abuse. I've seen it."</s>	<\|message\|>Jesse Williams The sight of Anton and Carlson having a shout-level conversation was not the least bit surprising to Jess. It was a bit unfortunate still, as the alpha was one out of the two people in the pack she wasn't eager to have a physical confrontation with - she still maintained the required respect for their two leaders, most of the time. Getting them all angry and upset about herself was not a smart move, specifically so since Mori and Fay had so much advantageous tension going on between one another. "That should be enough for you. You can't take much abuse. I've seen it." Fay's voice finished Jess' train of thought and made her glare daggers at the blonde after a moment of surprise. She sure didn't see that blow coming her way. "What the fuck are you on about? Who gave you the right to meter paying customers intake, miss appletini?" Jesse didn't remember a single incident that the blondes statement could be referring to - being blessed with selective memory no doubt. She was half-aware that Fay probably just tried to push her buttons, but there was a certain sense of pride swelling up. Being called out like that in a public bar was a low blow. Jess worked hard for her reputation and didn't accept the omega tearing it down because she was butthurt over a rejection from some russian thug. She pushed the half-empty glass away from her, back to the person with the bottle in her bloody - for some reason - hands. Jess half rose from her chair, caught between getting proper upset with Fay and moving over to help Anton start a war. Both options had their advantages, both had a catch. While she knew arguing with the omega was no good and that she should by no means get provoked into throwing the first actual punch, she still lingered at the bar for a moment longer. In an unexpected and no doubt liquor-fueled turn of events, she put a hand on Kalibs shoulder. "I think you're right, Cal. She doesn't seem quite alright to me. Maybe someone should take that bottle o' Whisky from her."</s>
<\|description\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Age: 29 Appearance: Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega? Alpha Background: Morgana had always been an odd child. Unlike the other girls, she didn't care about the dolls and pretty dresses. She enjoyed spending her time with boys in the nearby forest. Hunting, fighting, building things...that was her definition of fun. Her father was an alcoholic, and he often took a swing at her and her mother. Morgana hated them both, equally. Father for his violence, and mother for her cowardness. She promised herself that one day she would put an end to all of this. Hanging out with the boys eventually made her stronger, and fearless to a fault, but nothing could equip her for vengeance better than what happened to her on one August's full moon night. She made a bet with the boys that she dares to walk across the forest alone, using only moonlight to light the way. She never thought she would be in danger out there. After all, the woods have been her second home. The place of joy, laughter, and freedom. She knew all the creatures that lived there, from a giant stag to a grumpy boar. But she had no idea that the forest had welcomed a new visitor. It all happened in a second. The sound of growling, ripping, screaming… And then nothing but silent darkness. She never learnt who was the werewolf that turned her that night. He left her alone in the woods, where she was later found by the local hunters, who took her to the hospital. She was badly wounded, but odly enough, her wounds had healed pretty fast. In just a few days time, she was back home with her parents, but the reunion wasn't quite like she anticipated. Her father hit her in the face, bloodying her nose, for she was misbehaving and needed to be punished. However, It was the last thing he did. Morgana's eyes flared up like fire, and then she throw herself at the old man and began to hit him again and again and again, until the voice of her mother's screaming brought her back to her senses. Upon seeing what she had done, she fled the house, and never returned. For almost a decade, she roamed the country looking for answers. She met a few packs, and even joined some for a while, but after witnessing too many werewolves being slaughtered by a hunter due to a bad leadership, she decided to create a family of her own. Starting with Ryan, the member of one of those failed packs, called the the Topeka pack. She practically snatched him away from Jared, the pack's alpha', after thoroughly showing them how she felt about their ways. So she had one wolf following around, but she knew that, finding and collecting the lost puppies wouldn't be as easy as joining the already established pack (even though the kind of pack she'd feel confortable in wasn't easy to find). So, after moving to California, she soon found the trail on the newest pack that was in need of another female alpha. The previous one had been killed off by a hunter, and the pack was left chaotic after that. Since the past had shaped her into being a natural leader, with a strong sense for community, she soon claimed her place. With her parents both dead (her mother killed herself after witnessing Morgana's outrage) and having no other siblings, she would do anything to protect her current pack. They are her only family. Her strength and her weakness. As a leader she can be as motherly as she can be cold and brutal. She is respected for her fairness, cunningness, and fearlessness. She would stand no tratiors, and would advice anyone, who wanted to take her place, to think about it twice. For their own sake.</s> <\|message\|>Jesse Williams Where other members of the pack left their respective home or flat, giving their families the good-bye-smooch or some such nonsense, Jesse kicked her door close, leaving nothing behind but a messy, lifeless apartment. Reeking of copulation and the feral smell one would know from animal cages at the zoo. But ultimately, it was devoid of life today. It was rather usual for the fine lady Williams to kick temporary lovers out of her lair without mercy for their bodily well-being nor the accepted noise level of the block, though not today. She left on her own, in what one would call 'good' mood, wearing nothing less than brass knuckles on her right hand like shiny, sparkly jewelry. She passed a few others on the path down the stairway, gracefully ignoring their presence, uncaring wether or not they looked at her with hostility (that would be other wolves) or awe (as did the few human inhabitants of the building). She made her way out on the streets, bouncing rather than walking. It was the night before the night, and though the bar would be crowded with canines, it was a promising night for lovers of a good scuffle. About twenty minutes later, Jesse arrived at the bar. The acute observer would notice a time loss of about ten minutes, walking the distance from her apartment to the establishment, however. A fresh bundle of bank notes in her pocket as well as a few splatters of blood adorning her knuckle dusters and right arm implied the cause of her delay. Being without a steady income, the woman had to 'make' some money every now and then, and the unlucky victim of tonight was a semi-professional dealer trying to make some quick cash on her route to the pub. What the poor guy forgot to consider when picking a police-free neighbourhood was the better-than-average sense of smell a handful of people around here had, something that came incredibly handy when looking for a quick 'money dispenser'. After a quick 'chat' with the gentleman that thoroughly convinced him to avoid this area of Greyville in the future, Jesse arrived at the bar, quickly letting her blood-covered weapon disappear in the pockets of her sleeveless hoodie. She cared enough to superficially wipe the clearly visible blood on her arm away, leaving some less noticeable but still hardly secreted smears. Upon entering with an utterly amused expression - the evening started fairly entertaining after all - she sought a place at the counter, avoiding the general 'pack corner'. For her it was more fun to converse with the clueless human customers anyway, and that lessened the chances for a brawl with the other wolves too. Not that she was eager to avoid such a thing, but pretending to always looked better in the eyes of the alphas. Her choice of a seat was strategically closer to Avery than to Ryan. Unsurprisingly, she addressed the human when issuing her first order of the night. "Hey sweety, how about you pour me some vodka? Make it the good 'ol cheap stuff, alright?" Jesse wasn't the kind to ask for expensive stuff. Heck, she hardly ever had enough money on her to pay the tab after a night of drinking cheap shit. Living at the low end of low makes you numb enough to not care, though.</s> <\|message\|>Ryan Jameson Pounding the door until he heard the toilet flush was a good way to persuade Anton to actually flush her sick down. A single stall ladies room was within state regulations for a place this size, but only just. So when Anton opened up for Ryan, he was swinging so fast that he fell forward, spinning on his heel just in time to catch himself before clipping his face on the porcelain sink. "Christ Anton, you blew through that stuff, puke it down, then want more? If you weren't... well, you, then I'd say you're looking at killing your liver." Ryan knew for a fact, however, that there was no more of the 'Jet Fuel' behind the bar to be had. He'd have to go to the cooler for more. "Avery? Can you take over for me while I get more J-F for Anton? Thanks lovely!"</s> <\|message\|>Avery Avery wrote the special on the chalkboard after she went through her rounds, and as she did, she considered Ryan's questions. He had left before she could answer him, but she was glad for that. She didn't really have a relationship, but she wondered what would happen if she did. She knew how she would treat her boyfriend if she had one, and so she used her own advice to help Ryan. She didn't see him at the bar though. Strange, Avery thought. That was until she daw Ryan. He stood at the girls bathroom door, trying to communicate with someone on the inside. She sighed, and went into the back to prepare a hot herbal tea. Before she could though, she saw a blonde drawing all the attention, and smiled lightly. It was Fayth, and though Avery didn't know exactly how that girl made it in the world, she was kind of happy to see her. Fayth was always bright and bubbly. She heard Fayth call for her usual, and nodded. "Got it Fayth! It'll be there in a second." Then she heard another woman, and turned towards the voice with a curt nod. "On it." She rushed towards the bar, and looked under the counter for the vodka. She pulled out one of the cheaper brands, with a strong smell and a light kick. She poured it straight into a glass and sent it the lady's way. She took a chilled martini glass out of the freezer behind the bar, and grabbed the shaker on the way. She poured in some ice, some sour apple schnapps, vodka, and a sweet and sour mix. The whole concoction was very fruity, and it seemed like the perfect drink for Fayth. The mixture was soon shaken to perfection, and Avery poured it into the glass. She added a small black straw and two small cherries struck through with a plastic sword to mix, and started to bring it to the Fayth. "Fayth! Nice to see you!" Avery said, setting down the appletini and smiling brightly. "What are you doing out around here? I thought it was your day off!"</s> <\|message\|>Dimitri Kozlov The forceful wind pushed back against his hair and face, sending the short, dirty blonde locks backwards, but his sunglasses kept the wind from affecting his vision, allowing Dimitri to see ahead of him without any problems. His face was taut into a tight smirk, the wind nearly searing his skin with pure heat, but Dimitri's tough skin was used to biting, sharp cold, and extremely hot, sweaty climates, so this wasn't bad. Going 201 mph on his Suzuki Hayabusa, Dimitri loved this sort of adrenaline....everything moved by in a blur as he blazed a sparking, fiery trail down the mountain's long road, body spring-loaded and tense as he smoothly, sharply made a turn that sent him drifting on the curve, the back of his tire nearly touching the safety-gate that, if it hadn't been there, would probably have sent him flying off the mountain, into the forest below. Only the pure agilty and speed of his quick turning and his whip-smart brain allowed him to make the drift, and as the headlights of a nearby truck began shining in his direction, Dimitri steadily dropped his speed to a lower, but still dangerously fast, 94mph. The sound of his phone vibrating forced the hunter to lower his speed even more. At this point, Greyville was evident in the distance, and soon enough, he'd be on a high-population street, so he wouldn't even be able to go full speed. Keeping one hand on the gas and steering wheel, he opened up the text, reading it quickly. A smirk formed on his face. Yvette...a bar, hm? Probably the one that often times had an annoying lady that screamed and drank a lot of vodka, along with what seemed like the same group of people each, and every time. He had a nagging suspicion that something was going on there, but for now, it was more like a group of friends, than something more sinister. Putting his motorcycle back into gear, Dimitri gassed the engine. __________________ The tall man entered the bar, his dark, dirty blonde hair still rather wind-swept. Through the window, one could see the sleek, powerful black motorcycle that he had just parked outside, chained to the ground, and with small, unnoticeable silver spikes sticking out of the seat. The man glanced around once, gloved hands resting in the pockets of his leather jacket, before he caught sight of Yvette. Sitting down beside the other Hunter, Dimitri glanced up at a waitress, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. "A glass of water." He spoke up. His voice was deep, and rather accented with a noticeably Russian accent. He took off his sunglasses, exposing dark blue eyes, before pressing his gloved fingers against his temple. "A bar, girly?" The question was directed towards the smaller figure sitting beside him.</s>	<\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester The moon cycle was around again, surely like a clock that never stops ticking. And with that came the Backhouse. Ughh she hated that place. It reeked of alcohol, and reminded her of her own gruesome father, whose only purpose in this world was to indulge in that distasteful liquid. She never quite understood, why the werewolves would want to get drunk on the night before the full moon, or what was even the point of it, but since it was made a ritual, a filthy tradition, she could do nothing to prevent it. Yes, she was the alpha female, but she had no saying in this kinds of matters. Actually, she thought, she didn't have that many sayings in anything. It was always Carlson, who had the last word, which was overall fine as that's how the things work in the pack, but Mori was still getting annoyed. By the drinking, by the secrecy, by Ryan growling at her everytime she mentioned his boyfriend, and by her. Of course, Fay was there. Where else could she be? Oh, actually she could be anywhere, doing anything, it's a freaking miracle that she was now exactly where she was supposed to be. God, this Moon is making me crazy, Mori thought to herself, when she noticed how edgy she'd become upon arriving at the bar. She glanced over the bar, and her family members, and despite her better judgement decide to walk over to Fay, who was sitting by the counter. ''Fay,'' she said with a cold smile on her face. ''I thought we'd be missing you tonight, here. Don't you have anywhere else important to be? Like you do, you know…usually?'' Mori smirked at her, ordering herself a glass of juice as per usual.</s>
<\|description\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Age: 29 Appearance: Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega? Alpha Background: Morgana had always been an odd child. Unlike the other girls, she didn't care about the dolls and pretty dresses. She enjoyed spending her time with boys in the nearby forest. Hunting, fighting, building things...that was her definition of fun. Her father was an alcoholic, and he often took a swing at her and her mother. Morgana hated them both, equally. Father for his violence, and mother for her cowardness. She promised herself that one day she would put an end to all of this. Hanging out with the boys eventually made her stronger, and fearless to a fault, but nothing could equip her for vengeance better than what happened to her on one August's full moon night. She made a bet with the boys that she dares to walk across the forest alone, using only moonlight to light the way. She never thought she would be in danger out there. After all, the woods have been her second home. The place of joy, laughter, and freedom. She knew all the creatures that lived there, from a giant stag to a grumpy boar. But she had no idea that the forest had welcomed a new visitor. It all happened in a second. The sound of growling, ripping, screaming… And then nothing but silent darkness. She never learnt who was the werewolf that turned her that night. He left her alone in the woods, where she was later found by the local hunters, who took her to the hospital. She was badly wounded, but odly enough, her wounds had healed pretty fast. In just a few days time, she was back home with her parents, but the reunion wasn't quite like she anticipated. Her father hit her in the face, bloodying her nose, for she was misbehaving and needed to be punished. However, It was the last thing he did. Morgana's eyes flared up like fire, and then she throw herself at the old man and began to hit him again and again and again, until the voice of her mother's screaming brought her back to her senses. Upon seeing what she had done, she fled the house, and never returned. For almost a decade, she roamed the country looking for answers. She met a few packs, and even joined some for a while, but after witnessing too many werewolves being slaughtered by a hunter due to a bad leadership, she decided to create a family of her own. Starting with Ryan, the member of one of those failed packs, called the the Topeka pack. She practically snatched him away from Jared, the pack's alpha', after thoroughly showing them how she felt about their ways. So she had one wolf following around, but she knew that, finding and collecting the lost puppies wouldn't be as easy as joining the already established pack (even though the kind of pack she'd feel confortable in wasn't easy to find). So, after moving to California, she soon found the trail on the newest pack that was in need of another female alpha. The previous one had been killed off by a hunter, and the pack was left chaotic after that. Since the past had shaped her into being a natural leader, with a strong sense for community, she soon claimed her place. With her parents both dead (her mother killed herself after witnessing Morgana's outrage) and having no other siblings, she would do anything to protect her current pack. They are her only family. Her strength and her weakness. As a leader she can be as motherly as she can be cold and brutal. She is respected for her fairness, cunningness, and fearlessness. She would stand no tratiors, and would advice anyone, who wanted to take her place, to think about it twice. For their own sake.</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer Kalib let the woman take her bleeding friend from him and nodded. "Right," and headed inside. He recognized the black-haired bartender and ran to her. "Hey, call an ambulance. Some guy just fell outside and he's covered in blood! His friend it out there with him but he really needs to get to the hospital, and fast." Keeping his voice calm, he tried not to make anyone panic. He told himself in his head that the guy will be okay so long as 911 comes.</s> <\|message\|>Dimitri Kozlov Dimitri scowled once he saw the guy ask for the ambulance, rather than getting a medkit, as asked. Maintaining his temper; which he was rather easy at, the Russian got up from where he was leaning on the wall, nearby, moving towards the bar's counter. Easily sliding over, he quickly located the red and white medkit, underneath the counter's tabletop. Grabbing it, Dimitri slid back over the counter, long legs quickly striding him over to where his two accomplices were leaning against the building, outside. His sunglasses were back on, hiding his eyes, but it also allowed him to see easily, despite the darkness from the nightsky. Crouching down, Dimitri handed Yvette the first-aid kit, before taking a few steps back, so that he wouldn't get in her way. First-aid was definitely not his forte, and he knew that Yvette had training in it...most-likely from her delusional Uncle. "Dumbass..." He muttered underneath his voice, once again, but it was unknown on who the insult was directed towards.</s> <\|message\|>Nanix Erka Nanix watched Kalib come and tell her to call 911, then Demitiri come and take the kit. "... something tells me that guy has it" She pointed to him. "you want a drink?"</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer "Huh?" He turned, seeing the tail end of a hulking man leave with something red and white. ". . . . Oh. Er, okay. A rum and cola, please. . ." Kalib said, awkwardly seating himself at the bar. He felt like a spaz for running in like that, and a blockhead for not going for the first aid kit. Attempting not to look as embarrassed as he felt, he leaned against the counter. "How's the night going for ya? Got a lot of tips?" With the multiple times the pack has gone drinking before the full moon, Kalib had began to favor this bartender more then her co-workers and silently scolded himself for not asking her name after all this time. Seeking a peek over his shoulder, he wanted to see if anyone was staring or, at least, not noticing him. "Man, you mucked this one up real good. How will the pack expect to rely on you when you're being stupid and can't handle getting the first aid kit." Chastised his mind. It was one thing being one of the younger werewolves in the pack; its quite another being a young omega who needs to do his job.</s> <\|message\|>Avery Wind Avery listened patiently as Fayth talked and talked about the boys and getting tipsy, her lips almost never stopped moving. It could be good though, at times. Especially when things got uncomfortably silent. Then Fayth mentioned something about a gross guy who needed help, and Avery looked around, her tired eyes frantic. Yet...She saw no one. Avery turned back to Fayth and squinted. "Fayth, are you sure? I don't see anyone. Did he leave, did he look confused?" She resisted the urge to rest her hand on Fayth's forehead to check for a fever. "If you're busy right now, I'll let you get back to your friend's while I make my rounds. Uhh, ladies, do you want anything? Refills, food. Anything?" She took out her little notepad, flipping it open and bringing out a mechanical pencil, covered in scratches and stickers of rainbows. "I suggest our cosmos with a strawberry topping or a lemon twist. Its delicious!"</s> <\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow Between talking about guys and keeping track of everyone at the bar, this was getting exhausting. 'Yes, I'm sure you idiot.' She thought. Tired of everyone giving her lip. Seemed everyone had something to say around here. God, putting up with Jesse and her bad habit of street fights, Mori's suspicions, Ryan's boyfriend. Fayth needed to let out a big sigh. Instead of sipping on that weak appletini like a ditzy blonde girl would, she straight chugged it down in one go. 'Fuck, that's gross.' Fayth cringed. A whiskey girl at heart. Her hand grabbed a hold of Jesse's arm and she made sure to look at her. Even if Jesse might not make eye contact, Fay kept a steady and intense gaze on her face. "We can pick up the tab in much better ways. Safer ways." Keeping in mind everyone around. "Like, I could give you such great pointers, girlie!" Flash the big smile for the cameras. Turn, pose. Then looking over at Mori, she pat her on the back. "I'll be back honey, I know you want to talk to me so so badly." Fayth looked up at Avery. "By the way, this sweetheart right here," indicating Mori, "She ordered her usual. Some juice. No alcohol can you believe it? It's like she's against fun or something." Fay turned to the door. Her scent picking up the blood easily. It made her hair rise and her heart race faster. The blood of animals, she could deal with. But humans? She wanted to stay clear of that path. It didn't lead anywhere. Nowhere except a place of tears and blood. On her way out, Fay yelled out over to Kalib. The other omega who in fact was doing just fine. Calling 911 was one half of the job, the first-aid kit was the second. "Get on the phone and call 911, alright? Sound good? Great." Fay nearly rolled her eyes click-clacking with her ridiculous heels on out the door. Once outside she caught sight of the tall, muscular Russian. He didn't look like someone anyone would like to pick a fight with. Not even a guy Fay would like to fight. Then again, if she could avoid every fight, she would. Not to mention, while Fay was coming out to check on Thomas' health (he was a solid drinking partner), the beep of his phone also interested her. A quick snatch of his cellphone could be nice. The item could sell for a few dollars. Good money. Two problems being Dmitri standing there, and Yvette also watching over him. Fay kneeled down with Yvette. "Do you know what you're doing? If you don't, say so right now and I can take over from here! I'm having an ambulance called because let's be real here guys, he def needs to get to the hospital." Fay paused for a second. Looking at Thomas who was bleeding out. "Gauze, anti-septic wipes, anti-biotic, use the goddamn gloves or risk infecting him, and hurry up and use that mother fucking adhesive tape. If you don't hurry up, I will!"</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer Catching Fay's command as she, too, left out the door, Kalib felt only a smidge better knowing another omega was here in case he messed up. He pulled out his phone and dialed emergency services, telling them the situation, and getting back to what he was doing. "If that guy really does need help, at least someone's coming." He thought, a little less dismal this time. Shoving the negative thoughts from his head, he bucked up and resolved to focus on his job. Turning in his seat, he looked about the scene with alertness. If anything else were to go wrong, he'd make sure he'd catch it (and that he didn't do it himself). It seemed that the usual suspects were at the bar that night. The alphas, a few betas, a bunch of townsfolk looking to have a good night. Even though he was at the bar, he wasn't expecting to get too drunk that night. It wouldn't be new if a few hunters would try to scope out targets a few days before the full moon and Kalib wasn't going to let anyone hurt their pack. Not on his watch.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir @Trinais ~Anton~ Anton watched Ryan walk away with hungry eyes and made herself comfy on her chair. She should really come here regularly - force Ryan into working weeks, perhaps? Anton didn't really know how she felt about Ryan. His eyes are so dreamy... She was awoken by a rapid voice in her ear. "You are done drinking." "Fuck off Carlson. I can drink as much as I intend to. Which, like all of the rest of my private life, is none of your business." Anton watched Thomas being tended to by, literally, everyone. She took this as an opportunity to get away from Carlson, and lifting herself over the bar, went into the cooler room where she found Ryan. "Hey, Ryan? I've waited long enough, where do you store my Vodka?" She began rooting through cupboards without waiting for an answer. 'Fuckin' Ryan,' she thought.</s>	<\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Mori Did it only seem or was the bar really unusually loud that night? Sure, it was a rush hour, like every other month before the full moon. A pack of wolves ordering drinks, and causing minor troubles that come with that, then some other human locals, who were also more or less regular costumers in the bar. In all that crazy bunch, Mori noticed three fairy new visitors, who on a first glance seem to know each other. And yet they did not make an entrance together. That guy, who soon became the center of all the attention, bursting in the bar covered in blood, and then Mr. Muscles, as Fay called him, drinking water, while everyone around him was indulging in the mind numbing liquid. He sure seemed like a dream date for Mori, but judging from herself, she knew that you should never trust a man who does not drink alcohol, because they are probably up to something. She lost herself in thought with scanning the mysterious threesome, and completely overhead Fay's words about her not being fun due to drinking juice. When she finally got her drink, she realized all the fun had already moved outside, with the three strangers gone, and of course Fay, who seemed to take control of the situation pretty well. Strangely enough, that didn't bother Mori at all, what bothered her was the fact that Carlson was giving all the attention to Anton, who did what she knew best – victimize herself with overdrinking, and then getting all the attention for it. ''Carlson!'' she called for her partner, who didn't seem to hear her the first time. ''God dammit, Carlson!'' she called for him again, and then walked herself right next to him, right at the moment Antony managed to get away from his norturing grip. ''Something's up,'' she said through her teeth, looking at Carlson to see if he was monitoring his surroundings at all. ''Something is not right here. I can feel it.''</s>
<\|description\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Age: 29 Appearance: Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega? Alpha Background: Morgana had always been an odd child. Unlike the other girls, she didn't care about the dolls and pretty dresses. She enjoyed spending her time with boys in the nearby forest. Hunting, fighting, building things...that was her definition of fun. Her father was an alcoholic, and he often took a swing at her and her mother. Morgana hated them both, equally. Father for his violence, and mother for her cowardness. She promised herself that one day she would put an end to all of this. Hanging out with the boys eventually made her stronger, and fearless to a fault, but nothing could equip her for vengeance better than what happened to her on one August's full moon night. She made a bet with the boys that she dares to walk across the forest alone, using only moonlight to light the way. She never thought she would be in danger out there. After all, the woods have been her second home. The place of joy, laughter, and freedom. She knew all the creatures that lived there, from a giant stag to a grumpy boar. But she had no idea that the forest had welcomed a new visitor. It all happened in a second. The sound of growling, ripping, screaming… And then nothing but silent darkness. She never learnt who was the werewolf that turned her that night. He left her alone in the woods, where she was later found by the local hunters, who took her to the hospital. She was badly wounded, but odly enough, her wounds had healed pretty fast. In just a few days time, she was back home with her parents, but the reunion wasn't quite like she anticipated. Her father hit her in the face, bloodying her nose, for she was misbehaving and needed to be punished. However, It was the last thing he did. Morgana's eyes flared up like fire, and then she throw herself at the old man and began to hit him again and again and again, until the voice of her mother's screaming brought her back to her senses. Upon seeing what she had done, she fled the house, and never returned. For almost a decade, she roamed the country looking for answers. She met a few packs, and even joined some for a while, but after witnessing too many werewolves being slaughtered by a hunter due to a bad leadership, she decided to create a family of her own. Starting with Ryan, the member of one of those failed packs, called the the Topeka pack. She practically snatched him away from Jared, the pack's alpha', after thoroughly showing them how she felt about their ways. So she had one wolf following around, but she knew that, finding and collecting the lost puppies wouldn't be as easy as joining the already established pack (even though the kind of pack she'd feel confortable in wasn't easy to find). So, after moving to California, she soon found the trail on the newest pack that was in need of another female alpha. The previous one had been killed off by a hunter, and the pack was left chaotic after that. Since the past had shaped her into being a natural leader, with a strong sense for community, she soon claimed her place. With her parents both dead (her mother killed herself after witnessing Morgana's outrage) and having no other siblings, she would do anything to protect her current pack. They are her only family. Her strength and her weakness. As a leader she can be as motherly as she can be cold and brutal. She is respected for her fairness, cunningness, and fearlessness. She would stand no tratiors, and would advice anyone, who wanted to take her place, to think about it twice. For their own sake.</s> <\|message\|>Carlson Jakes Carlson Carlson turned to Kalib, and firmly stated - seeming to ignore Anton's whining and insubordinace "Kalib, get Anton back to the apartments. I am done dealing with her like a whining child." He said evenly, and with purpose. He had more important things to do, and he quickly realized that Anton's alcohol issue was not his problem- not right now anyway. He then, finally, turned to Stiofan "Don't follow them, Stephen, please" He requested "I will gather the Omegas tomorrow and draw up a battle plan of sorts. I don't like this just as much as you don't.... also, I want you there at the Omega meeting, is that clear?" Nanix Nanix grabbed Anton's arm "Who the HELL do you think you are?? That broken bottle is gonna come right out of my paycheck you twit!" She was not above yelling, like Carlson was, and she certainly was ready to kick Anton out.</s> <\|message\|>Anthar "Shadow Bolt" Raclaw Wow, this is going surprisingly well! He had very little experience with women, since life as a hunter does not leave much time for leisure. Anthar put on his best smile, trying not to look nervous and said: "That is why I came here after all. And I won't mind sharing my drink with a pretty lady like yourself!" He noticed her eyeing his muscular torso. That is one of the perks of being a werewolf hunter. He opened the door to the bar, and held it open for her, remembering the laws of etiquette. The moment he opened the door, the raucous sound of yelling came rushing out at him. There was a strong smell of alcohol and he could see blood drops all over the floor. The place was full of people, mostly between the ages of 20 and 30, and they all seemed to be angry. This isn't how I remember bars looking like. He didn't see anyone he knew inside. Not that he was surprised, he was new to this town, but anyway he had already found someone to talk to, or so it would seem.</s> <\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Mori Mori's mind was running a million miles a minute, trying to figure out whether this guy was a hunter in disguise, or was he just a random guy, wanting nothing but to get into some woman's pants. Either way, she decided to play it safe. As a woman she didn't care much for romance or male chivalry, so she'd never expect any man to hold the door for her the way this stranger did. Not really knowing how to respond, she just smiled akwardly, and stepped inside the bar, where chaos still persisted. At that point, Mori haven't had a plan yet as what to do with a possible hunter by her side, but she figured it would be better to handle things by herself. By the looks of it, she couldn't rely on anyone from her pack at that moment, because they all seemed to be busy with either Anton's or Fay's trouble-making. But still, she should at least tell someone of her intentions. ''Hey, I'm going to get us a bottle, and then we can head somewhere more quiet than this. There's a free storage room near the toilettes. I'm sure nobody will disturb us there,'' Mori purred with a seductive voice, she didn't knew she had up to that point, and winked at him. She then turned around, and almost throw up a little in her mouth, being disgusted by this whole flirting thing. She walked toward the bar, completely ignoring everything that was going on there, including Fay and her raging. She again approached Kalib, who seemed a bit confused, and frustrated, probably by the fact that no one was listening to him. ''Calib,'' she called for him. ''Change of plans. We are staying. I think we have a hunter in our midst. I'm going to go check him out. Privately. Inform Carlson. Be ready if something goes wrong,'' she instructed him quickly, while grabbing the first bottle of alcohol she could reach. She then took a walk back to her date, took his hand and pulled him toward the toilettes.</s> <\|message\|>Ryan Jameson Dammit all, but he hated Pack Night. Anton always got completely knocked off her rocker, the place became a mess, and Ryan had to leave early with everyone (full moon and all that), leaving Avery to clean up after this pack of mutts. Ryan had been able to mitigate this mess by hiding Anton's "jet fuel" vodka in a separate cooler from the rest of the hard stuff. He couldn't NOT sell to The Backhouse's most lucrative customer, but Mori's dislike of the hard drinking was well known. So Ryan took the initiative in hiding the heavy stuff in the meat locker. It was all well and good until his phone started buzzing. Michael. "Hey babe! What's up?" "Hey hon, just calling to let you know I can't find the house key, so the front door is going to be unlocked. That cool?" Not in the slightest. Aside from the usual home invaders, Ryan had a nasty feeling that, tonight of all nights, they needed to lock up the house. But he couldn't force Michael to stay home all night, not with his boyfriend already pissed and suspicious about the "Fishing trip" tonight. "Yeah babe. That's cool. I'll call one of the neighbors and ask them to keep an eye on the place." Of course, there was a loud crash of glass on hard floor, along with Anton's cursing from the regular booze cooler. Dammit all to hell! "Listen babe, gotta go- I love you!" "Bye." Great. Not even an 'I love you too.' He was in deep this time. Ryan snagged two bottle of jet fuel and hoofed it out of the freezer, shutting and locking the door behind him. He'd get to the broken glass later, but as he made it back behind the bar it dawned on him how packed the place had become. Full house- humans and wolves. Pretty soon the kitchen would be running orders out too. "Anton," he said, putting one bottle on the counter and another behind it. "This is your cutoff point. Just for making a mess in the back I'll have to clean up." Without another word, Ryan passed the second bottle of Jet Fuel to Mori. If the human didn't know what the stuff was, he'd get wasted in no time and not know which way was up. Mori would know how dangerous the stuff was to one's liver and tongue just from dealing with Anton. Leaning in to Mori, he said "Boss, I, ah, I'm gonna be late tonight. Michael lost his house key. Gotta lock up before group meeting."</s> <\|message\|>Anthar "Shadow Bolt" Raclaw "Toilets huh? Sounds romantic!" Anthar winked back at the girl as she walked away to get a bottle. I'm either very lucky or my nightmares have stopped and this is a dream. This is going really good. Almost too good... And why did that guy just pass her a bottle? Anthar was beginning to suspect something else was really going on here. But what if I'm just being paranoid and she's really into me? Ah, fuck it, I'm just being stupid. What is the worst that could happen? I have my two loyal pistols with me. She was back with the bottle, and with a seductive look she took his hand and pulled him to where he guessed the storage room was. "Hey, I don't think I got your name. I'm Anthar by the way. Anthar Raclaw." He was getting more excited and nervous with each second that passed.</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer He took in Mori's newest order and went straight back to Carlson, observing the surroundings as he went. The pack sure did a number on the bar every time they got here, he felt really bad for the staff. "Carlson, Mori just told me she thinks there's a hunter here in the bar. She wants everyone to stay." He paused for a moment, considering his most previous order from an alpha. "Should I still be bringing Anton home?" He asked with uncertainty. Sometimes having two alphas was helpful but other times, like now, it was a little confusing. Looking sideways as Anton stuffing her face with table popcorn, Kalib certainly hoped that no trouble would come about because he was sure that Anton wasn't going to be any help if, say, a fight happened. He also hoped that Fay was sober enough to help if the hunter caused problems for them. Their pack was strong but if half the wolves were drunk then. . . It'll suck for them, big time. As he waited for a response, he kept an eye on Anton in case he really had to bring her home.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir ~Anton~ Anton could barely stand it. Carlson was shouting commands for Kalib to make her leave, this random chick was clinging on her and basically screaming at her. Then Ryan had said no more drinks purely for the mess she made. AND Mori said we're not leaving, so who knows what to believe? Anton screamed as loud as she could to shut everyone up. "I will leave, ok? But don't expect to find me at my apartment." And with that, she promptly stormed (well, stumbled) out, flinging everyone off her. 'Hm, where should I go? Ooh, I know,' she thought whilst walking along, 'I'll go to the dump. Nobody will think to find me there!' And, thinking she was pure genius, Anton set off to the dump. She thought nobody was looking, so she applied a bit of ye olde 'wolf speed, jumping over bins and all that rubbish. She made it there easily and quickly, and began kicking the dirt around, taking out her anger. After a while of getting rid of the hate, Anton sat down against the wall and began to silently cry.</s>	<\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester ''Call me Mori,'' she smiled back at him, while leading him to a half-empty storage room. Inside, there were some stacks of beer cans, a few spared chairs, and a billiard table. Overall, a nice quiet place. ''Here... That's much better, isn't it?'' she asked, and turned around on her heels, facing him with a wondering eyes, while leaning her behind on a table. She then looked at the bottle she was holding, realizing for the first time just what kind of liver poison had Ryan given her. Oh, great! Since she wasn't much of a drinker, in fact she didn't drink alcohol at all, she had no idea, what kind of effect would that liquid have on her. She only knew that werewolves were supposedly able to drink more of it than ordinary humans did, before passing out, that is. Either way, she cared so much for her pack that she was prepared to break one of her most fundamental rules - no drinking alcohol. ''So, stranger, tell me about yourself. What is a man, handsome as you are, doing alone in this rat-hole? I know you are not from here, so don't lie,'' she asked him softly, while pretending to be awfully clumsy with opening that bottle in order to appear much weaker than she actually was.</s>
<\|description\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Age: 29 Appearance: Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega? Alpha Background: Morgana had always been an odd child. Unlike the other girls, she didn't care about the dolls and pretty dresses. She enjoyed spending her time with boys in the nearby forest. Hunting, fighting, building things...that was her definition of fun. Her father was an alcoholic, and he often took a swing at her and her mother. Morgana hated them both, equally. Father for his violence, and mother for her cowardness. She promised herself that one day she would put an end to all of this. Hanging out with the boys eventually made her stronger, and fearless to a fault, but nothing could equip her for vengeance better than what happened to her on one August's full moon night. She made a bet with the boys that she dares to walk across the forest alone, using only moonlight to light the way. She never thought she would be in danger out there. After all, the woods have been her second home. The place of joy, laughter, and freedom. She knew all the creatures that lived there, from a giant stag to a grumpy boar. But she had no idea that the forest had welcomed a new visitor. It all happened in a second. The sound of growling, ripping, screaming… And then nothing but silent darkness. She never learnt who was the werewolf that turned her that night. He left her alone in the woods, where she was later found by the local hunters, who took her to the hospital. She was badly wounded, but odly enough, her wounds had healed pretty fast. In just a few days time, she was back home with her parents, but the reunion wasn't quite like she anticipated. Her father hit her in the face, bloodying her nose, for she was misbehaving and needed to be punished. However, It was the last thing he did. Morgana's eyes flared up like fire, and then she throw herself at the old man and began to hit him again and again and again, until the voice of her mother's screaming brought her back to her senses. Upon seeing what she had done, she fled the house, and never returned. For almost a decade, she roamed the country looking for answers. She met a few packs, and even joined some for a while, but after witnessing too many werewolves being slaughtered by a hunter due to a bad leadership, she decided to create a family of her own. Starting with Ryan, the member of one of those failed packs, called the the Topeka pack. She practically snatched him away from Jared, the pack's alpha', after thoroughly showing them how she felt about their ways. So she had one wolf following around, but she knew that, finding and collecting the lost puppies wouldn't be as easy as joining the already established pack (even though the kind of pack she'd feel confortable in wasn't easy to find). So, after moving to California, she soon found the trail on the newest pack that was in need of another female alpha. The previous one had been killed off by a hunter, and the pack was left chaotic after that. Since the past had shaped her into being a natural leader, with a strong sense for community, she soon claimed her place. With her parents both dead (her mother killed herself after witnessing Morgana's outrage) and having no other siblings, she would do anything to protect her current pack. They are her only family. Her strength and her weakness. As a leader she can be as motherly as she can be cold and brutal. She is respected for her fairness, cunningness, and fearlessness. She would stand no tratiors, and would advice anyone, who wanted to take her place, to think about it twice. For their own sake.</s> <\|message\|>Jesse Williams Jess reached the cold, refreshing outside unnoticed. The air inside the bar was stagnant as hell, but one didn't notice unless confronted with normal levels of oxygen. The young woman took a few deep breaths, looking like she simply enjoyed the prickly cold sensation. But really, she was sniffing out the trace of Fay and Anton. As soon as she picked up the scent of the latter, her strolling pace turned into a bouncy, accelerated fast-walk. Those two, together in the same place, possibly far off from possible witnesses? That had to end in a bloody mess. There was no way Anton and Fay would have a normal talk ever, Jesse thought. Too much bad blood, omega vs ex-omega tension. A great deal of that instigated by her own petty lies whenever she tried getting Anton to attack someone, no doubt. To be fair, this pairing was the most obvious target for any instigator with half a brain. Though taking her time at first, Jess soon became impatient. How far had they gone? What where they doing anyway? Did Fay maybe plan to beat up Anton tonight, in secret, so she wouldn't be able to help Jess gang up on her at the noon-beat down? As dishonorable that would be, it was not beyond Fayth. A woman did a lot of despicable things to save her face. A dirty smirk crept on Jess face at the notion, how far the shining example of an omega had fallen. The scent became stronger around the old dump. Curious place to go at night indeed. Jess felt the cold steel of her brass knuckles and clutched them in her fist, invisibly inside her pocket. She could hear two familiar voices and quietly crept around the piles of trash and junk, not silent enough to properly sneak up on someone with their sense of hearing, but not eagerly giving away her presence either.</s> <\|message\|>Anthar "Shadow Bolt" Raclaw Anthar twisted softly, not expecting the bottle to be closed so tight. It was. Failing to open it the first time, he tried a second time with more force, finally getting it opened. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Now she will think I'm weak. Trying to hide his embarrassment, Anthar smiled at Mori. "I think we're missing some cups." He turned around searching the shelves around him for cups. He spotted a few glasses sitting next to some utensils on one of the shelves. He took two and set them down on the billiard table, then he poured from the mysterious drink into both glasses. He put down the bottle and handed one glass to Mori and the other he took for himself. "Cheers!" He raised his glass high, then put the glass to his lips and took a sip. "Wow, that is some strong shit!" He exclaimed, scrunching up his face. It was stronger than that vodka Randal gave him when he turned 21. "Anyway, what is a beautiful woman like you doing alone at a bar in the middle of nowhere?" he asked. He could already feel the alcohol starting to take effect.</s> <\|message\|>Thomas Young Thomas A steady sound of beeps greeted Thomas as he woke up, the smell of slight death was in the air. Slowly opening his eyes, the sound of beeps was apparently his heart rate, and being strapped in a ton of IV and his arm practically in mummy wear, the white walls and the plain walls quickly made him realize that he was admitted at a Hospital, again. "Crap, again huh? Well whatever, haha." he said outloud to no one in particular. Noticing no one was really around, he shrugged it off "Well I was never really the popular one." he said then laughed in a slightly sad tone. Lying back down, one of the Nurses entered and became wide eyed at Thomas, quickly running off and fetching one of the doctors. The doctor came in and told him about how he was lucky and the like for surviving with that deep of a wound and blood loss, Well that's not the first time I've heard that. he thought to himself. After a bit of surprised faces and condemning tone about him not going to the hospital immediately. Thomas just nodded and smiled and they seem to let him off the hook, though one of the Nurses has been glancing at him frequently with a tinge of red. He raised an eyebrow to this and thought, Must be imagining it. After a bit of more talking and the like, they finally let him rest, with a sigh he lied back down on his bed and was about to close his eyes, reaching for his phones where he thought it was, patting around the area he quickly became anxious. That phone... It fucking has all the hunters information. Where did I lose it? Calling one of the Nurses, the nurse who came was the one who Thomas thought she was glancing at, though she didn't meet his gaze, he sternly said to her, "Would you mind getting the woman who brought me here, right now, there's an issue." with only a wondering gaze, she nodded and disappeared into the hallway. Sighing, he lied back down again.</s> <\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow The Black "Follow him." Sound on the other end of the phone. "Your wounds will heal. Follow him." Fire glowed around the face of a muscular, powerful man. Scruffy face with the look of a man who had seen far too many winters. Where smiles went to die. Inside one of the caves they found in Greyville, The Black stood amongst his other spies. The entire pack was not present. Just The Black, his son Eric, and another of his trustworthy scouts; Jake. His follower who had escaped Thomas' traps and inflicted wounds on him was Deon. "Deon. I won't ask again." Silence on the other end, then sound. "Good. Text me the address of the hospital he ends up at." Click, the phone slipped into his pocket. One step ahead of everything. The Black turned to his son. "Put the fire out. We're moving out. I'll need you to keep watch at the hospital for suspicious humans. Notify me immediately." "Are you going to kill him?" "No. He might lead us right to your sister." "If she's even here." "I've been a tracker for many years. The trail continues here… I need to put fear and doubt in these hunters anyway." The orange glow within the cave snuffed out. Darkness as the men swiftly ran through the woodlands of Greyville. Running with unnatural grace and speed through the forests. Seeing in the night what no one else could see. Smelling and hearing what humans would miss. Soon the text came rolling in. Not long after, The Black appeared at the hospital. "Look casual." To this, Eric and Jake pulled out cigarettes and smoked. Looking around at anyone walking in or out of the hospital. The Black trotted forward. Boots on his feet. Dark jeans and a tight black shirt. His eyes an unnatural golden color that he couldn't turn off anymore. A trait he had gained from killing too many people. Though, he attributed it to a medical issue. Still, The Black did not fear to be seen by hunters like this. He disappeared into darkness much to quickly. The Black entered the hospital and exchanged looks with Deon who acted as a waiting visitor, sitting on one chair. Hiding the wound on his back and his leg. Healing quick. "Excuse me, my son was just admitted in here." "Name?" "Young. Marcus Young. His name is…" "Thomas?" "Yes." "One moment." The nurse left the desk for a moment. The Black leaned over the desk to see her computer. Thomas' information posted up. Including the room number. Within a moment, The Black was gone as she arrived back at the desk. Moving away and heading up an elevator. He walked down the hall. Boots slammed against the ground with heavy, ominous thuds. Arriving at his room and opening the door once Thomas's nurse had left. The Black strolled in. Grabbing a chair and taking a seat. "Hello, Thomas." The Black pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. "You don't mind, do you?" He didn't care. The Black lit the cigarette and smoked near Thomas's bed. Even when he lit the cig, his golden glare never left Thomas. "Those are some wounds on you. Must've been one hell of a knife fight." Deep breath. "Unless it was an animal you were hunting. A wolf maybe…"</s> <\|message\|>Thomas Young Thomas As he was lying down on his bed, the constant beeps of his heart rate became white noise to him. He was about to fall back to sleep due to the comfy bed he was lying on, this was till an immense feeling of dread filled his being. He looked around and saw a tall, figure, his very presence oozed fear, not towards him, but to others around him. His presence choked up Thomas, if there were ever alarms in your head that tells you something is dangerous, this was the time. He entered the room, then strides to a chair and quickly gets comfortable. Thomas' fight or flight kicked in and his adrenaline started to pump. "Hello, Thomas." said the tall frame with a cold and menacing tone, "You don't mind, do you?" while lighting a cigarette, with no apparent care for Thomas' consent. His Golden eyes was an oddity that perturbed Thomas, he couldn't help but feel a bit unnerved. "Those are some wounds on you. Must've been one hell of a knife fight." he said with a deep breath, glare never leaving his own, "Unless it was an animal you were hunting. A wolf maybe…" Through general conception and judging by his demeanor and cold eyes, he had already figured out this intimidating stranger was infact a werewolf. "Who are you." was the only phrase Thomas was able to choke out, practically glaring at him at this point.</s>	<\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Oh, for God's sake, you don't have to pretend. I know you hunters aren't as strong. She thought while observing him struggle with opening that bottle. While he was searching for the cups, Mori listened to the sounds coming from the bar, trying to distinguish what was going on in there. Since there was no sound of screaming, yelling or breaking things, she concluded that everything was alright. With hidden disgust she took the cup Anthar had given her, and clenched her fingers around it, wondering how could she get herself out of drinking alcohol. She followed Anthar's example, and raised her cup high in the air, only to then lower it again, far from her lips. His particular facial expression was enough proof to her, that she made a right decision not taking a sip. If Jet Fuel did that to him, God knows what would have done to Mori. But since she couldn't just stand there with a full cup in her hands, she had to act quickly. After his question, she took a few steps forward, and landed her hand gently on his chest. She licked her lips while observing his, and then raise her gaze up to his eyes. ''Me? Oh, I just come here to lure good looking men into this room, and then tricking them into drinking that awefully strong shit of a vodka,'' she smiled temptingly, sliding her hands to the sides of his waist as she was slowly to hug him.</s>
<\|description\|>Anthar "Shadow Bolt" Raclaw Age: 27 Appearance: Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Hunter If hunter: Were you born into it or did you become one by choice?: The answer is in the background, if it's not OK let me know! Background: Grew up in an orphanage in a bad neighborhood, never knowing who his parents were. At age 13 he fled the orphanage and took to the streets. He quickly learned to survive by pick-pocketing and thieving, and in times of need disappearing into the shadows, and he got quite good at it. One time when he was 17, he saw a man who seemed an easy enough target, so Anthar tried his trick of bumping into the target, then sticking his hand in the pocket and stealing whatever was there. His hand closed on a wallet. It felt quite fat, and fat means more cash, so smiling he pulled his hand out, still clenching the wallet. But before his hand left the pocket, he felt a big strong hand grasp his hand tightly. 'I've been caught!' he thought to himself, and tried to escape the powerful grasp of the hand, but to no avail. He looked up at the man and saw the man was grinning. Ten years later, under the training of that same man, who Anthar now knows as Randal Helwich, a successful werewolf hunter, Anthar has become a master of most weapons, though he favors the crossbow. He also has two Colt Python pistols (he uses silver bullets of course) which he can fire with extreme accuracy, and a silver machete coated with wolfsbane that he uses for close-combat. Randal taught him how to track werewolves, how to kill them and when to run away. He learned everything there is to know about hunting them. Randal gave Anthar a small bag of wolfsbane which hangs from a string that he wears around his neck. He told Anthar that that amulet has been passed on from father to son in his family for generations, and the amulet not only weakens werewolves, but it also protects the wearer from turning if bitten by a werewolf. A few weeks before, Anthar and Randal ran into some trouble on a hunt for a werewolf that had escaped from the last pack they destroyed. The werewolf surprise-jumped Randal, and they fell wrestling on the ground. Anthar aimed his crossbow at the werewolf, and fired. The bolt went through the werewolf's neck. Anthar ran to Randal and threw the dead werewolf off of Randal. To Anthar's dismay, he saw that the bolt went straight through the werewolf and was stuck halfway in Randal's chest. Randal was dead. For the past few weeks Anthar has been blindly hunting down pack after pack all over the country, seeking revenge. He will not stop until all the werewolves are dead, or he himself dies. On one of these hunts, he was tracking a werewolf who supposedly killed a few hunters. The werewolf with the scar beneath its left eye. He followed its footsteps and ended up at a warehouse. Anthar carefully entered the warehouse, looking in every direction. He noticed that someone had set traps all over the place. At the last moment Anthar noticed a razor sharp string. It was stretched out a few centimeters in front of his throat. He could already smell that it was laced with wolfsbane. Another hunter. Interesting. He continued carefully avoiding the many traps. Suddenly he heard a scream of pain. definitely a werewolf. He ran towards the noise. When he arrived he saw he had missed all the action. The werewolf he was tracking was lying dead, his throat slashed open. Lying beside the werewolf was a man, a hunter by the looks of him. He ran to the hunter and saw that on the hunter's left arm was a huge cut. The man already lost a lot of blood, and it didn't show any signs of stopping. He quickly picked up the unconscious hunter and carried him out on his back. He drove to the hospital as fast as his Chevy Impala '67 could go. A few days after that incident Anthar was contacted by a clan of hunters with a base in a town called "Greyville". They asked him to join their clan. The pay was pretty good, but Anthar wasn't the type of working together with others. On the other hand, working alone did get quite lonely at times. Anthar thought about it for some time, then decided he would go and check out the clan. Greyville was only 5 hours drive away, and he didn't find any new werewolf tracks anyway. The clan was a good bunch of people. Their leader, James, was very experienced and was a good leader too. Anthar was tired of being lonely with no one to talk to and he needed some cash for his gas and beer, so he decided to join them. Pretty cool to be part of a clan anyway.</s> <\|message\|>Anthar "Shadow Bolt" Raclaw Wow, this is going surprisingly well! He had very little experience with women, since life as a hunter does not leave much time for leisure. Anthar put on his best smile, trying not to look nervous and said: "That is why I came here after all. And I won't mind sharing my drink with a pretty lady like yourself!" He noticed her eyeing his muscular torso. That is one of the perks of being a werewolf hunter. He opened the door to the bar, and held it open for her, remembering the laws of etiquette. The moment he opened the door, the raucous sound of yelling came rushing out at him. There was a strong smell of alcohol and he could see blood drops all over the floor. The place was full of people, mostly between the ages of 20 and 30, and they all seemed to be angry. This isn't how I remember bars looking like. He didn't see anyone he knew inside. Not that he was surprised, he was new to this town, but anyway he had already found someone to talk to, or so it would seem.</s> <\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Mori Mori's mind was running a million miles a minute, trying to figure out whether this guy was a hunter in disguise, or was he just a random guy, wanting nothing but to get into some woman's pants. Either way, she decided to play it safe. As a woman she didn't care much for romance or male chivalry, so she'd never expect any man to hold the door for her the way this stranger did. Not really knowing how to respond, she just smiled akwardly, and stepped inside the bar, where chaos still persisted. At that point, Mori haven't had a plan yet as what to do with a possible hunter by her side, but she figured it would be better to handle things by herself. By the looks of it, she couldn't rely on anyone from her pack at that moment, because they all seemed to be busy with either Anton's or Fay's trouble-making. But still, she should at least tell someone of her intentions. ''Hey, I'm going to get us a bottle, and then we can head somewhere more quiet than this. There's a free storage room near the toilettes. I'm sure nobody will disturb us there,'' Mori purred with a seductive voice, she didn't knew she had up to that point, and winked at him. She then turned around, and almost throw up a little in her mouth, being disgusted by this whole flirting thing. She walked toward the bar, completely ignoring everything that was going on there, including Fay and her raging. She again approached Kalib, who seemed a bit confused, and frustrated, probably by the fact that no one was listening to him. ''Calib,'' she called for him. ''Change of plans. We are staying. I think we have a hunter in our midst. I'm going to go check him out. Privately. Inform Carlson. Be ready if something goes wrong,'' she instructed him quickly, while grabbing the first bottle of alcohol she could reach. She then took a walk back to her date, took his hand and pulled him toward the toilettes.</s> <\|message\|>Ryan Jameson Dammit all, but he hated Pack Night. Anton always got completely knocked off her rocker, the place became a mess, and Ryan had to leave early with everyone (full moon and all that), leaving Avery to clean up after this pack of mutts. Ryan had been able to mitigate this mess by hiding Anton's "jet fuel" vodka in a separate cooler from the rest of the hard stuff. He couldn't NOT sell to The Backhouse's most lucrative customer, but Mori's dislike of the hard drinking was well known. So Ryan took the initiative in hiding the heavy stuff in the meat locker. It was all well and good until his phone started buzzing. Michael. "Hey babe! What's up?" "Hey hon, just calling to let you know I can't find the house key, so the front door is going to be unlocked. That cool?" Not in the slightest. Aside from the usual home invaders, Ryan had a nasty feeling that, tonight of all nights, they needed to lock up the house. But he couldn't force Michael to stay home all night, not with his boyfriend already pissed and suspicious about the "Fishing trip" tonight. "Yeah babe. That's cool. I'll call one of the neighbors and ask them to keep an eye on the place." Of course, there was a loud crash of glass on hard floor, along with Anton's cursing from the regular booze cooler. Dammit all to hell! "Listen babe, gotta go- I love you!" "Bye." Great. Not even an 'I love you too.' He was in deep this time. Ryan snagged two bottle of jet fuel and hoofed it out of the freezer, shutting and locking the door behind him. He'd get to the broken glass later, but as he made it back behind the bar it dawned on him how packed the place had become. Full house- humans and wolves. Pretty soon the kitchen would be running orders out too. "Anton," he said, putting one bottle on the counter and another behind it. "This is your cutoff point. Just for making a mess in the back I'll have to clean up." Without another word, Ryan passed the second bottle of Jet Fuel to Mori. If the human didn't know what the stuff was, he'd get wasted in no time and not know which way was up. Mori would know how dangerous the stuff was to one's liver and tongue just from dealing with Anton. Leaning in to Mori, he said "Boss, I, ah, I'm gonna be late tonight. Michael lost his house key. Gotta lock up before group meeting."</s> <\|message\|>Anthar "Shadow Bolt" Raclaw "Toilets huh? Sounds romantic!" Anthar winked back at the girl as she walked away to get a bottle. I'm either very lucky or my nightmares have stopped and this is a dream. This is going really good. Almost too good... And why did that guy just pass her a bottle? Anthar was beginning to suspect something else was really going on here. But what if I'm just being paranoid and she's really into me? Ah, fuck it, I'm just being stupid. What is the worst that could happen? I have my two loyal pistols with me. She was back with the bottle, and with a seductive look she took his hand and pulled him to where he guessed the storage room was. "Hey, I don't think I got your name. I'm Anthar by the way. Anthar Raclaw." He was getting more excited and nervous with each second that passed.</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer He took in Mori's newest order and went straight back to Carlson, observing the surroundings as he went. The pack sure did a number on the bar every time they got here, he felt really bad for the staff. "Carlson, Mori just told me she thinks there's a hunter here in the bar. She wants everyone to stay." He paused for a moment, considering his most previous order from an alpha. "Should I still be bringing Anton home?" He asked with uncertainty. Sometimes having two alphas was helpful but other times, like now, it was a little confusing. Looking sideways as Anton stuffing her face with table popcorn, Kalib certainly hoped that no trouble would come about because he was sure that Anton wasn't going to be any help if, say, a fight happened. He also hoped that Fay was sober enough to help if the hunter caused problems for them. Their pack was strong but if half the wolves were drunk then. . . It'll suck for them, big time. As he waited for a response, he kept an eye on Anton in case he really had to bring her home.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir ~Anton~ Anton could barely stand it. Carlson was shouting commands for Kalib to make her leave, this random chick was clinging on her and basically screaming at her. Then Ryan had said no more drinks purely for the mess she made. AND Mori said we're not leaving, so who knows what to believe? Anton screamed as loud as she could to shut everyone up. "I will leave, ok? But don't expect to find me at my apartment." And with that, she promptly stormed (well, stumbled) out, flinging everyone off her. 'Hm, where should I go? Ooh, I know,' she thought whilst walking along, 'I'll go to the dump. Nobody will think to find me there!' And, thinking she was pure genius, Anton set off to the dump. She thought nobody was looking, so she applied a bit of ye olde 'wolf speed, jumping over bins and all that rubbish. She made it there easily and quickly, and began kicking the dirt around, taking out her anger. After a while of getting rid of the hate, Anton sat down against the wall and began to silently cry.</s> <\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester ''Call me Mori,'' she smiled back at him, while leading him to a half-empty storage room. Inside, there were some stacks of beer cans, a few spared chairs, and a billiard table. Overall, a nice quiet place. ''Here... That's much better, isn't it?'' she asked, and turned around on her heels, facing him with a wondering eyes, while leaning her behind on a table. She then looked at the bottle she was holding, realizing for the first time just what kind of liver poison had Ryan given her. Oh, great! Since she wasn't much of a drinker, in fact she didn't drink alcohol at all, she had no idea, what kind of effect would that liquid have on her. She only knew that werewolves were supposedly able to drink more of it than ordinary humans did, before passing out, that is. Either way, she cared so much for her pack that she was prepared to break one of her most fundamental rules - no drinking alcohol. ''So, stranger, tell me about yourself. What is a man, handsome as you are, doing alone in this rat-hole? I know you are not from here, so don't lie,'' she asked him softly, while pretending to be awfully clumsy with opening that bottle in order to appear much weaker than she actually was.</s>	<\|message\|>Anthar "Shadow Bolt" Raclaw Her eyes are stunning. "Well Mori, I hunt vampires for a living. I'm a vampire hunter." Anthar paused a few seconds, then put on a small smile. This wasn't the first time he had to answer that question, so he had an answer ready. "I'm joking of course. I am an artist. A painter. I travel the country looking for small towns like this. Small towns usually have the best views, and also they give me inspiration." Anthar noticed Mori was struggling to get the bottle open. "You need help with that?" Anthar pointed at the bottle, "What is it? Whiskey?"</s>
<\|description\|>Abigail Blanchett Age: 17 Gender: Female Appearance: Abigail is fairly tall, standing around a solid 5'7". Her natural skin color is usually quite pale compared to most other people. A rather striking feature, that a lot of people find rather attractive. Her feature she likes most, however, is her hair. Her long purple hair is usually tied back into a pony tail. Most people tend to notice her bright green eyes at first, however, much to her own chagrin. She hates the color green. Despite her liking her hair, she doesn't particularly care so much about her appearance. Despite her mom being a bit of a fashionista, she's always taken after her father - an ex Private Investigator. (Also ignore that blue streak. Just now noticed it, and I am too lazy to find another picture xP) Personality: Where to start with her personality? If one were to go by first impressions only, they would simply assume that she's a girl who thinks she's ten times better than everyone at everything. She will often state how much she doesn't like other people and do it quite loudly as well. Its the honest truth, to her. She thinks everyone else will slow her down. She doesn't like interacting with other people, even more so when its against her will. So this whole journey thing, is going to be...interesting, for her at least, since she find most other people quite annoying. However, despite that grumpy, somewhat brash, some would even say arrogant exterior, is a girl who really and truthfully just wants a friend who'll put up with her nonsense, no matter how troublesome she could possibly be. Unfortunately, 'friendship' is a foreign concept to her and she had no idea how to even be friendly. Most often, she can only resort to some sort of insults or something else that makes her seem like she only did something for herself. However, once she finally warms up to someone, they'll find a secret side to her that is surprisingly thoughtful, and a bit on the sweet side. That doesn't mean its any easier for her - in fact, she's quite nervous about being seemingly to be nice to people. Most often, they'll find her a stuttering and blushing mess, especially if said being nice involves some kind of physical contact, like say...a hug. Think of her as a grumpy Tsundere cat that secretly likes being cuddled with~ xP History: Abigail is originally from Kalos, growing up in the center of of the country - Lumiose. She was born to a mother who was a rather well known fashion designer, and her father who was a Private Investigator. For a time, she grew up there and was quite happy with her life. Well, happy to her in any case. Her parents, despite being rich didn't want to spoil their daughter so they made her work for almost anything she wanted. So, at an early age she developed a need to be the best at everything she worked at. Working harder yielded better rewards, no? When she was around the age of six, her father and mother split - though she never understood why exactly. She moved to Johto with her father, and they settled down in the city of costal city of Olivine, where she spent the rest of the years growing up. Her father was a bit less lax on her being spoiled, but by now she had gotten it into her head she had to be the absolute best. Actually, no, she was the best and she wasn't going to let anyone tell her otherwise. She graduated trainers school at the top of her class a few years later when she was 16. After that, she wasn't quite sure what to do with her life. Sure trainer school was promising and all, but she had never actually considered it as an actual career...but oddly enough, the allure of danger and adventure was just too good, despite the law stating travelling in pairs was necessary. So, she signed up for a license, and set off for Newbark Town. Quirks/Habits/Other: - Surprisingly, likes eating a lot. Good food is just one way to get on her good side. Where it all goes...people don't know. - She's surprisingly strong for her size. Physical fitness was something her father also drilled into her. She still likes doing a light jog in the mornings, and waking up at the crack of dawn. - Do not mess up her hair. its the only thing she actively takes care of appearance wise. Mess it up, you will die. - has an interest in martial arts, but has never actually tried learning them. Inventory: - Pokeballs x5 - Burn Heal x5 - Paralyze Heal x5 - Sleep Heal x5 - Antidote x5 - Potion x5 - First-aid kit, for minor scrapes and injuries (x1) - Extra clothes x2 (including pajamas) - Holo-caster, souvenir from Kalos. Works with older and other phones too, but no Hologram will be displayed unless it's communicating with another Holo Caster. - Hair-Care products, and various hair ties - Camping stuff. - 100$ - Johto Map - Repel (x2) All stuffed into her shoulder bag, rather unorganized. Pokemon: Received from Professor Elm Name: Tyrian Gender: Male Ability: Poison Point Brave Nature Good Perseverance Personality: Some might say he's a bit on the derpy side, but if pokemon could talk, he'd simply say he's highly curious about the world. Level: 6 Moves: Leer Peck Caught on Route 29 Gender: Female Ability: Swarm Impish Nature Likes to thrash about Personality: A mischievous little bug, who really doesn't seem to like humans so much. Level: 4 Moves: Poison Sting String Shot Theme~ xP TL;DR: A somewhat Arrogant Tsundere, who really doesn't seem to like people, but secretly likes being cuddled with by people she likes. Her color is PURPLE</s> <\|message\|>Peggy Atkinson - Peggy Atkinson - With that single slap, chaos broke lose from the rest of the group, and Peggy, currently seeming to be in a state of shock from what she had just done, just watched blankly as the madness unfolded. Jackson pulled out a guitar-like instrument and started playing a mocking song, unmistakably directed at Abigail, and Blake was now in hysterics. Avery, with a shout of "Aww… GROUP HUG~!", gathered both Peggy and Abigail in a warm, friendly embrace, and Peggy could only imagine he was trying to act peacekeeper. Her body tensed at the contact. She got hugs from her mother often, as Erica seemed to need some reassurance throughout the day that Peggy was not only safe, but still loved and appreciated her as a mother. However, Peggy hadn't been hugged by a guy for over a year now, since her grandfather had died, it made her feel uncomfortable. She apparently wasn't the only one. "G-get off!" snapped Abigail. Peggy could see that she blushing as she tried to pull away from the boy. Seemed like she and Abigail ahd at least one thing in common. "Arceus Avery, warn me next time when you're going to go touching people! Some of us don't...don't like...uhm...the whole...touching thing." After getting free of Avery's hug, Abigail turned back to Peggy. "You know," she continued. "I'm not going to waste my time on someone with such hideous taste in clothes." The words stung a little, but no where near as much as Abigail's earlier comments about Peggy's family. "I mean really, green? That is the most disgusting color in the history of mankind. I think you'd actually look better in...maybe a bright red? Perhaps a blue or a yellow." Peggy didn't say anything in return and simply watched as Abigail walked off a little away from the rest of them. Was she mad? Upset? It seemed like she might be. Melody followed soon after, and Peggy was left there, being awkwardly hugged by Avery. After a moment, Peggy pulled away from Avery's hug, feeling the shock starting to wear off a little and give way to sensations of guilt and shame. Why had she done that? Peggy hugged hers arms to her chest, looking down at her shoes. Yes, what Abigail had said was mean, but was hitting her really the best response? She should have just sucked it up and remained silent and unmoving, should have just taken it. At worst, she should have attempted some kind of retort, not too hurtful but snappy enough. But no, Peggy'd gone and overreacted. Big surprise. While Peggy was moping, Jasper had been watching her trainer with half-interested expression, but seemed to be getting bored now that Peggy had gone all mopey on her and turned her attention to some leaves blowing past, carried by a gentle breeze, and went after them, batting and swiping at them with her paws in a manner that partly playful, yet partly aggressive. Now that the chaos was slowly started to die down, Ryley, clearly the most mature of the group, stepped forward. "How about we make camp soon guys? I don't know about you guys, but a bit of rest sounds amazing". Peggy didn't respond, didn't feel she had the right to speak at the moment after how she had behaved and simply shifted her weight awkwardly from foot to foot.</s> <\|message\|>Alexander "Alex" Elric -Alexander Elric- Well... This was different. So, to recap what had just happened: Abigail was verbally attacking Peggy, Peggy retaliates with a slap. In response Jackson starts to ridicule Abigail with a song and Blake starts laughing his ass off about the whole occurance. And to top it all off the airhead Avery, who was completely oblivious to everything, difuses the situation with a hug... What!? Riley came up with the briliant idea of setting up camp. Finally someone that made sense! Alex looked over at the rest of the group. Abigail and Peggy both didnt look so good. No wonder, Peggy is as introverted as can be and was the center of all the attention just now, ofcourse she's not doing so well now. And Abigail... As much as he might dislike her, she was being picked on by everyone right now. No one deserves that, not even Abigail. The sun was setting and Alex was thinking about where to set up camp. But first he had something to make clear to the group... Alex walked up to Blake who was still rolling around on the ground laughing at what just happened. Alex gave a "gentle" kick to Blakes head. "Get up idiot! Stop making a fool out of yourself!" He turned around to face Jackson. "And you, do you think this is the right time for a song?" Alex faced the rest of the group. "Are you all insane? Nightfall is close, we should be setting up camp and all we are doing is squabling amongst ourselves or rediculing members of our group. Is this how we are going to act from now on?" He looked at Jackson and Blake, then at Abigail. "Yes, we might not all agree with one another and yes, some people might have left a bad first impression. But does that really mean we should already shun them? Already mock them?" Alex walked up to Abigail. "I'm sorry for my comment about your hair earlier, it was uncalled for." He looked over at Peggy and then back at Abigail. "And I think you realise that what you said to Peggy was uncalled for aswell so please, for the sake of the group, would you want to appologise about earlier to her? Maybe she would then appologise to you aswell." He smiled at Abigail, hoping that it would convince her... And Eevee bumped with his little head against Abigail, trying to push her towards Peggy.</s>	<\|message\|>Abigail Blanchett By now, she had put a few yards of distance between herself and the rest of the group. She had no more desire to socialize with any of them, and if at all possible, once they got to Cherrygrove she'd probably head off by herself without them. Damn the laws. She could take care of herself, she always had. She always had to, and that wasn't gonna change now. "Abigail…they're all idiots. You know that, right? Your suggestion was just as good as theirs, and they had no right to act the way they did. But, uh… I'll always be your friend. And I'm always on your side. Okay?" Just one little pink-haired problem. "Friend? Don't make me laugh." Abigail snapped. "I don't know why you're being so friendly Melody, but I'm not an idiot. I'm not really a nice person, I get that, and I really don't care. Those morons can all get eaten by a wild mightyena for all I care." She stopped, turning around the face the other girl. "So. Why are you really being nice to me, hmm? Not like we're friends, We've known each other for barely even a half of a day." She sighed, taking her purse and setting it on the ground, arceus, she was tired for some reason. "So why, don't you, leave me alone." She said to Melody. "How about we make camp soon guys? I don't know about you guys, but a bit of rest sounds amazing". Thankfully, she wasn't the only one who said camp would be a good idea. She could use the sleep....hell, she might wake up early enough tomorrow and head to Blackthorn by herself. Tyrian and her new spinarak would definitely be up to the task, she was sure. "I'm sorry for my comment about your hair earlier, it was uncalled for. And I think you realise that what you said to Peggy was uncalled for aswell so please, for the sake of the group, would you want to appologise about earlier to her? Maybe she would then appologise to you aswell." Annnd just as she finally drowned out the rest of the groups nonsense, one of the idiots decided to walk up. The one who made a comment about her hair. What was his name? Alexander. Right. He was apologizing, and he wanted her to apologize?! Pfffft. The thought made her laugh again. These idiots... "Like I'm apologizing to her." She said to Alexander. "And she doesn't need to apologize either." She continued with a huff. "I mean't every word I said. If that daddy's girl doesn't toughen up, she's gonna get hurt. So no, I'm not apologizing. I said it, and I meant it. Honestly, I think her slapping me was a good start." She smugly replied, like she had helped Peggy in some way. "Now why, don't you all leave me alone, hm? I have no desire to talk with you idiots any more. Ah...just one thing. I think making camp would be a good idea. We can decide where we're going tomorrow morning." With that, she said nothing more to Alexander, Melody, or the rest of the group and went about setting up her own little campsite.</s>
<\|description\|>Abigail Blanchett Age: 17 Gender: Female Appearance: Abigail is fairly tall, standing around a solid 5'7". Her natural skin color is usually quite pale compared to most other people. A rather striking feature, that a lot of people find rather attractive. Her feature she likes most, however, is her hair. Her long purple hair is usually tied back into a pony tail. Most people tend to notice her bright green eyes at first, however, much to her own chagrin. She hates the color green. Despite her liking her hair, she doesn't particularly care so much about her appearance. Despite her mom being a bit of a fashionista, she's always taken after her father - an ex Private Investigator. (Also ignore that blue streak. Just now noticed it, and I am too lazy to find another picture xP) Personality: Where to start with her personality? If one were to go by first impressions only, they would simply assume that she's a girl who thinks she's ten times better than everyone at everything. She will often state how much she doesn't like other people and do it quite loudly as well. Its the honest truth, to her. She thinks everyone else will slow her down. She doesn't like interacting with other people, even more so when its against her will. So this whole journey thing, is going to be...interesting, for her at least, since she find most other people quite annoying. However, despite that grumpy, somewhat brash, some would even say arrogant exterior, is a girl who really and truthfully just wants a friend who'll put up with her nonsense, no matter how troublesome she could possibly be. Unfortunately, 'friendship' is a foreign concept to her and she had no idea how to even be friendly. Most often, she can only resort to some sort of insults or something else that makes her seem like she only did something for herself. However, once she finally warms up to someone, they'll find a secret side to her that is surprisingly thoughtful, and a bit on the sweet side. That doesn't mean its any easier for her - in fact, she's quite nervous about being seemingly to be nice to people. Most often, they'll find her a stuttering and blushing mess, especially if said being nice involves some kind of physical contact, like say...a hug. Think of her as a grumpy Tsundere cat that secretly likes being cuddled with~ xP History: Abigail is originally from Kalos, growing up in the center of of the country - Lumiose. She was born to a mother who was a rather well known fashion designer, and her father who was a Private Investigator. For a time, she grew up there and was quite happy with her life. Well, happy to her in any case. Her parents, despite being rich didn't want to spoil their daughter so they made her work for almost anything she wanted. So, at an early age she developed a need to be the best at everything she worked at. Working harder yielded better rewards, no? When she was around the age of six, her father and mother split - though she never understood why exactly. She moved to Johto with her father, and they settled down in the city of costal city of Olivine, where she spent the rest of the years growing up. Her father was a bit less lax on her being spoiled, but by now she had gotten it into her head she had to be the absolute best. Actually, no, she was the best and she wasn't going to let anyone tell her otherwise. She graduated trainers school at the top of her class a few years later when she was 16. After that, she wasn't quite sure what to do with her life. Sure trainer school was promising and all, but she had never actually considered it as an actual career...but oddly enough, the allure of danger and adventure was just too good, despite the law stating travelling in pairs was necessary. So, she signed up for a license, and set off for Newbark Town. Quirks/Habits/Other: - Surprisingly, likes eating a lot. Good food is just one way to get on her good side. Where it all goes...people don't know. - She's surprisingly strong for her size. Physical fitness was something her father also drilled into her. She still likes doing a light jog in the mornings, and waking up at the crack of dawn. - Do not mess up her hair. its the only thing she actively takes care of appearance wise. Mess it up, you will die. - has an interest in martial arts, but has never actually tried learning them. Inventory: - Pokeballs x5 - Burn Heal x5 - Paralyze Heal x5 - Sleep Heal x5 - Antidote x5 - Potion x5 - First-aid kit, for minor scrapes and injuries (x1) - Extra clothes x2 (including pajamas) - Holo-caster, souvenir from Kalos. Works with older and other phones too, but no Hologram will be displayed unless it's communicating with another Holo Caster. - Hair-Care products, and various hair ties - Camping stuff. - 100$ - Johto Map - Repel (x2) All stuffed into her shoulder bag, rather unorganized. Pokemon: Received from Professor Elm Name: Tyrian Gender: Male Ability: Poison Point Brave Nature Good Perseverance Personality: Some might say he's a bit on the derpy side, but if pokemon could talk, he'd simply say he's highly curious about the world. Level: 6 Moves: Leer Peck Caught on Route 29 Gender: Female Ability: Swarm Impish Nature Likes to thrash about Personality: A mischievous little bug, who really doesn't seem to like humans so much. Level: 4 Moves: Poison Sting String Shot Theme~ xP TL;DR: A somewhat Arrogant Tsundere, who really doesn't seem to like people, but secretly likes being cuddled with by people she likes. Her color is PURPLE</s> <\|message\|>Ryley Grisdoe ~Ryley Grisdoe~ Well, the Growl attack did slow the Onix down, but not when it decided to use it's brain. Ryley couldn't help but groan. Of course it knew Rock Polish. Of course. And just to add to this wonderful mess, a torrent of rocks pelted down ahead of them. That certainly didn't help their escape. Hell, Abigail nearly got crushed by one! ...He recalled Fern just in case. Running was still the best option, but it was getting bleaker by the second. They needed to slow down the Onix even more. There were trees around them. Bringing one down in front of, or even on the rock snake would slow it quite a bit. The problem was finding a way to bring a tree crashing down. As Ryley was entertaining ways to fell a tree, Melody decided to act. "Run, Abigail! It's too fast, we have to split up!" ...No no no. Splitting up would be the worst thing to do now. They needed to find a way to slow it down with a variety of- "I'll try and lead it in a different direction. You guys get away, I'll be fine!" No no no no no no no. No no no. No. What the hell Melody. Seriously, what the hell. You don't just do that. You don't just lead a gigantic rock snake away all by yourself. She had gotten into a dangerous situation earlier with the Spinarak, but that was different as they didn't know how dangerous it was. This time, they all knew the danger (Well, maybe not Avery…), and Melody was still… By the time Ryley's thoughts cooled down, Melody had managed to distract the Onix, and was leading it away from everyone else. She was fast, he had to give her credit, but a speed boosted Onix wasn't anything to wag a finger at. ...And here he was, just standing like an idiot. Well, time to act. Deja vu could really suck sometimes. "I'm going to hate myself for this…" Muttering contemptuously helped calm him down as he made his next move, calling out to the group. "I'm going after her. She's going to get herself killed". Without waiting for a response, Ryley turned around and chased after Melody. He couldn't see either Melody or the Onix in sight, but the trail of destruction certainly helped. It took a while to catch up, but when he did, his blood ran cold. The Onix was there, but it had stopped. Frightening on its own, but the scary part was Melody was nowhere to be seen. Ryley's thoughts turned towards various scenarios that could have played out, none of them pleasant. Almost all of them ending with Melody being dead. At least, they all did until Ryley noticed a flash of pink in a bush by the trail. That was a big relief. She wouldn't be able to hide long at that spot, but at least she was alive. Now the burden of action lay upon Ryley. What would be the best course of action in this case? He needed to get in contact with Melody, make sure she was okay, but the Onix was currently looking around, probably for Melody, which inhibited his actions. First he needed to distract the snake somehow. The rest could come later. Ryley picked up two decently sized rocks laying in the Onix's wake and threw them in quick succession in the opposite direction of Melody's location. As he waited for them to land, he noted the direction he threw them in was towards the Spinarak nest. Maybe, just maybe, he could use that to his advantage. In any case, as soon as the rocks landed, the Onix turned towards the new sounds created. Best case scenario, the Onix would follow the sounds presuming that's where Melody fled. As for almost every other scenario, more work was to be done. Ryley used his created opportunity to rush over to Melody's hiding spot, sliding behind the bush, hopefully out of view. He had to make this brief. "Sorry for barging into your party, but we need to lead it to the Spinarak nest". Ryley couldn't look to see what the Onix was doing, but he hoped it was blindly following the sounds of the rocks. That would save them from the possibility of death. Y'know, nothing big or anything.</s> <\|message\|>Melody Avery Hemlock ~Melody Hemlock~ Sounds. Lots of sounds. Footsteps, the light breeze, the unmistakeable sound of a giant rock snake sliding along the ground… Well, it was a lovely day for dying. That, at least, was for certain. And then suddenly, there came a voice out of nowhere, like a messenger of salvation. If she was religious, she'd have said that it was like he'd been sent by Lord Helix himself. "Sorry for barging into your party," said Ryley. "But we need to lead it to the Spinarak nest." Melody stared at him. She… hadn't really expected anyone to come after her. Really, she'd basically resigned herself to a slow and painful death. But… Ryley had come after her. Ryley had followed her right into the face of danger, and now here he was, trying to save her. She wanted to cry, and she really wasn't sure why. Her throat felt a little tight. This boy can be your friend too, whispered the ugly little voice in Melody's head. You wanted friends, didn't you? He's not Abigail, but protect him with your life anyway. And maybe if you stick with it for long enough, he'll be grateful enough to be your friend forever. That's what you want, right? To have friends? It wasn't fair to think like that, and Melody shook herself. They had to survive the Onix first. But she smiled tentatively anyway. She had to be brave, even if Abigail wasn't here, and especially in front of… her newest friend. Because really-- someone showing up to save your life, right in the nick of time? Well, it's pretty hard not to feel grateful to them. Even if you're probably both going to die. "T-thanks," she said tentatively. A quick glance up told her that the Onix was heading in the opposite direction. Were they in the clear? "For… for coming after me. I didn't think anyone would." Unfortunately not. Even as she watched, it swung around, starting to head back. Ryley was still standing up— not good. Melody thought fast: in a surprising display of strength, she yanked him down onto the ground next to her. "Sorry," she whispered, recalling her Pokemon at the same time. And then it hit her… like a ton of rocks. Heh. So paying attention in biology in middle school was going to pay off after all. "Let's play dead," she said, as softly as she could manage. "I don't know if we'll be able to lead it to the Spinarak nest in time. But… Onixes don't eat meat, do they? I'm pretty sure they only eat rocks. So it was probably chasing us because it was angry, not because it actually wants to eat us. If it thinks we're dead, it'll leave us alone... uh, hopefully."</s>	<\|message\|>Abigail Blanchett "Run, Abigail! It's too fast, we have to split up! I'll try and lead it in a different direction. You guys get away, I'll be fine!" Well, Abigail wasn't going to be arguing with that. If the pink haired girl was going to pretend to be bait, then she wasn't going to argue. Not at all. Not like she even cared about what would happen if the Onix did, in fact catch her. The girl said nothing as Melody ran off, the Onix speeding off after her while Abigial ran in the direction that was not going to lead to certain death. She still didn't really understand why the girl would even do that for her of all people, but she wasn't going to lose sleep over it. So, she ran as fast as she could. After a few minutes, she was sure her and the others were fairly safe. At least, safe enough and far enough away from the Onix. She was a bit winded, but nothing too bad. Thank Arceus for morning runs and other work outs. After catching her breath for a few seconds, she turned around, Tyrian seeming to be bored and sitting idly on the ground by her feet, as though he had already forgotten about the onix. "I think...I think we're good." she said to the others with a laugh. "First attacked by a nest of angry spinaraks, and then chased by an Onix! Well, that's a fun way to start our little adventure!" She said, dropping her bag on the ground, her stomach growling somewhat loudly in the process. "Uhm...well. Who says we make camp now? I could go for some food." Camp, and food, that sounded wonderful right now. And then tomorrow they'd head towards Cherrygrove. Blackthorn was out of the question now, since that Onix was standing between them and the road there, and not to mention it had chased them away from it. Oh well. She'd go there later...and catch a Skarmory later.</s>
<\|description\|>Melody Avery Hemlock Age: 16 Gender: Female Appearance: Standing at about 5'2", Melody's small stature and general lack of presence make fading into the background pretty much a fact of her existence. As a matter of fact, the most eye-catching thing about her is her hair… but even that's mostly because it's bright pink and really, really long. Despite this, the importance of taking care of one's appearance is one of the few things that Melody's mother took the time to drill into her head, and as a result, Melody is exceptionally good at things like doing hair, applying make-up tastefully, and color-coordinating outfits. While she isn't a fashionista by any stretch of the imagination, Melody always looks presentable... even though half the time, no one's really registered her presence well enough to appreciate it. Personality: Melody's a fairly sweet girl most of the time. She's not particularly shy, and really quite talkative, once someone's actually noticed she's there. As a girl brought up in a well-to-do family by parents who placed a high value on manners, Melody is polite to everyone and anyone, even if it's mostly by force of habit. In other words, she's really quite friendly, and for all appearances, harmless. Beneath that well-mannered exterior, however, is an obsessively clingy girl with a grip like a vice and some incredibly possessive tendencies. Melody cherishes her friends… maybe a little too much, actually. Even though she's never really experienced a long-term friendship, the concept of "best friends forever" is one that is very close to her heart. Often, she fixates on a person so intensely that she'll let almost nothing stand between them. When someone she cares about is in danger, she's more protective than a mother Ursaring whose cubs are being threatened, and more vicious than an Arbok with a grudge. She hasn't quite crossed the line into psychopathic yet, but back in middle school she was involved in a quickly hushed-up incident featuring her best friend, a boy who had a crush on her best friend, and a stapler. Melody definitely has a manipulative streak, and isn't afraid of using underhanded methods to get what she wants. History: As the only child of a pair of hard-working, fairly wealthy businesspeople, Melody grew up in a frequently empty house in Goldenrod City, with only the maids to keep her company. Because of her parents' jobs (and, on one occasion, that one incident in middle school involving a stapler), she's had to transfer schools many times. As a result, she's never quite been able to form any solid relationships, and always treasured company, prizing friendship above all else… even her morals, at times. Although she wasn't home very often, Melody's mother held manners and the traditionally feminine disciplines in high regard. As a result, Melody grew up to be polite to a fault, and quite skilled in areas such as cooking and cleaning. In fact, since she often had nothing to do but practice cooking, Melody's cooking is actually rather incredible. However, since she never quite figured out how to work the television in the living room or the desktop in her parents' room, Melody is fairly technologically illiterate. Melody has wanted to be a Pokemon trainer since her childhood, primarily for one reason: the legal mandate on travelling in pairs or more. While there is no question about the fact that she likes Pokemon and the thrill of battling, Melody sees her Pokemon journey as her ticket to a "best friend forever"… and that's something that she would never pass up. Because of this, Melody studied hard in every one of the trainer schools that she's attended. As soon as she reached the minimum legal age of obtaining a license, Melody jumped at the chance to become a trainer, and left home the day after her sixteenth birthday. Her parents, unsurprisingly, were on a business trip at the time, but they did call her to wish her farewell... a day or two after she set out for New Bark Town. Quirks/Habits/Other: - Despite her rather fragile appearance, Melody is impressively strong. She doesn't pull her punches, either, so getting into a brawl with her is... not the best of ideas. - Melody is a fantastic cook and a master of all things traditionally feminine, from cooking to cleaning to baby-sitting. - Computers, microwaves, refrigerators... you name it, Melody can break it. She'd probably like video games, but she's never played one before because she can't figure out how to work a PC without completely destroying it. - Melody harbors a secret fondness for cooking shows, animated TV shows and movies, and murder mystery novels. - Melody has a terrible sense of direction. Like, it's really, really bad. Inventory: - Pokeballs (x5) - Burn Heal (x5) - Paralyze Heal (x5) - Sleep Heal (x5) - Antidote (x5) - Potion (x5) - First-aid kit, for minor scrapes and injuries (x1) - Switchblade, for... "cooking and self defense" yeah right (x1) - Full set of clothing (x3) - Cheap and almost indestructible Nokia phone (x1) - Toiletries (x1 bag) - Hairbrush (x1) - Make-up and beauty products (x1 bag) - Agatha Christie's "Five Little Tepigs" (x1) - Sleeping bag, assorted camping equipment (x1) - Wallet, containing $100 (x1) All of these items have been neatly packed into a shiny new white-and-pink backpack. Well, except the switchblade. That's in her pocket. Pokemon: Tesla the Mareep Male Lvl 7 Acquired from Prof. Elm Ability: Static Has a modest nature. Often dozes off. Moves: Tackle, Growl, Thunderwave LOLBAT the Zubat Male Lvl 3 Caught on Route 29 Ability: Inner Focus Has a timid nature. Quick to flee. Moves: Leech Life TL;DR: A girl who, despite her well-mannered and friendly appearance, is actually incredibly clingy and obsessive. In other words, a borderline yandere. Theme Song: Going with pink for her text colour, again. Mostly because of her hair… and so I can transition into red for her scary moments.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Blanchett ~Abigail Blanchett~ "Aww, look at them! They're adorable!" Well, she had to admit to herself. That was kind of adorable. Even the fluffball of a pokemon seemed to be oddly cute in this situation. Still, she made no attempt to acknowledge it. Instead, she focused on Professor Elm. Well, she had everything that she would need for the trip, at least until they got to a Pokemart so they could buy more supplies. Still, she could use a map, and it seemed there were only three left. Hrm...nah, she'd be fine without one. She'd just take one of the others if she had to. Chances were, she was one of the only people here that could read one competently. As Elm continued to talk about them needing to stay together she gave an impatient huff as she reached down and carefully plucked her Nidoran off of the Mareep, making sure to not touch its fur. "Alright little guy. Nap times over." She said, getting a somewhat annoyed response from the pokemon. "Oh shut it." She huffed, cradling the pokemon in her arms again. "Now stay put or I'll put you back in the pokeball, alright?" He seemed to understand that at least, and gave a small huff of annoyance as he rolled his eyes. Soon professor Elm had finished speaking. Well, now that the old man had finished, could they get going? "I think you can do it. Be the best that is. Well, you've kind of got to now that you've said it. I'm Avery, by the way. Glad to meetcha. I'm looking forward to seeing you win." ...what? She actually had to visibly process what he had just said. Did he...completely miss that insult? Was he just dense? Or did he really just not care?...well, either way, he was annoying her. She didn't need some loser encouraging her. She could do just fine at motivating herself without the help of some probably 3rd rate trainer. In response, she simply scoffed. "I'd say I was glad to meet ya too, but It'd be a lie." She replied. "All of you, are my competition. I don't intent to get friendly with any of you. But thanks for the encouragement. I'll make sure to think of you for more than a second when I do win." With that, she walked away from the group, grabbing a few of the repels, and the last map, ignoring the new guy or the fact that Peggy had started to hyperventilate. Might as well get the last one, no one else seemed to keep on getting it and it would always be good to have another.</s> <\|message\|>Alexander "Alex" Elric -Alexander Elric- Well, apparently the problem has solved itself... kinda. The Nidoran and the Mareep were getting along well but it still seemed that miss purple hadnt learned humility, blaming the poor owner of the Houndour for not controlling her Pokemon. And the worst part about it, it seemed like the girl accepted that it was her fault. Alex felt sorry for the girl, she seemed nice and didnt deserve to be treated like this. Maybe he could help her with her Houndour? Meanwhile, another guy had ran in and he had taken the Totodile. The Totodile seemed to think that his new owner looked like a snack and gave a very loving greeting. Well, that's a way to show your affection I guess. The guy then started playing a tune on his music instrument and started singing, it seemed to calm his Totodile down. He, that's a handy option of calming your Pokemon. Alex looked at his Eevee who had decided that it was time to play with the Chikorita, trying to touch the Chikorita's leaf with it's tail. Then Elm spoke up again. And he brought up that there were some supplies left. Alex decided that he would just stick close to someone who had a map and then he would be set. No need to carry aditional stuff anyway. The timid girl started hyperventilating and Blake had run off to help her. Alex reminded himself of how to act around people who hyperventilate. In his experience, the smartest thing to do was to just sit down and foregt everything else. He grabbed a chair and dragged it over to the group with Eevee following him. Here girl, sit on this chair and just take it easy. Without saying anything else Alex took a few steps back, giving her some room. Too many people breathing down her neck would only stress her out more anyway.</s>	<\|message\|>Melody Avery Hemlock ~Melody Hemlock~ Abigail plucked her Nidoran off of Mareep's fur, much to the Nidoran's displeasure. "Alright little guy. Nap times over," said Abigail. "Oh shut it. Now stay put or I'll put you back in the pokeball, alright?" "I think you can do it. Be the best that is. Well, you've kind of got to now that you've said it," said Avery. Melody nodded solemnly. Well, of course Abigail could be! In fact, Melody couldn't even visualize a world where Abigail wasn't the best trainer… not just in the region, either. In the whole universe! And Melody, of course, would be there with her every step of the way. "I'd say I was glad to meet ya too, but it'd be a lie." Abigail replied. "All of you, are my competition. I don't intent to get friendly with any of you. But thanks for the encouragement. I'll make sure to think of you for more than a second when I do win." Wow! Well, she certainly had spirit! Of course, that whole thing about not getting friendly with any of them… well, Melody would see about that. Abigail flounced off, and Melody watched her go for a second. Her hair bounced prettily as she stalked off… .................................................................. ................................................................................................ .................................................................. ...yeah. Even her back was pretty. Melody turned to follow her, but— Wait. Was Peggy was hyperventilating? Melody frowned, somewhat concerned by this. After all… maybe Peggy wasn't her bestest best friend, like Abigail was, but she had decided that she liked the girl, and therefore needed to take care of her. A boy rushed over. "Hey, relax okay? Listen to me. Are you listening? Clear your thoughts, empty your mind. Don't think about anything but to relax," he said. "Look me in the eyes and say after me, 'I am fine'. Once again, 'I am fine'..." And then… oh! Another boy! "Here, girl," said the second boy, pulling up a chair for Peggy. "Sit on this chair and take it easy." Oh. So they had it covered, then. She patted Peggy gently on the shoulder, and gave her a reassuring smile. "Things'll be okay, Peggy!" she told her. "Abigail means well! We'll give you some space, now!" At least, she was pretty sure of that. How could Abigail not have meant well? Surely she'd never try to hurt Peggy on purpose… Peggy was so nice, after all! She glanced over to the supplies on the table. Did she need anything? Maybe one of the repels… oh, and she'd get one for Peggy, too! Abigail seemed to have gotten everything she needed, and there were no maps left, so she didn't worry about that. What about Avery? He didn't seem to have gotten anything… well, there were no other repels, but she'd get him a first aid kit or something? She trotted over to the table, grabbed the remaining repels and a first aid kit, and trotted back. Carefully, she set a repel down by Peggy, and handed the first aid kit to Avery, pocketing the other repel. "Here!" she said. "I got this for you guys. And I hope you feel better soon, Peggy." She turned to the two boys who had rushed over to help Peggy. If they wanted to help Peggy, then they had to be nice, right? "Nice to meet you," she said politely. What? "My name's Melody Hemlock. This—" and here she gestured to Avery, "is Avery, and that's Peggy. And that just now, with the Nidoran, was Abigail!" Melody cuddled her Mareep closer to herself. The boy whose Totodile seemed to have already acquired a taste for human flesh had asked them where they wanted to go, but… well, Melody didn't really have an opinion. If it came to a vote, she'd vote for wherever Melody wanted to go.</s>
<\|description\|>Melody Avery Hemlock Age: 16 Gender: Female Appearance: Standing at about 5'2", Melody's small stature and general lack of presence make fading into the background pretty much a fact of her existence. As a matter of fact, the most eye-catching thing about her is her hair… but even that's mostly because it's bright pink and really, really long. Despite this, the importance of taking care of one's appearance is one of the few things that Melody's mother took the time to drill into her head, and as a result, Melody is exceptionally good at things like doing hair, applying make-up tastefully, and color-coordinating outfits. While she isn't a fashionista by any stretch of the imagination, Melody always looks presentable... even though half the time, no one's really registered her presence well enough to appreciate it. Personality: Melody's a fairly sweet girl most of the time. She's not particularly shy, and really quite talkative, once someone's actually noticed she's there. As a girl brought up in a well-to-do family by parents who placed a high value on manners, Melody is polite to everyone and anyone, even if it's mostly by force of habit. In other words, she's really quite friendly, and for all appearances, harmless. Beneath that well-mannered exterior, however, is an obsessively clingy girl with a grip like a vice and some incredibly possessive tendencies. Melody cherishes her friends… maybe a little too much, actually. Even though she's never really experienced a long-term friendship, the concept of "best friends forever" is one that is very close to her heart. Often, she fixates on a person so intensely that she'll let almost nothing stand between them. When someone she cares about is in danger, she's more protective than a mother Ursaring whose cubs are being threatened, and more vicious than an Arbok with a grudge. She hasn't quite crossed the line into psychopathic yet, but back in middle school she was involved in a quickly hushed-up incident featuring her best friend, a boy who had a crush on her best friend, and a stapler. Melody definitely has a manipulative streak, and isn't afraid of using underhanded methods to get what she wants. History: As the only child of a pair of hard-working, fairly wealthy businesspeople, Melody grew up in a frequently empty house in Goldenrod City, with only the maids to keep her company. Because of her parents' jobs (and, on one occasion, that one incident in middle school involving a stapler), she's had to transfer schools many times. As a result, she's never quite been able to form any solid relationships, and always treasured company, prizing friendship above all else… even her morals, at times. Although she wasn't home very often, Melody's mother held manners and the traditionally feminine disciplines in high regard. As a result, Melody grew up to be polite to a fault, and quite skilled in areas such as cooking and cleaning. In fact, since she often had nothing to do but practice cooking, Melody's cooking is actually rather incredible. However, since she never quite figured out how to work the television in the living room or the desktop in her parents' room, Melody is fairly technologically illiterate. Melody has wanted to be a Pokemon trainer since her childhood, primarily for one reason: the legal mandate on travelling in pairs or more. While there is no question about the fact that she likes Pokemon and the thrill of battling, Melody sees her Pokemon journey as her ticket to a "best friend forever"… and that's something that she would never pass up. Because of this, Melody studied hard in every one of the trainer schools that she's attended. As soon as she reached the minimum legal age of obtaining a license, Melody jumped at the chance to become a trainer, and left home the day after her sixteenth birthday. Her parents, unsurprisingly, were on a business trip at the time, but they did call her to wish her farewell... a day or two after she set out for New Bark Town. Quirks/Habits/Other: - Despite her rather fragile appearance, Melody is impressively strong. She doesn't pull her punches, either, so getting into a brawl with her is... not the best of ideas. - Melody is a fantastic cook and a master of all things traditionally feminine, from cooking to cleaning to baby-sitting. - Computers, microwaves, refrigerators... you name it, Melody can break it. She'd probably like video games, but she's never played one before because she can't figure out how to work a PC without completely destroying it. - Melody harbors a secret fondness for cooking shows, animated TV shows and movies, and murder mystery novels. - Melody has a terrible sense of direction. Like, it's really, really bad. Inventory: - Pokeballs (x5) - Burn Heal (x5) - Paralyze Heal (x5) - Sleep Heal (x5) - Antidote (x5) - Potion (x5) - First-aid kit, for minor scrapes and injuries (x1) - Switchblade, for... "cooking and self defense" yeah right (x1) - Full set of clothing (x3) - Cheap and almost indestructible Nokia phone (x1) - Toiletries (x1 bag) - Hairbrush (x1) - Make-up and beauty products (x1 bag) - Agatha Christie's "Five Little Tepigs" (x1) - Sleeping bag, assorted camping equipment (x1) - Wallet, containing $100 (x1) All of these items have been neatly packed into a shiny new white-and-pink backpack. Well, except the switchblade. That's in her pocket. Pokemon: Tesla the Mareep Male Lvl 7 Acquired from Prof. Elm Ability: Static Has a modest nature. Often dozes off. Moves: Tackle, Growl, Thunderwave LOLBAT the Zubat Male Lvl 3 Caught on Route 29 Ability: Inner Focus Has a timid nature. Quick to flee. Moves: Leech Life TL;DR: A girl who, despite her well-mannered and friendly appearance, is actually incredibly clingy and obsessive. In other words, a borderline yandere. Theme Song: Going with pink for her text colour, again. Mostly because of her hair… and so I can transition into red for her scary moments.</s> <\|message\|>Avery Garfield Grant ~Avery Grant~ Avery was imagining all of the glorious victories the girl might have along her journey, getting even more excited with each one. Again, he missed her slight again, coming back to reality about the time she said she'd think of him. Avery smiled. Friends thought of each other often. They must be friends, then. Logic like that was rock-solid. Then something happened. Uhhhhhhhhh… Brain, any idea what's going on? No? Didn't think so. The little chick beside him, well, started breathing. Normally a good thing, or so Lung would have Avery believe. But she was breathing hard. And fast. Like he had when he went swimming and tried to touch the bottom of the lake, but ran out of air and struggled to the surface. He couldn't get enough of the stuff. Did Peggy get lost in her imagination, and now thought she was drowning? Oh no. People could die from that, right? From overactive imaginations? Well, that wouldn't do. Avery didn't know how he'd survive in the wilderness without the Survivalist. So he made up his mind. He would get her the air she needed. CPR. That helped, right? Avery drew in a ton of air, and was about to attempt to administer, when the Cool-Hat dude rushed over and started trying to talk down Peggy. He made some good points. If you emptied your head, you'd empty your imagination. If you emptied your imagination, you wouldn't be drowning anymore. Silly Peggy. But maybe he should still try to- Before he could attempt his life-saving maneuver, the wee-one came bearing a chair, telling Peggy to sit. That should do the trick. Silly Peggy, you can't drown if you're sitting down. It's Science. Then Melody shoved a first-aid kit in Avery's hands. Did Peggy need some serious surgery? Well… Avery had never operated on a person before, but when life hands you scalpels, make itty-bitty cuts. He had seen it down plenty of times on TV. He'd just need to make a cut on her stomach large enough for his hand. Then he'd reach in and cut a few more...uh...things, and she'd be better. Being a doctor wasn't that hard. Maybe Avery would do that for a living? OH! But the task at hand. Avery began trying to open the kit, but Peggy seemed to come back down from her cloud. Well then. Welcome back to civilization, Pegs. Avery stopped fiddling with the kit, albeit slightly disappointed. Who knows, though? Maybe he'd have a chance to be Top Doc at a later point in time. He sure hoped so. Although he didn't want anyone to get hurt. Somehow, the two wants did not collide in friction in Avery's simple mind. Melody called his name, and Avery, having zoned out once more, came back to reality with a hearty "Heya heya!" Avery smiled, prior crisis almost completely gone from his consciousness. Ignorance was bliss.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Blanchett ~Professor Elm/Alfred Elm~ It was nice, seeing all the trainers getting along. More or less - it seemed one of them had a brief panic attack, but the others had managed to calm her down. They had just started, and they were already helping each other! He couldn't have asked for a better outcome of this. Well, most of the trainers were getting along anyways. One of the girls seemed to have a bit of a superiority complex. He had seen trainers like her before, and most of the time...well, it didn't end well. Hopefully, she learned her lesson before something bad happened. Well, whatever happens, now was time for wishing all of them well, and getting them out of New Bark and out on the road. "Alright everyone!" Professor Elm said again, to get their attention. "It's been a pleasure making all of your acquaintances! Now though, its time all of you got going." "Um, professor? What about their licences?" Alfred quietly asked, holding a stack of the item in question. There seemed to be one for each of the trainers gathered here. "Oh, right! Sorry, I almost forgot. Alfred, if you could pass them out please." With a nod, he got up from his seat and started handing the licenses to the trainers. This took a minute or so, to figure out who everyone was but soon enough it was done and each trainer had a shiny new Trainer Card to carry around and show that they were legally licensed trainers. It had their age, name, hometown and emergency contact info on it in case of well, emergencies. "Make sure you keep up with those. They are very important if the Police decide to make sure you are a legal trainer." Now that that was taken care of, then they could get going. "I apologize for the last second hold up! But now that everything is done, young trainers, the world of pokemon now awaits you! You'll face many challenges - especially if you decide to challenge the Gyms, but I'm certain that all of you will do great things. Now, enough of me rambling like the old man I am." he laughed. "Now, your first stop would be Route 29, just east of New Bark. Some of you came through there on your way in. It'll probably take you a day on foot to reach Cherry Grove, but I'm certain all of you will make it. Now, be careful out there and have a fun journey!" ~Abigail Blanchett~ After being handed her card, Abigail pocketed it without giving it so much as another glance. Well, if the old man was finished with them, then she saw no reason to stay here. She was slightly curious about the egg in the machine in the back, but didn't bother asking. Instead, she grabbed her bag, slung it over her shoulder and with her Nidoran still in her arms, she headed right for the Lab's door. She had no desire to stay here any longer. With any luck, this time tomorrow they'd be in Cherry Grove, and she'd be on her way to becoming a strong trainer.</s>	<\|message\|>Melody Avery Hemlock ~Melody Hemlock~ Oh— so they were going to Cherrygrove, then? Or, at least… Professor Elm wanted them to go to Cherrygrove? Melody hummed. Well, that seemed like a pretty logical first destination! She wondered if she'd be able to find a Pidgey on Route 29. Okay, so maybe they were kind of common, but… they were cute, okay? She'd always liked cute Pokemon. And she already had a name picked out! If her Pidgey was a boy, she'd name him... uh… Bird Jesus? Private Brian? Stanley! Stanley-Joe! And if it was a girl… well, Stanley-Joe was a pretty name for a girl, too! Right? She'd chosen the name after… well, after nothing, actually. She'd just made it up. Call it divine inspiration? She had bumped into a few of those weird Helix cultists on the way to the lab. So she'd just introduced herself to the two who'd come over to help out Peggy, but—wait. Was Abigail leaving? Uh-oh. She was getting left behind! And Melody definitely couldn't let her best friend wander off alone! For one thing, they were supposed to all stay together, right? For another… well, Melody had just found her best friend! She didn't want to get separated already! She shot an apologetic smile at Peggy and the two boys. "Sorry, gotta go!" she blurted out in a rush. "Peggy, the repel on the floor is for you. I'm going to go catch up to Abigail. You guys hurry, okay? Bye!" Melody hurried over to the professor's assistant, took her card, and then jogged after Abigail. Okay, so maybe it wasn't jogging… Melody's parents had raised her to be a proper young lady (sort of), after all! She walked briskly after Abigail, managing to catch her just before she exited the door. Mareep was starting to feel kind of heavy, but Melody had always been pretty strong: she could deal with it! And she rather liked having Mareep out. "Abigail, wait up!" she said, smiling. "Aren't you excited? Our Pokemon journeys are starting, and you're on your way to being the best trainer in the region, huh? I'm going to challenge the gyms too. I mean, I probably won't be as good as you, but I'll do my best." After all, she had to, didn't she? To prove to Abigail that she was worthy of her? Mareep made a snuffling sound in his sleep, and Melody giggled. "Mareep's gonna help me, too. We're going to be an awesome team, just you wait!"</s>
<\|description\|>Ryley Grisdoe Age: 18 Gender: Male Appearance: Ryley falls around the height of 5'8''. He normally has a serious look on his face, but he doesn't really realize it, and it changes fairly easily. His hair often gets messy, despite his attempts at combing/brushing/whatevering. He prefers to wear a lighter t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Y'know, the 'usual'. He doesn't really care about appearance that much though, and prefers comfortable, practical clothes. Personality: Ryley is a very 'down to earth' type of guy. He can come off as sarcastic sometimes due to this. He won't run away from the truth of things, even when things are rough. However, he'll do what he can to change the 'truth' of matters if he doesn't like it. Also, just because he faces the truth doesn't mean he won't lie. Ryley respects others' opinions and ideas, as most of them have a good reason or cause behind them. Due to this, many people find him to be friendly. However, he tends to avoid people with ideas he doesn't agree with, if possible. This may seem rude, but Ryley doesn't want to argue others with strong beliefs, as he believes no one wins in those cases. Ryley enjoys the company of others, though he's not that good at small talk. He's better at having deep discussions. He may throw in a quick quip here or there in normal conversations, but overall he prefers to listen. History: Ryley grew up in Unova. More specifically, Opelucid City (W/W2 version). His mother died only 6 months after he was born, so he grew up alone with his father. His father worked as an assistant to the town's gym leader, Drayden. Due to this, Ryley learned a lot about dragon types, especially the legendary duo Reshiram and Zekrom. The idea of truth and ideals fighting always interested him, though it was slightly confusing. When he was 9 years old, his dad got laid off due to less trainers battling. He couldn't find another job in the city, so they had to move from home sweet home. They ended up moving to Violet City, where his dad got a job maintaining Sprout Tower. Though the lore of Opelucid was great, the history of Sprout Tower, combined with the nearby Ruins of Alph managed to sate Ryley's curiosity. Eventually, the wild pokemon's aggressiveness became so bad that Ryley couldn't travel to the Ruins alone. He became fairly agitated due to this, and wanted to do something. He tried asking questions around town, and soon found out that the wild pokemon everywhere were being more aggressive, but nobody knew exactly why. He decided he'd try to find out the source of the problem, and solve it. He got his dad's approval fairly easily and signed up for a license. With equipment in hand, he headed out. Quirks/Habits/Other: -Likes to learn about lore and history of various things -Doesn't have much of a taste. He often goes with whatever is healthiest, or he's in the mood for. -Loves the feeling of when a good plan succeeds. -Doesn't really realize it, but he's good at predicting what someone is about to do based on their movement and changes in pattern. Inventory: - Pokeballs x5 - Burn Heal x5 - Paralyze Heal x5 - Sleep Heal x5 - Antidote x5 - Potion x5 - Two extra sets of clothes - Old X-transceiver (acts mostly as a phone) - Camping gear - Notebook and 3 pens - $100 - A black backpack to carry everything in Pokemon: None TL;DR: Morally stable, and mentally strong. Fairly social person. Often serious and very curious. His color is yellow</s> <\|message\|>Alexander "Alex" Elric -Alexander Elric- Alexander just came out of the Pokemon pens. He had just given them their final meal for the day. He had been working on those meals for the last three hours and he was dead tired. He always did his best for the poor beasts, even if it might not make a difference to them on the long term. He locked the door and walked several paces. Then there was the sound of something breaking, quickly followed by alot of commotion from the Pokemon. At first Alexander didnt care too much, probably a broken plate or something, one of the Pokemon must have stepped on something and caused this. It'll calm down in a moment... He was about to walk back home when he heard something which sounded an awefull lot like a fight. What was going on in there? Ooh crap, did he accidentily open one of the cages? Ooh no, his uncle is gonna kill him if one of his Pokemon gets injured... Ooh crap, ooh crap... He quickly turned around and tried to open the door but it wouldnt open. Why no- Ooh right! He pulled his keys out of his pocket. In his hurry he didnt see what key he was using. Apparently it was the wrong one. Well maybe this one wa- And ofcourse he drops the keys. Damn, damn... He picked up the keys and now got the correct one and opened the door. All the Pokemon were jumping up and down in their cages, they all had very clear scars of battle. These were no ordinary Pokemon, they were used in illegal fights which were arranged by some associates of his uncle. All of them had seen their fair share of battle and vicious beasts. Alexander's eyes quickly scanned the pens and it didnt take long before he spotted what caused the commotion. The roof of the building was made out of glass and apparently a Zigzagoon had accidentily broken it. It had fallen in another pen and... Ooh no! Why couldnt it have fallen in the pen of the Furret! Instead it fallen in the pen of the Mightyena and it didnt look that happy with it's new visitor. Honestly, at first Alexander was relieved. The Zigzagoon would not be able to really harm the Mightyena so Alex want in trouble. He was about to turn around and walk out when the Zigzagoon's pleas for help reached his ear. It was hartbreaking for Alex... He couldnt let the small animal be torn to shreds by the Mightyena, he just couldnt! But, what about his uncle... Again the plea for help sounded. Screw his uncle! Screw the rest! This was much more important! He rushed over to the pen and opened it. The Mightyena didnt notice and was too fixated on the poor little Zigzagoon. Just as it was preparing to pounce Alexander rushed in to shield the Zigzagoon with his back. The Mightyena didnt care that this young boy was in the way, he would just attack both of them. It pounced at them and his claw scratched ove- Alright we're here! New Bark Town! Any passengers who need to be here need to leave the bus now! Alexander jumped up, startled by the loud voice of the bus diver. A drip of sweat was running down his forehead. A dream... It was just a dream... He got up, grabbed his backpack and as he was walking out of the bus he was rubbing his hand over his back and started mumbling. It was just a dream Alex... Toughen up already! He slapped himself across the cheek as the bus was just departing. It's been two years and it's still haunting him... Snap out of it! He ran his hands through his hair as he was taking a deep breath. What was he doing again? Ooh right, he was getting himself his first Pokemon! Well, atleast that was something to look forward to. Yes, he should look forward and not look back to the past! Now all he had to do was go to the Pokemon lab and get his own Pokemon! But... Wait, where is the lab again? Ooh no problem, he'll just look again on his map which was in his suitcase. Now, where did he leave his suitcase? Last time he saw it it was laying nicely packed in the back of the... bus. He looked back and just saw the bus going over a hill... a quarter mile away. Really? Really!? Dammit! Out of frustration he kicked at the busstop sign... In hindsight not a good idea. How am I now going to get to the lab... Apparently there was no other way. He had to take drastic measures. It pained him to do this but he had no choice. He walked up to the nearest person he could find and... Asked directions.</s> <\|message\|>Avery Garfield Grant ~Avery Grant~ Elm sure was taking his sweet time. Avery knew that the guy got distracted by his work pretty easily, heck it was one of things that he admired about the man, but usually Alfy or someone would be alert enough to hear a visitor. Or… Or was the Professor onto something big? Like, MEGA big? A breakthrough that would revolutionize the PokeWorld?!! It had to be! Avery was grinning like an idiot, wanting to knock the door down and see for himself. He had just grabbed the door when something hit him. "Err, hey!" A sound. A voice? A sentence. A person. A witness! OH DEAR ARCEUS, BUSTED. "Err, are, you, err…." Avery quickly spun around, hands shooting behind his head. He held the back of his neck, arms up and elbows out. A guilty grin was plastered on his face. It was Elm. It had to be Elm. Elm was going to scold him for entering without permission. It wasn't Elm. It wasn't anyone. Huh. Weird. A soft breeze floated by, sweeping Avery's hair from his face. And a bush had decided to fly, apparently. Wait. No. Not a bush. Hair. Hair? Then he noticed her. It was someone. She was, well, quite small. Bushy pigtails, green hat, tensed shoulders. Avery blinked. Who was she? Where'd she come from? Wow, she was small. He didn't usually have people looking up to him. Did he? Alfy, but he didn't count, he was just a kid. Was this girl a kid? Was she lost? She was probably lost. Avery was about to ask, but the girl repeated herself. "Err...are you, err…?" Err? She kept saying Err. Did she think he was this 'Err'? Avery knew most of the people around these parts, but he hadn't met Err. Maybe Err was a friend of hers. Maybe Err was her dad. OF COURSE! This little girl was looking for her father named Err. And she had mistaken Avery for him. It made sense. Although...did Err look a lot like Avery? Maybe she was blind, or just very upset. Avery understood. His thoughts got all tangled up when he was upset or angry. So he didn't do that anymore. Better to keep his wits sharp. "You here for, err...you know?" Then the girl pointed to the lab. And Avery felt silly. It made even more sense. She wasn't a lost child who thought he was her father. She was here to see Professor Elm. So she wasn't a little kid. Probably closer to his age. Except...she thought his name was Err, and thought that Err was Avery. Avery smiled softly at the poor, confused girl. He laughed kindly. "No, I'm not Err. He's inside. I think. Although it's pronounced 'Elm'. He's a pretty cool guy. I guess if you're here to see Elm, you're here for a Pokemon? Same here." Avery stuck out his hand for the chica. "I'm Avery, your new friend. Nice to meetcha."</s>	<\|message\|>Ryley Grisdoe A day like today 10 years ago would be one where kids would be playing outside, having a fun time with others and possibly the wild pokemon. It only took one glance to see that it wasn't the same. It felt… empty, for a lack of better words. As this thought appeared, a small sigh penetrated the emptiness of the small town. Well, today was the beginning of trying to change that. Ryley turned his gaze towards the lab. There he would start his life as a pokemon trainer, all of the risks and rewards entailed. It was odd trying to describe his feelings at the moment. The closest he could manage was a mixture of fear and excitement. Fear over the possibility of injury, the unknown adversaries he would meet, and worst of all, the possibility that the truth he's looking for was something far worse than he expected. However, the excitement of receiving a pokemon, meeting new friends, and the future of journeying slightly outweighed the fears he held. Ryley shifted his position slightly on the tiles. He had arrived early with the help of a guide, however he had arrived a bit too early. With nothing better to do, he climbed onto the roof of a house, lay down, and basked in the sun. The owners of the house seemed to be out, so he felt as though he wasn't intruding. In any case, it seemed as though some people were gathering at the lab. It must have been time. As Ryley got up from his prone position, he realized he had made one mistake. The trip up had taken a bit of climbing, but the way down would be much, much harder. Ironically, in many cases it was the other way around. The irony didn't help. "Shit…" A bit of forethought would be wonderful next time. Well, he needed to get down, and the easiest answer seemed to be the way to go. Launch initiating in T-minus 5. 4. 3. 2. 1. Thump. Launch failed. As Ryley got up off the ground, thankful he hadn't broken anything based on his initial inspection, his first thought was how incredibly stupid he felt. His second was hoping nobody had seen that. He had jumped from the southern side of the house, so no one from the lab should have seen anything. But still… Shaking his head, Ryley headed around the house towards the lab, and the people that surrounded the entrance. An introduction would be customary here, but thing is, it felt awkward to do so. He would be directing it at everyone, but everyone seemed to be occupied. It would only serve to make him the center of attraction, or he'd just be ignored outright. Ryley decided to stealthily join the outskirts of the group, waving his hand in a non-verbal introduction. There! Two birds with one stone. Now all he had to do was wait for more people to arrive, and/or be let in.</s>
<\|description\|>Ryley Grisdoe Age: 18 Gender: Male Appearance: Ryley falls around the height of 5'8''. He normally has a serious look on his face, but he doesn't really realize it, and it changes fairly easily. His hair often gets messy, despite his attempts at combing/brushing/whatevering. He prefers to wear a lighter t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Y'know, the 'usual'. He doesn't really care about appearance that much though, and prefers comfortable, practical clothes. Personality: Ryley is a very 'down to earth' type of guy. He can come off as sarcastic sometimes due to this. He won't run away from the truth of things, even when things are rough. However, he'll do what he can to change the 'truth' of matters if he doesn't like it. Also, just because he faces the truth doesn't mean he won't lie. Ryley respects others' opinions and ideas, as most of them have a good reason or cause behind them. Due to this, many people find him to be friendly. However, he tends to avoid people with ideas he doesn't agree with, if possible. This may seem rude, but Ryley doesn't want to argue others with strong beliefs, as he believes no one wins in those cases. Ryley enjoys the company of others, though he's not that good at small talk. He's better at having deep discussions. He may throw in a quick quip here or there in normal conversations, but overall he prefers to listen. History: Ryley grew up in Unova. More specifically, Opelucid City (W/W2 version). His mother died only 6 months after he was born, so he grew up alone with his father. His father worked as an assistant to the town's gym leader, Drayden. Due to this, Ryley learned a lot about dragon types, especially the legendary duo Reshiram and Zekrom. The idea of truth and ideals fighting always interested him, though it was slightly confusing. When he was 9 years old, his dad got laid off due to less trainers battling. He couldn't find another job in the city, so they had to move from home sweet home. They ended up moving to Violet City, where his dad got a job maintaining Sprout Tower. Though the lore of Opelucid was great, the history of Sprout Tower, combined with the nearby Ruins of Alph managed to sate Ryley's curiosity. Eventually, the wild pokemon's aggressiveness became so bad that Ryley couldn't travel to the Ruins alone. He became fairly agitated due to this, and wanted to do something. He tried asking questions around town, and soon found out that the wild pokemon everywhere were being more aggressive, but nobody knew exactly why. He decided he'd try to find out the source of the problem, and solve it. He got his dad's approval fairly easily and signed up for a license. With equipment in hand, he headed out. Quirks/Habits/Other: -Likes to learn about lore and history of various things -Doesn't have much of a taste. He often goes with whatever is healthiest, or he's in the mood for. -Loves the feeling of when a good plan succeeds. -Doesn't really realize it, but he's good at predicting what someone is about to do based on their movement and changes in pattern. Inventory: - Pokeballs x5 - Burn Heal x5 - Paralyze Heal x5 - Sleep Heal x5 - Antidote x5 - Potion x5 - Two extra sets of clothes - Old X-transceiver (acts mostly as a phone) - Camping gear - Notebook and 3 pens - $100 - A black backpack to carry everything in Pokemon: None TL;DR: Morally stable, and mentally strong. Fairly social person. Often serious and very curious. His color is yellow</s> <\|message\|>Peggy Atkinson - Peggy Atkinson - As Melody's Mareep let out a Thunderwave, Houndour was caught in the attack and paralyzed, not moving for a long time as it lay on the ground, and Peggy worried for a moment it was dead. She made a move to check on the little dog Pokemon, only for Houndour to raise its head and give Peggy a little growl. Well, it probably wasn't too injured then if it could afford to be grumpy with her. It was then that the Nidoran's trainer, a purple-haired girl, walked over to them. "Well that's what you get, you little fauteur de troubles," she said, scolding her Nidoran. "Oh, don't do that with me. You're just trying to be manipulative. Behave and I'll get you a paralyze heal." The purple-haired girl then turned to Peggy. "Hmph. You should keep that mutt of yours on a leash," she scoffed, looking annoyed. "That mutt could have seriously hurt Melody here." Peggy looked down at her feet, ashamed. "S-sorry," she muttered. "I re-really am. A-and I'm sure Houndour is sorry too." As if in response, Houndour, getting up to its feet, gave a snarl in Abigail's direction before marching, or rather stumbling, over to Peggy's side, showing as clear as day that it wasn't one bit sorry. Seeing this, Peggy sighed. "I think someone should be returned to their Pokeball," she muttered, and quickly got out the Pokeball and returned the dog to its Pokeball before placing it in her pocket. After a little conversation between purple-haired girl and Melody, as well as purple-haired girl's Nidoran seemingly apologising to Tesla - why couldn't Houndour be that nice? - Melody introduced purple-haired girl, who was apparently her friend, to Peggy and Avery. "Um, Abigail, this is Avery and Peggy," Melody said. "Avery, Peggy— this is Abigail!" Peggy gave a low nod of greeting to Abigail, so low that it was practically a bow. "H-hi," she said shyly. "And again, I'm really, really s-sorry."</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Blanchett ~Abigail Blanchett~ At Tesla offered Nidoran the pokeblock, the pokemon scooped it up his mouth and swallowed the rest of it whole. Well, it seemed like he wasn't going to cause any more trouble for now at least. With that done, she scooped up the Nidoran in her arms again, allowing him to lay on her shoulder as he still looked down at the Mareep as he eyed that comfortable looking wool of Tesla's. "I think that means Tesla forgives him, That's really cute." Well, that was one word for it. Nidoran was certainly cute, but that fluffball? Eh, well she could think of a few adjectives for it. At least the timid girl apologized. It'd have been a bit more interesting if she hadn't, but oh well. The girl was a pushover then. She wouldn't last long at all in the gym challenges, if she even had the guts to take one. "Um, Abigail, this is Avery and Peggy. Avery, Peggy— this is Abigail!" Someone was getting awfully close. She took a inched away from Melody, folding her arms across her chest as Melody introduced her to the two of them. Hmph. She could introduced herself. "H-hi, And again, I'm really, really s-sorry." She gave Peggy a not so friendly look, as if barely even acknowledging the other girls presence. "Tch. I can introduce myself." She gruffly said in response. However, soon her face turned into that of a confident grin as she spoke. "Abigail Blanchett!" She proudly stated rather loudly. "Remember it you two. I'm gonna be the best trainer in the region!" Hell, she was aiming for the best trainer in all the regions, but if anything she's learned over the years, you've gotta start off small. "And you losers," She continued, giving Avery and Peggy both a smug look as her grin was replaced with a smirk. "Better not slow me down or I'll have my Nidoran here thoroughly thrash you." At hearing its name called, the Nidoran shot a look over to the other two trainers, eyeing them a bit curiously. What was going through its head, was anybody's guess but its attention soon returned to Tesla and his wool. Without another word of warning, he jumped right off of her shoulder, and launched himself right on top of Tesla's wool. "Nidoran!" She called out. Obviously this little guy was going to be more than a bit of a handful. She had half a mind to scold him, but he didn't seem to be doing anything in particular...in fact, he looked downright sleepy as he found a comfortable spot on the Mareeps wool, completely oblivious to the static on it. "Ah, it's so nice to see everyone getting along." Professor Elm said with a quiet chuckle as he watched the trainers, eyeing Abigial's group in particular. "More or less." So lively and eager. It seemed that was something that couldn't be washed away just with age after all. However, now was the time to get them on the road. After all, they couldn't just sit here for the rest of the time. While the trainers continued to converse among themselves, he moved towards the other table, the one with a few maps and such on it. "Okay, if I could just have everyone's attention!" Professor Elm said as loudly as he could above the trainers. He gave them a few minutes to quiet down and turn their attention back to him. "I am glad to see all of you are getting along with your new partner, and with each other." He gave all of them a friendly smile. "On this table, I have a few supplies I'd like to give all of you. I have a few maps of the Johto region, repels, and even a few medical kits for you. I couldn't buy much, so you'll have to share with everyone else and use your supplies wisely." He continued, suddenly becoming serious. "On that note, I would like to remind everyone to stay together. As beginner trainers, all of you are quite inexperienced. Please, take care of each other and watch each others backs out there. If anything happened to any of you..." Professor Elm sighed, as though it wasn't the first time he had given this speech, and the not the first time something bad had happened. "Ah, anyways - I'm going off on a tangent again! Please, take these supplies! Its not much, but I'll do what I can for all of you." * Johto Region Map (x3) * Repels (x5) * First aid kit (x2)</s>	<\|message\|>Ryley Grisdoe Ryley glanced at Fern to see how she was doing. She was standing by his side, and seemed to be content with listening. He turned his attention back to the boy as he introduced himself. "Hey, the name's Alexander Elric, but just call me Alex, it's much easier. And here, take these." As Alex finished introducing himself, he handed Blake's Swinub and Fern a couple of pokeblocks. That was really nice of him. Ryley hadn't intended to ask for one, but his introduction must have sounded like it. Well, can't change the past. It'd be rude to look a gift-ponyta in the mouth, so he gladly accepted the gift. Fern did too, as she savored the flavor of the sweet treat. "Thanks!" Ryley was about to continue when he heard something a bit odd. Was… Was that someone singing? He turned his head and found the source to be a newcomer. So this must be the eighth trainer. He seemed to be a nice guy, though Ryley's judgement may have been based on the melodious voice more than the person. Ryley noted his choice of starter, a totodile. Big biters, as he recalled. Before he could continue his train of thought, he was interrupted once again, but this time by Professor Elm. Ryley watched as the professor set out a few supplies for their journey, and welcomed them to use them. One of the professor's last lines caught Ryley's attention. "If anything happened to any of you…" A reminder of the danger being a trainer entailed. A reminder of why he was becoming a trainer in the first place. Ryley turned towards Alex and Blake, gave a short nod, and headed towards the table to grab one of the first aid kits. Fern's abilities could help make the medicines inside a bit stronger, so it seemed like a smart choice to carry one of the kits. Once the kit had been obtained, he headed back to Alex and Blake.</s>
<\|description\|>Ryley Grisdoe Age: 18 Gender: Male Appearance: Ryley falls around the height of 5'8''. He normally has a serious look on his face, but he doesn't really realize it, and it changes fairly easily. His hair often gets messy, despite his attempts at combing/brushing/whatevering. He prefers to wear a lighter t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Y'know, the 'usual'. He doesn't really care about appearance that much though, and prefers comfortable, practical clothes. Personality: Ryley is a very 'down to earth' type of guy. He can come off as sarcastic sometimes due to this. He won't run away from the truth of things, even when things are rough. However, he'll do what he can to change the 'truth' of matters if he doesn't like it. Also, just because he faces the truth doesn't mean he won't lie. Ryley respects others' opinions and ideas, as most of them have a good reason or cause behind them. Due to this, many people find him to be friendly. However, he tends to avoid people with ideas he doesn't agree with, if possible. This may seem rude, but Ryley doesn't want to argue others with strong beliefs, as he believes no one wins in those cases. Ryley enjoys the company of others, though he's not that good at small talk. He's better at having deep discussions. He may throw in a quick quip here or there in normal conversations, but overall he prefers to listen. History: Ryley grew up in Unova. More specifically, Opelucid City (W/W2 version). His mother died only 6 months after he was born, so he grew up alone with his father. His father worked as an assistant to the town's gym leader, Drayden. Due to this, Ryley learned a lot about dragon types, especially the legendary duo Reshiram and Zekrom. The idea of truth and ideals fighting always interested him, though it was slightly confusing. When he was 9 years old, his dad got laid off due to less trainers battling. He couldn't find another job in the city, so they had to move from home sweet home. They ended up moving to Violet City, where his dad got a job maintaining Sprout Tower. Though the lore of Opelucid was great, the history of Sprout Tower, combined with the nearby Ruins of Alph managed to sate Ryley's curiosity. Eventually, the wild pokemon's aggressiveness became so bad that Ryley couldn't travel to the Ruins alone. He became fairly agitated due to this, and wanted to do something. He tried asking questions around town, and soon found out that the wild pokemon everywhere were being more aggressive, but nobody knew exactly why. He decided he'd try to find out the source of the problem, and solve it. He got his dad's approval fairly easily and signed up for a license. With equipment in hand, he headed out. Quirks/Habits/Other: -Likes to learn about lore and history of various things -Doesn't have much of a taste. He often goes with whatever is healthiest, or he's in the mood for. -Loves the feeling of when a good plan succeeds. -Doesn't really realize it, but he's good at predicting what someone is about to do based on their movement and changes in pattern. Inventory: - Pokeballs x5 - Burn Heal x5 - Paralyze Heal x5 - Sleep Heal x5 - Antidote x5 - Potion x5 - Two extra sets of clothes - Old X-transceiver (acts mostly as a phone) - Camping gear - Notebook and 3 pens - $100 - A black backpack to carry everything in Pokemon: None TL;DR: Morally stable, and mentally strong. Fairly social person. Often serious and very curious. His color is yellow</s> <\|message\|>Melody Avery Hemlock ~Melody Hemlock~ Oh— so they were going to Cherrygrove, then? Or, at least… Professor Elm wanted them to go to Cherrygrove? Melody hummed. Well, that seemed like a pretty logical first destination! She wondered if she'd be able to find a Pidgey on Route 29. Okay, so maybe they were kind of common, but… they were cute, okay? She'd always liked cute Pokemon. And she already had a name picked out! If her Pidgey was a boy, she'd name him... uh… Bird Jesus? Private Brian? Stanley! Stanley-Joe! And if it was a girl… well, Stanley-Joe was a pretty name for a girl, too! Right? She'd chosen the name after… well, after nothing, actually. She'd just made it up. Call it divine inspiration? She had bumped into a few of those weird Helix cultists on the way to the lab. So she'd just introduced herself to the two who'd come over to help out Peggy, but—wait. Was Abigail leaving? Uh-oh. She was getting left behind! And Melody definitely couldn't let her best friend wander off alone! For one thing, they were supposed to all stay together, right? For another… well, Melody had just found her best friend! She didn't want to get separated already! She shot an apologetic smile at Peggy and the two boys. "Sorry, gotta go!" she blurted out in a rush. "Peggy, the repel on the floor is for you. I'm going to go catch up to Abigail. You guys hurry, okay? Bye!" Melody hurried over to the professor's assistant, took her card, and then jogged after Abigail. Okay, so maybe it wasn't jogging… Melody's parents had raised her to be a proper young lady (sort of), after all! She walked briskly after Abigail, managing to catch her just before she exited the door. Mareep was starting to feel kind of heavy, but Melody had always been pretty strong: she could deal with it! And she rather liked having Mareep out. "Abigail, wait up!" she said, smiling. "Aren't you excited? Our Pokemon journeys are starting, and you're on your way to being the best trainer in the region, huh? I'm going to challenge the gyms too. I mean, I probably won't be as good as you, but I'll do my best." After all, she had to, didn't she? To prove to Abigail that she was worthy of her? Mareep made a snuffling sound in his sleep, and Melody giggled. "Mareep's gonna help me, too. We're going to be an awesome team, just you wait!"</s> <\|message\|>Avery Garfield Grant ~Avery Grant~ As Avery was waiting for the scene around him to unfold, his anchor once more belted out wise words of guidance. Once more, the young lad shed all outside distractions and focused on Elm. Despite being rather unfocused, the boy could focus. Apparently he was attempting to send everyone on their way...but good reliable Alfie stopped him. They needed licenses. Why? Well...Avery didn't know, but Alfie and Elm seemed to say so, and they knew more about this than he did. Haha, what would he do without them? ...Well, he would probably have to find out pretty soon... "Make sure you keep up with those. They are very important if the Police decide to make sure you are a legal trainer." Legal trainer? What was an illegal trainer? Well, it probably didn't matter. He was getting a card that meant he wouldn't have to care. Abigail and Melody had both already claimed their licenses. Peggy and the others seemed a bit...preoccupied, so Avery went over to the Elms old and young. He smiled bright, teeth flashing white. He stopped before Alfie who held out his card. The kid was still acting timid. No fun. Here Avery was, likely going away for who knows how long, and he couldn't even look him in his eyes. Hell, Avery knew the boy for as long as he'd been in the town. Avery considered him a friend. A close friend. ...his only friend. Avery scooped the kid up by the waist and spun, laughing again. "Going away now, Alfie. But I'll be back. With a bunch of friends. Friends like Blue. So, don't forget about me, yeah?" He sat the kid back down, swiping his card from the ones in his hand and turning away from the Elms. His head hung low, and his hair lower, obscuring his eyes. Don't. Not yet. Just...don't. He walked silently to the door, tracing the floor with his gaze. He walked with purpose, with speed. Not running but… He caught up with the two girls, but took no notice. He left the lab, hearing Elm begin to speak, but took no notice. He entered the sunlight once more, and around him the small little town was moving about its day. But he took no notice. He simply walked. Fleeing. After some time, he made it to the edge of town. Beyond him would be Route 29. The first leg of his journey would begin here. A moment that should be incredibly happy. But there he stood, tears streaming down his face, tears he had managed to hold since the lab. Nobody should have seen him, but he didn't know for sure. It was different from when he met Blue. He wasn't bursting with joy. His tears weren't warm. They stung. It was...so bitter. He had been so excited about this, so happy to start but now… It hurt... It hurt. It-hurt. IT-HURT! He wished he had never listened to those whispers, that nagging inner voice that urged him to pick up the mantle. If he hadn't, he would have to leave, to say goodbye to the town he had lived his entire life in, the people he had come to know and love… But there was no turning back. Not after the weeks he had spent hyped up about it. Not after the bold claims he had made to his parents, to Elm… To Alfie. He stood, facing the end of his life as he knew it. He stood, facing the beginning of one brand new. A few more tears shed from Avery's eyes, but they ended. He rolled down his left sleeve then wiped his face, clearing the tears. His eyes were still red, but at least the crying had passed and his face was dry. He couldn't let the others see him like this. Tears were one thing, pain was another. So Avery stood, composing himself, trying to escape into one of his fantasies, but to no avail. His mind was flooded with memories. But somehow, he managed to keep it together. He didn't turn, didn't give one last look at the town. He knew he couldn't. To look now was to lose every last bit of nerve he had left. He couldn't leave yet, either. He had to wait on the others. So he did. Unmoving, unthinking, unfeeling. Comfortably numb. Painfully numb. He waited, dead to the world. The sooner they left, the sooner he would be okie-dokie. He activated his PokeGear, switching over to the radio, and some classical piece floated out of the machine. A soft, calming melody. Avery lost a chuckle to a thought. If that stupid interview had still been going on, he might have lost it. The young man waited, cloaked in music. But a sharp notion crept into his mind. An unnerving one. One that almost put him back into his sorry state. Avery shuddered. Heart and Brain followed suit. The thought...it was so clear. So real. It was like… Like... A premonition. And he knew it to be true, that fear. He didn't know why, but he did. It shook him to his very core. This would be his first and last time leaving the town. For he would never see New Bark Town again. ... But he smiled.</s>	<\|message\|>Ryley Grisdoe Ryley had been expecting a bit more conversing between him, Blake, and Alex. Even Blake's eevee was enjoying the company of others as it played the 'I'm not touching you' game with Fern's leaf. However, something popped up. One of the trainers, the nervous one, started to breathe rapidly. That… hyperventilating wasn't good. Blake and Alex must have thought likewise, as both walked over to help her. Blake seemed a bit overeager to try to help, while Alex was trying to give the poor girl some space. Ryley, for his part, stayed back at the edge of the group, not wanting to give the girl more anxiety. Too many people and all. The pink haired girl tried to help out as well, siding with Alex's idea of personal space. Ryley watched as she proceeded to grab some materials from the table and distribute them. Then she introduced herself and everyone else (besides the musician) to them. The airhead was Avery, the girl hyperventilating was Peggy, Prima Dona girl was Abigail, and she was Melody. That would save some time from lengthy introductions. After Melody finished her introductions, Peggy seemed to calmed down to the point where breathing wasn't panicked. Enough to become embarrassed at what had just happened. Now seemed a good time to chime in. "Hey, it's okay. It's just good to know you're fine." In any case, what had made Peggy panic in the first place? Melody had mentioned something about Abigail meaning well. Could something have happened between the two? Maybe Abigail had pushed Peggy too hard, or maybe… No. Ryley stopped his train of thought. It wasn't healthy to go off on tangents without any evidence. It was then that Professor Elm spoke up. It seemed it was time for them to head out. Well, that and time for them to get their licenses. The assistant handed out cards to everyone, ensuring their legality in training. Their adventure was starting. Abigail briskly walked off without a word, kinda abrasively in Ryley's opinion. Melody proceeded to blurt out an apology for heading out before following Abigail. Peggy seemed excited to be traveling, which was completely normal, but still… The way she tailed Abigail was a bit unnerving. It was hard to explain why. It seemed about time that Ryley followed suit. It was feeling a bit stuffy in here. He walked towards the door, but lo and behold, Avery caught his attention. Ryley watched as Avery picked the assitant up laughing, and spun around, saying farewell to the young boy. Elm had known Avery, so the two boys must have been friends. Avery let the boy down, and turned towards the door. It was sad seeing two friends parting, to say the least. Once that was over, Ryley headed out himself. As he stepped outside, the sun glared into his eyes, causing them to squint. Fern did the same, but adjusted quickly. She seemed happy to be outside. The lab behind them seemed so dreary compared to the warm sunshine.</s>
<\|description\|>Ryley Grisdoe Age: 18 Gender: Male Appearance: Ryley falls around the height of 5'8''. He normally has a serious look on his face, but he doesn't really realize it, and it changes fairly easily. His hair often gets messy, despite his attempts at combing/brushing/whatevering. He prefers to wear a lighter t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Y'know, the 'usual'. He doesn't really care about appearance that much though, and prefers comfortable, practical clothes. Personality: Ryley is a very 'down to earth' type of guy. He can come off as sarcastic sometimes due to this. He won't run away from the truth of things, even when things are rough. However, he'll do what he can to change the 'truth' of matters if he doesn't like it. Also, just because he faces the truth doesn't mean he won't lie. Ryley respects others' opinions and ideas, as most of them have a good reason or cause behind them. Due to this, many people find him to be friendly. However, he tends to avoid people with ideas he doesn't agree with, if possible. This may seem rude, but Ryley doesn't want to argue others with strong beliefs, as he believes no one wins in those cases. Ryley enjoys the company of others, though he's not that good at small talk. He's better at having deep discussions. He may throw in a quick quip here or there in normal conversations, but overall he prefers to listen. History: Ryley grew up in Unova. More specifically, Opelucid City (W/W2 version). His mother died only 6 months after he was born, so he grew up alone with his father. His father worked as an assistant to the town's gym leader, Drayden. Due to this, Ryley learned a lot about dragon types, especially the legendary duo Reshiram and Zekrom. The idea of truth and ideals fighting always interested him, though it was slightly confusing. When he was 9 years old, his dad got laid off due to less trainers battling. He couldn't find another job in the city, so they had to move from home sweet home. They ended up moving to Violet City, where his dad got a job maintaining Sprout Tower. Though the lore of Opelucid was great, the history of Sprout Tower, combined with the nearby Ruins of Alph managed to sate Ryley's curiosity. Eventually, the wild pokemon's aggressiveness became so bad that Ryley couldn't travel to the Ruins alone. He became fairly agitated due to this, and wanted to do something. He tried asking questions around town, and soon found out that the wild pokemon everywhere were being more aggressive, but nobody knew exactly why. He decided he'd try to find out the source of the problem, and solve it. He got his dad's approval fairly easily and signed up for a license. With equipment in hand, he headed out. Quirks/Habits/Other: -Likes to learn about lore and history of various things -Doesn't have much of a taste. He often goes with whatever is healthiest, or he's in the mood for. -Loves the feeling of when a good plan succeeds. -Doesn't really realize it, but he's good at predicting what someone is about to do based on their movement and changes in pattern. Inventory: - Pokeballs x5 - Burn Heal x5 - Paralyze Heal x5 - Sleep Heal x5 - Antidote x5 - Potion x5 - Two extra sets of clothes - Old X-transceiver (acts mostly as a phone) - Camping gear - Notebook and 3 pens - $100 - A black backpack to carry everything in Pokemon: None TL;DR: Morally stable, and mentally strong. Fairly social person. Often serious and very curious. His color is yellow</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Blanchett ~Abigial Blanchett~ Abigail barely registered the insult from Alex when he finally caught up with them. She didn't really care much for him. Her current attention was focused solely on Peggy. She was waiting for the other girl to say something. Retaliate in some way. She expected the little girl to start bawling, or break down in some way. Possibly just stay silent and walk away. What actually happened, was completely unexpected. A loud smack echoed through the area. It didn't exactly hurt. In fact, it was more surprising than anything, which was clearly spelled out on the girls face as she gave her cheek a gentle rub. She had just smacked her right across her face. She didn't entirely know how to respond to that. No one had ever so much has ever even dared to do that before. Instead of being angry, like some might have expected though, she simply gave Peggy a small smirk as she looked at her, pulling herself back up to her full height. Standing at a rather tall 5'7", she practically towered over the smaller girl, ignoring both Blake and Jackson. ...it's not like those losers words actually meant anything, right? ...right. Before she had a chance to retaliate though, It was then, Avery wrapped the two of them in a hug, much to Abigails surprise. In fact, this was as close as she had ever been to anyone, let alone a...a guy. Well, unless she was the one doing the talking and stuff. But this? She was definitely not prepared for the hug. Almost immediately, her face turned a shade of bright red, before freaking out just a tiny bit. "G-get off!" She said, shoving Avery off of her, and giving him a sharp slap to the back of the head. "Arceus Avery, warn me next time when you're going to go touching people! Some of us don't...don't like...uhm...the whole...touching thing." As she talked, her words trailed off before she shook her head, remembering what she was going to say before she was so rudely...interrupted. "You know," She scoffed, her arrogant and condescending tone easily returning in a matter of seconds. "I'm not going to waste my time on someone with such hideous taste in clothes. I mean really, green? That is the most disgusting color in the history of mankind." She said, turning away from the other girl. "I think you'd actually look better in...maybe a bright red? Perhaps a blue or a yellow." With that, she walked away from Peggy, deciding to let the others decide on where they want to go. She felt...tired, actually. Kind of drained, physically. ...Blake was still laughing, and that stupid song of Jacksons... well, that was fine. Not like she cared about either of them anyways. Maybe they'd get eaten by a scyther or something, and then she'd be the one laughing. well, either way, she hoped they made camp soon.</s> <\|message\|>Melody Avery Hemlock ~Melody Hemlock~ Peggy's hand whipped across Abigail's face with a resounding slap. Melody froze, wide-eyed. That asshole musician guy started singing a nasty little ditty. Swinub-boy started laughing hysterically. And all Melody could feel was anger. No. That was wrong. It was more than that. She'd never really had friends before. She'd spent most of her life transferring from school to school as her parents went from one promotion to the next. When had she ever had time to build a lasting relationship? She didn't know how to have friends. So when they'd started out on this whole Pokemon journey thing, a happy little group of eight, she'd… she'd thought that maybe they could all get along. She'd thought wrong, clearly. Jackson's singing and Blake's laughter rang in her ears. They… they were all on Abigail's case because she'd been being mean, but… they were being just as awful, weren't they? Deep down, Melody knew Abigail wasn't being a particularly nice girl. And… it wasn't like she liked the things that Abigail was saying, no matter how grateful she'd been about Abigail not preferring Peggy to her. She'd been so lonely before she'd become a trainer. It was odd, really, how alone you could feel even when you were surrounded by people. But Melody had never known those people. She'd always been the new kid, who'd be gone within a few month's time anyway. Who would bother with her? But Abigail had given her directions even though she'd been a total stranger at that point. Abigail had said that they'd look out for each other. She and Abigail were a team. How could she not want to help Abigail achieve her dream? She didn't mind the fact that Abigail was probably using her. Who was she, if not someone who could stand by Abigail, and help her, and protect her? So maybe none of these people were going to be her friends. She hated Jackson and Alex already. Peggy, she'd thought, could have been her friend…. But clearly not. Melody could never be friends with someone who'd hurt Abigail. And she'd make them pay for what they were doing later. But… not now. Not in front of Abigail. And then Avery, clearly misinterpreting the situation, jumped in to embrace both Abigial and Peggy. "Aww… GROUP HUG~!" "G-get off!" snapped Abigail. She was blushing, but… she didn't look too unhappy. So Avery had managed to defuse the situation? Wow. Melody really did like that boy. "Arceus Avery, warn me next time when you're going to go touching people! Some of us don't...don't like...uhm...the whole...touching thing." She turned back to Peggy. "You know," she continued. "I'm not going to waste my time on someone with such hideous taste in clothes. I mean really, green? That is the most disgusting color in the history of mankind. I think you'd actually look better in...maybe a bright red? Perhaps a blue or a yellow." That was fashion advice… and actually very true. Melody thought that Peggy really would look better in blue. But she didn't care about Peggy anymore. Peggy wasn't someone who Melody could be friends with anymore. She felt a pang of sadness that she brushed off hurriedly, and jogged off to catch up to Abigail, who was walking off. She didn't even give the rest of the group a backwards glance. They weren't worth her time… except Avery, maybe. And she didn't know much about Ryley either. Awkwardly, she wrapped Abigail in a quick hug, but let go fairly soon. Abigail had said that she didn't like physical contact, right? "Um," she said, mumbling in the exact way that her mother had always scolded her about. She didn't want the others to hear her, but she wanted to make Abigail feel better, anyway. "Abigail… they're all idiots. You know that, right? Your suggestion was just as good as theirs, and they had no right to act the way they did. But, uh… I'll always be your friend. And I'm always on your side. Okay?" She smiled self-consciously. It didn't matter if the rest of them didn't like her. It didn't matter if the rest of them thought she was nothing but a follower, always trailing after Abigail. As long as she had Abigail… as long as she had her best friend, she could do anything.</s>	<\|message\|>Ryley Grisdoe It didn't take long for Ryley to outrun the spider pokemon. Having too many legs can slow you down apparently. Once they were out of sight, he slowed down a bit, realizing he did kinda leave the others behind. They were the reason he ventured after them in the first place, but those spiders… Thankfully, the unpleasant thoughts of spiders were interrupted by the rest of the group running away. From more spiders… Well, it was time for another fun run through the forest of spiders. Luckily it was lot shorter than his previous run, as they escaped onto the route fairly quickly. Now the group was back in one piece. That was one way to start off their journey! The topic of where the group was headed continued as it had before the pokemon catching spree. Melody, Abigail, and Avery had voted to go north towards Blackthorn. That left five votes to be tallied, with the re-appearance of the musician. Peggy brought up the original idea of going to Cherrygrove. Then everything escalated yet again. Abigail laughed at Peggy's desire to meet up with family, and proceeded to verbally slap her back and forth. It felt as though she was being cruel just for cruelty's sake, but she was probably being honest with herself. That was worse in some cases. Adding fuel to the fire came Alex with a series of small verbal jabs at Abigail. Melody tried to mitigate the situation, but it was too late. In retort to Abigail's verbal slapping, Peggy had literally slapped back. Violence should be avoided, but that… that was fairly justified. Even so, it shocked Ryley to see the nervous Peggy respond like that. He was sure the rest of the group, even Peggy herself, felt similarly. Though from there, the group responded a bit differently. Mr. Music started off by playing a song about the slap. And slapping in general. Weird. Blake responded in a huge fit of laughter to the slap, then the song. Laughter only made things worse, but Ryley could see why Blake found the situation hilarious. Lastly, Avery completely misinterpreted everything and gave Peggy and Abigail a 'GROUP HUG'. This, along with Abigail's stammering to the hug, not the slap, managed to earn a small chuckle from Ryley. Somehow Avery had helped defuse the situation immensely. Perhaps everyone needed a bit of airheadedness in their lives. After the hug and song had finished, Abigail spat one more insult to Peggy, but followed up with what could be seen as an apology. Everyone did have a conscience after all. Well, except for the sociopaths, but that's a different story. Things seemed to settle down as Abigail walked off wearily, Melody following with a glance towards the group. Despite the calm, it felt as though the group had split apart. That needed to be fixed. "How about we make camp soon guys?" Having the group settle down would be really helpful towards mending bridges. "I don't know about you guys, but a bit of rest sounds amazing".</s>
<\|description\|>Ryley Grisdoe Age: 18 Gender: Male Appearance: Ryley falls around the height of 5'8''. He normally has a serious look on his face, but he doesn't really realize it, and it changes fairly easily. His hair often gets messy, despite his attempts at combing/brushing/whatevering. He prefers to wear a lighter t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Y'know, the 'usual'. He doesn't really care about appearance that much though, and prefers comfortable, practical clothes. Personality: Ryley is a very 'down to earth' type of guy. He can come off as sarcastic sometimes due to this. He won't run away from the truth of things, even when things are rough. However, he'll do what he can to change the 'truth' of matters if he doesn't like it. Also, just because he faces the truth doesn't mean he won't lie. Ryley respects others' opinions and ideas, as most of them have a good reason or cause behind them. Due to this, many people find him to be friendly. However, he tends to avoid people with ideas he doesn't agree with, if possible. This may seem rude, but Ryley doesn't want to argue others with strong beliefs, as he believes no one wins in those cases. Ryley enjoys the company of others, though he's not that good at small talk. He's better at having deep discussions. He may throw in a quick quip here or there in normal conversations, but overall he prefers to listen. History: Ryley grew up in Unova. More specifically, Opelucid City (W/W2 version). His mother died only 6 months after he was born, so he grew up alone with his father. His father worked as an assistant to the town's gym leader, Drayden. Due to this, Ryley learned a lot about dragon types, especially the legendary duo Reshiram and Zekrom. The idea of truth and ideals fighting always interested him, though it was slightly confusing. When he was 9 years old, his dad got laid off due to less trainers battling. He couldn't find another job in the city, so they had to move from home sweet home. They ended up moving to Violet City, where his dad got a job maintaining Sprout Tower. Though the lore of Opelucid was great, the history of Sprout Tower, combined with the nearby Ruins of Alph managed to sate Ryley's curiosity. Eventually, the wild pokemon's aggressiveness became so bad that Ryley couldn't travel to the Ruins alone. He became fairly agitated due to this, and wanted to do something. He tried asking questions around town, and soon found out that the wild pokemon everywhere were being more aggressive, but nobody knew exactly why. He decided he'd try to find out the source of the problem, and solve it. He got his dad's approval fairly easily and signed up for a license. With equipment in hand, he headed out. Quirks/Habits/Other: -Likes to learn about lore and history of various things -Doesn't have much of a taste. He often goes with whatever is healthiest, or he's in the mood for. -Loves the feeling of when a good plan succeeds. -Doesn't really realize it, but he's good at predicting what someone is about to do based on their movement and changes in pattern. Inventory: - Pokeballs x5 - Burn Heal x5 - Paralyze Heal x5 - Sleep Heal x5 - Antidote x5 - Potion x5 - Two extra sets of clothes - Old X-transceiver (acts mostly as a phone) - Camping gear - Notebook and 3 pens - $100 - A black backpack to carry everything in Pokemon: None TL;DR: Morally stable, and mentally strong. Fairly social person. Often serious and very curious. His color is yellow</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Blanchett ~Abigail Blanchett~ Good, it seemed Melody was safe for now. Not that she really cared, but she wasn't going to let that Onix just do as it pleased. Unfortuantely, it seemed that no matter what the trainers threw at it, it just didn't seemed to do anything. Just how strong was this wild pokemon supposed to be?! she knew they were supposed to be more aggressive and dangerous...but with the Ariados, and now the Onix...was all of their journey gonna be like this?! Damn it, if it was, then how the hell were they even supposed to walk two steps without being ambushed by something!? "We've gotta run! There's no way we're beating this thing. Let's go!" Melody's voice snapped her out of her ever spiraling negative thoughts. Right, no time for thinking. What was she even doing thinking things like that at a time like this? Action, action was needed. And running was something Abigail was inclined to agree with. The Onix obviously was way out of their league right now, even if she didn't want to really admit it. After Avery, Melody, Ryley, and then Blake started fleeing, so did Abigail after recalling the Spinarak. Tyrian dashed right alongside Abigail, following as swiftly as it could. The Onix roared in rage, not happy about its newly found prey escaping. It charged after the escaping trainers, but thankfully they seemed to be putting some distance between themselves and the enraged pokemon. It seemed, like they might actually get away from the beast if they kept it up. And that's when things got...well, a lot worse. The Onix roared, and it started picking up speed. The jagged rocks on its body seemed to glow with a blue energy, the rocks on its body seemed to polish themselves and smooth the jagged stones. The various scars seemed to disappear from its body. It leaped into the air, slamming its body onto the ground, creating a cloud of dust and rocky debris. With a roar, it used its tail to lob large rocks at the fleeing trainers as it attempted to cut off their escape route. A rock, landed just inches in front of Abigail as she ran. It seemed, for whatever reason the Onix was not going to let them leave so easily. Damn it, if only Tyrian had learned Double Kick already! That with Totodile and Swinub...they might jut be able to drive it off. "We need a new plan! Like now!" She shouted.</s> <\|message\|>Melody Avery Hemlock ~Melody Hemlock~ "Let's get out of here! Jasper!" Peggy was the first to follow after her when Melody broke into a run. The other girl had seemed to have a bit of trouble with her Houndour, and had had to recall it, but caught up quickly enough. Next came Avery, and then Ryley --who seemed to be doing some kind of bizarre multi-dimensional growl attack thing with his Chikorita, Fern—and then finally, Abigail. Sprinting past, Melody hadn't been able to ignore the strangely unhappy look on the other girl's face. What was Abigail thinking? But then, of course, Abigail seemed to snap out of it, recalling her Spinarak and joining her escaping companions. And for a moment, it looked like they were in the clear. Melody sighed in relief, feeling a little hopeful-- But the Onix, of course, didn't seem particularly happy about this. It roared and suddenly started to pick up speed. Rock Polish? Melody thought in disbelief. Are you kidding me? It leapt into the air, surprisingly nimble for such an enormous creature, lobbing rocks at them with its tail as it made to cut off their escape path. Could they drive it off? Melody bit her lip, uncertain. Even if Blake and Jackson combined forces with their Swinub and Totodile… they were clearly outmatched. All of them were beginners, after all. Would they be able to do it, with a brute-force strategy like that? A rock landed only inches away from Abigail, and Melody sucked in a breath. She couldn't let Abigail get hurt. She couldn't! And what if Blake and Jackson couldn't drive the creature off? "We need a new plan! Like now!" shouted Abigail. There was only one option for Melody. She couldn't just stay passive and follow after Abigail, hoping that they'd both be fine. If she wanted to be Abigail's best friend… Then she had to prove herself, didn't she? She recalled Tesla, and prepared to do something reckless, heroic and maybe a little bit suicidal. Because really. How dare that stupid Onix try to endanger Abigail? Okay, so maybe she couldn't beat it yet… but she could at least try to distract it, right? "Run, Abigail!" she yelled. "It's too fast, we have to split up! I'll try and lead it in a different direction. You guys get away, I'll be fine!" Would she really…? She wasn't sure. But, well… let it never be said that Melody Avery Hemlock was a coward. And if this had even the slightest chance of helping Abigail… Then really, she had no other choice. Melody swerved, breaking away from the group and towards the Onix. "Thunder wave on the eyes, again!" she said, and Tesla shot an electrical wave right at the Onix. The bright lights caught its attention, and it howled in fury, swinging around to face her. She kept running. Melody wasn't much of an endurance runner, but at least she wasn't too bad at sprinting when she wanted to be… though she had to admit that she definitely preferred her mother's emphasis on prim, graceful walking to speeding around like Sonic the Shaymin. This was quite possibly the bravest, most terrifying thing she'd ever done in her entire life "Let's lead it away, Zubat!" she yelled. Zubat swooped in for another aerial attack, and succeeded in driving the Onix away from the main group… but only narrowly missing getting chomped on. The Onix roared. It was getting closer and closer, and Melody was starting to get out of breath… but she had to keep running. The Onix was chasing her, wasn't it? She couldn't see the other trainers when she glanced behind her. That was a good thing, she told herself. That meant that Abigail was out of danger. But she couldn't help the fear making her veins feel like they'd iced over. "Thunder wave again, Tesla!" she yelled. "On the eyes!" Tesla was getting surprisingly good at this whole "aim-for-the-eyes-and-keep-running" thing. Temporarily blinded, the Onix howled. It swung around blindly. Now what? She was definitely out of breath. Terrified, she threw herself under a bush, doing her best to ignore the creeping sense of revulsion that she was getting from being on her hands and knees in the dirt and grass. It couldn't see her… right?</s>	<\|message\|>Ryley Grisdoe Well, the Growl attack did slow the Onix down, but not when it decided to use it's brain. Ryley couldn't help but groan. Of course it knew Rock Polish. Of course. And just to add to this wonderful mess, a torrent of rocks pelted down ahead of them. That certainly didn't help their escape. Hell, Abigail nearly got crushed by one! ...He recalled Fern just in case. Running was still the best option, but it was getting bleaker by the second. They needed to slow down the Onix even more. There were trees around them. Bringing one down in front of, or even on the rock snake would slow it quite a bit. The problem was finding a way to bring a tree crashing down. As Ryley was entertaining ways to fell a tree, Melody decided to act. "Run, Abigail! It's too fast, we have to split up!" ...No no no. Splitting up would be the worst thing to do now. They needed to find a way to slow it down with a variety of- "I'll try and lead it in a different direction. You guys get away, I'll be fine!" No no no no no no no. No no no. No. What the hell Melody. Seriously, what the hell. You don't just do that. You don't just lead a gigantic rock snake away all by yourself. She had gotten into a dangerous situation earlier with the Spinarak, but that was different as they didn't know how dangerous it was. This time, they all knew the danger (Well, maybe not Avery…), and Melody was still… By the time Ryley's thoughts cooled down, Melody had managed to distract the Onix, and was leading it away from everyone else. She was fast, he had to give her credit, but a speed boosted Onix wasn't anything to wag a finger at. ...And here he was, just standing like an idiot. Well, time to act. Deja vu could really suck sometimes. "I'm going to hate myself for this…" Muttering contemptuously helped calm him down as he made his next move, calling out to the group. "I'm going after her. She's going to get herself killed". Without waiting for a response, Ryley turned around and chased after Melody. He couldn't see either Melody or the Onix in sight, but the trail of destruction certainly helped. It took a while to catch up, but when he did, his blood ran cold. The Onix was there, but it had stopped. Frightening on its own, but the scary part was Melody was nowhere to be seen. Ryley's thoughts turned towards various scenarios that could have played out, none of them pleasant. Almost all of them ending with Melody being dead. At least, they all did until Ryley noticed a flash of pink in a bush by the trail. That was a big relief. She wouldn't be able to hide long at that spot, but at least she was alive. Now the burden of action lay upon Ryley. What would be the best course of action in this case? He needed to get in contact with Melody, make sure she was okay, but the Onix was currently looking around, probably for Melody, which inhibited his actions. First he needed to distract the snake somehow. The rest could come later. Ryley picked up two decently sized rocks laying in the Onix's wake and threw them in quick succession in the opposite direction of Melody's location. As he waited for them to land, he noted the direction he threw them in was towards the Spinarak nest. Maybe, just maybe, he could use that to his advantage. In any case, as soon as the rocks landed, the Onix turned towards the new sounds created. Best case scenario, the Onix would follow the sounds presuming that's where Melody fled. As for almost every other scenario, more work was to be done. Ryley used his created opportunity to rush over to Melody's hiding spot, sliding behind the bush, hopefully out of view. He had to make this brief. "Sorry for barging into your party, but we need to lead it to the Spinarak nest". Ryley couldn't look to see what the Onix was doing, but he hoped it was blindly following the sounds of the rocks. That would save them from the possibility of death. Y'know, nothing big or anything.</s>
<\|description\|>Ryley Grisdoe Age: 18 Gender: Male Appearance: Ryley falls around the height of 5'8''. He normally has a serious look on his face, but he doesn't really realize it, and it changes fairly easily. His hair often gets messy, despite his attempts at combing/brushing/whatevering. He prefers to wear a lighter t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Y'know, the 'usual'. He doesn't really care about appearance that much though, and prefers comfortable, practical clothes. Personality: Ryley is a very 'down to earth' type of guy. He can come off as sarcastic sometimes due to this. He won't run away from the truth of things, even when things are rough. However, he'll do what he can to change the 'truth' of matters if he doesn't like it. Also, just because he faces the truth doesn't mean he won't lie. Ryley respects others' opinions and ideas, as most of them have a good reason or cause behind them. Due to this, many people find him to be friendly. However, he tends to avoid people with ideas he doesn't agree with, if possible. This may seem rude, but Ryley doesn't want to argue others with strong beliefs, as he believes no one wins in those cases. Ryley enjoys the company of others, though he's not that good at small talk. He's better at having deep discussions. He may throw in a quick quip here or there in normal conversations, but overall he prefers to listen. History: Ryley grew up in Unova. More specifically, Opelucid City (W/W2 version). His mother died only 6 months after he was born, so he grew up alone with his father. His father worked as an assistant to the town's gym leader, Drayden. Due to this, Ryley learned a lot about dragon types, especially the legendary duo Reshiram and Zekrom. The idea of truth and ideals fighting always interested him, though it was slightly confusing. When he was 9 years old, his dad got laid off due to less trainers battling. He couldn't find another job in the city, so they had to move from home sweet home. They ended up moving to Violet City, where his dad got a job maintaining Sprout Tower. Though the lore of Opelucid was great, the history of Sprout Tower, combined with the nearby Ruins of Alph managed to sate Ryley's curiosity. Eventually, the wild pokemon's aggressiveness became so bad that Ryley couldn't travel to the Ruins alone. He became fairly agitated due to this, and wanted to do something. He tried asking questions around town, and soon found out that the wild pokemon everywhere were being more aggressive, but nobody knew exactly why. He decided he'd try to find out the source of the problem, and solve it. He got his dad's approval fairly easily and signed up for a license. With equipment in hand, he headed out. Quirks/Habits/Other: -Likes to learn about lore and history of various things -Doesn't have much of a taste. He often goes with whatever is healthiest, or he's in the mood for. -Loves the feeling of when a good plan succeeds. -Doesn't really realize it, but he's good at predicting what someone is about to do based on their movement and changes in pattern. Inventory: - Pokeballs x5 - Burn Heal x5 - Paralyze Heal x5 - Sleep Heal x5 - Antidote x5 - Potion x5 - Two extra sets of clothes - Old X-transceiver (acts mostly as a phone) - Camping gear - Notebook and 3 pens - $100 - A black backpack to carry everything in Pokemon: None TL;DR: Morally stable, and mentally strong. Fairly social person. Often serious and very curious. His color is yellow</s> <\|message\|>Melody Avery Hemlock ~Melody Hemlock~ So apparently, Avery could climb. In fact, Avery could climb like an Aipom. What… the heck? In a flash, the boy was up a tree and concealed in the leaves. You couldn't even really see him anymore. Melody breathed a deep sigh of relief. Thank goodness. She'd been starting to get… well, really worried. The Onix burst out of the Pokeball in a flash of light. It roared, even angrier than before… and then stopped, seemingly confused, and understandably so. Its prey had just disappeared, of course. Its tail lashed at the air frantically, barely missing Avery's tree, and it sniffed at the ground. Not for the first time, Melody wished that her hair was… some shade other than brightbrightbright pink, because the Onix found them fairly quickly. She shut her eyes hastily. The bush rustled, and suddenly she could feel the Onix's hot breath on her face. She tried not to shake, but it was hard, especially since she couldn't see anything and had no clue whether she was about to be eaten or not. It won't eat me, she told herself. It thinks I'm dead. Besides, Onixes don't even eat meat! Uh… I think. But she had to stay still. She had to keep her eyes closed. She had to. A few long seconds crawled by, and suddenly she couldn't feel the Onix's breath anymore. She waited a few minutes, until she was certain that the telltale sound of the Onix's long, rocky body scraping against the ground was fading away into the distance… and then she opened her eyes. Sure enough, she couldn't see the Onix. Still, she lay unmoving for a moment longer, before she finally deemed it safe enough to sit up. "It… worked?" she said uncertainly, nudging Ryley, who was lying beside her. There was no sign of the Onix. Tentatively, she stood, and offered a hand to Ryley. "I think we're probably safe for now," she whispered, unwilling to draw the Onix's attention back to their little group. "Want to head back, and try to find everyone?" They were alive. They were still alive. That crazy, stupid gamble that she'd taken had paid off, and they weren't dead. Maybe Arceus was smiling down upon them... or something. The sun was shining. The Pidgeys were chirping. And they were still alive. All in all... suddenly, the day seemed so much better. Melody smiled. It was amazing how good surviving a near-death situation could feel.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Blanchett ~Abigail Blanchett~ "Uhm...well. Who says we make camp now? I could go for some food." After receiving no reply, Abigial took a quick look around. Where....? She was utterly alone out here, save for Tyrian who was playing with a blade of grass. Did the others...get killed by the Onix?... for a moment, her legs felt weak. "Ugh...well if they got eaten that's their problem." She sighed, somewhat awkwardly as whatever remorse or grief she may have briefly felt vanishing in an instant. Time to make camp then. she'd get an early start tomorrow without those idiots slowing her down. First things first, get her tent up. She reached into her bag, pulling out a small one-person tent that was easily folded into her admittedly rather large purse. She sat laid her purse on the ground, getting to work on putting the tent up. While she worked, Tyrian went about doing...whatever it was he normally did. He had lost interest in the blade of grass that he was playing with, and instead started snooping inside of her bag. After a few minutes, he found his way to one of the repels she had picked up earlier. Being the curious little pokemon that he was, he started gnawing on the can. just as she finished putting up the tent, she heard a small cry as Tyrian scurried out of her bag, growling softly as he tried to get the taste of the repel off of his tongue. "Oi, you little troublemaker! What are you doing now?" She asked, walking over to the small pokemon as he started gnawing on a blade of grass. "What did you do now?" She asked, causing the pokemon to growl towards her bag in response. With a sigh, she knelt down and looked inside, only to find most of her things were now covered in repel. ...well, at least wild pokemon wouldn't be taking her things now. With a sigh she gave Tyrian a harsh look. "That'll teach you to mess with things." She grumbled, but didn't do anything else. Right...firewood. She needed firewood. It was starting to get cold, and she was still hungry... having a fire type would be awesome right about now...ah well, she'd manage. ~~~~~~~~ Sometime later, she had a nice little fire going in the small clearing she had found herself in. A water bottle sat empty on the ground next to her. It didn't take her very long to get a nice little meal cooked after getting the fire going. Tyrian was curled up in a little ball next to her, sleeping soundly. She should probably be getting to bed soon too, then. Not like there was much else she could do, but oddly enough she wasn't tired. She sighed, throwing another stick into the fire. Oh well. She'd buy more at Cherrygrove once she got there tomorrow. She'd also need to find a new partner to travel with since the others seemed to have vanished. Shouldn't be a problem to find a decently competent looking trainer in Cherrygrove, unlike the idiots she was previously forced to partner with. ...speaking of partners, she should really probably check on that Spinarak. "Alright, out you go." She said as she released the bug type from it's pokeball. The Spinarak looked momentarily dazed, probably still slightly hurting from that beating it had earlier from the Onix. After regaining its senses, it looked up at Abigail, studying her momentarily. "Alright, we had a deal. Go if you want." She sighed, causing the Spinarak to narrow its eyes slightly at her, as if it was expecting some kind of trick or other form of deception. "Look here, bug, you wanna leave, then leave, I'm not gonna stop you. You're annoying anyways." Abigail huffed. The spinarak still seemed to be studying her quietly, as if it still didn't entirely believe her. Still, it started to turn to leave slowly. After it was out of sight. Abigail sighed again, and picked up the sleeping Tyrian. "looks like it's just me and you." She sighed. "Ah well, we don't need those losers or that stupid bug, do we? We'll do just fine without them!" She gave Tyrian a huge grin, before giving it a pat on the head. He ignored her, and simply curled back up on her lap. and that's, when she felt something crawling on her head. Again. "That's not going to work twice, bug." She said, tilting her head up to get a glimpse of a familiar looking bug. It seemed somewhat disappointed that it hadn't freaked her out like last time. "Dunno why you're back, but if you're coming with me, you're gonna have to do as I say, alright?" She told the bug type, to which it simply rolled its eyes and settled down on her head. "You mess up my hair again by the way, I will feed you to a flock of hoothoot." She frowned. Damn it...she was still hungry, but she didn't want to eat all of her food. ...oh well, what's the worse that could happen? She'd be a cherrygrove soon anyways. She'd easily get more food there.</s>	<\|message\|>Ryley Grisdoe Ryley lay motionless on the ground, not daring to make any movements. The only thought going through his head, besides wanting to not die, was wondering how Avery would react. "Good idea with the pokeball, there," Although the compliment was nice, now was not the time to be idly chit chatting. At least Melody didn't say any more than that. Neither did Avery, which was surprising to say the least. Then again, one could say he spoke with his movement. There was some rustling, a thud, then more rustling. Did… did Avery try to hide by climbing a tree? Ryley knew he shouldn't be surprised by Avery's randomness by this point, but you can never prepare yourself for true randomness. And Avery was random incarnate. A roar startled Ryley from his thoughts. The pokeball had lasted longer than expected, luckily for them. There was some thrashing that came shortly thereafter, but no cries of pain. Avery actually hid himself well. Sniffing followed the thrashing, the Onix apparently searching. And with the two of them in plain view… it didn't take long. Here it was, the moment of truth. Heated air flew over Ryley's body in slow, measured gusts. His body screamed at him to run, but he was in control, and so he stayed. Well, that and he was frozen to the spot. Can't be fearless, after all. Time was irrelevant at this point. The only measure was between hot and lukewarm air. Those waves of heat eventually stopped, the Onix moving. When those waves were taken away from him, Ryley was lost. How much time had passed? Was the Onix gone? Why did it feel so cold now? If Ryley were a pokemon, he'd hurt himself in confusion. Time must have passed, because he eventually felt a nudge. The Onix was back again? No… the touch was too gentle. Ryley hesitantly opened his eyes to see Melody standing, hand extended towards him. Had she said something? Ryley couldn't tell. However, from what he could tell... "The Onix is gone?" He took the extended grip, and, with Melody's help, stood up. "I think we're probably safe for now. Want to head back, and try to find everyone?" Holy hell, they had survived. Ryley gave a deep sigh of relief, tension escaping his body. "Yeah… Let's get Avery and group up." Group… Group… Something about that reminded him of something. He gathered his jumbled thoughts and quickly came to his senses. Oh, right! He turned to face Melody, his composure built. "Before I forget… Don't ever, ever do that again Melody. There's a reason why we travel in a group, and it's not so you can split off from it. I don't care how noble your intentions are, it only puts us in more danger." Ryley took a deep breath in. He had needed to get that out of his system. After he said that, he looked around for anyone else. No one, besides the hidden Avery. Geez, if others had shown up, his argument would have been a lot stronger. But still… He continued to look at Melody, not sure of what to do next. A realization came to him. What if they couldn't find everyone else? That'd mean he'd be stuck with the possible psycho with good intent, and the complete airhead, with what Ryley assumed was also good intent. Good intent aside, that left… Oh Arceus, please let them find the others.</s>
<\|description\|>Blake Winterhawk PERSONAL INFORMATION AGE: 18 GENDER: Male PERSONALITY: At first glance, Blake comes off as a serious, apathetic kind of guy. However, a pleasant surprice awaits you if you decide to get to know him better as he is actually very sociable and outgoing; if you get him to actually pay attention that is. Yeah... concentration isn't his strong suite and he is often found daydreaming, caught in his own little world. That, nevertheless, doesn't hinder him when it comes to his achieving the goals he sets. Blake is an overachiever and always strives to be the best at everything he does, moreso when it comes to breeding and training pokemon. He will almost never turn down a battle and thrives in extreme environments due to the experience he has gained from the regular wild excursions he went with his brothers when they were younger. Blake doesn't shy away from voicing his opinion when it matters. When faced with difficulty, he tries to deal with the problem at hand carefully and efficiently, making him a valuable asset to any team. HISTORY: Blake hails from Blackthorn City. His family, the Winterhawks, are well known for producing accompliced Dragon Tamers and take pride in that fact. His childhood, well, if there was one adjective to describe it, that would be adventurous. His two older brothers, James and Bracken were always there for him through good and bad times. When they were little, the three would venture together to the outskirts of the city. They would often sneak inside the Ice Path, exploring it for hours before their father came looking for them, worried that they might have lost their way inside the cave. Their luck didn't last for long though and one day, their fathers' worst fears came true. The three brothers had gone on their usual little expedition inside Ice Path. Having explored most of the cave near the entrance, they decided to go a little deeper, figuring that if something went wrong, they could always return back by following their footsteps in the snow. Well, they were mistaken. Before they had left for the expedition, their father, Joseph, had warned them not to venture too deep inside Ice Path because the wild Steelix that made their home there had entered their breeding period and they were very agrressive towards anyone who they thought invaded their territory. The three brothers ignored their fathers' warning and went deeper and deeper inside the cave, straying away from the main path with every step they took up. After half an hour or so, they had gone so deep inside the cave that they could no longer find the path back to the entrance. What's more, their footsteps in the snow had been covered with a thin layer of ice, making them indiscernible to the boys novice tracking eyes. That is when the Steelix appeared. Apparently, they had entered one of the nests where the female Steelix would gather and lay their eggs and as a result, the Steelix thought they were there to steal the eggs and tried to protect them. They attacked the boys and would have been almost killed if it wasn't for two brave Jinx that protected them from the danger by driving away the Steelix. Blake couldn't believe in his eyes. He couldn't believe it moreso when suddenly out of nowhere, Piloswine and Swinub approached the three lost boys and helped them. They carried them on their backs, guiding them safely back to the main path and to the outside world. From that day, Blake became fascinated with Ice-type Pokemon and made it his goal to become one of the best Ice-type Pokemon breeders and trainers in the Johto Region, and why not, the world! As such, after spending a couple of years getting down the basics of breeding, he set out to get his first pokemon from Professor Elm. QUIRKS/HABITS * He always gets mad with his old man because he never stops bickering about him choosing Ice-types over Dragon-types. * He is actually pretty good at managing money and as such, has very little expenses aside from the essentials. * Unknown to him, whenever he gets mad, a bulging vein appears on his forehead. * He has a mild case of germophobia. He never shares anything that has to do with food, drink etc with others. Other than that, he is perfectly fine with whatever your typical germophobe might be afraid of. INVENTORY: * His trusty PokeGear. * A black coloured shoulder bag where he puts all his belongings. * Potions x3 * Pokeballs x3 * TM59 - Dragon Pulse x1 that his father gave to him as a last effort to make his son change his mind and follow the path of the Dragon Tamer. Needless to say, he failed. * A change of clothes for the road. * 100$ POKEMON: * Lvl. 5 Acquired from Prof. Elm Ability: Snow Cloak Adamant Nature Loves to eat Egg Move: AncientPower TL;DR: Read the CS you lazy bum!</s> <\|message\|>Peggy Atkinson - Peggy Atkinson - "Sorry, gotta go! Peggy, the repel on the floor is for you. I'm going to go catch up to Abigail. You guys hurry, okay? Bye!" Peggy lifted her head slightly as she watched Melody rush out the lab after Abigail. She frowned slightly. After Abigail had been so mean, how could Melody be so eager to hang around her? Then again, the way Melody talked about Abigail made it seem like the two knew each other. Maybe they were childhood friends and Melody was just used to Abigail being a jerk? That was the only excuse Peggy's depressed and embittered mind could come up with. She glanced down at the repel Melody had dropped on the floor and, despite the fact her body felt incredibly heavy, she got off the chair and scooped up the repel and put it in her bag alongside the other one. One of the other trainers, a boy with light brown hair, spoke up to her. "Hey, it's okay. It's just good to know you're fine," he said. Peggy managed to smile at him. Well, maybe it wasn't all that bad, then. She had two repels, which was more than anyone else had, Melody seemed to care enough about her to give her a gift, and all these trainers she hardly knew cared enough to make sure she didn't keel over from panic. How did that song go? 'Always look on the bright side of life'? Anyhow, she decided she should run after the rest of the group so as not to be left behind. She particularly wanted to keep up with Avery and Melody, Avery because he was the first person she had met and she wanted to make sure he hadn't gotten a bad impression of her from earlier, and Melody because Peggy had decided that, of all the group, she seemed to be one of the kindest and probably the most tolerant. After all, she seemed to be able to put up with Abigail's bullshit. 'No, no, I mustn't think like that,' Peggy thought to herself scoldingly. Sure, she herself didn't like Abigail, but Melody did, and Peggy liked Melody, so she should at least try to put up with Abigail for Melody's sake, right? Right then and there, Peggy made an internal vow to try and be nice to Abigail... ... no matter how much she didn't want to. Steeling herself for a moment and taking in a deep breath, she made her way out of the lab, giving a shy wave behind her to the Professor and his assistant before following after the rest of the group. They were already a little ahead, so she had to run for a few minutes to catch up. One she did, she quietly started walking behind Avery, shyly pulling her hat down once again as she did so. She thought about trying to start a conversation but quickly decided against it, knowing full well she'd probably end up sounding like an idiot. Instead, she decided to preoccupy herself with thinking about what Pokemon she would try and catch one they got onto the route. She'd definitely try to catch a Pokemon, and do her best to be gentle and friendly to it so it wouldn't take against her like Houndour had. Oh yeah, she still needed to think of a name for Houndour. Peggy frowned. She wasn't all that good with naming things. She tried to think... what had her father name his Mightyena again? Jet, she think it was, after the gemstone. Okay, maybe a gemstone name. As they headed towards the route, she started running through the list of gemstones she knew, trying to figure out which would be the best.</s> <\|message\|>Alexander "Alex" Elric -Alexander Elric- The pink haired girl, Melody, seemed to be a rather nice person. Atleast, she created that impression. She introduced some people to Blake and Alex. Peggy, the hyperventilating girl, Avery, not the brightest light in the room and last and probably least, Abigail. Peggy was starting to calm down. Alex felt sorry for the girl. It was obvious that Abigail had something to do with reacting this way. And not only did Abigail already torment this girl, but she also had a bad first greeting with her Houndour. The next time that Houndour would be out and it would be this aggressive to Peggy Alex would help her out. And Eevee too ofcourse! Speaking about Eevee, he had been running circles around the group, happily barking to everyone and wagging his tail in excitment. Well, atleast someone was having the time of his life. Then Elm walked in and Eevee had to suddenly stop to avoid a collision with him. He did... But he slided over the floor right behind a file cabinet, luckily not bumping against anything, and it looked quite hilarious. Elm handed out the Pokemon licences and Alex took his before he walked over to Eevee who was now again playing with his tail. "Well Eevee, are you coming or what?" Alex said with a smile, Eevee just looked so adorable, Alex was fearing how he could ever punish Eevee if he did something wrong. Just look at those cute eyes and that tail! Alex probably had to think of a name for his Eevee but at the moment that wasnt really a concern. Right now he was going to look ahead to all the fun he and Eevee were going to have and maybe he might even grow fond of some of his traveling companions... Maybe. Alex, closly followed by Eevee, caught up with the main group. Well, this probably was alright. It could be worse, there could be two Abigails...</s>	<\|message\|>Blake Winterhawk Blake was completely oblivious to Abigail's comments. The girl in front of him had his complete attention. Thankfully, she had followed Blake's advice and started mumbling to herself the 'I am fine' mantra. Alex approached them, bringing with him a chair for her to sit. Blake watched as she nodded thanks to Alex and sat down on the chair. "Thanks man" Blake told Alex as he himself stood up, tidying up his coat. "Phew, you gotta be carefull with those panic attacks" he told the girl with a smile. Said the pink-haired girl and placed a repel down on the floor, next to the chair. "So timid girl's name is Peggy. Noted." "...and her name is Melody. I already knew about Avery from Elm's little introduction earlier, Hey" he responded to Avery's greeting. "...but why are you excited to introduce her?" Blake wondered. In the small amount of time he had known Abigail, he had already grown to despise her guts. He resolved to completely ignore her, now and throughout their journey. Then, Prof. Elm jumped in their little conversation, "Well, I guess he has a point. Everyone except her is getting along fine" Blake nodded in agreement. "....and what about our licences?" he was about to say but Elm's little assistant beat him to it, "Um, professor? What about their licences?" The professor seemed to space out for a moment, processing the question before giving an answer, He told them as Alfred was handing out their licences. "With this, I'm officially a Pokemon Trainer!" Blake thought excited. He put the licence in one of the pockets of his bag while listening to Prof. Elm continuing his speech. Well, Cherrygrove City seemed like a logical first destination to Blake as he looked at his Pokegear's map. Although, they could very much follow the path he took to get to New Bark. Go through the Dark Cave straight to Blackthorn. Of course, Blake had the help of experienced Hikers when he traveled through the Cave. This group was pretty much just a bunch of newbie trainers, making it very possible for someone to get hurt while travelling. Melody for one though, seemed unfazed by all that. Blake could swear she would follow Abigail to the end of the world, if it came down to that. Blake watched as one after another, they started leaving the lab. First was Abigail, followed by Melody. After bidding farewell to Alfred, Avery followed behind the two. Then Ryley and Peggy and after them, Alex. "Well, what am I waiting for?" Blake told himself and with his usual, confident stride, exited Elm's Lab. He quickly looked around, found the group and joined them.</s>
<\|description\|>MircusAshby Birthday May 27, 2081 Age 17 Gender Male Sexuality Hetero Ethnicity Irish Blood Status Pure Blood Wand 12 1/4 " Rosewood with a Phoenix Feather core Familiar Appearance Mircus is 6'0 and has a toned, athletic build. His eyes are an emerald shade. He always wears is long brown hair in a messy fashion, although it takes quite a bit of work to make it look like he puts no work into it at all. Even when Mircus is wearing casual clothing he like to show his school pride by wearing some combination of black and yellow. Likes Irish Rock and Folk music\|Quidditch\|Kenmare Kestrels\|Magical Creatures\|Helping Others\|Being Carefree Dislikes Hurting Others\|Feeling Helpless\|Orangemen Year 6th Year House Hufflepuff Personality Mircus has always been a carefree person, even since he was a child. He would always run through the fields or fly around on his broomstick, exploring the land. He was also very loyal, to both his friends and family, coming to their aid whenever necessary. He was a kind-hearted person to everyone he met, until they had given him reason not to be. He could be very helpful to his allies and quite dangerous to his enemies. Place of Origin Dublin, Ireland History Growing up in a multi-generational pure blood family wasn't as demanding as most people would have you believe. At least, not for Mircus. His parents were a bit more liberal in terms of blood status and Hogwarts Housing. He was fortunate to not have the burden of such things placed on him at a young age. However, he did find conflict soon into his early teen years. His parents came to him, explaining the importance of knowing and practicing the Dark Arts. They believed that to be a true and powerful wizard one must be able to use every school of magic available to him, not restricting himself. It made sense to a young child's brain. However, soon after learning to practice Dark Arts in secret during the summers at home, his parents began teaching him of the Dark Lord. The most powerful wizard of all time. Lord Voldemort. When he began his term at Hogwarts he had already been taught of the greatness of Voldemort and brainwashed against the "lies" he would learn in school. But he was also taught about the importance of secrecy. Soon, though, Mircus began to slowly contemplate. He wondered, what if the books and histories were true. What if Voldemort truly was as evil as they said. What if he did do these horrendous things to people. Mircus would become internally divided, wanting to be a loyal son, but not wanting to worship someone who had done such horrid things. Other Mircus is a Chaser and Team Captain for House Hufflepuff, taking his team to the House Cup twice, but always falling short, due to their seeker's incompetence. He didn't like to blame anyone, but there was only so much that could be done. This year, however, the seeker had graduated, and it would be his job to find a new one. Being a lover of all creatures, Mircus excelled at Care of Magical Creatures. His favorite was the Hippogriff.</s> <\|message\|>Julian Wolf \|Jean Clements\| \|Location: The Great Hall\| The other person had given her a glare and had practically pushed her off, stomping off down the table and leaving her kneeling on the floor, shaking. It was taken her a minute to realize it was a Slytherin and now they were back among their own, who were laughing and jeering, and pointing at her. Sometimes, she wished she'd never found out she was a witch. She didn't even have anyone here who would stand up for her. Her friends either hadn't seen or were disowning her for the moment. A chant had gotten up somewhere at the far side of the room near the Gryffindor but she had no interest in it, nor in the random shouts and calls across the room. It was Slytherin closest to the door, then Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and finally Slytherin. She'd always thought that it was this order because Gryffindor and Slytherin were like bitter rivals, so they needed to be as far apart as possible. Hufflepuffs were sweet and therefore an easy target, leaving Ravenclaw to be a small barrier between. Quite frankly, she wished to as far from the Slytherins as she could get right now. She'd gotten to her feet, shaking a little and had taken a couple of steps toward a seat when the great hall doors had sung open and Barnaby Arkwright came skidding down the isle. In her haste not to be knocked over, she landed with a thump on the bench, looking shocked. She'd never felt worse, biting her lip and shaking. "M...m...mind if I sit here?" she asked the students who she landed among. They were 3rd years, much younger than her, but didn't seem to mind and nodded. "Thank you." She sat miserably, head in her hands. She wasn't cool, like Tate or Tatum, or popular like Demetria or even funny like Barnaby. She was a joke. "Well...." she said, and then stopped herself. Finishing that sentence with something like it couldn't get worse was asking for trouble. She gave a small groan and put her head on the table, wanting to go to bed. The second time it was louder, when the Slytherin's began to sing. She wasn't sure who had it worse, the badgers being next to the lions, or her house being next to the snakes. \|Julian Wolf\| \|Location: The Great Hall\| Julian could give a flying rat about Quidditch. He'd never been interested in being on the team, but when the chanting started, he whistled to the rest of the Slytherins, most of whom started up the song, starting low and building. Most people might have recognised the tune, but the Slytherins certainly seemed to find it funny, Wolf conducting with his wand. "Who do we feel sorry for? There's no way that they can score! Gryffindor, Gryffindor. Who is easy to ignore? They can't handle what's in store. That's Gryffindor!" Many Slytherin's laughed and grinned, the noise building as they laughed and sang, but Wolf the loudest as the second verse started. "Who are we fighting for? Slytherin, Slytherin. Who's the ones who always win Slytherin. Against the Quaffle we defend Winning is all that we intend Slytherin."</s> <\|message\|>Damien Anderson Damien Anderson [ Back to Hogwarts ] --- "Come on Jullie, come here! We're going to be late if your done napping now" Damien said to his cat, arms crossed as he waited for the thing to finish its stretching and yawning. It was Damien's 6th year as a student in Hogwarts and he couldn't wait, picking up his bags and cat in the other hand, he looked back. Where he was staying was his muggle friend's place, where he was his roommate and paid for part of the rent. It was a nice time staying there with his friend but Hogwarts was calling to him and left his friend a brief reply with this month and next rent on his table and the spare key. The door was already locked, so he didn't have to worry about it and the windows were closed and latched so no one could enter. With nothing else to check, with bag and cat in hand he appirated to Hogwarts... His eyes were closed as the sensation passed, taking a deep breath as the tight squeezing grip on him disappeared, he looked at his cat and luggage before confirming they were still there. He was running slightly early however, he was in Hogsmead and would need to get to Hogwarts so, he began his trek to the school. --- It hadn't taken long as Damien dropped off this belongings and soon was in the great hall more or less on time with everyone in, sighing as he already wanted the feast to end even though he had just got here but at least he was going to see everyone again. Looking around, Damien saw the three other houses besides his and observed the newcomers to the school, keying some key individuals both new and reoccurring faces. He soon left his standing position and sat down at the Hufflepuff Table where he began to give small talk to his other members of the house. It didn't take long for his foul mood to disappear as he was captured back by his other peers and soon began talking about each other experiences while they were gone and many more other things. However, soon the room became more interesting as the Cummings Twins had a encounter with the Slytherin Jullian. It wasn't anything to be excited about but, there was always drama in the school that was happening that had to be sorted out somehow during the year. His gaze soon diverted from them and looked at his 'would-be' house, the Ravenclaws who had serious competition over their intelligence which made him glad to stay out of that house. He already knew that he wouldn't survive the backstabbing the house did to each other and was glad to be in Hufflepuff. However, a loud bang and a meek apology from a shy girl, on her was her house being Ravenclaw. Then there was Lucas, another Ravenclaw who was being given some disdainful looks for probably something he said, in which Damien wondered about his upbringing however, kept that to himself. Then there was the Slytherin household, which he absolutely gave no fucks, besides keeping some tabs on some annoying snakes he honestly didn't even want to give them any of his two cents. So, back to his table his gaze went where he observed who else was sitting at the table who he knew, which in this case everyone so, he looked for someone he talked to more than the others before pinpointing out Bleu. Despite his nature to be quiet, he went over to socialize instead deciding to be reclusive latter. "Hey, your name is Bleu right? You are in the fifth year, and..." He said next to her ear "your first year here. Yay!" He exclaimed with happiness oozing out of his words. He looked at the girl before he sat next to her and decided to pursue the conversation more, as he wanted to know more about her. She was eerie and seemed to have shown faint signs of fatigue that he noticed but if the girl wanted she could explain or not as it was none of his business. "So, since this is your first year, how was your other school like? I only been to Mahoutokoro in Japan, which I went to before moving and then coming to Hogwarts! I transferred here during my fourth-year if I remembered correctly and was sorted into this house! Also if you know why I know your a transfer student, its because of how nervous you are. You need to relax before our classes come attacking us with homework!!!" Energetically his words came out of Damien's mouth with a zap of energy and were in a friendly and welcoming tone, as he knew what it was like transferring schools especially as a wizard.</s>	<\|message\|>MircusAshby The platform was crowded and Mircus and Nyra had to weave between the mass of families saying goodbye to their families. Their parents always sent him off alone, and they appeared to be treating Nyra no different. A small Kestrel Falcon jumped around in its cage as she didn't like being shook around, and it gave a loud screech to let her friend know she was unhappy. "I know Talon, but we'll have you on the train shortly." Once their luggage had been placed into the undercarriage the sixth-year student led his eleven-year-old sister onto the Express. They moved down the narrow path as Mircus checked for a place to sit. He found some long-time acquaintances sitting in one and gave the Cummings twins a smile and nod as he passed by. It looked as though they were in the middle of a serious discussion, and given what Tate had been through recently he understood and continued moving. Soon he came upon another Gryffindor. He poked his head in the doorway. "'Ey there, 'team captain'," he smirked. "Aye, I'd heard. I'm sure you'll do well, but good luck." He smiled at the fellow captain before squeezing past three first years. He finally found a small compartment already occupied by two others, but since there we no other available compartments he and his sister sat down. "You look nervous, sis. Don't be. No matter what House you get sorted into, you'll do fine. And I'll be there to protect ya' no matter what." She finally grinned up at her older brother. "But, honestly, I hope you get sorted to Hufflepuff. We are going to need a new Seeker this year." They had a makeshift quidditch match in their yard and practiced constantly. Nyra had always been great at catching the snitch. She had gotten the talent from their mother. ~*~ Mircus had been one of the first in the Great Hall. He loved seeing all the new faces and reconnecting with old friends. Suddenly a commotion arose behind him and he turned to find that the Gryffindors were carrying their new team captain to the table. An exchange between the girl and a Slytherin only hinted at the rivalry. "Hell, she can't do any worse than your captain, Slytherin," Mircus coaxed up, using the House name as he didn't know the loudmouth. "Ye haven't had the trophy in three years." Mircus had been made team captain three years ago when the previous captain had graduated and drove his team to break the Slytherin's win-streak. Then, the bane of his quidditch career, Thunder Graves, had begun focusing him. And since, he'd been unable to be as successful on the field. Putting the banter behind him he looked down the Hufflepuff table, finding a familiar and friendly face. "Damien!" He shouted, moving behind the Korean and placing his hands on his shoulders. "I've missed you all summer, mate. How've you been?" He looked down, spotting a new face. She was unfamiliar but looked as though she was in her later years. Must be another transfer, Mircus thought. "Who's your friend." Not long after, the sorting ceremony had begun and Mircus had taken a seat beside Damien and Bleu. His sister was around the tenth to be sorted. When she came up onto the dais Mircus smiled brightly and lifted a hand to her as she waved fervently at him. He waited, watching eagerly as the Hat spoke confidently to her. "Yes, you are a bright one, aren't you. Perhaps you belong to Ravenclaw. No, you're too nice for that, they'd eat you alive. Maybe you belong in Hufflepuff then, huh, with your brother. You'd like that, I can tell. But you would have no room to truly prove those talents you keep hidden away. Oh, yes, I know your secrets as I knew his. No, no, I know the spot for you..." Mircus leaned forward, anticipation at an ultimate high. "You belong in Gryffindor!" A sea of scarlet and gold rose, and Mircus along with it. "Wooh!" He shouted, clapping and whistling loudly as his baby sister made her way to her new home.</s>
<\|description\|>MircusAshby Birthday May 27, 2081 Age 17 Gender Male Sexuality Hetero Ethnicity Irish Blood Status Pure Blood Wand 12 1/4 " Rosewood with a Phoenix Feather core Familiar Appearance Mircus is 6'0 and has a toned, athletic build. His eyes are an emerald shade. He always wears is long brown hair in a messy fashion, although it takes quite a bit of work to make it look like he puts no work into it at all. Even when Mircus is wearing casual clothing he like to show his school pride by wearing some combination of black and yellow. Likes Irish Rock and Folk music\|Quidditch\|Kenmare Kestrels\|Magical Creatures\|Helping Others\|Being Carefree Dislikes Hurting Others\|Feeling Helpless\|Orangemen Year 6th Year House Hufflepuff Personality Mircus has always been a carefree person, even since he was a child. He would always run through the fields or fly around on his broomstick, exploring the land. He was also very loyal, to both his friends and family, coming to their aid whenever necessary. He was a kind-hearted person to everyone he met, until they had given him reason not to be. He could be very helpful to his allies and quite dangerous to his enemies. Place of Origin Dublin, Ireland History Growing up in a multi-generational pure blood family wasn't as demanding as most people would have you believe. At least, not for Mircus. His parents were a bit more liberal in terms of blood status and Hogwarts Housing. He was fortunate to not have the burden of such things placed on him at a young age. However, he did find conflict soon into his early teen years. His parents came to him, explaining the importance of knowing and practicing the Dark Arts. They believed that to be a true and powerful wizard one must be able to use every school of magic available to him, not restricting himself. It made sense to a young child's brain. However, soon after learning to practice Dark Arts in secret during the summers at home, his parents began teaching him of the Dark Lord. The most powerful wizard of all time. Lord Voldemort. When he began his term at Hogwarts he had already been taught of the greatness of Voldemort and brainwashed against the "lies" he would learn in school. But he was also taught about the importance of secrecy. Soon, though, Mircus began to slowly contemplate. He wondered, what if the books and histories were true. What if Voldemort truly was as evil as they said. What if he did do these horrendous things to people. Mircus would become internally divided, wanting to be a loyal son, but not wanting to worship someone who had done such horrid things. Other Mircus is a Chaser and Team Captain for House Hufflepuff, taking his team to the House Cup twice, but always falling short, due to their seeker's incompetence. He didn't like to blame anyone, but there was only so much that could be done. This year, however, the seeker had graduated, and it would be his job to find a new one. Being a lover of all creatures, Mircus excelled at Care of Magical Creatures. His favorite was the Hippogriff.</s> <\|message\|>BLEU DELACROIX \|BLEU DELACROIX\| Bleu nearly jumped out of her seat when a handsome Asian boy approached her, her hand slipping from where it gripped her forehead and her head, losing its support, nearly colliding with the table. "Huh?" She muttered blearily before she completely understood his words. Smiling easily, despite the tiredness in her eyes, she nodded, "Ah, yes." Bleu experienced a whiplash of sorts when he launched into talking, perhaps even creating an amazing monologue, but she didn't understand a thing. Her mind was moving too slow and his mouth moving too fast. Smiling and nodding, Bleu laid a gentle hand on his forearm and made a motion, her hand fluttering in an upwards motion as she took in a deep breath, "Breathe." She joked. Waiting for a beat of silence, Bleu then said, "Yes, I am a transfer student. I come from Beauxbatons. What is your name?" Almost as if the universe was against her receiving the aforementioned name, a man that looked as if he should be on the front cover of Vogue appeared and interrupted. However, he also happened to shout the Asian boy's name and Bleu smiled happily. Smiling brightly, Bleu reached out her hand to shake his and crowed, "Hi, I'm Bleu!" Luck has it, before anything could happen, they had to sit in their seats and watch the hat sorting. Bleu herself had been sorted over the summer, something about her fitting in? Bleu wasn't paying attention; she was staring out the window at the time. And like so, Bleu didn't pay much attention when the first years were sorted, but instead clapped when she saw everyone else clapping and cheering when she saw everybody else cheer. Headmistress Reynolds took the stage and Bleu had to prevent herself from scowling – she didn't quite like this headmistress with her brevity and shortness. Sometimes, Shakespeare, brevity is not the soul of wit. Sometimes it's just down-right annoying. Despite her thoughts, when the Headmistress finished, she clapped. "Should we go to our dorms now?" Bleu asked once she saw everyone getting up and did as well. She lingered, waiting for Damien and the mystery boy.</s> <\|message\|>Emmet O'Faollin Emmet O'Faollin Emmet sat at his table, moodily picking at his food. He wasn't hungry, even though he knew he should be. He ignored the other Slytherins and just sat there. He was lost in thought, thinking of how his foster sisters were doing in their houses. He knew he should go make sure Roselle was doing okay, but he just couldn't muster up the energy right now. He looked up in disinterest when Headmistress Reynolds stood up and started speaking, then jumped in surprise as Dawna leapt onto his lap with a soft meow. he smiled and picked her up, letting her drape her orange body around his shoulders. He stood up with the others, but went over to the Gryffindors and tapped Roselle on her head. She looked up and smiled. "Hey wolf, whatcha doin?" Emmet grinned. "what, I canna check on my little sis?"</s> <\|message\|>Damien Anderson Damien was grinning as he heard his friend, from the distance, "I've missed you all summer, mate. How've you been?" It was cute that Mircus remembered him over the summer, and he had missed him too. During the summer he was mostly separated from most of his wizardly friends as he had to work and when he had time, he spent it studying and practicing on spells. He didn't mind that the two were friends, as they were similar to each other yet not and besides they were from the same house anyways. The Irish was one cuter friends and he didn't mind being surrounded by attractive people at all, with more being the merrier. The only bad thing, was... he didn't swing that way and that serious put a damper on things. Despite that he made sure his gaze was never caught when he was checking him out or giving those jealous looks and was able to remain as good friends with him. It was amazing how he got away with some things, that he wondered why he wasn't secretly a Slytherin despite how much he hated them. He reverted his gaze from his friend looking at Bleu, as it was rude to ignore her but then there was Mircus as well... When Damien looking at Bleu looked slightly overwhelmed with the amount of words that he just shove at her face, he wouldn't expect her to catch all of it. He apparently did that a lot to everyone, and that was the best reason why he was a hatstall, the hat didn't know whether if Ravenclaw could survive my chatter and inquisitive nature or simply put me in Hufflepuff to save them the agony. He chuckled to himself silently as he remembered he gave the hat an partially annoying time, as he spoke to the hat nonstop for that five and a half minutes basically sealing my spot in this house. "Breathe." He heard Bleu said, and he grinned childishly. He gave a small laugh as he sometimes wondered if he even breathed at all, but for her sake he stopped for a moment. But he wouldn't spare her any details later, to make up for this... Then after recovering from his brigade she finally said her introductions... sort of? "Yes, I am a transfer student. I come from Beauxbatons. What is your name?" He sighed slightly at her words at first but understood, transferring schools was hard but with the assistance of the twins, him and several others he would make her year great... Wait! Cross out Tat, as his brother was the better prankster but besides that her year was going to be a busy one with him! "Gimme a second, here he comes! Come lemme introduce you to another Hufflepuff who is in the same year I believe! Wait... your a fifth year darn it... Never mind now lets go meet him!" "Who's your friend." Damien was beaten to his sentence but it had worked out perfectly in the end. Exchanging glances with Mircus before with Bleu and grinning mischievously, with arms extended he introduced the two with each other. "Mircus, this is Bleu who is transferring to our school from... Beauxbatons, I think thats what you said right? A real long name really but anyways, she also joining us in Hufflepuff as well! And then, Bleu this Mircus our team captain for quidditch. He's the one who scores basically... like scores, also know as the Chaser I believe, yes?! Then finally, there's Me! Damien, the social butterfly of death! Well, at least that's what I would be if I was one! So lets be nice to each other okay, I promise I wont bite, so you guys don't either, okay?" He said to them laughing slightly, before turning behind him. He was watching the sorting hat's decision for Mircus' sister right now, which he had taken a note of when he had came into the room with her. "Daaaaw, that sucks really. I hoped your sister would join us but I guess to Griffindor she goes! At least the Ravens or Snakes didn't get her, she too kind for either of those houses. At least she'll have some reliable people to watch over her right? At least she doesn't have to deal with Tatum, his twin is apparently the more civil one of the set." He had said when the Hat decided its choice for the young witch. He silently wondered why the hat choose to put her in Griffindor but couldn't argue unless he put it on again. Which wasn't going to be a nice experience for either of them and besides the Sorting Hat knew best... for the most part and he wouldn't oppose its decision for other students. "Should we go to our dorms now?" Bleu had said to the two, and he looked around him as everyone was standing up as well. Well... there goes the Head Mistress speech, or whatever it was down through the drain. He had heard it many times and doubt it was of any importance so placed it onto the back of his head disregarding it. Looking at Mircus and Bleu before he decided that he would like to get the first bed before either of the two or simply anyone else, which wasn't likely at this point he still didn't mind trying and abruptly got up as well. "Yes, yes we do! Now... 3, 2, 1, GO! Race ya guys!" He said childishly before jogging out to the Hufflepuff's dorms for them. Dodging some of the students and vanished out of the room slipping out easily with his lithe frame, leaving the two Hufflepuffs standing there... to talk and get to know each other if they wished.</s>	<\|message\|>MircusAshby Mircus couldn't help but to laugh at his friend. He was such a ball of energy and constantly going. It was amusing. He always seemed to be in a good mood when Damien was around. He especially enjoyed listening to him as he tried to explain who Mircus was to the transfer student. Damien then commented on his sister's sorting. "Aye, it'd have been nice to have her here, but 'least I know she'll be safe in Gryffindor. Wouldn't be able to say the same about the other houses," he lied. He knew his sister was more than capable of taking care of herself. She'd been raised just as he had. Finally, Damien announced a race back to the Hufflepuff basement. Mircus chuckled as he watched his friend disappear from the Great Hall before turning back to the new girl. "Bleu, was it," he said, knowing it was. "Come on, I'll show you to the common room. Just let me say something to my sis, real quick?" He gave her a smile before moving over to the Gryffindor table. The Prefect was gathering all the first years. "'Ey, Nyra," he called to her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he gave her a squeeze. "Congratulations. You're a Hogwarts student now." "Aye, thanks," the small blonde girl smiled up at him. "It feels weird, you know? Like a dream almost." Her brother chuckled. "Yeah, wait til classes start, you'll lose that feeling." He saw Demi nearby and recalled her promising to take care of her. Mircus motioned her over. "You see that lass there?" He said. "The pretty one?" Nyra asked, pointing back to Demi. "Aye," Mircus laughed. "Her. Well, she's an ole friend. If you have any questions about anything, just ask her. She'll help you out. And if you're nice, she might consider you for Quidditch try-outs next year." He looked back to Demi and thanked her under his breath before waving to the two of them. He returned to Bleu's side. "So, shall we?" he motioned to the door of the Great Hall. The Hufflepuff common room was in the basement of Hogwarts, and the entrance was just outside the Kitchen, so it was the closest to the Great Hall. Mircus led Bleu through the doors. "So, what's Beauxbaton's like? Any better or worse than Hogwarts, from what you've seen so far?" After a bit of chat he'd finally arrived to the barrels that covered the Hufflepuff entrance. "Third one over, right here," Mircus informed before tapping it with his wand. The barrel opened up and revealed a small stairwell leading down to the Commonroom. It was filled with chairs and tables, bookshelves and chandeliers. Windows sat in the high part of the far wall, letting the sunlight shine on earthy looking basement (or it would, if it were daylight outside). "Right, so girl's dorms are that way," he pointed to a pathway leading out of the room to the side. He turned and made his way to his own room. A familiar screech made his face light up. "Hey, Talon. Have you missed me, mate?" He opened the door on the small birds cage and let the Kestrel jump onto his hand. "I know, you want out. I'll let you off tomorrow, give ya a letter to take to mah and dah, eh?"</s>
<\|description\|>John Reynolds Age: 22 Gender: Male Height: 6'1 Eye Colours: Left is Brown, Right is like...Bluish Purple Gift: John can sense when other Gifted make use of their gifts, and can feel the intensity based on how far away he is compared to where the gift was used. For example: he can sense you the moment you use your ability, but he'll have to play the Hot/Cold game to find the spot where you used your gift. He can't actually track you(as in you, yourself, not your gift) unless your gift is constantly in use, or unless you're constantly using your gift. Bio: John grew up as a fairly normal kid, taking a great liking to video games and movies and books. He enjoyed watching and reading these fantasies, and wished he could be in one himself. But as time went on John realized what an impossible dream that might be, because he began to notice that he was just a nobody. There was nothing truly special about him, and aside from being slightly above average in school - he really didn't do anything else. No sports, no extracurricular activities, no nothing. Just your average Joe...or...John. That is, until his eighteenth birthday; where his right eye changed color and he began to sense these...things. He didn't know what he was feeling, but one day he got curious enough to follow one of these 'feelings', and he came up to a house just as the authorities arrived at the door. He took cover and watched as the house was raided and a girl was taken out...she had mismatched eye colors, just like him! What was happening?! Why did they want her? Was it cause her eyes were different?! John figured they might want to take him away too, and he wanted to run away from here before he was noticed...but...that girl...she needed help. She was struggling and resisting, then suddenly she looked at John and screamed to him for help. His mind seared with an intense sensation, and he recognized it as the 'feeling' he followed over here...but...wait...the men who were capturing her turned and saw him. He panicked and got up to run, but...no...the sensation filled his head...and he felt brave...he had to help, he had to try. John tried in vain, and was captured. The girl and him were taken and enslaved; John was trained and forced to work as a hunter to find more gifted, and to the best of John's knowledge...the girl was strapped into a chair, forced to incite bravery into the hunters in training. Other: He's a naturally good tinkerer, and can take apart, put together, or just modify weapons. ---</s> <\|message\|>Cole Harland A man sat in chair at the center of a room with a black bag over his head. The place seemed to be abandoned and the only light source was from the holes in the boarded up window. The rays of light illuminated the dust particles that floated around the dimly lit room. The bagged man was unconscious but soon awoke to darkness. As one would expect it caused him to become alarmed and he soon began to call out for help. His cries alerted a man outside the room to enter but his heavy footsteps did not comfort the bagged man. "Listen whoever you are just let me go! I won't tell anyone about this I swear to god just don't hurt me!", his pleading did nothing but have his captor remove the bag. His reaction was instantaneous horror, "NO NO NO NOT YOU OH GOD PLEASE NO!-" before he could finish his rambling Cole delivered a punch to the man's jaw. He quickly silenced himself as the pain prevented him from continuing to scream. "Are you done? Good, because it's my turn to talk", Cole took a step back and began to pace around his captive. His eyes locked on the man with a look of sheer hatred and scorn. "I know you've been following me...Terrance Crewe. I know you aren't a hunter and I know you aren't a bad person. I know you lost your family to a gifted and you've become this Gifted-Hunter. In truth I don't give a shit who you are or what you've been through. You are making my life very difficult. In truth I could have left the bag on you and dropped you off at a gas station or something but you'd still hunt my kind....however this is way is more enjoyable for me" "PLEASE NO NO NO N-", It was too late. Cole grabbed Terrance by the throat and within seconds life left his body. The blood vessels around his neck became black and he seemed to have been starved within seconds. His eyes were sunken in and his face looked as if it had seen the devil in his last moments. When it was over Cole felt an overwhelming sense of euphoria as he leaned against the wall of the room. "One less regular to worry about..", he said as he got off the wall. His business here was done, Cole left the body where it lay and exited the abandoned building. Outside waiting was his car which he quickly got into but before he turned the ignition a thought entered his head. "This is the second time a non-hunter has come after me. Maybe it's time I got backup..., he didn't think about it for long before he started up the car and sped away. He was heading for town, perhaps he'd find a like minded Gifted.</s> <\|message\|>Thomas Barnett Thomas was walking down the street with sunglasses on. He could make people stop noticing him, but he didn't want to risk any hunters knowing that he was using his power. He looked at shops where he could get some clothes, these ones were starting to get worn out, and then saw a cheap clothing store. Thomas walked into the store, and started browsing the clothes, and then heard someone behind him, who spoke in a gruff voice, "Excuse me," he said to Thomas. He turned round quickly, gasping, hoping it wasn't a hunter, "Yeah?" he asked, scared that they might attack him, "Do you know where the jeans are?" "Oh, yeah," Thomas said, relived that he wasn't a hunter, "There over there," he told him, pointing to a clothing rack, After a few minutes of browsing the clothes, Thomas decided that he wasn't going to get anything here, and stepped outside, the sun feeling warm on his pale skin, and he walked over to his car. He sat down in his car, and rested. He didn't have anywhere to live anymore, and he had been relegated to his car for months now. Thomas put some music on in his car, and hoped he could find someone like him.</s> <\|message\|>Nice "Mariane Louise" Morda "Uh, yeah I do," Nice answered. She covered one eye, appearing to try and rub something out of it. "It's over there," a Nice said, pointing. She then went back to reading, her face hidden once again. It was pesky that people were asking her questions, but at least no one would ever meet Nice. They would only meet Marianne. It was the perfect disguise.</s> <\|message\|>Miller Anderson Miller Anderson It's been over a little over a year after he left home in an attempt to get away from the Hunters, and he has observed the stubborn attitude of other 'Gifted' people like him, refuse to leave the place they called him, only to have the 'Hunters' move in and subjugate them. Only to leave the home with deadpan eyes, all light from those eyes have been drained away by something. He has watched it happen, and he has tried to tell them to leave so that they wouldn't get caught, some heeded his advice, leaving quickly, but the unfortunate others who ignored him had become Hunter fodder. He was deeply pondering these thoughts, as he was walking along the side of a stretched out road. The heat was getting to him, he had already finished his last bottle of water he packed from an earlier town visit, 20 minutes ago. He was going to pass out sooner or later, and he knew it. "I really should've packed more water, haaah." he said to his deteriorating self. A building was clearing in the distance, he thought it was a trick of the eye but as he got closer, the building only increased in size. "Fuck yes, lucky, now how much money do I have on me?" he asked out-loud, not really expecting an answer. He began to walk towards the gas station, before entering, he put on his sunglasses. Opening the door, a ring came which signified the owner if there was a customer, a burly man stared at him and uttered a nonchalant 'Welcome'. Not really caring right now, he immediately walked towards the water section and grabbed himself 5 bottles, all costing 1.50 dollars "Cheh, whats with these overpriced water bottles" he said to himself again. Bringing the water bottles to the counter, it totaled to 7.50 dollars, grumbling he fished out a 10 dollar bill out of his bag and handed it to the clerk. "You know, your prices are really expensive." he said to the clerk, with him just shrugging back and in his burly voice, saying "Well it's all the way out here, deal with it." Being handed the 2.50 dollars, he pocketed them and went outside, sat down on a sidestep and greedily drank one of the bottles down.</s> <\|message\|>Cole Harland Cole hadn't been driving long when his car signalled that it was low on gas. "Son of a-", it wasn't a matter of money that angered him because he had a good amount. What bothered him was that he had to watch his expenses at all. "These regulars have it so easy they don't even know it", he thought as he pulled into a gas station. The regulars think because we have gifts makes us all killers, Cole knew he was a killer but that was only because he was protecting himself. Gifted are hunted down, sometimes killed by their own family. Why? Because one day they woke up with a different color eye. He knew other gifted, some of them didn't even have dangerous powers. If anything the hunters should be coming after him and gifted who could kill. Not that he was going to let them however. His life was his own, he was human just like them..he still is human. Until the regulars learned to deal with us properly the gifted would continue to run, hide, and kill if necessary. Hunters were mot the answer. Cole was brought back to reality and the task at hand. He hooked up the pump to the car and waited for it to fill. Only a few minutes after he did so was the gas tank full and the pump sounded with a ding. "They still have the ding at the pump? Damn this place is older than I thought", he said to himself before looking at the price. "Alright let's check the vault..", he said as he walked over to the trunk of the car. Upon opening it there was a duffel bag filled with cash. Over the years he'd done some...not so legal jobs with less than friendly company. Sometimes it required him to use his gifts but he needed the cash and in the end it just made him stronger for what he needed to face in the future. Cole grabbed the required amount of cash and headed towards the inside of the gas station. Exiting was a man with a good amount of water bottles in his hand. The way the guy chugged down a bottle told Cole it had been a long time since he last had a good thing going for him. He could be a gifted on the run or another homeless bum. Either way there was no certain at to tell without bringing unwanted attention to themselves. Too bad, if he was a gifted Cole would have helped him out. Fortunately Cole did not see the dog shit he was about to step on until the last second, he managed to move his foot out of the way but it caused him to lose balance a little and he his leg brushed against the guy with the water. Suddenly he could feel that he was no longer alone with his thoughts. This guy was gifted after all,"Wait in the car.." he said to water boy quietly before heading into the store to pay. "Looks like I'll have some company for bit"</s>	<\|message\|>John Reynolds John chuckled to himself quietly, and eyed the girl curiously. He stood there for a moment, crossing his arms as he looked around to make sure nobody was within earshot. It was clear, for the moment...corners had their advantages, it seemed. "I know who you are." He said, pulling a chair over so he could sit down. He then gestured at his bandages eye. "You and I...we're of a kind, you know?" John continued, sitting back in his chair. "For example...we both enjoy books. And we both have a secret. We've both been oppressed. The government has always favored those with money, and the powers belonging to the people are being taken away..." By now, John was trying to send this girl a message by emphasizing words in what might sound like idle chatter. You could tell he wasn't the best at this kind of communication, as the topics he discussed didn't exactly have the smoothest transitions. "The government has all the power now...and they don't want anyone else to have any. The government says that they know what's best. We've little choice but to agree and do as we're told." John leaned forward, and continued to speak more softly. "So that's why the government watches over us and protects us like they do. It's a dangerous world out there, and it's getting worse. I'm just glad I found you before any of those other freaks did...you never know who might be watching you..." John finished, and leaned back in the chair again. He hoped that the girl was smart enough to understand what he meant, so that he might get her to leave the library. John didn't want to have to hurt her, but his master wanted another body...and John was running out of time. Maybe if she had some gifted friends? He thought, as he wanted to make a point of only capturing those that were gifted with more...dangerous gifts. Nah...we...no...THEY...usually hide alone. But...I could never hurt someone like her...but...I'm also running out of time...</s>
<\|description\|>John Reynolds Age: 22 Gender: Male Height: 6'1 Eye Colours: Left is Brown, Right is like...Bluish Purple Gift: John can sense when other Gifted make use of their gifts, and can feel the intensity based on how far away he is compared to where the gift was used. For example: he can sense you the moment you use your ability, but he'll have to play the Hot/Cold game to find the spot where you used your gift. He can't actually track you(as in you, yourself, not your gift) unless your gift is constantly in use, or unless you're constantly using your gift. Bio: John grew up as a fairly normal kid, taking a great liking to video games and movies and books. He enjoyed watching and reading these fantasies, and wished he could be in one himself. But as time went on John realized what an impossible dream that might be, because he began to notice that he was just a nobody. There was nothing truly special about him, and aside from being slightly above average in school - he really didn't do anything else. No sports, no extracurricular activities, no nothing. Just your average Joe...or...John. That is, until his eighteenth birthday; where his right eye changed color and he began to sense these...things. He didn't know what he was feeling, but one day he got curious enough to follow one of these 'feelings', and he came up to a house just as the authorities arrived at the door. He took cover and watched as the house was raided and a girl was taken out...she had mismatched eye colors, just like him! What was happening?! Why did they want her? Was it cause her eyes were different?! John figured they might want to take him away too, and he wanted to run away from here before he was noticed...but...that girl...she needed help. She was struggling and resisting, then suddenly she looked at John and screamed to him for help. His mind seared with an intense sensation, and he recognized it as the 'feeling' he followed over here...but...wait...the men who were capturing her turned and saw him. He panicked and got up to run, but...no...the sensation filled his head...and he felt brave...he had to help, he had to try. John tried in vain, and was captured. The girl and him were taken and enslaved; John was trained and forced to work as a hunter to find more gifted, and to the best of John's knowledge...the girl was strapped into a chair, forced to incite bravery into the hunters in training. Other: He's a naturally good tinkerer, and can take apart, put together, or just modify weapons. ---</s> <\|message\|>Chris Jackson A monster. Betrayed, hunted, squeezing red ragged rips, running, can't kill it can't kill it can't kill it. The fear cracked into Chris's mind like a lightning bolt. Something was very, very wrong nearby. That was when he turned to see the bandaged man (now sans-bandage) sprinting towards him. On his tail was someone or something else, a woman in a red and black bodysuit, a collar around her neck. Another Gifted, he thought. One they'd made a slave of. "Go! Gogogogogo! NOW! Run! There's a fucking MONSTER after me!" "GET BACK HERE SO I CAN RIP YOU APART!" Now it was starting to make sense. The bandaged man was a hunter, or worked for hunters, and he'd known this thing was coming, or maybe he hadn't but he'd known something, and he knew that Chris and the girl were in danger. That's why he did what he did, but now he was in danger. The monster had hurt him, that much was clear from his pain and the dripping red holes in his arms. It would kill him if it could, and then the girl, and then Chris, and maybe other people too. Innocent people. All of these thoughts flashed through Chris's mind in the fraction of an instant it took the man's frantic pace to reach his position. Fortunately, his next action required no thought. None at all. With one hand he flung the scarf and glasses from his face and dropped them to the ground, along with his bag and guitar case. He took off running, running towards the monster, and slammed his shoulder into it from the side. "Go! Run! Get out of here, get away from the library, there are people in there!"</s> <\|message\|>Lucky Newman Lucky Newman Lucky smirked hearing where Thomas was from, though he was right about the putting on the accent that area. It was easier to get people to talk to people if you sounded like them. Though it was hard to fit in now, being Gifted stopped all chances of being normal and interacting with others. Though it was nice to be able to talk to someone like yourself, so talking to Thomas was nice. He didn't feel so alone but at the same time he was waiting for the knife in the back. It was a constant struggle in his head, he wanted to trust but the past betrayal was hard to get over. So simply put, he was on the fence about trusting. "I'm from Prince Edward Island, Canada." He said before chuckling softly before continuing, "If you heard my natural accent you would think I was someone fresh off the boat from Ireland or Scotland." He said with a smile remembering how heavy his accent was when he first was on the run, people thought he was from the old country. But he needed to blend in, that was when he met Siri.... He quickly shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts. He looked out the door of the old rail car when he noticed movement. "Be ready to make yourself unnoticeable Tom." He said lowly as he continued to look out for danger. As he watched a girl suddenly popped up from behind some old train parts, "Hi...I'm Lilith." The girl said with a slight smile on her lips. Lucky locked his eyes on her and stood still for a moment before jumping down from the old rail car. He could see that she was Gifted by her Jade and Maroon eyes, though he was going to be careful like he was with Thomas. He made his body rigid as he watched Lilith for a moment, he had to wonder if she was hunter. But as he watched her he noticed that her hair was wind blown and that she was slightly dirty, so she was mostly likely not a hunter as hunters were usually clean. "I'm Lucky." He said with a slight tension in voice but he didn't sound as threatening as he did with Thomas earlier. "You thirsty or hungry?" He asked though he was still weary of the new comer. He was glad to see another Gifted, but he was realizing that he was rusty in his communication skills. Damn you Siri! He thought as he held an arm out ushering Lilith to the old rail car that would give them some cover, for now at least. Maybe they could plan what to do next or in the very least get to know each other. But Lucky was waiting for the ax to drop and his luck run out.</s> <\|message\|>Cole Harland After exiting The Suite, Cole sat in the driver's seat of his car. This time there was music, only silence as he sat there trying to decide whether he was doing the right thing. Last time he tried something like this...it didn't end well. It seemed as though being around Cole was bad for people's health. The more he thought about it the more the memories of those he'd lost came back to him. It got to a point where it was too much and Cole punched the car stereo causing the display to crack and the dial to pop out again. Cole sighed as he sat back in his seat. "..What are you doing?". There was a silence as he rubbed his forehead, the pain in his knuckles had begun to fade but was still throbbing somewhat. That was when it happened, all those memories of his old friends came once again but this time instead of agony Cole felt a growing rage which added to the already existing pool of anger he had within him. The Hunters would pay for what they did to his friends, what they do to all Gifted. Starting now his crusade would begin, and those two down in The Suite would be the first out of many other gifted he'd recruit to exact revenge on those who oppressed his kin. "I don't usually let you out...but I cam tell it won't matter soon", of course Cole wasn't talking to himself. Technically he was but now it was a different being all together. Exiting the car Cole went to the back and opened up the trunk, inside was the same dufflebag from the gas station but instead of opening it he took it out with him along with one other bag which was for clothes. Once he was back inside The Suite he laid his clothes bag on hos bed and laid the duffle bag on the living room coffee table. Opening it revealed that it's contents were more than just money, inside were two Remington Colt 1911 R1 pistols and a G36C Assault Rifle. Cole laid the 1911s on the table but took the G36C with him to his room. Once inside the room he placed his rifle by the nightstand and headed back into the living room. He sat on the couch and turned on the tv.</s> <\|message\|>Lilith B. Smith Lilith looked at Lucky, her eyes widening. The offer of food and water made her lip quiver. The offer of shelter and company made her want to cry. She was so desperate for a place to stay, for people she could actually become friends with. So Lilith approached the train car without a second thought, she stood only a couple of steps away from Lucky now. If Lucky looked close enough, he would realize that Lilith's eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, her hair was disheveled, and her body was cleansed roughly, as though she had very little time to get clean. "T-thank you. That's very generous. I think I'll take you up on that offer." She understood this was generosity, and that he was offering it because she was desperate. Still though, she managed a bold smile, and reached out her hand. "What's your gift? We might as well exchange them, since we're going to be sitting in a train car for who knows how long." Her voice was a bis stronger although it was rough as if it hadn't been used often. She offered a hand to Lucky, and then peered around him, at the other stranger. She pressed her lips together and frowned. "Um hi to you too. How are you?" She asked, glancing between Lucky and the man who hadn't spoken yet.</s>	<\|message\|>John Reynolds Valkyr took the hit from Chris and fell, but as soon as she hit the ground she was getting back up. She screamed at him and prepared to charge, but John tackled her back to the ground and shocked her with his batons. By now, people were screaming and running away from the library in panic. Valkyr kicked John off of her and sent him flying into Nice, resulting in a cracking-thud sort of sound. John moved slightly but didn't get up, one of his shock batons had fallen near Chris while the other was in the pile with him and Nice. Valkyr had gotten to her feet and grabbed a man who came out of the library, swinging him around to slam his face into the wall. The man was killed instantly as his skull fractured on impact, and then his lifeless body proceeded to be thrown at Chris by a screaming Valkyr.</s>
<\|description\|>John Reynolds Age: 22 Gender: Male Height: 6'1 Eye Colours: Left is Brown, Right is like...Bluish Purple Gift: John can sense when other Gifted make use of their gifts, and can feel the intensity based on how far away he is compared to where the gift was used. For example: he can sense you the moment you use your ability, but he'll have to play the Hot/Cold game to find the spot where you used your gift. He can't actually track you(as in you, yourself, not your gift) unless your gift is constantly in use, or unless you're constantly using your gift. Bio: John grew up as a fairly normal kid, taking a great liking to video games and movies and books. He enjoyed watching and reading these fantasies, and wished he could be in one himself. But as time went on John realized what an impossible dream that might be, because he began to notice that he was just a nobody. There was nothing truly special about him, and aside from being slightly above average in school - he really didn't do anything else. No sports, no extracurricular activities, no nothing. Just your average Joe...or...John. That is, until his eighteenth birthday; where his right eye changed color and he began to sense these...things. He didn't know what he was feeling, but one day he got curious enough to follow one of these 'feelings', and he came up to a house just as the authorities arrived at the door. He took cover and watched as the house was raided and a girl was taken out...she had mismatched eye colors, just like him! What was happening?! Why did they want her? Was it cause her eyes were different?! John figured they might want to take him away too, and he wanted to run away from here before he was noticed...but...that girl...she needed help. She was struggling and resisting, then suddenly she looked at John and screamed to him for help. His mind seared with an intense sensation, and he recognized it as the 'feeling' he followed over here...but...wait...the men who were capturing her turned and saw him. He panicked and got up to run, but...no...the sensation filled his head...and he felt brave...he had to help, he had to try. John tried in vain, and was captured. The girl and him were taken and enslaved; John was trained and forced to work as a hunter to find more gifted, and to the best of John's knowledge...the girl was strapped into a chair, forced to incite bravery into the hunters in training. Other: He's a naturally good tinkerer, and can take apart, put together, or just modify weapons. ---</s> <\|message\|>John Reynolds Blurred images of people running, muffled screams filling the air...the faint humming of a helicopter getting louder...getting closer. Looking back down at the ground...is that blood? Is that...my blood? John thought, a headache setting in as he moved to put his hands on the ground to push himself up. Suddenly an immense pain shot up his left arm, and John rolled onto his back and looked at his arm to see that it was broken. He slowly lifted himself up into a sitting position with one hand, looking over at the body of Nice. Blood had been pooling up beneath her, seeming to be pouring from her head. Oh shit...I hit her when I was thrown...her skull must have fractured when it hit the concrete. John thought as he stared at Nice's face in the puddle of blood...she almost looked asleep. John was soon snapped out of his trance when he heard and saw one of his shock batons hit the ground beside him, accompanied by Chris' rallying words. "Get up, John! You can still save them!" John offered no reply, and simply spat out blood before slowly rising to his feet. He took hold of his broken arm and shifted it back into place as best he could, grunting through his clenched teeth. A news helicopter had arrived on scene, which was doing a decent job of distracting Valkyr as she screamed up into the air. John picked up the shock baton that Chris had tossed at him, and put it away in his coat before picking up the other baton by Nice's body. "We've got to go...n-now! We won't be...a-any help...t-to these people if...if we're d-dead. We've got to...r-run...l-lead her away..." John tried to tell Chris as quickly as he could, before Valkyr could focus her attention back on the two of them. By now, this event was broadcasting live by the news helicopter, and sirens could be heard in the distance. John looked down the street and back at Chris. Valkyr then heard the sirens herself and snapped her head around to look dead at Chris and John. She growled menacingly as another set of vials raised out of the back of her suit, injecting the liquids they held into her body once more. "F-Fucking hell! W-We...n-need to go...N-NOW!" John shouted as he turned to run away, holding his broken arm with his good arm almost as if he was carrying a football. Once Valkyr's fresh set of vials had been ejected and fell to the ground, she released a bloodcurdling shriek. Whatever humanity she still had was now completely gone from her, as she continued to growl like she was some wolf defending her claim over a fresh kill.</s> <\|message\|>Chris Jackson Chris saw the remains of the girl's body a moment after John. She looked peaceful, pleased almost - a thin smile tugged at the corners of her still lips. He wondered, idly, what she had been feeling when he died, if she had been afraid, or sad, or if she had suffered long. He wasn't accustomed to not knowing, and now it seemed like he'd never have cause to be. For a moment, Chris glanced between the news chopper, the monster, and the girl's dead body on the ground. "...Right. Run. Run sounds good." Squinting from the helicopter's lights, Chris took off down the street, trusting that John would be following behind. "Follow me, I know a place where we can hide!" Without turning to see if the hunter had obeyed his directions, Chris turned into an alleyway. The place he had in mind wasn't far, but the path was long and twisting - with any luck, they'd lose the monster in the turns. And, failing that, at least the place was always empty - if he and the hunter couldn't shake their pursuers, at least nobody else would die.</s> <\|message\|>Miller Anderson Miller Anderson Becoming wide eyed and awed at the immense place at what he thought would be a dump, he whistles then says, "Wow, you really struck it big, this place is sweet. with a grin, he quickly set off to explore the area, he set off right before Cole could explain the area but Miller was enthralled by the place and quickly found one of the bedrooms. Placing his backpack down, and just admiring the place, he quickly took a change of clothes since his old ones were sweaty. Putting on his new clothes, he left the bedroom and looked around. He still couldn't believe the size of this suite, the Bathroom was nice, the Kitchen was huge, but what took him by surprise was the living room, it was sweet. Stumbling upon the Pool, on impulse he decided that he'd want to take a quick dip, removing his clothes to reveal hard rock abs... No who am I kidding he doesn't have any. Running back to his room, he luckily had boxers that were fit for swimming and he changed again and ran back to the pool and jumped it, yelling "CANNONBALL!"</s> <\|message\|>Cole Harland Cole had finished his last drink, the fourth, and was now sitting in the kitchen trying to determine his next course of action. Of course while this was going on he heard Miller yell, ""CANNONBALL!" from downstairs. That triggered a memory of Cole's last time here. What was happening now was almost exactly like last time. The only difference was Cole wasn't drinking the first time. Well at least not for the same reason. His memory reminded him of the youngest in the group, Alex. Alex was a lot like Miller, the only difference was that Alex knew when to shut up. Still so far Miller has proven to be an alright guy. His last group even had someone like Naddy...no, no one was like Josie. Cole tried hard to forget the memory of her. It was too painful to revisit, not after what happened. Cole got up from his seat in the kitchen and headed downstairs. Once he was near the pool Cole didn't wait for Miller's undivided attention he simply yelled, "Hurry up, we got a meeting in the living room real soon!". Cole headed back upstairs and sat back on the couch. He didn't waste time and immediately handed Naddy one of the 1911s. "Just incase", was all he said before grabbing the remote and turning the tv to the news. What he saw wasn't good news. There was...something terrorizing the nearby town. What it was exactly Cole had no clue but it wasn't the first time he saw something like this. The Hunters had used gifted before in strange experiments but it was the first time he'd seen one actually completed. From the looks of it that thing was pursuing Gifted no doubt. The problem was what course of action should be taken. Cole wanted to help as many Gifted as he could but that thing...was there even stopping that thing?</s> <\|message\|>Natalia "Naddy" Neapein Naddy looked over to Miller as he seemed quite excited. She was more excited by the prospect of having a comfortable bed at this moment. Getting up she removed her coat, her tank top showing all the tattoos down her arms, as well as the ones on her lower back and even comingup the the back of her neck. She fallowed Cole over to the kitchen and opened a cupboard pulling out a glass as she moved the fridge getting some ice. After that she moved over looking and finding the Bourbon. Pouring her self a glass she lifted it up to her mouth and took a sip of it. Smiling she felt that golden brown liquid flowing down her throat with that little tickle of a burn. "Now that is refreshing" She set down her glass sighing as she was able to relax for the first time in what seemed like months. She closed her eyes as she was taking sips of her drink. As she stood there a handgun was handed out to her her. With out even looking she grabbed it, dropping the clip she pulled the slide back and looked forward raising it up as she pulled the trigger. It clicked but since there were now rounds that was all it did as the slide locked back. "Nice, smooth action, quick response. You take care of your guns, the hammer is a little slow on the response." She released the slide lock as it slid forward and she pushed that magazine back up into it's home as she reached back pushing it into the back of her pants. "A holster would be nice" She added grabbing her coat and her drink heading into the living room after hearing cole talking about a meeting. She draped her coat over the back of the couch as she sat down leaning back into the nook of it and took another sip of her drink.</s>	<\|message\|>John Reynolds John followed Chris as the two made their escape, running into the alleyway as the sirens got louder. You could hear the screech of tires, followed closely by the opening and slamming of car doors. There was a moment of shouting, accompanied by the whirring blades of the orbiting news helicopter. A ferocious scream then broke through the air as if the shouting of men and the whirring of the helicopter had only been little more than crickets chirping, capable of belonging to no one other than Valkyr herself. John slowed down and turned to look behind him as Valkyr pounced on an officer, beating his head into the pavement as a shock baton rolled out of his now lifeless hand. The other authorities reached for their sidearms, but Valkyr had already taken the one from the officer she had just killed and began to fire on the other men. Twelve gunshot rapidly rang through the air as four men fell to the ground, dead. The surviving officers took cover being the cars they had arrived in, and Valkyr began to look around frantically. She was doing something...she had an objective...but what? She growled almost as if out of pain, struggling to remember the man with the two shock batons. That was it! She was after him...but where did he go? Valkyr then looked down the alley way and saw a blur of movement disappear around the corner, taking it as a sign of her prey she then bolted off down the alley while the officers began to open fire on her from behind. Meanwhile, John had returned to running after Chris as fast as he could, grunting with every other step as he felt a throbbing pain in his broken arm.</s>
<\|description\|>Chris Jackson Age: 22 Gender: Male Height: 5' 10" Eye Colors: Brown and Yellow Gift: Anyone in Chris's presence (within about six feet) feels a sharp sense of discomfort and a desire to get away from him (this doesn't apply if there's a barrier between the two). Anyone who looks at his face immediately gets a headache that gets more and more painful the longer the gaze is held. Additionally, he has a subconscious sense of other people's unhappiness – he can tell what's hurting them, and gets a vague idea of how to help. Bio: Chris was a normal boy in a normal town. His whole life, he'd always been something of a boyscout – he was down-to-earth, gentle, hardworking, and kind. He hated conflict, always tried to be a leader, and did his best to see the good in everyone. Though he may not have been the brightest bulb, he certainly had prospects; on his eighteenth birthday, he was just a few months away from heading off to college and beginning the next stage of his life. Naturally, that all changed when he woke up that morning with one yellow eye. Suddenly, nobody could stand him – not his friends, not his presence, not his community. People looked at the ceiling, or the floor, never at him, and all fled from him before long. But that wasn't all. He found that he could sense other people's hurts – their aches and fears, things they'd loved and lost. Not only that, but he found he could help them. Sometimes, he knew exactly what to say, or where to look, or what to give to lessen someone's unhappiness. Of course, as he stayed in his home town, the source of people's unhappiness more and more frequently was pointed at a single target: him. He knew exactly what he had to do to help, and he did it: he left without saying goodbye. For four years since then, he has traveled aimlessly, helping where he could, keeping away and out of sight as best as he was able, and avoiding those who would hunt him as long as he can. Other: Yes, the concept of the character is somewhat based on Cole from Dragon Age. It's also worth noting that he doesn't know if the headaches he causes are potentially lethal (they are, but only after a good while of staring).</s> <\|message\|>Chris Jackson A monster. Betrayed, hunted, squeezing red ragged rips, running, can't kill it can't kill it can't kill it. The fear cracked into Chris's mind like a lightning bolt. Something was very, very wrong nearby. That was when he turned to see the bandaged man (now sans-bandage) sprinting towards him. On his tail was someone or something else, a woman in a red and black bodysuit, a collar around her neck. Another Gifted, he thought. One they'd made a slave of. "Go! Gogogogogo! NOW! Run! There's a fucking MONSTER after me!" "GET BACK HERE SO I CAN RIP YOU APART!" Now it was starting to make sense. The bandaged man was a hunter, or worked for hunters, and he'd known this thing was coming, or maybe he hadn't but he'd known something, and he knew that Chris and the girl were in danger. That's why he did what he did, but now he was in danger. The monster had hurt him, that much was clear from his pain and the dripping red holes in his arms. It would kill him if it could, and then the girl, and then Chris, and maybe other people too. Innocent people. All of these thoughts flashed through Chris's mind in the fraction of an instant it took the man's frantic pace to reach his position. Fortunately, his next action required no thought. None at all. With one hand he flung the scarf and glasses from his face and dropped them to the ground, along with his bag and guitar case. He took off running, running towards the monster, and slammed his shoulder into it from the side. "Go! Run! Get out of here, get away from the library, there are people in there!"</s> <\|message\|>Lucky Newman Lucky Newman Lucky smirked hearing where Thomas was from, though he was right about the putting on the accent that area. It was easier to get people to talk to people if you sounded like them. Though it was hard to fit in now, being Gifted stopped all chances of being normal and interacting with others. Though it was nice to be able to talk to someone like yourself, so talking to Thomas was nice. He didn't feel so alone but at the same time he was waiting for the knife in the back. It was a constant struggle in his head, he wanted to trust but the past betrayal was hard to get over. So simply put, he was on the fence about trusting. "I'm from Prince Edward Island, Canada." He said before chuckling softly before continuing, "If you heard my natural accent you would think I was someone fresh off the boat from Ireland or Scotland." He said with a smile remembering how heavy his accent was when he first was on the run, people thought he was from the old country. But he needed to blend in, that was when he met Siri.... He quickly shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts. He looked out the door of the old rail car when he noticed movement. "Be ready to make yourself unnoticeable Tom." He said lowly as he continued to look out for danger. As he watched a girl suddenly popped up from behind some old train parts, "Hi...I'm Lilith." The girl said with a slight smile on her lips. Lucky locked his eyes on her and stood still for a moment before jumping down from the old rail car. He could see that she was Gifted by her Jade and Maroon eyes, though he was going to be careful like he was with Thomas. He made his body rigid as he watched Lilith for a moment, he had to wonder if she was hunter. But as he watched her he noticed that her hair was wind blown and that she was slightly dirty, so she was mostly likely not a hunter as hunters were usually clean. "I'm Lucky." He said with a slight tension in voice but he didn't sound as threatening as he did with Thomas earlier. "You thirsty or hungry?" He asked though he was still weary of the new comer. He was glad to see another Gifted, but he was realizing that he was rusty in his communication skills. Damn you Siri! He thought as he held an arm out ushering Lilith to the old rail car that would give them some cover, for now at least. Maybe they could plan what to do next or in the very least get to know each other. But Lucky was waiting for the ax to drop and his luck run out.</s> <\|message\|>Cole Harland After exiting The Suite, Cole sat in the driver's seat of his car. This time there was music, only silence as he sat there trying to decide whether he was doing the right thing. Last time he tried something like this...it didn't end well. It seemed as though being around Cole was bad for people's health. The more he thought about it the more the memories of those he'd lost came back to him. It got to a point where it was too much and Cole punched the car stereo causing the display to crack and the dial to pop out again. Cole sighed as he sat back in his seat. "..What are you doing?". There was a silence as he rubbed his forehead, the pain in his knuckles had begun to fade but was still throbbing somewhat. That was when it happened, all those memories of his old friends came once again but this time instead of agony Cole felt a growing rage which added to the already existing pool of anger he had within him. The Hunters would pay for what they did to his friends, what they do to all Gifted. Starting now his crusade would begin, and those two down in The Suite would be the first out of many other gifted he'd recruit to exact revenge on those who oppressed his kin. "I don't usually let you out...but I cam tell it won't matter soon", of course Cole wasn't talking to himself. Technically he was but now it was a different being all together. Exiting the car Cole went to the back and opened up the trunk, inside was the same dufflebag from the gas station but instead of opening it he took it out with him along with one other bag which was for clothes. Once he was back inside The Suite he laid his clothes bag on hos bed and laid the duffle bag on the living room coffee table. Opening it revealed that it's contents were more than just money, inside were two Remington Colt 1911 R1 pistols and a G36C Assault Rifle. Cole laid the 1911s on the table but took the G36C with him to his room. Once inside the room he placed his rifle by the nightstand and headed back into the living room. He sat on the couch and turned on the tv.</s> <\|message\|>Lilith B. Smith Lilith looked at Lucky, her eyes widening. The offer of food and water made her lip quiver. The offer of shelter and company made her want to cry. She was so desperate for a place to stay, for people she could actually become friends with. So Lilith approached the train car without a second thought, she stood only a couple of steps away from Lucky now. If Lucky looked close enough, he would realize that Lilith's eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, her hair was disheveled, and her body was cleansed roughly, as though she had very little time to get clean. "T-thank you. That's very generous. I think I'll take you up on that offer." She understood this was generosity, and that he was offering it because she was desperate. Still though, she managed a bold smile, and reached out her hand. "What's your gift? We might as well exchange them, since we're going to be sitting in a train car for who knows how long." Her voice was a bis stronger although it was rough as if it hadn't been used often. She offered a hand to Lucky, and then peered around him, at the other stranger. She pressed her lips together and frowned. "Um hi to you too. How are you?" She asked, glancing between Lucky and the man who hadn't spoken yet.</s> <\|message\|>John Reynolds Valkyr took the hit from Chris and fell, but as soon as she hit the ground she was getting back up. She screamed at him and prepared to charge, but John tackled her back to the ground and shocked her with his batons. By now, people were screaming and running away from the library in panic. Valkyr kicked John off of her and sent him flying into Nice, resulting in a cracking-thud sort of sound. John moved slightly but didn't get up, one of his shock batons had fallen near Chris while the other was in the pile with him and Nice. Valkyr had gotten to her feet and grabbed a man who came out of the library, swinging him around to slam his face into the wall. The man was killed instantly as his skull fractured on impact, and then his lifeless body proceeded to be thrown at Chris by a screaming Valkyr.</s>	<\|message\|>Chris Jackson What is that thing, it's got me, it's got me, hurts- The dead man's pain was flung at Chris just as surely as his corpse was, and of the two was probably the more agonizing. A person's dying pain had always hit especially hard - his knees were buckling even before the body crashed into him, sending him sprawling to the ground, the hunter's and the victim's pain mingling with his own. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. One innocent was dead already, and it looked like more would follow, judging by the crowd of people spilling out of the library to catch a glimpse of the tumult. The hunter was still on the floor, in a heap with the girl with the closed-off mind. The monster was roaring now, frothing with rage. Something metal rolled against Chris's foot - one of the hunter's batons. He rose to his feet, a hand closed around the weapon. He couldn't fight the monster, that much was certain, but maybe someone could fend it off long enough to get the people away. What happened to him after that didn't matter. A sentence flashed into his mind as he tossed the weapon to the hunter. He hadn't been around the man long enough to be certain it was the sentence he needed, but if ever there was a time for a shot in the dark, this was it. "Get up, John! You can still save them!" With that done, he whipped around, baring his face at the crowd of humans and advancing on them quickly, waving his hands. Confusion at the scene unfolding turned into dread, horror, and nausea. People stumbled back, their hands over their eyes. There were screams of revulsion, fear, as he drew closer and closer to the crowd. "Run!" He screamed. "Leave!" They complied. With one mind, the crowd of humans turned and fled from him, fled back to the library, back inside, where they would be safe.</s>
<\|description\|>Chris Jackson Age: 22 Gender: Male Height: 5' 10" Eye Colors: Brown and Yellow Gift: Anyone in Chris's presence (within about six feet) feels a sharp sense of discomfort and a desire to get away from him (this doesn't apply if there's a barrier between the two). Anyone who looks at his face immediately gets a headache that gets more and more painful the longer the gaze is held. Additionally, he has a subconscious sense of other people's unhappiness – he can tell what's hurting them, and gets a vague idea of how to help. Bio: Chris was a normal boy in a normal town. His whole life, he'd always been something of a boyscout – he was down-to-earth, gentle, hardworking, and kind. He hated conflict, always tried to be a leader, and did his best to see the good in everyone. Though he may not have been the brightest bulb, he certainly had prospects; on his eighteenth birthday, he was just a few months away from heading off to college and beginning the next stage of his life. Naturally, that all changed when he woke up that morning with one yellow eye. Suddenly, nobody could stand him – not his friends, not his presence, not his community. People looked at the ceiling, or the floor, never at him, and all fled from him before long. But that wasn't all. He found that he could sense other people's hurts – their aches and fears, things they'd loved and lost. Not only that, but he found he could help them. Sometimes, he knew exactly what to say, or where to look, or what to give to lessen someone's unhappiness. Of course, as he stayed in his home town, the source of people's unhappiness more and more frequently was pointed at a single target: him. He knew exactly what he had to do to help, and he did it: he left without saying goodbye. For four years since then, he has traveled aimlessly, helping where he could, keeping away and out of sight as best as he was able, and avoiding those who would hunt him as long as he can. Other: Yes, the concept of the character is somewhat based on Cole from Dragon Age. It's also worth noting that he doesn't know if the headaches he causes are potentially lethal (they are, but only after a good while of staring).</s> <\|message\|>John Reynolds Blurred images of people running, muffled screams filling the air...the faint humming of a helicopter getting louder...getting closer. Looking back down at the ground...is that blood? Is that...my blood? John thought, a headache setting in as he moved to put his hands on the ground to push himself up. Suddenly an immense pain shot up his left arm, and John rolled onto his back and looked at his arm to see that it was broken. He slowly lifted himself up into a sitting position with one hand, looking over at the body of Nice. Blood had been pooling up beneath her, seeming to be pouring from her head. Oh shit...I hit her when I was thrown...her skull must have fractured when it hit the concrete. John thought as he stared at Nice's face in the puddle of blood...she almost looked asleep. John was soon snapped out of his trance when he heard and saw one of his shock batons hit the ground beside him, accompanied by Chris' rallying words. "Get up, John! You can still save them!" John offered no reply, and simply spat out blood before slowly rising to his feet. He took hold of his broken arm and shifted it back into place as best he could, grunting through his clenched teeth. A news helicopter had arrived on scene, which was doing a decent job of distracting Valkyr as she screamed up into the air. John picked up the shock baton that Chris had tossed at him, and put it away in his coat before picking up the other baton by Nice's body. "We've got to go...n-now! We won't be...a-any help...t-to these people if...if we're d-dead. We've got to...r-run...l-lead her away..." John tried to tell Chris as quickly as he could, before Valkyr could focus her attention back on the two of them. By now, this event was broadcasting live by the news helicopter, and sirens could be heard in the distance. John looked down the street and back at Chris. Valkyr then heard the sirens herself and snapped her head around to look dead at Chris and John. She growled menacingly as another set of vials raised out of the back of her suit, injecting the liquids they held into her body once more. "F-Fucking hell! W-We...n-need to go...N-NOW!" John shouted as he turned to run away, holding his broken arm with his good arm almost as if he was carrying a football. Once Valkyr's fresh set of vials had been ejected and fell to the ground, she released a bloodcurdling shriek. Whatever humanity she still had was now completely gone from her, as she continued to growl like she was some wolf defending her claim over a fresh kill.</s> <\|message\|>Chris Jackson Chris saw the remains of the girl's body a moment after John. She looked peaceful, pleased almost - a thin smile tugged at the corners of her still lips. He wondered, idly, what she had been feeling when he died, if she had been afraid, or sad, or if she had suffered long. He wasn't accustomed to not knowing, and now it seemed like he'd never have cause to be. For a moment, Chris glanced between the news chopper, the monster, and the girl's dead body on the ground. "...Right. Run. Run sounds good." Squinting from the helicopter's lights, Chris took off down the street, trusting that John would be following behind. "Follow me, I know a place where we can hide!" Without turning to see if the hunter had obeyed his directions, Chris turned into an alleyway. The place he had in mind wasn't far, but the path was long and twisting - with any luck, they'd lose the monster in the turns. And, failing that, at least the place was always empty - if he and the hunter couldn't shake their pursuers, at least nobody else would die.</s> <\|message\|>Miller Anderson Miller Anderson Becoming wide eyed and awed at the immense place at what he thought would be a dump, he whistles then says, "Wow, you really struck it big, this place is sweet. with a grin, he quickly set off to explore the area, he set off right before Cole could explain the area but Miller was enthralled by the place and quickly found one of the bedrooms. Placing his backpack down, and just admiring the place, he quickly took a change of clothes since his old ones were sweaty. Putting on his new clothes, he left the bedroom and looked around. He still couldn't believe the size of this suite, the Bathroom was nice, the Kitchen was huge, but what took him by surprise was the living room, it was sweet. Stumbling upon the Pool, on impulse he decided that he'd want to take a quick dip, removing his clothes to reveal hard rock abs... No who am I kidding he doesn't have any. Running back to his room, he luckily had boxers that were fit for swimming and he changed again and ran back to the pool and jumped it, yelling "CANNONBALL!"</s> <\|message\|>Cole Harland Cole had finished his last drink, the fourth, and was now sitting in the kitchen trying to determine his next course of action. Of course while this was going on he heard Miller yell, ""CANNONBALL!" from downstairs. That triggered a memory of Cole's last time here. What was happening now was almost exactly like last time. The only difference was Cole wasn't drinking the first time. Well at least not for the same reason. His memory reminded him of the youngest in the group, Alex. Alex was a lot like Miller, the only difference was that Alex knew when to shut up. Still so far Miller has proven to be an alright guy. His last group even had someone like Naddy...no, no one was like Josie. Cole tried hard to forget the memory of her. It was too painful to revisit, not after what happened. Cole got up from his seat in the kitchen and headed downstairs. Once he was near the pool Cole didn't wait for Miller's undivided attention he simply yelled, "Hurry up, we got a meeting in the living room real soon!". Cole headed back upstairs and sat back on the couch. He didn't waste time and immediately handed Naddy one of the 1911s. "Just incase", was all he said before grabbing the remote and turning the tv to the news. What he saw wasn't good news. There was...something terrorizing the nearby town. What it was exactly Cole had no clue but it wasn't the first time he saw something like this. The Hunters had used gifted before in strange experiments but it was the first time he'd seen one actually completed. From the looks of it that thing was pursuing Gifted no doubt. The problem was what course of action should be taken. Cole wanted to help as many Gifted as he could but that thing...was there even stopping that thing?</s> <\|message\|>Natalia "Naddy" Neapein Naddy looked over to Miller as he seemed quite excited. She was more excited by the prospect of having a comfortable bed at this moment. Getting up she removed her coat, her tank top showing all the tattoos down her arms, as well as the ones on her lower back and even comingup the the back of her neck. She fallowed Cole over to the kitchen and opened a cupboard pulling out a glass as she moved the fridge getting some ice. After that she moved over looking and finding the Bourbon. Pouring her self a glass she lifted it up to her mouth and took a sip of it. Smiling she felt that golden brown liquid flowing down her throat with that little tickle of a burn. "Now that is refreshing" She set down her glass sighing as she was able to relax for the first time in what seemed like months. She closed her eyes as she was taking sips of her drink. As she stood there a handgun was handed out to her her. With out even looking she grabbed it, dropping the clip she pulled the slide back and looked forward raising it up as she pulled the trigger. It clicked but since there were now rounds that was all it did as the slide locked back. "Nice, smooth action, quick response. You take care of your guns, the hammer is a little slow on the response." She released the slide lock as it slid forward and she pushed that magazine back up into it's home as she reached back pushing it into the back of her pants. "A holster would be nice" She added grabbing her coat and her drink heading into the living room after hearing cole talking about a meeting. She draped her coat over the back of the couch as she sat down leaning back into the nook of it and took another sip of her drink.</s> <\|message\|>John Reynolds John followed Chris as the two made their escape, running into the alleyway as the sirens got louder. You could hear the screech of tires, followed closely by the opening and slamming of car doors. There was a moment of shouting, accompanied by the whirring blades of the orbiting news helicopter. A ferocious scream then broke through the air as if the shouting of men and the whirring of the helicopter had only been little more than crickets chirping, capable of belonging to no one other than Valkyr herself. John slowed down and turned to look behind him as Valkyr pounced on an officer, beating his head into the pavement as a shock baton rolled out of his now lifeless hand. The other authorities reached for their sidearms, but Valkyr had already taken the one from the officer she had just killed and began to fire on the other men. Twelve gunshot rapidly rang through the air as four men fell to the ground, dead. The surviving officers took cover being the cars they had arrived in, and Valkyr began to look around frantically. She was doing something...she had an objective...but what? She growled almost as if out of pain, struggling to remember the man with the two shock batons. That was it! She was after him...but where did he go? Valkyr then looked down the alley way and saw a blur of movement disappear around the corner, taking it as a sign of her prey she then bolted off down the alley while the officers began to open fire on her from behind. Meanwhile, John had returned to running after Chris as fast as he could, grunting with every other step as he felt a throbbing pain in his broken arm.</s>	<\|message\|>Chris Jackson Chris felt all of it. The cracking, the tearing, the crying and the dying and the fear, pungent and mortal, all of it burst into his head as the men were torn apart by the monster. He screamed, fell to his knees, clutched his head with tears streaming from his eyes. One man was afraid when she tore at his throat, afraid to die - another was sad, very sad, because he had never seen the Eiffel Tower. One was guilty, because his son wouldn't be able to sleep without someone to read him bedtime stories. These feelings, these images, were the last things that would ever pass through the minds of those men - and now Chris would forevermore be the keeper of their dying days. He struggled to his feet and kept running, trying to shut out the pain as he had tried so often to before. It was a losing battle, but he could at least ignore it for now. Most days, he hated ignoring other people's pain; it felt selfish, irresponsible. But he needed to focus now - he needed to get to the stash of supplies he'd hidden, the little place he'd carved for himself during his short time in this city. There, he could think, he could rest, and the creature wouldn't be able to kill any more innocents. He was, of course, quite certain the place would be empty. Who ever went to train stations these days?</s>
<\|description\|>Cole Harland Age: 24 Gender: Male Eye Colors: Red and White Gift: Cole is capable of taking control of the living and the dead, specifically animals but humans as well if pushed hard enough though this can prove extremely dangerous as it causes him to fall unconscious after extended use. He is also capable of healing himself by leeching off the life force of a living organism. Bio: Cole is an abomination. His subconscious, a being of rage and malice, has been given life. Most of the time he is able to control it but occasionally in times of great duress Cole's inner evil, what he calls Dread, is capable of taking over. How Cole received this curse is unknown but when it started isn't. Dread's first appearance was when Cole was in his teens. Living with his alcoholic father and little sister Cole's only source of happiness was his sister. As a result when she was killed on her way home from a friend's home Cole was sent into a rage. Turns out his sister was not the only victim of the killer. Other girls had been targeted and Cole found the pattern in his activities. He was only 18 when he found the man who murdered his sister and when he did Dread was revealed. It siphoned the life out of the man and from that day on Cole was never the same. His outlooks on life and people were completely changed. Today Cole is a cynical and almost completely void of empathy. Cole's Theme</s> <\|message\|>Chris Jackson A monster. Betrayed, hunted, squeezing red ragged rips, running, can't kill it can't kill it can't kill it. The fear cracked into Chris's mind like a lightning bolt. Something was very, very wrong nearby. That was when he turned to see the bandaged man (now sans-bandage) sprinting towards him. On his tail was someone or something else, a woman in a red and black bodysuit, a collar around her neck. Another Gifted, he thought. One they'd made a slave of. "Go! Gogogogogo! NOW! Run! There's a fucking MONSTER after me!" "GET BACK HERE SO I CAN RIP YOU APART!" Now it was starting to make sense. The bandaged man was a hunter, or worked for hunters, and he'd known this thing was coming, or maybe he hadn't but he'd known something, and he knew that Chris and the girl were in danger. That's why he did what he did, but now he was in danger. The monster had hurt him, that much was clear from his pain and the dripping red holes in his arms. It would kill him if it could, and then the girl, and then Chris, and maybe other people too. Innocent people. All of these thoughts flashed through Chris's mind in the fraction of an instant it took the man's frantic pace to reach his position. Fortunately, his next action required no thought. None at all. With one hand he flung the scarf and glasses from his face and dropped them to the ground, along with his bag and guitar case. He took off running, running towards the monster, and slammed his shoulder into it from the side. "Go! Run! Get out of here, get away from the library, there are people in there!"</s> <\|message\|>Lucky Newman Lucky Newman Lucky smirked hearing where Thomas was from, though he was right about the putting on the accent that area. It was easier to get people to talk to people if you sounded like them. Though it was hard to fit in now, being Gifted stopped all chances of being normal and interacting with others. Though it was nice to be able to talk to someone like yourself, so talking to Thomas was nice. He didn't feel so alone but at the same time he was waiting for the knife in the back. It was a constant struggle in his head, he wanted to trust but the past betrayal was hard to get over. So simply put, he was on the fence about trusting. "I'm from Prince Edward Island, Canada." He said before chuckling softly before continuing, "If you heard my natural accent you would think I was someone fresh off the boat from Ireland or Scotland." He said with a smile remembering how heavy his accent was when he first was on the run, people thought he was from the old country. But he needed to blend in, that was when he met Siri.... He quickly shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts. He looked out the door of the old rail car when he noticed movement. "Be ready to make yourself unnoticeable Tom." He said lowly as he continued to look out for danger. As he watched a girl suddenly popped up from behind some old train parts, "Hi...I'm Lilith." The girl said with a slight smile on her lips. Lucky locked his eyes on her and stood still for a moment before jumping down from the old rail car. He could see that she was Gifted by her Jade and Maroon eyes, though he was going to be careful like he was with Thomas. He made his body rigid as he watched Lilith for a moment, he had to wonder if she was hunter. But as he watched her he noticed that her hair was wind blown and that she was slightly dirty, so she was mostly likely not a hunter as hunters were usually clean. "I'm Lucky." He said with a slight tension in voice but he didn't sound as threatening as he did with Thomas earlier. "You thirsty or hungry?" He asked though he was still weary of the new comer. He was glad to see another Gifted, but he was realizing that he was rusty in his communication skills. Damn you Siri! He thought as he held an arm out ushering Lilith to the old rail car that would give them some cover, for now at least. Maybe they could plan what to do next or in the very least get to know each other. But Lucky was waiting for the ax to drop and his luck run out.</s> <\|message\|>Cole Harland After exiting The Suite, Cole sat in the driver's seat of his car. This time there was music, only silence as he sat there trying to decide whether he was doing the right thing. Last time he tried something like this...it didn't end well. It seemed as though being around Cole was bad for people's health. The more he thought about it the more the memories of those he'd lost came back to him. It got to a point where it was too much and Cole punched the car stereo causing the display to crack and the dial to pop out again. Cole sighed as he sat back in his seat. "..What are you doing?". There was a silence as he rubbed his forehead, the pain in his knuckles had begun to fade but was still throbbing somewhat. That was when it happened, all those memories of his old friends came once again but this time instead of agony Cole felt a growing rage which added to the already existing pool of anger he had within him. The Hunters would pay for what they did to his friends, what they do to all Gifted. Starting now his crusade would begin, and those two down in The Suite would be the first out of many other gifted he'd recruit to exact revenge on those who oppressed his kin. "I don't usually let you out...but I cam tell it won't matter soon", of course Cole wasn't talking to himself. Technically he was but now it was a different being all together. Exiting the car Cole went to the back and opened up the trunk, inside was the same dufflebag from the gas station but instead of opening it he took it out with him along with one other bag which was for clothes. Once he was back inside The Suite he laid his clothes bag on hos bed and laid the duffle bag on the living room coffee table. Opening it revealed that it's contents were more than just money, inside were two Remington Colt 1911 R1 pistols and a G36C Assault Rifle. Cole laid the 1911s on the table but took the G36C with him to his room. Once inside the room he placed his rifle by the nightstand and headed back into the living room. He sat on the couch and turned on the tv.</s> <\|message\|>Lilith B. Smith Lilith looked at Lucky, her eyes widening. The offer of food and water made her lip quiver. The offer of shelter and company made her want to cry. She was so desperate for a place to stay, for people she could actually become friends with. So Lilith approached the train car without a second thought, she stood only a couple of steps away from Lucky now. If Lucky looked close enough, he would realize that Lilith's eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, her hair was disheveled, and her body was cleansed roughly, as though she had very little time to get clean. "T-thank you. That's very generous. I think I'll take you up on that offer." She understood this was generosity, and that he was offering it because she was desperate. Still though, she managed a bold smile, and reached out her hand. "What's your gift? We might as well exchange them, since we're going to be sitting in a train car for who knows how long." Her voice was a bis stronger although it was rough as if it hadn't been used often. She offered a hand to Lucky, and then peered around him, at the other stranger. She pressed her lips together and frowned. "Um hi to you too. How are you?" She asked, glancing between Lucky and the man who hadn't spoken yet.</s> <\|message\|>John Reynolds Valkyr took the hit from Chris and fell, but as soon as she hit the ground she was getting back up. She screamed at him and prepared to charge, but John tackled her back to the ground and shocked her with his batons. By now, people were screaming and running away from the library in panic. Valkyr kicked John off of her and sent him flying into Nice, resulting in a cracking-thud sort of sound. John moved slightly but didn't get up, one of his shock batons had fallen near Chris while the other was in the pile with him and Nice. Valkyr had gotten to her feet and grabbed a man who came out of the library, swinging him around to slam his face into the wall. The man was killed instantly as his skull fractured on impact, and then his lifeless body proceeded to be thrown at Chris by a screaming Valkyr.</s> <\|message\|>Chris Jackson What is that thing, it's got me, it's got me, hurts- The dead man's pain was flung at Chris just as surely as his corpse was, and of the two was probably the more agonizing. A person's dying pain had always hit especially hard - his knees were buckling even before the body crashed into him, sending him sprawling to the ground, the hunter's and the victim's pain mingling with his own. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. One innocent was dead already, and it looked like more would follow, judging by the crowd of people spilling out of the library to catch a glimpse of the tumult. The hunter was still on the floor, in a heap with the girl with the closed-off mind. The monster was roaring now, frothing with rage. Something metal rolled against Chris's foot - one of the hunter's batons. He rose to his feet, a hand closed around the weapon. He couldn't fight the monster, that much was certain, but maybe someone could fend it off long enough to get the people away. What happened to him after that didn't matter. A sentence flashed into his mind as he tossed the weapon to the hunter. He hadn't been around the man long enough to be certain it was the sentence he needed, but if ever there was a time for a shot in the dark, this was it. "Get up, John! You can still save them!" With that done, he whipped around, baring his face at the crowd of humans and advancing on them quickly, waving his hands. Confusion at the scene unfolding turned into dread, horror, and nausea. People stumbled back, their hands over their eyes. There were screams of revulsion, fear, as he drew closer and closer to the crowd. "Run!" He screamed. "Leave!" They complied. With one mind, the crowd of humans turned and fled from him, fled back to the library, back inside, where they would be safe.</s> <\|message\|>Natalia "Naddy" Neapein Naddy used her bike as seat as she un-zipped her coat and leaned on it. It took a few moments but it seemed like Chris wasn't to chatty at the moment. She sat there leaning against her bike when Cole walked back out side. "well it looks like our fearless leader has returned" Though as she spoke cole hadn't even walked out side as it took a few moments before he opened the door and walked out of the office and she turned back looking at the door. "We have the Presidential Suite" Cole said as she fallowed behind him, though it didn't much look like this place had much of any form of suite. Once she walked in she looked around the room. She had a little smile on her face tough. It looked like a dump, but she could feel the soft air current flowing through the room leading into the closet. She looked over at it as she stepped into the room. She kept quite though before soon he walked in and opened up that false door. She fallowed him down descending into the room and walking in behind him. She let out a whistle "Fancy digs Mr. Wayne" She said walking in and looking around the room "Now the real question. What's the bar like, and where is the pool table?" She walked further into the room before flopping down on the couch "I can get used to this" she said getting comfortable.</s>	<\|message\|>Cole Harland Sitting beside Naddy, Cole heard what she said about getting used to living here."Don't", he stated plainly before continuing "This place comes with a price from the both of you. Besides even if it didn't this might only be temporary, if the Hunter find this place we are either dead or out of here before they make us dead". Despite that bit of news being a bit of a killjoy it bothered Cole little. If these two were going to be a part of all this they had to work for their stay here. The work he had in mind wasn't an office job obviously, instead it was something not entirely legal. "...but to answer your question there should be drinks in the kitchen if not then oh well we'll have to go buy some. As for the pool table there is none, all we have is...well the pool". Cole got up from the living room couch and headed towards the kitchen, he needed a drink. Once in the kitchen he searched the cabinets for what he was looking for. Last time he was here he hid a bottle of Grey Goose Vodka for himself incase he returned. Fortunately it was still there and after adding some ice to his glass he added the Grey Goose and instead of sipping it Cole just downed it. He filled his glass again, this time holding it up for a second before drinking it as if he was cheering. It was clear that he was drinking for more than himself. An observation confirmed once he said out loud, "This one's for the old crew...".</s>
<\|description\|>Thomas Barnett Age: 21 Gender: Male Height: 6' 3" Eye Colours: Green and blue Gift: Can become "unnoticeable". If he wants, he can make it so that people do not "see" him, even though he is still completely visible. For example, if he slaps someone, they will notice him. Bio: Thomas was born to a relatively normal family in a relatively normal neighborhood. He grew up leading an uneventful life, until his eighteenth birthday, however. When he woke up, he looked in the mirror, and saw that one of his eyes had changed colour to blue. He thought it was just the light, or because he was tired. In school that day, though, he got angry at someone, and went to the toilets to calm down. Because of all of the attention he was getting, he didn't want to be noticed, and then people stopped noticing him, unless he interacted with them. At first, he thought this was a joke, but it kept happening, whenever he wanted it to. He has now been on the run for a few months because people have been following him.</s> <\|message\|>Cole Harland Cole started the ignition but stopped and stared at Miller after hearing him say, "Onward my faithful steed..". There was a moment of awkward silence before Cole shook his head,"I can tell you're gunna be a pain in my ass already". Without another word he put the car in drive and began speeding off onto the highway. With the dial back in its proper place Cole turned on the car stereo and pressed play, His favorite song came on and Cole began to hum along to lyrics. "Kind of like the old days..", he thought as he glanced in the rear view mirror at Naddy. He chuckled a bit because the old days were actually just a few years ago. After a bit of driving on the highway Cole exited off and drove into the parking lot of a motel. "I'll go get us a room. You can go talk to your girlfriend now", Cole said to Miller with a sinister grin. He got out of the car and headed into the guest sign in. The guy at the counter was shady looking, not the dirty homeless drug addict kind of shady but the kind of shady you'd see in a guy who was about to take someone hostage. Cole walked up to the desk and shook the man's hand, the two were well acquainted. "Well if it ain't Cole Harland. Didn't think I'd see you again, not after what happened at Haven", the man was gifted which was told by the mismatched eye colors. "Yeah...I was lucky to get out, you still got the room for me Brennan?" "Of course, the 'Presidential Suite', for an old friend", Brennan leaned to the side of Cole and looked out the window to see Miller and Nadia. "What you starting up another-" "Making new friends. Now, the keys?", Cole held out his hand and shortly after a silver key fell into his palm. "Sure thing boss, sure thing..", Brennan sat back in his chair after handing Cole the keys and began to read a..rather revealing magazine. Cole grinned slightly and headed out, "Same old Brennan".</s> <\|message\|>Natalia "Naddy" Neapein Naddy watched Coles little display of his power "Oh Mr. dark' She said as soon they both walked back into their car and started it up. She zipped up her coat and pulled her helmet over her head before stuffing her hair up inside of it. She soon had turned the key and hit to the starter as the bike fired up coming to life. She looked back to see the pair already pulling away "Give a girl some time to pull out at least" she muttered to her self before she popped it in gear and pulled the throttle. She swung the back end out and burned out in her spot turning the bike before she was soon off. It didn't take long before she was fallowing the pair. Riding behind them she decided to have some fun while riding. Soon enough she pulled up along side of them and hit the clutch while down shifting two gears, once she let out and hit the gas her front in lifted off the ground. Riding along side them with her front wheel up she pulled a head before hitting her back brake softy to lower the front wheel slowly and pulling up behind them. She stayed behind them, riding back and forth in her lane and pulling up in front of them for a few miles before pulling back. She popped the front up a few times more as well, mostly out of boredom. After a bit they were pulling into a motel as she soon pulled along side them. Sitting up she streached before taking off her helmet and setting it down on her fuselage and leaning against it "My my, cheap motel. You two sure do know how to make a girl feel special". She leaned back again looking around as Cole got out of the car leaving them. She kicked a leg over her bike as she used it as a seat "guess it's just me and you then." she said looking to Miller sitting in the passenger seat of the car.</s> <\|message\|>Miller Anderson Miller Anderson "I can tell you're gunna be a pain in my ass already" utters Cole, "You'll hurt my feelings man." he replies with a fake sob. Driving through the thick and unmanaged road, Cole opened up some tunes, back from his old war days Miller presumed. All of a sudden, Naddy begins to start having fun by herself on the road, doing some nasty tricks that could probably kill if it wasn't her driving. "Man I am stuck with Mr. Grumpy over here listening to his old war tunes. Miller grumbles out loud, putting his hand on his chin, and his elbow outside the window. He had watched Naddy the whole time to pass the time, and boy, was she free spirit and wild. Pulling up the old and rather shady runway, "Uhm, you sure this is where we have to sto- he says, but then was cut off by Cole leaving the car. "It is." he said with a frown. "I'll go get us a room. You can go talk to your girlfriend now" says Cole, with Miller replying "Oh wow, so you can tease if you try!" he says back to him as he walks into the shady building, face full of smiles. "My my, cheap motel. You two sure do know how to make a girl feel special" Naddy utters, "Well it's not my idea of a first date either." he replies back with a Banter, grinning ear to ear at her. Staying situated in his seat, he tried ruffling through some of his cds but only found sound weird tunes, "What does Cole listen to." he says outloud. Naddy getting out of her vehicle, in the eyes of Miller, this was a very 'sexy' act. "guess it's just me and you then." she says, "I guess so!" he replies with another smirk "I would ask some teasing thing by now, but I wanna know, why all the tats? I mean they look sexy n' all but, can't help wonder." he asks with a raised eyebrow.</s> <\|message\|>Thomas Barnett Thomas was thankful that it was a gifted who he had found, and that he didn't mind other gifted. Or, at least, that's what Thomas thought. Thomas put his arms down, and listened to the person, who he now knew to be called Lucky, tell him what his gift was. Making people forget you could be useful, but Thomas liked his own power better. Lucky asked Thomas his name, "I'm Thomas," he said, "Nice to meet you," Then, Lucky asked Thomas what his gift was, "I can make people not notice me," he told Lucky, "But only if they're not already looking at me."</s> <\|message\|>Greg Manie Kithra Moore "No problem Kirtha, although I haven't thought about my plans this far. Im sorry, but what do you think we should do? I don't mind you staying here if you want, I can fit up to three other people including me, so there is plenty of space in here but what would you like to do? I don't want to sound controlling or anything like that but I want to see whats comfortable with you and what you want to do" His question was rather straight forward and caught Kithra off guard, but then her guard was easy to topple. As he spoke she felt her mind go foggy again which was slightly annoying, though she was glad for it as it kept her from worrying too much. She cocked her head to the side as he gave her a stern look, she wasn't sure why he was looking her like that. Did she look like she wasn't going to take him seriously? Maybe she did, she was often told she looked like she didn't believe anyone. Well it served her well this far, even though she didn't mean to look that way. She looked down at her feet and bit her lip before looking up with her head still cocked to the side, with her damp hair hanging. "Call me Kitty." She said softly as she smiled. She wasn't sure what they should do let alone what she should do. Though she was sure that she wanted him to call her Kitty, as her name sounded funny coming from him. Maybe it was his mind gift or maybe she was just feeling comfortable, both of which were dangerous and she knew it. But she just wanted to be safe and who ever could protect her she would most likely stay with, since she had no survival skills. She knew that if she stayed she would be well cared for and for the moment safe. She shook her head and refocused on Damien and his silver and silvery blue eyes. "I would like to stay, but only if its okay with you." She paused biting her lip before continuing, "As to what we should do next I'm unsure, maybe wait here or depending on how long you have been staying here we should move." She said as she moved to sit in the passenger seat. She sat so her back was up against the door so she was looking at Damien, she was glad that he found her as she might of been caught or killed or died of the elements. So she felt like she owed him though she was unsure what to do for him. I could make a cake.... Wow that sounds stupid! Right make him a cake Kitty, you would look like a tool! She thought to herself as she felt her cheeks go pink at the thought. Maybe I could dance? She thought again and suddenly realized that he didn't ask her what her gift was. Most Gifted would want to know the others gift right off the bat, but he hadn't asked her. She suddenly had a new respect for him. --- Lucky Newman Lucky smirked and nodded before relaxing, after realizing that Thomas didn't mean him any harm. So far this was good he didn't have to be on the defensive, which was becoming tiring. One could only hold out for so long before the fight became too much, maybe if he had others with him it wouldn't be so bad. But he once trusted someone and that whole relationship ended horribly, he vowed never to trust someone fully. Sure he would trust them enough so that he felt a bit safe, but he would always keep an eye out to see if they were going to betray him. Damn Regulars, fucking up everything up! He thought before refocusing on Thomas. "Okay, that gift isn't to bad if you wanted to steal something or what ever.... Where are you originally from?" He asked in a more relaxed tone to let the other guy know that he wasn't a threat. "You hungry? Come on lets get out of the open and head over to the rail cars." He said as he waved Thomas to follow him. He existed the old station house and looked around to make sure that the way was clear and that no one was around to watch them. He quickly walked across the platform onto and across the tracks to reach the old rail cars. Once he reached the rail car he was using he threw open the door and jumped in and waited for Thomas to jump in, all the while he kept his eyes open for danger. He seriously felt like a meerkat, one standing guard while others did their thing. Maybe that's what us Gifted should be.... If only we could all trust each other. He thought as he continued to look out. --- Greg Manie The sound of his chains and the sound of marching feet was all that Greg could hear as the Regulars marched him to death. He was going to die, all because he was resistant to the efforts of the military that wanted to use him against his own people. He rather be put to death then become a weapon for the enemy, and he was. He smiled darkly at the thought that they couldn't break him, couldn't bend him to their will. I bested you and because you are afraid of me, you will destroy be. He thought as they continued to march, he could see the aura's of the men around him and he could tell that they were relieved that he was going to die but they were also afraid that he would do something. But alas, he could do nothing but march to his death. Forgive these men, as they are weak and do not know that they are fools. He silently prayed as they marched. One, Two, their steps went. One, Two. One, two. One, two. One, two. The lights went out... Greg didn't even have to think as he let his body move, he hit the guard infront of him then ducked as the two guards took out their electric sticks and went to hit him. But instead they ended getting each other, the two guards convulsed then fell to the floor. Without thinking he kicked out behind himself and got the other guard in the groin. He grabbed the electric stick from the down guards and turned quickly striking the rear guard in the face. The guard fell, his head bleeding badly. Greg turned again to face the front guard that had composed himself. Greg beared his teeth in a crazed smile, he went to strike the guard but he was stopped. Without thinking he head butted the guard then he struck out again this time the electric stick embedded itself in the guards shoulder. Greg watched as the guard convulsed and fell, he wasn't going to live that much Greg knew. He quickly searched the guards for a key before he unlocked his chains. He was free and he didn't care who he had to kill in order to get out of the complex. The Regulars will wish they never fucked with me!</s>	<\|message\|>Thomas Barnett Thomas followed Lucky, jumping into the train cart when he was told. He was cautious about telling Lucky where he was from, but he might as well say it, it wouldn't harm him, "I moved over here from North Carolina a few years ago," he told him, "But I put on an accent. It's easier to fit in if you sound like everyone else." Thomas sighed, remembering happy memories of North Carolina, "My grandparents are from Europe - Scandinavia and Ireland - that's why I've got this hair and skin," Thomas gestured to his hair. "So, where're you from?" he asked.</s>

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<\|description\|>Karram Sylian Age: 56 Gender: Male Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Seelie Sidhe (Faerie) Physical Description: Talents:-Flight: The ability to fly with proficient maneuverability for a long duration of time. -Nature Magic: The ability to manipulate nature in various ways such as entangling creatures with branches or roots, concealing himself within the earth, or harnessing energy from plant life to strengthen his blade. -Illusory Manipulation: Can use Illusion Magic to disguise himself or create minor sensory illusions against others. -Sleep Inducing Magic: The ability to induce a narcoleptic state of sleep in targeted creatures. (Related: Karram also has the innate ability to create illusions or send messages to sentient beings in their dreams.) -Empathy: The ability to perceive people's emotions and motives. -Sword-fighting: He is a trained swordfighter. History:The Sylian branch family is renowned in the faerie community of Ireland. For centuries they have served as judges in the Seelie Court, with the primary responsibility of doling out punishment for faeries who have committed crimes against the mortals or faerie brethren. Karram Sylian's family was different however. He was the unfortunate product of an unlawful relationship between a Seelie faerie and an Unseelie faerie. His father was pronounced a traitor to the community and both he and his forbidden lover were executed. Karram Sylian was to be banished from the Seelie Court and sent to the Ashen Pit where Unseelie miscreants lived. However his father's brother, Eromyr, was able to convince the council to spare the infant faerie and grant him 20 years of life to prove his usefulness to the community. The council gave in and allowed Eromyr to adopt Karram and teach him as his own. For the next 15 years Karram grew up learning the ways of the Seelie Court, faerie magic, and other resourceful trades. He never learned about his past or birth parents until his 16th birthday. Eromyr sat him down and explained the scenario that lead to his birth. Astonished and heartbroken, Karram spent the next few weeks lazing in a deep depression. But eventually he came to his senses and decided his life's work would be to amend his family's honor and eventually become Seelie Grandmaster. On his 20th birthday Karram was brought before the council of elders and rigorously tested. His incredibly honed skills and vast faerie knowledge surprised the council, and so they let him live. Five years later Karram was appointed as a Seelie Adviser, the same position his uncle Eromyr held. He and Eromyr were sent with several others to the United States to set up a new branch of the Seelie Court within the supernatural communities that exist there. Karram was especially excited to travel to a new place where he could make a name for himself without the past haunting his every move. For the last 31 years, Karram has served as an adviser in the courts. He is known for his ability to detect the emotions and motives of defendants as well as his overall intelligence and loyalty; even receiving a few nods from Count Caradoc in the past. In the human world, Karram originally disguised himself as a young and ambitious David Rodgers. He took up a job as an attorney and excelled in the position for just over 20 years. However he was commanded by the courts to change both his disguise and persona due to skepticism in his office over his apparent lack of aging. So he adopted the name Karl Silverman and has since been working for the IRS at the request of the courts (presumably so he could look into some of the supernaturals who mingle with with the humans). But now everything has changed. The resurrection of Nemsemet and the slaughter of the Count and his high council has caused chaos in the supernatural world, and the last thing Karram wants is for that chaos to spill into the mortal world. Because if it does, it could bring the whole world to its knees... Psychological Profile:Karram is unlike most faeries in many ways. Determined and courageous, Karram is always looking to prove himself useful to his community; and to himself. He hides his insecurities and depression by focusing entirely on work, and so he could easily be seen as a workaholic. He finds the usual rambunctious and mischievous nature of his fellow faeries to be immature; whereas he tends to focus on more serious matters. However he does share a deep distrust for Unseelie Sidhe due to his interactions with them in the courts as well as the indoctrination he experienced living with the Seelie Sidhe community in Ireland. Outside of combat or work, Karram is relatively quiet and often becomes entranced in his own thoughts. He also has trouble turning off his professionalism considering he doesn't harbor many actual friendships. Possessions:-Oakbane, a custom blade enchanted with earthen magic. -Sylian Pendant, a necklace worn by members of the Sylian Branch Family. -Faerie Dagger, a small dagger he keeps sheathed on his lower back as a secondary/defensive weapon. Yes, and: Karram was one of the presiding advisers during Antonio's preliminary hearing, where he briefly met Flint as well. He was the one that suggested his innocence after reading his emotions in the courtroom. Although initially ignored, Antonio was proven innocent anyway after the murders continued. Flash forward several decades later, Karram, under his human guise of Karl Silverman, was asked by the IRS to audit the Horizon Foundation before their annual licensing renewal. It was apparent from the start that despite his disguise Antonio knew who he was, more than likely by scent. It was a moderately uncomfortable confrontation but nonetheless remained civil. (^Can be amended or changed entirely if you don't think it fits.)</s> <\|message\|>Parael Magnus Of all the people in the van who could berate him for what he'd done, Parry found himself flinching more and more with every word Rikive shouted at him. Like a kicked puppy, his smoldering eyes were cast down to the floor of the vehicle, losing their ambient glow until they returned to Parry's natural baby blue color, and even then were positively dejected. Parry was ready for Tony, Flint, Autumn, everyone to name him a liability and cast him out as a pariah for what he'd done, but losing Rikive's friendship would hurt him the absolute most of all. So when Rikive squeezed Parry in an almost tackle-hug, he breathed in a sigh of relief and his own breath caught in his throat. So he just hugged her back as hard as he could, one hand patting her own shoulder. "I'm sorry," Parry said, squeezing hard. "I'm really, really sorry hon. I found some stuff out but it wasn't worth putting you all in danger." Parry released Rikive just long enough to turn toward Flint, his eyes brightening once again as he saw the perpetually well-dressed-for-a-bygone-era detective wizard. "Hey Flint!" CRUNCH! ------------------------------------- Billy Rikker's feeding frenzy was interrupted by the loudest, shrillest, most ear splitting noise he had ever heard in his century of living. It reminded him of the shrieking a spoiled toddler would make when denied the flashiest, prettiest, most expensive toy in the toy store and goddammit, she was gonna get that toy if it meant she would have to make a scene that would shame her parents for all eternity. So while the noise successfully broke the trance the close circle of vampires had been in while lapping the blood from the carpet, their super senses were picking up the sound as nails-on-a-chalkboard centimeters from where they stood. Suddenly his whole surviving clan was on the floor, clawing at their ears to get the noise to stop while up and down the street, car alarms for Mercedes, Lincolns, Bugattis and other half-million dollar vehicles activated their anti-theft mechanisms. ------------------------------------- Parry was knocked flat on his ass by Flint's punch, his nose once again collapsed. But he could absolutely feel that it was not where it was supposed to be, and Rikive, even if she were so inclined, wouldn't be able to heal him for a while after pulling both Parry and Flint back from the brink in such a short period of time. Parry had seen toddlers melt down from having scraped knees and other boo-boos. So he was emulating the best as he cried like a baby over his precious nose, the tires of the van squeeling away as they shot off to find Gray and Beth, Parry the Angel, slayer of Demons, protector of the innocent, semi-immortal warrior and self-professed hedonist kicked and screamed, holding his face, and only barely resisted the urge to say 'MOMMY! HE HIT ME!'</s> <\|message\|>Kaori Lyle "We're not in an asking mood..." She was enraged, and yet she almost had to laugh. Don't I feel like a lady. She was completely engaged with the hunter. "Do you honestly believe I would willingly help you against Nemsemet?" She gave an unbelieving shake of her head. Even as she glared at him, her wine-colored eyes carried warm undertones. As if it were the only part of her being that might still be human. Her icy tone was a stark contrast. Each word felt like a bite at the air, "You're incredibly foolish, human. You assault my people, and then you invite me to my own death." She paused, her head tilting as her eyes dipped low for a brief moment, judging his profile. "You don't even know what you're asking," she dismissively stated. And you didn't even say 'please.' Vaguely, she was aware of the presence behind her. She wasn't quite sure the nature of being he was, but she had surprise on her side. This hunter - human - would never be able to match her speed quickly enough to defend himself in a significant way. It was unlikely that she was going to get out of here unscathed, but she might as well enjoy the fight. After all, she was a creature of violence, and she didn't like his attitude. Seconds after the last word left her lips, she kicked off of the rooftop. She sprung from her place so quickly, it was almost a blur. Her body collided with the hunter. All of the concentrated - and complicated - fury she felt towards him exploded from her as she tackled him to the ground with a animalistic snarl. Her attack wasn't coordinated or thought through like her actions of evasion had been. This was purely instinctual. Now that she was close, so close she feel his pulse through his flesh, his scent was intoxicating. It made her lightheaded, but it didn't matter, because she didn't plan to resist the urge to part her lips and bury her teeth into the flesh around his shoulder. With a final draw of his aroma, she did just that, piercing the skin in search of crimson heat.</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover The vampiress had lunged with such speed and ferocity that it was too fast for him to react. She grabbed hold of him and the two tumbled across the roof until she had him pinned. He had lost hold of the bag as they rolled, some of the contents spilling onto the roof. Visible was a long metal spike, a metal bat still half-concealed by the bag, and an aerosol can. A set of fangs pricked his shoulder. It would have been more painful if he weren't already full of adrenaline. Gray moved his left hand quickly to draw the syringe from its place in his front pocket while drawing a Glock with his right, the same arm she was now drinking his lifeblood from. She in her fury smacked the syringe from his hand, pinned his arm and continued to draw from him. It clattered to the side. With his handgun he started to unload the magazine into her abdomen while using the painful opportunity to shove her off of him. Her teeth tore a chunk from his shoulder. She definitely looked more the monster now. He rolled to side to the closest equipment - the bag. What he grabbed was the metal spike. Sure, special wood could kill a vampire. He didn't want to kill her though. He wanted to paralyze her and if the syringe wouldn't work then filling her heart with some cold metal would. If this didn't work he may have to behead her and abandon the information before she leeched more of his life away.</s>	<\|message\|>Karram Sylian Karram was surprised to see the vampire lunge for Gray, and even more so that the attempt succeeded in bringing him down. The syringe toppled from his hand along with the bag, but he was all too quick to act. Karram heard several shots fire from within the scuffle before he even had the chance to move. Then, as Karram ran closer grabbing up his dagger, he noticed Gray push her off and grab a metal spike from the bag. Karram rushed over, throwing his dagger accurately into her left thigh before rolling to swiftly pick up the syringe. Sheathing his blade, Karram switched his approach and simply attempted to kick their vampire friend square in the face, with the intention of allowing Gray the opportunity to strike in which Karram could deliver the decisive blow: the concoction contained in the syringe, whatever it may be. Seamless timing would be required, for the vampire's reflexes were definitely faster than theirs. And as usual with this group, the pair didn't really have a well-thought-out plan; but rather a stream of quick glances to signal the conjoined attack. Kick. Metal spike. Syringe. Sleep magic. Detain. And so, Karram and Gray executed their respective moves and hoped for the best. Karram used one hand to deliver the syringe to her arm and the other to gently touch her forehead while mouthing his faerie incantation of sleep. Then he quickly backed off and watched in anticipation for things to kick in, all the while placing a hand on the hilt of Oakbane. If the strange concoction wasn't enough to bring her down for the trip back to the bunker, then Karram's magical touch should act as the final component in finally knocking her out. His magic was not as powerful as some of his more experienced relatives, but it still packed a punch. This has got to work, he thought.</s>
<\|description\|>Karram Sylian Age: 56 Gender: Male Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Seelie Sidhe (Faerie) Physical Description: Talents:-Flight: The ability to fly with proficient maneuverability for a long duration of time. -Nature Magic: The ability to manipulate nature in various ways such as entangling creatures with branches or roots, concealing himself within the earth, or harnessing energy from plant life to strengthen his blade. -Illusory Manipulation: Can use Illusion Magic to disguise himself or create minor sensory illusions against others. -Sleep Inducing Magic: The ability to induce a narcoleptic state of sleep in targeted creatures. (Related: Karram also has the innate ability to create illusions or send messages to sentient beings in their dreams.) -Empathy: The ability to perceive people's emotions and motives. -Sword-fighting: He is a trained swordfighter. History:The Sylian branch family is renowned in the faerie community of Ireland. For centuries they have served as judges in the Seelie Court, with the primary responsibility of doling out punishment for faeries who have committed crimes against the mortals or faerie brethren. Karram Sylian's family was different however. He was the unfortunate product of an unlawful relationship between a Seelie faerie and an Unseelie faerie. His father was pronounced a traitor to the community and both he and his forbidden lover were executed. Karram Sylian was to be banished from the Seelie Court and sent to the Ashen Pit where Unseelie miscreants lived. However his father's brother, Eromyr, was able to convince the council to spare the infant faerie and grant him 20 years of life to prove his usefulness to the community. The council gave in and allowed Eromyr to adopt Karram and teach him as his own. For the next 15 years Karram grew up learning the ways of the Seelie Court, faerie magic, and other resourceful trades. He never learned about his past or birth parents until his 16th birthday. Eromyr sat him down and explained the scenario that lead to his birth. Astonished and heartbroken, Karram spent the next few weeks lazing in a deep depression. But eventually he came to his senses and decided his life's work would be to amend his family's honor and eventually become Seelie Grandmaster. On his 20th birthday Karram was brought before the council of elders and rigorously tested. His incredibly honed skills and vast faerie knowledge surprised the council, and so they let him live. Five years later Karram was appointed as a Seelie Adviser, the same position his uncle Eromyr held. He and Eromyr were sent with several others to the United States to set up a new branch of the Seelie Court within the supernatural communities that exist there. Karram was especially excited to travel to a new place where he could make a name for himself without the past haunting his every move. For the last 31 years, Karram has served as an adviser in the courts. He is known for his ability to detect the emotions and motives of defendants as well as his overall intelligence and loyalty; even receiving a few nods from Count Caradoc in the past. In the human world, Karram originally disguised himself as a young and ambitious David Rodgers. He took up a job as an attorney and excelled in the position for just over 20 years. However he was commanded by the courts to change both his disguise and persona due to skepticism in his office over his apparent lack of aging. So he adopted the name Karl Silverman and has since been working for the IRS at the request of the courts (presumably so he could look into some of the supernaturals who mingle with with the humans). But now everything has changed. The resurrection of Nemsemet and the slaughter of the Count and his high council has caused chaos in the supernatural world, and the last thing Karram wants is for that chaos to spill into the mortal world. Because if it does, it could bring the whole world to its knees... Psychological Profile:Karram is unlike most faeries in many ways. Determined and courageous, Karram is always looking to prove himself useful to his community; and to himself. He hides his insecurities and depression by focusing entirely on work, and so he could easily be seen as a workaholic. He finds the usual rambunctious and mischievous nature of his fellow faeries to be immature; whereas he tends to focus on more serious matters. However he does share a deep distrust for Unseelie Sidhe due to his interactions with them in the courts as well as the indoctrination he experienced living with the Seelie Sidhe community in Ireland. Outside of combat or work, Karram is relatively quiet and often becomes entranced in his own thoughts. He also has trouble turning off his professionalism considering he doesn't harbor many actual friendships. Possessions:-Oakbane, a custom blade enchanted with earthen magic. -Sylian Pendant, a necklace worn by members of the Sylian Branch Family. -Faerie Dagger, a small dagger he keeps sheathed on his lower back as a secondary/defensive weapon. Yes, and: Karram was one of the presiding advisers during Antonio's preliminary hearing, where he briefly met Flint as well. He was the one that suggested his innocence after reading his emotions in the courtroom. Although initially ignored, Antonio was proven innocent anyway after the murders continued. Flash forward several decades later, Karram, under his human guise of Karl Silverman, was asked by the IRS to audit the Horizon Foundation before their annual licensing renewal. It was apparent from the start that despite his disguise Antonio knew who he was, more than likely by scent. It was a moderately uncomfortable confrontation but nonetheless remained civil. (^Can be amended or changed entirely if you don't think it fits.)</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover Gray had taken the opportunity to dress his wound properly. Despite tired eyes and a sore shoulder he was ready to carry on some business. A nap would have to wait because it was time to strike while the vampire was weak. He listened for a moment to the others in the main hall and threw in a comment as he lifted up their 'guest'. "Just make sure it's someone you guys can trust. I think we're all agreed that an event like that shouldn't happen again." His doubts were very high that they wouldn't care to have their new people be in charge of anything. He hefted up the vampire. She was still in dead-weight mode with an improvised stake in her heart. Gray picked a room with a heavy lockable door and lay her against the wall. "Hey Autumn, I need to borrow you for a second." He requested into the hall. He set up a few chairs in the room and took a seat opposite of the prone figure. Drawing a deep breath he slipped his mask on. "She should start regaining her senses as soon as the stake is removed. She's still drugged so I should be fine but I want you to lock me in here with her. What do you think?"</s> <\|message\|>Arachne (Assumed name: Autumn Weltich) Since everyone got back they were all pretty on edge. Perry got an ear full but somehow it didn't seem enough. Arachne was not always a forgiving creature and something as botched as their last venture would spell major punishment at her company. But this wasn't her company so she held off and left it to the others. Maybe later. It was brought up that there was no kind of command at all and that they were just going about things all wrong. No kidding, she could tell that at the beginning. She had been lightly directing things before it all went South. However she doubted any of them trusted her enough to even bother bringing it up. Turning to Gray she looked at the room. "Probably best if one other person joins you, just in case." She moves her attention to to the group again. Oddly enough the only other person she'd seen that has a head on straight was the one that pointed out the problem. Nodding to herself she spoke up. "What about you? When things were falling apart you took it upon yourself to get everyone out. You didn't panic or lose it in a fight. So I think you would be a good candidate."</s> <\|message\|>Antonio Victor Barnes Tony shook his head, "No way on me. As soon as it gets intense, there's not much more than instinct to work off of. I can talk about things and plan things here, in a controlled and safe environment, but I am not someone you can look to for good judgment in the middle of a fight. That's not how it works." Sure, Tony had a background, but it was a day to day thing, an office and dealing with people within the confines of civilization. In a fight, when the blood was up, lycanthropes were as fast, strong and resilient as anything, just about, but their instincts took over, their primal nature brought to the fore, muting the intelligence of the human. It was a form in flux and enraged, and not even able to properly speak more than a couple words -- and he'd never bothered to try. But he knew his own limitations; he'd learned them a while ago in deciding how to stay fundamentally out of the society of the Courts and the parallel city of the supernatural and preferred to stay in the mortal world, doing mortal work and forking over a tithe to de Lacy so he could be left alone and in peace. Nemsemet put an end to it and dragged him into this world against his will, forcing him to face things he didn't want to face. He didn't like shaving in the mirror and thinking of the thing inside him that cut loose in some swampy jungle, killing, perhaps eating, people indiscriminately, operating off pure instinct. He already wasn't liking the idea that he might harm someone he knew or didn't want to harm in this situation, and it's why he advocated not going anywhere near the Steak Knife, but picking off a lone vampire instead.</s> <\|message\|>Flint White Flint sat on a fold out chair, he had changed a few moments before into a white shirt and pants, as the others had been resting. He listened to the conversation but preferred to stay out of it, cradling a bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He took turns with each, breathing in the smoke then taking a swig of whiskey. He eventually spoke up "I don't care who is the leader, as long as I don't have to call them sir and do a pirouette every time they ask, like those bastards in command in 1917. Im telling ya, give a man a badge and he thinks he owns the place, why I ought to hae given him a thing or two. Course I couldn't or I would have been reprimanded and at that point I didn't even know I could shoot fireballs or whatever. Anyway in that trench my buddies used to…" Flint began to ramble on about some story of taking a German trench, a few racial slurs where mixed in here and there and most people would find it best to ignore him. A hundred years of information does a lot on the human brain.</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir Tony was Rikive's first choice as well, but he pointed out why he wouldn't make a great leader in the thick of a fight. Unfortunately she had to agree, berserkers were great for breaking enemy lines but for leadership roles? Not so much. Beth mentioned Flint and she supposed he would make-and he was drunkenly rambling about some war in 1917. Right, he was out as well. Rikive was mulling over the other's and what she knew of them, when she realized Autumn was talking to her. "What, me?" She asked, blinking in surprise that someone was considering her for the position. Because she had kept calm in the throws of a battle? Many of the other's had kept level heads as well. She suppose, she did come from a culture the prizes fighting above all else. She did use to spend some time in her grandfather's hall, filled with all the great fallen warriors. But...Did that qualify her to actually lead anyone? She frowned in thought, comparing herself to other viable candidates. "I...suppose?" She responded with a small shrug, not sure what to say. She had never been put in this position before. "The final say falls to the group though." She said, making a small motion with her hand to everyone else in the room. "If they agree then, I will step forward to lead."</s>	<\|message\|>Karram Sylian Karram had enjoyed the ride to the bunker. It was the first peaceful experience he'd had since joining this band of supernaturals. But it ended prematurely once they arrived. He and Gray dragged their vampire prisoner inside and Beth tied her to a chair. Then she was stored away for safe keeping, with Gray hungrily wanting to stand guard. However, as Karram returned to the main room, he noted the uncomfortable tension in the air and heard talk of needed leadership. And of course he agreed, but the question was more so who it should be to lead them. Mention of the fairy court made Karram's elongated ears perk up. And before he could speak on the matter, the fairy queen was dismissed as distrustful... this made Karram grit his teeth a bit, but he quelled his desire to shout down her throat. Despite his personal history and the misconception towards faerie loyalty, Karram and his people were a very tightly knit group and this went doubly for the Faerie Queen. A couple subtle breaths and Karram was able to return to a state of diplomacy. It was at this time that several name were thrown into the pot, so to speak. Karram pondered the options carefully. Tony was the initial person to gather them all up, and he was a born leader. But like he said, he had moments in which his mental state could be easily compromised. And Flint... well, Flint was an intelligent sorcerer but his general laze and attitude would make for an unfit leader overall. And his near-drunken monologue just proved the point further. But then Rikive was nominated by Autumn. Karram's brow lifted slightly at the thought; she had just dissed his Queen, but her battle prowess, experience and courage were definitely qualities that fit the bill. "I vote Rikive. She has a good balance of qualities that make her as perfect a candidate as we're going to get in this team. And obviously she doesn't have to go it alone; she can make the decisions and organize and command our 'ranks', but delegate duties she cannot fulfill to those in the group who better fit the scenario. And for the record," he darted a stern look at Rikive, "My Queen is not untrustworthy." Karram felt better getting that last part off his chest. It may have been an awkward summation to make after his more than diplomatic speech on behalf of the very person that mentioned his queen, but he shrugged off the thought and turned to check on the vampire once more. His demeanor had once again changed back to carefree. He waved back at the group as he headed for the vamp, "But obviously I'm not the only vote that counts."</s>
<\|description\|>Claudia Laurel Age: 23 (Physically) 62 (In reality) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Half-Demon Physical Description: Talents: -Using Firearms -Hand to hand combat -Stalking/Sneaking -Controlling fire -Parkour -Faster Healing History: Claudia was born in 1953, into a prominent family of demons due to an affair between a demon woman and a human. Her family had wealth, power, and most important of all, reputation. Her birth was not wanted by the elders, seeing as her parents were both young, and the fact that Claudia was a half-demon, which were considered disgraces and looked down upon. Claudia's grandfather, Harriet Laurel, decided that Claudia and her father were to be executed. Claudia's mother didn't want this, and helped her daughter disappear, along with Claudia's father. They began a new life (on earth) in America as James Williams and his young daughter, Claudia Williams. Two years later, Her father was drafted into the Vietnam war at the age of twenty. Claudia was sent to live with her aunt in Virginia, and spent the next twenty years staying there, waiting for her father to return. He never did. Her family was informed of his death, and Claudia received his possessions. In a trunk was a stack of letters, mostly love letters between her mother and father. After digging through the trunk and reading the old letters, she came upon addressed to her, from her parents. The letter told her all about her heritage and why she didn't have a mother with her.Claudia had hoped to get in touch with them, but was not able to enter their world and when summoned, they rejected her because she was a 'Halfling'. Left with no where to go, she wandered until one she walked in on two people fighting. One pulled out a gun to shoot the other, and Claudia threw the nearest thing she could find at the man, which happened to her shoe. The man ran off not wanting to be seen, and the other, Tom, introduced himself. The two became quick friends, both having no where to go. They lived off the streets, and eventually joined a gang. The two became tangled in a web of crimes and violence, and Tom decide that they needed to learn to defend themselves. They became more active in the gang learning from the other members how to fight, and later how to kill. Claudia and Tom advanced from just people taken under their wing to some of the most able members. Eventually the gang was busted, and Claudia escaped with Tom. They moved to New Camden, and decided to try to lay low. It didn't work out, as they were in desperate need of money, and Claudia ended up taking jobs which weren't quite legal. She eventually got arrested for vehicular manslaughter, of all things. She was sentenced to five years in prison. When she was let out on probation, she discovered that Tom had passed away. With nothing left, Claudia became a servant for a supernatural household in the court. When Nemsemet took over, her master was killed, along with his family. Claudia was given two choices. Join his side or die. She did what she thought every sane person would have done, and chose not to die. She needed the money anyway. She now works as a servant/hitman for Nemsemet, and though she may not like it, money always comes first. And her dog. Psychological Profile: Due to her history, Claudia is very pessimistic. She doesn't believe in the whole 'heart of gold' thing, and distrusts everyone around her. She doesn't like to show emotion, believing they are weaknesses. She believes that the court and the wealthy families in New Camden are all corrupt, but also thinks that Nemsemet is the same. Claudia has two 'modes', in place of emotions. There's stoic and uncaring, and then theres angry. When taking out targets, she remains cold and collected, but her anger can be triggered easily; she is sensitive about her family, and will physically harm anyone who insults her parents. She is also angered by the social hierarchy of fullbloods and halfbloods. Although she is willing to kill in cold blood, she is not merciless. She prefers to take people out quickly and painlessly, and if you give her good reason not to do something, she'll listen to you. Although it's hard to get her to trust you, if she believes in your cause then she will remain loyal. Possessions: A silver ring, which hides her identity as a supernatural creature, given to her by her mother. Two handguns, Several knives, and a sniper rifle. Has extras at her 'home', which is actually an abandoned building. A large husky she adopted off the streets. The closest thing she's ever had to a familiar. Yes, and: Claudia met Karram when she was sent to court for vehicular manslaughter. He was one of the people who helped get her a shortened sentence. She has mixed feelings about him. On one hand, he shortened her punishment, on the other hand, he still sent her to prison. Now though, they're going to meet under much different circumstances. Karram is one of the people she has been requested to kill, so thats awkward. (I didn't really know what to do here ^, so it can be changed.)</s> <\|message\|>Parael Magnus This was the worst mess Parry had ever seen since retiring to the human plane. And he'd seen 32 semi-potty trained toddlers on Mountain Dew not four years ago. His house was taking artillery fire from Russian missiles, a platoon of Nemsemet's goons were unloading assault rifle rounds into the walls and windows, and here he lay on the front lawn behind a dirt barricade while the motley band of supernatural misfits alternately ran for their lives or tried to fight back. It wasn't all bad though. Between Flint's hand cannon, the Demon's pistols, and (judging by the screams out back) Tony's lycan abilities, they might just have a shot at getting out of this whole thing- Which was when he heard the whine of the rocket, in seemingly slow motion, plunging into his apartment's bedroom window up above and exploding in a massive fireball. Bits of metal paneling, bricks and glass showered down onto everyone outside the building (including Parry) who continued to stare up at the gaping, burning hole in the building. "My clothes..." Parry whimpered, a tear forming in his eye. "All my clothes... and my scented candles... and my iPhone collection..." Now Parry may once have been a Celestial, a being of goodness, order, and devotion whose very existence was meant to keep the universe in line, protecting the innocent and doing no wrong. He served at the pleasure of the divine spark, being a total Tool for the forces of Light. But that hadn't lasted through the silk boom of the 1400s. Parry was now the most self-absorbed, materialistic and hedonistic motherfucker in the whole goddamn city of Camden. He ate fashion magazines, dreamed of walking the runway, and bagged every "stud muffin" he could convince to come back to his place on a Saturday night. So when he rolled onto his knees behind Flint's crumbling earthen barricade, eyes twitching in absolute rage and starlight forming in his hands, he was nothing short of a fucking mess. "This is for GUCCI!" He screamed, hurling a bolt at one of the gunmen across the street. The ball of gold light struck the vampire thrall square in the chest, forcing him to drop the AK in his arms as his clothes were consumed by fire. "AND YOU, BITCH!" He screamed, backing up to the front door to the daycare. "THIS IS FOR ARMANI!" The thrall woman, hefting a rocket launcher over one arm, caught a blast straight to the face as she turned to see the source of the shrill yell. Her eyeballs melting and shirt on fire, she dropped to the ground, rolling in the concrete to put out the flames. "MOTHERFUCKING CHANEL!" Which was right when someone, Parry wasn't sure who, grabbed him by the arm and hauled his ass back inside the building as a rocket landed not ten feet from where he'd been standing. And when he landed on his Prada diaper bag, that mad, fashion induced berzerker fury disappeared from Parry's eyes. "Oh. That's right. I always keep all my iPhones in here." Parry reached one arm deep into the bag and pulled out a gold 5s and a silver 6 Plus. "We're good everyone! I've still got my phone collection! Tony? Tony, where'd you go?"</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir Rikive was rising to her knees with her newly formed shield between her and the gun fire when another explosion rocked the building. She flinched, but kept her shield where it was as she rose up to her feet, looking toward the backdoor where the lawman had gone. Where is Parael? That question answered itself when she heard him yelling at the front of the building. "Oh no." She quickly ran to the door and watched with wide eyes as Parael laid waste to the ranks of their attackers. She had never seen him so angry before and she had certainly never seen him use his powers in such a way. It was frightening at the same time it was awe inspiring. She snapped from her amazement when she heard another horrific shriek fill the air. She lunged forward and grabbed Parael, pulling him back inside and onto the ground. She crouched in front of him with her shield protecting them from the debris of the blast. At his voice returning to normal she turned her head and gave him a flat look. His moods often changed so quickly and starkly, she truly wondered about the ancient beings sanity. "Out back." She informed him, pointing toward the door way. She heard wood begin to crack and she looked up with wide eyes. "MOVE!" She shouted, trying to keep at a crouch as she made to grab Parael's arm so they could quickly flee the building before it fell onto their heads.</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover The patter and boom of conflict sounded through the windows. Gray's attention was slightly distracted as he drove. Several times he shifted his gaze to the source of the sound as they drove to make sure they weren't in immediate danger. They were heading downtown at Autumn's direction. Autumn spoke over the distant gunfire. She sounded like she was trying to butter him up with basic info he knew for some big secret. Gray responded to the question. "Yeah. I know the myths." He glanced briefly at her just enough to see the hesitation in her face. "Arachne was cursed by the gods like Medusa was. Pissed them off really bad. Some perfect gods they were to lose their cool that easy." He trailed off, again looking at some movement on the side of the road. "Is that who we're gunning for? Is Arachne behind this?" He assumed.</s> <\|message\|>Arachne (Assumed name: Autumn Weltich) He knew, that was good. It was always a little odd hearing someone else talk about her as if she was not there. It was forever ago though so there was no way they could have known that she was still around. Shaking her head slightly she couldn't help but smile at Grey's jab at the gods. Indeed they were a fickle bunch. More easily wounded by mere words than just about any other creature in existence. It was then that he asked if Arachne was their target. For a second she almost corrected him harshly but held her tongue. Looking out at the flashes in the distance she took a breath to calmed herself. "No, Arachne is not the cause of this. Nor is she the target. I wanted to know how much you knew in case I needed to explain it to you. But I don't have to." The noise outside continued and she leaned forward so Grey wouldn't have to take his eyes further from the road. "That chaos out there may find us eventually. And when it does I want you to know who I really am, what I really am. Autumn Weltich is just an alias. That woman in the myth is me. I am Arachne." Unsure how this information would be taken she sat back and waited. There were many directions revealing who she was could go. Very few of them seemed good at the moment. It wasn't like they didn't know each other. She had assisted him several times in the past and given him work but that didn't necessarily change the fact that he hunted monsters. Up until this moment she had always maintained the guise of being human and Grey was doing work under human supervision.</s>	<\|message\|>Claudia Laurel Claudia continued shooting, from the wall, steering clear of other bullets. She was outnumbered, even with the help of others. This house would be taken soon, if there was anything left by that time. It hadn't even been a week and she'd be dead because of her job. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Karram's movements, but chose to ignore him, so when the roots curled around her ankle it as a surprise. One moment she was flat against the wall, facing towards the shooters, and the next she was pulled back and caught by someone. Looking up, she realized that someone was Karram. She allowed herself to be guided through the unfamiliar building towards the back. There were bodies in the kitchen, though it was hard to tell what they were due to their condition. So far she had suspicions of a lycanthrope or some other beast because of the carnage, some kind of celestial if the horrid smell invading her mouth and nose were any indication. She hated that smell, as well as most everything about beings from the other side of the supernatural street. Especially angels, all the ones she'd heard of and met were major snobs. There was a large explosion, much closer than before. Too close. She growled, the sound muffled slightly by the once clean mask she was wearing. It had been pure and white, now it was dirtied by dirt and sweat. It seemed like a metaphor for life. Everyone started innocent, but in the end, every single person was guilty in some way. Claudia let out a bitter chuckle as she shook her head. Right, back to the present, as distasteful as it was. She took off her mask, shoving it back into her pocket. Might as well go with these people for now. Not like she'd be allowed back. If she did get out, she'd take the alley took get to the abandoned building she lived, grab her supplies and dog, and go from there. "We need to move. Now." She informed the others in the room and shoving herself away from Karram. There was no point in aiding her, the wound had mostly healed except for the bullet shards still lodged in her calf. She would deal with those later, but she could walk fine now.</s>
<\|description\|>Claudia Laurel Age: 23 (Physically) 62 (In reality) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Half-Demon Physical Description: Talents: -Using Firearms -Hand to hand combat -Stalking/Sneaking -Controlling fire -Parkour -Faster Healing History: Claudia was born in 1953, into a prominent family of demons due to an affair between a demon woman and a human. Her family had wealth, power, and most important of all, reputation. Her birth was not wanted by the elders, seeing as her parents were both young, and the fact that Claudia was a half-demon, which were considered disgraces and looked down upon. Claudia's grandfather, Harriet Laurel, decided that Claudia and her father were to be executed. Claudia's mother didn't want this, and helped her daughter disappear, along with Claudia's father. They began a new life (on earth) in America as James Williams and his young daughter, Claudia Williams. Two years later, Her father was drafted into the Vietnam war at the age of twenty. Claudia was sent to live with her aunt in Virginia, and spent the next twenty years staying there, waiting for her father to return. He never did. Her family was informed of his death, and Claudia received his possessions. In a trunk was a stack of letters, mostly love letters between her mother and father. After digging through the trunk and reading the old letters, she came upon addressed to her, from her parents. The letter told her all about her heritage and why she didn't have a mother with her.Claudia had hoped to get in touch with them, but was not able to enter their world and when summoned, they rejected her because she was a 'Halfling'. Left with no where to go, she wandered until one she walked in on two people fighting. One pulled out a gun to shoot the other, and Claudia threw the nearest thing she could find at the man, which happened to her shoe. The man ran off not wanting to be seen, and the other, Tom, introduced himself. The two became quick friends, both having no where to go. They lived off the streets, and eventually joined a gang. The two became tangled in a web of crimes and violence, and Tom decide that they needed to learn to defend themselves. They became more active in the gang learning from the other members how to fight, and later how to kill. Claudia and Tom advanced from just people taken under their wing to some of the most able members. Eventually the gang was busted, and Claudia escaped with Tom. They moved to New Camden, and decided to try to lay low. It didn't work out, as they were in desperate need of money, and Claudia ended up taking jobs which weren't quite legal. She eventually got arrested for vehicular manslaughter, of all things. She was sentenced to five years in prison. When she was let out on probation, she discovered that Tom had passed away. With nothing left, Claudia became a servant for a supernatural household in the court. When Nemsemet took over, her master was killed, along with his family. Claudia was given two choices. Join his side or die. She did what she thought every sane person would have done, and chose not to die. She needed the money anyway. She now works as a servant/hitman for Nemsemet, and though she may not like it, money always comes first. And her dog. Psychological Profile: Due to her history, Claudia is very pessimistic. She doesn't believe in the whole 'heart of gold' thing, and distrusts everyone around her. She doesn't like to show emotion, believing they are weaknesses. She believes that the court and the wealthy families in New Camden are all corrupt, but also thinks that Nemsemet is the same. Claudia has two 'modes', in place of emotions. There's stoic and uncaring, and then theres angry. When taking out targets, she remains cold and collected, but her anger can be triggered easily; she is sensitive about her family, and will physically harm anyone who insults her parents. She is also angered by the social hierarchy of fullbloods and halfbloods. Although she is willing to kill in cold blood, she is not merciless. She prefers to take people out quickly and painlessly, and if you give her good reason not to do something, she'll listen to you. Although it's hard to get her to trust you, if she believes in your cause then she will remain loyal. Possessions: A silver ring, which hides her identity as a supernatural creature, given to her by her mother. Two handguns, Several knives, and a sniper rifle. Has extras at her 'home', which is actually an abandoned building. A large husky she adopted off the streets. The closest thing she's ever had to a familiar. Yes, and: Claudia met Karram when she was sent to court for vehicular manslaughter. He was one of the people who helped get her a shortened sentence. She has mixed feelings about him. On one hand, he shortened her punishment, on the other hand, he still sent her to prison. Now though, they're going to meet under much different circumstances. Karram is one of the people she has been requested to kill, so thats awkward. (I didn't really know what to do here ^, so it can be changed.)</s> <\|message\|>Parael Magnus "... And anyway Karram, so Augusts said to me, 'Think of the children Parry! Think of all the poor little supernatural children you see every day, and how they'll be left to the whims of an Egyptian High Priest who fancies himself a god just because he could walk in and kill my uncle.' So hearing that, I couldn't help but say 'You know what Augustus? I have just the thing for you.' So I went upstairs and brought down this old thing I picked up in Alexandria a while back. Not much, but it was a legit Egyptian Charm to the goddess Isis, and I handed it over and said 'This should keep you safe against old Egyptian magic.' And Augustus said 'Thank you Parry! Thank you! You're so generous and so much better dressed than I am. Why, I look like I just came out of a frat party compared to you. And you've got a baby on your hip.' So I said-" Which was the precise time Flint slammed on the other pedal, putting the car in a rapid stop, while Parry's face landed right into the driver's seat with a quiet and not very good sounding CRUNCH. Parry had to reach into his pocket for an old hankie to press against his nose with one hand while the other took a swipe at the back of Flint's head. "DON'T BRAKE SO FAST," he yelled, his voice distorted as he tried to stop the bleeding from his broken nose. He was vaguely aware of getting out of the back seat of the car and walking behind Flint and Beth, but too absorbed in his own thoughts to really care what was going on or where they were going. Without skipping a beat, he turned back to Karram the Fae. "So anyway, I said to Augustus 'Just be a doll and don't tell anyone you were here. Tony would kill me if he found out you knew we were all put up in my place. And Augustus said 'Cross my heart Parry you stud muffin.' So- oh. Oh, we're here!" 'Here' turned out to be yet another relic from a bygone era. A nuclear fallout bunker at the end of a tunnel beneath a parking garage? Parry didn't really know why all his friends were stuck in the past like they seemed to be. Rikive in the Middle Ages, Tony was perpetually reliving 'Nam, and Flint just couldn't get out of the '30s. The present was so much more fun. Couldn't Tony have set up in a Penthouse Suite instead? Parry hissed as he felt his long hair brush against a spiderweb, sending him running through the bunker's front door whimpering like a child stung by a bee. "You get this place fumigated regularly, right Tony?" He asked, pulling the bloody cloth from his face. "I mean, no bugs or anything? I had the center cleaned out once a month as a rule. If it has more than six legs it isn't fit to walk this plane." Parry stumbled into the bathroom, still chattering away as he tried to find a light switch to check his face. "I'm covered on clothes for the next day. Just point me to the nearest dry-cleaner if you can. We need to figure out a plan to go on the offensive, find some information about what Nemsemet wants with-" The sight of his nose, crooked and weeping blood, brought the shrillest, blood-curdling scream from the bathroom Parry had ever heard himself make. The mirror was broken in a spiderweb pattern, the medical supplies in the cabinet behind it spilled out onto the floor, and the Celestial threw himself out into the kitchen and grabbed Tony by the shoulders shaking him furiously. "FUCK IT! I need a plastic surgeon to fix my nose. NOW!"</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir Rikive walked around the bunker to study it and burn off the energy humming in her veins. Driving the old car had been fun and exhilerating; even with Tony in the passenger seat and shouting at her. She thought she had done well, they arrived to the location in one piece didn't they? It was a mission success in her mind. She turned her attention back to the group at the mention of clothes and looked down at her leather jacket. There was a small hole in the front where she'd been hit by that bullet and an even bigger one on the back. The dark brown leather was now stained with blood and she didn't know if it could be repaired. Too bad, she really liked the jacket. Dismissing the thought she leaned back against a wall, frowning as she began to go over the events of the attack. When she had been informed the enemy was from ancient times, some part of her had assumed he wouldn't use modern weapons. Especially since they caused such a scene to develop; either the ancient mummy hadn't known or far more likely didn't care. With that damned curse on the city preventing people that were informed from leaving or communicating with the outside world; Nemsemet could do whatever he pleased. So it stood to reason, he didn't give a rats ass about subtlety. Rikive shut her eyes and thumped her head against the wall. She was thrilled to discover her swords ability to form a shield, it had even proved effective against bullets. Clearly though, the way she had been taught to fight would not be enough if they were to go up against those weapons again. Maybe her sword could prove useful, but the old weapon wasn't giving up its secrets easily. Perhaps it was punishment for it being taken from Jötunheimr all those centuries ago. She remained quiet for a few moments, lost in thought and listening to the other's converse. So distracted by her thoughts she nearly jumped out of her skin when Parael started screaming. Fear another attack she pulled her sword from it's sheath as the scabbard transformed into a shield on her arm. It took her a moment to realize they were not under attack and huffed, willing her sheath to return to normal and sliding her sword back into it's home. She walked over to the counter and tried to dislodge Parael's hands from Tony's shoulders. "Parael I can fix your nose!" She shouted over his yelling and crying. "Calm down, I can heal it if you will release Tony." Speaking of she turned to Tony and asked, "Does this place have guns? I wish to learn to use one."</s> <\|message\|>Antonio Victor Barnes "AK's are right here," he gestured to the bag he'd stashed them in when they were coming down -- because he didn't need Bobby to see that shit and freak out, "But we'll handle that after..." he shrugged as if to point out that Parael's nose was probably a bigger concern than explaining firearms, particularly safe handling, to Sturm Und Drang. Well, the Kalashnikov was ideal in one sense. It was designed to be taught quickly to Siberian peasants. He tried to disengage Parael's hands off him so he could go over to one of the footlockers in the place -- he seemed to have more storage here than things stored, and grabbed an outfit that was essentially a copy of the first. Tony knew how to wear a suit and tie and look stylish when he was doing it, but this place wasn't set up to support his not for profit operations, it was set up with the idea of survival in mind. So he had a lot of the sort of gym clothes that lycans wore when expecting trouble, including shoes, because changing would fuck up a pair of nice dress shoes in a heartbeat. In any case, he pulled on the clothing and laid the AK's and the ammo on the table -- not much, but hey, it was there if they needed it. He waited for the healing of Parael's nose to commence before he put in his two cents. "Taking the offensive? Shit, man, I don't know. Those goons we encountered were thralls, I could smell the v-blood on them. Nemsemet might be old fashioned, but he's got at least one of the vampire elders on his side, which maybe explains why he wiped out Caradoc's court left and right -- promotion opportunities. That's the only way I can figure on so many thralls showing up well armed and with a plan like that." He drummed his fingers on the table as he took a chair, once the AK's were laid out -- they weren't exactly dirty enough to bother cleaning, yet. "Guess it depends on what you want to hit. Until we know how to kill Nemsemet, we're as bad off on odds as Augustus was. Of course, that boy was kinda dumb and entitled, but you know what I mean."</s>	<\|message\|>Claudia Laurel Claudia turned to Tony, raising an eyebrow at the nickname. She turned her attention back to the room ahead, gun raised and ready to shoot. No more goons came, which either meant that they were all dead, or they were closing in and waiting for an opportunity to attack. Most likely the latter. After a few minutes there was a string of unintelligible words from the Blonde, Parry. After that Tony left the building, and she followed, still facing the building with her gun at the ready. She listened as he gave someone directions, before turning on her heel and following him to an old-fashioned car. She guessed it was stolen by the state of its window, and the fact that the barbaric woman was at the wheel. Claudia slipped into the backseat and kept an eye outside as the man took them through the route to wherever they were going. --- They arrived not long after, heading to a garage of sorts. Tony spoke with a security guard before ordering the group to follow him. They progressed through a series of tunnels, in the dark. Not that she minded, she had frequented a few sewers as way of safe passage back in the day. She just hoped that others wouldn't do something such as scream about the filth and insects, especially that odd Parry person. They finally made it to the entrance to the bunker, and Claudia listened half-heartedly as Simba the were-lion briefed them on the state of supplies. The bunker was fine, at least in better condition than her home. Home, she had left most of her weapons as well as her dog there. She would have to go back eventually, before her place got torched like Parry's. She was brought back from her thoughts once again as the aforementioned man came running back into the living space and practically tackled Tony. Claudia slowly walked over to join the group as Rikive and Tony pried the bawling mans hands off of the lycanthropes shoulders. Eventually they succeeded and weapons were layer on the table. The conversation turned to Nemsemet, and Claudia crossed her arms over her chest as a thought occurred to her. Should she tell these people who she was and who she worked for, or used to work for, or keep it to herself. The former option lead to more danger, but maybe if she contributed it would further their efforts to get rid of Nemsemet.</s>
<\|description\|>Gray Conover Age: 31 Gender: Male Species: Human Physical Description: Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat. Talents: Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying. Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task. Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular. History: Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late. Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world. On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold. Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him. When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something. Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck. Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward. Possessions: Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge. Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down). Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool. A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife. Yes, and: Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do.</s> <\|message\|>Arachne (Assumed name: Autumn Weltich) With the door open Autumn entered. Having eyes everywhere she didn't bother much with looking around. But of course Grey did not know that. A great amount of effort went into hiding that Autumn Weltich and Arachne, Queen of Spiders were one in the same. Those in on it consisted mostly of court members that she had a hold of. If others knew then they would kill every one of her children that dared show itself. However here circumstances were quite a bit different. Both of them were not getting out of this and she needed someone she could trust. But to prevent any trouble from arising later she most likely was going to need to reveal her secret to the human before her. There were not many humans that could claim to have seen Arachne as she truly was and live to tell about it. Crossing her arms whilst listening she processed the information. Grey always did quick work and this was no exception. Autumn could trust his word over the sketchy information floating about. Part of what he said she knew already, but having confirmation was good. She nodded in reference to their previous encounter. That had been some years ago and she pulled him out of the fire then. A rare smile flashed itself across her face. Humans were always nostalgic about things. Hard to blame them with such a short life span. Casually looking around the room she waited till he finished to speak up. "Excellent work. I have noticed several of the same particulars you have. Some of our employees that are more in the know have not returned. They are trapped in here like the rest of us. I'd rather not get them involved though so I haven't contacted them. Probably best it stays that way." He spoke low which meant there wasn't much in the way od privacy here. This would not make a good place to stay for very long. They almost would be better off in a much higher end suite than down here among the rabble. But that might not be a great place to start a brood. "We are going to need a better place to stay. You're really the only one I trust enough not to kill me in my sleep. But there is something that I must show you that you may not be pleased about. But not here." Something drew her attention and she looked off to the side a bit. No one was there, but she seemed to be listening intently. "If we are going to move then now might be a good opportunity. Pack your things and make yourself presentable."</s> <\|message\|>Beth Callahan. Another concussive blast barrelled into the wall Beth hid behind. The shockwave sent even her into the street, her concentration hampered by the endless tirade of bullets and noise. Her body flickered in and out of tangibility as she rolled across the road. Bullets coursed right through her, each one starting a ripple of burns through her form. Albeit the only physical pain she was ever likely to feel again, the combination pissed her off. Enough, apparently, to set some things in motion. One of those things happened to be the nearest dumpster. Beth tossed the oversized trash can towards the origin of the bullets and used the momentary lapse in their barrage to pin her sights on the daycare center. Her spiritual spidey sense couldn't get a lock on anything, but she saw the rest of their merry band taking up arms. As soon as Flint erected a solid dirt shield, Beth darted behind it. She heard someone shouting and it took her a second to give the voice a name—Parry's telltale tone clued her in. She perked up at the sound of her name. "Making a mess is what I'm good for," she called back to him and took off. Beth took a shortcut through—literally, through—the buildings on the right side of the street and came around to the back of the shooters. She didn't bother to count them. What was the point? Numbers had no effect on the already-dead. She threw herself into the body of the closest assailant. Whoever this was, they were not wholly human. Mortal, perhaps, except it felt like they'd been tampered with. They fought the possession with a strength unfamiliar to most mortals, and dropped their semi-automatic in the process, but Beth's fifteen years of experience won out. The internal struggle only fuelled her abilities. She snatched up the gun and returned fire.</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir Rikive pulled her hand away from her injury when the pain started to fade, looking toward Parael when he shouted his plan. It was good, but what if they pursued them rather than go into the building? Flint's dirt barrier's didn't look like they held up to bullets well, much less the fiery death the enemy could rain down upon them. At her hip, Rikive felt Winterthorn begin to shake in its sheath. Blinking she shifted to look at the sword, being sure to keep her head down. The old weapon had never done anything such as this before. Untying it from her belt she pulled the sword around in front of her. She slid the blade from it's black and silver sheath, the soft ringing sound of sliding metal filling her ears over the loud gunfire. She looked at the sword, waiting for it to do something when she felt the sheath move. Her eyes snapped to it and widened, watching the scabbard turn to mist over her arm. It felt as though leather straps wrapped around her arm before the cloud of mist solidified into a black and silver round shield. For a moment she stared at the shield before shaking her head to be rid of the shock. She rolled over onto her back and lifted her shield covered arm into the air, shutting her eyes tight to brace for possible pain. She felt the impact of the bullet's into her shield but her arm remained steady. Opening her eyes she saw the bullets embedded into the surface of the shield but they hadn't broken to the other side. "Ha!" She laughed, her mouth spreading into a wide grin. "You beauty!"</s>	<\|message\|>Gray Conover Moving made sense. If this rebellious faction were paranoid enough to attack these two strangers the thin walls of this little motel room would be like paper to a beast's claws. "Thanks." He said in response to the compliment. Gray threw on his black jacket to conceal the shoulder holsters beneath and tossed the remaining loose articles into his suitcase. She was right to keep other people out of this, no need for additional corpses. Gray laughed a little as she mentioned that she trusted him enough to not kill her in her sleep. "Don't make me blush." His mood became a little heavier at the mention of something he may not like. It was mysterious. Not that he didn't know she may very well have enough information to topple a small nation. More disturbing was the fact that she wanted to share some of that with him when it wasn't her norm . Tension's rising. "I don't know if you drove in or not but I'm taking the suburban. It's got the rest of my stuff." Gray hefted the suitcase up and started on down the hall. When the suburban had quit on him as he attempted to leave it started up again when he wanted to go back into town like nothing had happened to it to begin with. Damn magic. At the exit he stopped. The all too familiar noises of explosive combat hailed his ears in the far distance. These guys had explosives. Great. Ignoring the distraction for the time being he popped the back of the suburban open and crammed the suitcase in with its sister. He had no idea who was who in this town and what sides were fighting. He was at this point a confused bystander - and man did he hate it! "I'd love to get out there." Gray shook his head with a frown. "Let's figure this mess out before they blow up the rest of the city." He got in the driver's side and made ready to take directions from Autumn. They would have to avoid the conflict for now. Unless Autumn knew who they were they'd both be in the way.</s>
<\|description\|>Gray Conover Age: 31 Gender: Male Species: Human Physical Description: Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat. Talents: Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying. Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task. Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular. History: Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late. Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world. On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold. Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him. When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something. Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck. Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward. Possessions: Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge. Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down). Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool. A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife. Yes, and: Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do.</s> <\|message\|>Arachne (Assumed name: Autumn Weltich) Making note of the change in mood she sighed slightly. Telling him who she was was not something she wanted to do. But if something happened that forced her hand and revealed her true identity it would not end well. Best not to spring that kind of thing on someone when your lives are on the line. Ready to go in a matter of minutes Autumn followed Grey to his vehicle and got into the passenger seat. In mentioning the commotion in the distance she looked at him. "And that is why we're moving. Head toward downtown for now. I'll explain a few things on the way." No doubt that Grey would just follow directions for now she sat quietly for a time. Tension was rife in those several minutes as she mulled over how to explain the situation. Grey's morals would put her pretty high on his list of monsters to eliminate, having killed countless people both personally and by association. The numerous deadly creatures she created continue to kill even now without her intervention. Finally coming to some kind of resolution in her mind she put her hands down and looked at Grey. There was apprehension in her eyes and even the slightest bit of fear. "Secrets are my business and as you could probably suspect I have several of my own. A lot of them have to do with the business I'm in. But some are closer to home, things specifically about me that I keep locked away for a reason. You are a rarity in that there are not many humans that really know of the supernatural world. I am in a position where I need someone I can trust. Part of that is not keeping secrets that can cause trouble later on." Letting that hang for a few seconds she followed with a question. "Are you familiar with the Greek legend of Arachne?" Perhaps a bit more to the point all of the sudden but she needed to know where Grey's knowledge stood. If he did know then things would be easier to explain.</s> <\|message\|>Parael Magnus This was the worst mess Parry had ever seen since retiring to the human plane. And he'd seen 32 semi-potty trained toddlers on Mountain Dew not four years ago. His house was taking artillery fire from Russian missiles, a platoon of Nemsemet's goons were unloading assault rifle rounds into the walls and windows, and here he lay on the front lawn behind a dirt barricade while the motley band of supernatural misfits alternately ran for their lives or tried to fight back. It wasn't all bad though. Between Flint's hand cannon, the Demon's pistols, and (judging by the screams out back) Tony's lycan abilities, they might just have a shot at getting out of this whole thing- Which was when he heard the whine of the rocket, in seemingly slow motion, plunging into his apartment's bedroom window up above and exploding in a massive fireball. Bits of metal paneling, bricks and glass showered down onto everyone outside the building (including Parry) who continued to stare up at the gaping, burning hole in the building. "My clothes..." Parry whimpered, a tear forming in his eye. "All my clothes... and my scented candles... and my iPhone collection..." Now Parry may once have been a Celestial, a being of goodness, order, and devotion whose very existence was meant to keep the universe in line, protecting the innocent and doing no wrong. He served at the pleasure of the divine spark, being a total Tool for the forces of Light. But that hadn't lasted through the silk boom of the 1400s. Parry was now the most self-absorbed, materialistic and hedonistic motherfucker in the whole goddamn city of Camden. He ate fashion magazines, dreamed of walking the runway, and bagged every "stud muffin" he could convince to come back to his place on a Saturday night. So when he rolled onto his knees behind Flint's crumbling earthen barricade, eyes twitching in absolute rage and starlight forming in his hands, he was nothing short of a fucking mess. "This is for GUCCI!" He screamed, hurling a bolt at one of the gunmen across the street. The ball of gold light struck the vampire thrall square in the chest, forcing him to drop the AK in his arms as his clothes were consumed by fire. "AND YOU, BITCH!" He screamed, backing up to the front door to the daycare. "THIS IS FOR ARMANI!" The thrall woman, hefting a rocket launcher over one arm, caught a blast straight to the face as she turned to see the source of the shrill yell. Her eyeballs melting and shirt on fire, she dropped to the ground, rolling in the concrete to put out the flames. "MOTHERFUCKING CHANEL!" Which was right when someone, Parry wasn't sure who, grabbed him by the arm and hauled his ass back inside the building as a rocket landed not ten feet from where he'd been standing. And when he landed on his Prada diaper bag, that mad, fashion induced berzerker fury disappeared from Parry's eyes. "Oh. That's right. I always keep all my iPhones in here." Parry reached one arm deep into the bag and pulled out a gold 5s and a silver 6 Plus. "We're good everyone! I've still got my phone collection! Tony? Tony, where'd you go?"</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir Rikive was rising to her knees with her newly formed shield between her and the gun fire when another explosion rocked the building. She flinched, but kept her shield where it was as she rose up to her feet, looking toward the backdoor where the lawman had gone. Where is Parael? That question answered itself when she heard him yelling at the front of the building. "Oh no." She quickly ran to the door and watched with wide eyes as Parael laid waste to the ranks of their attackers. She had never seen him so angry before and she had certainly never seen him use his powers in such a way. It was frightening at the same time it was awe inspiring. She snapped from her amazement when she heard another horrific shriek fill the air. She lunged forward and grabbed Parael, pulling him back inside and onto the ground. She crouched in front of him with her shield protecting them from the debris of the blast. At his voice returning to normal she turned her head and gave him a flat look. His moods often changed so quickly and starkly, she truly wondered about the ancient beings sanity. "Out back." She informed him, pointing toward the door way. She heard wood begin to crack and she looked up with wide eyes. "MOVE!" She shouted, trying to keep at a crouch as she made to grab Parael's arm so they could quickly flee the building before it fell onto their heads.</s>	<\|message\|>Gray Conover The patter and boom of conflict sounded through the windows. Gray's attention was slightly distracted as he drove. Several times he shifted his gaze to the source of the sound as they drove to make sure they weren't in immediate danger. They were heading downtown at Autumn's direction. Autumn spoke over the distant gunfire. She sounded like she was trying to butter him up with basic info he knew for some big secret. Gray responded to the question. "Yeah. I know the myths." He glanced briefly at her just enough to see the hesitation in her face. "Arachne was cursed by the gods like Medusa was. Pissed them off really bad. Some perfect gods they were to lose their cool that easy." He trailed off, again looking at some movement on the side of the road. "Is that who we're gunning for? Is Arachne behind this?" He assumed.</s>
<\|description\|>Gray Conover Age: 31 Gender: Male Species: Human Physical Description: Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat. Talents: Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying. Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task. Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular. History: Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late. Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world. On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold. Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him. When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something. Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck. Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward. Possessions: Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge. Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down). Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool. A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife. Yes, and: Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do.</s> <\|message\|>Arachne (Assumed name: Autumn Weltich) It didn't take long for those inside to notice their arrival. It made Autumn curious as to which one caught them first. The door hadn't even opened before a voice echoed out. So they had a spirit among them it seemed. The snide comment about not buying anything was only moderately amusing to her, children. "Judging by the display up top I would say that you could very much use my services. I do not tolerate such carelessness. Had I gotten to you sooner you would not have been caught off guard by simple thralls." Her usual pleasantries died away when it came to business. But before anything else could be said Parael had opened the door and stuck his head out. The Celestial's face had seen better days. Given their previous encounter it no doubt caused him more pain to have it damaged than any actual physical displeasure. He was an eccentric and vain beyond any other she had the misfortune to encounter with exception of actual gods. Behind which were the rest of the misfits. Unsurprisingly everyone inside was antsy. Was bringing along Gray a mistake? Perhaps. But it would look rather out of place for her to just show up alone given the circumstances New Camden was in. Fortunately she didn't really worry about her associate being too brash just yet. This was her territory and that meant she was in charge. A question was raised about if she was who she appeared to be. The burden of proof rested between her and Parael, referencing the time she had been asked to haul him out of jail. To say it wasn't something she remembered would be a lie. It was one of the few case works that she dealt with herself while "working her way up the ladder." A formality simply to keep up appearances. Normally she would have blow off such a question but given that everyone was poised to attack she sighed and rolled her eyed toward the ceiling. "You had a matching ruby red velvet designer outfit. The jacket barely fit you and looked like it was trying to jump off your body. Small yellow flowers were embroidered all around it and a large red flower of the same material was sewn on your left shoulder. The cuffs were Faux Fur, same ruby color, which made you look even more ridiculous in you cell. I believe you said it was a Renato Balestra original and the only of its kind. As I recall the police report read 'Disturbing the Peace.' The owner though said that you were drawing clientele away and had a meltdown when a red wine had been spilled on you." Pointing toward her foot she made one last note. "You made it expressly clear to point out the dime sized stain on the hem of your pants to me many, many times." Despite the mounting hostilities she kept a cool demeanor and made very little effort to hide her confidence. Either she worked extremely well under pressure or felt no need to be intimidated by them. Leaning to one side she smiled to one in the background. "Oh and Karram. You're lucky that you don't still work for me. Fraternizing with former clients is strictly against 'company' policy." Of course only the one that the comment was directed toward would understand. As part of the agreement with the courts the employees were to stay well away from those they represented afterward. Terrible, mysterious things would happen to those that didn't follow that rule.</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir Rikive glanced over at Tony when he growled his warning about the presence of silver and a 'Hunter'. She couldn't see the man he spoke of from where she was in the room, but the lycanthropes were infamous for there sense of smell. While silver wasn't a threat to her, it was made obvious earlier that any small bit of metal slicing through the air at highspeeds was enough to hurt her. She also never had the displeasure of meeting a Hunter, but she had heard enough horror stories from other's to feel suitably wary. Even if they were normal mortals. "I want to know how they found us." She muttered. As Parael posed his question and the woman responded Rikive pressed her lips into a thin line. The muscles in her jaw ticking for a few moments before she lost her inner battle. She started laughing. A full belly laugh at that, her stomach muscles were starting to hurt as the light sound poured from her lips. She knew this was an extremely inappropriate time to be laughing. The very disorganized group was on the run and hiding from the demonic ancient taking control of the city. Their base was already possibly compromised depending on how in the Nine Worlds the two people outside found them...But she couldn't help it. In her mind she could very easily picture Parael, sitting in a small jail cell either crying or pouting because of the stain on his clothes. And that would be the only reason he would be upset, he wouldn't have given a damn about being arrested. Just that his coat had a small spot of wine on it. And it was red wine, on a red coat! Yes, it certainly sounded like this woman had met Parael. Reigning in her laughter she tried to grow serious once again. She could tease him about it later. And she very well intended too after the grief he gave her for being arrested herself.</s> <\|message\|>Parael Magnus Parry stood at the ready, recounting the experience as best he could. To be truthful, he only remembered waking up in the holding cell, sloshed out of his mind, with Autumn on hand to bail him out courtesy of de Lacy himself. And he did have a face ravaged by tears over the outfit that had been ruined in whatever kerfuffle he'd been involved in. That one-of-a-kind suit had been tossed when the dry cleaner had pronounced it dead on arrival. "Hey Autumn! How's the practice?" Parry bubbled, opening the door wider for her. "Guys, this is Autumn. She bailed me out of jail once in New York City. A lovely gem of a lawyer. And... oooooooh, who's the stud muffin you brought with you, hm?"</s> <\|message\|>Beth Callahan. Not a moment passed between Beth uttering her greeting and the woman opposite her responding before the door opened by just a few inches and Parael's face poked out, closely followed by Flint's. No doubt he still had the gun in his hand behind the door. Beth threw up her hands and rolled her eyes. Really, did these people have no tact? No matter, should the mortal bodyguard attempt to get by, she would turn tangible again. She folded her arms and watched the exchange, not for a second appreciating this woman's authoritative tone. No one ruled the roost here. Not any more. She respected de Lacy's authority because the system, as unstable as it was sometimes, worked for the most part. He kept supernaturals in check and gave them somewhere to go, so long as they didn't cross him. For Beth, he'd given her a future beyond death. What had Autumn done for them? And her wording -- tolerate, carelessness? She must have wanted to piss everyone off. At least her story about meeting Parry was entertaining. Staring through narrowed eyes at the woman, Beth waited for Parael to confirm her story. Once he did, however, a laugh broke through the small gap in the door. A rich and jolly laugh that, if she had a body, might make her skin tingle with excitement. Never before had she heard it, but she attributed it to Rikive nonetheless. Though Beth did her best not to smile, the corners of her ghostly mouth twitched upwards. She tried countering it with a scowl. The moment Parael opened the door, the humour fell flat. "What is it you think you can do?" she asked Autumn, ignoring the mortal and Parry's question regarding him. "Unless you know exactly how to kill the mummy, you're on the same level as we are."</s>	<\|message\|>Gray Conover Even eldritch horrors didn't produce the kind of revulsion that Gray suddenly had for this gender-bending creature before them. The hunter shuddered, wishing he could say to Autumn, 'It looks dangerous, can I shoot it?'. He liked money though and that would probably endanger his paycheck. The commotion behind the door of murmuring and suddenly mirthful laughter made this place feel more like the sub entrance to a psych ward. Were these guys going to be allies? Not exactly his first pick. "I'm Gray. I specialize in killing things that don't like staying dead. What's this about a mummy?" Despite being unable to see the ghost it wasn't uncommon to try holding a conversation.</s>
<\|description\|>Gray Conover Age: 31 Gender: Male Species: Human Physical Description: Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat. Talents: Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying. Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task. Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular. History: Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late. Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world. On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold. Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him. When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something. Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck. Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward. Possessions: Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge. Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down). Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool. A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife. Yes, and: Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do.</s> <\|message\|>Antonio Victor Barnes When the humans boiled, out, Tony decided that the situation was screwed and they better hit while the chaos was happening. But he told Autumn first, "Shieldmaiden and I are hitting the front door. Tell the others that the plan is hosed, do whatever they can." He added, even as he pulled off the jump suit, going down to shirts and a wifebeater, "Incidentally, you might want to tell your hunter to go easy on the silver. I'm the only lycan in this bitch and if he shoots me, he might not be able to escape, because the vampires are going to get him after he gets me. There's an AK in the van, lever down all the way for rock n' roll because the thralls are packing. Short, controlled bursts, you got it?" He didn't like leaving his back to a hunter. Not at all. And he didn't like it. Not one little bit. It was funny that Rivike managed to create a stir all of her own as she got to Parael first, but while they focused in on her, Tony made his way into the club, stiff-arming and pushing his way past panicking mortals while yelling, "Terrorist attack! Chechens are on a rampage!" in a spin that the Court would have appreciated back in the day -- with all the fucking Russian types running around, that made total sense, especially after the Boston Marathon bombings. But once it was down to vampires and thralls, the latter of who couldn't smell a lycan, he changed is tactics; the thing was, the thralls weren't sure what the hell was going on, so they were confused and it was easy to slip past them. But as soon as he pushed into the vampire club behind the restaurant. When he finally did encounter a vamp, snarling obscenely and not even realizing that he wasn't some vamper out for the happy juice out of a Celestial, he yelled, "GET PARAEL OUT NOW!" and he shifted rapidly and brutally, prying two sets of fingers into the vamp's head, and tearing off the jaw in one brutal motion. It got pretty chaotic from there on out. Once in man-beast, he ran on a great deal more instinct than intellect in this form, and it was hard to necessarily distinguish friend from foe when the hormones were flowing the way he did, as the thrill of killing and struggle overtook him. A vampire could certainly relate, but that was perhaps why Lycans and vampires detested each other so. Most of them had, perhaps, dealt with the wolves before, but never quite so close quarter -- when the celestial blood entered the place, the vampires got sloppy in the throes of their great thirst and desire, and the thralls were, quite frankly, not the first line of defense in these situations anyway. Still, it wasn't quite so easy as just ripping a couple thralls. The next vampire fought fast too, striking, using a table leg as an improvised weapon, bringing its muscle and speed into play. It was true that a lycanthrope was a nasty customer for a vampire, and probably the match for a couple in a toe to toe fight, and it was also true that Tony, possibly the only big cat running around town, was actually a good bit scarier than even some of the wolves, probably was good for a couple more. But there must have been fifty or so vampires in the room. Even more thralls. That was just too much, especially if they did recover their wits and start organizing.</s> <\|message\|>Flint White "I'll take your word for it" Flint said, as he noticed the Cinema explode into a frenzy of mortals ."Well the shit has hit the fan" Flint was soon outside the vehicle and to the boot of the car, inside he grabbed his beloved Thompson and racked the slide. "Ok stay beside me, I've got the range covered, but if they get close enough to caress my hair I'll need you on point" The orders where directed towards Karrem, and before he gave him chance to respond Flint was on the move towards the club. When he got to the entrance he saw the chaos unfold, vampires and thralls in troves as Parry lay bloody. Rikive thought with her sword and yelled something Flint could not hear. Tony was slashing and ripping people a part. Flint took a swig from his bottle and smashed it onto the floor by his feet. He was back in the 20's, the enemy gang drinking and brawling in front of him. He was the leader of the Booze Hounds, and he began to clean up. Flint fired from the hip, the gun in one hand as he began to light up fireballs in his left. The recoil was controlled, and the gun hit its mark as vampires and thralls where spattered by .45 calibre fire. In ten seconds the entire 100 round magazine was empty, the bodies of the men he had shot barely had hit the ground before the Thompson was dropped and his right hand erupted in flame. Flint aimed his two hands at the crowd and a wave of orange flame erupted over the masses, he hoped his comrades would be safe from the blast but his main concern was causing as much damage and as much panic that the Vampires would think they were up against an army of flame thrower wielding, machine gun toting bad asses. Instead of the ragtag group of sword wielders, drunks, monsters and the rest of the motley crew.</s>	<\|message\|>Gray Conover Half-tempted to grab his shotgun he reasoned there was another way. In the gym bag in his left hand were items meant to help him capture a vampire but they would certainly be good enough to disrupt the crowd given the right combination. He dropped the bag and unzipped it, sifting through several items, metal bat, wood stake, towels, - there it was. He pulled an aerosol can out of the bag followed by a towel and tied it hastily around the can, creating a makeshift sling. Out of a pouch he retrieved a lighter and lit the bottom. Gray didn't smoke but man did a lighter come in handy. He walked toward the Rusty Steak Knife as the towel burned, picking up heating and volume. With one good swing he shot it over the heads of his companions and into a group of surprised denizens. As the can impacted the pressure and heat caused it to burst outwards in flames catching clothing and skin alight and making for some impressive pyrotechnics from such a small object. Though not necessarily to an immortal foe it was one hell of a painful deterrent to buy the others some time. To further support the others Gray drew a Glock and started firing three-shot bursts into the wings of the vampire group that threatened to surround his retreating allies. They would need to get to the cars fast. Even outrunning vampires here could prove challenging. And then Flint showed everyone why Gray loved weapons with large magazines. Then he made the hunter's pyro trick look like a cheap match.</s>
<\|description\|>Gray Conover Age: 31 Gender: Male Species: Human Physical Description: Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat. Talents: Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying. Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task. Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular. History: Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late. Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world. On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold. Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him. When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something. Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck. Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward. Possessions: Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge. Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down). Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool. A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife. Yes, and: Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do.</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover This whole thing was absolute chaos. These morons had the organization of domesticated cows. The only real reason they were getting this far was because of their inherent powers. Gray shook his head slightly as he listened to August. Surely she was thinking the same thing. Slipping a hand to another pouch he pulled out a small push-syringe of a dark muddled liquid and approached their captive. "Hold her steady. I don't want to miss or this will hurt more than it needs to."</s> <\|message\|>Kaori Lyle Kaori felt a force hit her out of thin air. It was enough to knock her to the floor onto her back, her blade escaping her grasp. Her glowing eyes blinked, looking up at the face of a plain looking girl. Briefly, Kaori considered the multiple ways she could punish her for getting in her way: a bullet to the belly, the blade through the chest, or a bite to her unprotected neck. But the exchange that occurred in the next moments made her pause. They were discussing her kidnapping, she realized, as a taser changed hands. It didn't frighten or concern her as much as it confused her. From the scent of these three creatures - and the unmistakable stench of wild cat in the air - she could tell that this was little more than a rebel group of misplaced beings. But she couldn't fathom what logic would prompt them to attack a vampire coven with no real knowledge or organization, and then try to take one home. Idiocy. The girl tried to pull Kaori to her feet. Like hell you're taking me anywhere... But she stood. Even she, a creature of chaos, could feel the turmoil around her getting out of hand. There was gunfire, and a seemingly continuous low rumble of growls and snarls. It wouldn't end, not when these attackers were so clearly outnumbered and unprepared, yet annoyingly persistent. It would be destruction, if not within, then when another group of Nemsemet's vampire subordinates caught word. She needed to leave. She allowed herself to be lead from the building by a pair of insignificant hands around her wrists. Not particularly strong, she noted. Yet, the girl handled her unnecessarily roughly, seeing as she hadn't made an effort to resist just yet. Kaori felt a sense of rage building, desperate to snap and tear her captor down. Wait, she reminded herself. Acting now would only invite the reciprocation of her whole party. Despite how capable she believed herself to be, it would be more difficult to escape multiples versus just one. Also, she had no way of knowing exactly what form of creatures accompanied her, or their strength. She found herself pressed to a wall with the dinky device pressed against her abdomen. This seemed to be as far as the girl was going to take her for now. This would have to do. "Tony and Flint need rescuing! How soon can you get there?" the plain girl said. Kaori noted how her eyes never left her face. She couldn't help but spread her lips in an amused grin. Her face wasn't where the danger was. "Hold her steady. I don't want to miss or this will hurt more than it needs to." Her eyes darted to the voice. That scent. A low rumble rolled in her chest. She knew that scent. She took a second, maybe two, to take in the closer view of what must have been a hunter. He didn't look strong, not particularly intimidating. Yet somehow, he had stolen her kill once. In a way, that made it more offensive. She also caught the glint of a strange syringe in his hand. Not good. She didn't need to know what was in it to decide that she didn't want it in her body. The girl had 'secured' the vampires wrists with her own hands. What happened next took place in seconds. Kaori took hold of the girls wrist which had been vulnerable just by being so close to her grasp. She tugged her forward with a sharp jerk, turning in the same movement to rotate and deliver a kick to the back of her knees. The force should be enough to knock the girl from her feet and send her crashing into the wall. With a fling of a hand, she send a small blade slicing through the air towards the hunter with the syringe. It was well aimed, but she suspected he would find a way to dodge it. Kaori was gone before she could find out. She took a few running strides down the sidewalk, and made a sharp turn into a shady looking ally way. From there, she lauched herself up, gripping the lower rungs of a fire-escape ladder. She climbed - or sprung - upwards until she hit the roof. She took off, her speed paying off as she hopped from one roof-top to the next, clearing about three before the attackers below should have a chance to respond.</s>	<\|message\|>Gray Conover The hidden blade that flew at Gray's face was a bit of a surprise. He twisted to the side and deflected it by raising his right arm. It scratched at his armored forearm before clattering to the ground. She was fast and strong, quickly breaking the hold Beth had on her and slipping away into the darkness. Leave it to the disembodied spirit to hold someone down! Catch her or subdue the would-be lord surrounded by his minions? Gray took the easier option. He didn't have time to retrieve his shotgun if he wanted to catch her which alone would be a tricky feat. Instead he picked up the gym bag that still lay close on the ground and started sprinting after her. It was a good thing he wasn't a particularly big guy because that would make running a lot harder. Scaling the fire escape to follow her on the roof was not a feasible option. Plus it led right into any trap she could lay. Gray ran through the alleys below trying to head her off from the ground. This was unfamiliar terrain, he was disadvantaged but it would be better than trying to out-climb something as feral as a vampire. He slowed his pace in order to listen to the movements above. These buildings were thankfully only a few stories high so he could still hear footsteps as she ran atop the roofs. If she got any further away he might lose her. Good thing the block was about to end. Hope she can't leap fifty feet or this would be one hell of a chase.</s>
<\|description\|>Gray Conover Age: 31 Gender: Male Species: Human Physical Description: Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat. Talents: Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying. Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task. Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular. History: Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late. Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world. On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold. Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him. When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something. Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck. Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward. Possessions: Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge. Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down). Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool. A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife. Yes, and: Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do.</s> <\|message\|>Karram Sylian Could any aspect of this mission go as planned? The thought made Karram's head ache like before. The winged angel version of Parael was flying around wielding god knows what kind of mystical blade, Flint and Tony were down for the count, and now the vampire hostage was on the run. Karram wanted to face-palm but felt it better to tag along with Beth and Gray as they pursued their desired target. The vampire was skilled and experienced. But Karram calculated that the three of them together would be enough to capture her, so long as no additional surprises sprang out of nowhere. Karram watched as Beth manipulated trash cans and bottles and glass pieces, hurling them at the roof runner with great precision. Then she yelled at Gray and sent him flying onto a rooftop nearer to their target. "I'll back him up!" Karram spread his ethereal wings and zipped past Beth heading upward to assist Gray as he landed. By darting to the vampire's rear, he and Gray would have her flanked. As he flew, he drew his dagger and prepared to throw it to the side of the vamp's feet to hopefully halt her from changing course. With that, he reached the target and aimed the dagger at her feet. He stopped on a dime, hovering a few feet back from her. Karram noted a nearby tree on the street corner at the end of the rooftop. Could be a useful tactic if she attempts to run again... he thought to himself before turning his attention back to the female vampire. His sword was drawn still and he wore a determined expression as he stared at her back. "Why don't you stop running, okay?" Karram could see Gray was still holding onto the mystery bag of goodies. Hopefully something in there was strong enough to put their vampire friend here down for a bit. If not, Karram may have to delve into his repertoire of sleep-inducing magic and see if that works.</s> <\|message\|>Kaori Lyle Kaori had sprinted from rooftop to rooftop gracefully, like a bird soaring in the air. The darkly colored silk robe she wore trailed behind her in the night like a cape, its floral design catching the glint of moonlight every so often. She gained speed as she went, skipping and leaping over the gaps between buildings until she finally came to the end of the block. She stopped short of the ledge. Looking across the street to the next rooftop, she knew she was unlikely to make a jump that far. It would be foolish to attempt it, and would likely slow her down even more if she tumbled and broke a leg. It would heal, but she didn't have time to wait. The sound of foot-steps and bated breath alerted her to the pursuit coming up behind her from below. Three pounding heartbeats, she counted. And again, the distinct scent of the hunter who had stolen her prey. Her own pulse pounded in her ears. Long, delicate fingers curled into fists at her sides as she considered the ways she might correct that wrong. Within the medley of noise in her head, she experienced the unsettling feeling of one sound giving out. It was the same sort of sensation that occurred when one side of a pair of headphones stopped working. She refocused to realize that the running steps below had come to halt. Dammit. I have to keep moving. Just as she began to move towards the ledge, considering swinging down and finding an open window into the building, she caught movement in the corner of her eye. Kaori swerved to the side instinctually, narrowly avoiding a trash can and a line of randomized junk that had come flying with it. Her eyes darted to the direction it had come from, catching the slightest glint of light on a number of small shards of glass slicing through the air. She hit the ground. Normally, she might try to deflect it, or outrun it. Glass wouldn't kill her. It would, however, permanently damage the robe that had belonged to her deceased mother. Kaori pressed her hand to the back of her head to protect her long hair as well. Her dark locks had suffered enough damage for the night. She felt the slightest pinch when one shard nicked the back of her hand as it sailed by. She could hear yelling on the street below. She recognized the voice of the plain female, "If you have anything useful in that bag of yours, now is the time!" Kaori stood again, bracing herself for what was to come next. It was a surprise to see the hunter land before her. "You," she hissed. It was difficult to say what Kaori actually felt concerning the hunter. It was an odd sense of predatory obsession. She was only absently aware of the sound of beating wings behind her. With each breath she took, she was reminded of the night she had first encountered the hunter. She had never forgotten that scent. It nearly pushed her to leap from where she stood to tackle him to the ground. But she stayed still. They had her flanked. Her narrowed eyes - an unsettling contrast to the smooth femininity of her features - never left the face of the hunter. She studied him, as if she were trying to read a very dense book. "What do you want with me?" she finally asked. In the back of her mind, she contemplated the ways she might escape. Speed, and the nighttime shadow would be on her side. Yet, her curiosity over this brazen human kept her rooted.</s>	<\|message\|>Gray Conover The feeling of euphoria that came from being lifted off the ground with absolutely no control over your destination was exquisite. Flying through the air after some trash was anything but graceful. He choked off a gasp as he was hurled to the roof of the building from street level. It was like falling in reverse and in this case Gray liked gravity to stay in one direction. He stumbled a landing in his quarry's path. "If you have anything useful in that bag of yours, now is the time!" Apparently this was Beth's idea. Well, better than chasing on the street until he got tired and she escaped. He'd have to explain in vivid details what he thought of being surprised like that though. Gray's expression went from surprised to a wry smile like the guy at the poker table who just can't help how great his hand is. The gym bag was still clutched in his left hand and slightly unzipped, ready to pull something out of. The vampire's acute sense of smell would tell her that there was a hint of corrosive chemicals in there as well as some metal. As Karram drew closer from behind he tried to talk her down from running. The vampiress seemed much more interested in Gray, like somehow she knew him and he'd offended her. So he responded to her in kind. "Look I have no idea how you know me but I will answer that question. Sorry to say this is not about you. It's all about your recent neighbor. Calls himself Nemsemet." He prepared to reach into the bag. A feat she more likely would notice as he continued. "We're not in an asking mood. Help us out by coming with us. If not you get to see what's in the bag." And she would get to meet Karram.</s>
<\|description\|>Gray Conover Age: 31 Gender: Male Species: Human Physical Description: Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat. Talents: Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying. Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task. Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular. History: Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late. Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world. On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold. Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him. When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something. Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck. Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward. Possessions: Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge. Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down). Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool. A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife. Yes, and: Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do.</s> <\|message\|>Flint White Flint began to awake, the ground below him felt like it was shaking and his head was pounding. Oh wait, it was moving, he was in the back of the van, and his head was slamming every so often against the hard metal sides. Groggily, he began to rise from his slumped position. "That's what you get for using your powers too much" He thought to himself as he began to piece together what had happened. He was bellowing flames, then he went to go help Tony. Then… he couldn't remember after that. He focused his eyes and noticed Parry, being hugged by Rikive, and remembered what had happened before he had entered the building. It was as if his tiredness had melted away, his mind cleared and he stood up. He felt refreshed and energised as he looked towards parry. "Hey Parael". He said cheerily, to get his attention. When he turned, Flint's fist crunched hard into the celestials face. Parry would know that they were even now, and so Flint sat back down, removing his large jacket. Sweat stained his white shirt and the shoulder holster was visibly empty. He must have dropped his hand-cannon when he passed out and this made Flint even more infuriated. He unbuttoned his shirt to inspect the bruises and cuts covering his chest and sides. Nothing too damaging, but enough to sting when he inhaled. Flint patted for his whiskey bottle, but remembered he had smashed it onto the floor before unloading his tommy-gun into the club. This just wasn't Flint's day.</s> <\|message\|>Parael Magnus Of all the people in the van who could berate him for what he'd done, Parry found himself flinching more and more with every word Rikive shouted at him. Like a kicked puppy, his smoldering eyes were cast down to the floor of the vehicle, losing their ambient glow until they returned to Parry's natural baby blue color, and even then were positively dejected. Parry was ready for Tony, Flint, Autumn, everyone to name him a liability and cast him out as a pariah for what he'd done, but losing Rikive's friendship would hurt him the absolute most of all. So when Rikive squeezed Parry in an almost tackle-hug, he breathed in a sigh of relief and his own breath caught in his throat. So he just hugged her back as hard as he could, one hand patting her own shoulder. "I'm sorry," Parry said, squeezing hard. "I'm really, really sorry hon. I found some stuff out but it wasn't worth putting you all in danger." Parry released Rikive just long enough to turn toward Flint, his eyes brightening once again as he saw the perpetually well-dressed-for-a-bygone-era detective wizard. "Hey Flint!" CRUNCH! ------------------------------------- Billy Rikker's feeding frenzy was interrupted by the loudest, shrillest, most ear splitting noise he had ever heard in his century of living. It reminded him of the shrieking a spoiled toddler would make when denied the flashiest, prettiest, most expensive toy in the toy store and goddammit, she was gonna get that toy if it meant she would have to make a scene that would shame her parents for all eternity. So while the noise successfully broke the trance the close circle of vampires had been in while lapping the blood from the carpet, their super senses were picking up the sound as nails-on-a-chalkboard centimeters from where they stood. Suddenly his whole surviving clan was on the floor, clawing at their ears to get the noise to stop while up and down the street, car alarms for Mercedes, Lincolns, Bugattis and other half-million dollar vehicles activated their anti-theft mechanisms. ------------------------------------- Parry was knocked flat on his ass by Flint's punch, his nose once again collapsed. But he could absolutely feel that it was not where it was supposed to be, and Rikive, even if she were so inclined, wouldn't be able to heal him for a while after pulling both Parry and Flint back from the brink in such a short period of time. Parry had seen toddlers melt down from having scraped knees and other boo-boos. So he was emulating the best as he cried like a baby over his precious nose, the tires of the van squeeling away as they shot off to find Gray and Beth, Parry the Angel, slayer of Demons, protector of the innocent, semi-immortal warrior and self-professed hedonist kicked and screamed, holding his face, and only barely resisted the urge to say 'MOMMY! HE HIT ME!'</s> <\|message\|>Kaori Lyle "We're not in an asking mood..." She was enraged, and yet she almost had to laugh. Don't I feel like a lady. She was completely engaged with the hunter. "Do you honestly believe I would willingly help you against Nemsemet?" She gave an unbelieving shake of her head. Even as she glared at him, her wine-colored eyes carried warm undertones. As if it were the only part of her being that might still be human. Her icy tone was a stark contrast. Each word felt like a bite at the air, "You're incredibly foolish, human. You assault my people, and then you invite me to my own death." She paused, her head tilting as her eyes dipped low for a brief moment, judging his profile. "You don't even know what you're asking," she dismissively stated. And you didn't even say 'please.' Vaguely, she was aware of the presence behind her. She wasn't quite sure the nature of being he was, but she had surprise on her side. This hunter - human - would never be able to match her speed quickly enough to defend himself in a significant way. It was unlikely that she was going to get out of here unscathed, but she might as well enjoy the fight. After all, she was a creature of violence, and she didn't like his attitude. Seconds after the last word left her lips, she kicked off of the rooftop. She sprung from her place so quickly, it was almost a blur. Her body collided with the hunter. All of the concentrated - and complicated - fury she felt towards him exploded from her as she tackled him to the ground with a animalistic snarl. Her attack wasn't coordinated or thought through like her actions of evasion had been. This was purely instinctual. Now that she was close, so close she feel his pulse through his flesh, his scent was intoxicating. It made her lightheaded, but it didn't matter, because she didn't plan to resist the urge to part her lips and bury her teeth into the flesh around his shoulder. With a final draw of his aroma, she did just that, piercing the skin in search of crimson heat.</s>	<\|message\|>Gray Conover The vampiress had lunged with such speed and ferocity that it was too fast for him to react. She grabbed hold of him and the two tumbled across the roof until she had him pinned. He had lost hold of the bag as they rolled, some of the contents spilling onto the roof. Visible was a long metal spike, a metal bat still half-concealed by the bag, and an aerosol can. A set of fangs pricked his shoulder. It would have been more painful if he weren't already full of adrenaline. Gray moved his left hand quickly to draw the syringe from its place in his front pocket while drawing a Glock with his right, the same arm she was now drinking his lifeblood from. She in her fury smacked the syringe from his hand, pinned his arm and continued to draw from him. It clattered to the side. With his handgun he started to unload the magazine into her abdomen while using the painful opportunity to shove her off of him. Her teeth tore a chunk from his shoulder. She definitely looked more the monster now. He rolled to side to the closest equipment - the bag. What he grabbed was the metal spike. Sure, special wood could kill a vampire. He didn't want to kill her though. He wanted to paralyze her and if the syringe wouldn't work then filling her heart with some cold metal would. If this didn't work he may have to behead her and abandon the information before she leeched more of his life away.</s>
<\|description\|>Gray Conover Age: 31 Gender: Male Species: Human Physical Description: Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat. Talents: Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying. Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task. Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular. History: Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late. Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world. On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold. Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him. When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something. Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck. Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward. Possessions: Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge. Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down). Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool. A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife. Yes, and: Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do.</s> <\|message\|>Kaori Lyle It was always an unusual experience when a vampire's prey was left standing. When they died, it was simple. They ceased to be, and all of their life became your own. However, when they lived on, the connection between a vampire and her prey could become...complex. On occasion, downright supernatural. It all depended on the strength of the individual bond. There would often be some sort of emotional connection, or fixation that spawned out of the personal feelings of the vampire herself. A mild attraction to a prey could become full-blown infatuation. Such situations usually ended in destruction. For Kaori, the ugly mass of feelings she harbored toward the hunter took on a new edge. She now had a keen sense for him. His scent, even more prominent than before, could slice through a room of heated mortals like a beacon. His action spurred her to reaction, stoked the vicious flame of her emotion in an antagonistic way. So when he condescendingly addressed her as "little lady," it was all she could do not to leap across the room and rip his throat out. These connections, after all, were not typically positive. "Gray Conover," she repeated. The name rolled across her tongue like an ocean wave, smooth and powerfully possessive, "I've always tried not to name my food." That last line seemed a little too taunting to be delivered in such a pleasing voice. It contrasted in a rather disturbing way. She couldn't help herself. He had recently become the favored mouse to her cat. "This city doesn't need a mortal to save it, especially one that doesn't know what he's dealing with," there was nothing teasing about that statement. It was painfully obvious in her red-wine eyes. She gave a small, weary shake of her head against the wall as her eyes flitted towards the hallway where footsteps sounded ahead of not-so-distant conversation. "Don't you realize your own people don't even trust you?" she said, referencing to the comment Beth had made about her interrogation to the group in the other room. "Why would I trust you with my name?" By now, the dank room was full of varying supernatural beings. She shifted uneasily under the weight of so many eyes. She felt trapped, as they had intended her to be. Whatever concoction they had injected her with still lingered in her system with an oppressive grip. Slowly, she was healing, with her strength gradually returning. But for now, she was cornered, bound with her back to the wall. Even if she could break the rope in her weakened state, where would she go from there? In her scheming, she inhaled the room around her, trying to get an idea of who she was dealing with. Her body instinctually tensed at the scent of lycan, her smooth features wrinkling in distaste, "I didn't realize you kept a house-cat," she dryly remarked. To her, it was akin to the unpleasant smell of wet dog.</s> <\|message\|>Beth Callahan. With the instatement of Rikive as their for-the-time-being "leader" -- Beth was not exactly fond of the term, she had to steel her tongue just to say it -- the question arose as to who would rule the Court if by some miracle they deposed Nemsemet. On the slim chance they did succeed, opportunities came in abundance for each of them. But Beth, as soon as her mind began to wander, cast the thoughts of such things out, at least until their efforts proved useful. She stood tense behind the hunter in the interrogation room. She didn't need a body to feel the unease that shifted through the room at Gray's words. Something about him, aside from his occupation, disagreed with her. Whatever it was would have to be dealt with another time; they needed answers. Beth despised feeling empty-handed. Her best work required information, even the slightest tid-bit helped form a plan of action. As of this moment, she faced a blank canvas. Beth glanced at the doorway when she heard Parael's distant shouts, narrowing her eyes until Flint left and she saw Rikive pass on her way to follow. Parry wasn't one to cry into his pillow after a few verbal beat downs. Whatever summoned his panic came from somewhere, or something unknown... But that didn't put out the small pyre of guilt burning in the back of Beth's mind, should she have contributing to worsening whatever he was going through. Flint knew him well, and Rikive might be some sort of best friend to him, they'd deal with it. Turning back to the matter at hand, Beth stepped up next to the hunter, eyes pinned on the vampire. "Look, kid. We don't want you here any more than you want to be here... as over-used as that is... and this trigger-happy moron will shoot you full of holes if you don't give us a reason not to. So let's make this simple and quick. What do you know about Rikker's dealings with Nemsemet?"</s>	<\|message\|>Gray Conover This chick really had it in for him. She was as insulting as they came. Though, how could he really blame her. The place was a regular menagerie and apparently she was the star attraction. The most insulting was what she said after labeling him food. "This city doesn't need a mortal to save it, especially one that doesn't know what he's dealing with." She was dead wrong. Nothing ticked him off more than underestimating the underdog. He held his peace just to let her finish. "Don't you realize your own people don't even trust you? Why would I trust you with my name?" She had a fair point with that last one. Just as Gray was ready to retort Beth interrupted the scene. You could say she 'stepped' up to them except she didn't make noise and he could swear she never touched the ground. Her voice was airless and hollow. The best you could do without lungs. "Look, kid. We don't want you to be here any more than you want to be here... as overused as that is... and this trigger-happy moron will shoot you full of holes if you don't give us a reason not to. So let's make this simple and quick. What do you know about Rikker's dealing with Nemsemet?" "I take offense to that." Gray responded quickly. "And I already shot her full of holes! Look where that got us!" Gray stood up from the chair. The desire to make this situation work gently was being dwarfed by the lack of respect he was receiving. "This vamp has the best point I've heard in a while. Why don't I just leave? You monsters'd be able to get by just fine fighting a war with each other! You'd fight to the point where the government figures out what's going on and smears you off the map. Just like EVERY damn time there's a supernatural uprising!" He finally gave pause. This was certainly a moment that he felt very clear on his intention and emotions. "Yes, I'm mortal. It's my advantage against all you prideful pricks. I get to see the beautiful sunrise. I get to feel the world as God intended. And now I get to fight like David and Goliath every time I hunt. The Goliath in town is Nemsemet. He's dangerous, true. Yet we have the knowledge that he died. That means we can kill him again." Gray finally turns his attention to their bound guest. "If you want to save anything dear that you have left around here then you MUST help us stop him. Despite what most of these cursed individuals think I'm not here to rip things apart." Damn monsters and their predisposition against hunters. Some of the best hunters out there ARE monsters.</s>
<\|description\|>Gray Conover Age: 31 Gender: Male Species: Human Physical Description: Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat. Talents: Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying. Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task. Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular. History: Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late. Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world. On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold. Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him. When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something. Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck. Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward. Possessions: Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge. Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down). Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool. A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife. Yes, and: Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do.</s> <\|message\|>Kaori Lyle Once the discussion had finally fell silent, Kaori lowered her eyes, contemplating. Voices had come at her from each side. Minus a few threats that she didn't respond well to, she couldn't deny the logic of the arguments that came from Gray, the nameless brunette, and the one whom she had come to identify as the lycan. Well, all but that last bit he had so cattily thrown in. Immediately, she wanted to disregard the lycan, with his fowl breath and wild animal smell. But, she had to admit that such thoughts pertaining to the fate of the supernaturals had occurred to her in the past. Were they doomed under Nemsemet's leadership? Of course. She had known this from the beginning. He would lead the city of supernaturals to their destruction. She had laid low in the wake of his terror, unwilling to accept their fate, but knowing it was inevitable. No one would be foolish enough to oppose him, would they? And here was a group of random beings thrown together, stepping on each others toes, trying to find a way. She took a breath, preparing to speak, not completely sure of what was going to come out when she heard a distant voice in the silence. "...they know what they have. Charles Gordon knows what he has." Charles Gordon. She seemed to turn inside herself as she weighed the implications of that name. It had been a long time since she'd heard it. "You kicked the hornets nest," she finally mumbled in that youthful, soprano voice. "Fine. If I decide to help you, we have to agree on a few things." She stood to her feet here, surprisingly graceful for someone with her hands tied behind her back. The wound in her chest, though sore, had finally stopped bleeding. Her arms tensed, and in the next moments there was a stretch, and then the snap of rope behind her back. She brought her arms to the front of her body, casually rubbing at the spot where her pale flesh had been reddened by her bounds. "First of all, if you want my help, stop threatening me. It's putting me in a really foul mood, and I already don't like most of you." Her eyes shifted to the direction of the lycan and rolled away in irritation, "Second, you don't ask for my name. I can't be sure that anyone knows I'm here right now, and I don't want to be on their hit-list if and when this thing goes south. And finally..." She gave a quick glance over her attire with a wearied sigh, bloodied and torn from battle with these beasts, "You let me shower." She paused, placing her hands on her hips and looking over the pairs of eyes that were staring back at her, "Agreed?"</s> <\|message\|>Parael Magnus Parry gave Rikive a hug back, steadying his breathing as best he could after that burst of memory from Charles Gordon. It was quickly apparent to him that any memories he could hit Charles with, Charles packed an equal punch to throw back with the caveat that the vampiric sociopath didn't give a flying shit about. Parry could show him the extinction of a dozen cities and it would be no skin off that man's nose. Meanwhile, Parry would have to sit there and take it if Charles decided to send any more delightful memories through the sword. After Rikive left, Parry took a second to gather up his emotions and thoughts, along with his clothes. The absence of Charles' tainted fingers on his sword didn't change the fact that Parry felt his soul was forever dirtied by it. Sooner or later, Charles or his associate would lay hands on the sword again and the feeling would return. Parry would have to live with it. Just like he would have to live with whatever they did with the weapon. Like that image he had of the sword- his sword- slicing through Billy Rikker's spine like a knife through water. When he followed Rikive down the hall of the bunker and into the "interrogation room" where their vampire was being held, Parry had his hair in a ponytail, his skin still scrubbed red and smelling of expensive melon soap, and his jeans and Gucci shirt were horribly damp. "Shower's free," he said to the vampire. "And news flash to the group. Charles Gordon used my personal sword to kill Billy Rikker. Whoever the fuck Charles Gordon is."</s> <\|message\|>Beth Callahan. Beth rolled her eyes again. "Yes, I agree, why don't you just leave?" she replied, visibly sizing up the hunter. In spite of his help in capturing the vampire, Beth would feel infinitely more comfortable without him present. The man vanquished people like each of those in the bunker on the regular, and beside that, she did not appreciate his attitude. "We're not savages," she said, straightening her back. "We can keep this from the outside eye. You certainly aren't going to do a better job." She shook her head and turned to the vampire. "Can you believe him?" Circling the room at a languid pace, she continued her observations of its inhabitants. She held herself in check, and such a thing took strength, when Autumn spoke. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm already dead," would not be met well, and nor would it help their cause. So Beth kept quiet, even when Flint returned; she could trust Tony to say what she was thinking. And just as their captive seemed ready to cooperate, the girl changed. Her stature altered in the slightest of manners, in a way only someone paying close attention would notice. It was a quarter inch movement of the shoulders, or a tilt of the head just so. Beth lifted her head a fraction when the sound of strong, determined footfalls carried through the bunker. Reluctantly, she pulled her eyes away from the vampire upon hearing her name. She gave the Asgardian a nod, then slowly followed her into the hall. Even as she walked some few feet from the doorway, she could hear the vampire's words. For a moment, a small smile played on the ghost's ethereal face. The girl positively vibrated with information... and a quiet tenacity Beth respected. She regarded Rikive, but before she could question anything, Parael sailed by them and into the room. His voice was clear when he spoke, very little trace of the screaming they'd heard earlier, and so the name reached her in full. Charles Gordon. The name set in motion a visceral recollection of shared memories that left her feeling defiled, in the same way someone marching on her grave might. The hive-mind of memories among the undead opened itself to individuals without prompting and whenever it pleased, and Beth had yet to meet any ghost with the ability to choose what they saw. She picked up the nauseating scene of a massacre of Cheyenne hundreds of years ago, where Charles Gordon fought and killed under another's command, a long time ago in conversation with an old ghost who provided her with the odd lesson on burials and ancient magic. Experiencing it again worsened the feeling. "He's at least two hundred years old," she announced, standing in the doorway. "And experienced in war. He fought to kill Native Americans, one battle I can verify, the rest, I'm guessing he didn't join in just for the one go at it." She crossed her arms, frowning. "Anyone else like to share?"</s>	<\|message\|>Gray Conover "For the record; I haven't threatened you since you woke up." Gray smirked at their suddenly privileged guest. "Yes, I agree, why don't you just leave?" Beth suggest. "Yeah I think I will." Gray responded. His eyes narrowed in a scowl at the ghost. For someone with a weight lighter than air she certainly liked to throw it around. A heavy sigh escaped his mask as he left the room. He stayed just long enough to catch what the vampire shared. What was the point? In this zoo Gray felt like the star attraction because he was simply human. At the lone room in the end of the hall he took a seat on a crate. This was one of the store rooms and was just as good as any other unoccupied room to fume in. Sleeping here would be dangerous. The vampire that had just tried to eat him only hours earlier would now be walking around. Gray leaned back against the wall and yawned. The sun would be up really soon. It would be a good time to take Beth's suggestion and do something while everyone else did what they always did so well. Hide.</s>
<\|description\|>Gray Conover Age: 31 Gender: Male Species: Human Physical Description: Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat. Talents: Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying. Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task. Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular. History: Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late. Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world. On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold. Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him. When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something. Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck. Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward. Possessions: Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge. Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down). Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool. A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife. Yes, and: Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do.</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover The deluge started. With the others running ahead and otherwise taking cover he strolled along. It was like being in Oregon in the middle of the year where torrential downpours were commonplace. He enjoyed the sound of the rain and getting wet wasn't unpleasant to him. The patter gave way to a blinding sun that was completely out of place. The building that should have been there was replaced by a vibrant display of unfamiliar trees. The cool night air was replaced by a humidity that clung to you like a filthy diaper. "What?" He shook his head with a heavy sigh. "I hate magic. It'd be different if I had some. I wonder if Karram can fix this. Where am I anyway?" He conversed with himself.</s> <\|message\|>Flint White Flint had been taken by surprise by the sudden change of atmosphere. Of course if you had looked at him you wouldn't have noticed. He had preferred the rain however, to wherever he was now, too hot and damp. He began to rack his brain, really look around, it was some sort of forest he knew that much, and the fauna was not American, neither European. Maybe South American, hell for all he knew he could be in Asia. No, he had to stick with the facts, he was still at the manor home, just some kind of magic wards protecting the place. Flint began to walk along what seemed like a trodden path. He needed to find the manor, or at least whatever the manor was hidden under in this place. The ground under Flint began to become more messy, leaves seemingly covering where a path once was twigs seemingly placed to look random rather than naturally forming, it seemed someone was attempting to hide the path, or possibly to hide a trip… The thought was interrupted by the familiar click of a grenades pin being removed. Luckily Flint's reactions whereas on point as they were 60 years ago, and the man was covered in solid rock as the explosion occurred, the shrapnel chipping away at the dirt and stone but not making its way through, Flint shifted the barrier out of his way as he wiped the sweat off his brow. "That was a close one…" Flint muttered to himself, trailing off as he soon realised this wasn't any ordinary jungle, this was a battleground. Just not one he had thought in, it was a guerrilla war, a lot more sneakiness and a lot more camouflage. Like some of his brethren in Japan, the war Flint avoided to be shipped off to France. This was going to be 'fun'</s> <\|message\|>Arachne (Assumed name: Autumn Weltich) An explosion nearby alerted Autumn to someone else nearby. Kind of hard to miss a grenade going off. It was a semi-familiar sound even though she had not been in any wars. There were enough through history to educate her about many different weapons of war. Given that this was a illusion it was probably a safe bet to assume it was constructed from one of their minds. Given the terrain she would say Tony. This looked enough like Vietnam to draw a decent conclusion. It didn't entirely help though because they were still trapped. Sighing she began to make her way toward where she heard the explosion. On the way she stopped at one point. A nigh invisible line stretched across a clearing. She'd made enough webs for it to stand out clear as day. She practically invented this kind of thing. That wouldn't be the only trap around though. The ground and water were dangerous. Maybe it was time to forgo some of the things she was hiding. Losing her shoes she took to climbing over the vegetation. Her hands and feet easily clung to the foliage and made getting around much easier. Only down side was the noise it made. Most of the plant life wasn't strong enough to not flex under her weight. Beat finding a trap though. Before long she managed to spot Flint. Landing in a safe spot she stepped over to him. "Flint, stumbling around explosives?"</s>	<\|message\|>Gray Conover A lanky figure knelt in the distance. Even with the dirtied clothing covering it there seemed to be something unsettling. Gray drew closer quietly, his feet barely rustling the grass. The kneeling figure breathed with short hard breaths, hyperventilating like a dog. The straw hat on their head shifted as Gray stepped a little too loud. Slowly the head turned. It stopped turning before he could see it. Rising to its feet it completed the revolution. Skin ashen like a dead man, face trapped in a state of terrifying rage, eyes that were shriveled from being unable to blink. Without those she would seem like a normal Vietnamese villager. With a deafening shriek of rage the 'blessed' of Abigor sprinted at Gray like an uncaring PCP addict. "Shit." Was what he managed before raising the shotgun level with her chest and unloading three shots. They stunned her for a moment before she started running again, practically unhindered by the more than a dozen bleeding holes scattered across her chest. After cranking off a few more shots the cursed woman closed the distance and despite severe wounds and clear holes through her face she screamed with unearthly fury, grabbing at the shotgun and disarming him. Gray happened to be still attached to the shotgun by a strap and was thrown along with the weapon by her beastly strength. Rolling back onto his feet as quickly as he could, he leveled his weapon instead for her right bicep. Bam, bam, bam! Splintered bone and sinew still allowed the worthless limb to cling onto the woman. She jolted forward, clearly unaffected by the pain of her mortal wound. "That's right!" Gray shouted, aiming for the throat. Another three bangs rang through the air. Vital fluids emptied from the devastating wound to her neck. The volume of her gurgling was unnerving as she kept moving forward. The kukri slid cleanly out of its sheathe on his chest. With a quick and strong sweep he cleaved into the unprotected flesh on the right side of her neck. The kukri met spine and Gray pulled it out. Blood spattered onto his vest. His unbalanced adversary was dizzy, no longer screaming and now tottering uneasily. He pulled the blade back and aimed at the neck one more time. This time the heavy silver knife sliced all the way through and the head sailed to the side. The body remained standing for another few seconds, the hand remaining intact reached out to grasp her enemy in a last fit of anger before falling free. Gray kicked the prone body a little. Comfortable that it could no longer try to kill him he wiped the bloody kukri off on a less sullied part of her clothing. "I hate these things." The knife was returned to its sheathe. These followers of rage and war were rarely alone. He looked around to make sure that there wasn't another hiding in wait to strike. His adversary's project wasn't at all comforting. The bed of razor-pointed bamboo spikes was half buried in the grass. "I hope the others are doing well." Gray spoke to himself.</s>
<\|description\|>Kaori Lyle Age: 42 (Appears Early 20's) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire Physical Description: Talents:- Immortality - Enhanced strength and agility - Enhanced Senses - Healing - Experienced with firearms and blades - Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes History:During the Vietnam War, Kaori's father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised. In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family's decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income. In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of 'work' into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her 'change' into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles. Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively. Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence. Psychological Profile:Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn't exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn't opposed to taking a life, she also doesn't murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she's always been a bit of a loner and doesn't confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it's unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty. Possessions:-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother -A small arsenal of firearms -Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent.</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir Rikive shot a look at Flint for punching her arm. She couldn't help it, the image was so unexpected and vivid it made her laugh. Maybe it was a sign she needed to sleep. Dismissing the thought she tensed as the two newcomers entered into the bunker, clenching her jaw and tightening her grip on her sword. For once she found herself agreeing with Flint, it was a very bad idea to let them in. Though technically, none of them had any reason to trust each other. And we're planning to band together to try and fight Nemsemet. She thought with an internal grimace. The other's were putting their weapons to the side but she was hesitant to do so. Though, she could see that having her sword drawn wouldn't help ease the tension in the air. Her shield returned to it's sheath form as the woman walked in and sat herself down with the grace and authority of a queen. "How is it exactly you found us?" She asked, sheathing her sword and placing it back at her hip in her belt. "If you could locate us, it's possible that other's could as well using the same means."</s> <\|message\|>Beth Callahan. Beth shot the others a look when their unwanted guests strode inside, her features tight with irritation. It was high time they got going with whatever move they planned to make, and these delays only meant less time to prepare. The longer it took, the more chance Nemsemet had to find them. Now, she wasn't afraid exactly. Why should she be, if she couldn't die? The dread mummy himself posed no threat to her life, or afterlife as the case may be, but the chaos he was already beginning to rain on New Camden did not harmonise with her plans for the future. She did not like being caged, either. Or spoken down to, or very much of any of this. She took some comfort in knowing the rest of their troupe felt the same way towards Autumn and the hunter. It helped to know she could seize the mortal's body if she wanted, too. She peered outside once more, then shut the door with a tangible hand. For as long as the strangers grew comfy in the bunker, she would remain an ethereal form by the door. The way this woman spoke suggested she wanted something from the group, or perhaps from Nemsemet's demise. Everyone had an ulterior motive in the underworld. Certainly the death of the dread mummy and the rebuilding of the court proposed a new start and plenty of opportunities to anyone with half a brain. With most of the undead running into Nemsemet's arms as soon as he took control, Beth knew that well enough. She decided Autumn had much more to do in New Camden than what the other courts sent her there for. Once Rikive asked the obvious, Beth crossed her arms again and added, "And what business did they send you here for?"</s> <\|message\|>Arachne (Assumed name: Autumn Weltich) As the weapons were being put away Autumn listened to their concerns. They wanted answers that she was not quite ready to divulge just yet. "I'd rather not say how. It exposes someone I've spent a lot of time keeping under wraps. I'm sure some of you can understand the benefit. The less people know the more useful the skill you see. Once the cat is out of the bag then everyone will know how to thwart it and it would be of no use to anyone. Suffice to say it is a skill uniquely bound to me that doesn't leave any trace of magic for our mummified friend to find. At least no more than anywhere else." That was about as close to the truth she was willing to go. She didn't know enough about the majority of them. She would need to get to know them individually and even then that did not mean they should know. Some of her closest friends had no clue who she really was. Then there was the question about the courts. This was one she would be completely open about. "They sent me here to figure out what's happened to New Camden. If you've been inside this whole time then you might not know that anyone that comes in that has any connection or knowledge of the supernatural cannot leave. So once you've gone in then you aren't getting out. Those humans who are ignorant of such things can come and go as they please. Additionally any communication related to such is cut off. With nothing to go on the courts are scrambling over themselves in confusion and fear. Being a thorn in their side they saw fit to force me in to figure out the situation. To be honest I had no intention of coming anywhere near this city myself. Though the mystery of it all has some allure to it." The last sentence was probably the most genuine thing she had said up to that point. Having access to so much information the unknown was a most exhilarating experience. Were she honest with herself this was probably the most fun she's had in centuries. Dropping the story telling she switched back to the task at hand. Their run in with the web earlier brought with it a tiny spider that hid itself from view. Until entering she could not know what what was said. Physical barriers were still a hindrance, but it wasn't often that one came across that completely cut off communication. Picking up where they left off as if she had been there Autumn felt the need to put in her two cents. "Your plan to capture a vampire is a good one. I can help scope out a potential target with sufficient clout without raising an alarm. The capture will need to be done by someone else though."</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover Diplomacy was not a very fun process. Didn't really feel any different with monsters. Both ways it sucked. Diplomacy with lead was a lot easier and generally more fun. Too bad it had some terrible consequences. Despite requests from the tall old-fashioned man he held onto his weapon. True that it might be a concern to them but it was also one the things giving him a sense of safety in this dungeon filled with unknown creatures. "I'll hang on to mine. Dangerous creatures about." He did do them the respect of putting the safety on and laying in next to him, hand still perched on it, after finding a folding chair to sit in. "I can do it." Gray immediately volunteered. "I just need to know how old the target is, his nationality and a chance to get some groceries. If I can't get those I'll just make do." Vampires had specific weaknesses that were exploitable and it was quite possible to capture them if you took them by surprise. Good thing Gray did this kind of thing for a living. Time to earn to brownie points!</s> <\|message\|>Antonio Victor Barnes "Elders ain't that easy. They keep themselves surrounded by security and they don't show themselves like the goons and the minions do unless they have cover, because they've been around long enough to appreciate the risks and lots of people want to get at them. Like I said, best to snag one down on the totem pole and pump them for information. If we get lucky, the bloodsucker has a grudge somewhere that we can use to our advantage," since that's how internal vampire politics worked -- they weren't real families, like, say, a pack of werewolves, that squabbled in private but put together a unified front under pressure. It was safe to say that vampires worked together well in peacetime but tended to show the fractures under the surface when the pressure came on. "Beats going into a club full of them in plain sight. If we're going to get some vampires to turn on one another, we can't be a pride parade in the middle of Frisco, gotta make it deniable. That means actually kidnapping one and hoping they play along. And if they don't play along, we interrogate them for real and dispose of them. But if they play along, you want to make it look like they didn't cooperate because vampires don't like to take sides openly, it's always some sort of fuckin' catch or bullshit with them." These were words out of the mouth of a man that, and sometimes others forgot, ran a not for profit foundation that helped economically disadvantaged people find jobs, re-purposed abandoned buildings for industrial and commercial use and otherwise pushed any in-the-black performance back into new projects in the community. He took home a modest (actual modest) paycheck for the job. But Horizon didn't get big by accident, it identified areas where it could react nimbly to a situation when New Camden's government couldn't, and it often couldn't due to bureaucracy and gridlock, providing the right training for the jobs they had, and changing faster than local and state government could to address the manpower needs. So businesses started doing business with the charity instead. But the plan was a result of that sort of thinking -- bottom line calculation in the name of a greater good. Grab a vamp and make them talk. "Pick whatever space you want," he shrugged to Flint. Personally, he wasn't sure he wanted to sleep down here anymore. Things just done got tense, especially with the Punisher running around with his silver-loaded shotgun always in hand.</s>	<\|message\|>Kaori Lyle The loft the young vampire occupied was a wide and darkened space, dressed with fine things she'd acquired over the last few decades. Moments ago, she had stood in the center of it all, wondering if it would survive the oncoming war. It was an odd feeling, the sense of loss that accompanied the idea of seeing it perish. In her glowing eyes, it was her life's work. Her beautiful loft, with these beautiful things, was a source of validation for her worth and skill. She had secured many a client by bringing them here, allowing them to see who she was through the lens of what she had come to possess. "Just things," she had reminded herself, as she buried her attachment beneath the instinctual need to survive. It was simple: she couldn't take these things along, and she might never be coming back. It all depended on how this night progressed. Now, she stood before a decorative floor standing mirror. She was a tall, willowy creature. Her height she had inherited from her father, and every other human aspect seemed to speak of her mother. Her skin tone had paled, but her facial features and long, shining black hair were reminiscent of the woman who raised her in her mortal days. Even her mother's eyes had somewhat survived her transition into immortality; Kaori's natural eye color had been so deep, that it muddled the bright crimson that was typical of vampires' eyes. Instead, her eyes were now the color of red wine. It occurred to her, as she looked over herself, that these similarities would be the only thing she was guaranteed to keep of her mothers. Her eyes shifted from the mirror to the wardrobe that stood nearby. Moving towards it, she pulled a long silk robe from a hanger. It was deep blue color, not bright enough to compromise the night. This garment had been passed down through the generations of her family, and from her mother's hands to her own. She tugged the smooth fabric around her shoulders, allowing it to dangle loosely from her frame. If nothing else, at least she could die in it. Everything else she took would be purely practical. Behind a sliding wall was her personal armory. From it, she selected a number of small, easily concealable weapons. They were tucked into various compartments inside her boots, leather pants, and beneath her top. She almost felt vulnerable leaving without heavier firepower, but it was key to lay low in times like these. Big weapons invited questions, and she didn't much care to answer them when the future seemed quite so…unpredictable. As she approached the heavy metal door that separated her apartment from a dimly lit hallway, she cast a sidelong glance at a decorated red envelope that lay open on a coffee table. She gave a roll of her glowing eyes. Vampires were such dramatic creatures. Nevertheless, she swiped it up between two fingers and tucked it into her pants. She stepped through the wide door, bringing it shut with a notable 'clang'. A flight of stairs would lead her upwards and spit her out onto the nighttime street. Suddenly, she was a part of the night, blended to it like moving shadow. Her black hair acted as a cloak, hanging down to nearly graze her hips. It would take a keen pair of eyes to find the glint of her pale face reflecting the moonlight, or the colored accents in the floral pattern of her robe.</s>
<\|description\|>Kaori Lyle Age: 42 (Appears Early 20's) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire Physical Description: Talents:- Immortality - Enhanced strength and agility - Enhanced Senses - Healing - Experienced with firearms and blades - Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes History:During the Vietnam War, Kaori's father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised. In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family's decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income. In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of 'work' into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her 'change' into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles. Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively. Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence. Psychological Profile:Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn't exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn't opposed to taking a life, she also doesn't murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she's always been a bit of a loner and doesn't confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it's unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty. Possessions:-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother -A small arsenal of firearms -Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent.</s> <\|message\|>Beth Callahan. Beth watched the woman through narrowed eyes, still off-put by her earlier comments. She eyed Autumn from head to toe and back again, trying to understand what made her so knowing. She found nothing. She could not even tell whether Autumn kept her secrets out of necessity or simply to annoy the rest of them. However, Beth was pleasantly surprised to hear a touch of honesty in Autumn's voice when she answered the second question. She frowned harder just to hide her smirk. She had figured out Nemsemet's barrier shortly after learning of the Count's death and her undead fellows' betrayal. The tormented spirits, those with the old "unfinished business" routine going on, they had thought Nemsemet could relieve them of their tasks and chains, and finally end their afterlives. The rest simply weren't loyal, and some of the risen dead completely stupid besides, or got themselves vanquished. All of Beth's key contacts gone, in just one night. She'd tried to get out of town then, but found herself unable to move past the town border. What she didn't know, until Autumn opened her mouth, was that someone else could get in. This information she kept locked away for another time. She nodded her acceptance of Autumn's story and looked at the others as the conversation rerouted to the capturing of a vampire. Beth unfolded her arms but remained close to the door. She gestured to Autumn. "Do your thing. Find us someone low on the food chain," she said, then looked at the hunter. "I'll go with him. If he decides not to play nice, at least he won't be able to kill me."</s> <\|message\|>Karram Sylian Karram sheathed Oakbane and sat back down. He listened to Autmumn give her answers, one offering little to no details and the other giving a sufficient and plausible reason. Karram let his arm sling over the end of the chair as he assumed a more laid back posture. It was unlike him to do so, but at this point, his brain was fried and the excitement from earlier was finally taking its toll. The conversation quickly returned to the capturing of a vampire... one high enough in the ranks to offer information or play along with their plans, but not too high as to instantly sound the alarms when he or she didn't show up for dinner. Karram ran through a list of names in his head, but the majority of those he'd been in contact with were either dead or too close to the end boss. He did have one skill that could prove useful in this situation, however. He sat up in his chair and looked towards the group. "If we can't get the vamp to help us, we could attempt an inside job. Snag the vampire, interrogate em, and then I can disguise myself with their likeness and hopefully walk in to the club freely. From there we stage a- I don't know- a Trojan horse routine or something and get to our target? Just a thought, a... last resort or alternative route." Karram would shrug with each progressively less confident sentence. He wasn't thrilled to throw himself to the dogs like that, but if he was going to avenge his uncle's death and help this ragtag group stop the damn mummy, he'd have to share what gifts he had to offer.</s> <\|message\|>Antonio Victor Barnes Later... Tony was not a guy with a car thief skillset or any particular comfort in playing the role of some sort of kidnapper, but other people in the bunker clearly had the skillset. So they got their hands on one of those full-sized vans that a plumber might use and some other sundries and then parked themselves near the Rusty Steak Knife, which was an awful name for even a seedy looking bar like this. That was the exterior, anyway. Vampires enjoyed their melodrama and what looked like a seedy joint was actually meticulously designed to be seedy. Inside was a nightclub that'd rate with anything one might find in the richest part of the city, designed to be as chic and ultramodern and unbelievable as possible. It was a place where the vampires brought their new thralls, or people about to be enthralled -- blood dolls, muscle, government officials and businessmen that they were trying to subvert. It was a busy, bloody little beehive of activity, especially as Nemsemet took the gloves off on creating more vampires and enthralling more mortals. Vampires did so adore to hide in plain sight. The number of couture'd people mingling nearby, however, as well as the presence of thralls in somewhat cheaper suits and wielding radios gave a bit of a lie to that. Sure, it was in the ghetto, but vampires didn't fear mortal gangs. In most cases, they had control of them anyway and what they didn't control they could wipe out pretty quickly enough -- it was a simple matter of supplying rivals with guns moreso than slaughtering outright. No one screwed with the operation, as a result. The security wasn't there because they were worried about mortals -- they always had the mortals in the palm of their hands. It was the great advantage of vampires. The vampires, moreso than any other group that existed in the society of the Courts, were masters of subverting mortal institutions -- their blood was addictive, they looked very human. They had the advantage of being human once, and knowing the system more thoroughly. A predator who was once the prey knew all the prey's vulnerabilities, given sufficient thought. Moreso than any in the Courts, they adapted to the modern world and thrived, only held in check by the rules that kept them from breeding too many, too fast and endangering their existence. And apparently, Nemsemet played upon the right ones with their frustrations at living in the shadows, promising a better day. It was headache-inducing to think about it. Sure, the Court was messed up -- the tithe alone was onerous taxation, kept high so as to ensure a steady pool of servants and keep the Courts nobility in plush luxury. It created the resentments that led to so many supporting Nemsemet in dismantling the system, even if it meant throwing mortals to the wolves. And some of them were the wolves, so that idea was made even more appealing. Tony was in the driver's seat, wearing mechanic's coveralls -- he figured he was black and that made the whole disguise credible, but he had to stay in the car with a good bit of air freshener because vampires could smell him; their sense of smell was acute too. It meant he couldn't do the snatch, but that was okay, because he didn't want Rivike doing the driving anymore anyway. Theirs wasn't the only vehicle, but this was the snatch-van. "Okay, guys, I'm coming up on it," he said as he parked the van nearby.</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir Rikive flipped open the small, black purse Parael had given her to hold her sword. It still fascinated her how with a simple spell, this tiny bag could hold an infinite number of items. Plus it matched her outfit, which seemed pretty fitting for a nightclub and may help her seem less suspicious. Not a terribly difficult look to put together since the only clothes she had were ones Parael had picked out for her during their shopping excursion. She shut the purse and let it fall by her hip, the strap hanging across her chest. "Should I go move into position?" She asked Tony, leaning forward a bit from her seat in the back of the van so she could see through windshield.</s>	<\|message\|>Kaori Lyle The scent of blood emanating from the Rusty Steak Knife was intoxicating. Consuming. To say she craved it was an understatement. What blood was to a vampire could only be explained in the most passionately extreme of terms. It was sensual, moving, more alluring than power, coffee, or other addictive substances. More than smell it, a vampire could taste the faint copper on her tongue, feel the heat of it in the air. It was this way each time Kaori approached the Rusty Steak Knife, where blood was stocked in human form and otherwise. For this reason, she didn't care much to do business here. She was too close to snapping, like a starving tiger let out of its cage. Delicate matters required a clear mind. As she took a lungful of the air - so thick - her veins ignited within her, burning her from the inside. She heard the low growl pulling from her throat before she realized she was making the sound. Abruptly, she cut off her own air, emptying her lungs and leaving them that way. She didn't need oxygen, it was only another form of observing and interacting with the world. With a steady click, click, click, of her heeled boots, she began to make her way through the dross surrounding the building. Distractions, all of it. She was significantly dressed down from what the people around her wore, but she had intended to be. There was no use attracting attention right now, and a short dress wouldn't do her any favors if things got...unpredictable. Her quiet, low-key presence didn't stop a pale female with curled, blonde locks from cutting her off before she'd made it halfway through the outer crowd. Her hair fell just above her shoulders, highlighted and primped to match a clingy tube dress that looked like it had been sized to be a shirt. Her glossed lips spread into a smile, "I see you must have gotten our letter. To be honest, I'm pleasantly surprised. We were beginning to think you'd left town." Kaori's eyes rolled to the side in annoyance. Vampire women were usually unearthly and hypnotic, but at times they were nothing more than passive aggressive bitches. "The hell do you want, Kel?" she impatiently demanded. She didn't want to be here any longer than necessary. The blonde vampires features hardened at Kaori's tone, "Don't be so rude, not when we're trying to help you." Kaori's arms folded as her face tightened in a snide smirk, "Help me? You don't have the power to help yourself." The crowd was beginning to thin around them as people began to migrate indoors. A low growl rumbled from Kel's chest, "Quill is gracious to allow you to-" "Quill is your elder, and you should know better than to speak for him," she hissed the words menacingly down at her, "My business is with your leader alone." Her features had lost all sign of amusement, instead, her delicate china-doll face had twisted into a mask of hostility. It was similar to what you might witness when a wolf defends it's territory. Threatening, for your own sake. The petite blonde knew she had pushed too far. She wore a stubborn pout on her face, but nevertheless her eyes reluctantly shifted to the ground in submission. She stepped back slowly and wordlessly gave an acknowledging nod of her head before skittering away. Kaori watched each movement until the girl had disappeared through the doors of the building. Once she was gone, Kaori took another breath of copper-tainted air, and released it slowly, letting the fury escape her. There were a few stragglers left outside, but the majority of the clubs population were now indoors, partaking in whatever unsavory activity that had developed here tonight. The tall vampire leaned against the rough brick of the building. Her head was spinning from the residual taste of blood in her lungs and throat. She squeezed her wine-colored eyes shut to steady herself and regain control of the animalistic instincts that threatened to overwhelm her. Her mind was a powerful tool that she prided herself in wielding, unlike so many of her kind. It was what separated leaders from the followers, and a large part of the reason she hadn't already been killed. She would need it's advantage tonight, and so she waited in the cool darkness for her senses to clear.</s>
<\|description\|>Kaori Lyle Age: 42 (Appears Early 20's) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire Physical Description: Talents:- Immortality - Enhanced strength and agility - Enhanced Senses - Healing - Experienced with firearms and blades - Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes History:During the Vietnam War, Kaori's father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised. In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family's decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income. In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of 'work' into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her 'change' into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles. Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively. Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence. Psychological Profile:Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn't exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn't opposed to taking a life, she also doesn't murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she's always been a bit of a loner and doesn't confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it's unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty. Possessions:-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother -A small arsenal of firearms -Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent.</s> <\|message\|>Flint White Flint turned his head to look to Karrem, his five-o-clock shadow shading his hard features. His face looked of utter boredom mixed with anger and a dollop of unemotional death. He looked down at the bottle then back to Karrem, the expression not changing. He finally spoke. "Sure" the word came out in a mono tone voice almost like that of a robot. The bottle of whiskey was soon in Karrems hand as Flint turned back to look towards the club. Action man had exited the car and seemed to be talking to someone, Flint didn't pay too much attention as he unfortunately began to see the plan fall apart. Parry was walking towards the door, and Flint didn't seem so bored anymore. "Fuck" He muttered, sitting up straight and looking to Karrem in the back seat. "You sure you are going to be ok with that stick if shit go's down" Flint asked, noting the sword at the faerie's hip. "I can give you something with a bit more reach if you want."</s> <\|message\|>Karram Sylian Karram took hold of the flask and took two deliberate sips of the bitter liquid. His face twinged a little before turning normal once more. He handed the flask back, wiping his mouth as he did. He stretched his arms out wide and let out a half-yawn before Flint muttered a breathy "Fuck". Karram instantly reached for his blade's hilt again and peered out the window of the vehicle. Parry was on the move and was soon talking to the bouncer... about what Karram could only guess. And none of his guesses led to a happy ending. "You sure you are going to be ok with that stick if shit go's down. I can give you something with a bit more reach if you want." Flint was eyeing Karram's sword. This sword had seen many years of use, and yet it never dulled. Eromyr had given it to him as a gift in celebration of his passing the council's judgement in Ireland. Oakbane, a fearsome blade that allowed Karram to harness natural energy and wield it as his own. Its abilities were powerful, but relatively unknown even to other magical beings. Karram was good at keeping secrets after all. He clutched the hilt tighter and looked back up. "Oakbane is suited for any style of combat, so I think I'll manage. Thank you though, Flint. It 'shit go's down', as I presume it will, I've got your back." He nodded to emphasize his point and slid into the front seat with ease so he could get a better view of the club's entrance.</s>	<\|message\|>Kaori Lyle The tall vampire had heard her name being called from the door, "Kaori, party of one?" But Quill would wait, at least long enough for her to gather her senses. Unfortunately, as soon as she had, she heard the 'pop' of silenced fire. To the ears of a vampire, a silencer was virtually useless. It wasn't as explosive, but perfectly audible. But then, the silencers weren't for their benefit. Any wise vampire wouldn't dare intervene in Rikker's work. The silencers were meant to keep things quiet enough to deflect unwanted outside attention or interference. Although, in times like these, it seemed unlikely that anyone would want to tangle with the vampires, especially someone as powerful as Rikker. A scent ripped through the air along with the subtle sound. In instant, her head was swimming again. What is this? She was pulled under. So deep, she had all but lost her grip completely in a fraction of a second. A menacing growl raked over her ears. She felt it rumbling from her throat like thunder. Her body tensed into a low crouch, like a coil ready to spring. It was instinctual at this point, impossible to ignore for someone her age. The older a vampire, the more experienced they tended to be with matters of self-control. Kaori was remarkably controlled for someone under 50, but even she couldn't help herself with that incredible aroma in the air. Chaos erupted within and around the club as celestial blood was shed. In a short instant, she was a part of the animalistic herd, frenzied over a feeding. She sprung from her spot on the wall, leaping half the length of the sidewalk and running along the rest to burst through the entrance. There was a mass of vampires clawing for the bloodied body on the floor. Kaori knew it would hardly be a single minute before the unknown idiot was torn to shreds. She didn't care. Her eyes flicked around, assessing the situation. It was similar to the way a pack of wolves would feed. Rikker and his guards lunged for the body, claiming the kill. The majority of vampires in the club had flown from their seats. The wiser ones had begun to form a circle, waiting for a scrap or two to be left behind by their leader. The few younger vampires that either couldn't control their urges or didn't know they had to were torn back, viciously punished by an older and wiser beast. Battles developed, staining the floor with rich, red warmth. The unfortunate mortals that had shown up that night began to scream, looking for an escape and torn down before they'd made it more than a step or two. It was unrestrained violence and chaos, and Kaori hated how good it felt. It was home for a vampire. But not just any blood would do tonight. It had to be this unearthly creature. Her predatory gaze narrowed in on him, in the murderous clutches of Rikkers fists. The vampires in the surrounding circle grew increasingly anxious as Rikker toyed with his prey, as if the conquest would be satisfaction for the group as a whole. Rikker took his time, savoring the kill and teasing it with the chilling words, "I will devour you."</s>
<\|description\|>Kaori Lyle Age: 42 (Appears Early 20's) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire Physical Description: Talents:- Immortality - Enhanced strength and agility - Enhanced Senses - Healing - Experienced with firearms and blades - Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes History:During the Vietnam War, Kaori's father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised. In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family's decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income. In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of 'work' into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her 'change' into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles. Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively. Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence. Psychological Profile:Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn't exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn't opposed to taking a life, she also doesn't murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she's always been a bit of a loner and doesn't confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it's unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty. Possessions:-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother -A small arsenal of firearms -Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent.</s> <\|message\|>Antonio Victor Barnes When the humans boiled, out, Tony decided that the situation was screwed and they better hit while the chaos was happening. But he told Autumn first, "Shieldmaiden and I are hitting the front door. Tell the others that the plan is hosed, do whatever they can." He added, even as he pulled off the jump suit, going down to shirts and a wifebeater, "Incidentally, you might want to tell your hunter to go easy on the silver. I'm the only lycan in this bitch and if he shoots me, he might not be able to escape, because the vampires are going to get him after he gets me. There's an AK in the van, lever down all the way for rock n' roll because the thralls are packing. Short, controlled bursts, you got it?" He didn't like leaving his back to a hunter. Not at all. And he didn't like it. Not one little bit. It was funny that Rivike managed to create a stir all of her own as she got to Parael first, but while they focused in on her, Tony made his way into the club, stiff-arming and pushing his way past panicking mortals while yelling, "Terrorist attack! Chechens are on a rampage!" in a spin that the Court would have appreciated back in the day -- with all the fucking Russian types running around, that made total sense, especially after the Boston Marathon bombings. But once it was down to vampires and thralls, the latter of who couldn't smell a lycan, he changed is tactics; the thing was, the thralls weren't sure what the hell was going on, so they were confused and it was easy to slip past them. But as soon as he pushed into the vampire club behind the restaurant. When he finally did encounter a vamp, snarling obscenely and not even realizing that he wasn't some vamper out for the happy juice out of a Celestial, he yelled, "GET PARAEL OUT NOW!" and he shifted rapidly and brutally, prying two sets of fingers into the vamp's head, and tearing off the jaw in one brutal motion. It got pretty chaotic from there on out. Once in man-beast, he ran on a great deal more instinct than intellect in this form, and it was hard to necessarily distinguish friend from foe when the hormones were flowing the way he did, as the thrill of killing and struggle overtook him. A vampire could certainly relate, but that was perhaps why Lycans and vampires detested each other so. Most of them had, perhaps, dealt with the wolves before, but never quite so close quarter -- when the celestial blood entered the place, the vampires got sloppy in the throes of their great thirst and desire, and the thralls were, quite frankly, not the first line of defense in these situations anyway. Still, it wasn't quite so easy as just ripping a couple thralls. The next vampire fought fast too, striking, using a table leg as an improvised weapon, bringing its muscle and speed into play. It was true that a lycanthrope was a nasty customer for a vampire, and probably the match for a couple in a toe to toe fight, and it was also true that Tony, possibly the only big cat running around town, was actually a good bit scarier than even some of the wolves, probably was good for a couple more. But there must have been fifty or so vampires in the room. Even more thralls. That was just too much, especially if they did recover their wits and start organizing.</s> <\|message\|>Flint White "I'll take your word for it" Flint said, as he noticed the Cinema explode into a frenzy of mortals ."Well the shit has hit the fan" Flint was soon outside the vehicle and to the boot of the car, inside he grabbed his beloved Thompson and racked the slide. "Ok stay beside me, I've got the range covered, but if they get close enough to caress my hair I'll need you on point" The orders where directed towards Karrem, and before he gave him chance to respond Flint was on the move towards the club. When he got to the entrance he saw the chaos unfold, vampires and thralls in troves as Parry lay bloody. Rikive thought with her sword and yelled something Flint could not hear. Tony was slashing and ripping people a part. Flint took a swig from his bottle and smashed it onto the floor by his feet. He was back in the 20's, the enemy gang drinking and brawling in front of him. He was the leader of the Booze Hounds, and he began to clean up. Flint fired from the hip, the gun in one hand as he began to light up fireballs in his left. The recoil was controlled, and the gun hit its mark as vampires and thralls where spattered by .45 calibre fire. In ten seconds the entire 100 round magazine was empty, the bodies of the men he had shot barely had hit the ground before the Thompson was dropped and his right hand erupted in flame. Flint aimed his two hands at the crowd and a wave of orange flame erupted over the masses, he hoped his comrades would be safe from the blast but his main concern was causing as much damage and as much panic that the Vampires would think they were up against an army of flame thrower wielding, machine gun toting bad asses. Instead of the ragtag group of sword wielders, drunks, monsters and the rest of the motley crew.</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover Half-tempted to grab his shotgun he reasoned there was another way. In the gym bag in his left hand were items meant to help him capture a vampire but they would certainly be good enough to disrupt the crowd given the right combination. He dropped the bag and unzipped it, sifting through several items, metal bat, wood stake, towels, - there it was. He pulled an aerosol can out of the bag followed by a towel and tied it hastily around the can, creating a makeshift sling. Out of a pouch he retrieved a lighter and lit the bottom. Gray didn't smoke but man did a lighter come in handy. He walked toward the Rusty Steak Knife as the towel burned, picking up heating and volume. With one good swing he shot it over the heads of his companions and into a group of surprised denizens. As the can impacted the pressure and heat caused it to burst outwards in flames catching clothing and skin alight and making for some impressive pyrotechnics from such a small object. Though not necessarily to an immortal foe it was one hell of a painful deterrent to buy the others some time. To further support the others Gray drew a Glock and started firing three-shot bursts into the wings of the vampire group that threatened to surround his retreating allies. They would need to get to the cars fast. Even outrunning vampires here could prove challenging. And then Flint showed everyone why Gray loved weapons with large magazines. Then he made the hunter's pyro trick look like a cheap match.</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir "I'm-" Rikive cut herself off to slash at another vampire. "TRYING!" She shouted back at Tony. She needed a bigger distraction, something that would really draw these damned creatures away from- Flames as bright as the sun suddenly swept through the crowd and Rikive held up her shield to protect herself from the heat. The fire blasted against her shield as it blew over their heads. She remained relatively untouched, but the vampires surrounding her ignited and furthered the spiral of chaos. Flint. That would certainly work. She crouched down and picked up Parael's limp body, throwing his lanky form over her shoulder. Her shield arm gripped onto him to keep him there so he would be somewhat protected. Taking in a deep breath she charged back into the crowd, not as thick as before and greatly distracted by the attack on the fringes. A few times she had to lash out with her sword or slam her shoulder into someone, but she managed to bully her way through the crowd. A stray bullet went in her gut and she grunted, but pressed on. Finally she broke free onto the other side, panting for breath and sweat beading on her skin. "I got the eldhúsfífl!" She shouted, running toward the safety of Flint and the hunter Gray. "Send them to their weak and pitiful Gods, lads!" She yelled as encouragement while she passed them and headed for the door. Loved as she would to stay and continue to help with the fight, Parael had been left to bleed for far too long. The outside air felt like a blast of arctic wind when she emerged and headed for the van. She threw open one of the doors to the van and laid Parael down on the floor as her shield returned to a sheath. It clattered onto the floor and she placed Winterthorn beside it, within easy reach if something else happened. Rikive barely acknowledge those still in the van and focused on taking care of Parael. A heap of swears and other choice words fell from her lips in old Norse as she ripped open Parael's shirt to get to the wounds of his chest. Her heart was pounding in her chest and it had nothing to do with the battle. It had everything to do with the fact her close friend may very well die if she made a mistake. Tear's were close to the surface of her eyes as she pressed her hands tightly over the two gunshot injuries. The blood was warm against her skin but it sent a chill down her spine. Relax. Wisps of luminous white mist drifted from between her fingers, her magic flowing into Parael's chest to repair the damage. Please don't die.</s>	<\|message\|>Kaori Lyle There was an extremely limited number of ways to kill a vampire. After turning, each vampire learned these methods by heart. Sunlight, fire, and staking with wood that was older than the vampire itself. The only additional way to subdue a vampire was to take off its head, and that would only last as long as the head and body were kept separate. So, Kaori believed they held the advantage. When a vampire fell to a bite or a bullet, they would likely stand again in the next few moments. The added attack wasn't enough to pull her focus from the scent of celestial blood. Not until flame erupted into the space. She felt the heat as if it were coming at her in slow motion. It took her less than a second to spring from the floor onto a nearby bar counter. Thanks to their natural speed, a good number of the vampires had dove or otherwise dodged the path of the flames, but a few who had been trapped in chaos were suddenly lit up like a number of small Christmas trees. The agonizing screams reached her ears seconds before the scent of burning flesh, and that was enough to slice through her blood-dazed mind like a blade. Her concentration returned to her forcefully, strengthened by her sudden enragement. Not all of these - actually barely any of these - were her friends. But they were her people. Her kind. And they were being burned alive. Her red-wine eyes darted about the space. She zeroed in on the source of the fire. She slipped a hand into her boot and pulled out a small, curved blade with an ornate handle. She took a running start across the bar, zipping over its length and diving from the edge. It was just enough momentum to put her above the flame. She could feel the sting of heat against her skin and smelled the singe of a few strands of her long, shiny hair. How dare they. With her fist curled around the handle of her blade, she turned her body enough to swing her arm around and down as she came back towards earth, aiming a swift swipe of the sharpened blade at the back of the living flamethrower and landing in a low crouch behind him.</s>
<\|description\|>Kaori Lyle Age: 42 (Appears Early 20's) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire Physical Description: Talents:- Immortality - Enhanced strength and agility - Enhanced Senses - Healing - Experienced with firearms and blades - Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes History:During the Vietnam War, Kaori's father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised. In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family's decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income. In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of 'work' into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her 'change' into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles. Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively. Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence. Psychological Profile:Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn't exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn't opposed to taking a life, she also doesn't murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she's always been a bit of a loner and doesn't confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it's unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty. Possessions:-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother -A small arsenal of firearms -Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent.</s> <\|message\|>Karram Sylian Karram watched as Beth took the object from Flint's possession and began escorting their new vampire friend to the van nearby. Karram followed at a quick pace, keeping an eye out for any danger up ahead. But as usual, things never go as planned. Beth noticed before he did, but her expression caused Karram to look back. Flint was down and Tony was shot. Fucking fuck... Karram thought. "Get them out of here!" Beth shouted at Karram. Karram noted Autumn heading that way as well. But he didn't hesitate. Wings spread again, he darted through the bastards in the club and landed near Flint and Tony just as Autumn reached them as well. He nodded at her as she grabbed them up. Karram slammed the ground, causing several root systems to split through the floor and ensnare two vampire attackers going after Autumn and her baggage. Karram backpedaled from there, covering Autumn's back as she ran towards the vehicles outside. Of course that's when he witnessed a shining winged Parry slicing through thralls and vamps like butter screaming some nonsense about thriller...? Karram was happy he was okay and totally... well... un-surprised to see him acting in this fashion.</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir His heart wasn't beating, he wasn't breathing anymore. Panic swept through her as she pressed her hands tighter against his chest over his heart after closing the bullet and bite wounds. She pushed her healing energy into his heart in pulses, similar to the defibrillator's human used to restart a heart. Come on, come on! She could sense that the damage to the tissue was being repaired, but his heart was silent. Rikive swore in frustration when she heard Beth call out to her from outside of the van. Parael's heart still wasn't beating. Her other comrades needed her, but Parael... Gritting her teeth and shutting her eyes tight, she slowly pulled her hands away. It was too late. She pressed her blood covered hand against her eyes, taking in a deep shuddering breath to try and pull herself together. There was still a battle raging, other's that were still alive needed her help. She should have gone in after him right away... "Aw, lovely! I missed you so much!" The sound of Parael's voice made her snap her head up, her pale green eyes wide when the slender man tackled her in a hug. She was completely stunned and speechless, she had been so sure that he was dead. Gone forever! Relief and joy quickly replaced her surprise and she was about to hug Parael back when he pulled away from her. She watched him dig around in his diaper bag in confusion. As he pulled forth the iron sword and six wings emerged behind him, her mouth dropped open in shock. Parael...had come out of retirement!? Rikive stared up at him with wide eyes, the power radiating from him reminding her of her mother's people. She smiled before laughing at his departing words, more from sheer relief that he was alive and still the same as before. Except for, of course, the wings. She picked up her own sword and sheath, following him out of the back of the van and looking at Beth with the vampire. It seemed like she had their new 'friend' under control. "Get her in the van, I'll help get the others." She said before heading back toward the club. With Parael providing cover and a suitable distraction, Rikive located the downed Flint and Tony being dragged out by Autumn. Karram was also helping to cover her back with what few people were focusing on them as they retreated. She sheathed her sword and crouched down to pull one of Tony's arm's over her shoulder as he was the most obviously injured. She could help walk him out while healing him. She didn't know what was wrong with Flint. She pressed one hand against Tony's bleeding back as she stood, using it to start healing him. The mist like magic flowed into his skin from her hand, spreading through his back and starting to push the buckshot out while healing the damage it caused. "Can you two carry Flint between you and get him to his car? Parael is providing us," She ducked when a head flew over hers. "Cover."</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover This whole thing was absolute chaos. These morons had the organization of domesticated cows. The only real reason they were getting this far was because of their inherent powers. Gray shook his head slightly as he listened to August. Surely she was thinking the same thing. Slipping a hand to another pouch he pulled out a small push-syringe of a dark muddled liquid and approached their captive. "Hold her steady. I don't want to miss or this will hurt more than it needs to."</s>	<\|message\|>Kaori Lyle Kaori felt a force hit her out of thin air. It was enough to knock her to the floor onto her back, her blade escaping her grasp. Her glowing eyes blinked, looking up at the face of a plain looking girl. Briefly, Kaori considered the multiple ways she could punish her for getting in her way: a bullet to the belly, the blade through the chest, or a bite to her unprotected neck. But the exchange that occurred in the next moments made her pause. They were discussing her kidnapping, she realized, as a taser changed hands. It didn't frighten or concern her as much as it confused her. From the scent of these three creatures - and the unmistakable stench of wild cat in the air - she could tell that this was little more than a rebel group of misplaced beings. But she couldn't fathom what logic would prompt them to attack a vampire coven with no real knowledge or organization, and then try to take one home. Idiocy. The girl tried to pull Kaori to her feet. Like hell you're taking me anywhere... But she stood. Even she, a creature of chaos, could feel the turmoil around her getting out of hand. There was gunfire, and a seemingly continuous low rumble of growls and snarls. It wouldn't end, not when these attackers were so clearly outnumbered and unprepared, yet annoyingly persistent. It would be destruction, if not within, then when another group of Nemsemet's vampire subordinates caught word. She needed to leave. She allowed herself to be lead from the building by a pair of insignificant hands around her wrists. Not particularly strong, she noted. Yet, the girl handled her unnecessarily roughly, seeing as she hadn't made an effort to resist just yet. Kaori felt a sense of rage building, desperate to snap and tear her captor down. Wait, she reminded herself. Acting now would only invite the reciprocation of her whole party. Despite how capable she believed herself to be, it would be more difficult to escape multiples versus just one. Also, she had no way of knowing exactly what form of creatures accompanied her, or their strength. She found herself pressed to a wall with the dinky device pressed against her abdomen. This seemed to be as far as the girl was going to take her for now. This would have to do. "Tony and Flint need rescuing! How soon can you get there?" the plain girl said. Kaori noted how her eyes never left her face. She couldn't help but spread her lips in an amused grin. Her face wasn't where the danger was. "Hold her steady. I don't want to miss or this will hurt more than it needs to." Her eyes darted to the voice. That scent. A low rumble rolled in her chest. She knew that scent. She took a second, maybe two, to take in the closer view of what must have been a hunter. He didn't look strong, not particularly intimidating. Yet somehow, he had stolen her kill once. In a way, that made it more offensive. She also caught the glint of a strange syringe in his hand. Not good. She didn't need to know what was in it to decide that she didn't want it in her body. The girl had 'secured' the vampires wrists with her own hands. What happened next took place in seconds. Kaori took hold of the girls wrist which had been vulnerable just by being so close to her grasp. She tugged her forward with a sharp jerk, turning in the same movement to rotate and deliver a kick to the back of her knees. The force should be enough to knock the girl from her feet and send her crashing into the wall. With a fling of a hand, she send a small blade slicing through the air towards the hunter with the syringe. It was well aimed, but she suspected he would find a way to dodge it. Kaori was gone before she could find out. She took a few running strides down the sidewalk, and made a sharp turn into a shady looking ally way. From there, she lauched herself up, gripping the lower rungs of a fire-escape ladder. She climbed - or sprung - upwards until she hit the roof. She took off, her speed paying off as she hopped from one roof-top to the next, clearing about three before the attackers below should have a chance to respond.</s>
<\|description\|>Kaori Lyle Age: 42 (Appears Early 20's) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire Physical Description: Talents:- Immortality - Enhanced strength and agility - Enhanced Senses - Healing - Experienced with firearms and blades - Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes History:During the Vietnam War, Kaori's father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised. In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family's decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income. In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of 'work' into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her 'change' into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles. Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively. Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence. Psychological Profile:Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn't exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn't opposed to taking a life, she also doesn't murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she's always been a bit of a loner and doesn't confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it's unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty. Possessions:-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother -A small arsenal of firearms -Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent.</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover The hidden blade that flew at Gray's face was a bit of a surprise. He twisted to the side and deflected it by raising his right arm. It scratched at his armored forearm before clattering to the ground. She was fast and strong, quickly breaking the hold Beth had on her and slipping away into the darkness. Leave it to the disembodied spirit to hold someone down! Catch her or subdue the would-be lord surrounded by his minions? Gray took the easier option. He didn't have time to retrieve his shotgun if he wanted to catch her which alone would be a tricky feat. Instead he picked up the gym bag that still lay close on the ground and started sprinting after her. It was a good thing he wasn't a particularly big guy because that would make running a lot harder. Scaling the fire escape to follow her on the roof was not a feasible option. Plus it led right into any trap she could lay. Gray ran through the alleys below trying to head her off from the ground. This was unfamiliar terrain, he was disadvantaged but it would be better than trying to out-climb something as feral as a vampire. He slowed his pace in order to listen to the movements above. These buildings were thankfully only a few stories high so he could still hear footsteps as she ran atop the roofs. If she got any further away he might lose her. Good thing the block was about to end. Hope she can't leap fifty feet or this would be one hell of a chase.</s> <\|message\|>Parael Magnus The sword was fucking heavy. Much heavier than his own back at the (ruined) Daycare, so Parry's slices and dices among the vamps in the front lobby were much slower than he was used to. A Dawn Blade was a Dawn Blade to a Celestial, but they were unique snowflake weapons, made by the higher ups for each foot soldier. Plus this was Cymriel's sword, Cymriel's wings he was using. Kind of like borrowing your buddy's gun for the evening. If the police traced the serial number without looking at the prints, well, Cym would be up the Creek and Parry would be facing consequences for how he used it. Ducking, weaving, and parrying was the name of the game then. The maitre'd vampire, Jean, took one look at Parry in the fight and booked it for the kitchen- and Parry let him go. When one of the higher vamps took a swipe at him, Parry went ahead and gave the guy a once-through the arm at the wrist. The vamp's hand dropped to the floor, but Parry didn't follow through, too busy making his way through the melee toward the head snake. Billy Rikker was on his hands and knees near the back of the foyer, licking Celestial blood out of the carpet with some of his senior vamps. This whole thing needed to end. Billy had a hundred Thralls and easily half as many pure-vamps in his service, but that number could be cut in half from the wounded and dead they'd piled up. Problem was, Parry knew Billy had more muscle than this and the group only got this far by surprise alone. They needed a bargaining chip to get out of this mess. "Tony!" Parry yelled, pointing at the head Vamp with his free hand. Hopefully the were-Tiger would get the message over the melee. They needed a hostage to get out of here alive. Or an opportunity to cut the head off this snake. Billy had clout over a lot of the supernaturals in the East Side. A few shifter packs, a witch coven, even a minor fae court. They probably wouldn't throw in with Tony just because Billy was dead or captured, but they might reconsider their loyalties after their leashes were cut. Parry, meanwhile, let Autumn and Gray (YUMMY!) book it for the vamp that had run out the front door. Parry was content to let them go for her, unfurling his wings fully to block the Entrance/Exit doors so the horde didn't follow them out into the streets.</s> <\|message\|>Beth Callahan. On instinct Beth flickered in and out of tangibility to avoid the swipe of a blade and in an attempt to seize hold of the vampire girl again. The first proved successful, but the girl managed to slip away before Beth could solidify her hand, and sped off down the street via the rooftops. Beth's hand slammed against the brick wall; she felt only an opposing force. Her speed was nothing compared to a vampire, even one so young, and the farther she went from the club, the less she knew of her allies' fate. But with so many of them busy, and their mission still fruitless, she took chase alongside the hunter. Unlike Gray, she knew the layout of this town so well she could draw a better map than Google if she wanted. She dashed through alleys and office blocks, taking as many natural and supernatural shortcuts as she was privy to, until she caught sight of the vampire once again. The long line of buildings came short there; this was their best opportunity. Beth scanned the street around her for something useful and, finding only trash cans, garbage and broken pieces of glass, sent it all flying towards the vampire. The trash cans went first, a trail of garbage left in the air. She applied as much telekinetic force to the throw that she hoped it would knock the bitch off her feet. The glass went next, and Beth aimed low. Vampires endured the worst but she only hoped to subdue the girl. "If you have anything useful in that bag of yours, now is the time!" she shouted across the alley to Gray. It would take the both of them, and perhaps another if anyone had bothered to follow them, to take and keep the vampire down. She spared him a brief look, and began to consider throwing him onto the roof. The idea was too good to waste time debating. Beth manipulated the energies around Gray, picked him up of the ground as a means of warning him, before tossing him onto the roof in front of the vampire. It would be a rocky landing, but she got him there.</s> <\|message\|>Karram Sylian Could any aspect of this mission go as planned? The thought made Karram's head ache like before. The winged angel version of Parael was flying around wielding god knows what kind of mystical blade, Flint and Tony were down for the count, and now the vampire hostage was on the run. Karram wanted to face-palm but felt it better to tag along with Beth and Gray as they pursued their desired target. The vampire was skilled and experienced. But Karram calculated that the three of them together would be enough to capture her, so long as no additional surprises sprang out of nowhere. Karram watched as Beth manipulated trash cans and bottles and glass pieces, hurling them at the roof runner with great precision. Then she yelled at Gray and sent him flying onto a rooftop nearer to their target. "I'll back him up!" Karram spread his ethereal wings and zipped past Beth heading upward to assist Gray as he landed. By darting to the vampire's rear, he and Gray would have her flanked. As he flew, he drew his dagger and prepared to throw it to the side of the vamp's feet to hopefully halt her from changing course. With that, he reached the target and aimed the dagger at her feet. He stopped on a dime, hovering a few feet back from her. Karram noted a nearby tree on the street corner at the end of the rooftop. Could be a useful tactic if she attempts to run again... he thought to himself before turning his attention back to the female vampire. His sword was drawn still and he wore a determined expression as he stared at her back. "Why don't you stop running, okay?" Karram could see Gray was still holding onto the mystery bag of goodies. Hopefully something in there was strong enough to put their vampire friend here down for a bit. If not, Karram may have to delve into his repertoire of sleep-inducing magic and see if that works.</s>	<\|message\|>Kaori Lyle Kaori had sprinted from rooftop to rooftop gracefully, like a bird soaring in the air. The darkly colored silk robe she wore trailed behind her in the night like a cape, its floral design catching the glint of moonlight every so often. She gained speed as she went, skipping and leaping over the gaps between buildings until she finally came to the end of the block. She stopped short of the ledge. Looking across the street to the next rooftop, she knew she was unlikely to make a jump that far. It would be foolish to attempt it, and would likely slow her down even more if she tumbled and broke a leg. It would heal, but she didn't have time to wait. The sound of foot-steps and bated breath alerted her to the pursuit coming up behind her from below. Three pounding heartbeats, she counted. And again, the distinct scent of the hunter who had stolen her prey. Her own pulse pounded in her ears. Long, delicate fingers curled into fists at her sides as she considered the ways she might correct that wrong. Within the medley of noise in her head, she experienced the unsettling feeling of one sound giving out. It was the same sort of sensation that occurred when one side of a pair of headphones stopped working. She refocused to realize that the running steps below had come to halt. Dammit. I have to keep moving. Just as she began to move towards the ledge, considering swinging down and finding an open window into the building, she caught movement in the corner of her eye. Kaori swerved to the side instinctually, narrowly avoiding a trash can and a line of randomized junk that had come flying with it. Her eyes darted to the direction it had come from, catching the slightest glint of light on a number of small shards of glass slicing through the air. She hit the ground. Normally, she might try to deflect it, or outrun it. Glass wouldn't kill her. It would, however, permanently damage the robe that had belonged to her deceased mother. Kaori pressed her hand to the back of her head to protect her long hair as well. Her dark locks had suffered enough damage for the night. She felt the slightest pinch when one shard nicked the back of her hand as it sailed by. She could hear yelling on the street below. She recognized the voice of the plain female, "If you have anything useful in that bag of yours, now is the time!" Kaori stood again, bracing herself for what was to come next. It was a surprise to see the hunter land before her. "You," she hissed. It was difficult to say what Kaori actually felt concerning the hunter. It was an odd sense of predatory obsession. She was only absently aware of the sound of beating wings behind her. With each breath she took, she was reminded of the night she had first encountered the hunter. She had never forgotten that scent. It nearly pushed her to leap from where she stood to tackle him to the ground. But she stayed still. They had her flanked. Her narrowed eyes - an unsettling contrast to the smooth femininity of her features - never left the face of the hunter. She studied him, as if she were trying to read a very dense book. "What do you want with me?" she finally asked. In the back of her mind, she contemplated the ways she might escape. Speed, and the nighttime shadow would be on her side. Yet, her curiosity over this brazen human kept her rooted.</s>
<\|description\|>Kaori Lyle Age: 42 (Appears Early 20's) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire Physical Description: Talents:- Immortality - Enhanced strength and agility - Enhanced Senses - Healing - Experienced with firearms and blades - Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes History:During the Vietnam War, Kaori's father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised. In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family's decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income. In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of 'work' into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her 'change' into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles. Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively. Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence. Psychological Profile:Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn't exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn't opposed to taking a life, she also doesn't murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she's always been a bit of a loner and doesn't confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it's unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty. Possessions:-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother -A small arsenal of firearms -Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent.</s> <\|message\|>Kaori Lyle "We're not in an asking mood..." She was enraged, and yet she almost had to laugh. Don't I feel like a lady. She was completely engaged with the hunter. "Do you honestly believe I would willingly help you against Nemsemet?" She gave an unbelieving shake of her head. Even as she glared at him, her wine-colored eyes carried warm undertones. As if it were the only part of her being that might still be human. Her icy tone was a stark contrast. Each word felt like a bite at the air, "You're incredibly foolish, human. You assault my people, and then you invite me to my own death." She paused, her head tilting as her eyes dipped low for a brief moment, judging his profile. "You don't even know what you're asking," she dismissively stated. And you didn't even say 'please.' Vaguely, she was aware of the presence behind her. She wasn't quite sure the nature of being he was, but she had surprise on her side. This hunter - human - would never be able to match her speed quickly enough to defend himself in a significant way. It was unlikely that she was going to get out of here unscathed, but she might as well enjoy the fight. After all, she was a creature of violence, and she didn't like his attitude. Seconds after the last word left her lips, she kicked off of the rooftop. She sprung from her place so quickly, it was almost a blur. Her body collided with the hunter. All of the concentrated - and complicated - fury she felt towards him exploded from her as she tackled him to the ground with a animalistic snarl. Her attack wasn't coordinated or thought through like her actions of evasion had been. This was purely instinctual. Now that she was close, so close she feel his pulse through his flesh, his scent was intoxicating. It made her lightheaded, but it didn't matter, because she didn't plan to resist the urge to part her lips and bury her teeth into the flesh around his shoulder. With a final draw of his aroma, she did just that, piercing the skin in search of crimson heat.</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover The vampiress had lunged with such speed and ferocity that it was too fast for him to react. She grabbed hold of him and the two tumbled across the roof until she had him pinned. He had lost hold of the bag as they rolled, some of the contents spilling onto the roof. Visible was a long metal spike, a metal bat still half-concealed by the bag, and an aerosol can. A set of fangs pricked his shoulder. It would have been more painful if he weren't already full of adrenaline. Gray moved his left hand quickly to draw the syringe from its place in his front pocket while drawing a Glock with his right, the same arm she was now drinking his lifeblood from. She in her fury smacked the syringe from his hand, pinned his arm and continued to draw from him. It clattered to the side. With his handgun he started to unload the magazine into her abdomen while using the painful opportunity to shove her off of him. Her teeth tore a chunk from his shoulder. She definitely looked more the monster now. He rolled to side to the closest equipment - the bag. What he grabbed was the metal spike. Sure, special wood could kill a vampire. He didn't want to kill her though. He wanted to paralyze her and if the syringe wouldn't work then filling her heart with some cold metal would. If this didn't work he may have to behead her and abandon the information before she leeched more of his life away.</s> <\|message\|>Karram Sylian Karram was surprised to see the vampire lunge for Gray, and even more so that the attempt succeeded in bringing him down. The syringe toppled from his hand along with the bag, but he was all too quick to act. Karram heard several shots fire from within the scuffle before he even had the chance to move. Then, as Karram ran closer grabbing up his dagger, he noticed Gray push her off and grab a metal spike from the bag. Karram rushed over, throwing his dagger accurately into her left thigh before rolling to swiftly pick up the syringe. Sheathing his blade, Karram switched his approach and simply attempted to kick their vampire friend square in the face, with the intention of allowing Gray the opportunity to strike in which Karram could deliver the decisive blow: the concoction contained in the syringe, whatever it may be. Seamless timing would be required, for the vampire's reflexes were definitely faster than theirs. And as usual with this group, the pair didn't really have a well-thought-out plan; but rather a stream of quick glances to signal the conjoined attack. Kick. Metal spike. Syringe. Sleep magic. Detain. And so, Karram and Gray executed their respective moves and hoped for the best. Karram used one hand to deliver the syringe to her arm and the other to gently touch her forehead while mouthing his faerie incantation of sleep. Then he quickly backed off and watched in anticipation for things to kick in, all the while placing a hand on the hilt of Oakbane. If the strange concoction wasn't enough to bring her down for the trip back to the bunker, then Karram's magical touch should act as the final component in finally knocking her out. His magic was not as powerful as some of his more experienced relatives, but it still packed a punch. This has got to work, he thought.</s> <\|message\|>Beth Callahan. Damn them all. Damn every last one of their merry band of revolutionaries. If Parael wasn't already getting a piece of someone's mind, Beth would be sure to deliver it herself. Hell, she might still do it. If everyone had kept to the original plan, the plan they had spent time and energy working out in the midst of dealing with whoever the hell that Autumn woman was and her lapdog, they'd be interrogating this vampire chick. Perhaps even getting somewhere on the Nemsemet front. What sort of threat did this pose to an ancient dread mummy? Instead, Beth stood in a pile of garbage waiting for Karram and the fucking hunter to subdue the aforementioned vampire chick. At least they wouldn't be leaving empty-handed, so long as the boys did their jobs. Beth'd be damned too if she let them go back to the bunker with nothing to show for it. She relied on the clatter of steel and empty thuds to tell her they were still fighting up on the roof. With what shreds remained of her faith in people -- and that came from little itself -- she entrusted them with the task and bolted out of the alley. She ran across the street to the nearest car, a second-hand sort of deal, no one would miss it. Should Gray and Karram succeed in abducting the vampire, the van would be far too crowded, and waiting for the others slowed them down further. Beth sifted through the side of the car and resumed a solid state. Back when she had a body of her own, she wired enough cars to know exactly what she to do when she took apart the steering column. She considered jacking Flint's car once, shortly after she heard a cop started digging into her affairs, and only hours before all the dying nonsense. In a few minutes she had the beat up car running and pulled it into the alley. She shouted up to the roof, "Get a move on!"</s>	<\|message\|>Kaori Lyle Sinking her teeth into the soft tissue of the hunters shoulder was like extending a muscle after sitting still for too long. It was a natural movement, and immensely satisfying. The taste of warm blood on her lips, fresh from the flesh, made her body quiver. Everything about it - the thickness of the fluid, the warmth, the rich flavor - filled her with euphoria. Her veins ached for it as the taste rolled down the back of her tongue and into her throat. It had been too long, and each time she fed felt that way. She was in constant need, and the brief moments of satisfaction were as electric as intimacy to mortals. Her fingers coiled around the fabric of the hunters shirt. She clung to him as if he were a being endeared to her. A potentially terrifying encounter for him was a strangely intimate and spiritual ritual for a vampire. She was distracted from her bliss when he shifted beneath her. As a mortal, he was terribly slow in her eyes. With split focus, she half-heartedly swatted the needle from his hand as if it were nothing more than a pesky fly. She was too busy with the task at hand to give it much though, too preoccupied with- BOOM. The sound of thunder tore through her mind. The force of it hit her core like a battering ram. It wasn't the first time she had been shot, but it wasn't the sort of thing you ever got used to. She recoiled instinctively, finding herself shoved off of her meal. In her delirium, it took the pain a moment to overtake the ecstasy of the feed. When it did, it came sharply, cutting through her joy like a sharpened blade. She gave a pained and furious cry, her lips and belly dripping with crimson. The gunshot seemed to pop-off a thousand different strikes, attacks suddenly coming from all sides. She sloppily jerked away from an oncoming dagger. It clattered uselessly across the ground. Shakily, she struggled to drag herself to her hands and feet, but abandoned the task to lift her hands to deflect the swift kick that nearly connected with her blood-stained face. She wasn't fast enough to avoid the metal spike. It pierced through her and into her heart, tearing a hole in her shirt and her body. She inhaled a harsh gasp. The pain was so sharp, she didn't notice the prick of her skin when the syringe was injected. She only distantly heard the mumble of strange words, and felt the weight of sleep descend upon her. Her tense, trembling limbs began to soften. Within moments, her bloodied body went limp as her eyes fell shut.</s>
<\|description\|>Kaori Lyle Age: 42 (Appears Early 20's) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire Physical Description: Talents:- Immortality - Enhanced strength and agility - Enhanced Senses - Healing - Experienced with firearms and blades - Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes History:During the Vietnam War, Kaori's father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised. In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family's decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income. In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of 'work' into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her 'change' into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles. Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively. Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence. Psychological Profile:Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn't exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn't opposed to taking a life, she also doesn't murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she's always been a bit of a loner and doesn't confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it's unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty. Possessions:-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother -A small arsenal of firearms -Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent.</s> <\|message\|>Arachne (Assumed name: Autumn Weltich) Since everyone got back they were all pretty on edge. Perry got an ear full but somehow it didn't seem enough. Arachne was not always a forgiving creature and something as botched as their last venture would spell major punishment at her company. But this wasn't her company so she held off and left it to the others. Maybe later. It was brought up that there was no kind of command at all and that they were just going about things all wrong. No kidding, she could tell that at the beginning. She had been lightly directing things before it all went South. However she doubted any of them trusted her enough to even bother bringing it up. Turning to Gray she looked at the room. "Probably best if one other person joins you, just in case." She moves her attention to to the group again. Oddly enough the only other person she'd seen that has a head on straight was the one that pointed out the problem. Nodding to herself she spoke up. "What about you? When things were falling apart you took it upon yourself to get everyone out. You didn't panic or lose it in a fight. So I think you would be a good candidate."</s> <\|message\|>Antonio Victor Barnes Tony shook his head, "No way on me. As soon as it gets intense, there's not much more than instinct to work off of. I can talk about things and plan things here, in a controlled and safe environment, but I am not someone you can look to for good judgment in the middle of a fight. That's not how it works." Sure, Tony had a background, but it was a day to day thing, an office and dealing with people within the confines of civilization. In a fight, when the blood was up, lycanthropes were as fast, strong and resilient as anything, just about, but their instincts took over, their primal nature brought to the fore, muting the intelligence of the human. It was a form in flux and enraged, and not even able to properly speak more than a couple words -- and he'd never bothered to try. But he knew his own limitations; he'd learned them a while ago in deciding how to stay fundamentally out of the society of the Courts and the parallel city of the supernatural and preferred to stay in the mortal world, doing mortal work and forking over a tithe to de Lacy so he could be left alone and in peace. Nemsemet put an end to it and dragged him into this world against his will, forcing him to face things he didn't want to face. He didn't like shaving in the mirror and thinking of the thing inside him that cut loose in some swampy jungle, killing, perhaps eating, people indiscriminately, operating off pure instinct. He already wasn't liking the idea that he might harm someone he knew or didn't want to harm in this situation, and it's why he advocated not going anywhere near the Steak Knife, but picking off a lone vampire instead.</s> <\|message\|>Flint White Flint sat on a fold out chair, he had changed a few moments before into a white shirt and pants, as the others had been resting. He listened to the conversation but preferred to stay out of it, cradling a bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He took turns with each, breathing in the smoke then taking a swig of whiskey. He eventually spoke up "I don't care who is the leader, as long as I don't have to call them sir and do a pirouette every time they ask, like those bastards in command in 1917. Im telling ya, give a man a badge and he thinks he owns the place, why I ought to hae given him a thing or two. Course I couldn't or I would have been reprimanded and at that point I didn't even know I could shoot fireballs or whatever. Anyway in that trench my buddies used to…" Flint began to ramble on about some story of taking a German trench, a few racial slurs where mixed in here and there and most people would find it best to ignore him. A hundred years of information does a lot on the human brain.</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir Tony was Rikive's first choice as well, but he pointed out why he wouldn't make a great leader in the thick of a fight. Unfortunately she had to agree, berserkers were great for breaking enemy lines but for leadership roles? Not so much. Beth mentioned Flint and she supposed he would make-and he was drunkenly rambling about some war in 1917. Right, he was out as well. Rikive was mulling over the other's and what she knew of them, when she realized Autumn was talking to her. "What, me?" She asked, blinking in surprise that someone was considering her for the position. Because she had kept calm in the throws of a battle? Many of the other's had kept level heads as well. She suppose, she did come from a culture the prizes fighting above all else. She did use to spend some time in her grandfather's hall, filled with all the great fallen warriors. But...Did that qualify her to actually lead anyone? She frowned in thought, comparing herself to other viable candidates. "I...suppose?" She responded with a small shrug, not sure what to say. She had never been put in this position before. "The final say falls to the group though." She said, making a small motion with her hand to everyone else in the room. "If they agree then, I will step forward to lead."</s> <\|message\|>Karram Sylian Karram had enjoyed the ride to the bunker. It was the first peaceful experience he'd had since joining this band of supernaturals. But it ended prematurely once they arrived. He and Gray dragged their vampire prisoner inside and Beth tied her to a chair. Then she was stored away for safe keeping, with Gray hungrily wanting to stand guard. However, as Karram returned to the main room, he noted the uncomfortable tension in the air and heard talk of needed leadership. And of course he agreed, but the question was more so who it should be to lead them. Mention of the fairy court made Karram's elongated ears perk up. And before he could speak on the matter, the fairy queen was dismissed as distrustful... this made Karram grit his teeth a bit, but he quelled his desire to shout down her throat. Despite his personal history and the misconception towards faerie loyalty, Karram and his people were a very tightly knit group and this went doubly for the Faerie Queen. A couple subtle breaths and Karram was able to return to a state of diplomacy. It was at this time that several name were thrown into the pot, so to speak. Karram pondered the options carefully. Tony was the initial person to gather them all up, and he was a born leader. But like he said, he had moments in which his mental state could be easily compromised. And Flint... well, Flint was an intelligent sorcerer but his general laze and attitude would make for an unfit leader overall. And his near-drunken monologue just proved the point further. But then Rikive was nominated by Autumn. Karram's brow lifted slightly at the thought; she had just dissed his Queen, but her battle prowess, experience and courage were definitely qualities that fit the bill. "I vote Rikive. She has a good balance of qualities that make her as perfect a candidate as we're going to get in this team. And obviously she doesn't have to go it alone; she can make the decisions and organize and command our 'ranks', but delegate duties she cannot fulfill to those in the group who better fit the scenario. And for the record," he darted a stern look at Rikive, "My Queen is not untrustworthy." Karram felt better getting that last part off his chest. It may have been an awkward summation to make after his more than diplomatic speech on behalf of the very person that mentioned his queen, but he shrugged off the thought and turned to check on the vampire once more. His demeanor had once again changed back to carefree. He waved back at the group as he headed for the vamp, "But obviously I'm not the only vote that counts."</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover Gray didn't take his gaze off of the prone figure. "Alright August. We'll do it that way." He leaned forward to look at her closer. To an untrained personage this vampire looked quite dead but if a vampire never moved they would be mistaken for a corpse because they were. The hunter took a steady grip on the spike and on their captive's left shoulder and began tugging. The puckering wound issued out globs of dark blood as the spike was carefully removed. The air was permeated by the sick sound of a pressurized wound letting air in. Discarding the stained piece of metal into the hallway he noted Karram was coming. "Hey. If you're joining us I'd suggest staying at the door. We don't need everyone in here but we just might need your help in a moment." Gray turned back to their guest and addressed both August and Karram. "She'll be stirring soon." Finally he took a seat, rubbing his shoulder absentmindedly.</s>	<\|message\|>Kaori Lyle In her sleep, Kaori didn't exactly dream, but rather reflected. The vision that came to her took her back to the modest home of her human life. Through those eyes, the world had been so much dimmer, and so unclear. She couldn't focus on more than one sight at a time. It felt like she had cotton in her ears when she couldn't discern the sounds from the next room, or count the number of heartbeats in the small building. She felt horribly weak. Slowly - so slowly - she rotated where she stood in the small, plain kitchen that had belonged to her mortal family. The little room, with its sad implications of poverty, felt as if it had a chokehold around her throat, suffocating her. It was strange, the feeling of suffocation after not needing air for so many years. Through her muffled ears, she heard the sound of footsteps behind her, and the kind, affectionate calling of her name, "Kaori?" Her frail body softened at the tone, reacting from a place of emotion. Why? She turned towards the voice that sung out from the doorway only a few feet from where she stood. In the voice's body, she recognized pieces of herself. Like a puzzle of a self-portriat that had been put together slightly inaccurately. The body was too short, and a little more wrinkled than she. But somewhere in those pieces, she recognized the smooth slope of her own cheeks, and the dark, comfortable depth of her eyes that had never quite gone away. "Mom," she breathed, shattering the cold resolve of her new life to experience, for a rare moment, the painful warmth of human longing. ---- Her dark lashes trembled, and then slowly blinked apart. It was the first movement she made, and the only other sign of life was the enrichment of her pale skin tone when her blood began to pump. She didn't gasp for the air the way they did in the movies. She didn't need air. The vampire's keen eyes opened to a dank space. She could feel the dust particles on her skin, and as she took her first breath, she could smell it in the air. She rolled her head from where it had been resting against the wall to look ahead, finding the room littered with random chairs, one of which held the hunter. Her eyes narrowed a bit. It was partially a look of distaste for him, but mostly an expression of confusion. The room was unfamiliar, and the last she could remember of the hunter was draining his blood on the rooftop. She ran the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip where the blood had since dried. How long had it been? When she tried to sit up, she winced at the still-closing chest wound. Her stomach had healed since taking a gut-full of lead. Between the two injuries, her shirt had been torn to near-rags, and was covered in dried and fresh pools of blood. She took a glance at the decorative robe that hung from her shoulders. It had survived the encounter in one piece with only a few bloodspots. She shifted a bit in her bounds, looking around the room warily, like a wounded animal. For a vampire, she was weakened. She might still be capable of holding her own against an inexperienced mortal, but it was unlikely that she would be breaking out of this room full of supernatural beings in her current state. Finally, she closed back in on the hunter, "Where...am I?" she weakly managed. Out of the heat of battle, her voice was surprisingly and distinctly feminine.</s>
<\|description\|>Kaori Lyle Age: 42 (Appears Early 20's) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire Physical Description: Talents:- Immortality - Enhanced strength and agility - Enhanced Senses - Healing - Experienced with firearms and blades - Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes History:During the Vietnam War, Kaori's father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised. In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family's decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income. In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of 'work' into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her 'change' into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles. Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively. Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence. Psychological Profile:Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn't exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn't opposed to taking a life, she also doesn't murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she's always been a bit of a loner and doesn't confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it's unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty. Possessions:-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother -A small arsenal of firearms -Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent.</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir So, I'm a leader now. Rikive thought to herself, standing up from where she sat and watched a few of the other's head into the room to 'question' the vampire. She as confident they would be able to take care it while she rested before their next move. Walking to the room where her sword and cot were, she considered the idea of approaching the Fairy Queen. She said that she didn't trust her, but she hadn't completely dismissed the idea. Despite Karram's loyalty and protest, Rikive still doubted the Queen's trustworthiness. She had met her once and the encounter had...gone less then well, to say the least. The Queen of Fairies seemed prone to flights of fancy and other such whims. One day she may agree to help them, but the next she could bury a knife in their backs and turn them over to Nemsemet. Or she could be allies with Nemsemet already and trying to go to her would result in their destruction. It was true that de Lacy hadn't been able to control the Fairy Court, but Nemsemet clearly didn't operate like de Lacy. Would the benefits of an alliance outweigh the risks though? The kind of magic Fairies held was nothing to scoff at and would be immensely beneficial. But it was also why she was so wary. The Queen certainly wouldn't help them for free either. She could hear two sets of conversation inside of the bunker, one was the interrogation of the vampire and the other sounded like it was between Flint and Parael. The conversations overlapped, making it hard for her to distinguish what was being said other than a few key words here and there. It sounded like Parael was telling Flint about his true nature as a Celestial. Nothing overtly concerning, but Parael's tone sounded off. Not surprising, she knew how Parael felt about his...retirement. Frowning, she wondered how he was handling having his wings back. She hadn't had much of a chance to talk to him about everything that happened. Check on her friend and then she would lay down for a few hours. Rikive blinked when Flint emerged from the bathroom in front of her, flask in hand and she wanted to shake her head. She let him pass before walking up to the door and standing next to it, not wanting to go inside out of respect for Parael's privacy. "Parael? Are you alright?" She asked, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe.</s> <\|message\|>Parael Magnus Parry sat himself down on the toilet, hugging himself, trying to get the feeling out of his stomach. Whoever was toying with his sword was definitely passing it between one person and another. Two sets of memories were flooding through to him- equally brutal, equally depraved. And every time someone touched that sword, it was like they were touching him- grabbing him. Possessing him. A Celestial's sword was a powerful thing. When Parry was formed, his sword was formed with him. It was equal parts weapon, conduit and symbol of office. It didn't grant the power to completely control Parry, mindfucking him into a killing machine that murdered everyone in the bunker or gave away their location. But just touching that sword allowed whoever had it to reach into the core of his being, that font of the Nether he called his soul, the most intimate of places, and he would know they were there. So when Rikive showed up, waiting for an answer, he was absolutely torn in two about what to say. There were no secrets between them. Rikive had bailed him out more than once in the past few months alone, and Parry had done the same. She alone knew what he was from the beginning. At the same time, he'd already fucked up once. Hard. There was absolutely no way to call it anything else. That the enemy had his sword and potentially had power over him was a sobering thought. The blade was passed back to the woman. The summoner. That demon-tainted spirit touched him again, brushed at his center, and that forced him to make a decision. "No, I'm not," Parry said, his voice breaking a little bit as he spoke. One hand reached up to his bare chest, still smelling of melon soap, while his eyes grew red and watery. "I think... I think the Mummy has my sword."</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir Rikive's eyes widened hearing his voice break, hearing the pain in it, just as much as the words. So the sword that she saw Parael use wasn't his. Nemsemet had Parael's real sword? This was bad, this was very bad. She took in a deep breath, collecting herself so she appeared calm and opened the bathroom door, stepping inside. Seeing Parael scared and on the verge of tears made her heart ache. She walked over to him and crouched down next to him. She reached out and gripped his hand, squeezing it gently yet firmly. She couldn't lie to him and tell him everything would be okay. It wasn't okay. If the enemy had Parael's sword, they had him over a barrel. "We'll get it back." She promised him, looking up at him and smiling as best she could. She hoped they could get it back before anything was done to Parael, but she wasn't sure. If at this very moment Nemsemet or one of the people that served him had it in their possession...They might already be too late. "I'll get it back." Rikive promised a bit more firmly, squeezing his hand. "You're my brother Parael. I'm right here with you and I'll do whatever I can to help you."</s> <\|message\|>Parael Magnus "I'm sorry," Parry said, finally breaking down when Rikive took his hand. "I keep fucking up. I'm not... I'm impossible. I'm not pulling my weight. Getting in everyone else's way. I'm just-" 'Over a barrel' wasn't the most pleasant phrase, but it was exactly how Parry felt right now. He'd tried some freaky shit in the past 500 years (and an awful lot in the last 500 days) but it was always consensual and fun. Right now he could only wait and hope that whoever had his sword wasn't sure what it could do or how they might use it. Truthfully, the blade was just a blade in any mortal's hands. Dangerous and impossibly sharp for something that looked like it'd been dug up in an archaeological dig. Still deadly. Any hope of that happening, of someone being completely unaware of what they held ran out the window and into another zip code as he felt that dark touch at his core retract, just like it had when passed between the two dark forces, but quickly exploded outward into his veins, up his muscles, down to the tips of his toes and the length of his hair. Not an attack spell or a curse. A probe. Whoever had his sword was sweeping through him and would know for a fact what he was. Where he was? Probably not. Magic was powerful but it didn't hold a candle to GPS. Still, Parry forced himself to shut his eyes in case whoever was "scanning" him could see through him. "Riki, I need you to go," he all but yelled. "I need you to leave. I want you to stay- I do- but if you want to be safe, you need to go now!" Any wards Parry might put on himself were useless so long as Nemsemet had the Dawn Blade. He was over a barrel. And the enemy had an open door to him.</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir Rikive shot up to her feet when Parael curled in on himself as though he was in pain and started yelling at her. Something was happening, damn the heavenly realms! Someone was doing something to Parael's sword. Panic rushed through her, not sure what Parael meant by her needing to leave for her own safety. "What's wrong?" She asked him, grabbing onto his shoulders. "Nevermind my safety, you're the one under attack! Please, tell me what's happening Parael. What in the Nine worlds are they doing to you?" Why couldn't she have inherited better magical skills from her mother? If she had better developed magic, maybe she could have battled against whatever was happening to her friend. A human and a Light Elf have a halfling child and that mortal could wield magic and cast spells on par with their supernatural parent. They were some of the most powerful mages to walk the Earth. Yet she was the offspring of a damned God and a Light Elf and the only magic she could cast was to heal bodily injuries. Even then there was a limit and it could be a drain on her. She had never felt so frustrated with her lack of magic until now, when her friend, someone she thought of as a brother, was clearly suffering in front of her and she couldn't do a thing to stop it. It brought forth the fresh memory of watching Parael die under her hands. She could almost feel the warm, slick substance of his blood on her hands again. She caught herself before she tightened her grip on Parael and took in a deep breath. She may not have magic, but she did have her strength. She had Winterthorn. There was magic in that stubborn, dusty old blade, she knew there was. She was going to unlock it if it was the last thing she did.</s>	<\|message\|>Kaori Lyle It was always an unusual experience when a vampire's prey was left standing. When they died, it was simple. They ceased to be, and all of their life became your own. However, when they lived on, the connection between a vampire and her prey could become...complex. On occasion, downright supernatural. It all depended on the strength of the individual bond. There would often be some sort of emotional connection, or fixation that spawned out of the personal feelings of the vampire herself. A mild attraction to a prey could become full-blown infatuation. Such situations usually ended in destruction. For Kaori, the ugly mass of feelings she harbored toward the hunter took on a new edge. She now had a keen sense for him. His scent, even more prominent than before, could slice through a room of heated mortals like a beacon. His action spurred her to reaction, stoked the vicious flame of her emotion in an antagonistic way. So when he condescendingly addressed her as "little lady," it was all she could do not to leap across the room and rip his throat out. These connections, after all, were not typically positive. "Gray Conover," she repeated. The name rolled across her tongue like an ocean wave, smooth and powerfully possessive, "I've always tried not to name my food." That last line seemed a little too taunting to be delivered in such a pleasing voice. It contrasted in a rather disturbing way. She couldn't help herself. He had recently become the favored mouse to her cat. "This city doesn't need a mortal to save it, especially one that doesn't know what he's dealing with," there was nothing teasing about that statement. It was painfully obvious in her red-wine eyes. She gave a small, weary shake of her head against the wall as her eyes flitted towards the hallway where footsteps sounded ahead of not-so-distant conversation. "Don't you realize your own people don't even trust you?" she said, referencing to the comment Beth had made about her interrogation to the group in the other room. "Why would I trust you with my name?" By now, the dank room was full of varying supernatural beings. She shifted uneasily under the weight of so many eyes. She felt trapped, as they had intended her to be. Whatever concoction they had injected her with still lingered in her system with an oppressive grip. Slowly, she was healing, with her strength gradually returning. But for now, she was cornered, bound with her back to the wall. Even if she could break the rope in her weakened state, where would she go from there? In her scheming, she inhaled the room around her, trying to get an idea of who she was dealing with. Her body instinctually tensed at the scent of lycan, her smooth features wrinkling in distaste, "I didn't realize you kept a house-cat," she dryly remarked. To her, it was akin to the unpleasant smell of wet dog.</s>
<\|description\|>Kaori Lyle Age: 42 (Appears Early 20's) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire Physical Description: Talents:- Immortality - Enhanced strength and agility - Enhanced Senses - Healing - Experienced with firearms and blades - Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes History:During the Vietnam War, Kaori's father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised. In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family's decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income. In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of 'work' into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her 'change' into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles. Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively. Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence. Psychological Profile:Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn't exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn't opposed to taking a life, she also doesn't murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she's always been a bit of a loner and doesn't confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it's unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty. Possessions:-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother -A small arsenal of firearms -Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent.</s> <\|message\|>Kaori Lyle Once the discussion had finally fell silent, Kaori lowered her eyes, contemplating. Voices had come at her from each side. Minus a few threats that she didn't respond well to, she couldn't deny the logic of the arguments that came from Gray, the nameless brunette, and the one whom she had come to identify as the lycan. Well, all but that last bit he had so cattily thrown in. Immediately, she wanted to disregard the lycan, with his fowl breath and wild animal smell. But, she had to admit that such thoughts pertaining to the fate of the supernaturals had occurred to her in the past. Were they doomed under Nemsemet's leadership? Of course. She had known this from the beginning. He would lead the city of supernaturals to their destruction. She had laid low in the wake of his terror, unwilling to accept their fate, but knowing it was inevitable. No one would be foolish enough to oppose him, would they? And here was a group of random beings thrown together, stepping on each others toes, trying to find a way. She took a breath, preparing to speak, not completely sure of what was going to come out when she heard a distant voice in the silence. "...they know what they have. Charles Gordon knows what he has." Charles Gordon. She seemed to turn inside herself as she weighed the implications of that name. It had been a long time since she'd heard it. "You kicked the hornets nest," she finally mumbled in that youthful, soprano voice. "Fine. If I decide to help you, we have to agree on a few things." She stood to her feet here, surprisingly graceful for someone with her hands tied behind her back. The wound in her chest, though sore, had finally stopped bleeding. Her arms tensed, and in the next moments there was a stretch, and then the snap of rope behind her back. She brought her arms to the front of her body, casually rubbing at the spot where her pale flesh had been reddened by her bounds. "First of all, if you want my help, stop threatening me. It's putting me in a really foul mood, and I already don't like most of you." Her eyes shifted to the direction of the lycan and rolled away in irritation, "Second, you don't ask for my name. I can't be sure that anyone knows I'm here right now, and I don't want to be on their hit-list if and when this thing goes south. And finally..." She gave a quick glance over her attire with a wearied sigh, bloodied and torn from battle with these beasts, "You let me shower." She paused, placing her hands on her hips and looking over the pairs of eyes that were staring back at her, "Agreed?"</s> <\|message\|>Parael Magnus Parry gave Rikive a hug back, steadying his breathing as best he could after that burst of memory from Charles Gordon. It was quickly apparent to him that any memories he could hit Charles with, Charles packed an equal punch to throw back with the caveat that the vampiric sociopath didn't give a flying shit about. Parry could show him the extinction of a dozen cities and it would be no skin off that man's nose. Meanwhile, Parry would have to sit there and take it if Charles decided to send any more delightful memories through the sword. After Rikive left, Parry took a second to gather up his emotions and thoughts, along with his clothes. The absence of Charles' tainted fingers on his sword didn't change the fact that Parry felt his soul was forever dirtied by it. Sooner or later, Charles or his associate would lay hands on the sword again and the feeling would return. Parry would have to live with it. Just like he would have to live with whatever they did with the weapon. Like that image he had of the sword- his sword- slicing through Billy Rikker's spine like a knife through water. When he followed Rikive down the hall of the bunker and into the "interrogation room" where their vampire was being held, Parry had his hair in a ponytail, his skin still scrubbed red and smelling of expensive melon soap, and his jeans and Gucci shirt were horribly damp. "Shower's free," he said to the vampire. "And news flash to the group. Charles Gordon used my personal sword to kill Billy Rikker. Whoever the fuck Charles Gordon is."</s> <\|message\|>Beth Callahan. Beth rolled her eyes again. "Yes, I agree, why don't you just leave?" she replied, visibly sizing up the hunter. In spite of his help in capturing the vampire, Beth would feel infinitely more comfortable without him present. The man vanquished people like each of those in the bunker on the regular, and beside that, she did not appreciate his attitude. "We're not savages," she said, straightening her back. "We can keep this from the outside eye. You certainly aren't going to do a better job." She shook her head and turned to the vampire. "Can you believe him?" Circling the room at a languid pace, she continued her observations of its inhabitants. She held herself in check, and such a thing took strength, when Autumn spoke. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm already dead," would not be met well, and nor would it help their cause. So Beth kept quiet, even when Flint returned; she could trust Tony to say what she was thinking. And just as their captive seemed ready to cooperate, the girl changed. Her stature altered in the slightest of manners, in a way only someone paying close attention would notice. It was a quarter inch movement of the shoulders, or a tilt of the head just so. Beth lifted her head a fraction when the sound of strong, determined footfalls carried through the bunker. Reluctantly, she pulled her eyes away from the vampire upon hearing her name. She gave the Asgardian a nod, then slowly followed her into the hall. Even as she walked some few feet from the doorway, she could hear the vampire's words. For a moment, a small smile played on the ghost's ethereal face. The girl positively vibrated with information... and a quiet tenacity Beth respected. She regarded Rikive, but before she could question anything, Parael sailed by them and into the room. His voice was clear when he spoke, very little trace of the screaming they'd heard earlier, and so the name reached her in full. Charles Gordon. The name set in motion a visceral recollection of shared memories that left her feeling defiled, in the same way someone marching on her grave might. The hive-mind of memories among the undead opened itself to individuals without prompting and whenever it pleased, and Beth had yet to meet any ghost with the ability to choose what they saw. She picked up the nauseating scene of a massacre of Cheyenne hundreds of years ago, where Charles Gordon fought and killed under another's command, a long time ago in conversation with an old ghost who provided her with the odd lesson on burials and ancient magic. Experiencing it again worsened the feeling. "He's at least two hundred years old," she announced, standing in the doorway. "And experienced in war. He fought to kill Native Americans, one battle I can verify, the rest, I'm guessing he didn't join in just for the one go at it." She crossed her arms, frowning. "Anyone else like to share?"</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover "For the record; I haven't threatened you since you woke up." Gray smirked at their suddenly privileged guest. "Yes, I agree, why don't you just leave?" Beth suggest. "Yeah I think I will." Gray responded. His eyes narrowed in a scowl at the ghost. For someone with a weight lighter than air she certainly liked to throw it around. A heavy sigh escaped his mask as he left the room. He stayed just long enough to catch what the vampire shared. What was the point? In this zoo Gray felt like the star attraction because he was simply human. At the lone room in the end of the hall he took a seat on a crate. This was one of the store rooms and was just as good as any other unoccupied room to fume in. Sleeping here would be dangerous. The vampire that had just tried to eat him only hours earlier would now be walking around. Gray leaned back against the wall and yawned. The sun would be up really soon. It would be a good time to take Beth's suggestion and do something while everyone else did what they always did so well. Hide.</s>	<\|message\|>Kaori Lyle Kaori observed the banter between the hunter and the ghostly girl with mild amusement. "For the record; I haven't threatened you since you woke up," Gray directed at her from behind the oddly comical mask. She didn't need to see his face to know he was probably smirking, she could sense that in his voice. The faintest trace of a smile crept onto her pink lips. This chase would be thrilling. It would be a shame when it came to a close, and the hunter's life ended. Briefly, she fantasized about the possibility of savoring his life, keeping him in her service. Something about that picture seemed wrong, though. She had never been a fan of the mindless company of thralls. Would his blood taste as sweet if he couldn't defend himself? No, his life would come to a dramatic, climax of an ending, and it would be all the more satisfying because of its ferocity. Beth's words pulled her from her daydream like a bucket of ice water, "Can you believe him?" Something about her opposition to Gray sparked a flame of possessiveness in Kaori – an animal protective of its kill. She took the words "Shower's free," as the groups concession to her conditions. Rather than dwell here, and divulge sensitive information to a risky, rag-tag group of desperate supernatural beings, Kaori wanted to sprint from the room in the direction of the shower. She was a lone-wolf by nature. It was natural to prefer her privacy as she recovered. The cleansing touch of water would wash away the red soaked into her skin and matted in her midnight hair. She would be strong and radiant when she emerged, her most comfortable state. But instead, she resigned to her task when Beth piped up again, "Anyone else like to share?" Kaori looked out into many a pair of eyes that watched her expectantly, as if she were a goose about to lay a golden egg. She perched on the edge of a small table near the corner of the room, her leather-clad legs crossing one over the other. She didn't want to display it, but she was still feeling rather weak, and the breaking of her bounds had cost more of her energy than she cared to let on. "If Rikker died at the hands of Charles Gordon, I'm afraid your problems have multiplied," she began. She felt as if she were a teacher in the midst of a group of children, eager for their story. She continued, "From what I've heard, he used to be pretty notorious for his duels. It's an old fashioned tradition, no one really gets involved except for old vampires with a sense of 'honor' or something, but Gordon's were especially ugly. I've personally never met him - he's probably closer to the three times my age - but from what I've heard, he's ruthless in a way that makes Rikker look like a kitten." She paused, considering for a moment, "Rikker was...sloppy as a leader. Too distracted with profit. Gordon is a military man. Imagine if you took the raw power of a vampire and organized them, made them into soldiers. That's what you'll be dealing with if Charles Gordon is involved. Plus, he knows you're coming." Casually, she lifted a hand to touch the shaft of her long hair, assessing the mess of blood that had caked some of the locks together. She was desperate for that shower. "I may have some information that could help you even the playing field...there's a storehouse in the city that de Lacy used to keep heavily guarded. I can't say for sure what's inside, but whatever it is must be either extremely valuable or lethal. With the recent power change, I'm guessing no one's claimed it yet." She looked up at the group expectantly, "I can take you there, if we're all clear about my terms?" she pressed, making it clear that she wanted their explicit agreement.</s>
<\|description\|>Kaori Lyle Age: 42 (Appears Early 20's) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire Physical Description: Talents:- Immortality - Enhanced strength and agility - Enhanced Senses - Healing - Experienced with firearms and blades - Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes History:During the Vietnam War, Kaori's father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised. In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family's decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income. In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of 'work' into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her 'change' into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles. Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively. Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence. Psychological Profile:Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn't exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn't opposed to taking a life, she also doesn't murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she's always been a bit of a loner and doesn't confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it's unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty. Possessions:-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother -A small arsenal of firearms -Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent.</s> <\|message\|>Parael Magnus Murdering Native Americans. A guy who loves to strut his stuff as a soldier. Generally cold, all business, and ready to pounce on a goon who didn't salute promptly? Definitely sounded like the kind of guy who had his grubby palms all over Parry's sword. "Well, the good news is he can't really use my sword to do anything crazy- like blow up the sun or enslave the human race. It's, like, fingerprint locked to me, so he's just got a really, really, really sharp sword." Parry nodded at Exie. "I think we should go for the spooky warehouse that may-or-may-not be a trap meant to kill us all. Not that my vote counts for anything. Unless our dear leader has any other ideas?" Parry waited for Rikive to speak- either assenting or changing the plan. He'd follow the Norse demi-goddess to Hel and back with no complaints, if they could get to Hel from this city.</s> <\|message\|>Antonio Victor Barnes Gordon was, like many vampires, uncomfortable watching magicians work their trade, and that never quite went away, especially as he paused to appreciate the potentials of magic users in the form of Anastasia Petrova, who was as ruthless and cunning as they came. She was creative and solution-oriented. At first glance, a vampire had considerable advantages and retained them in a surprise encounter. Speed, strength, ability to heal. However, a truly skilled sorceress, like Anastasia Petrova was, had the power to tap into the universe's underlying forces in a way that couldn't be explained, but the engineer in him appreciated that it was a force to be manipulated and that Anastasia sought to understand the rules so as to use them to her advantage. Given preparation, she could overcome the likes of Gordon. Some magicians were fire-slinging thugs, engines of destruction, but it was the subtle ones that exploited connections and figured out how to use magic to get around obstacles that gave Gordon cause for disquiet. For example, a thing with a connection to another thing, in the magical sense, could have that connection exploited. Which was why the sword sat in the middle of a circle along with other things they'd gleaned from Parael's visions -- the trappings of things childlike that they'd dug up, like a child's book, a diaper, Torah scrolls, his name and the word 'nephilim' written in the original Hebrew around the circle in the blood of a lamb, that being very much a biblical link -- the blood had power. Petrova was not necessarily a scholar of these things, but Gordon grew up with a degree of interest in the classics and was a connoisseur of the Old Testament, so he supplied some of the necessary flourishes to Petrova. She was working her chant, the old girl in the young body, wrapped in a red, pure linen, that being another connection to the Bible, moved about in a loosely flowing dance that built up a charge through the room, the feeling of humming that penetrated the marble floor and the columns of her chamber. The candles flickered though there was no wind to disrupt them that Gordon could feel as the circle became a battery, and the sword became a focus lens. As she moved in that agile, flowing way of hers, finely muscled calves and then some displayed in her attire, he reflected that as a mortal man, he might be drawn to the finely couture'd Parisian look that Anastasia favored; the eyes were perhaps a bit too unsettling, though, wise old eyes, hard and predatory, staring out from a haughty nose with a high brow and a mouth that could go stern very quickly. Much as she tried to affect the pose of a carefree, glamorous girl, she'd never be quite that. Too much blood under the fingernails, much like his sire. Had she not been a wizard and no doubt created precautions against him before he walked in, as he called ahead to announce himself, he might have been tempted to feed upon her then and there; he liked to hunt the dangerous game, after all. But right now, there was more afoot than merely the pleasure of feeding. With a shudder that he could perceive but not necessarily feel -- certainly not the way Anastasia Petrova did when she cried out her last syllable in the chant and threw herself in the air, as if providing a mighty momentum to something heavy -- the ritual was over, the candles were out and the sorceress was slumped. But she was smiling in that way of hers as she gathered herself up regally and informed Gordon, "It is done."</s> <\|message\|>Parael Magnus Parry was stepping out of the way for Kaori to head to the showers when it happened. One minute he had both feet planted firmly on the floor- the next he was suspended about an inch above the ground. He did a quick double take on the wings to see if Cym's were acting up and giving him trouble. Nope. No wings. And when he tried to move his arms to grab on to the door, he found he had about an inch of space before they were pulled back into a position at his sides. His legs, likewise, had no room to move. "Guys..." he whispered, hovering in place as the bonds tightened. "I fink we have a pwobwem." The sounds of chanting in old Hebrew echoed in Parry's brain as his eyes rolled back in his skull. Somewhere far away, he felt his sword- his own weapon- being acted on by forces beyond his control. Gordon and his other minion. Playing at something. Getting inside his core being, manipulating him through the blade. He knew a few things about human magic, and Gordon didn't have the power to kill him with just the sword by itself. Nor could he use it to trace Parry back to his current location- at best he'd get "somewhere on the East Side" as a result of that spell. Which begged the question- what was Gordon playing at? The contractions, when they started, wracked through every bone of Parry's body and seized his muscles in one massive charlie horse- the metaphysical bonds that held him suspended heated up, bright red circles forming on his wrists, ankles and one around his neck. The squeezing seized him from every side at once- left, right, up, down, and even from within- in heaving fits. Before the eyes of everyone present, Parry shrank by a whole foot. "Guys!" Another massive charlie horse, bones crunching and grinding as they warped into smaller versions of themselves. Another foot. Parry was left swimming in his jeans, his body less lean and defined- down to the size and height of a pre-teen. His eyes wide as saucers as Parry realized just what she was doing. If your enemy has a nuclear bomb, you don't just try to beat him with another nuke. You take away his nuke. At this size, Parry wouldn't be able to do much more than lift Cym's sword. The wings would be too bulky to manifest on Parry's body as well. "Gordon can't take my powers, so he's making me so I can't use them!" Another crack, pop, and muscle seizure made him flinch. His body curled up against its bonds, holding on for dear life as he felt the onset of one more massive muscle cramp approaching. "You gotta find mah sword!" The seizure slammed into Parry with all the force of a tidal wave, crashing and warping his body in seconds. Thrown into a whirlpool of magical energy, he finally lost it and actually yelled in pain from the incantation. The yell turned into a cry, which turned into a sob, which turned into a wail. What was left sitting on the floor, arcane bindings still on its wrists, was a child. Roughly two years old, pretty blond hair, and pudgy with baby fat. "Well dat fuckin' shucked!" Parry said after rubbing his eyes, then gaping open mouthed at his own pudgy fingers. "Guys! Gordon made me fat! We's gotta kill him now!"</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir Rikive narrowed her eyes as the vampire divulged her...helpful information. A mysterious warehouse that may have something inside that could help them? This coming from someone they took captive but now wanted to fight on their side? Rikive wasn't buying it for a second. It sounded like too much risk without knowing what the reward would be. Why were they even considering letting the vampire join them? They were just supposed to get information from her then kill her. Now the others were ready to let her into their fold? Rikive still had some doubts about Autumn and Gray, but she was going to draw the line at this. She wasn't going to risk the lives of these people on a hunch from the likes of the vampire. "All I've heard is 'maybe'." She spoke up after Parael drew the groups attention to her, folding her arms over her chest. Her pale green eyes glowering daggers into the vampires. "I don't want to risk anyone's life on 'maybe' and," She lowered her arms and took a step forward. "I am not going to-" She cut herself off when a chill ran up her spine and she sensed something fall over the bunker. Her eyes snapped over to Parael and she gasped seeing him suspended in the air as red marks like bindings appeared on his body. She reached out to grab him out of instinct. Her fingers felt like they hit an invisible wall for a moment before she was thrown back by the energy encasing Parael. Her body slammed into one of the concrete walls, the force of the impact cracking the stone underneath her. Rikive growled in anger as she dropped back onto the floor, perfectly fine after having what felt like a semi truck run into her. Hands clenched at her sides, all she could do was watch with growing anger and horror as Parael was turned into a toddler. Swears and other choice words fell out of her mouth in Old Norse, her tone laced with frustration. She turned and punched the concrete wall behind her and creating a good sized depression in the rock. She kept her fist there for a moment, taking in a deep breaths to calm herself back down. "Parael," She breathed out, lowering her hand and turning around to look down at toddler Parael. "You aren't fat. You're a baby. Again." She explained, jaw tight as she tried to calm down and think rationally again. It was hard considering not only was her friend in danger as long as Gordon had his sword, but their best weapon against Nemesemt was completely neutralized.</s>	<\|message\|>Kaori Lyle Kaori silently watched as Rikive refused her. She was statuesque in her quiet: cold, breathless and still. She could have argued, but at this point, she was growing weary of their constant bickering. The most reaction she could manage towards Rikive's power trip was minor irritation. At least with vampires, someone gave an order and everyone followed. It didn't speak highly of the group to realize that even the chaos of vampires was more organized than this. "I am not going to-" Then the whole dynamic of the room changed. Kaori stiffened as Parael underwent his transition. Not many things made her anxious, but this did. In a physical fight, Kaori was fast, strong and clever, and a reliable asset. Against this sort of dark magic, vampires held very little advantage. She watched as the man shrank and shrank, into the size of a toddler. He whined, and Rikive attended to him. In the aftermath, the room felt thick with tension. Kaori clenched her hands against her knee, being careful not to blood-stain the sleeves of her mothers vintage robe. "It seems to me that you could use all the help you can get," Kaori began. Her tone was very matter-of-fact as she stated the obvious, "You brought me here, not the other way around. If you don't want my help, I'd be happy to leave."</s>
<\|description\|>Kaori Lyle Age: 42 (Appears Early 20's) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire Physical Description: Talents:- Immortality - Enhanced strength and agility - Enhanced Senses - Healing - Experienced with firearms and blades - Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes History:During the Vietnam War, Kaori's father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised. In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family's decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income. In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of 'work' into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her 'change' into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles. Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively. Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence. Psychological Profile:Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn't exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn't opposed to taking a life, she also doesn't murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she's always been a bit of a loner and doesn't confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it's unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty. Possessions:-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother -A small arsenal of firearms -Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent.</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir Rikive shut her eyes and took in a deep breath. "Yes, Beth." She answered, opening her eyes again and looking over to the spirit. "Do what you have to and I'll ask Autumn to do the same. If she isn't already doing it." She said to her before turning to the others. "Alright, I guess we don't have much choice." She sighed, putting her hands on her hips. "To the warehouse we go, but this time we are going to have a plan and we are going to stick with it." In fact, they were going to have to make a few plans, of course not in the presence of their new vampire 'friend'.</s> <\|message\|>Antonio Victor Barnes Not, as it turned out, a warehouse in the traditional sense. Rather, it was the Schloss Holzberg, a manor home built in the 19th century by an industrialist that built the place in the German style, with turrets and rounded staircases, and much wrought iron. In 1907, tragedy struck the Holzberg family and ownership, through the will, reverted to a foundation that tried to do good works with the properties it inherited -- there was the name Holzberg on a library in Dorset, there was a symphony hall downtown with the same. Try as the Foundation might, however, the house itself was unattractive to buyers. The house was built of good stone and mortar and resembled more a castle than a city home. The house had occupants, renters, once in a while, but they did not stay very long. There was always a bad reputation attached to the place that clung to it like old ivy. The Foundation tried to turn it into a residential treatment facility, but the high rate of patient abuse and suicides and overall poor performance by the facility caused the city to shut it down; it was a scandal. As a result, the place lay abandoned for a decade and a half. Lying on the outskirts of the city, it was part of Holzberg Park, which shared less of the reputation for terrible things than the abandoned manor, but the reality was that Holzberg Park was a place where particularly sadistic vampires did their hunting, as it seemed to pick up more than its fair share of people with mental illness, living homeless, particularly after cuts were made in the 1980's to mental health institutions. The park itself had a leering, too-dark aspect to it, as the branches of trees along the bike and jogging paths seemed to hang down menacingly; by day, it was a muse for local artists, for night it was a place for hookers and drug dealers to ply their wares, and for drunk people with pre-existing illnesses to howl at the demons in their head. That was what the group was walking into; a place of wrought iron fences tipped with spearpoints on top, gargoyles that leered down, stout wooden doors and narrow windows set into towers.</s> <\|message\|>Parael Magnus Parry had tried to be patient with Tony and the others as they left the bunker deep underground. He really had. But this... this was beyond absurd. The onesie, while infantile, was still made by Calvin Klein, so he could in fact be caught dead wearing it. See also the Crock shoes he wore dangling from his feet. And he could suffer through the Huggies, seeing as they were all part of the facade in the first place. The baby sling around Tony's shoulders was uncomfortable, but it worked for transportation purposes. It was the fact that even as an adult Parry's mind and mouth had a tendency to wander, leaving him babbling on completely without a cause or care in the world during their drive here, that made Tony reach into Parry's bag and (much to Parry's surprise) remove a pacifier before shoving it in Parry's mouth. That had set Parry in a cross mood for two reasons: first, he didn't like being told (much less forced) to shut up, and second, his beloved bag should only ever answer his call. Why had it responded to Tony? He didn't have long to contemplate that fact since they parked the cars outside the Holzberg manner and stood awaiting the night's trials and tribulations. Parry shivered just looking at the place. He might not be a fully grown angel any more, but the spirits here were far from settled and the place stank of raw magic. Anything could be inside those gates- werewolves, witches, even Russians- and Parry wouldn't know it. "Fow the wecowd," Parry grumbled after removing the pacifier, fidgeting in his sling as he looked up at Tony, "baby fat makes a bad human shiewd. I won't stop any buwwets coming youw way." Which gave Parry an idea, if a small one. "Can you weach in the bag an' get me a mawkew? I can't cut off heads, but I can stiw dwaw wawds on you guys."</s> <\|message\|>Flint White Flint turned off the engine to his car and opened the door, standing outside too the view of the twisting manor that they were here to investigate. Flicking his cigarette butt on the floor, he walked over to the boot of his car and removed a violin case from within, he then went to the van to meet with the group. "What the hell are we doing here again?" Flint asked, going for another cigarette as he clicked his fingers to a flame, placing the violin case beside him. He had been here before, quite a while back now. A few vampire cases here and there, he wasn't pleased to be back. Too many 'modern gangsters' in recent times. Nothing like what Flint used to be, no style, no honour and no respect, and they couldn't shoot for shit. "What's the Plan?" He asked Rikive as he leant on the van, smoking his cigarette leisurely. If it was his decision, he would be going in alone. Using the knife on his belt to quickly and silently take out any guards that stood nearby, when he found what they where looking for he would either pick it up or if it where too heavy to simply take he would use his air manipulative powers to raise it a few inches from the ground and glide out of the manor.</s> <\|message\|>Rikive Heimdalsdóttir Rikive stared out into the park, looking into every shadow, crevice and nook she could. Searching for hidden enemies that were waiting to ambush them. She was brimming with energy again and ready for another fight. It was amazing the difference resting for a few hours could make. That and eating as much food as she could before they had to leave. So long as she didn't have to use her magic to bring someone back from the brink of death, she was good to go. Rikive resisted the urge to sigh when Flint posed his question. They had already gone over this, but Flint had been pretty intoxicated when they were planning."You really should cut back on drinking." She suggested, pulling a marker out of her back pocket to give to Parael. "We're going to going up to this place quietly." She explained, holding out her hand for Parael to draw the ward on. "We're going to split up and scout the place to see if anyone is home. We meet up again in no less than fifteen minutes, report our findings and then we'll head inside. Of course if there are guards we'll need to coordinate an attack. No one is going off alone though so pick someone to watch your back." She turned her head to look at the woman that brought them here. "I'll be pairing up with Kaori."</s> <\|message\|>Arachne (Assumed name: Autumn Weltich) Splitting up didn't sound like the greatest of ideas. But both Beth and herself scoped out the place as best they could. But the place was restless with previous events. Such places were not locations that Autumn wished to visit. Their wild card was out of commision wich was both a good an bad thing. Always the business woman the group thankfully did not saddle her with the toddling Celestial. It was only natural that she and Gray would team up. Them already having worked together it made sense to go with tried and true. This time however she was not going in unarmed. While not as well equipped as her friend she had brought along some firearms with at least some stopping power. Upon the offer of wards she had to stop and think about it. Most of the time she avoided them on her person as they could disrupt her guise. But given how little they had together she took out the marker and handed it to Perry. "What wards do you have in mind?"</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover Gray stretched and yawned as he climbed out of the car. Leaving his shotgun on its sling he slipped his mask on again. "I'm all game for the plan but what exactly do you think is in there? It helps to risk your life when you have some clue what your looking for otherwise this ends up being a hunt for a questing beast." The manor was quite large and he couldn't tell from here if there was an active power source inside or if it was running dark. With its history it could very well have cameras inside and a security room. This would all go faster if they could figure out what's inside and get out. There was something eerie about the place. The gargoyles on the roof were certainly part of it. Their textures seemed too realistic and detailed. Clouds rolled across the sky like swarming phantoms. It was going to get wet.</s>	<\|message\|>Kaori Lyle The ride over had been trying for Kaori. Gray's smell was too provocative for her to be in a small space with, and the scent of the lycan was foul. It was like spraying perfume over body-odor. Most of the ride she spent holding her breath. She was extremely relieved when they arrived at the small castle. Kaori could almost taste the anxious energy radiating off of the group. She didn't blame them. To someone unfamiliar with Holzberg manor, it looked like something out of a horror story. The property wasn't unfamiliar territory to a vampire. Although she and her kind never ventured inside the building, the park was a popular feeding ground if you had a taste for the macabre. She lowered herself from the vehicle, now clean and fully recharged. Her shirt had been obliterated from the struggle, so she had tied the dark robe around her torso. She imagined she looked more like a doll this way, delicate and unlike the beast that had nearly ripped their hunters throat out. But that was the nature of a vampire, to lure with charm and devour with ferocity. "I'll be pairing up with Kaori." It was obvious Rikive meant to play babysitter. "I'm flattered," she sarcastically responded. As the others offered their hands forward, Kaori crossed her arms casually in front of her chest. She meant to make the action unnoticeable. In the same way they didn't trust her, she didn't feel inclined to trust a group of rebel kidnappers.</s>
<\|description\|>Kaori Lyle Age: 42 (Appears Early 20's) Gender: Female Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire Physical Description: Talents:- Immortality - Enhanced strength and agility - Enhanced Senses - Healing - Experienced with firearms and blades - Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes History:During the Vietnam War, Kaori's father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised. In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family's decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income. In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of 'work' into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her 'change' into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles. Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively. Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence. Psychological Profile:Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn't exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn't opposed to taking a life, she also doesn't murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she's always been a bit of a loner and doesn't confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it's unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty. Possessions:-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother -A small arsenal of firearms -Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent.</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover The deluge started. With the others running ahead and otherwise taking cover he strolled along. It was like being in Oregon in the middle of the year where torrential downpours were commonplace. He enjoyed the sound of the rain and getting wet wasn't unpleasant to him. The patter gave way to a blinding sun that was completely out of place. The building that should have been there was replaced by a vibrant display of unfamiliar trees. The cool night air was replaced by a humidity that clung to you like a filthy diaper. "What?" He shook his head with a heavy sigh. "I hate magic. It'd be different if I had some. I wonder if Karram can fix this. Where am I anyway?" He conversed with himself.</s> <\|message\|>Flint White Flint had been taken by surprise by the sudden change of atmosphere. Of course if you had looked at him you wouldn't have noticed. He had preferred the rain however, to wherever he was now, too hot and damp. He began to rack his brain, really look around, it was some sort of forest he knew that much, and the fauna was not American, neither European. Maybe South American, hell for all he knew he could be in Asia. No, he had to stick with the facts, he was still at the manor home, just some kind of magic wards protecting the place. Flint began to walk along what seemed like a trodden path. He needed to find the manor, or at least whatever the manor was hidden under in this place. The ground under Flint began to become more messy, leaves seemingly covering where a path once was twigs seemingly placed to look random rather than naturally forming, it seemed someone was attempting to hide the path, or possibly to hide a trip… The thought was interrupted by the familiar click of a grenades pin being removed. Luckily Flint's reactions whereas on point as they were 60 years ago, and the man was covered in solid rock as the explosion occurred, the shrapnel chipping away at the dirt and stone but not making its way through, Flint shifted the barrier out of his way as he wiped the sweat off his brow. "That was a close one…" Flint muttered to himself, trailing off as he soon realised this wasn't any ordinary jungle, this was a battleground. Just not one he had thought in, it was a guerrilla war, a lot more sneakiness and a lot more camouflage. Like some of his brethren in Japan, the war Flint avoided to be shipped off to France. This was going to be 'fun'</s> <\|message\|>Arachne (Assumed name: Autumn Weltich) An explosion nearby alerted Autumn to someone else nearby. Kind of hard to miss a grenade going off. It was a semi-familiar sound even though she had not been in any wars. There were enough through history to educate her about many different weapons of war. Given that this was a illusion it was probably a safe bet to assume it was constructed from one of their minds. Given the terrain she would say Tony. This looked enough like Vietnam to draw a decent conclusion. It didn't entirely help though because they were still trapped. Sighing she began to make her way toward where she heard the explosion. On the way she stopped at one point. A nigh invisible line stretched across a clearing. She'd made enough webs for it to stand out clear as day. She practically invented this kind of thing. That wouldn't be the only trap around though. The ground and water were dangerous. Maybe it was time to forgo some of the things she was hiding. Losing her shoes she took to climbing over the vegetation. Her hands and feet easily clung to the foliage and made getting around much easier. Only down side was the noise it made. Most of the plant life wasn't strong enough to not flex under her weight. Beat finding a trap though. Before long she managed to spot Flint. Landing in a safe spot she stepped over to him. "Flint, stumbling around explosives?"</s> <\|message\|>Gray Conover A lanky figure knelt in the distance. Even with the dirtied clothing covering it there seemed to be something unsettling. Gray drew closer quietly, his feet barely rustling the grass. The kneeling figure breathed with short hard breaths, hyperventilating like a dog. The straw hat on their head shifted as Gray stepped a little too loud. Slowly the head turned. It stopped turning before he could see it. Rising to its feet it completed the revolution. Skin ashen like a dead man, face trapped in a state of terrifying rage, eyes that were shriveled from being unable to blink. Without those she would seem like a normal Vietnamese villager. With a deafening shriek of rage the 'blessed' of Abigor sprinted at Gray like an uncaring PCP addict. "Shit." Was what he managed before raising the shotgun level with her chest and unloading three shots. They stunned her for a moment before she started running again, practically unhindered by the more than a dozen bleeding holes scattered across her chest. After cranking off a few more shots the cursed woman closed the distance and despite severe wounds and clear holes through her face she screamed with unearthly fury, grabbing at the shotgun and disarming him. Gray happened to be still attached to the shotgun by a strap and was thrown along with the weapon by her beastly strength. Rolling back onto his feet as quickly as he could, he leveled his weapon instead for her right bicep. Bam, bam, bam! Splintered bone and sinew still allowed the worthless limb to cling onto the woman. She jolted forward, clearly unaffected by the pain of her mortal wound. "That's right!" Gray shouted, aiming for the throat. Another three bangs rang through the air. Vital fluids emptied from the devastating wound to her neck. The volume of her gurgling was unnerving as she kept moving forward. The kukri slid cleanly out of its sheathe on his chest. With a quick and strong sweep he cleaved into the unprotected flesh on the right side of her neck. The kukri met spine and Gray pulled it out. Blood spattered onto his vest. His unbalanced adversary was dizzy, no longer screaming and now tottering uneasily. He pulled the blade back and aimed at the neck one more time. This time the heavy silver knife sliced all the way through and the head sailed to the side. The body remained standing for another few seconds, the hand remaining intact reached out to grasp her enemy in a last fit of anger before falling free. Gray kicked the prone body a little. Comfortable that it could no longer try to kill him he wiped the bloody kukri off on a less sullied part of her clothing. "I hate these things." The knife was returned to its sheathe. These followers of rage and war were rarely alone. He looked around to make sure that there wasn't another hiding in wait to strike. His adversary's project wasn't at all comforting. The bed of razor-pointed bamboo spikes was half buried in the grass. "I hope the others are doing well." Gray spoke to himself.</s> <\|message\|>Beth Callahan. Against her better judgement, and for lack of any other idea, Beth pushed forward towards the sounds of gunfire and unnatural thunder. Whatever illusion this was, she maintained it was just that: an illusion. A realistic one at that, but nevertheless. She remained physically intangible, yet kept her eyes to the ground. Whenever she found a tripwire, she cautiously brushed apart the foliage on the ground. If luck prevailed, the disturbance would draw attention to the trap. Every so often the snap of a twig or rustling of leaves would bring Beth to her feet, but nothing came out of the trees, and no sounds followed those. She moved back several paces once, investigated all the hiding place she could find, and found nothing. She blamed the magic of the illusion for playing with her mind. At the sound of another burst of gunfire, nearer this time, she jogged ahead. Perhaps the sounds belonged to Flint, or Tony had retrieved a gun. She'd even welcome the hunter at this point. Emerging into a clearing, sure that this was where the sounds came from, Beth saw an old woman. A familiar old woman, sun-tanned, with wrinkles deep set in her cheeks and around her eyes, just as Beth remembered her. She stood clutching a rotting heart in one age-spotted hand and a ruby pendant in the other. I buried that, Beth reminded herself. The witch smiled at her, as though she weren't straining to crush either heart or ruby, but her eyes held no warmth. The witch had to be a construct of the illusion, for she had no place in the jungle. And still, fear crept into Beth's mind and clouded her logic with doubt. Heaviness began to set in. The light-weightedness she'd grown so used to ebbed away. The old witch swung the pendant gently side to side, while the odd thunderous rumble carried on elsewhere. Beth felt her knees hit solid ground and her hands fall into her lap, and all she could do was watch the ruby swing.</s>	<\|message\|>Kaori Lyle The rain had been so merciless, that it had soaked through the thick curtain of Kaori's ebony hair within the few moments it had lasted. Fantastic, she had sarcastically thought to herself. Although, even then, before the world around them changed to a jungle of bright light, she had felt as if something were off. She was not a very magically aware creature, but even she knew it was too peculiar for a sky-less night to suddenly erupt in downpour. Just as suddenly, it felt as if someone had pulled back the curtains on a lazy morning. The rainclouds parted and the sun seemed to explode into the night sky. It was all she was aware of. The ball of fire burning too close, too low and seeping into her skin like a thousand poisoned needles. She was instantly more animal than person. With a vicious hiss, she sprang from her spot beside Rikive and lunged for the closed sanctuary of a shadow. She found herself gripping a tree, clawing at its bark as if to hollow it out and envelop herself inside. Which, she might if she survived long enough. "How the hell should I know anything about this?!" she growled at Rikive. In her fear, she experienced a sort of fury that rode on the tails of adrenaline. She wasn't personally angry at Rikive, even though she would have thought that to be a stupid question, sun or not. The frustrated squeals that drew from her throat seemed to make that clear as she assaulted the tree bark. Somewhere in the back of her mind, it began to occur to her that she should have gone up in flames the instant the sun had licked her skin, but she was too panicked to really pause to think that through.</s>
<\|description\|>Sapphira Elvron Lux "What better way to live life than to live it to the betterment of others." Nicknames: Saph for short or Lux, which is the Latin word for "light" Aliases: Samantha Greene, Melissa Harrington, and Jade Morris Age: 121 Gender: Female DOB: Spring of 1895 Occupation: Transfer student & Guardians applicant Race: Fae • Light elf Hair Color: Platinum blonde Eye Color: Crystal blue Height and Build: 5'10" • Tall, lithe, & lightly toned Other Appearance: Thanks to her elven genes that inhibit aging once maturity is reached, she looks like she is only in her twenties despite being much older. Her skin in notably pale, much like her nearly white hair and extremely light blue eyes. She has small pointed "elf" ears that she is able to hide under her hair. Her appearance is captivating and feigns innocence. Her voice is eloquent and feminine History/bio: Many elves consider themselves superior to other races, human or supernatural, and would turn a blind eye to things that didn't effect them. However, the Lux family, which has lineage that can be traced back as far as England during the early Middle Ages, humbled themselves and became guardians of all races. They fought to protect supernatural beings from the humans, to protect humans from supernatural beings, and to protect supernatural beings from themselves. They essentially maintained peace for the good of all. Many generations prior to Sapphira, the Lux family became a part of the Guardians, an ancient organization of protectors of the supernatural world that has been around longer than the Gringore Academy. Sapphira grew up in a small community of Supernatural beings on the English countryside. She is an only child, born to a family of Guardians. Her mother was formerly a Guardian before Sapphira was born, while her father remained an active duty Guardian. From a young age, her mother instilled in her the chivalric virtues upheld by their family, of bravery, courtesy, and honor. Her mother taught her about both the supernatural world and the human world. By puberty, age fifty for elves, Sapphira was a wealth of knowledge and was only beginning to learn combat in earnest. Her father would come home as often as his Guardian duties would allow, which was not that often. Her mother was her teacher, best friend, and confidant. When she was not being taught by her mother, she would roughhouse with the local male "children," or explore the nearby forests on foot or on horseback. Sapphira's once peaceful life changed in 1999, the year she turned 104. It was the year she was suppose to go to the Guardian institute in London, England to take the test to become an official Guardian. Was being the operative word. That year her father was killed by malicious hunters. The hunter got away. Sapphira, of course, postponed going to the institute while the Supernatural community laid low and the Guardians upped their taskforce. Six years went by with seemingly little to no abnormal activity. During that time, she took on leadership positions within the community and continued training with her mother. She was getting ready to go to the institute when the hunters struck again. Sapphira's mother was killed in 2005 not too far from their home. Her world and the world of her Supernatural community fell to pieces. In the past eleven years, she has moved around a lot. She has spent time with her uncles and aunt in Italy, Romania, and Iceland respectively. She has done some traveling of her own as well. Everywhere she went the darkness of her past seemed to follow her like a shadow. She wanted more than anything to become the Guardian that her parents trained her to be. She wanted to protect others as they had done, even if it eventually led to her death. What better way to live life than to live it to the betterment of others. With some convincing, her uncle in Romania let her attend the Guardian institute in Timișoara and shadow him at his job for a few years. She eventually decided upon transferring to the up and coming Gringore Academy. Family/Relationships: The Lux family can be traced as far back as England during the early Middle Ages (5th to 15th century). Father • Deceased in 1999 Mother • Deceased in 2005 Two uncles • Father's side • Both Guardians • One in Italy & one in Romania Aunt • Mother's side • A Guardian • In Iceland Grandparents • Lost track of or deceased Other/Extra: She knows enough Romanian and Italian to hold a basic conversation. She loves horses and is a fairly good horseback rider.</s> <\|message\|>Penelope le Fay Cafeteria, town, it made no difference to her. Though it was times like these that she considered getting better, stronger, with her ability to travel through shadows. Sure, it was kind of cheating, but who wouldn't mind getting from point A to point B quicker? Especially if it was a walk into town from campus. Maybe that would be the area she worked on strengthening this year given she had little desire to figure out if she could get strong enough to summon undead or command vampires - the first might be useful, though creepy, and the latter...she knew enough about vampires to know she wouldn't want to find out how one would react to finding out they had been controlled. Penelope folded the flier up and shoved it into her back pocket while she walked with Tony. She preferred settling up plans right away than let them stagnate. It helped make sure it wasn't forgotten. Deciding what to eat was always so tough. Mostly because she never seemed to have an appetite. Considering all she had was a protein bar before a strenuous work out, she knew it was about time for an actual meal. So she got in line behind Tony and picked out a sandwich and a banana. Penelope had spotted the Wolfpack when they exited the line, but was going to ignore it until Tony kindly pointed them out. She did her best not to scowl, because there were a few that Tony was friendly with. But it was a tough thing to do - keep from matching glares with the upper rung members. The best she could do to not glare was keep a placid look on her face while making eye contact with the ones glaring. There was half a cafeteria between them and the Fitzroy Wolfpack, but that didn't really mean much when it came to the way shifters could move. She set her shoulders, leveling her gaze with Conrad - a member that lost out on being lieutenant to the current one, and the one member she butted with the most after her freshman year after he tried more than putting moves on her at a party - as she continued on toward a different table. "Probably best to not pick a fight with a sorry lot of sods so early in the day." Being on school grounds - they learned from experience - wouldn't matter much in the terms of explaining why two guardian applicants - auxiliary members to boot - got into a physical conflict with others from the student body. "Here's a good one," Penelope said as she rounded then sat at a table. It had the benefit of being well away from the wolfpack as well as being close enough to a wall to make sure she could see the whole cafeteria. One too many fights had her overly cautious and not wanting to give anyone a chance to get the drop on her from behind. At least, no one she had the chance of seeing. Maybe she'd eventually kick the habit, but it would doubtfully be while she was attending Gringore. She hid her glances around the room as best she could from others, but she knew Tony would notice. He always noticed. So she decided to make conversation with him between small bites of her sandwich. "So, excited for your final year? Looking forward to going to Rome for the test? That's coming up next summer, isn't it?" She knew it was coming up soon, before she was finished training here, and that she'd have to wait at least a year or two to take the test herself.</s> <\|message\|>Sapphira Elvron Lux "Don't sound so excited for it, Sapphira," he said with a chuckle. "Sorry," Sapphira replied to Jack. She was admittedly a bit amused by how easily he threw sarcasm back at her. Other than the occasional eye roll, she typically tried to refrain from being too "sassy" as her mother had called it. Some people are more easily offended, but Jack didn't seem to be one of those people. Nevertheless, she would try her best to be well-mannered towards him. She walked beside him as they headed towards the cafeteria. She had to slow down her long strides to match his more leisurely pace. She noted that they were similar in height, with him being only two inches taller than her 5'10" stature. "What lead you to want to be a Guardian? Being an elf, you've probably been alive for far longer than I have, so how long did it take for you to decide you wanted to do it?" he asked. "I was born into a long line of Guardians, so it is really all I know. Both my parents were Guardians, though my mother stopped going on missions when she was pregnant with me and thereafter. My mother homeschooled me and taught me the majority of what I know today. Given the way she raised me, I never really wanted to be anything but a Guardian," Sapphira explained. Truthfully she felt a pang of sadness in her heart at talking about her parents in the past tense, though she was skilled at not showing the emotion outwardly. She didn't think the sadness and anger from losing them would ever go away, no matter how long she lived. Instead of letting it destroy her, she worked hard to let it fuel her. She gave him a grateful smile when he courteously opened the door for her. She walked through the doorway and let her gaze take in her new surroundings. She recognized some of the people, namely the red headed woman with dark magic and the telekinetic Asian man. Her gaze then landed on the Fitzroy Wolfpack seated in the back corner. She had barely entered the cafeteria, and they were already brazenly checking her out! Her eyes narrowed slightly, the characteristic sign that she was getting annoyed or feeling threatened. She returned her gaze to Jack before she had a chance to do anything uncivil. It was best that she not start a fight unless utterly necessary. @Nightfury Kat</s> <\|message\|>Alason Iver Campbell Alas on shook his head and grinned. Always on the move. With a bit of a huff, he rose from the table and followed his new acquaintance at a walking pace not bothering to run after her but maintaining sight. He was just beginning to worry that Anwen might fully disappear from his range of vision when she seemed to stop at the base of a particularly hardy tree. Rationalizing it to be her home; or just something she found the littlest bit interesting, given her characterization thus far; he began walking a touch more quickly before eventually reaching the base of the tree. Looking up the colossal trunk, he wondered how someone could live like this. The isolation, of course, would drive one mad, but also it just seems so… "Cramped." He looked down at the expectant Anwen, resting in the dirt and roots as though it were nothing. She seemed to be allocating him some time to investigate, so he went back to investigating the tree. Running his hand up the trunk, he imagined the decades it must have taken to bring this beautiful creature to its current shape. Broadening his gaze to he surrounding vines and roots, he saw the little ecosystem at work: a miniature garden of Eden all working around a nymph with no idea how impressive—how beautiful—her world was. "Thanks for bringing me out here." But, Alason began to wonder, that begs another question. "Why did you bring me out here?"</s>	<\|message\|>Sapphira Elvron Lux Loki was woken up to a high pitch "kewee-kewee-kewee" coming from outside his apartment. He let out an annoyed groan and rolled out from under his sheets. He stopped to let his eyes adjust to the darkness as soon as his feet hit the floor beside his bed. It was definitely too early for any sane person to be up. His eyes quickly adjusted into his night vision, and he sleepily walked from his bedroom to the adjacent living room + kitchen. He threw open the screen door leading to the small balcony. His African crowned eagle Syxtar Shade was perched on the balcony railing and abruptly stopped its annoying "wake up call." "What?" Loki snapped as the cool early morning air bit at his bare chest. Shade cocked its head to the side and gazed at him with its piercing yellow eyes. "You want to go hunting. That's why you woke me up so early, right?" he questioned. Shade let out a sharp cry that grated on his ears. "Okay, okay. Hush up before someone hears you." He turned around and went back inside, leaving the screen door open. He took a quick shower; the bathroom like the rest of the apartment was small and unassuming. It wasn't completely desirable, but it beat living in the dorms at Gringore Academy. He tried that his first year. Tried being the operative word. He was close to murdering his obnoxious freshman roommates. After his shower, he looked through his closet for something suitable to wear in the woods. His closet was filled to the capacity with dark colored clothes, a large portion of which were suits. He pulled out a pair of dark blue jeans, a burgundy long sleeve shirt, black combat boots, a navy hunting vest, and a watch to complete the outfit. He grabbed one of the black suits and dress shoes to put in his car so he could possibly change into it later. When he was done getting ready, he peeked his head back outside. "You know the drill, Shade. Meet you at Gringore," he exclaimed before shutting the screen door. He then grabbed his car keys and headed out. While he drove, Shade flew high above, staying hidden the best it could. Loki and Shade ended up spending hours hunting and exploring in the forest and fields around Gringore. Shade was a born hunter and could dexterously maneuver its 5' wingspan. It caught multiple rodents with ease and ate several of its catches. By the time they started heading back to the academy, Loki was in a better mood, and Shade had a decent breakfast.</s>
<\|description\|>Séamus ó Faoláin Nicknames/Alias/AKA: Too many to remember Age: 134 Gender: Male DOB: June 27, 1882 Occupation: Student Race: Vampire Hair Color: Brown Eye Color: Brown Height and Build: 6' 4", muscular Other Appearance: Scar down his left bicep, scar down his right calf. History/bio: Séamus and Ruaidhrí, identical twin brothers, were born to a working class Irish family in Cork, in 1882. They lived a relatively regular life - for a poor family - until one night in 1895. Their family's home was broken into by vampires, and all of his family except for him, his brother Ruaidhrí, and his sister Mary were killed. Mary was taken away, and the vampires, having fed enough off of their family, decided to turn Séamus and Ruaidhrí into vampires. Séamus and Ruaidhrí traveled around Great Britain for three years until one night, when Séamus and Ruaidhrí attacked by a group of hunters. They managed to kill the hunters, the first humans they had killed. This had different effects on the two of them. Séamus loved the feeling of killing a human, and became sadistic and kill crazy. However, Ruaidhrí was distraught, and turned to religion. At this point, they separated. Séamus traveled all across Great Britain and Ireland, leaving a path of death as he went. In 1900, Séamus decided that he would travel through the rest of Europe. He traveled all over Europe for over 100 years, never staying in one place for too long. It was whilst traveling that he discovered his love for languages, although he still speaks in a Irish accent whenever speaking English. He also managed to get a daylight charmed necklace from a witch in France shortly after leaving England, which he always wears. Over the years, he has also trained his body to make sure that he is never killed by a hunter, and can kill whomever he wants. In 2014, Séamus found his brother Ruaidhrí, and they have been travelling together since, which has lead to Séamus having to kill less people, especially because of Ruaidhrí's newfound religion. Séamus and Ruaidhrí have come to Gringore Academy to get a proper education, being too poor for one when they was younger, and they still look like they are in their late teens. Family/Relationships: Mother - Jonathan: died 1895 Father - Mary: died 1895 Older brother - Jonathan: died 1895 Identical twin brother - Ruaidhrí: living Younger brother - Alexander: died 1895 Younger sister - Mary: Location unknown. Presumed deceased. Other/Extra: Séamus can speak English, French, Spanish, Italian, Irish, German, Czech, Romansh, Polish, Russian, and Hungarian. Full Name: Ruaidhrí ó Faoláin Nicknames/Alias/AKA: Too many to remember Age: 134 Gender: Male DOB: June 27, 1882 Occupation: Student Race: Vampire Hair Color: Brown Eye Color: Brown Height and Build: 6' 4", muscular Other Appearance: Scar down his chest, identification tattoo on his left arm. Always wears a kippah. History/bio: Séamus and Ruaidhrí, identical twin brothers, were born to a working class Irish family in Cork, in 1882. They lived a relatively regular life - for a poor family - until one night in 1895. Their family's home was broken into by vampires, and all of his family except for him, his brother Ruaidhrí, and his sister Mary were killed. Mary was taken away, and the vampires, having fed enough off of their family, decided to turn Séamus and Ruaidhrí into vampires. Séamus and Ruaidhrí traveled around Great Britain for three years until one night, when Séamus and Ruaidhrí attacked by a group of hunters. They managed to kill the hunters, the first humans they had killed. This had different effects on the two of them. Séamus loved the feeling of killing a human, and became sadistic and kill crazy. However, Ruaidhrí was distraught, and turned to religion. At this point, they separated. Ruaidhrí became very religious, and discovered Judaism. In 1899, Ruaidhrí decided to move to Germany to live with more Jews, and try to be as pious a Jew as possible, at least, as pious a Jew as it is possible for someone who feeds on blood to be. On his way, he gained a daylight charmed ring that he still wears. In 1914, with the beginning of the Great War, Ruaidhrí escaped to the Netherlands, and stayed there after the war. However, when it was invaded in 1940 he was captured, and taken to a Auschwitz to work in a factory. He never attempted escape, and was freed when the concentration camp was liberated in January 1945. At this point, Ruaidhrí decided to see what living in the Soviet Union was like. However, after a few years, he decided that he didn't like this, and moved to a Jewish community in the United Kingdom. In 2014, Ruaidhrí found his brother Séamus, and they have been travelling together since. Ruaidhrí still attempts to keep up his Judaism to the best of his ability. Séamus and Ruaidhrí have come to Gringore Academy to get a proper education, being too poor for one when they was younger, and they still look like they are in their late teens. Family/Relationships: Mother - Jonathan: died 1895 Father - Mary: died 1895 Older brother - Jonathan: died 1895 Identical twin brother - Séamus: living Younger brother - Alexander: died 1895 Younger sister - Mary: Location unknown. Presumed deceased. Other/Extra: Ruaidhrí can speak English, Irish, German, Polish, Russian, Dutch, Yiddish, and Hebrew.</s> <\|message\|>Julian Marino All the complimenting Séamus was doing of Julian's lifting convinced Julian that Séamus admired him and therefore was a good person to be around. This, along with the endorphins from the workout, put Julian in a good mood. He thought about starting school, and instead of feeling dread of the workload, felt excitement about learning new things. He thought for the first time that summer that he was ready to go back to school. After Julian asked Séamus how he got so big, Séamus' answer sparked Julian's curiosity, and he greedily pressed Séamus for more. "What is it? Could you do it now?" Séamus' statement that it was risky didn't slip past Julian's attention, and he wondered for a second whether he could really trust Séamus. Séamus was a vampire after all, and he had heard rumours about vampires during his time at the school. He decided that Séamus was so muscular, so he must know what he was doing, and complied with what Séamus told him to do next.</s> <\|message\|>Séamus ó Faoláin "What is it? Could you do it now?" Julian asked. Séamus grinned the widest he had grinned in a while. He couldn't believe that someone could be so gullible. In ten minutes, Julian would be eating out of the palm of his hand, and be that was just the first step in the plan. "Of course I can do it now, just follow me," Séamus told Julian, and began walking to the bathroom. "You see," Séamus said, "vampires have this chemical in their body. It's great for building muscle and getting taller, and it also helps with another thing," he told Julian, winking, "So all I need to do, is bite you, and inject some of that into you." Séamus could see that Julian was looking worried. "Don't worry, it won't hurt much at first, but then it'll stop hurting completely. And the best thing, is that once it's in you, I never need to put more in. It'll just stay there forever, and so will the benefits." he reassured him with lies. As they entered the bathroom, Séamus led Julian into a stall, locking it behind them. He grabbed Julian's shoulders, "Try to relax, it'll hurt less." Then, Séamus leant into his neck, piercing the skin with his fangs. He sucked some blood, about one pint, being quite thirsty. This, along with the venom that flowed in when Séamus stopped sucking, would be enough to make Julian pass out, but not a dangerous quantity. As soon as Séamus let go of Julian, he slumped against the wall of the stall and down to the ground, unconscious. When he woke up, Séamus would be able to tell him anything, and he'd believe him.</s> <\|message\|>Julian Marino As Julian followed Séamus towards the bathroom, Julian got the idea that they were about to take some illegal drugs or steroids. Séamus started to tell Julian about the chemicals in a vampire's body, and how Séamus would have to bite him, which sounded to Julian like something similar to injecting drugs. Being the party-lover that Julian was, he did have some experience with drugs although he didn't know which ones, but he had never bothered with steroids because he thought his werewolf genes allowed him to get strong enough. He was a little nervous about what Séamus was about to do. He wondered if anything permanently damaging could happen, since Séamus said the chemical would stay in his body forever. In the bathroom, Séamus grabbed Julian's shoulders, and Julian was surprised at how tense they were. Suddenly, there was a sharp stabbing pain in Julian's neck. Julian gritted his teeth as stars appeared in his eyes, his body rigid despite Séamus' advice for him to relax. He felt the blood being sucked out of his body and realized Séamus was letting his vampire side take over. Was Séamus trying to kill him? Julian tried to struggle against Séamus' jaws but found himself too weak to move. He felt a sensation of falling, but the world went dark before he hit the ground.</s> <\|message\|>Alason Iver Campbell It's not as though the pseudo-condominium wasn't well designed, after all, the subtle grading of nature into furniture was rather pleasing to the eye, but the small quarters, the lack of any separate rooms... and speaking of separate rooms, Alason had to wonder: "Do you not have a bathr-," ah, a silly question. A solid pat confirmed that the moss which constituted the bed was at least on par with his own mattress, if not better, but Alason's critical eye turned to wonderment upon seeing a rather out of place sword hanging on the wall. Foregoing tact, he ran his hand along the blade, feeling, hearing, tasting the metal with the tips of his middle and forefinger, a pattern of seemingly infinitely complex flora running beneath his hand. Drawing it back down, he rather cautiously examined a permanent living fixation to the guard - a red blossom - from which trailed a web of thorns. Curious. Alason was whipped back into the present by Anwen asking him something, though he did not quite catch what. He pieced it together, however, when she extended a handful of fresh raspberries. She placed them on a table to his left, and he was about to reach out and grab some when he noticed the spiraling form of a sleeping squirrel. The internal debate as to whether or not to still reach for the fruit was quickly ended by harrowing thoughts of rabies and needing to explain to his mother how he had followed a stranger to her treehouse in the woods and was bitten by her pet squirrel when he accepted her magical fruit. Perhaps I'd best not, he resolved, and placed his hand back at his side. "Forgive me if I'm insulting you, I'd just rather not-" Alason stopped, his mouth open perhaps two centimeters, as he realized that he was about to apologize for a social faux pas to a woman who had just, somehow without him even noticing, stripped down to the layer most minimally permitted to not be a crime. "Never mind." When Anwen asked him what his house was like, Alason wasn't quite sure how to answer. Rather, that is to say that he knew what his home was like, obviously, but why was she asking? It isn't as though he lives in some stone fortress surrounded by gargoyles and ravens as he walked about the corridors, filled with erect assemblages of dark, knightly armor, wearing mystical robes and chanting necromantic incantations. However, with a quick perusal of her face, Alason realized something quite pitiful: that's exactly what she was imagining. "I-," Alason contemplated lying, just for the sake of a story a touch more fun than the insufferably grey reality of his life, "I just live in one of the apartments. Second floor, room 208. That's about all there is to it." Despite his best efforts, Alason couldn't help but let a hint of blush bleed from his cheeks.</s>	<\|message\|>Séamus ó Faoláin Séamus leaned down, and picked up Julian's limp body, putting him over his shoulder. "Damn, he does need some more muscle, he's so light," he said to himself. Séamus walked back to his room, with Julian over his shoulder, making sure to go via corridors that would mean they wouldn't be seen. After a while, Séamus was back at his room, and he opened the door. "Anyone here?" he called out, but thankfully the room was empty. He put Julian down on his bed, and waited for him to wake up.</s>
<\|description\|>Morgan James Selwyn Nicknames/Alias/AKA: Morgie, though he rather dislikes it. Age: 19 Gender: Male DOB: June 27, 1997 Occupation: Student at Gringore Academy Race: Witch (Adaquare) Hair Color: Dark Brown Eye Color: Silver-Grey Height and Build: 5'7"; wiry and thin Other Appearance: Scars belying jagged tears and severe burns cover the majority of Morgan's back, from just above his tailbone to the nape of his neck. They make him feel vulnerable and thus he is typically seen wearing a scarf or high-collared jacket even during the hottest days of Summer. Though generally soft-spoken and reserved, Morgan's voice has a resonant quality that becomes apparent when he actually talks. Often it is difficult for him to look directly into the face or eyes of someone he does not know well or trust. History/bio: The coven Morgan belongs to is called the Selwyn Circle, named so after the original founding family. The coven is rather large, to the point that the members live in groups scattered across various states. They do not live in traditional families, and most marital pairs have what humans would consider to be an open, or non-exclusive relationship. Thus, almost every member of the circle is related to the others in one way or another, and most children have an abundance half- and full-blooded siblings. The Selwyn Circle considers itself a 'Natural' coven, and teach their children that magic is an intrinsic part of their being and spirit. Their abilities are a part of everyday life, and as such they receive little in the way of formal education and training as pertains to magic. Children are encouraged to practice and play with their Art, exploring their potential and strengths on their own, though not generally unsupervised. A child with a particularly strong or uncontrollable talent may be taken aside to be taught one-on-one, but it is very rare. Within the coven, most members are female and female children are favored more by their parents. They tend to receive more attention, and thus develop their abilities and strengths faster and to a greater degree than male children. Morgan grew up surrounded by sisters and half sisters, not to mention the general 'it takes a village' sentiment the Circle has considering the care of children. Most of his time was spent in the company of uncles or occasionally his father, practicing control over his abilities of his own volition. Even though most of his sisters progressed in their studies faster than him and generally could run circles around his comparatively simple spellwork, he often found that the sheer strength of his abilities outmatched theirs. Thus he was doubly an outcast, for he had no male companions his age and most of his sisters avoided him out of jealousy or were cruel to him out of spite. There were a few exceptions of course, most notably his eldest full sister, Piper. The story of Morgan's scars is largely one of mistakes and miscalculations. There came a day, not too long before his specialization was chosen, when he decided to practice on his own for once. Deep in the woods near his home was a small lake where he often went to clear his mind or simply get away from his family. Worn nearly to exhaustion by his practice and attempts to handle large amounts of power more precisely, he was entirely unable to defend himself when he was set upon by a vampire. She had seen him practicing and sought not only to slake her thirst, but also create a powerful thrall through consistent feeding. He was unable to stop himself from following her to her den. Morgan spent only a few hours there before Piper and his uncle Ruben tracked him down, having become worried when he did not return when he said he would. Near helpless, he watched as his sister and uncle cornered the vampire between his elaborate spellwork and her blasts of fire and lightning. Once caught so, the creature responded with no thought for its own well-being and fell savagely upon Ruben. As the light left his eyes, it sent Piper into a rage such as she had not experienced for years. In the heat of her anger, she incinerated the vampire. In the process, she nearly killed herself by overusing her magic and severely injured Morgan in the resulting blast. It was only after she regained consciousness that she was able to carry her brother back to their family for healing. Much of the damage was too extensive to be healed outright, but he was stabilized and recovered on his own over time. After the first healing and regaining consciousness of his own he refused to let another bear the pain of his wounds, for he considered the eventual scars to be a lesson to both himself and his sister, as well as a final and permanent reminder of his uncle. Piper still feels guilty over the hurt she gave to her brother, but covers it well with jests at his expense. It was years later that Morgan decided to forge is own path once more, in attending Gringore Academy. No others of his Circle had attended any similar establishment in the past, but neither that nor the misgivings of his mother were enough to stop him. He figured that he had progressed as far as he was able within the Circle, and had no desire to be restricted by the environment he considered to be oppressive. Piper and his father lent their support, and thus he left his family behind to become a boarding student at the Academy. Family/Relationships: Verona Selwyn (Naturalis) - Grandmother, Circle Leader - 72 Arthur Selwyn (Propheta) - Grandfather - (Deceased October 2011) Moira Selwyn (Naturalis) - Mother - 45 Victor Selwyn (Intelligere) - Father - 41 Ruben Selwyn (Fingumas) - Uncle - (Deceased March 2009) Michelle Selwyn (Propheta) - Half-Sister - 27 Piper Selwyn (Ignis) - Sister - 24 Verity Selwyn (Questum) - Half-Sister - 22 Primrose Selwyn (Terreni) - Sister - 17 Diana Selwyn - Sister - 12 Antony Selwyn - Half-Brother - 8 Other/Extra: Morgan plays the flute and piano, though he handles the first more ably. He considers himself to be a passable artist, often spending time outside for the sole purpose of sketching the forms of nature. He carries his grandfather's Grimoire as well as Ruben's in addition to his own slim book of notes. When he is not sketching, studying, or practicing his art, he is often found volunteering in the library at Gringore.</s> <\|message\|>Sapphira Elvron Lux Sapphira started her day early, just as the sun rose lazily into the sky. She had long since established the habit of waking up early, getting ready swiftly, and starting the day with a breath of fresh air. The forests surrounding the Gringore Academy called her name from the moment she arrived in Teemore a few days ago. Since then, she has spent little time in her simple dorm room and has extensively explored what her new home has to offer. After taking a quick shower, she towel dried her hair and ran a brush through her long platinum blonde locks. She then looked through her relatively small selection of clothes and shoes to find what to wear. She chose one of her go to outfits: skinny jeans, a simple top with a shawl or jacket, and combat boots. The skinny jeans were stretchy enough to be comfortable while accentuating her long legs, and the cream colored tank top had an emblem that reminded her of the mythical Tree of Life. She pulled out a pair of short, light brown boots and a black and cream shawl to wear over her tank top. She braided her hair into a partial French braid that almost completely covered her pointed ears. She left her face free of makeup as she usually does. She ventured outside to explore until the student orientation began. She strolled through the courtyard, admiring the beautiful flowers and thinking about what the year had to offer. Having already learned a lot from her mother and from the classes she took at the Guardian institute in Timișoara, Romania, her main focus was to go through the Guardian Training Program. She was confident she could pass the test to become an official Guardian. Time seemed to pass by quickly. She left early for student orientation and found a spot around the middle of the room. She listened intently to the different speakers: Principal Honeycutt, faculty members, and presidents of each school club. She noted that the noise level was a bit loud for her sensitive hearing. Overall, the orientation was informative, and she enjoyed being surrounded by a multitude of Supernatural beings. She may not be a Guardian yet, but she already swore to protect those around her and uphold the peace if the need arose. Her journey to her true calling was just beginning.</s> <\|message\|>Séamus ó Faoláin Séamus was bored. It was the morning of the first day of the new school year at Gringore - around four am. For a school filled with supernatural beings, there weren't many vampires out. Despite already being there for a day, Séamus hadn't bothered to try and find any other vampires. He knew that there was at least one other - that one being his brother. Séamus decided to use this as a good time to explore the school. Thankfully, most corridors were unlocked, presumably for the use of vampire students, and there were certain rooms that students could use. When he was in a corridor that he thought was empty, he began singing at the top of his voice, "Mr. Brightside". Séamus loved punk and rock from the 80s, 90s, and 00s. Unfortunately for Séamus, music just wasn't the same these days. On the other hand, it was still better than music from the 20s. Just as he was about to go through a set of double doors, a teacher, obviously a vampire, stepped out of her classroom. "Please, be quiet, there are people trying to work," she said with a stern voice. "Sorry, Miss," Séamus apologised. Just as the teacher stepped back into her room, Séamus muttered "Insegnanti stupidi." The teacher turned on her heels, replying, "Ho detto tranquillo." Séamus was shocked that she could speak Italian, and ran out of the building. He saw that it was almost morning, and decided to go to the briefing, and listen to music whilst he waited. --- Ruaidhrí was sitting at his desk on his and his brother's side of the room, reading The Recruit, by Robert Muchamore. He had decided that he should read a book series whilst he was at school, however, with all the free time that he had, he hadn't realised jsuty how quickly he would be able to read the books. It had taken him four hours to read this book so far, and he was nearing the end. At this rate, he would be done with the entire series within a fortnight. Ruaidhrí decided that he had better get some friends, preferably ones that would be able to stay up during the night with him. Whilst he liked his brother, he didn't like how "psychopathic" he could be sometimes. Ruaidhrí knew that there were two other boys on the other side of the room, however they were sleeping, and he hadn't spoken to them yet, so decided that he wouldn't speak to them until the morning. When the sun came up, and Ruaidhrí had just finished his book, he decided to set off to the briefing, wanting to make sure that he got a good seat.</s>	<\|message\|>Morgan James Selwyn Morgan rose with the sun, heading as per usual to an immediate hot shower. Shortly thereafter he was tugging on a simple dark blue button-up shirt and buckling a wide leather belt over dark jeans. A homemade knit black scarf went around his neck, followed by a hooded jacket with a thick trim. He was long used to wearing as much or more, to put something between his back and other people. His shoes were black leather, worn with use but heavy and comfortable. Thus attired, he ducked out of the dorm room and into the hall. There was still time before the orientation, and he wanted to explore a bit. Morgan already knew his way around the buildings to a certain degree, but today he was going out into the forest. Among the trees, he searched for a creek or small river. It didn't take him long to find one, and then find a good spot along it. There was a clearing around a small rocky beach, created as the bed of the waterway shifted over time. With what little time he had left, he made his way back to the Academy proper for the orientation. Morgan fidgeted impatiently the whole time, and exited as quickly as possible. He didn't like having to sit still for so long and was grateful to stretch his legs again afterward. With a quick glance around to the other gathered students, he considered returning to the clearing he had found earlier. One of the falling flyers landed on his head, and he held it long enough to read it before folding it and tucking it into a jacket pocket. It might be a good idea for later, but he was unsure of what to do for the moment.</s>
<\|description\|>Alason Iver Campbell Alason Appearance Seeming by most accounts unremarkable, Alason is but another face in the crowd to most, the only distinguishing features being the beginnings of a fine beard and a rather geometrically defined nose. Beyond this, however, Alason is nothing beyond a brown-haired, brown-eyed white guy scuttling about in a suit with some rather plain, black glasses. Speaking of the suit - for those of you who actually care - on a nearly daily basis Alason wears a suit grading from grey-blue to black, always worn with a sense of business and professionalism. The beard? Perhaps four steps away from pathetic. It hardly covers the face and only barely escapes judgement as mere stubble. Still, none of this is to say that he is particularly unattractive, rather, as aforementioned and as surely will be mentioned countless times more, Alason is neither attractive nor unattractive, neither this nor that, not anything; he merely is, and is quite content in anonymity. Age 31 Gender Male Date of Birth 20 August 1984 Occupation Civil Litigation Lawyer Race Quaestrum Witch Hair & Eye Color Brown Height and Build About 5'10", and ideally proportioned for a human. That is not to say that he has an optimized, hyper-athletic build, but rather that he is neither overweight nor underweight and is by all accounts an average, unremarkable, healthy male. A Brief History The first thing one must notice is the air of calm about her, an air which hardly dissipates when she beckons me over and dismisses the attendants. "I want you to see everything. I want you to understand properly the things that you never could." Cryptic, but after a moment I understand. I take her hand, splay it with her palm to the ceiling, and begin to run my fingers down the fine wrinkles of her hand. I close my eyes. The serene black is stolen from the inside of my eyelids and is immediately replaced with a blinding white. Pain, a pain that I've not felt before; it is as though my innards are retching about, churning and switching positions in some horrific game of musical chairs. A hospital. Doctors. More pain. A child. As the pain begins to give way to the sweet relaxation of endorphins, I hardly notice the passage of time before the newborn is presented to me. I know the face, and yet it is new to me. I love it. It almost takes away the bitter tinge of knowing that my husband is not here, but off doing God knows what in some filthy alley. Almost. Sift through the fluff. A toddler. Cute, but without identity. With the superfluous baby fat gone and the cheekbones beginning to set in properly, one can begin to see the resemblance between him and me. He plays in the yard, but again: where is the father? I head back inside and begin to brew some tea. Oh, I'm crying. My husband hasn't been home in four days, and I don't know where he is. I can't explain to the child though, no, he mustn't know that his father is a deadbeat. He mustn't know that his father is a traitor. He mustn't know that his father has all but abandoned us. He mustn't know that his father drinks, and runs off with human women, enamored by his parlor tricks, to forget. He mustn't know that his father hates his own kind, hates his own self, hates his own wife, hates his own son. He mustn't know that his father is a bastard that deserves nothing short of the stake. Oh, dash, I've accidentally torched the kitchen. I promptly put it out, of course, but cleaning it up in front my son should prove a bit awkward. Ah well, some candy and he'll forget in due time. Some day... some day I'll explain it to him. Sift through the fluff. My son is gone now, off studying English at a university. I'm in a hammock, reading, when I hear footsteps behind me. They do not sound unfriendly, so I turn slowly and with a smile on my face, assuming it to be a neighbor. Shock. Fear quickly bleeds into confusion as I look upon the well-groomed, nervously happy visage of my child's father, my... husband. "Why are you here?" "I know that I haven't been good to you. I know that. But... Lorna, I want to be a part of your life again. I want to see my son.' I'm torn. On one hand, I can see that he means it. In proper clothes, groomed, apologetic and empathetic... How can I say no? "No." Oh, that's how. "I'm sorry, but you had your chance. We haven't seen you in seventeen years; you chose to not be a part of his life and now you have to live with the consequences of that choice." "But-" "No." Sift thro- I'm jerked out of the memoryscape, sweaty and hyperventilating. With my mother's hand on my wrist, I slow down and, after a moment, stand straight. A pause. Eye contact. I head for the door. "Where are you going?" I pause again. Where am I going? No sense in merely storming off because I'm angry at my father for his negligence and my mother for her stubbornness. But, after a moment of thought, that's not all I'm doing. "I'm going to find my father's phone number. The healer gets back from his vacation today; the flight should be in by 4:50. He'll be here by the end of the day to take care of your lung problem." I exit my mother's home without contest. She knows it would be futile. — Two years ago Family/Relationships Father: Mr. Douglass Campbell - Distant, in regular contact Mother: Dr. Lorna Campbell - Local, in regular contact Grandparents: All deceased Paternal aunt: Ms. Moira Smith - Distant, in holiday contact Maternal aunt: Mrs. Saundra Wilson - Distant, in holiday contact Maternal aunt: Ms. Roberta Brown - Local, in holiday contact Maternal uncle: Mr. Robert Wilson - Distant, in holiday contact</s> <\|message\|>Ariel Guinevere Holmes Sapphira, enchanting name, Jack thought to himself. She didn't seem to react well to being complimented on her looks, so why compliment a name she also had little say in receiving? He'd figure out something better to compliment. Maybe. Some people were tough reads, but he was getting better at figuring them out. Reading people, figuring out their strengths and weaknesses, their preferences, was important when one needed to network. Especially if one needed to do so with individuals that might already be biased against him for the way his parents treated other races; he might use people, but he never did half the awful things they did. "Don't sound so excited for it, Sapphira," he said with a chuckle. Sure, she said yes, but it sounded more apathetic than an actual decision to continue to converse. Nonetheless, he started off toward the cafeteria. He at least knew where that was, even if he'd need to figure out where his classes would be. His hands stayed in his pockets, fingers idly playing with the change he kept in his pockets. It was the only reason he carried pocket change - just so he wouldn't absently touch anyone while talking to someone; Nola had suggested it back when she realized how often he did it, and considering now he wasn't around just her and Ariel for most of his day he wasn't about to start any unwanted conflicts for a simple misunderstanding. He couldn't, however, avoid trying to get to know her more while they walked the short distance to the cafeteria. "What lead you to want to be a Guardian? Being an elf, you've probably been alive for far longer than I have, so how long did it take for you to decide you wanted to do it?" He glanced over at his walking partner after he spoke, then held the door to the cafeteria open for her when they arrived at it.</s> <\|message\|>Penelope le Fay Cafeteria, town, it made no difference to her. Though it was times like these that she considered getting better, stronger, with her ability to travel through shadows. Sure, it was kind of cheating, but who wouldn't mind getting from point A to point B quicker? Especially if it was a walk into town from campus. Maybe that would be the area she worked on strengthening this year given she had little desire to figure out if she could get strong enough to summon undead or command vampires - the first might be useful, though creepy, and the latter...she knew enough about vampires to know she wouldn't want to find out how one would react to finding out they had been controlled. Penelope folded the flier up and shoved it into her back pocket while she walked with Tony. She preferred settling up plans right away than let them stagnate. It helped make sure it wasn't forgotten. Deciding what to eat was always so tough. Mostly because she never seemed to have an appetite. Considering all she had was a protein bar before a strenuous work out, she knew it was about time for an actual meal. So she got in line behind Tony and picked out a sandwich and a banana. Penelope had spotted the Wolfpack when they exited the line, but was going to ignore it until Tony kindly pointed them out. She did her best not to scowl, because there were a few that Tony was friendly with. But it was a tough thing to do - keep from matching glares with the upper rung members. The best she could do to not glare was keep a placid look on her face while making eye contact with the ones glaring. There was half a cafeteria between them and the Fitzroy Wolfpack, but that didn't really mean much when it came to the way shifters could move. She set her shoulders, leveling her gaze with Conrad - a member that lost out on being lieutenant to the current one, and the one member she butted with the most after her freshman year after he tried more than putting moves on her at a party - as she continued on toward a different table. "Probably best to not pick a fight with a sorry lot of sods so early in the day." Being on school grounds - they learned from experience - wouldn't matter much in the terms of explaining why two guardian applicants - auxiliary members to boot - got into a physical conflict with others from the student body. "Here's a good one," Penelope said as she rounded then sat at a table. It had the benefit of being well away from the wolfpack as well as being close enough to a wall to make sure she could see the whole cafeteria. One too many fights had her overly cautious and not wanting to give anyone a chance to get the drop on her from behind. At least, no one she had the chance of seeing. Maybe she'd eventually kick the habit, but it would doubtfully be while she was attending Gringore. She hid her glances around the room as best she could from others, but she knew Tony would notice. He always noticed. So she decided to make conversation with him between small bites of her sandwich. "So, excited for your final year? Looking forward to going to Rome for the test? That's coming up next summer, isn't it?" She knew it was coming up soon, before she was finished training here, and that she'd have to wait at least a year or two to take the test herself.</s> <\|message\|>Sapphira Elvron Lux "Don't sound so excited for it, Sapphira," he said with a chuckle. "Sorry," Sapphira replied to Jack. She was admittedly a bit amused by how easily he threw sarcasm back at her. Other than the occasional eye roll, she typically tried to refrain from being too "sassy" as her mother had called it. Some people are more easily offended, but Jack didn't seem to be one of those people. Nevertheless, she would try her best to be well-mannered towards him. She walked beside him as they headed towards the cafeteria. She had to slow down her long strides to match his more leisurely pace. She noted that they were similar in height, with him being only two inches taller than her 5'10" stature. "What lead you to want to be a Guardian? Being an elf, you've probably been alive for far longer than I have, so how long did it take for you to decide you wanted to do it?" he asked. "I was born into a long line of Guardians, so it is really all I know. Both my parents were Guardians, though my mother stopped going on missions when she was pregnant with me and thereafter. My mother homeschooled me and taught me the majority of what I know today. Given the way she raised me, I never really wanted to be anything but a Guardian," Sapphira explained. Truthfully she felt a pang of sadness in her heart at talking about her parents in the past tense, though she was skilled at not showing the emotion outwardly. She didn't think the sadness and anger from losing them would ever go away, no matter how long she lived. Instead of letting it destroy her, she worked hard to let it fuel her. She gave him a grateful smile when he courteously opened the door for her. She walked through the doorway and let her gaze take in her new surroundings. She recognized some of the people, namely the red headed woman with dark magic and the telekinetic Asian man. Her gaze then landed on the Fitzroy Wolfpack seated in the back corner. She had barely entered the cafeteria, and they were already brazenly checking her out! Her eyes narrowed slightly, the characteristic sign that she was getting annoyed or feeling threatened. She returned her gaze to Jack before she had a chance to do anything uncivil. It was best that she not start a fight unless utterly necessary. @Nightfury Kat</s>	<\|message\|>Alason Iver Campbell Alas on shook his head and grinned. Always on the move. With a bit of a huff, he rose from the table and followed his new acquaintance at a walking pace not bothering to run after her but maintaining sight. He was just beginning to worry that Anwen might fully disappear from his range of vision when she seemed to stop at the base of a particularly hardy tree. Rationalizing it to be her home; or just something she found the littlest bit interesting, given her characterization thus far; he began walking a touch more quickly before eventually reaching the base of the tree. Looking up the colossal trunk, he wondered how someone could live like this. The isolation, of course, would drive one mad, but also it just seems so… "Cramped." He looked down at the expectant Anwen, resting in the dirt and roots as though it were nothing. She seemed to be allocating him some time to investigate, so he went back to investigating the tree. Running his hand up the trunk, he imagined the decades it must have taken to bring this beautiful creature to its current shape. Broadening his gaze to he surrounding vines and roots, he saw the little ecosystem at work: a miniature garden of Eden all working around a nymph with no idea how impressive—how beautiful—her world was. "Thanks for bringing me out here." But, Alason began to wonder, that begs another question. "Why did you bring me out here?"</s>
<\|description\|>Alason Iver Campbell Alason Appearance Seeming by most accounts unremarkable, Alason is but another face in the crowd to most, the only distinguishing features being the beginnings of a fine beard and a rather geometrically defined nose. Beyond this, however, Alason is nothing beyond a brown-haired, brown-eyed white guy scuttling about in a suit with some rather plain, black glasses. Speaking of the suit - for those of you who actually care - on a nearly daily basis Alason wears a suit grading from grey-blue to black, always worn with a sense of business and professionalism. The beard? Perhaps four steps away from pathetic. It hardly covers the face and only barely escapes judgement as mere stubble. Still, none of this is to say that he is particularly unattractive, rather, as aforementioned and as surely will be mentioned countless times more, Alason is neither attractive nor unattractive, neither this nor that, not anything; he merely is, and is quite content in anonymity. Age 31 Gender Male Date of Birth 20 August 1984 Occupation Civil Litigation Lawyer Race Quaestrum Witch Hair & Eye Color Brown Height and Build About 5'10", and ideally proportioned for a human. That is not to say that he has an optimized, hyper-athletic build, but rather that he is neither overweight nor underweight and is by all accounts an average, unremarkable, healthy male. A Brief History The first thing one must notice is the air of calm about her, an air which hardly dissipates when she beckons me over and dismisses the attendants. "I want you to see everything. I want you to understand properly the things that you never could." Cryptic, but after a moment I understand. I take her hand, splay it with her palm to the ceiling, and begin to run my fingers down the fine wrinkles of her hand. I close my eyes. The serene black is stolen from the inside of my eyelids and is immediately replaced with a blinding white. Pain, a pain that I've not felt before; it is as though my innards are retching about, churning and switching positions in some horrific game of musical chairs. A hospital. Doctors. More pain. A child. As the pain begins to give way to the sweet relaxation of endorphins, I hardly notice the passage of time before the newborn is presented to me. I know the face, and yet it is new to me. I love it. It almost takes away the bitter tinge of knowing that my husband is not here, but off doing God knows what in some filthy alley. Almost. Sift through the fluff. A toddler. Cute, but without identity. With the superfluous baby fat gone and the cheekbones beginning to set in properly, one can begin to see the resemblance between him and me. He plays in the yard, but again: where is the father? I head back inside and begin to brew some tea. Oh, I'm crying. My husband hasn't been home in four days, and I don't know where he is. I can't explain to the child though, no, he mustn't know that his father is a deadbeat. He mustn't know that his father is a traitor. He mustn't know that his father has all but abandoned us. He mustn't know that his father drinks, and runs off with human women, enamored by his parlor tricks, to forget. He mustn't know that his father hates his own kind, hates his own self, hates his own wife, hates his own son. He mustn't know that his father is a bastard that deserves nothing short of the stake. Oh, dash, I've accidentally torched the kitchen. I promptly put it out, of course, but cleaning it up in front my son should prove a bit awkward. Ah well, some candy and he'll forget in due time. Some day... some day I'll explain it to him. Sift through the fluff. My son is gone now, off studying English at a university. I'm in a hammock, reading, when I hear footsteps behind me. They do not sound unfriendly, so I turn slowly and with a smile on my face, assuming it to be a neighbor. Shock. Fear quickly bleeds into confusion as I look upon the well-groomed, nervously happy visage of my child's father, my... husband. "Why are you here?" "I know that I haven't been good to you. I know that. But... Lorna, I want to be a part of your life again. I want to see my son.' I'm torn. On one hand, I can see that he means it. In proper clothes, groomed, apologetic and empathetic... How can I say no? "No." Oh, that's how. "I'm sorry, but you had your chance. We haven't seen you in seventeen years; you chose to not be a part of his life and now you have to live with the consequences of that choice." "But-" "No." Sift thro- I'm jerked out of the memoryscape, sweaty and hyperventilating. With my mother's hand on my wrist, I slow down and, after a moment, stand straight. A pause. Eye contact. I head for the door. "Where are you going?" I pause again. Where am I going? No sense in merely storming off because I'm angry at my father for his negligence and my mother for her stubbornness. But, after a moment of thought, that's not all I'm doing. "I'm going to find my father's phone number. The healer gets back from his vacation today; the flight should be in by 4:50. He'll be here by the end of the day to take care of your lung problem." I exit my mother's home without contest. She knows it would be futile. — Two years ago Family/Relationships Father: Mr. Douglass Campbell - Distant, in regular contact Mother: Dr. Lorna Campbell - Local, in regular contact Grandparents: All deceased Paternal aunt: Ms. Moira Smith - Distant, in holiday contact Maternal aunt: Mrs. Saundra Wilson - Distant, in holiday contact Maternal aunt: Ms. Roberta Brown - Local, in holiday contact Maternal uncle: Mr. Robert Wilson - Distant, in holiday contact</s> <\|message\|>Penelope le Fay He could have been at least a little more subtle about it, Penelope found herself thinking at the insinuated trouble the night might bring. It wasn't like she was planning for trouble, but she wasn't exactly shy about getting into it. She knew it, Tony knew it, worst was that the Pack knew it too. Her uncle Daithi had been pretty direct in his request she stop getting into fights on a moral ground, and she was trying but it was a hard instinct to combat. Something about stubbornness and hotheadedness being inherited traits; it was a statement she heard often in teasing considering her father's nature. A sigh escaped her, and Penelope couldn't help but nod. "All right. I promise. I'll do better to ignore trespasses that aren't against me," she said. It would be hard to turn a blind eye to a lot of what went on at Fitzroy parties, but she'd make a conscious effort to at least. "Though we might luck out and it might be my uncle to come break up whatever. He swept the fight from my freshman year under the rug after all. And you could always approach Connall about one if you can't get one from the Chief or Professor Bianchi. He's in good standing, and he's still teaching Guardian Protocol. I understand going elsewhere, but he'd write you a letter if you asked." Yes, it would be better to get a letter from someone that is strictly involved on a professional basis, but Connall wasn't Tony's family. Friendships shouldn't influence that sort of thing, right? "You need to drive. Daithi took my license for a month - it's not suspended, he just physically has it - for getting into another fight with Conrad over the summer. In my defense, he started it...But that's neither here nor there. Point is, I can't get caught driving without it."</s> <\|message\|>Ariel Guinevere Holmes Ariel had waited for everyone - or at least, for the crowd - to leave the auditorium after the lecture. She had a lot of useful information, as far as she was concerned anyways. It would have been better to sit with Jack and leave with him, but he seemed to be taking Nola's instructions to branch out to heart. She, on the other hand, was quite content playing it safe and sticking to herself. She had the map of the school grounds sketched out based on what the projection had shown, but she wasn't about to trust her ability to get to class on time following that map alone. Like most others she had seen at the assembly, she held onto her class schedule and searched around for the appropriate rooms. Most of her classes were related to learning more about other races; there was a vastly different outlook from what Nola taught her in the past couple years and what her parents had. She wanted to know more about each - as far as classes could teach her anyways - if it meant she might be able to better aide using her magical capabilities. Mixed in were more spell oriented classes as well. Nola cautioned against such a full schedule, which was the only reason she wasn't also taking any Ancient Languages courses this year; Ariel liked keeping busy, but that was too much as far as Nola was concerned. With classes mostly found - one or two were at least in the same building as others and her schedule allowed for time to get lost in between courses - Ariel wasn't quite sure what else to do with herself. So she opted to end her travels in the library. Staying was busy was more habit than necessity like it seemed to be for her twin. Which was why she was searching for a book - she would know what she was looking for once she found it - to fill her quite necessary hours after finishing the few books she had brought with her.</s> <\|message\|>Sapphira Elvron Lux "Sounds like a lot of training. You must be pretty good at what goes into being a Guardian by now. Why not go off to take the test already?" he asked as Sapphira returned her gaze to him. Why hadn't she? Well, she wasn't fully grown until she was 100, but after that… She was pulled from her mental contemplation by his next statement. "Here, let's go grab some food. My treat." Then he quickly clarified himself. "As a friend thing. If you don't mind, that is." His sudden change of subject caught her a bit off guard, and it took her a moment to respond. "Sure." Her mind then drifted back to his previous question. What stopped her from taking the test years ago? After she was fully grown, she planned to take the test but…Hunters, they sent her life into disarray. First, by killing her father then her mother. The realization hit her like a knife to the heart. She felt her emotions change in that instance, but it wasn't sadness that was threatening to come to the surface. It was anger. Her eyes narrowed instinctively. Her jaw clenched, and her eyes seemed to darken the more the anger inside her surfaced. If one wished to completely infuriate her, hurt the people she cares about, then you will rue the day you ever met her. But she realized that now was not the time for vengeance or for justice. She was simply reacting to the darkness and pain of her past. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, reining in the anger as she had often practiced. "Hunters—" she began, with an edge to her voice that she couldn't quite hide. The very word felt like poison on her lips. "They are the reason I kept putting off taking the test. They murdered both my parents. I was left to pick up the pieces of my life and the lives of the little Supernatural community I called home." @Nightfury Kat</s>	<\|message\|>Alason Iver Campbell In retrospect, he hadn't given much thought as to how Anwen reached the living quarters of her tree. He had considered that perhaps there was an entrance at ground level, invisible to him, or that maybe she would climb the vines with the strength of an olympian gymnast. In any event, while he had assumed that there was some exceptionally strange mechanism for getting into the actual 'home' section of the nymph's little private condominium, he couldn't manage the tact necessary to keep his mouth from opening just a centimeter or so when the bark actually peeled off of the tree itself, revealing a cantilever stairwell. She seemed so chipper, inviting him in, seemingly oblivious--what else is new?--to the sheer oddness of it all. Now, while surely in his lifetime Alason had seen his fair share of 'odd' events, he mostly kept to himself and his coven, a bunch similarly preoccupied with maintaining privacy, subtlety, and a courtly air of respect for those to be respected, and hauteur towards all others. In any event, after this brief pause for thought on the situation at hand, Alason cautiously prodded the base stair with his foot. Applying some weight to it, finding it sturdy, looking to Anwen, back to the stair, a bit more weight, all of it now, and he began to ascend, taking each step a bit more quickly and readily than the last. Upon finding himself at the top, he looked to Anwen, and then back to the tree, neither wishing to breach standard social regulations by inviting himself in, nor wishing to unwittingly enter into what, for all he knew, could be the lair of some plant-deer-bear-man abomination crafted up by Anwen in a passing moment of morning boredom which she had forgotten about in all of her... Anwen-ness. "After you."</s>
<\|description\|>Julian Marino Nicknames/Alias/AKA: (He calls himself Julian, but he's known as "the big guy" around Whitecross.) Age: 20 Gender: Male DOB: May 13, 1996 Occupation: Student / Part-time stocker and cashier at Oryana Grocery Race: Shifter Hair Color: Dark brown Eye Color: Gold Height and Build: 5'11", muscular yet lean. Other Appearance: Julian uses hair gel to keep his hair spiked out of his face. He likes to wear well-fitting thin hoodies and T-shirts that show his athletic build, along with skinny jeans and worn black Converse. History/bio: It is mythologized that King Lycaon of Arkadia infuriated Zeus, the god of the sky, by wanting to serve him a slaughtered child, his son Nyctimus being one of the options. Zeus' angry response was to bring lightning bolts upon fifty of Lycaon's sons and turn Lycaon and Nyctimus into wolves. The descendants of Nyctimus became Shifters, able to shift in and out of their wolf forms at will, while the descendants of Lycaon found themselves as Lycanthropes, cursed with uncontrollable transformations under the full moon. Shifters hated the Lycanthropes and still do, having the goal of demolishing the race. Nyctimus' daughter, Phylonome, gave birth to twin sons, one of whom founded and populated Rome. Among his descendents were shipbuilders, who joined the trade business and sailed in the modern-day Mediterranean Sea. These people gained the family name Marinus ("of the sea"). In the 1500s, the Italian Wars resulted in the Italian city states spending a period of time under Spanish rule. A few families named Marinus immigrated to Spain and changed their names to Marino. When news came of a new land discovered, a few Marinos set out on ships the Americas. One family began their new life in what is now known as Florida. It was known from the moment Julian was conceived what he might be. Julian was born in a private hospital in Ocala, Florida, on May 13, 1996 to specialized doctors. DNA tests confirmed that Julian was indeed a shifter, although his bright golden eyes, differentiating him from non-affected brown-eyed family members, was enough indication. Appropriate personal and medical arrangements were made. Julian was an only child and lived with his parents in Ocala. His father, Edward Marino, was the senior manager of a company that sold furniture and household appliances. He received discounts as well as a good salary, and filled the entire apartment with furniture and appliances from that specific brand. Being loyal to his work, yet quite the proud person that he was, one of Edward's favourite things was when guests noticed the uniformity of everything in the house. He would often position the items so that the brand name was visible, and try to drop subtle comments into conversations about how much he liked using such-and-such an appliance from this brand. If guests were so interested as to ask about it, the resulting conversation would often revolve around how Edward worked for such a great company. He wore brown contact lenses to change the colour of his eyes, even though they were hardly an unnatural shade of golden brown. His mother, Roisin Wilson-Marino, was a second-generation Irish-American. She used to teach general science in a middle school, known among the students for giving out relatively simple assignments for easy marks while still being somewhat of an effective teacher. When Julian came, she decided to work from home and provide science lessons online, available to the middle schools of Ocala. This gave her time to give Julian her undivided attention. Julian seemed like a regular temperamental child in his youth. He attended Maplewood Elementary School and developed a knack for appearing to befriend loners. He loved to talk and was seen as a natural leader. He was overly-sensitive to criticism, throwing tantrums in class and expecting people to comfort him. He was also a jealous child, getting angry if he perceived someone as better than him at something and arguing if he lost a game. Although he was small and skinny no matter how much he ate, he had above-average strength and speed. He excelled at all sports and never seemed to get hurt. He also had a suspiciously good sense of hearing and smell, sometimes making him feel overwhelmed. It was decided that music lessons would help him control his attention to at least sounds, and he took up guitar lessons. It took four tries to find a guitar teacher patient enough not to drop him. Perhaps picking up from his father, he was proud of his heightened abilities and senses and liked to show them off. His first shift conveniently happened in the summer between elementary school and middle school, in the middle of an intense dream. When Julian woke up the next morning, he felt different in the bed. He screamed loudly when he saw what he had become. His mother ran into his room with a worried face that was immediately replaced with relief, confusing Julian. That day, his mother told him the legend of the Shifters and the Lycanthropes and his family history. Since Julian had no clue about any of this, it took him a few years to fully understand everything, but this only served to confirm his belief that he was special. He was sworn to secrecy, only deciding to keep this oath after Roisin explained the family's potentially doomed fate if the secret was let out. He didn't want to bring any negative reputation and harm to himself. His father revealed his own wolf form and took to training Julian how to control it, taking him to the Ocala National Forest to practice hunting and wolf behaviour. Out of fear for revealing the family secret, Julian's parents hired several tutors to home-school Julian through middle school and high school. Most of the tutors grew to dislike Julian for his arrogance, but kept coming for the pay. His friends from elementary school, the young loners, had had enough of Julian's controlling ways and happily cut off connections from him when they stopped going to the same school. Julian denied his isolation and simply dismissed these old classmates as unworthy of his friendship. He selected new, worthy "friends" in online chats and video games, meeting up with the ones in his area to attend events and party. He had a girlfriend for his last two years in high school, a tall blonde named Lily Flynn. She lived with an abusive family and was used to neglect enough to be with him, using her time out with him more as an escape from her home than anything else. A plan long in the works, Julian's parents sent Julian off to Whitecross to attend Gringore Academy after high school. They explained to him that he would not only received a college education, but would learn about his powers as well. Infatuated by the opportunity to finally show his powers to the world, Julian promptly broke up with Lily. He moved alone to Whitecross two months after he turned 18 and took residence in the dormitories of Gringore Academy. He hardly needed any time to adjust to this new isolation. Being outgoing and an extrovert, Julian had no trouble busying himself with studying, parties, events, and a part-time job at Oryana Grocery, socializing whenever and however he pleased. He has developed a crush on a same-aged floor-mate, a witch named Susanna Lim, who he has tried unsuccessfully to seduce by talking about how special he is. Family/Relationships: Edward Marino - Father. Shifter. 52. Roisin Wilson-Marino - Mother. Human. 49. Lily Flynn - Ex-girlfriend. Student at Hillsborough Community College. 20. Susanna Lim - Crush. Witch. Student at Gringore Academy. Floor-mate. 20. Sam & Alex - Students at Gringore Academy. New floor-mates. 18. Other/Extra: Julian is aware that Lycanthropes are the enemy, but hasn't had much to do with them yet. Julian enjoys talking to people (about himself), working out at the gym (especially in front of the mirrored wall), playing all sports, and being in situations where he can take the lead. Julian also tends to give people nicknames no matter how well he knows them, especially if they're also called Julian.</s> <\|message\|>Alason Iver Campbell Alas on shook his head and grinned. Always on the move. With a bit of a huff, he rose from the table and followed his new acquaintance at a walking pace not bothering to run after her but maintaining sight. He was just beginning to worry that Anwen might fully disappear from his range of vision when she seemed to stop at the base of a particularly hardy tree. Rationalizing it to be her home; or just something she found the littlest bit interesting, given her characterization thus far; he began walking a touch more quickly before eventually reaching the base of the tree. Looking up the colossal trunk, he wondered how someone could live like this. The isolation, of course, would drive one mad, but also it just seems so… "Cramped." He looked down at the expectant Anwen, resting in the dirt and roots as though it were nothing. She seemed to be allocating him some time to investigate, so he went back to investigating the tree. Running his hand up the trunk, he imagined the decades it must have taken to bring this beautiful creature to its current shape. Broadening his gaze to he surrounding vines and roots, he saw the little ecosystem at work: a miniature garden of Eden all working around a nymph with no idea how impressive—how beautiful—her world was. "Thanks for bringing me out here." But, Alason began to wonder, that begs another question. "Why did you bring me out here?"</s> <\|message\|>Sapphira Elvron Lux Loki was woken up to a high pitch "kewee-kewee-kewee" coming from outside his apartment. He let out an annoyed groan and rolled out from under his sheets. He stopped to let his eyes adjust to the darkness as soon as his feet hit the floor beside his bed. It was definitely too early for any sane person to be up. His eyes quickly adjusted into his night vision, and he sleepily walked from his bedroom to the adjacent living room + kitchen. He threw open the screen door leading to the small balcony. His African crowned eagle Syxtar Shade was perched on the balcony railing and abruptly stopped its annoying "wake up call." "What?" Loki snapped as the cool early morning air bit at his bare chest. Shade cocked its head to the side and gazed at him with its piercing yellow eyes. "You want to go hunting. That's why you woke me up so early, right?" he questioned. Shade let out a sharp cry that grated on his ears. "Okay, okay. Hush up before someone hears you." He turned around and went back inside, leaving the screen door open. He took a quick shower; the bathroom like the rest of the apartment was small and unassuming. It wasn't completely desirable, but it beat living in the dorms at Gringore Academy. He tried that his first year. Tried being the operative word. He was close to murdering his obnoxious freshman roommates. After his shower, he looked through his closet for something suitable to wear in the woods. His closet was filled to the capacity with dark colored clothes, a large portion of which were suits. He pulled out a pair of dark blue jeans, a burgundy long sleeve shirt, black combat boots, a navy hunting vest, and a watch to complete the outfit. He grabbed one of the black suits and dress shoes to put in his car so he could possibly change into it later. When he was done getting ready, he peeked his head back outside. "You know the drill, Shade. Meet you at Gringore," he exclaimed before shutting the screen door. He then grabbed his car keys and headed out. While he drove, Shade flew high above, staying hidden the best it could. Loki and Shade ended up spending hours hunting and exploring in the forest and fields around Gringore. Shade was a born hunter and could dexterously maneuver its 5' wingspan. It caught multiple rodents with ease and ate several of its catches. By the time they started heading back to the academy, Loki was in a better mood, and Shade had a decent breakfast.</s> <\|message\|>Kideyoshi, Tony Tony sat across from his friend, he knew she didn't like turning her back towards others. He on the other hand had no problems with such. Not that he was extremely trusting of the student body at Gringore, he trusted his sense of intuition in public. And at the very least, he had Penny to keep an eye on his back while they ate. She always looked around- she used to try and hide it from him, but realized that it was a futile gesture a long time ago. Tony didn't have extensive abilities like Penelope or some of the other potential Guardians, while he had extensive control over his own telekinesis, he didn't have incredible strength, immunity to poison, near-immortality; rather, he had a level of intuition and sense of people that gave him an edge on the other applicants. "So, excited for your final year? Looking forward to going to Rome for the test? That's coming up next summer, isn't it?" Tony nodded, "Yeah, its a little unnerving. I still need to get a recommendation letter too. I'm not allowed to ask my dad for one, so I'm stuck asking Chief Évora or Professor Bianchi." Tony replied, inbetween bites of his sandwhich. "I'll probably ask the chief tomorrow- so let's try to get through tonight smoothly, yeah?" Getting in trouble right before asking a staff member for a recommendation- regardless of whether or not the staff liked him or not, was in some bad taste. "Anyway, the Fitzroy party, you wanna drive, or me?"</s>	<\|message\|>Julian Marino Julian flexed his arms in response, trying to make them as big as Séamus' arms. He worked hard to gain muscle on his naturally lean body, and took pride that Séamus had noticed. "Let's do some weight training. We can spot each other." As they operated the machinery and lifted weights, Julian saw that Séamus could lift a lot more than him, but comforted himself by reminding himself that Séamus was naturally much bigger and taller. He couldn't stop his jealousy. "Did you do anything special to get so big? Any special exercises or routines or anything?" He listened greedily for a response, imagining his head on top of a bodybuilder's physique. As he followed Séamus' workout, he tried and failed to hide his exhaustion behind excuses and snarky comments.</s>
<\|description\|>Parael "Magnus" Speaking my true name might melt your brain and the brain of anyone around, so I try to avoid it. Humans and supernaturals call me Parry. Age SLAP Rude! But I can say it's decidedly more than 6,000 years. Gender Oh, how cute! You think that's a thing! I guess you could call me a 'he' if it really bothers you that much. Breed/Species/Type/Lineage I abhor the term 'Angel.' It applies too many labels and carries too many connotations. We prefer to think of ourselves as Celestials. But then again, Angel does adequately describe my primary features- wings, fire sword, stunningly beautiful looks and tastes. As far as the other supernaturals go, I let them assume I'm a Magi of limited power and even less intelligence, or whatever they prefer to think. Coming right out and saying "I'm an Angel" tends to lead to uncomfortable questions like "Why did you let my brother die," and "Can God make a sandwich so big he couldn't eat it?" (The answers to those questions being, "It's complicated" and "Yes, and then they'd finish it, too!") Plus Celestial blood tends to do crazy shit like make magi powers go nuclear or turn Vampires human, and I have no intention of being anything other than a voluntary donor of my own bodily fluids. Talents I'm going to be very, very honest for once- I kinda forgot a lot of what makes my kind tick. I misplaced a lot of my ability to warp reality and smite the wicked back in Babylon when I worked in a temple of Ishtar as a part-timer. Man, between smoking premium herb and all the sacred prostitution... it makes you wish for that old time religion. But I kept most of the important bits! Mainly, my ability to create Runic Wards that I can tie to physical structures and a few items. How do they work? See, this line in the dirt? And this can of mortal mace? Imagine you want to kill everyone across that line. Now cross it and spray yourself in the eyeballs. Here, I'll do it for you. See? Yes I'm going to use the whole can! You didn't step back across the line! Other times I can use them to neutralize magic energy. It doesn't turn you human, just kind of turns the mojo down from an 11 to an 8. It's definitely useful for keeping the kids from nuking their neighbors. I'm Solar-Powered, so I don't need to eat to keep going. Yay, waistline! Finally, there's the Wings. They're ethereal for the most part- I had to clip them when I took my initial vacation. Had to navigate through the markets of Babylon without knocking over every stall. Can I call them up? Yeah. Can I use them to fly? Sure. Will I? I mean... they're kind of a dead giveaway as to what I am. So Hells no. History: So the official story that I tell everyone, human and otherwise, is that I came into town a few years ago and set up shop, moving away from sunny California. That's usually enough for both sides. Done and done. Where I really come from? I guess you could say the upper Heavens. Paradise. Nirvana. The Clockmaker's Workshop. However you want to call it, the center of the Celestial Bureaucracy. It got tiring. I can't remember if I was filing reports or fighting demons, but I just knew I needed a break. I was talking to Murael while on assignment about how I needed some time off. Mur recommended I go take a hike through the Pyrenees or visit Babylon for a week or two. Live a little. See some of the things we were fighting for up close. I took Mur up on it. I mean, Sargon was an interesting ruler and it was the region to be at the time, so I clipped my wings, stashed my sword, and down I went. But, you know, I get distracted by things. Namely, silk with pink and purple dye. It was my original weakness. I stayed in the markets, found work with Ishtar's temple as an acolyte, did some excellent smoking, became the number one temple prostitute of the cult, and a few years later I kind of decided I wanted to see the next city. And the next. And the next. I got to New Camden a few years ago, set up shop like I usually do. Little Angels Day Care (real original, I know) on the city's north side. I got a permit for the building through de Lacy, then set up shop and did my thing. Diapers and playtime on weekdays, then a binge on new and interesting ways to enjoy drugs and sex on the weekends. Somewhere along the way, de Lacy caught wind of what I actually am and I started giving him a bit of blood every month as a tithe. He didn't share the source with anyone, but it gave the impression he either had a lot more power or a lot more money than he really did. I'm not too worried, though. He'll eventually burn out on the stuff. One day he's fine and dandy king of the court, the next there's a pants-wettingly huge crisis, he reaches for three bottles of liquid raw Celestial power, and it's "Look at me, ye poor mortals, and despair!" He'll cast a fireball, and he turn into a pillar of flame and ash. Along with half a city block. Then I'll pack up and head out. I saw it before the last time I was in Chicago. I think that was... '71? '72? No, I mean 1871. Anyway, I know my punch-card shows I'm seriously tardy with the crew upstairs but nobody has come to collect me yet, so I think I'll hit Chicago next. Or Detroit. Whichever one is safer. As a Celestial I know what happens after death, so that's no biggie. It's knowing I'll have to answer for that missed time on my punch card that scares the crap out of me. Do you know how long I'll have to work to get 4,000 years worth of Vacation days? Psychological Profile: My last girlfriend said I get distracted by material things too easily. Or maybe that was Charlie- he never complained about what I was buying, just that I was buying stuff. I can't help myself though! Upstairs, we got the flaming swords, white toga-things, and the occasional instrument. You mortals are so... creative! I just want to try everything out! I also have a soft spot for kids, especially supernatural ones. It sucks being told everything you have to do at every hour of the day, then add the fact that you may or may not be empowered by forces beyond your control? Yeah, you're in for a roller coaster ride, honey! Possessions: Gucci bag, Tom Ford suit, about a dozen different Hilfiger jeans, a Motorola Dynatac 800x Cell Phone- oh. Oh, you mean... I have the Flaming Sword stashed somewhere. It tends to slice various demons and chaos entities, and can start small forest fires if I leave it unsheathed at a camp site. What? Don't look at me like that! We didn't have a lighter, and it's hard to have a... ahem... friendly gathering in the woods with a few other friends when there's no warmth or light. I don't even use it that often! Like, ever. Mages get glittery eyed when they look at it and witches tend to get too friendly with me just to get a hand on the thing. Aside from that? I have a Gucci Diaper Bag of Holding! It opens to a storage unit in Wyoming where I keep most of the things I need for my day job. Yes, and: Rusty is a good guy! Totally fun, hooked me up with a weekend's worth of drugs to party through my yearly "What are the mortals snorting this decade" party. And he let me borrow his bike one day to pick up a baby Fae changeling that was stuck in a car wreck on the interstate outside town. Mom and Dad were alright but it was a dicey thing for a few days. Only took a bottle of Jack Daniels and one favor as yet to be collected to get the bike. But I'm a glorified baby sitter for supernaturals. I change diapers and let the grown ups make money to pay their tithes. Far as he knows, I'm just a useful Magi. What could a biker werewolf possibly want from me? Besides, after I returned the bike- the look on his face when he revved the engine and the exhaust spat a glitter cloud? Totally. Worth. It. Location of Note: Spring Eternal (Former Discotheque, now a... whatever-the-kids-listen to-club) Notable Person: Louie "Lireth" Burgher A fact everyone knows about this place: The place is a front for a Faerie court. It paid tribute to de Lacy like everyone else, but if you want anything from coke, to coke, to Pixie Dust, Louie can hook you up! I first tried Primo Bam Bam here and holy crap did I wreck that disco ball! Location of Note: Little Angels Day Care Notable Person: Yours truly, Parry Magnus! A fact everyone knows about this place: I run the place on the cheap for the supernaturals less able to make money off their abilities. It helps having a safe, cheap location to drop your kids off while you make money stocking shelves because you weren't blessed with the power to turn dust into gold.</s> <\|message\|>Parael "Magnus" Peace and dancing would have to wait, it seemed. By the time Parry got back to the playroom and the dancing lights of the Disco ball, the knocks had stopped and the booming kicks of a biker werewolf who really, really wanted to talk began. Fine, he'd make time for the biker. Parry crossed beneath the Heart Crystal hanging in the hallway, expelled a small cloud of smoke, and looked at the guests in his living room- he wasn't sure if they were all real or imagined quite yet. By the time the buzz cleared his system, he'd have much clearer vision. "Ladies and gentlemen, party's over. I have an urgent visitor. Please make your way out of my mind and into the kitchen." Spinning on his heel, Parry met Rusty halfway through the hall and gave his best smile. "Well hello, big bad wolf! I think I'm done huffing and puffing for the night, but I will be happy to buy from you later today. If you could give de Lacy a message for me on your way back, though- he asked for an amulet against undead. I neglected to let him know the one I gave him was for use against Peruvian mummies. I don't think it matters, but I figure the thing was for peace of mind. de Lacy is more paranoid than smart. "But anyway, what can I do for you?"</s> <\|message\|>Antonio Victor Barnes "Yeah, well it definitely doesn't work on whatever this guy is. Nemsemet just wiped out Caradoc de Lacy and most of his posse single-handed, along with some of the hanger-ons. I barely got my ass out of there intact. I -was- riding out of town, but something fucking stopped me in the middle of the road. I need a sorcerer to look at it and figure out just what the hell that is. Then I want to unwrap that fucking mummy! He killed some of my pack!" Rusty, blowing town? It usually didn't work like that, Rusty was a lot of things, but he didn't generally run away from a fight. The man tended to go where he would and courted trouble. "You got a phone?" He couldn't get out, but maybe he could bring the boys in. Some of the chapters were at Lake Talbot, in the Appalachians for the yearly club retreat. They sat around a lake, got high, fucked with bikes and sold drugs to hikers and college students. It wasn't as good as it was in the late 60's and early-to-mid 70's, but it was a club tradition. He only came down to New Camden because de Lacy called him in with a few guys, not wanting an entire club to come in and wreak havoc on his town. Rusty obliged, because he smelled a good deal and desperation. Now he was the desperate one. Breathing heavily, holding himself in check, chest heaving.</s>	<\|message\|>Parael "Magnus" "Well, it wasn't meant to be something that would kill a Peruvian Mummy anyway, just negate some bad-" Nemsemet. Ancient Egypt. Powerful Sorcerer. Or Demigod. Or god. Depending on which hieroglyph you read at the time. Helped Mentuhotep II overthrow the First Dynasty of the Pharoahs and leave nothing but gloating statues all over the place for a good century. Egypt was nothing better than one giant squall of radioactive Magic for paranormals until his death and mummification. Parry was perfectly happy to wander up to Crete and ride out the storm. Came back for the funeral though. Not a lot of people were sad to see him bite it, and nobody could agree how it happened. Cause, you know, nobody wanted to accidentally incur the wrath of the dead all-powerful-could-be-magician-could-be-a-god thing. "Ah. A, uh, Mummy. A true blue Egyptian mummy. Up and about." Parry blinked, mentally taking stock of how long it would take to load up his Persian silks and Japanese Yukata into his bag, then stuff the whole safe into the bag and hail a cab. "Walking. How about that. And you... can't... leave... Phone's in the kitchen. Feel free to make a call, for, you know, as long as you want." Parry froze, looking at the open door and the twilit sky framed by bright street lights on the street. That would need to be taken care of, STAT. "If anyone in the kitchen is not, I repeat, NOT a drug induced hallucination, I would very much appreciate it if you did something about my front door! Locked and bolted please. And put the bookcase in front of it as well." Parry left Rusty in the hallway, marching through the living room and pausing just long enough to unplug the stereo. The disco ball he left spinning. May the disco gods never die. Without skipping a beat, he headed straight into the kitchen, produced a key from beneath his silk blouse shirt, and unlocked the basement door. "I'll be downstairs, need to, uh, grab a few things. You know. For necessity's sake. Also, do me a favor and call the number on page 243 of the cookbook by the fridge. If it connects to someone named Murael, say you're from a Chinese takeout place and say wrong number, then hang up and DO NOT answer it if the phone rings. If it doesn't go through... we're genuinely fucked." This last was punctuated by the door creaking shut (though not with the tell-tale click of a lock), a brief quiet of feet descending stairs, and finally a shrieking "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"</s>
<\|description\|>Mint Age: 18 Personality: She'd seem like the 'nice girl' type, with her ability and her use of it supporting that statement, but she can be in fact surprisingly childish. She is not evil however, just a bit childish. She even looks a bit young for her age, but she does get offended by others calling her out about it. She developed a mix of fear and hatred for elves, unless they prove to be friendly and not haughty, which she doesn't believe will happen anytime soon. Looks up to Minotaurs, helps them every once in a while, although this is pretty much on a whim. Abilities: She is capable of flying, that's her regular ability for a fairy, but she has two little special abilities. The first of those is Photosynthesis - through what seems to be her wings, she is able to absorb some power from the sun, and convert it to power and some neutrients for herself. The extent of this is about the same as human meals - she has to focus on it actively for about 10 minutes to get a feeling of 'fullness' (it can vary depending on the amount of light) . She passively does it too, but it's not nearly enough to actually be anything significant, it just means a bit longer 'recharge times'. The second special ability is to transfer energy from herself to other living beings, including plants. When she does this, it looks like twinkles of light coming out of her towards her target. Bio: Having run away from some elves she come to anger more than once, she is a bit against staying in one place for long periods of time. (for now I guess.)</s> <\|message\|>Eris Belladonna As Eris was lying on she decided that it would be a good idea to try and find out if the ones on the boat were friendly or is they were like the elves, 'maybe it's just the elves or the minotaurs coming back' she thought to herself hoping she was right. After she came to this choice she got up from the seabed and started swimming towards the shore when she came out of her cave. When she got to the shore she got out of the water behind a rock out of sight of the boat where her tail quickly turned into legs and rushed to where clothes were laid out and slipped them on, then rung out her hair, it immediately becoming straighter than before and ran back behind the rock waiting for the ones on the bot to arrive.</s> <\|message\|>Clarisse As each passing moment went Clarisse grew more worrisome of the others and no longer wanting to sit there she decided to go warn other tribes, even if the elves didn't particularly like others. "Hm," she looked at the steep hillside that surrounded her cove, she didn't want to get wet again for a little bit and tried to figure a way out. She started climbing a nearby palm tree, "maybe here and then... here," she muttered to herself her pattern jumping from one tree on the ground to another imbedded in the hillside. She was out of breath and panting once she managed to reach the top and felt pretty triumphant of herself. Though that was short lived when a bit of earth slipped from under her and she started tumbling down the other side of the hill, "Ow, ow, ow!" she exclaimed every time she hit the ground. When reaching the bottom she landed in a pile of leaves which was good I guess, picking herself up and sighed, "well that was fun," she brushed herself off and picked some twigs from her hair. When she finished she started walking, staying hidden within the trees as she moved to the shore and her round, green emerald eyes, spotted the boat not far off shore and seeing a smaller boat get lowered they were preparing to come ashore their island.</s> <\|message\|>Faeya Delisia Faeya slowly walked along the sand and saw a boat. Her eyes widened and she decided to go see what it was. She let her wings come out and she started to fly over to the ship, keeping as concealed as possible. She noticed the smaller boat and she felt extremely aware of the situation. She looked around for the merfolk that were once swimming in the beautiful waters, but she couldn't see any.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Page Seth was to relaxed to notice Daichi, Ahab and Dawn leave the boat. He'll just have to swim to shore later. But for now he double checked the boats anchor and sat on the border of the boat watching the row boat that held his crew mates move closer towards the island. Seth ran back inside the ship and came back out holding a fishing pole. "Might as well do something before I'm stuck wondering the mysterious island." He said throwing the line into the ocean. He sat back on the border and wistled a light and peaceful toon. Hopefully a mermaid or any other type of watery majestic like creature doesn't bite onto Seth's bait. He was just looking forward to catching a regular fish.</s> <\|message\|>Mint Mint was doing her usual round around the island's forests... at least the round itself was usual, but her route was never really decided, as she went wherever she wanted that moment. Along her route that time, she happened to see from a distance someone who seemed to be another fairy, on the edge of the forest. Despite the fact that it'd be quite meaningless to just hide and follow the fellow fairy, Mint decided to do it anyway, officially disrupting her flight through the forest. She thought that later, when the fairy does find her, she'd tell her where she noticed her... but then... ship. A large, intimidating ship. What particularly caught Mint's eyes was the large skull mark on the sail. She almost even failed to notice the smaller boat reaching for the island, if it wasn't for the other fairy's cautious movements. Letting her 'follow target' get away, Mint focused on taking her distance from the ship and boat reaching the shore although she still was curious to know what would come out of it. 'Just don't let it be more elves' she thought to herself.</s> <\|message\|>Zvezdan Fotis He was helping the others clean up after their morning meal, leaving the food that was untouched for the later hours. Another Minotaur poked him in the side pointing on a frail looking woman.But to be fair most things looked frail compared to him. ''Why is the mermaid walking?'' He called out walking closer to her, the young children stared curiously at the girl, but hiding away letting the older speak to her. ''Did something grave happened to one of yours?'' His voice strong and a bit cold at first sound. His tail swung in concern. Zvezdan Zvezdan looked at Athena bite. Nodding to the idea to inform first the tribe of Minotaur, instead of fairies. But before everything he swam deeper to the sea floor picking things out and placing the sea plants into a empty clam as he broke the surface. Just in time to see Athena all dry and clothed starting to walk away into the forest. ''...I assume that means you didnt need a paste for the bite.'' He sighed a smile on his lips she was always a inpatient one in her own world. Not minding he was left behind he placed the mixture for healing he made between a few stones. Hiding it under a piece of driftwood for later. Swimming away from the shore he made his way to the wooden thing that carried someone to ensure no one he knew decide to give it another visit. He was a bit of shocked as he watched something hit the sea floor. A anchor was the thing but Zvezdan couldnt even phantom what it was. He poked it it didnt bite him....... He gave up on it and being sure no one was around he swam away...well at least he tried to swim away until something tugged on his long hair. The hook of a fishing pool got tangled in Zvezdan hair. He tugged and turn around trying to find the creature that was causing him the discomfort, not knowing that his turning around only tangled the metal object more with his hair. Feeling his hair up not finding any fish his worry grow.</s> <\|message\|>Athena Athena Stepped up to the minotaur with newly found courage and said "There are strangers coming on the island.." She said all worried like and had but a clueless face. She had an unshakeable beauty, Even one so crass could not but soften at her appearance. Dainty was athenas favorite word to describe herself and she smiled at the thought of getting complements from the warriors but shyly said "They are in a wood structure and they look mean" she said and folded her arms almost childishly. As They neared the the island Dawn Jumped from the boat and began to walk through the water to shore, showing signs of happiness she never imagined she could feel on the voyage here. Once she hit the dry sand she pulled the row boat up on it "So Who has the map?" She asked with a smirk. Looking around a bit to ensure their safety, she adjusts her singed sword.</s> <\|message\|>Fotis Fotis found the mermaid adorable like a young child. Even thought he didnt show it with his stoic face or stiff stance it was his tail twitching that become softer, showing the reaction. ''A wood structure...did it float?'' Fotis asked caressing chin. He continued thinking aloud. ''hm.... I wonder if the old tales...'' He looked at her snapping out of his thoughts. ''Your kin and you should hide in the waters deep inside the island, if they looked mean. '' He nodded and petted the top of her hair, in a comforting manner. '' From which direction are the strangers arriving?'' He asked still caressing the top of her head, planning to see if they would be willing to trade and leave, but if they were out for harm....they will wish they never came.</s> <\|message\|>Akira Melative Akira unsheathed her weapons and held them firmly in her hand as the people walked onto the island. She was hesitant on whether or not to trust them. But she assumed that the merfolk had told the other races.</s> <\|message\|>Daichi Katsumi Daichi hopped out of the boat as it came up on land and took out his rifle, readying it and keeping watch for anything that would try to attack them or that figure from before turned out to be hostile. Dawn asked who had the map but he didn't have it, in fact he thought she did, maybe Ahab had grabbed it.</s> <\|message\|>Mint Mint watched as three people got off the boat, successfully invading the island's shore. She retreated away from the coast, however to still get a good view of the invaders she also got closer to the route she assumed they were going to go from, assuming they would go straight. She noticed that someone out of the three was asking something from the other two. She couldn't hear what exactly the question was, but it led her to think about the possibility that their reason for invading the island was a sort of 'trip' or 'detour' going wrong. Noticing what looked like weapons on them though, adding to the skull mark on the ship, the possibility that their trip was a peaceful one went down quite a bit.</s> <\|message\|>Clarisse Seeing weapons drawn Clarisse's eyes narrowed, "I knew it," she muttered to herself. Clarisse retreated back into the forest to lay low for a little bit, although she was rather confused about what the female invader said. Surely they weren't lost, maybe looking for trrasure? Something drew them to this island, she didn't know what exactly but she was certain it was no good. As she retreated further into the forest she spotted something...purple, although there was one fairy she knew with that color hair, "curiosity kills the cat Mint," she spoke in a soft melodic tone and gave out a.slight giggle.</s> <\|message\|>Eris Belladonna Eris looked over the top of the rock and as the people came into view she ducked down her hands clasped over her mouth, tears beginning to form in her eyes. humans, her mouth formed the words as though a nightmare had just come to life, 'why are they here?' Eris thought as she began to sink lower to the ground 'maybe I should run, no they'll see me..... but if I stay here...' she trailed off in her mind and slowly peeked back over to the rock at the humans who had come ashore hearing the woman ask for a map. As she watched, memories of those weeks onboard a human ship began to rush back to her and she felt her sickness coming on and fought to keep herself from throwing up as the memory of the guns pointed at her flashed through her head.</s> <\|message\|>Mint "Wha-" Mint managed to say while trying to be quiet for some reason, even if the pirates weren't that close yet. She looked back in a sharp movement, her eyes widening a bit. It seemed like the unknown, for her at least, was scarier than the pirates. ... even though the pirates were a kind of an 'unknown' factor too. When she saw Clarisse, Mint sighed in relief. "Geez, don't scare me like that... for a moment I thought it was one of -them- coming straight for me from behind or something." Said Mint, getting closer to Clarisse. It was partly Clarisse's choice of words that caused the misunderstanding to begin with, Mint was also guilty of the same thing straight after - She emphasized the word 'them', but she really didn't mean the pirates, but other potential threats like elves. "So... what do you make of those people?" She asked, that time she did refer to the pirates.</s> <\|message\|>Clarisse Clarisse chuckled and patted the little fairy on the head, "well I'm sorry Mint I didn't mean to scare you." Her face turned serious when she asked abouf those people and sighed, "unfortunately i have run into people of their kindd before, all they know is how to pilage and plunder, not caring about anyone else but themselves." Though she shouldnt be quick to judge, but she didnt trust humans after that encounter. "Anyways its best if we steer clear of them cor a little bit, least till we know what exactly they're here for."</s>	<\|message\|>Mint Mint endured the little pat on the head, forgiving the little scare rather quickly. She just felt it'd be a waste of time to bother saying more than she already did. "Oh, so you do have experience with them, Clarisse? They don't sound too friendly, from what you're saying.. drawing weapons like that also being rude." Said the little fairy as she wondered what kind of experience could Clarisse, the mermaid in front of her, possibly have with those people. She imagined that it wouldn't be anything good though, from what she heard. "... But couldn't we just watch them like this, so we could just know what they're up to by their actions? That's what I thought anyway." Mint didn't completely disagree with withdrawing, but she didn't really agree with just letting them come without any warning about their possible routes. She couldn't know about the mermaid which already went and warned the minotaurs, but she didn't want to be the one responsible if the pirates just decided to pop out of nowhere inside the minotaur village.</s>
<\|description\|>Mint Age: 18 Personality: She'd seem like the 'nice girl' type, with her ability and her use of it supporting that statement, but she can be in fact surprisingly childish. She is not evil however, just a bit childish. She even looks a bit young for her age, but she does get offended by others calling her out about it. She developed a mix of fear and hatred for elves, unless they prove to be friendly and not haughty, which she doesn't believe will happen anytime soon. Looks up to Minotaurs, helps them every once in a while, although this is pretty much on a whim. Abilities: She is capable of flying, that's her regular ability for a fairy, but she has two little special abilities. The first of those is Photosynthesis - through what seems to be her wings, she is able to absorb some power from the sun, and convert it to power and some neutrients for herself. The extent of this is about the same as human meals - she has to focus on it actively for about 10 minutes to get a feeling of 'fullness' (it can vary depending on the amount of light) . She passively does it too, but it's not nearly enough to actually be anything significant, it just means a bit longer 'recharge times'. The second special ability is to transfer energy from herself to other living beings, including plants. When she does this, it looks like twinkles of light coming out of her towards her target. Bio: Having run away from some elves she come to anger more than once, she is a bit against staying in one place for long periods of time. (for now I guess.)</s> <\|message\|>Zvezdan Zvezdan As the body started to sink he came closer to it watching it drop deeper. Air bubbles started to leave the mans lips. He could just live him to drown, like he intended... At this point the jelly fish scattered away. The body softly fall on the sea floor......but if they search revenge for the death I would set the girls in great danger... His farms went around the pirate and swimming fast he reached the surface and quite quickly the beach too. No one was on it lucky, he pulled himself and the pirate body beside the row board that was resting on the sand. Water dripping from his tail and hair he pulled the man fully out of the water. Pressing the chest a few times to make him splutter the salty sea water. Was he starting to wake up? Zvezdan leaned over him and his voice used to sing his spell he hum singed sending a shiver of calm and pleasant feeling over the nearly drowning man. Take your friends and leave quick. And zvezdan turned around pushing himself back into the depths of the sea. Hoping the man would do as asked. Fotis He smirked a treasure they say. If someone refers that they wanted treasure you could get them to over pay easily. They should have choose their words more wisely. Before he could let any comment at the offered object another of the sea kin appeared, she was scared and that pulled any fatherly string in his body. He used his big hand and petted gently the top of Eris head who hide behind him. ''Na,na, its fine. '' He all but cooed at her, smiling at her in the fashion that he knew what he was doing. He kneed and urged Eris to climb on his back and hold onto. Turning his attention to the newcomers. ''Treasure you say, That arent cheap. '' He looked at the woman who offered the metal object his face showing his displeasure for the low offer. ''Either way, Follow me if treasure is what you want. '' He said smiling starting walk in the woods path, not too long they were in a clearing several stones scattered around and a old camp fire was in place. He sat down on a big stone offering the pirates the other stones to sit on. ''Let exchange our names for good fortune. I am Fotis.''</s> <\|message\|>Faeya Delisia Faeya saw Fotis discussing with the visitors. Something about treasure struck her as quite odd. She looked around and decided to go help Fotis with the newcomers. She flew over to where Fotis sat and gracefully landed next to him. Her eyes scanned the newcomers with a friendly and curious smile. "Hello, Fotis and… newcomers. Are you here for something?" She saw Eris and smiled at her, but she then noticed the girl's stance and her protective instincts kicked in. She turned her attention back to the arrivals and Her eyebrow went up, almost as if to say 'what did you do to her?' Though she still looked up at everyone, Faeya was very protective.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Page Take your friends and leave quick. These were the words Seth heard as he quickly regained consciousness. He leaned up from the sand a sharp pain shot through his stomach and he began to cough up water. The coughing knocked him on to his back. After the coughing stopped he was breathing somewhat heavily and should slow down a bit. His eyes starred into the endless blue sky as water seeped out the corner of his mouth. Seth attempted to get up again and was successful. His body still felt uneasy and he should anxiously be resting but he had to catch up with the rest of his crew. He stubbled into a woods like scenery and used the passing trees as support when he walked. "D..Dawn! Daichi!......Ahab!" Seth struggled to shout as he walked. He should be shouting for help. After that jelly fish incident he shouldn't be on his feet traveling in unknown territory. Speaking of the jelly fish incident, Seth couldn't stop thinking about how unnatural the appearance of the jelly fishes were. Normally they aren't hostile but what happened with Seth was unquestionably hostile. What confused him the most was how did he get out of the water. Whatever saved him must have something out for him and in crew. Seth put his mysterious savior aside and continued his blind journey through the woods. He shouted the names of his crews mates again. His voice had a horse tone to it. Hopefully someone will hear his shouts of distress.</s> <\|message\|>Eris Belladonna Eris had climbed onto the minotaur's back and wrapped her arms and legs around the minotaur and hid her head behind his back. while they walked she looked at the humans and relaxed a small bit but was still extremely scared when she looked over what they had and especially what the lady offered Fotis holding her hand up to her mouth and almost throwing up at the sight of the pistol but held it back... barely. When they reached the old camp she kept holding onto Fotis even when he sat down almost looking as though she she was never gonna let go of him.</s> <\|message\|>Daichi Katsumi Daichi turned and stood still, listening, he thought he heard...Seth?...calling out for them as the group began walking he turned and said "you guys go ahead..." and headed in the direction he thought the sound was coming from, keeping his rifle up, eventually he did come across Seth "Seth? What happened to you?" he asked, Seth looked like he had been breathing nothing but seawater for the past 10 minutes, he was soaked head to toe and had sting marks all over him, Daichi went over and helped him "here, sit for a minute" he said as he eased Seth down against a tree.</s> <\|message\|>Dawn Nix had fallen in a cavern by the ocean, the possibility of it being a mermaid lair was a 50/50 chance she yelled out "Can anyone hear me?!" her knee had a large gash and a few bruises on her arms and legs. She was trying to get to the pirate ship, because she felt the need to warn them about the island and its treasure. She had ran so fast without thinking, she fell hard and far down. She was lucky to have a few halves of bread and her flute. She began playing a rather sad tune Athena saw her chance to leave and took it, She jumped from tree to tree artistically once she got closer to the ocean she noticed a boy who looked as if he had been in a fight with a swarm of jellyfish. 'Lovely' She thought to herself Another male came over to him and helped him sit. She decided to drop down behind the injured one. "Move" She said and pushed the other one aside with a soft nudge and laid her hand over the injured boy, creating a bright light all the markings of the stings were slowly erasing and he looked less sickly when she stopped. When she stopped she ran off to the beach and jumped in, instantly shifting into a mermaid. Dawn Followed the minotaur and gave a half smile to the scared girl, and the other one known as faeya. Her eyes darted around before she sat on the stone "Why do you think this is Cheap I can assure you it is not" She said to him and smiled when he asked for the names "I am Dawn, First mate" She said not knowing if he even knew what that meant. Her eyes suddenly were glued to the girl on the minotaurs back, unusual looking eyes and facial features not that of a normal human she smirked and held up the gun and showed her the barrel of it was empty then set it down. "Don't worry young one" she said and pulled her attention back to the minotaur</s> <\|message\|>Fotis Zvezdan Had a frown on his face, he tried to find eris or clariss but neither were around the typical places. He really wished to have someone with him at this moment. The weird bite on his hair and the person he gave warning too, were all too fresh and making him feel fear and insecure. He crossed his hands. A small worry that those two ended up walking on land to satisfy their curiosity was starting to creep on him. There were still places he didnt check. Like those 'secret' corners of the ocean ever of them enjoyed finding and call it their own. Following a memory of when he saw one of the mermaids swim in a system of under water caves he quickly swam to the cave opening and into it. He hoped they all were there together, he didnt worry about Athena at the moment as he was sure the tribe of the Minotaur wouldnt let any harm come upon them. It was the melody that guided him the last few turns to reach a cavern. Well.....that wasnt the girl he hoped to find here. He silently watched from underwater listening to the music she played. Only when she stopped for a brief moment he broke the surface and watched her with a curious eyebrow raised. He saw her with the other fairies around but couldnt place a name on her. Fotis He gave a nod of welcome when Faeya arrived and greeted him. He wondered briefly if the elf folk would attempt and interact with this newcomers. His attention shifting back to the task on hand. His tail petting eris back even tickling her a bit to cheer her up as she clung to his back for something that he felt like was great fear. He will be more cautious. "Why do you think this is Cheap I can assure you it is not" Fotis smirked knowingly. He didnt knew the exact prize of it the exact worth but it was surely not enough, mostly it was their first offer and first offers were always a drastic underpay for the goods. "I am Dawn, First mate" He didnt know what first mate mean but he assumed it was similar to first chef a leader. And the behavior of the woman was speaking in pro for it. ''Well, if you think thats enough for a treasure may I ask what you want? Maybe treasure doesnt mean the same thing to your kin and mine. If you ask my mother she would tell you that the greatest treasure of our home are the healing herbs. For that treasure that would be enough indeed.'' He knew about the tales of the treasure and its curse to lead to death to anyone who took it away. Each tribe telling the tale just a bit different, but in the end it was telling the same thing. As a trader he wanted to see what they own, how much he could take from them, as a Minotaur he wanted to know where they stand. Were they searching a way to die? Or were just plain greedy.</s> <\|message\|>Daichi Katsumi Daichi wondered who the girl was as she jumped into the water and disappeared, whatever she did seemed to help Seth and for that he thanked her, he knelt down next to Seth "Seth, are you okay?, what happened?" he asked as he looked seth over again to see if there were any injuries left.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Page Seth smiled as a familiar voice could be heard coming closer towards him. From what he could tell it might of been Daichi. His eyes site was not in the best shape so he didn't trust as of now. As the helpful mestrious voice asked if he was okay Seth frowned and said. "I had better days..." He leaned against a tree with the help from Daichi and took a deep breathe. Seth was about to finally have a successful moment to rest until a another presence was felt behind him. Seth tried to ask who was there but his throat was in serious pain. As he heard the foot steps of the stranger become closer he attempted to move but to no avail was unable to get up. Soon he felt a warm sensation fell his body and attend to the countless bruises on his body. His breathing receded back to a normal rate and Seth looked healthier. The sudden change from sickness to healthiness cause him to cough a lot but it stopped soon. Seth quickly opened his eyes but closed them seconds after. The sun raise stunned his eyes and he opened them slowly again adjusting to the light. He turned and looked in every direction as if he lost something. "W...what was that?" Seth asked looking at Daichi. He stood up slowly with the help of the tree. His body was healed, he just had to adapt to the sudden change. He heard the question Daichi asked him but didn't want to answer. Instead he said "We.....should catch back up with Ahab and Dawn." When he mentioned them the thought of that mysterious voice he heard before he washed up upon shore came back into his head. He decided to put it aside for now and wait until he was reunited with the rest of his crew mates.</s> <\|message\|>Alex Mason Alex must have had a really, really deep sleep. He awoke upon the ship he was contracted to so no change there. Alex got out of bed and strapped his two katanas to his waist before leaving the room. Sunlight burst through the room and into his eyes as soon as he opened the door. Hey! Looks like we reached land. Alex jogged over to the side of the ship facing the island, it was very tropical and quite beautiful in a sense. Alex vaulted over the side and rolled when he hit the ground. When he stood up he scanned everywhere, looking for any sign of his crewmates. "Now where the hell have they gone?" He asked himself.</s>	<\|message\|>Mint After waiting for a while and watching what the pirates actually did, Mint decided that it was about time she quit that hiding game and actually know more about the newcomers. "Sorry." She said, flying away from her hiding spot so she could come from behind Fotis, and face those pirates. After all, surprising those newcomers from behind wasn't a good idea, especially with their... quite mysterious weapons, at least from Mint's point of view. She did know about swords, but those... metal sticks with a hole in them, she couldn't really identify those, no matter how much she looked at them. "Hey, Fotis!" Mint called, waving as she flew towards him. "Hello to you too." She said with a little smile as she landed, not really remembering the mermaid's name at the moment. "So you must be the newcomers." Mind said with a straight face, trying not to look too suspicious, even though she was from one side excited, and from the other side a bit scared.</s>
<\|description\|>Alex Mason Age: 20 Appearance: Personality: Very loyal and friendly companion to have on the ship, he is also a brave and daring young adventurer not afraid of combat or the unknown. He follows the strict code of Bushido he found in his travels to Japan, where he also picked up his swords. Bio: Alex is a lone mercenary to begin with, his contracts and career taking him around the world from the age of 17. He loved travelling with his companions, however, in a trip to the eastern isles of Japan, Alex found his first weapons when he veered of from the group, as he turned back to join his party, they were all slain. The village was attacked by barbarians controlled by a warlord. Alex managed to slip away, running to the nearest safe haven he could. He stumbled upon a temple which an old sensei resided. He took Alex in and taught him how to use his swords and the virtues of the samurai- Bushido. His contract now has put him with the pirates as an extra hand for the voyage, as well as extra muscle</s> <\|message\|>Faeya Delisia Faeya saw Fotis discussing with the visitors. Something about treasure struck her as quite odd. She looked around and decided to go help Fotis with the newcomers. She flew over to where Fotis sat and gracefully landed next to him. Her eyes scanned the newcomers with a friendly and curious smile. "Hello, Fotis and… newcomers. Are you here for something?" She saw Eris and smiled at her, but she then noticed the girl's stance and her protective instincts kicked in. She turned her attention back to the arrivals and Her eyebrow went up, almost as if to say 'what did you do to her?' Though she still looked up at everyone, Faeya was very protective.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Page Take your friends and leave quick. These were the words Seth heard as he quickly regained consciousness. He leaned up from the sand a sharp pain shot through his stomach and he began to cough up water. The coughing knocked him on to his back. After the coughing stopped he was breathing somewhat heavily and should slow down a bit. His eyes starred into the endless blue sky as water seeped out the corner of his mouth. Seth attempted to get up again and was successful. His body still felt uneasy and he should anxiously be resting but he had to catch up with the rest of his crew. He stubbled into a woods like scenery and used the passing trees as support when he walked. "D..Dawn! Daichi!......Ahab!" Seth struggled to shout as he walked. He should be shouting for help. After that jelly fish incident he shouldn't be on his feet traveling in unknown territory. Speaking of the jelly fish incident, Seth couldn't stop thinking about how unnatural the appearance of the jelly fishes were. Normally they aren't hostile but what happened with Seth was unquestionably hostile. What confused him the most was how did he get out of the water. Whatever saved him must have something out for him and in crew. Seth put his mysterious savior aside and continued his blind journey through the woods. He shouted the names of his crews mates again. His voice had a horse tone to it. Hopefully someone will hear his shouts of distress.</s> <\|message\|>Eris Belladonna Eris had climbed onto the minotaur's back and wrapped her arms and legs around the minotaur and hid her head behind his back. while they walked she looked at the humans and relaxed a small bit but was still extremely scared when she looked over what they had and especially what the lady offered Fotis holding her hand up to her mouth and almost throwing up at the sight of the pistol but held it back... barely. When they reached the old camp she kept holding onto Fotis even when he sat down almost looking as though she she was never gonna let go of him.</s> <\|message\|>Daichi Katsumi Daichi turned and stood still, listening, he thought he heard...Seth?...calling out for them as the group began walking he turned and said "you guys go ahead..." and headed in the direction he thought the sound was coming from, keeping his rifle up, eventually he did come across Seth "Seth? What happened to you?" he asked, Seth looked like he had been breathing nothing but seawater for the past 10 minutes, he was soaked head to toe and had sting marks all over him, Daichi went over and helped him "here, sit for a minute" he said as he eased Seth down against a tree.</s> <\|message\|>Dawn Nix had fallen in a cavern by the ocean, the possibility of it being a mermaid lair was a 50/50 chance she yelled out "Can anyone hear me?!" her knee had a large gash and a few bruises on her arms and legs. She was trying to get to the pirate ship, because she felt the need to warn them about the island and its treasure. She had ran so fast without thinking, she fell hard and far down. She was lucky to have a few halves of bread and her flute. She began playing a rather sad tune Athena saw her chance to leave and took it, She jumped from tree to tree artistically once she got closer to the ocean she noticed a boy who looked as if he had been in a fight with a swarm of jellyfish. 'Lovely' She thought to herself Another male came over to him and helped him sit. She decided to drop down behind the injured one. "Move" She said and pushed the other one aside with a soft nudge and laid her hand over the injured boy, creating a bright light all the markings of the stings were slowly erasing and he looked less sickly when she stopped. When she stopped she ran off to the beach and jumped in, instantly shifting into a mermaid. Dawn Followed the minotaur and gave a half smile to the scared girl, and the other one known as faeya. Her eyes darted around before she sat on the stone "Why do you think this is Cheap I can assure you it is not" She said to him and smiled when he asked for the names "I am Dawn, First mate" She said not knowing if he even knew what that meant. Her eyes suddenly were glued to the girl on the minotaurs back, unusual looking eyes and facial features not that of a normal human she smirked and held up the gun and showed her the barrel of it was empty then set it down. "Don't worry young one" she said and pulled her attention back to the minotaur</s> <\|message\|>Fotis Zvezdan Had a frown on his face, he tried to find eris or clariss but neither were around the typical places. He really wished to have someone with him at this moment. The weird bite on his hair and the person he gave warning too, were all too fresh and making him feel fear and insecure. He crossed his hands. A small worry that those two ended up walking on land to satisfy their curiosity was starting to creep on him. There were still places he didnt check. Like those 'secret' corners of the ocean ever of them enjoyed finding and call it their own. Following a memory of when he saw one of the mermaids swim in a system of under water caves he quickly swam to the cave opening and into it. He hoped they all were there together, he didnt worry about Athena at the moment as he was sure the tribe of the Minotaur wouldnt let any harm come upon them. It was the melody that guided him the last few turns to reach a cavern. Well.....that wasnt the girl he hoped to find here. He silently watched from underwater listening to the music she played. Only when she stopped for a brief moment he broke the surface and watched her with a curious eyebrow raised. He saw her with the other fairies around but couldnt place a name on her. Fotis He gave a nod of welcome when Faeya arrived and greeted him. He wondered briefly if the elf folk would attempt and interact with this newcomers. His attention shifting back to the task on hand. His tail petting eris back even tickling her a bit to cheer her up as she clung to his back for something that he felt like was great fear. He will be more cautious. "Why do you think this is Cheap I can assure you it is not" Fotis smirked knowingly. He didnt knew the exact prize of it the exact worth but it was surely not enough, mostly it was their first offer and first offers were always a drastic underpay for the goods. "I am Dawn, First mate" He didnt know what first mate mean but he assumed it was similar to first chef a leader. And the behavior of the woman was speaking in pro for it. ''Well, if you think thats enough for a treasure may I ask what you want? Maybe treasure doesnt mean the same thing to your kin and mine. If you ask my mother she would tell you that the greatest treasure of our home are the healing herbs. For that treasure that would be enough indeed.'' He knew about the tales of the treasure and its curse to lead to death to anyone who took it away. Each tribe telling the tale just a bit different, but in the end it was telling the same thing. As a trader he wanted to see what they own, how much he could take from them, as a Minotaur he wanted to know where they stand. Were they searching a way to die? Or were just plain greedy.</s> <\|message\|>Daichi Katsumi Daichi wondered who the girl was as she jumped into the water and disappeared, whatever she did seemed to help Seth and for that he thanked her, he knelt down next to Seth "Seth, are you okay?, what happened?" he asked as he looked seth over again to see if there were any injuries left.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Page Seth smiled as a familiar voice could be heard coming closer towards him. From what he could tell it might of been Daichi. His eyes site was not in the best shape so he didn't trust as of now. As the helpful mestrious voice asked if he was okay Seth frowned and said. "I had better days..." He leaned against a tree with the help from Daichi and took a deep breathe. Seth was about to finally have a successful moment to rest until a another presence was felt behind him. Seth tried to ask who was there but his throat was in serious pain. As he heard the foot steps of the stranger become closer he attempted to move but to no avail was unable to get up. Soon he felt a warm sensation fell his body and attend to the countless bruises on his body. His breathing receded back to a normal rate and Seth looked healthier. The sudden change from sickness to healthiness cause him to cough a lot but it stopped soon. Seth quickly opened his eyes but closed them seconds after. The sun raise stunned his eyes and he opened them slowly again adjusting to the light. He turned and looked in every direction as if he lost something. "W...what was that?" Seth asked looking at Daichi. He stood up slowly with the help of the tree. His body was healed, he just had to adapt to the sudden change. He heard the question Daichi asked him but didn't want to answer. Instead he said "We.....should catch back up with Ahab and Dawn." When he mentioned them the thought of that mysterious voice he heard before he washed up upon shore came back into his head. He decided to put it aside for now and wait until he was reunited with the rest of his crew mates.</s> <\|message\|>Alex Mason Alex must have had a really, really deep sleep. He awoke upon the ship he was contracted to so no change there. Alex got out of bed and strapped his two katanas to his waist before leaving the room. Sunlight burst through the room and into his eyes as soon as he opened the door. Hey! Looks like we reached land. Alex jogged over to the side of the ship facing the island, it was very tropical and quite beautiful in a sense. Alex vaulted over the side and rolled when he hit the ground. When he stood up he scanned everywhere, looking for any sign of his crewmates. "Now where the hell have they gone?" He asked himself.</s> <\|message\|>Mint After waiting for a while and watching what the pirates actually did, Mint decided that it was about time she quit that hiding game and actually know more about the newcomers. "Sorry." She said, flying away from her hiding spot so she could come from behind Fotis, and face those pirates. After all, surprising those newcomers from behind wasn't a good idea, especially with their... quite mysterious weapons, at least from Mint's point of view. She did know about swords, but those... metal sticks with a hole in them, she couldn't really identify those, no matter how much she looked at them. "Hey, Fotis!" Mint called, waving as she flew towards him. "Hello to you too." She said with a little smile as she landed, not really remembering the mermaid's name at the moment. "So you must be the newcomers." Mind said with a straight face, trying not to look too suspicious, even though she was from one side excited, and from the other side a bit scared.</s> <\|message\|>Faeya Delisia Faeya glanced at Mint and become much more protective. Her eyebrows furrowed at the young woman. "What-what do you want?" Her eyes went to the other men and she bit her bottom lip nervously. She knew some would want their abilities for their own benefit. It was, of course, something they could not do. She looked at the girl again and noticed the greedy glint in her eye. It was in all of their eyes, but also adventure and experience. As if they haven't lived their entire life on one island like her.</s> <\|message\|>Alex Mason "Hello?" Alex called out. "Anybody?" He yelled again. Alex drew one of his katanas, he didn't know what was on this island. He decided to go left from the side of the boat and walk the perimeter of this side. Until he found someone or something he would carry on and periodically call out for his crewmates.</s> <\|message\|>Nix Nix had stopped playing because she ran out of breath and looked over to where a merman had came up from the water "Well hello" She said and put her flute away and kindly stared at the Merman "My name is nix.. Can i ride you to shore?" She said softly thinking it wise to ask instead of assume. Her eyes were a mix of unusual colors brown and yellow with a hint of green, None of the other fairies had eyes like her. SHe was special in more ways than one, If he had recognized her hed know she was a fairy the one fairy who never grew wings. Dawn stood up and crossed her arms "We want treasure! Gold, rubies, gems! That is what we want! Not silly herbs or potions nothing of that sort" She said all too hastily her body language was clear as day ready to fight She looked at her crew and back at the minotaur confidently. Athena swam far out into the ocean to her favorite spot once there she was almost and completly surrounded by sharks, She liked talking to them and decided once these pirtes think they have won she will use the sharks to eat them and save the day. But for now she was talking to them and their children, relaxing watching them feed was incredible.</s>	<\|message\|>Alex Mason Alex turned around to a voice, a women with brown and yellow eyes with some sort of greensish tinge. He didn't know if she was talking to him so he pointed to himself in a questioning way, just in case.</s>
<\|description\|>Pretty nice. BTW, you're free to post intro of your characters if you feel like</s> <\|message\|>Pretty nice. CHAPTER 1: A DAY IN SCARLET "It begins then…" The scene opened on a luxurious room filled with a Victorian essence, only one of the many rooms within a big mansion of polished marble, cedarwood and colorful rocks of any kind. The man in black seated in a red and gold sofa spoke with an elegant tone while holding a glass of red wine in his hand. Anybody would think this man was of great importance, a renowned figure yet he was in fact an unknown person for the media and thus the population. Yet still he acted with the dignity that only a great man can boast. His interlocutor dressed with a tartan shirt, long pants and a top hat all in a mixture of wild colors, both from the clothes themselves and the stains of different paintings, a total contrast to the appearance of the other man. He was busy on his own painting but gave himself time to smile and reply. "It was quite a journey, to find the ten pieces, heh! It even took a person's life to gather them. Do you wear no regret Elean?" The man in black, Elean, sipped from his wine and said. "It had to come eventually, that life was wasted after all, a fool old man, a complete idiot that bought all the innocent lies, and his fate was the right one." "But, you took his life, didn't you?" "I do wear that life my dear friend. Now please, let's enjoy this time, tomorrow will be a great day for sure." The man sipped from the glass again emptying it while his partner continued his painting. Both were accompanied by the Revolutionary Etude echoing through the room. The day of the Scarlet is soon to fall. I'll see that you pain your sin. ---------------------------------------- The biggest event of the year, The great exposition of art from all the world begins today! The most important day for Anheldrim and the entire world. Which great artist will come triumphant and which will face the bitter defeat? Regardless of the outcome, enjoy! For this will be surely a great day to remember, a day that will be carved within every single man and woman, every single artist! The greatest city, the metropolis of art was even more lively than the usual. The streets filled with colors and music, with scents and dances; street artists performed their grace with passion in an attempt to gather the attention of any tourist or passerby, but mainly to show its devotion. From each corner a different melody played yet when they mixed it didn't became a total chaos, instead they combined into a great symphony. The scents of food covered the environment, sweet, salty, spicy and bitter, each one a temptation, each one calling the people to enter into the kitchens and enjoy a promising meal. The expressions of each art manifested as well, thus lights danced in the air, fling pots of food traveled through the streets, dancing figures took form and even buildings raised into the sky. Even for those who had lived years in this city, each single one was a new surprise, truly a marvelous scenery drawn from a dream. Yet all this was just the entrance hall from what all had come to see, The Great exposition of Art which was to happen in the center of the city, in a circle that covered several kilometers of radius filled with magnificent buildings reminiscent of gothic and roman structures, each single one a giant palace hosting a different event. Pictures, Dance, Martial arts, Sculptures, Music of each genre, Movies, choreographies and many more that it would take weeks just to describe each one. It also hosted the biggest and most beautiful garden in the entire world, each year ornamented by different arranges made by Petruccio Abaccio, the man considered to be the greatest gardener and whose very services are said to be expensive enough to buy an entire life. Many men and women dressed like nobles walked through the streets, through the palaces in dignified manner, a glance of elegance, a glance of contempt for the lower classes, the ones who awaited in the shadows wishing for a moment to shine and expecting one to pick the leftovers, a few impatient ones willing to claim rights and new property by their own hands or even perhaps following complex grudges. A magnificent day, from either viewpoint, even bad ones, no one would doubt that claim, but this one was to come as the most special one of all for each single one. Many would be involved, yet only a few will be granted the permission to walk in the scarlet carpet of the biggest event, the social class was of no importance, instead, the will to fight, the will to live, and the will to fulfill one's dream would be the judges of this event. In other words, anyone was free to participate if he or she had what it was required. Or more likely they will have no choice to step back from the contest. ---------------------------------- Clad in a gold and blue dress, the noble young woman, Nadia Eisendin was seated on a luxurious bench in one of the many gardens close to the philharmonic palace. She was both, nervous and anxious, holding always a black case with her, not too big yet her slender figure enhanced its size. This girl was a particular famous figure in the world, a celebrity if you will. She was the current head of the Eisendin family, one of the most famous families in the world of music, crafted from poor roots by the hands of Lord J. Eisendin, the patriarch of the family, a man who lead the greatest philharmonic ever seen. The world cried four years ago when the man at the incredible age of 123 years died; all his legacy and fortune was inherited by his granddaughter Nadia, the 19 years old woman whose parents died years ago in a car accident. The girl waved her short legs, her glance lost in the empty sky. She was a very shy and reclusive person often portraying eyes that reflected a strange fear, yet also a bizarre determination. Nadia was perhaps one of the most important figures within this tale.</s> <\|message\|>Unknown. Simply called "The Bard" The Bard came out of the shadows of an alleyway. He merged with the group headed to the garden, and no one noticed him. When he Arrived at the Garden, he stopped in front of a empty bench. Perfect, he thought. He snapped and his Turntable appeared. He set it up and began play as he brought his hat down to cover his face. As the Song played, a Scene played out in the path. A cloud had appeared, and a young boy was playing in the rain humming "rain rain go away". The Bard smiled</s> <\|message\|>Choro "See ya tomorrow!" a young woman called over her shoulder as she left the "Kioko Café". Throwing her handbag over her shoulder she proceeded down the street, towards the philharmonic. As usual she would take the shortcut through the park to get home. She liked the calm and the stone hewn benches that sometimes inspired her dances. Her boots sounded surreal in her ears as she left the pavement and stepped onto the gravelled path leading through the park. Something was oddly off today. Choro didn't feel like herself. Frustration took hold of her and so she dug in her bag in search for her lipstick and hand help mirror. The dark stained her already perfectly coloured lips once more. A short correction with her middle finger and she let her utensils glide back into the bag. Choro froze in her tracks. Was that music she was hearing? Following the foreign sound she soon came to a bench and a young man. Seemingly he was the one creating the music . . . and an image of some sort. Feeling the blood rush faster through her veins the dark haired woman let her bag fall to the ground next to the musician as the rhythm took over control of her body. Throwing her arms up and her head back she let the bass ripple through her body, move her hips and shoulders, making her sway until she felt in synch with all of it. Moving to the bass she let her chest circle, throwing herself upward, backward . . . falling, a smile on her lips she extended a hand to catch herself and land on her feet. Using the momentum she spun, kicking off the ground in a pirouette, dancing to her hearts extent until the music stopped and she stood there, breathing heavily, looking into the sky, a childish smile on her darkened lips.</s> <\|message\|>Keiji Keiji was walking up the street, his mask was on hiding his face, he was glancing around looking at all the people dressed up and displaying their craft, the arts were beautiful surly, but with so many people around he eventually headed to the park and had come upon a musician playing for a dancer, he decided to sit down in the grass and watch her for awhile</s> <\|message\|>Unknown. Simply called "The Bard" The Bard saw the woman come up and start dancing to the beat of his song. His smile grew larger and he thought he should play a new song as the first one started dying down. He cracked his knuckles and snapped again to change the song to his liking. The breeze flew though the park and a sweet smell came with it. As the new Song started, The old image faded and sand swirled to create a man of sand, and the Sand Man offered his hand to the Dancing Lady. "Shall we?" The Bard said, his voice seeming to blend with the song.</s> <\|message\|>Choro Wind picked up, played with strands of black hair that was rebelling against the pins holding it in place. A new song kicked in, starting very slow, making Choro sway slightly. She closed her eyes, letting herself fall into the new song – literally. Just before she hit the ground she rolled to the side, spreading her legs in the air and pushing her body off the ground. Soon she found back on her feet again to meet . . . a sandman? A hand was offered to her. Had a voice spoken to her? Choro felt light-headed and a bit dizzy as she extended her arm to lay her hand in that of the sandman. Rolling her head she let herself get pulled in and work her own little magic by not thinking about her movements any more. Intuition took over. The movements became more powerful, less lazy as it had been with the first song. Throwing her head back she grabbed the shoulders of the man before her and pulled herself up upon the sand to gently lower her legs behind the creature and find solid ground, back to back with the sandman. For her everything had become a blur of sound and colour. Her trained muscles stretched beneath her skin making her countless tattoos dance with her. She had to remember this kid – he mixed nice tunes. If he'd also manage some classic or rock?</s>	<\|message\|>Pretty nice. Interesting.... Thought Nadia sitting in her own bench while observing the artists that arrived the Palace. Let's see... are they professionals that will participate in the Great Exposition?.... Wondered the girl. Their acts were noble, they were devoted each one in their passions. The girl bitted her lower lip, they were the opposite of her existence who was unnable to bring passion to the art she practiced.... Or more likely the art she has to practice. They don't seem like pro to me... maybe is just people who had come to see the spectacle... Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice, a ethereal like voice formed in the air which resonated through the entirety of the garden. "Greetings my fellow artists. It's my pleasure to announce that the main event will soon begin. Please, those who had their entrances head to the Philharmonic's Palace. Our first event will be a commemoration to our dear Lord Jeremiah Eisendin on the fourth year after his death." It's the signal.... thought Nadia, being she the current head of the Eisendin family she had a special spot in the main balcony. She should had entered earlier to get ready, the presence of the artists distracted her. Can't waste more time with these low people anyway thought as she stood up from the bench and headed to the palace.</s>
<\|description\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) Age: 30 Appearance: Personality: Loves to learn more things constantly. A peaceful person, he prefers commerce and negotiation to battle, and will only fight another person in self defense. Skills: Engineering, computer use, electronics, physics Non-standard Abilities: Mutation: Radiation absorption: Metabolism feeds on Alpha, Beta, and Gamma radiation up to a certain level. If he absorbs too much, his radiation level will start to go down once he enters and low radiation area. This allows him to travel areas that would normally be dangerous for humans to be in. While metabolizing radiation cellular mitosis occurs faster, giving him up to a 5x healing rate. Bionic Implants: Computer interface: This implant can wirelessly access nearby computers and download data or control them. It allows perfect recall of any data stored on the device. It also stores his electronic currency behind a firewall so that it can't be stolen by run-of-the-mill thieves. Equipment: Dual Ion Rifle: Can switch between firing Negative Ions, which damage shields and electronics and stuns organic life, and Positive Ions, which heat up and burn targets, though it isn't as efficient at producing damage as a particle or laser weapon. Wrist-comp: A largely unnecessary computer on his forearm, he keeps it for its superior processing speed, Geiger counter, holo-projector, and long range communications array, essentially an overpowered cell phone. Backup power cells: Extra charges for his rifle or wristcomp. Sometimes used to bring derelict technology back to life. Personal shield generator: Found on a dead Slaver, it doesn't protect against many hits, especially from heavier guns, but it is enough to keep him from getting injured by a stray shot while diving for cover or moving between cover areas. Hyper-crystal necklace: Given to him as payment for repairing the reactor that almost killed him, he keeps it both for sentimental reasons and because it is both beautiful and valuable. The hypercrystal appears to contain a moving light within it, as the tachyons that enter it from hyperspace decay into photons when they enter our space-time continuum. Theoretically, the crystal could be used to power a hyperdrive, but he lacks the funds to build one. Bio: Shortly after birth, he was adopted by someone who could afford to properly raise a child on Earth, something which is fairly rare. Raised by a Zathuran engineer, Setta Feestra, who worked at a starport in one of the larger salvage cities by the name of Savannah, he studied science and technology from a young age. He left when he got old enough. His implant was a gift from his parent, and was manufactured on their homeworld. After leaving Savannah he traveled around, looking for a place where he could put his skills to work, earning a living by helping people. He learned of his mutation when a traveling wave reactor he was building for a city developed a radiation leak. He received a lethal dose of radiation and was expected to die, but over the next few days his radiation sickness went away, and his sores began to scab over. Within a week, he was reading as radiation free by the Geiger counters at the clinic. Since then he has made a decent living salvaging in lightly irradiated areas, as few people have tried salvaging them, and radiation suits and radiation treatment drugs are fairly expensive. Name: Zathuran (Zthu'rn) Homeworld: Zatha Specialization: Advanced tech, especially power, FTL, and scientific equipment. Appearance: Red, yellow, or sometimes Purple Humanoids. To the human eye they appear to have a mix of male and female features, such as male physique, but also having feminine facial features. They rarely have visible hair on their faces or heads, though what hair they do have is in shades of white, silver, or grey. Description: A race of hermaphrodites, they have a fairly diverse culture compared to many. The structure of their brains naturally makes it easier to understand advanced mathematics and physics, which has lead to many of them specializing in technology. In fact, their technology is the industry standard in the areas of hyperdrives and warp drives, as well as quantum singularity reactor technology. Their computer technology is also some of the best, as it has needed to be to do the calculations necessary for advanced physics research. Those that don't go into such fields often still enter a scientific field, causing a much larger than normal percent of their population to work in biology and the medical fields. They also have a rich culture of art, music, and philosophy which draw large numbers of their people into it. This uneven distribution of employment has lead to them seeking other races out to fill the jobs in their business which their own society cannot provide. Many also go to other worlds to seek better employment opportunities outside of the flooded employment market of their homeworld. At a young age all children are given a computer interface implant to aid in their education. Other races also purchase these implants from time to time, as they work with a variety of neural patterns as long as the proper firmware is installed on the chip.</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) Has'la walked down the road, traveling westward. He had left Houston the day before, and salvaged the few buildings that they came across. While most were picked clean, they did manage to find a storm cellar that most salvagers had missed. He had picked up a pair of boots, a few packs of cigarettes, and the like. It wasn't much, but it would buy them a room for the night and a hot meal. He stepped off of the road as a large truck drove by him. It was a pre-apocalyptic military truck by the looks of it, an old diesel vehicle. They weren't that rare, as suitable fuels were easy to produce. The truck was escorted by four Jeep Lightnings, all-electric vehicles with the classic Jeep military look. An hour later he saw the town on the horizon, with the hill overlooking it covered in Vertical Axis Wind Turbines. A few minutes later they came to a booth at the side of the road with a cable from the wind turbines running to it. A older model, and more worn Lightning was parked beside the booth. The booth was covered in charge cells, and a man sat behind it. "Excuse me, could I get some cells charged?" He laid a few depleted cells on the counter. "Sure," the man said, picking the cells up. He plugged them into a charging station and, a few seconds later, pulled them back out. "1.3 Valn." Has'la placed his wristcomp near the mans device and transferred the currency through it. The man used an Iphone 9 by the looks of it. An outdated piece of PA tech, but for transferring currency and simple communications it was sufficient. "Anything you like?" asked the man behind the booth, seeing Has'la looking over the cells on his stand. "Not really, I was hoping you would have a high-capacity cells, but you don't have any." "Actually, a trader just arrived a little while ago. He usually brings a few with him, to sell to the people in the town. I wish Icould go get a few, but if I leave the booth others will come by to steal power." "Speaking of that," said Has'la, "Why do you have so many VAWTs?" "The town and the Uranium mine need as much as we can give them. Solar isn't powerful enough, there's no Hydro around here, and my brother, his wife, and I don't have the skills needed to keep anything more complex running. We even have to ship the ore to Houston for refinement, as we don't have the power to refine it here, and if we ran a power line out here the bandits would just cut it." Has'la nodded. "In that case, I should get to town and see about buying one of those Ion charge cells. See you later." "Yeah, see ya." the man said as he walked away.</s> <\|message\|>Neptune Neptune strolled around the "street", looking at the small buildings that made up the settlement. He took note every day of the fact that this place could look better, but at the same time, the place looked better than many of the places he had seen out there. Plus, for as long as he had been here at least, there hadn't been hardly any conflict. The place showed signs of having relatively little recent battles. That either meant that this place was in a geographic sweet spot that made it undesirable or unnoticeable to the ill-willed people out there, ot they had een lucky. And luck only lasts so far. Neptune looked over at a pair of men hanging out in front of the bar. One of hem he recognized as a regular to the establishment, but the other guy he didn't know. The guy did give him a look that a criminal would have given a cop before the apocalypse. Neptune caught the look and decided to stop by and check things out. "Stan," he said with a nod. "I've told you time and time again, I hate when people shorten my name. It's Stanislaus," replied the man Neptune recognized. "Stan's just easier. I'm sure you understand, Stan. Who's your friend?" "He's no one. Just a passerby asking for directions." "I see... Well, good talking to you." Neptune said, walking away once more. The guy had either a problem with authority ir something he was trying to hide. Hopefully it is the former, but keeping an eye on a suspicious character gave him something to do. He decided not to go to far and wait.</s> <\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan It had been too long since she'd had a real rest. Her old Jeep Lightning was in desperate need of maintenance, although at this point calling it a Jeep anything was just nostalgia. Her Jeep had been rebuilt countless times and most of its parts were made from scrap metal and salvaged tech from wrecks. It was built to last but still always sounded like it was minutes from falling to pieces. Assorted panels of different alloys and materials were a testemant to it's patchwork assembly. Still it was hers and most lone salvagers didn't have their own vehicle. She cruised down the highway passing a charge station and a young human male on her way in to the city. Something about him caught her eye as she drove past. He looked to be close to his late twenties maybe thrity and by his gear she could tell that he was probably a salvager like her. Humans were good at adapting to change, it was something she envied about them. Most Azurians didn't see past their own caste and an unmarked low-born like T'Lora was just dust in the wind to the aristocrats back home. People on Earth looked at you differently. It didn't matter where you were born or what clan you happened to belong to here. Everyone was just trying to get by in their own way, even if that way meant preying on the weak. She passed a lot of houses on her way to the open market and even passed a bar. It wasn't anything special and was only noteworthy because it was the only building on the street that looked like an actual building instead of the rusted aluminum siding that most of the homes were made of. At least now she knew where to go when she wanted to get drunk.</s>	<\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) As Has'la approached the town, an old Jeep passed him, driven by an Azurian woman. She must be doing good for herself. he thought. Few people could afford a private vehicle. While the guy at the power station and the trader could afford them, they were much richer than the average townsperson. Judging by the cobbled-together nature of the vehicle, the alien woman was likely a skilled salvager, not one of the aliens that had come to Earth to fill the need for skilled workers. When he reached the town center about fifteen minutes later he found the trader that had driven by him. A few people were gathered round, looking at the merchandise he had brought with him, but the security guards made sure that none of them decided to pocket anything. Instead of looking at the goods on the table, Has'la walked up to the trader. "Excuse me, but do you have any high capacity ion charge cells?" he said. "Sorry, just sold my last one." "Well, then, do you have any ion fluid for them?" He asked. If you knew what you were doing, you could upgrade low-grade cells to double their capacity, but not increase their maximum charge or discharge rate. "I don't have any with me, but I do have some back at my shop. Ten liter minimum on a special order of it, though." "I can't use that much," said Has'la, "but I'm always coming across old, dead cells as salvage. Let me think about it. Can I get your contact code?" After getting the Trader's contact info, he thanked the man and went in search of the alien woman that had passed him. He passed a blue haired security guard that was watching two hoodlums in town. He didn't bother the man, though, as annoying a security guard while he was staking out criminals was a very bad idea. "Hi." he said, walking up to the alien woman, "nice Jeep. Looks like a per-apocalypse gas-burner that was refit with Lightning parts, possibly during the first ten years after it." For the first decade or so after the apocalypse, the single functional Jeep factory mostly worked on adapting the Lightning tech to newer and older tech, so that it could be used to refit old vessels with parts that would remain reverse compatible for centuries. He needed help and a vehicle if he was going to get to the salvage he had found, though. Even he wouldn't be able to cross such a hot zone on foot in time. "You look like a skilled salvager. I guess it's kind of unusual since you don't know me, but care to team up? I know where there's a fairly fresh Zathuran security patrol ship in a rad zone. With your vehicle and a few rad-resistance chems we could get inside the ship before getting badly irradiated. Once inside, we'll be able to pull more salvage than you've likely ever seen." True, it might be a bit stupid to tell a complete stranger about such a valuable find, but she didn't know where it was, and he really needed help and a vehicle if he was going to be able to salvage it. Maybe some extra muscle, too. Old, fresh, finds like that tended to have relatively intact automated security systems.</s>
<\|description\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) Age: 30 Appearance: Personality: Loves to learn more things constantly. A peaceful person, he prefers commerce and negotiation to battle, and will only fight another person in self defense. Skills: Engineering, computer use, electronics, physics Non-standard Abilities: Mutation: Radiation absorption: Metabolism feeds on Alpha, Beta, and Gamma radiation up to a certain level. If he absorbs too much, his radiation level will start to go down once he enters and low radiation area. This allows him to travel areas that would normally be dangerous for humans to be in. While metabolizing radiation cellular mitosis occurs faster, giving him up to a 5x healing rate. Bionic Implants: Computer interface: This implant can wirelessly access nearby computers and download data or control them. It allows perfect recall of any data stored on the device. It also stores his electronic currency behind a firewall so that it can't be stolen by run-of-the-mill thieves. Equipment: Dual Ion Rifle: Can switch between firing Negative Ions, which damage shields and electronics and stuns organic life, and Positive Ions, which heat up and burn targets, though it isn't as efficient at producing damage as a particle or laser weapon. Wrist-comp: A largely unnecessary computer on his forearm, he keeps it for its superior processing speed, Geiger counter, holo-projector, and long range communications array, essentially an overpowered cell phone. Backup power cells: Extra charges for his rifle or wristcomp. Sometimes used to bring derelict technology back to life. Personal shield generator: Found on a dead Slaver, it doesn't protect against many hits, especially from heavier guns, but it is enough to keep him from getting injured by a stray shot while diving for cover or moving between cover areas. Hyper-crystal necklace: Given to him as payment for repairing the reactor that almost killed him, he keeps it both for sentimental reasons and because it is both beautiful and valuable. The hypercrystal appears to contain a moving light within it, as the tachyons that enter it from hyperspace decay into photons when they enter our space-time continuum. Theoretically, the crystal could be used to power a hyperdrive, but he lacks the funds to build one. Bio: Shortly after birth, he was adopted by someone who could afford to properly raise a child on Earth, something which is fairly rare. Raised by a Zathuran engineer, Setta Feestra, who worked at a starport in one of the larger salvage cities by the name of Savannah, he studied science and technology from a young age. He left when he got old enough. His implant was a gift from his parent, and was manufactured on their homeworld. After leaving Savannah he traveled around, looking for a place where he could put his skills to work, earning a living by helping people. He learned of his mutation when a traveling wave reactor he was building for a city developed a radiation leak. He received a lethal dose of radiation and was expected to die, but over the next few days his radiation sickness went away, and his sores began to scab over. Within a week, he was reading as radiation free by the Geiger counters at the clinic. Since then he has made a decent living salvaging in lightly irradiated areas, as few people have tried salvaging them, and radiation suits and radiation treatment drugs are fairly expensive. Name: Zathuran (Zthu'rn) Homeworld: Zatha Specialization: Advanced tech, especially power, FTL, and scientific equipment. Appearance: Red, yellow, or sometimes Purple Humanoids. To the human eye they appear to have a mix of male and female features, such as male physique, but also having feminine facial features. They rarely have visible hair on their faces or heads, though what hair they do have is in shades of white, silver, or grey. Description: A race of hermaphrodites, they have a fairly diverse culture compared to many. The structure of their brains naturally makes it easier to understand advanced mathematics and physics, which has lead to many of them specializing in technology. In fact, their technology is the industry standard in the areas of hyperdrives and warp drives, as well as quantum singularity reactor technology. Their computer technology is also some of the best, as it has needed to be to do the calculations necessary for advanced physics research. Those that don't go into such fields often still enter a scientific field, causing a much larger than normal percent of their population to work in biology and the medical fields. They also have a rich culture of art, music, and philosophy which draw large numbers of their people into it. This uneven distribution of employment has lead to them seeking other races out to fill the jobs in their business which their own society cannot provide. Many also go to other worlds to seek better employment opportunities outside of the flooded employment market of their homeworld. At a young age all children are given a computer interface implant to aid in their education. Other races also purchase these implants from time to time, as they work with a variety of neural patterns as long as the proper firmware is installed on the chip.</s> <\|message\|>Neptune The sound of a running motor was hard to miss. Rolling down the road was a very rough looking vehicle. It almost looked homemade, and Neptune wouldn't have been surprised if it was considering the driver. An off-worlder whose blue skin color matched the shade of blue that was his natural hair color. He made note f this as he turned to see Stan and his partner had disappeared. He made note of the door that had just closed to the shop across the street, and walked over to see what was going on. Taking a peek into the bar to make sure they hadn't gone in there, he cracked open the door and poke his head in. No one had really noticed the door opening a little, and he was free to look without attention being drawn to him. A lot of drunkards in here, and even more people on there way to being drunk, he sighed. How could anyone drink their life away without ever having a desire to make a difference in the world? The answer eluded him and he shook his head after assuring his guys weren't in there. He closed the door and looked back at the shop across the street. Lo and behold, he could see through the window that two figures stood in front of the silhouette of a panicked clerk. Neptune's hunch was right, and before he could start running to the shop, the clerk dropped. It didn't take long after that for Neptune to bust through the doors of the shop. Stan and the stranger turned to see him without a weapon drawn, and made it a point to flash each of their shiny, sharp knives. Neptune calmly stood there without moving towards his weapons. "Put the weapons down and I'll go easy on you," he said, managing to only get a laugh out of the two men. Stan turned his knife upside down and held it by the blade, brought it back, and threw it at Neptune, who ducked out of the way of the blade hurtling towards his head. The two men charged at him, but now only one had a weapon. As the stranger brought his knife back to jab, Neptune stepped to the side, grabbed the strangers head, and slammed it against the wall, knocking him out cold in a single blow. Stan had enough time to land a blow on Neptune's jaw, but it didn't do too much, and Neptune quickly retaliated by grabbing Stan's arm as he went for the next punch, twisting it around behind his back, and pressing him firmly against the door. Helpless, he tried to shake free, but Neptune was stronger than he was and held him against the wall as he grabbed his other hand and held it behind his back. Using a zip tie- yeah, the town didn't have but one pair of handcuffs, and that set was in the possession of some other guard- he tied Stan's hands behind his back. He forced him to lay face first on the floor so he couldn't get up and run very quickly. Checking to see if the clerk was okay, Neptune walked around behind the counter. Luckily, he had only been punched as his only wound was a broken nose. He breathed a sigh of relief as he then thought about what to do with the two idiotic criminals.</s> <\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan After trading some scrap for a few fuses T'Lora opened the bonnet of her jeep and installed the new hardware. It wasn't a big job but it was necessary. Just as she finished she was approached by a human. "Hi." he said, walking up to the alien woman, "nice Jeep. Looks like a pre-apocalypse gas-burner that was refit with Lightning parts, possibly during the first ten years after it." "You've got a good eye, Human." "You look like a skilled salvager. I guess it's kind of unusual since you don't know me, but care to team up? I know where there's a fairly fresh Zathuran security patrol ship in a rad zone. With your vehicle and a few rad-resistance chems we could get inside the ship before getting badly irradiated. Once inside, we'll be able to pull more salvage than you've likely ever seen." "Straight to business. I like that." Most humans approached her for something other than work. Humans seemed to have a ridiculously active libido and always seemed like they were looking for potential mates. T'Lora sometimes used that to her advantage, she learned fairly early during her stay on Earth that if you made yourself more sexually appealing to humans they were more likely to be generous during trade offers although this time it didn't seem necessary. "More than I've ever seen, that's cute. I've been pulling wrecks since before you were born." Although that was true she said it jokingly. No need to sincerely insult the human, after all a security patrol ship was actually a decent find. "Getting past their security will be a pain though, it always is. Sounds good to me but we'll need a bit of muscle too. Assuming it's in good condition we'll need someone to carry the heavier equipment since Zathurans use fairly dense materials on their military ships."</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) "More than I've ever seen, that's cute. I've been pulling wrecks since before you were born." "Well, more in one place, maybe, not total. If it's as fresh as I hope, neither of us will have to worry about money for a while." "Getting past their security will be a pain though, it always is. Sounds good to me but we'll need a bit of muscle too. Assuming it's in good condition we'll need someone to carry the heavier equipment since Zathurans use fairly dense materials on their military ships." "True. And I doubt any of the exoskeletons are left in the cargo hold." Exoskeletons were valuable and in high demand due to the fact that they could roughly triple the amount you could lift. For that matter, they could triple the strength of your punch too. "As for some extra muscle, I'd look for an out of work security guard or caravan guard, maybe an anti-raider. There aren't many bounty hunters or mercs I'd trust on a job like this." Anti-raiders did to raiders and slavers what raiders and slavers did to normal people, and unlike bounty hunters, they didn't wait until enough people had been attacked or killed that the local law enforcment put a bounty out. Many raider camps had been slaughtered and looted by anti-raider parties. Because the anti-raiders didn't hurt non-outlaws, towns didn't mind having them around. "So, which one of us should go find one? We'll also need a trailer to haul stuff in. One of us will need to rent or buy one. And the Jeep will need a recharge, as the wreck is north of Houston and I don't want to risk running out of power out of power in a rad zone."</s> <\|message\|>Neptune Neptune stepped outside, knowing full well that the two individuals inside couldn't get out any way except through him. He waved a few guards and a wagon over to take away the captives. The wagon was for the wounded one. "Let's have these two put away for a bit. Alcohol may or may not have influenced their actions, and I want to find out." Neptune was fully aware of what happened to people who committed capital crimes, and if alcohol wasn't involved, they would definitely be let go with a simple ban from the bar. If not, well... The town couldn't afford to hold any prisoners for long, since there were only two rudimentarily put together cells. He just hoped that they were under the influence. Odd to think about at first, but at least they'd get a second chance. He began walking down the road again, whistling Yankee Doodle and hoping the rest of the day was calm.</s> <\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan "Qasan T'Lora..." She touched her right hand to her forehead and bowed slightly as is customary for her people. "...that all sounds like a good plan but I'm beat. I could use a rest and a good drink." She stretched her arms out and leaned back against her old jeep. Surely he wouldn't mind if they waited until the early morning. It was already getting late and a few hours rest would do her (and probably him too since he walked) a world of good. "Besides, if you want muscle in any town you start with the bar!" She smiled to herself, even if it was true she was still using it as an excuse to get drunk. It had been too long since T'Lora tasted a drop of anything other than recycled water and it was time to fix that. She started to climb back in the jeep. "Do you want to come along or should I just meet you somewhere?"</s>	<\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) "Sure." said Has'la. "Has'la Robinson." He held out his hand. "I've never really needed extra muscle for a job, but you seem to know better than me what to look for. I'll put a listing on the 'net, see if any ex security or caravan guards are looking, but I'll have them meet us in the bar at sundown. I'll meet you there as soon as I unload some junk and buy or rent a trailer for us. Shouldn't take long." After the conversation was over he walked into the general store she had just left and traded in the junk he had salvaged on the way for a few Valn. He then walked around the town until he found a trailer that met his needs. "Are you looking to sell?" he asked the old man who was unloading scrap steel from it. "Depends on how much you're offering." said the old man. "I still need the jeep, but I can borrow a trailer if I need one." After settling on a price, he arranged to pick it up tonight and went to the bar. There he found T'lora and sat down, ordering something to eat. "So, find anyone interesting yet?"</s>
<\|description\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) Age: 30 Appearance: Personality: Loves to learn more things constantly. A peaceful person, he prefers commerce and negotiation to battle, and will only fight another person in self defense. Skills: Engineering, computer use, electronics, physics Non-standard Abilities: Mutation: Radiation absorption: Metabolism feeds on Alpha, Beta, and Gamma radiation up to a certain level. If he absorbs too much, his radiation level will start to go down once he enters and low radiation area. This allows him to travel areas that would normally be dangerous for humans to be in. While metabolizing radiation cellular mitosis occurs faster, giving him up to a 5x healing rate. Bionic Implants: Computer interface: This implant can wirelessly access nearby computers and download data or control them. It allows perfect recall of any data stored on the device. It also stores his electronic currency behind a firewall so that it can't be stolen by run-of-the-mill thieves. Equipment: Dual Ion Rifle: Can switch between firing Negative Ions, which damage shields and electronics and stuns organic life, and Positive Ions, which heat up and burn targets, though it isn't as efficient at producing damage as a particle or laser weapon. Wrist-comp: A largely unnecessary computer on his forearm, he keeps it for its superior processing speed, Geiger counter, holo-projector, and long range communications array, essentially an overpowered cell phone. Backup power cells: Extra charges for his rifle or wristcomp. Sometimes used to bring derelict technology back to life. Personal shield generator: Found on a dead Slaver, it doesn't protect against many hits, especially from heavier guns, but it is enough to keep him from getting injured by a stray shot while diving for cover or moving between cover areas. Hyper-crystal necklace: Given to him as payment for repairing the reactor that almost killed him, he keeps it both for sentimental reasons and because it is both beautiful and valuable. The hypercrystal appears to contain a moving light within it, as the tachyons that enter it from hyperspace decay into photons when they enter our space-time continuum. Theoretically, the crystal could be used to power a hyperdrive, but he lacks the funds to build one. Bio: Shortly after birth, he was adopted by someone who could afford to properly raise a child on Earth, something which is fairly rare. Raised by a Zathuran engineer, Setta Feestra, who worked at a starport in one of the larger salvage cities by the name of Savannah, he studied science and technology from a young age. He left when he got old enough. His implant was a gift from his parent, and was manufactured on their homeworld. After leaving Savannah he traveled around, looking for a place where he could put his skills to work, earning a living by helping people. He learned of his mutation when a traveling wave reactor he was building for a city developed a radiation leak. He received a lethal dose of radiation and was expected to die, but over the next few days his radiation sickness went away, and his sores began to scab over. Within a week, he was reading as radiation free by the Geiger counters at the clinic. Since then he has made a decent living salvaging in lightly irradiated areas, as few people have tried salvaging them, and radiation suits and radiation treatment drugs are fairly expensive. Name: Zathuran (Zthu'rn) Homeworld: Zatha Specialization: Advanced tech, especially power, FTL, and scientific equipment. Appearance: Red, yellow, or sometimes Purple Humanoids. To the human eye they appear to have a mix of male and female features, such as male physique, but also having feminine facial features. They rarely have visible hair on their faces or heads, though what hair they do have is in shades of white, silver, or grey. Description: A race of hermaphrodites, they have a fairly diverse culture compared to many. The structure of their brains naturally makes it easier to understand advanced mathematics and physics, which has lead to many of them specializing in technology. In fact, their technology is the industry standard in the areas of hyperdrives and warp drives, as well as quantum singularity reactor technology. Their computer technology is also some of the best, as it has needed to be to do the calculations necessary for advanced physics research. Those that don't go into such fields often still enter a scientific field, causing a much larger than normal percent of their population to work in biology and the medical fields. They also have a rich culture of art, music, and philosophy which draw large numbers of their people into it. This uneven distribution of employment has lead to them seeking other races out to fill the jobs in their business which their own society cannot provide. Many also go to other worlds to seek better employment opportunities outside of the flooded employment market of their homeworld. At a young age all children are given a computer interface implant to aid in their education. Other races also purchase these implants from time to time, as they work with a variety of neural patterns as long as the proper firmware is installed on the chip.</s> <\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan T'Lora didn't waste any time getting drunk and by the time Has'la had caught up to her at the bar she was already halfway through her first bottle of tequila. Finding a mule for their upcoming salvage wouldn't be too hard. Looking across the room she could see plenty of strong young humans. "Take yur pick. Any o' these mules'll do." She was more concerned with her bottle at this point and paid no mind to the man trying to make a sale. If there was one thing T'Lora was good at, it was drinking.</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) As soon as Has'la sat down he could tell T'Lora was drunk. It didn't matter, though. She might have a bit of a hangover in the morning, but for the night there wasn't any reason not to drink once they were ready. "Take yur pick. Any o' these mules'll do." "For hauling the stuff, sure, but none of them look like the type to brave an automated security system, especially when they find out how small of a percentage they'll get for their troubles. Hopefully someone better will show up so that we don't have to hire one of them." The waitress, the Bartender's granddaughter he assumed, brought his food over. He had decided to have a decent meal for a change and had ordered the vegetable "beef" stew, some boiled peanuts (for extra protein, as he hadn't had much recently) and a bottle of soda. He ordered a bottle of Jack when she brought his food, then started to eat. Surprisingly, while the meat was likely dog or some wild mammal in the area, it contained real beef stock. Animal products, at least the farmed kind, were expensive and hard to come by. They had likely bought theirs from the farms near Dallas and had it shipped in. Pretty expensive, but then it was for their higher-end food, so the customers were willing to pay. Just as the waitress was leaving a man with a cybernetic eye walked up. "Hey there! You the guy looking for high-cap power cells?" "Depends on how much you're charging." he said. If they were new, they could go for as much as thirty Valn each. Good rebuilds would still go for fifteen or twenty Valn each. He looked at one and was surprised. Most of the "high grades" you came across were actually mid-grades, low-grades that were refilled with high-grade fluid. These were actual rebuilt high-grades, though. Which was a bit suspicious. The only reliable sources of high-grades were factories, none of which rebuilt them, and Raiders, who kept large numbers around for their weapons. "Nice cells," he said, "but I'm curious where they came from." The man didn't look like an anti-raider, and raiders had been known to send their more recent members into towns to resell stuff they'd taken from their raids. If a group was getting desperate, they might even try to sell surplus power cells. The cells might also be stolen from a shop in the area, most likely Houston. That would be almost as bad, though if he found out who they were stolen from he might arrange to return them for some sort of reward, maybe even a free cell or two.</s> <\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut "All refurbished," Harry answered honestly, "Picked 'em up out in the wastes, stripped 'em down and rebuilt them myself. Can't honestly say they'll run as good as new, but I'll stake my name on them being better quality than most you'll find in these parts." As he spoke Harry pulled his satchel around to show the stranger the pile he had inside, which just so happened to also nudge the stunner on his hip forward subtly, just in case the guy got any bright ideas. "Got twelve of 'em right now and could let them go at 200 for the set, or trade if you'd prefer." Harry let his eyes drift over to the man's companion, taking in the details as casually as he could so as not to offend her. She was a fine looking beast, the kind he might've tried for a tumble with had it not been for the obvious smell of liquor wafting from her direction. He'd learnt the hard way that a woman who took solace in the bottom of a bottle may be good for a night, but would be far less friendly once the booze's glow dimmed and the pounding headaches started. They also tended to be a little forgetful about little details in the heat of the moment, such as angry husbands, or in one memorable case an angry wife.</s> <\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan T'Lora listened carefully to the man's deal. He seemed fairly confident that her new friend would pay up 200 for his wares. She almost choked on her tequila when she let out a laugh mid-drink. "Those ain't wurt two hundo. You 'furbished 'em yurself so yur not coverin' cost of havin' some tech junkie fix 'em up fur you." She looked at Has'la. "Give 'im one fitty, that's fair." Satisfied with her response she returned to her glass half full of the fermented juice of desert agave fruit. Liquor was something she discovered on Earth since the castless weren't allowed to have liquor of any kind, instead given the simplest of ales made with very low quality fruits. T'Lora honestly couldn't care less about the power cells but she recognized the look he gave her when he walked up to them. Either he knew that she was casteless or he was one of those humans that dislikes foreigners on 'his' planet. Either way she knew that they wouldn't get along from the start. He was clearly good at his craft though, the power cells looked like they were thoroughly taken care of, or she was too drunk already to tell a good cell from a bad one.</s> <\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut With a sigh Harry loaded the power cells back into his pack and began to fasten it up. "Sorry, the price is two hundred, take it or leave it." He said shaking his head sadly, "This is high-grade equipment and if it's too expensive for you then I guess I'll have to take 'em elsewhere." He wasn't sure why he was even bothering to talk to the Blueberry, she was obviously too drunk to even understand him properly and for a moment he wondered why the trader would even bother to hang around with her. Then his gaze slipped down several inches and he realised exactly why. Looking back up at T'Lora's face with a knowing grin he turned to go, "Well, I guess I'll leave you two to your romantic evening. Hope you both enjoy yourselves."</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) He knew the guy's "I'm going to leave now" thing was just a show to get him to not ask further questions or haggle any more, but he didn't care. He could use those cells. "I don't have two hundred." said Has'la, telling the truth. After buying that trailer he had a grand total of 187.63 Valn left, and they still had to fill the jeep up before leaving. "But I'm leaving tomorrow to pull some salvage. When I get back I'll have plenty. Or, you could come with us. I'll need some extra muscle to protect us when we haul it back and in case there's any automated defenses left intact when we get there. I could also use the help moving the heavier stuff. You can come with us, help us out in that regard, and I'll pay you one hundred for your troubles. I'll even buy the cells off of you when we get back and I sale my salvage. What do you think?" He hoped the man would take the offer, as he didn't have much else to add to it.</s> <\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut Already half turned away from the table Harry paused. "Automated defenses?" He asked, intrigued. There were only a few places he knew of where those things were still operating after all these years and all of them were well worth the trip, if you could crack them. Lowering his pack to the floor Harry leant over the table as he looked into the stranger's eyes. He'd heard some people say you could tell whether someone was lying to you or not by looking into their eyes when they spoke, but he'd found looming over them with a glaring cybernetic eye loosened more tongues that blind faith. With his eyepiece whirring and clicking he quickly scanned the man, his readout picking out the wristcomp, shield generator and interesting bauble hanging round his neck. "I'll tell you what," He began, trying to sound offhand and disinterested, "I'll join your party and I'll even let you have the power cells for now. In exchange I want first claim on any off the automated defenses that we encounter, and you'll hand me that necklace of yours for insurance. If it turns out we don't find anything worthwhile then I keep the necklace and you pay me my 200, if we hit paydirt then you get the bauble back and we call it quits. "Of course, if you happen to not survive the trip, then I'll keep the keepsake, obviously." He finished with a friendly grin.</s>	<\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) "The necklace has too much value, sentimental and monetary, for me to even consider using it as collateral on something like this. I'll put up the hundred Valn and my shield generator, provided you let me wear it until we verify that there aren't any automated defenses before turning it over to you. If you get at least their value worth of salvage from the automated defenses, then you give them back. If not, you're up one hundred Valn and a working shield generator for, at most, two days worth of work. I doubt you'll get a better deal than that for protecting anyone else." True, he didn't have much to put up for collateral, but for most guard types that would be more than enough to hire them.</s>
<\|description\|>Neptune Age: 19 Appearance: Personality: Neptune is highly confident, to the point of being borderline cocky. He is mostly calm, and he is indifferent to fighting, as his skills revolve around it but yet he doesn't get his kicks from it. Skills: Master strategist/tactician, expert at CQC with his unique weapon, very observant. Non-standard Abilities: Healing factor with a strength that would heal deep gashes in roughly an hour. Equipment: Prototype weapon from before the apocalypse that has some dependency on being electrically powered, but its fuel cell has a long enough life to never have to worry about charging or replacing it. It is a gun that shoots a highly concentrated blast of energy which explodes on impact that can also transform into a guandao and a trident. It also features a compact form for convenience's sake. Guandao: Trident: Gun: Compact: Neptune also carries a standard combat knife in his boot and has a basic handgun for moments where he needs a gun fast. Bio: Neptune knows nothing if his early past. So little, in fact, that he not only never knew either of his parents, but never learned his own true name. He spent life as a nomad in the wasteland, going from town to town, working with a salvage team. Eventually, after looting a unique weapon from a derelict testing facility, people stopped calling him his old nickname, simply "Blue" or "Little Blue", and they started calling him Neptune as a reference to the trident form of the weapon he found. One settlement he had been in was expected to be attacked very soon. He decided to help plan for the defense, and at first no one took him seriously. Very soon, however, the others who were planning with him realized he had a natural instinct for planning for battles. With Neptune's plan, the town was safely defended from the small band of slavers that had come for it. After that small taste of glory, Neptune left the salvage group and moved to another town (after a few months of walking), unsure of where to go or what to do next.</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) Has'la walked down the road, traveling westward. He had left Houston the day before, and salvaged the few buildings that they came across. While most were picked clean, they did manage to find a storm cellar that most salvagers had missed. He had picked up a pair of boots, a few packs of cigarettes, and the like. It wasn't much, but it would buy them a room for the night and a hot meal. He stepped off of the road as a large truck drove by him. It was a pre-apocalyptic military truck by the looks of it, an old diesel vehicle. They weren't that rare, as suitable fuels were easy to produce. The truck was escorted by four Jeep Lightnings, all-electric vehicles with the classic Jeep military look. An hour later he saw the town on the horizon, with the hill overlooking it covered in Vertical Axis Wind Turbines. A few minutes later they came to a booth at the side of the road with a cable from the wind turbines running to it. A older model, and more worn Lightning was parked beside the booth. The booth was covered in charge cells, and a man sat behind it. "Excuse me, could I get some cells charged?" He laid a few depleted cells on the counter. "Sure," the man said, picking the cells up. He plugged them into a charging station and, a few seconds later, pulled them back out. "1.3 Valn." Has'la placed his wristcomp near the mans device and transferred the currency through it. The man used an Iphone 9 by the looks of it. An outdated piece of PA tech, but for transferring currency and simple communications it was sufficient. "Anything you like?" asked the man behind the booth, seeing Has'la looking over the cells on his stand. "Not really, I was hoping you would have a high-capacity cells, but you don't have any." "Actually, a trader just arrived a little while ago. He usually brings a few with him, to sell to the people in the town. I wish Icould go get a few, but if I leave the booth others will come by to steal power." "Speaking of that," said Has'la, "Why do you have so many VAWTs?" "The town and the Uranium mine need as much as we can give them. Solar isn't powerful enough, there's no Hydro around here, and my brother, his wife, and I don't have the skills needed to keep anything more complex running. We even have to ship the ore to Houston for refinement, as we don't have the power to refine it here, and if we ran a power line out here the bandits would just cut it." Has'la nodded. "In that case, I should get to town and see about buying one of those Ion charge cells. See you later." "Yeah, see ya." the man said as he walked away.</s> <\|message\|>Neptune Neptune strolled around the "street", looking at the small buildings that made up the settlement. He took note every day of the fact that this place could look better, but at the same time, the place looked better than many of the places he had seen out there. Plus, for as long as he had been here at least, there hadn't been hardly any conflict. The place showed signs of having relatively little recent battles. That either meant that this place was in a geographic sweet spot that made it undesirable or unnoticeable to the ill-willed people out there, ot they had een lucky. And luck only lasts so far. Neptune looked over at a pair of men hanging out in front of the bar. One of hem he recognized as a regular to the establishment, but the other guy he didn't know. The guy did give him a look that a criminal would have given a cop before the apocalypse. Neptune caught the look and decided to stop by and check things out. "Stan," he said with a nod. "I've told you time and time again, I hate when people shorten my name. It's Stanislaus," replied the man Neptune recognized. "Stan's just easier. I'm sure you understand, Stan. Who's your friend?" "He's no one. Just a passerby asking for directions." "I see... Well, good talking to you." Neptune said, walking away once more. The guy had either a problem with authority ir something he was trying to hide. Hopefully it is the former, but keeping an eye on a suspicious character gave him something to do. He decided not to go to far and wait.</s> <\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan It had been too long since she'd had a real rest. Her old Jeep Lightning was in desperate need of maintenance, although at this point calling it a Jeep anything was just nostalgia. Her Jeep had been rebuilt countless times and most of its parts were made from scrap metal and salvaged tech from wrecks. It was built to last but still always sounded like it was minutes from falling to pieces. Assorted panels of different alloys and materials were a testemant to it's patchwork assembly. Still it was hers and most lone salvagers didn't have their own vehicle. She cruised down the highway passing a charge station and a young human male on her way in to the city. Something about him caught her eye as she drove past. He looked to be close to his late twenties maybe thrity and by his gear she could tell that he was probably a salvager like her. Humans were good at adapting to change, it was something she envied about them. Most Azurians didn't see past their own caste and an unmarked low-born like T'Lora was just dust in the wind to the aristocrats back home. People on Earth looked at you differently. It didn't matter where you were born or what clan you happened to belong to here. Everyone was just trying to get by in their own way, even if that way meant preying on the weak. She passed a lot of houses on her way to the open market and even passed a bar. It wasn't anything special and was only noteworthy because it was the only building on the street that looked like an actual building instead of the rusted aluminum siding that most of the homes were made of. At least now she knew where to go when she wanted to get drunk.</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) As Has'la approached the town, an old Jeep passed him, driven by an Azurian woman. She must be doing good for herself. he thought. Few people could afford a private vehicle. While the guy at the power station and the trader could afford them, they were much richer than the average townsperson. Judging by the cobbled-together nature of the vehicle, the alien woman was likely a skilled salvager, not one of the aliens that had come to Earth to fill the need for skilled workers. When he reached the town center about fifteen minutes later he found the trader that had driven by him. A few people were gathered round, looking at the merchandise he had brought with him, but the security guards made sure that none of them decided to pocket anything. Instead of looking at the goods on the table, Has'la walked up to the trader. "Excuse me, but do you have any high capacity ion charge cells?" he said. "Sorry, just sold my last one." "Well, then, do you have any ion fluid for them?" He asked. If you knew what you were doing, you could upgrade low-grade cells to double their capacity, but not increase their maximum charge or discharge rate. "I don't have any with me, but I do have some back at my shop. Ten liter minimum on a special order of it, though." "I can't use that much," said Has'la, "but I'm always coming across old, dead cells as salvage. Let me think about it. Can I get your contact code?" After getting the Trader's contact info, he thanked the man and went in search of the alien woman that had passed him. He passed a blue haired security guard that was watching two hoodlums in town. He didn't bother the man, though, as annoying a security guard while he was staking out criminals was a very bad idea. "Hi." he said, walking up to the alien woman, "nice Jeep. Looks like a per-apocalypse gas-burner that was refit with Lightning parts, possibly during the first ten years after it." For the first decade or so after the apocalypse, the single functional Jeep factory mostly worked on adapting the Lightning tech to newer and older tech, so that it could be used to refit old vessels with parts that would remain reverse compatible for centuries. He needed help and a vehicle if he was going to get to the salvage he had found, though. Even he wouldn't be able to cross such a hot zone on foot in time. "You look like a skilled salvager. I guess it's kind of unusual since you don't know me, but care to team up? I know where there's a fairly fresh Zathuran security patrol ship in a rad zone. With your vehicle and a few rad-resistance chems we could get inside the ship before getting badly irradiated. Once inside, we'll be able to pull more salvage than you've likely ever seen." True, it might be a bit stupid to tell a complete stranger about such a valuable find, but she didn't know where it was, and he really needed help and a vehicle if he was going to be able to salvage it. Maybe some extra muscle, too. Old, fresh, finds like that tended to have relatively intact automated security systems.</s>	<\|message\|>Neptune The sound of a running motor was hard to miss. Rolling down the road was a very rough looking vehicle. It almost looked homemade, and Neptune wouldn't have been surprised if it was considering the driver. An off-worlder whose blue skin color matched the shade of blue that was his natural hair color. He made note f this as he turned to see Stan and his partner had disappeared. He made note of the door that had just closed to the shop across the street, and walked over to see what was going on. Taking a peek into the bar to make sure they hadn't gone in there, he cracked open the door and poke his head in. No one had really noticed the door opening a little, and he was free to look without attention being drawn to him. A lot of drunkards in here, and even more people on there way to being drunk, he sighed. How could anyone drink their life away without ever having a desire to make a difference in the world? The answer eluded him and he shook his head after assuring his guys weren't in there. He closed the door and looked back at the shop across the street. Lo and behold, he could see through the window that two figures stood in front of the silhouette of a panicked clerk. Neptune's hunch was right, and before he could start running to the shop, the clerk dropped. It didn't take long after that for Neptune to bust through the doors of the shop. Stan and the stranger turned to see him without a weapon drawn, and made it a point to flash each of their shiny, sharp knives. Neptune calmly stood there without moving towards his weapons. "Put the weapons down and I'll go easy on you," he said, managing to only get a laugh out of the two men. Stan turned his knife upside down and held it by the blade, brought it back, and threw it at Neptune, who ducked out of the way of the blade hurtling towards his head. The two men charged at him, but now only one had a weapon. As the stranger brought his knife back to jab, Neptune stepped to the side, grabbed the strangers head, and slammed it against the wall, knocking him out cold in a single blow. Stan had enough time to land a blow on Neptune's jaw, but it didn't do too much, and Neptune quickly retaliated by grabbing Stan's arm as he went for the next punch, twisting it around behind his back, and pressing him firmly against the door. Helpless, he tried to shake free, but Neptune was stronger than he was and held him against the wall as he grabbed his other hand and held it behind his back. Using a zip tie- yeah, the town didn't have but one pair of handcuffs, and that set was in the possession of some other guard- he tied Stan's hands behind his back. He forced him to lay face first on the floor so he couldn't get up and run very quickly. Checking to see if the clerk was okay, Neptune walked around behind the counter. Luckily, he had only been punched as his only wound was a broken nose. He breathed a sigh of relief as he then thought about what to do with the two idiotic criminals.</s>
<\|description\|>Neptune Age: 19 Appearance: Personality: Neptune is highly confident, to the point of being borderline cocky. He is mostly calm, and he is indifferent to fighting, as his skills revolve around it but yet he doesn't get his kicks from it. Skills: Master strategist/tactician, expert at CQC with his unique weapon, very observant. Non-standard Abilities: Healing factor with a strength that would heal deep gashes in roughly an hour. Equipment: Prototype weapon from before the apocalypse that has some dependency on being electrically powered, but its fuel cell has a long enough life to never have to worry about charging or replacing it. It is a gun that shoots a highly concentrated blast of energy which explodes on impact that can also transform into a guandao and a trident. It also features a compact form for convenience's sake. Guandao: Trident: Gun: Compact: Neptune also carries a standard combat knife in his boot and has a basic handgun for moments where he needs a gun fast. Bio: Neptune knows nothing if his early past. So little, in fact, that he not only never knew either of his parents, but never learned his own true name. He spent life as a nomad in the wasteland, going from town to town, working with a salvage team. Eventually, after looting a unique weapon from a derelict testing facility, people stopped calling him his old nickname, simply "Blue" or "Little Blue", and they started calling him Neptune as a reference to the trident form of the weapon he found. One settlement he had been in was expected to be attacked very soon. He decided to help plan for the defense, and at first no one took him seriously. Very soon, however, the others who were planning with him realized he had a natural instinct for planning for battles. With Neptune's plan, the town was safely defended from the small band of slavers that had come for it. After that small taste of glory, Neptune left the salvage group and moved to another town (after a few months of walking), unsure of where to go or what to do next.</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) "More than I've ever seen, that's cute. I've been pulling wrecks since before you were born." "Well, more in one place, maybe, not total. If it's as fresh as I hope, neither of us will have to worry about money for a while." "Getting past their security will be a pain though, it always is. Sounds good to me but we'll need a bit of muscle too. Assuming it's in good condition we'll need someone to carry the heavier equipment since Zathurans use fairly dense materials on their military ships." "True. And I doubt any of the exoskeletons are left in the cargo hold." Exoskeletons were valuable and in high demand due to the fact that they could roughly triple the amount you could lift. For that matter, they could triple the strength of your punch too. "As for some extra muscle, I'd look for an out of work security guard or caravan guard, maybe an anti-raider. There aren't many bounty hunters or mercs I'd trust on a job like this." Anti-raiders did to raiders and slavers what raiders and slavers did to normal people, and unlike bounty hunters, they didn't wait until enough people had been attacked or killed that the local law enforcment put a bounty out. Many raider camps had been slaughtered and looted by anti-raider parties. Because the anti-raiders didn't hurt non-outlaws, towns didn't mind having them around. "So, which one of us should go find one? We'll also need a trailer to haul stuff in. One of us will need to rent or buy one. And the Jeep will need a recharge, as the wreck is north of Houston and I don't want to risk running out of power out of power in a rad zone."</s> <\|message\|>Neptune Neptune stepped outside, knowing full well that the two individuals inside couldn't get out any way except through him. He waved a few guards and a wagon over to take away the captives. The wagon was for the wounded one. "Let's have these two put away for a bit. Alcohol may or may not have influenced their actions, and I want to find out." Neptune was fully aware of what happened to people who committed capital crimes, and if alcohol wasn't involved, they would definitely be let go with a simple ban from the bar. If not, well... The town couldn't afford to hold any prisoners for long, since there were only two rudimentarily put together cells. He just hoped that they were under the influence. Odd to think about at first, but at least they'd get a second chance. He began walking down the road again, whistling Yankee Doodle and hoping the rest of the day was calm.</s> <\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan "Qasan T'Lora..." She touched her right hand to her forehead and bowed slightly as is customary for her people. "...that all sounds like a good plan but I'm beat. I could use a rest and a good drink." She stretched her arms out and leaned back against her old jeep. Surely he wouldn't mind if they waited until the early morning. It was already getting late and a few hours rest would do her (and probably him too since he walked) a world of good. "Besides, if you want muscle in any town you start with the bar!" She smiled to herself, even if it was true she was still using it as an excuse to get drunk. It had been too long since T'Lora tasted a drop of anything other than recycled water and it was time to fix that. She started to climb back in the jeep. "Do you want to come along or should I just meet you somewhere?"</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) "Sure." said Has'la. "Has'la Robinson." He held out his hand. "I've never really needed extra muscle for a job, but you seem to know better than me what to look for. I'll put a listing on the 'net, see if any ex security or caravan guards are looking, but I'll have them meet us in the bar at sundown. I'll meet you there as soon as I unload some junk and buy or rent a trailer for us. Shouldn't take long." After the conversation was over he walked into the general store she had just left and traded in the junk he had salvaged on the way for a few Valn. He then walked around the town until he found a trailer that met his needs. "Are you looking to sell?" he asked the old man who was unloading scrap steel from it. "Depends on how much you're offering." said the old man. "I still need the jeep, but I can borrow a trailer if I need one." After settling on a price, he arranged to pick it up tonight and went to the bar. There he found T'lora and sat down, ordering something to eat. "So, find anyone interesting yet?"</s> <\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut The light was dimming and the Radcycle grumbled between Harry's legs as he crested the last hill and looked down over the town in the distance. It didn't look like much this far out, a cluster of prefab dwellings with a couple of more permanent structures at the heart of the town, most likely the bank and the jail if he guessed right. Not that he cared that much, there wouldn't be many in a town this far out from the central cities that'd be interested in the wares he had to offer. Turning the handlebars Harry kicked the bike up into high gear, heading for the cluster of turbines scattered further along the rise. It always paid off to make an entrance in small settlements like this, especially when your guns were clearly holstered at your side. Not that Harry intended to threaten them in any way, but the sight of the longarm often helped get a good price for some of his scrap, if only to ensure he left quickly without having to draw the weapon. Pulling up beside the sales booth Harry kicked the cycle into parking before hauling himself up out of the saddle. He'd been driving for the better part of three days and his legs were still tingling from the constant vibrations the bike's electric engine gave off as it ran. Taking a moment to rub some lift back into his tired muscles Harry reached down and tightened the exo-brace which helped keep his leg together, or at least that's the impression it gave. In truth his legs were just as good, if not better, than most human's his age. He'd been told that was part of the genetic inheritance he'd gained from his father's side of the family, not that he'd ever bothered to ask exactly what that meant. Moving to the back of his vehicle Harry quickly yanked a large satchel up onto his shoulder before reaching down with both hands and hauling an old engine block up from the storage compartment. With an over-acted shuffle he quickly made his way over to the counter, waiting a moment as the attendant cleared some space for him before setting the heavy piece of machinery down. "There you go Simon," Harry said smugly, "One Lightning engine, as promised." "You're a wonder Harry," The attendant replied warmly, rising up from his seat to examine his new prize with obvious excitement. His eyes lit up a moment later as he stroked his hands down the side of the micro-element manifold. "Damn... flawless manifold, almost all shock plugs still intact... where'd you find this?" Harry shook his head with a smile, "You know better than to ask things like that Simon. All I can say is that there's no previous owner likely to come looking for it." With that Harry pulled a battered old tablet from his satchel and with a swipe of his finger brought up his financial management program. "Now, as for business..?" "No problem," Simon said, his iPhone already in hand as he tapped in the credit transfer. A moment later Harry nodded happily as the payment registered on his pad. "Got something else for you too, prime grade power cells." Pulling the satchel mouth wider Harry let Simon take a peak at the high-capacity cells piled inside, each gleaming as if they'd only just come off of the assembly line. In truth they were all refurbished and drained, but with as little charging they'd work just as good as they looked. Simon shook his head sadly. "I'd love to take them from you Harry, but business ain't too good right now and this has wiped out my readies. Best I can do is point you to a fella in town, he was in a earlier today looking for high-cap cells and had the look of someone who'd be looking to settle for the night. If you're lucky he might still be looking to trade." "Yeah?" Harry said, tucking his tablet back in the pouch as he glanced down the road towards the town. "He look good for the money?" "He was wearing a fancy wrist-comp and said he was gonna be buying an ion charge cell, so he'll have some scratch to play with. Best hurry though, might not want to buy if you leave it too long." Harry smiled, a customer with ready cash, always a good thing for a scavenger. "Thanks for the tip. See ya soon." With that Harry turned back to the Radcycle, stowing the power cells in back before kicking the engine into life. Moment later he was speeding down the roadway into the town, heading for the town centre. As he pulled up he spotted the sparse crowd clustered around the old truck belonging to a trader he'd dealt with a few times in the past, not always with a mutually agreeable outcome. Turning away from the market Harry made his way towards the bar with his satchel hanging down at his side. Stepping through the door he could see the usually evening crowd clustered at their usual tables. In one corner a card game of some sort had started up and already several knick-knacks and gadgets were resting piled in the middle of the table. A quick glance told him the gadgets were all low-quality junk, including a couple of pieces he recognised as his own finds from a few weeks earlier. Turning away he was about to head back out the door when he spotted a rough looking man sitting with a Blueberry off to one side. He didn't recognise either of them, but the man's wrist-comp was distinctive. 'What the hell,' He thought to himself, 'It's worth a shot at least.' Lifting his arm in the air with a friendly wave, which also gave everyone a good view of the custom stunner hanging from his belt, just in case, Harry called out to the man as he stepped up towards the table. "Hey there! You the guy looking for high-cap power cells?"</s>	<\|message\|>Neptune Neptune sighed. As the night drew closer, he found himself getting hungry. There weren't many places he could eat while he was in duty, but the bar offered a deal where guards could eat for free as long as they stepped in and helped in any confrontation that occurred while they were there. He decided he'd save a penny and eat there, knowing full well what the conditions were. He stepped into the bar, immediately recognizing the people within. Mostly potential troublemakers, but a few were not. Namely the two who were to soon begin a conversation. "High-cap power cells?..." Neptune muttered under his breath. A bit if a high goal to strive for, if he knew anything about power, which he did. He watched the man who spoke up out of the corner of his eye, in case an underhanded trade was in the works here in the bar. It wouldn't be surprising, considering that the bar is where the root of most of Neptune's problems arose. "What c'n I do ya fer" the bartender said, snapping Neptune out of his trance. An older fellow who was missing most of his teeth. Neptune didn't blame the guy for his manner of speech, considering this. "What do you have in stock as far as meals go, Sherm?" "Jus' gotta box fulla country fried steaks. Still good, ta. Surprising, ain't it?" "Never had one before. If you're right about them still being good, I'll take that then. With some potatoes." "Comin' up!" "Thank you." Neptune looked around again, waiting to see if anything was going to happen. He couldn't help but feel as if he needed to get to know some people, but he moved from settlement to settlement so much that he just didn't bother anymore.</s>
<\|description\|>T'Lora Qasan Age: 84 Personality: Observant and thoughtful. She values her wits over strength and her years on Earth have taught her to be resourceful and think on her feet. Generally avoids confrontation unless there is no alternative. Skills: Speaks Azurian, Zathuran, and English Piloting Driving Expert Azurian Tech Knowledge Moderate Zathuran & Human Tech Knowledge Superb Reflexes Non-standard Abilities: Temperatures under freezing are deadly Can hear supersonic and subsonic noise Equipment: Jul'Taya- an Azurain self-defense weapon barely bigger than your hand, it's compact size makes it a favorite among Azurian pilots. It fires a concentrated electromagnetic pulse strong enough to disrupt technological systems or knock out attackers, hitting someone repeatedly can be deadly. Engineering toolkit- although her expertise is in piloting she's picked up enough over the years to know how to fix just about anything. Bio: T'Lora was born on Azura in the southern hemisphere. Once she reached maturity at the age of 25 she started learning how to pilot aircraft and later moved up to spacecraft. About fifty years ago T'Lora volunteered to join a relief effort on a distant planet known as Earth. The planet itself had been scarred by catastrophe but she found that Humans were adaptable beings and made the best of their crippled world. T'Lora did her part shuttling supplies down to fledgling settlements. Just as there are good and bad Azurains there are good and bad Humans however, this was a lesson she learned quickly when her shuttle was commandeered by marauding Humans and Zathurans eager to get off the planet. T'Lora was left behind as she watched her shuttle being blown out of the sky for attacking the mother ship. Unfortunately she was also presumed dead and her low birth meant that no one in particular would miss her. T'Lora was forced to make Earth her new home. Even a scarred and mutated planet has it's own charm, although the winter months could be especially brutal in some places. Despite the circumstances that brought her here she doesn't really dislike Earth or Humans at all and finds herself wandering from town to town simply for the sake of traveling. Given the chance she would fly back to the endless sea of stars to explore even more new places. Species: Azurian (Az'Riann) Homeworld: Azura (Az'Ra) Specialization: Advanced Medical Science, Biology, Appearance: Description: Although Azurians are technically asexual they are typically referred to as an 'all female' species due to their physical and anatomical similarities to Human women. Their average life-span is roughly 500 years. Originating from a volcanically active planet with small island continents, Azurians prefer warm and humid climates. It's not uncommon to see them bundled up in layers during forty degree weather. Azurains aren't too common on Earth but there are a decent number of them in the larger population centers.</s> <\|message\|>Neptune Neptune strolled around the "street", looking at the small buildings that made up the settlement. He took note every day of the fact that this place could look better, but at the same time, the place looked better than many of the places he had seen out there. Plus, for as long as he had been here at least, there hadn't been hardly any conflict. The place showed signs of having relatively little recent battles. That either meant that this place was in a geographic sweet spot that made it undesirable or unnoticeable to the ill-willed people out there, ot they had een lucky. And luck only lasts so far. Neptune looked over at a pair of men hanging out in front of the bar. One of hem he recognized as a regular to the establishment, but the other guy he didn't know. The guy did give him a look that a criminal would have given a cop before the apocalypse. Neptune caught the look and decided to stop by and check things out. "Stan," he said with a nod. "I've told you time and time again, I hate when people shorten my name. It's Stanislaus," replied the man Neptune recognized. "Stan's just easier. I'm sure you understand, Stan. Who's your friend?" "He's no one. Just a passerby asking for directions." "I see... Well, good talking to you." Neptune said, walking away once more. The guy had either a problem with authority ir something he was trying to hide. Hopefully it is the former, but keeping an eye on a suspicious character gave him something to do. He decided not to go to far and wait.</s> <\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan It had been too long since she'd had a real rest. Her old Jeep Lightning was in desperate need of maintenance, although at this point calling it a Jeep anything was just nostalgia. Her Jeep had been rebuilt countless times and most of its parts were made from scrap metal and salvaged tech from wrecks. It was built to last but still always sounded like it was minutes from falling to pieces. Assorted panels of different alloys and materials were a testemant to it's patchwork assembly. Still it was hers and most lone salvagers didn't have their own vehicle. She cruised down the highway passing a charge station and a young human male on her way in to the city. Something about him caught her eye as she drove past. He looked to be close to his late twenties maybe thrity and by his gear she could tell that he was probably a salvager like her. Humans were good at adapting to change, it was something she envied about them. Most Azurians didn't see past their own caste and an unmarked low-born like T'Lora was just dust in the wind to the aristocrats back home. People on Earth looked at you differently. It didn't matter where you were born or what clan you happened to belong to here. Everyone was just trying to get by in their own way, even if that way meant preying on the weak. She passed a lot of houses on her way to the open market and even passed a bar. It wasn't anything special and was only noteworthy because it was the only building on the street that looked like an actual building instead of the rusted aluminum siding that most of the homes were made of. At least now she knew where to go when she wanted to get drunk.</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) As Has'la approached the town, an old Jeep passed him, driven by an Azurian woman. She must be doing good for herself. he thought. Few people could afford a private vehicle. While the guy at the power station and the trader could afford them, they were much richer than the average townsperson. Judging by the cobbled-together nature of the vehicle, the alien woman was likely a skilled salvager, not one of the aliens that had come to Earth to fill the need for skilled workers. When he reached the town center about fifteen minutes later he found the trader that had driven by him. A few people were gathered round, looking at the merchandise he had brought with him, but the security guards made sure that none of them decided to pocket anything. Instead of looking at the goods on the table, Has'la walked up to the trader. "Excuse me, but do you have any high capacity ion charge cells?" he said. "Sorry, just sold my last one." "Well, then, do you have any ion fluid for them?" He asked. If you knew what you were doing, you could upgrade low-grade cells to double their capacity, but not increase their maximum charge or discharge rate. "I don't have any with me, but I do have some back at my shop. Ten liter minimum on a special order of it, though." "I can't use that much," said Has'la, "but I'm always coming across old, dead cells as salvage. Let me think about it. Can I get your contact code?" After getting the Trader's contact info, he thanked the man and went in search of the alien woman that had passed him. He passed a blue haired security guard that was watching two hoodlums in town. He didn't bother the man, though, as annoying a security guard while he was staking out criminals was a very bad idea. "Hi." he said, walking up to the alien woman, "nice Jeep. Looks like a per-apocalypse gas-burner that was refit with Lightning parts, possibly during the first ten years after it." For the first decade or so after the apocalypse, the single functional Jeep factory mostly worked on adapting the Lightning tech to newer and older tech, so that it could be used to refit old vessels with parts that would remain reverse compatible for centuries. He needed help and a vehicle if he was going to get to the salvage he had found, though. Even he wouldn't be able to cross such a hot zone on foot in time. "You look like a skilled salvager. I guess it's kind of unusual since you don't know me, but care to team up? I know where there's a fairly fresh Zathuran security patrol ship in a rad zone. With your vehicle and a few rad-resistance chems we could get inside the ship before getting badly irradiated. Once inside, we'll be able to pull more salvage than you've likely ever seen." True, it might be a bit stupid to tell a complete stranger about such a valuable find, but she didn't know where it was, and he really needed help and a vehicle if he was going to be able to salvage it. Maybe some extra muscle, too. Old, fresh, finds like that tended to have relatively intact automated security systems.</s> <\|message\|>Neptune The sound of a running motor was hard to miss. Rolling down the road was a very rough looking vehicle. It almost looked homemade, and Neptune wouldn't have been surprised if it was considering the driver. An off-worlder whose blue skin color matched the shade of blue that was his natural hair color. He made note f this as he turned to see Stan and his partner had disappeared. He made note of the door that had just closed to the shop across the street, and walked over to see what was going on. Taking a peek into the bar to make sure they hadn't gone in there, he cracked open the door and poke his head in. No one had really noticed the door opening a little, and he was free to look without attention being drawn to him. A lot of drunkards in here, and even more people on there way to being drunk, he sighed. How could anyone drink their life away without ever having a desire to make a difference in the world? The answer eluded him and he shook his head after assuring his guys weren't in there. He closed the door and looked back at the shop across the street. Lo and behold, he could see through the window that two figures stood in front of the silhouette of a panicked clerk. Neptune's hunch was right, and before he could start running to the shop, the clerk dropped. It didn't take long after that for Neptune to bust through the doors of the shop. Stan and the stranger turned to see him without a weapon drawn, and made it a point to flash each of their shiny, sharp knives. Neptune calmly stood there without moving towards his weapons. "Put the weapons down and I'll go easy on you," he said, managing to only get a laugh out of the two men. Stan turned his knife upside down and held it by the blade, brought it back, and threw it at Neptune, who ducked out of the way of the blade hurtling towards his head. The two men charged at him, but now only one had a weapon. As the stranger brought his knife back to jab, Neptune stepped to the side, grabbed the strangers head, and slammed it against the wall, knocking him out cold in a single blow. Stan had enough time to land a blow on Neptune's jaw, but it didn't do too much, and Neptune quickly retaliated by grabbing Stan's arm as he went for the next punch, twisting it around behind his back, and pressing him firmly against the door. Helpless, he tried to shake free, but Neptune was stronger than he was and held him against the wall as he grabbed his other hand and held it behind his back. Using a zip tie- yeah, the town didn't have but one pair of handcuffs, and that set was in the possession of some other guard- he tied Stan's hands behind his back. He forced him to lay face first on the floor so he couldn't get up and run very quickly. Checking to see if the clerk was okay, Neptune walked around behind the counter. Luckily, he had only been punched as his only wound was a broken nose. He breathed a sigh of relief as he then thought about what to do with the two idiotic criminals.</s>	<\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan After trading some scrap for a few fuses T'Lora opened the bonnet of her jeep and installed the new hardware. It wasn't a big job but it was necessary. Just as she finished she was approached by a human. "Hi." he said, walking up to the alien woman, "nice Jeep. Looks like a pre-apocalypse gas-burner that was refit with Lightning parts, possibly during the first ten years after it." "You've got a good eye, Human." "You look like a skilled salvager. I guess it's kind of unusual since you don't know me, but care to team up? I know where there's a fairly fresh Zathuran security patrol ship in a rad zone. With your vehicle and a few rad-resistance chems we could get inside the ship before getting badly irradiated. Once inside, we'll be able to pull more salvage than you've likely ever seen." "Straight to business. I like that." Most humans approached her for something other than work. Humans seemed to have a ridiculously active libido and always seemed like they were looking for potential mates. T'Lora sometimes used that to her advantage, she learned fairly early during her stay on Earth that if you made yourself more sexually appealing to humans they were more likely to be generous during trade offers although this time it didn't seem necessary. "More than I've ever seen, that's cute. I've been pulling wrecks since before you were born." Although that was true she said it jokingly. No need to sincerely insult the human, after all a security patrol ship was actually a decent find. "Getting past their security will be a pain though, it always is. Sounds good to me but we'll need a bit of muscle too. Assuming it's in good condition we'll need someone to carry the heavier equipment since Zathurans use fairly dense materials on their military ships."</s>
<\|description\|>T'Lora Qasan Age: 84 Personality: Observant and thoughtful. She values her wits over strength and her years on Earth have taught her to be resourceful and think on her feet. Generally avoids confrontation unless there is no alternative. Skills: Speaks Azurian, Zathuran, and English Piloting Driving Expert Azurian Tech Knowledge Moderate Zathuran & Human Tech Knowledge Superb Reflexes Non-standard Abilities: Temperatures under freezing are deadly Can hear supersonic and subsonic noise Equipment: Jul'Taya- an Azurain self-defense weapon barely bigger than your hand, it's compact size makes it a favorite among Azurian pilots. It fires a concentrated electromagnetic pulse strong enough to disrupt technological systems or knock out attackers, hitting someone repeatedly can be deadly. Engineering toolkit- although her expertise is in piloting she's picked up enough over the years to know how to fix just about anything. Bio: T'Lora was born on Azura in the southern hemisphere. Once she reached maturity at the age of 25 she started learning how to pilot aircraft and later moved up to spacecraft. About fifty years ago T'Lora volunteered to join a relief effort on a distant planet known as Earth. The planet itself had been scarred by catastrophe but she found that Humans were adaptable beings and made the best of their crippled world. T'Lora did her part shuttling supplies down to fledgling settlements. Just as there are good and bad Azurains there are good and bad Humans however, this was a lesson she learned quickly when her shuttle was commandeered by marauding Humans and Zathurans eager to get off the planet. T'Lora was left behind as she watched her shuttle being blown out of the sky for attacking the mother ship. Unfortunately she was also presumed dead and her low birth meant that no one in particular would miss her. T'Lora was forced to make Earth her new home. Even a scarred and mutated planet has it's own charm, although the winter months could be especially brutal in some places. Despite the circumstances that brought her here she doesn't really dislike Earth or Humans at all and finds herself wandering from town to town simply for the sake of traveling. Given the chance she would fly back to the endless sea of stars to explore even more new places. Species: Azurian (Az'Riann) Homeworld: Azura (Az'Ra) Specialization: Advanced Medical Science, Biology, Appearance: Description: Although Azurians are technically asexual they are typically referred to as an 'all female' species due to their physical and anatomical similarities to Human women. Their average life-span is roughly 500 years. Originating from a volcanically active planet with small island continents, Azurians prefer warm and humid climates. It's not uncommon to see them bundled up in layers during forty degree weather. Azurains aren't too common on Earth but there are a decent number of them in the larger population centers.</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) "More than I've ever seen, that's cute. I've been pulling wrecks since before you were born." "Well, more in one place, maybe, not total. If it's as fresh as I hope, neither of us will have to worry about money for a while." "Getting past their security will be a pain though, it always is. Sounds good to me but we'll need a bit of muscle too. Assuming it's in good condition we'll need someone to carry the heavier equipment since Zathurans use fairly dense materials on their military ships." "True. And I doubt any of the exoskeletons are left in the cargo hold." Exoskeletons were valuable and in high demand due to the fact that they could roughly triple the amount you could lift. For that matter, they could triple the strength of your punch too. "As for some extra muscle, I'd look for an out of work security guard or caravan guard, maybe an anti-raider. There aren't many bounty hunters or mercs I'd trust on a job like this." Anti-raiders did to raiders and slavers what raiders and slavers did to normal people, and unlike bounty hunters, they didn't wait until enough people had been attacked or killed that the local law enforcment put a bounty out. Many raider camps had been slaughtered and looted by anti-raider parties. Because the anti-raiders didn't hurt non-outlaws, towns didn't mind having them around. "So, which one of us should go find one? We'll also need a trailer to haul stuff in. One of us will need to rent or buy one. And the Jeep will need a recharge, as the wreck is north of Houston and I don't want to risk running out of power out of power in a rad zone."</s> <\|message\|>Neptune Neptune stepped outside, knowing full well that the two individuals inside couldn't get out any way except through him. He waved a few guards and a wagon over to take away the captives. The wagon was for the wounded one. "Let's have these two put away for a bit. Alcohol may or may not have influenced their actions, and I want to find out." Neptune was fully aware of what happened to people who committed capital crimes, and if alcohol wasn't involved, they would definitely be let go with a simple ban from the bar. If not, well... The town couldn't afford to hold any prisoners for long, since there were only two rudimentarily put together cells. He just hoped that they were under the influence. Odd to think about at first, but at least they'd get a second chance. He began walking down the road again, whistling Yankee Doodle and hoping the rest of the day was calm.</s> <\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan "Qasan T'Lora..." She touched her right hand to her forehead and bowed slightly as is customary for her people. "...that all sounds like a good plan but I'm beat. I could use a rest and a good drink." She stretched her arms out and leaned back against her old jeep. Surely he wouldn't mind if they waited until the early morning. It was already getting late and a few hours rest would do her (and probably him too since he walked) a world of good. "Besides, if you want muscle in any town you start with the bar!" She smiled to herself, even if it was true she was still using it as an excuse to get drunk. It had been too long since T'Lora tasted a drop of anything other than recycled water and it was time to fix that. She started to climb back in the jeep. "Do you want to come along or should I just meet you somewhere?"</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) "Sure." said Has'la. "Has'la Robinson." He held out his hand. "I've never really needed extra muscle for a job, but you seem to know better than me what to look for. I'll put a listing on the 'net, see if any ex security or caravan guards are looking, but I'll have them meet us in the bar at sundown. I'll meet you there as soon as I unload some junk and buy or rent a trailer for us. Shouldn't take long." After the conversation was over he walked into the general store she had just left and traded in the junk he had salvaged on the way for a few Valn. He then walked around the town until he found a trailer that met his needs. "Are you looking to sell?" he asked the old man who was unloading scrap steel from it. "Depends on how much you're offering." said the old man. "I still need the jeep, but I can borrow a trailer if I need one." After settling on a price, he arranged to pick it up tonight and went to the bar. There he found T'lora and sat down, ordering something to eat. "So, find anyone interesting yet?"</s> <\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut The light was dimming and the Radcycle grumbled between Harry's legs as he crested the last hill and looked down over the town in the distance. It didn't look like much this far out, a cluster of prefab dwellings with a couple of more permanent structures at the heart of the town, most likely the bank and the jail if he guessed right. Not that he cared that much, there wouldn't be many in a town this far out from the central cities that'd be interested in the wares he had to offer. Turning the handlebars Harry kicked the bike up into high gear, heading for the cluster of turbines scattered further along the rise. It always paid off to make an entrance in small settlements like this, especially when your guns were clearly holstered at your side. Not that Harry intended to threaten them in any way, but the sight of the longarm often helped get a good price for some of his scrap, if only to ensure he left quickly without having to draw the weapon. Pulling up beside the sales booth Harry kicked the cycle into parking before hauling himself up out of the saddle. He'd been driving for the better part of three days and his legs were still tingling from the constant vibrations the bike's electric engine gave off as it ran. Taking a moment to rub some lift back into his tired muscles Harry reached down and tightened the exo-brace which helped keep his leg together, or at least that's the impression it gave. In truth his legs were just as good, if not better, than most human's his age. He'd been told that was part of the genetic inheritance he'd gained from his father's side of the family, not that he'd ever bothered to ask exactly what that meant. Moving to the back of his vehicle Harry quickly yanked a large satchel up onto his shoulder before reaching down with both hands and hauling an old engine block up from the storage compartment. With an over-acted shuffle he quickly made his way over to the counter, waiting a moment as the attendant cleared some space for him before setting the heavy piece of machinery down. "There you go Simon," Harry said smugly, "One Lightning engine, as promised." "You're a wonder Harry," The attendant replied warmly, rising up from his seat to examine his new prize with obvious excitement. His eyes lit up a moment later as he stroked his hands down the side of the micro-element manifold. "Damn... flawless manifold, almost all shock plugs still intact... where'd you find this?" Harry shook his head with a smile, "You know better than to ask things like that Simon. All I can say is that there's no previous owner likely to come looking for it." With that Harry pulled a battered old tablet from his satchel and with a swipe of his finger brought up his financial management program. "Now, as for business..?" "No problem," Simon said, his iPhone already in hand as he tapped in the credit transfer. A moment later Harry nodded happily as the payment registered on his pad. "Got something else for you too, prime grade power cells." Pulling the satchel mouth wider Harry let Simon take a peak at the high-capacity cells piled inside, each gleaming as if they'd only just come off of the assembly line. In truth they were all refurbished and drained, but with as little charging they'd work just as good as they looked. Simon shook his head sadly. "I'd love to take them from you Harry, but business ain't too good right now and this has wiped out my readies. Best I can do is point you to a fella in town, he was in a earlier today looking for high-cap cells and had the look of someone who'd be looking to settle for the night. If you're lucky he might still be looking to trade." "Yeah?" Harry said, tucking his tablet back in the pouch as he glanced down the road towards the town. "He look good for the money?" "He was wearing a fancy wrist-comp and said he was gonna be buying an ion charge cell, so he'll have some scratch to play with. Best hurry though, might not want to buy if you leave it too long." Harry smiled, a customer with ready cash, always a good thing for a scavenger. "Thanks for the tip. See ya soon." With that Harry turned back to the Radcycle, stowing the power cells in back before kicking the engine into life. Moment later he was speeding down the roadway into the town, heading for the town centre. As he pulled up he spotted the sparse crowd clustered around the old truck belonging to a trader he'd dealt with a few times in the past, not always with a mutually agreeable outcome. Turning away from the market Harry made his way towards the bar with his satchel hanging down at his side. Stepping through the door he could see the usually evening crowd clustered at their usual tables. In one corner a card game of some sort had started up and already several knick-knacks and gadgets were resting piled in the middle of the table. A quick glance told him the gadgets were all low-quality junk, including a couple of pieces he recognised as his own finds from a few weeks earlier. Turning away he was about to head back out the door when he spotted a rough looking man sitting with a Blueberry off to one side. He didn't recognise either of them, but the man's wrist-comp was distinctive. 'What the hell,' He thought to himself, 'It's worth a shot at least.' Lifting his arm in the air with a friendly wave, which also gave everyone a good view of the custom stunner hanging from his belt, just in case, Harry called out to the man as he stepped up towards the table. "Hey there! You the guy looking for high-cap power cells?"</s> <\|message\|>Neptune Neptune sighed. As the night drew closer, he found himself getting hungry. There weren't many places he could eat while he was in duty, but the bar offered a deal where guards could eat for free as long as they stepped in and helped in any confrontation that occurred while they were there. He decided he'd save a penny and eat there, knowing full well what the conditions were. He stepped into the bar, immediately recognizing the people within. Mostly potential troublemakers, but a few were not. Namely the two who were to soon begin a conversation. "High-cap power cells?..." Neptune muttered under his breath. A bit if a high goal to strive for, if he knew anything about power, which he did. He watched the man who spoke up out of the corner of his eye, in case an underhanded trade was in the works here in the bar. It wouldn't be surprising, considering that the bar is where the root of most of Neptune's problems arose. "What c'n I do ya fer" the bartender said, snapping Neptune out of his trance. An older fellow who was missing most of his teeth. Neptune didn't blame the guy for his manner of speech, considering this. "What do you have in stock as far as meals go, Sherm?" "Jus' gotta box fulla country fried steaks. Still good, ta. Surprising, ain't it?" "Never had one before. If you're right about them still being good, I'll take that then. With some potatoes." "Comin' up!" "Thank you." Neptune looked around again, waiting to see if anything was going to happen. He couldn't help but feel as if he needed to get to know some people, but he moved from settlement to settlement so much that he just didn't bother anymore.</s>	<\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan T'Lora didn't waste any time getting drunk and by the time Has'la had caught up to her at the bar she was already halfway through her first bottle of tequila. Finding a mule for their upcoming salvage wouldn't be too hard. Looking across the room she could see plenty of strong young humans. "Take yur pick. Any o' these mules'll do." She was more concerned with her bottle at this point and paid no mind to the man trying to make a sale. If there was one thing T'Lora was good at, it was drinking.</s>
<\|description\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut Age: 27 (?) Appearance: Personality: A rugged and gruff man, Harry much prefers to spend time tinkering with his latest find or tuning up his cycle than chatting with others. Dedicated and fiercely loyal Harry's always one of the first to step in and break up a fight, especially when he thinks someone's unfairly outnumbered or outclassed. Skills: Mechanical engineering and maintenance, expert off-road motorcycle rider, skilled tracker and outdoorsman, experienced sniper and pistol marksman Non-standard Abilities: Bionic Implants: Cybernetic Eye: Harry has never revealed exactly what his eye lets him see and the best anyone's ever gotten him to admit is that it's considerably better than his old organic one. Observers have noted that he seems to be able to see through walls and have deduced that the eye has some level of backscatter x-ray detection along with enhanced night vision and thermal detection. Equipment: Rail Rifle: A heavily modified longarm sniper rifle whose barrel has been modified with electromagnetic charge coils which launch small metallic objects, commonly nails, at its target with high accuracy at extreme ranges. Sue to the long charge time for each shot (approximately 1.7 seconds) the Rail Rifle is best used as a sniper rifle, where plenty of time can be taken to line up the perfect shot. Little Nelly: A custom built blaster pistol which fires concentrated bursts of densely packed negatively charged ions which can overload most electrical systems, including most biological nervous systems, with a single blaster. Charge time on the pistol (0.8 seconds) makes it best for single shot use, but it can be switched to autofire mode with considerable loss of power with each shot. Radcycle: Custom built all-terrain single seat vehicle with short-range VTOL hover unit. The Radcycle was built from spare parts, salvage and 'acquired' technology by Harry over the course of many years and he's usually found making adjustments and refinements to its design whenever he has a free moment. While the cycle mainly uses its dual wheels for propulsion it is also fitted with an anti-grav coil which is usually used to lower the vehicle's mass, increasing its cruising speed and allowing for easier handling over rough terrain. In a pinch the coil can be overcharged to allow the bike to perform impressive jumps and even fly for short distances, although Harry would be the first to admit the reliability of the flight systems makes driving a much safer option in most circumstances. 'Wrench': Harry almost always wears a power generator backpack with a multitool attachment on an extending arm. He mostly uses this when repairing and maintaining his equipment and occasionally seems to argue with the device as though it were a living thing, but this may just be an anthropomorphisation of his tools. The backpack also contains a long-range scanner capable of detecting most known unshielded power sources upto a kilometer away, along with valuable metals and other technological items. 'Tablet': Seeing the need for data exchange, information management and gaming apps Harry built himself a simple but effective portable computer. Fitted with numerous data interfaces the Tablet can access most known network protocols and data feeds, along with acting as a messaging and extranet terminal. When not in use Harry normally carries the Tablet in a custom made carrying pouch slung over his shoulder, or just in whatever bag or satchel he happens to be carrying at the time. Bio: As Harry rarely speaks of his past in any great detail no-one's exactly sure where he's originally from. Although he appears to be human at times he's mentioned a mixed race heritage, although whether this was merely in jest has yet to be confirmed. What is known is that at a young age Harry found himself alone in the world, force to scavenge for food and supplies. Early on he discovered a knack with mechanical devices which would serve him well over the years. Constantly on the move, Harry has adapted well to a nomadic lifestyle, learning how to live off the land and hunt for food, as well as how to survive the sometimes harsh wasteland conditions he travels through. At some point one of his inventions would've literally blown up in his face, requiring him to have his left eye replaced with a cybernetic implant. Exactly where and when this had been done is something he doesn't like to talk about much, but then again he doesn't like to talk about anything very much, apart from technology. Quote: "I ran out of red wires so I just used green for everything. That won't be a problem, right?"</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) "More than I've ever seen, that's cute. I've been pulling wrecks since before you were born." "Well, more in one place, maybe, not total. If it's as fresh as I hope, neither of us will have to worry about money for a while." "Getting past their security will be a pain though, it always is. Sounds good to me but we'll need a bit of muscle too. Assuming it's in good condition we'll need someone to carry the heavier equipment since Zathurans use fairly dense materials on their military ships." "True. And I doubt any of the exoskeletons are left in the cargo hold." Exoskeletons were valuable and in high demand due to the fact that they could roughly triple the amount you could lift. For that matter, they could triple the strength of your punch too. "As for some extra muscle, I'd look for an out of work security guard or caravan guard, maybe an anti-raider. There aren't many bounty hunters or mercs I'd trust on a job like this." Anti-raiders did to raiders and slavers what raiders and slavers did to normal people, and unlike bounty hunters, they didn't wait until enough people had been attacked or killed that the local law enforcment put a bounty out. Many raider camps had been slaughtered and looted by anti-raider parties. Because the anti-raiders didn't hurt non-outlaws, towns didn't mind having them around. "So, which one of us should go find one? We'll also need a trailer to haul stuff in. One of us will need to rent or buy one. And the Jeep will need a recharge, as the wreck is north of Houston and I don't want to risk running out of power out of power in a rad zone."</s> <\|message\|>Neptune Neptune stepped outside, knowing full well that the two individuals inside couldn't get out any way except through him. He waved a few guards and a wagon over to take away the captives. The wagon was for the wounded one. "Let's have these two put away for a bit. Alcohol may or may not have influenced their actions, and I want to find out." Neptune was fully aware of what happened to people who committed capital crimes, and if alcohol wasn't involved, they would definitely be let go with a simple ban from the bar. If not, well... The town couldn't afford to hold any prisoners for long, since there were only two rudimentarily put together cells. He just hoped that they were under the influence. Odd to think about at first, but at least they'd get a second chance. He began walking down the road again, whistling Yankee Doodle and hoping the rest of the day was calm.</s> <\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan "Qasan T'Lora..." She touched her right hand to her forehead and bowed slightly as is customary for her people. "...that all sounds like a good plan but I'm beat. I could use a rest and a good drink." She stretched her arms out and leaned back against her old jeep. Surely he wouldn't mind if they waited until the early morning. It was already getting late and a few hours rest would do her (and probably him too since he walked) a world of good. "Besides, if you want muscle in any town you start with the bar!" She smiled to herself, even if it was true she was still using it as an excuse to get drunk. It had been too long since T'Lora tasted a drop of anything other than recycled water and it was time to fix that. She started to climb back in the jeep. "Do you want to come along or should I just meet you somewhere?"</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) "Sure." said Has'la. "Has'la Robinson." He held out his hand. "I've never really needed extra muscle for a job, but you seem to know better than me what to look for. I'll put a listing on the 'net, see if any ex security or caravan guards are looking, but I'll have them meet us in the bar at sundown. I'll meet you there as soon as I unload some junk and buy or rent a trailer for us. Shouldn't take long." After the conversation was over he walked into the general store she had just left and traded in the junk he had salvaged on the way for a few Valn. He then walked around the town until he found a trailer that met his needs. "Are you looking to sell?" he asked the old man who was unloading scrap steel from it. "Depends on how much you're offering." said the old man. "I still need the jeep, but I can borrow a trailer if I need one." After settling on a price, he arranged to pick it up tonight and went to the bar. There he found T'lora and sat down, ordering something to eat. "So, find anyone interesting yet?"</s>	<\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut The light was dimming and the Radcycle grumbled between Harry's legs as he crested the last hill and looked down over the town in the distance. It didn't look like much this far out, a cluster of prefab dwellings with a couple of more permanent structures at the heart of the town, most likely the bank and the jail if he guessed right. Not that he cared that much, there wouldn't be many in a town this far out from the central cities that'd be interested in the wares he had to offer. Turning the handlebars Harry kicked the bike up into high gear, heading for the cluster of turbines scattered further along the rise. It always paid off to make an entrance in small settlements like this, especially when your guns were clearly holstered at your side. Not that Harry intended to threaten them in any way, but the sight of the longarm often helped get a good price for some of his scrap, if only to ensure he left quickly without having to draw the weapon. Pulling up beside the sales booth Harry kicked the cycle into parking before hauling himself up out of the saddle. He'd been driving for the better part of three days and his legs were still tingling from the constant vibrations the bike's electric engine gave off as it ran. Taking a moment to rub some lift back into his tired muscles Harry reached down and tightened the exo-brace which helped keep his leg together, or at least that's the impression it gave. In truth his legs were just as good, if not better, than most human's his age. He'd been told that was part of the genetic inheritance he'd gained from his father's side of the family, not that he'd ever bothered to ask exactly what that meant. Moving to the back of his vehicle Harry quickly yanked a large satchel up onto his shoulder before reaching down with both hands and hauling an old engine block up from the storage compartment. With an over-acted shuffle he quickly made his way over to the counter, waiting a moment as the attendant cleared some space for him before setting the heavy piece of machinery down. "There you go Simon," Harry said smugly, "One Lightning engine, as promised." "You're a wonder Harry," The attendant replied warmly, rising up from his seat to examine his new prize with obvious excitement. His eyes lit up a moment later as he stroked his hands down the side of the micro-element manifold. "Damn... flawless manifold, almost all shock plugs still intact... where'd you find this?" Harry shook his head with a smile, "You know better than to ask things like that Simon. All I can say is that there's no previous owner likely to come looking for it." With that Harry pulled a battered old tablet from his satchel and with a swipe of his finger brought up his financial management program. "Now, as for business..?" "No problem," Simon said, his iPhone already in hand as he tapped in the credit transfer. A moment later Harry nodded happily as the payment registered on his pad. "Got something else for you too, prime grade power cells." Pulling the satchel mouth wider Harry let Simon take a peak at the high-capacity cells piled inside, each gleaming as if they'd only just come off of the assembly line. In truth they were all refurbished and drained, but with as little charging they'd work just as good as they looked. Simon shook his head sadly. "I'd love to take them from you Harry, but business ain't too good right now and this has wiped out my readies. Best I can do is point you to a fella in town, he was in a earlier today looking for high-cap cells and had the look of someone who'd be looking to settle for the night. If you're lucky he might still be looking to trade." "Yeah?" Harry said, tucking his tablet back in the pouch as he glanced down the road towards the town. "He look good for the money?" "He was wearing a fancy wrist-comp and said he was gonna be buying an ion charge cell, so he'll have some scratch to play with. Best hurry though, might not want to buy if you leave it too long." Harry smiled, a customer with ready cash, always a good thing for a scavenger. "Thanks for the tip. See ya soon." With that Harry turned back to the Radcycle, stowing the power cells in back before kicking the engine into life. Moment later he was speeding down the roadway into the town, heading for the town centre. As he pulled up he spotted the sparse crowd clustered around the old truck belonging to a trader he'd dealt with a few times in the past, not always with a mutually agreeable outcome. Turning away from the market Harry made his way towards the bar with his satchel hanging down at his side. Stepping through the door he could see the usually evening crowd clustered at their usual tables. In one corner a card game of some sort had started up and already several knick-knacks and gadgets were resting piled in the middle of the table. A quick glance told him the gadgets were all low-quality junk, including a couple of pieces he recognised as his own finds from a few weeks earlier. Turning away he was about to head back out the door when he spotted a rough looking man sitting with a Blueberry off to one side. He didn't recognise either of them, but the man's wrist-comp was distinctive. 'What the hell,' He thought to himself, 'It's worth a shot at least.' Lifting his arm in the air with a friendly wave, which also gave everyone a good view of the custom stunner hanging from his belt, just in case, Harry called out to the man as he stepped up towards the table. "Hey there! You the guy looking for high-cap power cells?"</s>
<\|description\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut Age: 27 (?) Appearance: Personality: A rugged and gruff man, Harry much prefers to spend time tinkering with his latest find or tuning up his cycle than chatting with others. Dedicated and fiercely loyal Harry's always one of the first to step in and break up a fight, especially when he thinks someone's unfairly outnumbered or outclassed. Skills: Mechanical engineering and maintenance, expert off-road motorcycle rider, skilled tracker and outdoorsman, experienced sniper and pistol marksman Non-standard Abilities: Bionic Implants: Cybernetic Eye: Harry has never revealed exactly what his eye lets him see and the best anyone's ever gotten him to admit is that it's considerably better than his old organic one. Observers have noted that he seems to be able to see through walls and have deduced that the eye has some level of backscatter x-ray detection along with enhanced night vision and thermal detection. Equipment: Rail Rifle: A heavily modified longarm sniper rifle whose barrel has been modified with electromagnetic charge coils which launch small metallic objects, commonly nails, at its target with high accuracy at extreme ranges. Sue to the long charge time for each shot (approximately 1.7 seconds) the Rail Rifle is best used as a sniper rifle, where plenty of time can be taken to line up the perfect shot. Little Nelly: A custom built blaster pistol which fires concentrated bursts of densely packed negatively charged ions which can overload most electrical systems, including most biological nervous systems, with a single blaster. Charge time on the pistol (0.8 seconds) makes it best for single shot use, but it can be switched to autofire mode with considerable loss of power with each shot. Radcycle: Custom built all-terrain single seat vehicle with short-range VTOL hover unit. The Radcycle was built from spare parts, salvage and 'acquired' technology by Harry over the course of many years and he's usually found making adjustments and refinements to its design whenever he has a free moment. While the cycle mainly uses its dual wheels for propulsion it is also fitted with an anti-grav coil which is usually used to lower the vehicle's mass, increasing its cruising speed and allowing for easier handling over rough terrain. In a pinch the coil can be overcharged to allow the bike to perform impressive jumps and even fly for short distances, although Harry would be the first to admit the reliability of the flight systems makes driving a much safer option in most circumstances. 'Wrench': Harry almost always wears a power generator backpack with a multitool attachment on an extending arm. He mostly uses this when repairing and maintaining his equipment and occasionally seems to argue with the device as though it were a living thing, but this may just be an anthropomorphisation of his tools. The backpack also contains a long-range scanner capable of detecting most known unshielded power sources upto a kilometer away, along with valuable metals and other technological items. 'Tablet': Seeing the need for data exchange, information management and gaming apps Harry built himself a simple but effective portable computer. Fitted with numerous data interfaces the Tablet can access most known network protocols and data feeds, along with acting as a messaging and extranet terminal. When not in use Harry normally carries the Tablet in a custom made carrying pouch slung over his shoulder, or just in whatever bag or satchel he happens to be carrying at the time. Bio: As Harry rarely speaks of his past in any great detail no-one's exactly sure where he's originally from. Although he appears to be human at times he's mentioned a mixed race heritage, although whether this was merely in jest has yet to be confirmed. What is known is that at a young age Harry found himself alone in the world, force to scavenge for food and supplies. Early on he discovered a knack with mechanical devices which would serve him well over the years. Constantly on the move, Harry has adapted well to a nomadic lifestyle, learning how to live off the land and hunt for food, as well as how to survive the sometimes harsh wasteland conditions he travels through. At some point one of his inventions would've literally blown up in his face, requiring him to have his left eye replaced with a cybernetic implant. Exactly where and when this had been done is something he doesn't like to talk about much, but then again he doesn't like to talk about anything very much, apart from technology. Quote: "I ran out of red wires so I just used green for everything. That won't be a problem, right?"</s> <\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan T'Lora didn't waste any time getting drunk and by the time Has'la had caught up to her at the bar she was already halfway through her first bottle of tequila. Finding a mule for their upcoming salvage wouldn't be too hard. Looking across the room she could see plenty of strong young humans. "Take yur pick. Any o' these mules'll do." She was more concerned with her bottle at this point and paid no mind to the man trying to make a sale. If there was one thing T'Lora was good at, it was drinking.</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) As soon as Has'la sat down he could tell T'Lora was drunk. It didn't matter, though. She might have a bit of a hangover in the morning, but for the night there wasn't any reason not to drink once they were ready. "Take yur pick. Any o' these mules'll do." "For hauling the stuff, sure, but none of them look like the type to brave an automated security system, especially when they find out how small of a percentage they'll get for their troubles. Hopefully someone better will show up so that we don't have to hire one of them." The waitress, the Bartender's granddaughter he assumed, brought his food over. He had decided to have a decent meal for a change and had ordered the vegetable "beef" stew, some boiled peanuts (for extra protein, as he hadn't had much recently) and a bottle of soda. He ordered a bottle of Jack when she brought his food, then started to eat. Surprisingly, while the meat was likely dog or some wild mammal in the area, it contained real beef stock. Animal products, at least the farmed kind, were expensive and hard to come by. They had likely bought theirs from the farms near Dallas and had it shipped in. Pretty expensive, but then it was for their higher-end food, so the customers were willing to pay. Just as the waitress was leaving a man with a cybernetic eye walked up. "Hey there! You the guy looking for high-cap power cells?" "Depends on how much you're charging." he said. If they were new, they could go for as much as thirty Valn each. Good rebuilds would still go for fifteen or twenty Valn each. He looked at one and was surprised. Most of the "high grades" you came across were actually mid-grades, low-grades that were refilled with high-grade fluid. These were actual rebuilt high-grades, though. Which was a bit suspicious. The only reliable sources of high-grades were factories, none of which rebuilt them, and Raiders, who kept large numbers around for their weapons. "Nice cells," he said, "but I'm curious where they came from." The man didn't look like an anti-raider, and raiders had been known to send their more recent members into towns to resell stuff they'd taken from their raids. If a group was getting desperate, they might even try to sell surplus power cells. The cells might also be stolen from a shop in the area, most likely Houston. That would be almost as bad, though if he found out who they were stolen from he might arrange to return them for some sort of reward, maybe even a free cell or two.</s> <\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut "All refurbished," Harry answered honestly, "Picked 'em up out in the wastes, stripped 'em down and rebuilt them myself. Can't honestly say they'll run as good as new, but I'll stake my name on them being better quality than most you'll find in these parts." As he spoke Harry pulled his satchel around to show the stranger the pile he had inside, which just so happened to also nudge the stunner on his hip forward subtly, just in case the guy got any bright ideas. "Got twelve of 'em right now and could let them go at 200 for the set, or trade if you'd prefer." Harry let his eyes drift over to the man's companion, taking in the details as casually as he could so as not to offend her. She was a fine looking beast, the kind he might've tried for a tumble with had it not been for the obvious smell of liquor wafting from her direction. He'd learnt the hard way that a woman who took solace in the bottom of a bottle may be good for a night, but would be far less friendly once the booze's glow dimmed and the pounding headaches started. They also tended to be a little forgetful about little details in the heat of the moment, such as angry husbands, or in one memorable case an angry wife.</s> <\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan T'Lora listened carefully to the man's deal. He seemed fairly confident that her new friend would pay up 200 for his wares. She almost choked on her tequila when she let out a laugh mid-drink. "Those ain't wurt two hundo. You 'furbished 'em yurself so yur not coverin' cost of havin' some tech junkie fix 'em up fur you." She looked at Has'la. "Give 'im one fitty, that's fair." Satisfied with her response she returned to her glass half full of the fermented juice of desert agave fruit. Liquor was something she discovered on Earth since the castless weren't allowed to have liquor of any kind, instead given the simplest of ales made with very low quality fruits. T'Lora honestly couldn't care less about the power cells but she recognized the look he gave her when he walked up to them. Either he knew that she was casteless or he was one of those humans that dislikes foreigners on 'his' planet. Either way she knew that they wouldn't get along from the start. He was clearly good at his craft though, the power cells looked like they were thoroughly taken care of, or she was too drunk already to tell a good cell from a bad one.</s> <\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut With a sigh Harry loaded the power cells back into his pack and began to fasten it up. "Sorry, the price is two hundred, take it or leave it." He said shaking his head sadly, "This is high-grade equipment and if it's too expensive for you then I guess I'll have to take 'em elsewhere." He wasn't sure why he was even bothering to talk to the Blueberry, she was obviously too drunk to even understand him properly and for a moment he wondered why the trader would even bother to hang around with her. Then his gaze slipped down several inches and he realised exactly why. Looking back up at T'Lora's face with a knowing grin he turned to go, "Well, I guess I'll leave you two to your romantic evening. Hope you both enjoy yourselves."</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) He knew the guy's "I'm going to leave now" thing was just a show to get him to not ask further questions or haggle any more, but he didn't care. He could use those cells. "I don't have two hundred." said Has'la, telling the truth. After buying that trailer he had a grand total of 187.63 Valn left, and they still had to fill the jeep up before leaving. "But I'm leaving tomorrow to pull some salvage. When I get back I'll have plenty. Or, you could come with us. I'll need some extra muscle to protect us when we haul it back and in case there's any automated defenses left intact when we get there. I could also use the help moving the heavier stuff. You can come with us, help us out in that regard, and I'll pay you one hundred for your troubles. I'll even buy the cells off of you when we get back and I sale my salvage. What do you think?" He hoped the man would take the offer, as he didn't have much else to add to it.</s> <\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut Already half turned away from the table Harry paused. "Automated defenses?" He asked, intrigued. There were only a few places he knew of where those things were still operating after all these years and all of them were well worth the trip, if you could crack them. Lowering his pack to the floor Harry leant over the table as he looked into the stranger's eyes. He'd heard some people say you could tell whether someone was lying to you or not by looking into their eyes when they spoke, but he'd found looming over them with a glaring cybernetic eye loosened more tongues that blind faith. With his eyepiece whirring and clicking he quickly scanned the man, his readout picking out the wristcomp, shield generator and interesting bauble hanging round his neck. "I'll tell you what," He began, trying to sound offhand and disinterested, "I'll join your party and I'll even let you have the power cells for now. In exchange I want first claim on any off the automated defenses that we encounter, and you'll hand me that necklace of yours for insurance. If it turns out we don't find anything worthwhile then I keep the necklace and you pay me my 200, if we hit paydirt then you get the bauble back and we call it quits. "Of course, if you happen to not survive the trip, then I'll keep the keepsake, obviously." He finished with a friendly grin.</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) "The necklace has too much value, sentimental and monetary, for me to even consider using it as collateral on something like this. I'll put up the hundred Valn and my shield generator, provided you let me wear it until we verify that there aren't any automated defenses before turning it over to you. If you get at least their value worth of salvage from the automated defenses, then you give them back. If not, you're up one hundred Valn and a working shield generator for, at most, two days worth of work. I doubt you'll get a better deal than that for protecting anyone else." True, he didn't have much to put up for collateral, but for most guard types that would be more than enough to hire them.</s>	<\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut Harry rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment. His interest was really in the control boards he might be able to salvage from the automated defenses, and if there turned out not to be any then his trip would've been wasted. It reflected well on the stranger that he knew the value of the hyper-crystals hanging around his neck though, so the guy probably knew what he was talking about with the defenses. "How about a compromise?" Harry said, smiling at the stranger if a friendly manner, "You pay the hundred up front and if we don't find any decent salvage I get the shield generator, as you said, but you also agree in front of the lovely lady here that I get first call on the necklace should anything happen to you. And just so you know there's no foul play intended on my part I agree that you'll be the first to recover any of my gear should I not be needing it anymore."</s>
<\|description\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut Age: 27 (?) Appearance: Personality: A rugged and gruff man, Harry much prefers to spend time tinkering with his latest find or tuning up his cycle than chatting with others. Dedicated and fiercely loyal Harry's always one of the first to step in and break up a fight, especially when he thinks someone's unfairly outnumbered or outclassed. Skills: Mechanical engineering and maintenance, expert off-road motorcycle rider, skilled tracker and outdoorsman, experienced sniper and pistol marksman Non-standard Abilities: Bionic Implants: Cybernetic Eye: Harry has never revealed exactly what his eye lets him see and the best anyone's ever gotten him to admit is that it's considerably better than his old organic one. Observers have noted that he seems to be able to see through walls and have deduced that the eye has some level of backscatter x-ray detection along with enhanced night vision and thermal detection. Equipment: Rail Rifle: A heavily modified longarm sniper rifle whose barrel has been modified with electromagnetic charge coils which launch small metallic objects, commonly nails, at its target with high accuracy at extreme ranges. Sue to the long charge time for each shot (approximately 1.7 seconds) the Rail Rifle is best used as a sniper rifle, where plenty of time can be taken to line up the perfect shot. Little Nelly: A custom built blaster pistol which fires concentrated bursts of densely packed negatively charged ions which can overload most electrical systems, including most biological nervous systems, with a single blaster. Charge time on the pistol (0.8 seconds) makes it best for single shot use, but it can be switched to autofire mode with considerable loss of power with each shot. Radcycle: Custom built all-terrain single seat vehicle with short-range VTOL hover unit. The Radcycle was built from spare parts, salvage and 'acquired' technology by Harry over the course of many years and he's usually found making adjustments and refinements to its design whenever he has a free moment. While the cycle mainly uses its dual wheels for propulsion it is also fitted with an anti-grav coil which is usually used to lower the vehicle's mass, increasing its cruising speed and allowing for easier handling over rough terrain. In a pinch the coil can be overcharged to allow the bike to perform impressive jumps and even fly for short distances, although Harry would be the first to admit the reliability of the flight systems makes driving a much safer option in most circumstances. 'Wrench': Harry almost always wears a power generator backpack with a multitool attachment on an extending arm. He mostly uses this when repairing and maintaining his equipment and occasionally seems to argue with the device as though it were a living thing, but this may just be an anthropomorphisation of his tools. The backpack also contains a long-range scanner capable of detecting most known unshielded power sources upto a kilometer away, along with valuable metals and other technological items. 'Tablet': Seeing the need for data exchange, information management and gaming apps Harry built himself a simple but effective portable computer. Fitted with numerous data interfaces the Tablet can access most known network protocols and data feeds, along with acting as a messaging and extranet terminal. When not in use Harry normally carries the Tablet in a custom made carrying pouch slung over his shoulder, or just in whatever bag or satchel he happens to be carrying at the time. Bio: As Harry rarely speaks of his past in any great detail no-one's exactly sure where he's originally from. Although he appears to be human at times he's mentioned a mixed race heritage, although whether this was merely in jest has yet to be confirmed. What is known is that at a young age Harry found himself alone in the world, force to scavenge for food and supplies. Early on he discovered a knack with mechanical devices which would serve him well over the years. Constantly on the move, Harry has adapted well to a nomadic lifestyle, learning how to live off the land and hunt for food, as well as how to survive the sometimes harsh wasteland conditions he travels through. At some point one of his inventions would've literally blown up in his face, requiring him to have his left eye replaced with a cybernetic implant. Exactly where and when this had been done is something he doesn't like to talk about much, but then again he doesn't like to talk about anything very much, apart from technology. Quote: "I ran out of red wires so I just used green for everything. That won't be a problem, right?"</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) "If I die, everything I own is to be sold and the money sent to my parent. That said, if you'll agree to sell my stuff, excluding the necklace, but including my share of the salvage, and transfer the Valn to my implant where my parent can access it upon my death, you can have the crystal as payment for doing that." It was Zathuran custom to give all that you own, minus fees and such, to your next of kin upon death. While he knew that send his actual belonging thousands of kilometers to the east would be too expensive, transferring electronic currancy was free.</s> <\|message\|>T'Lora Qasan Sinc T'Lora knew that she would have to deal with another tag-along anyway she didn't bother to say anything else. She would let the humans negotiate between themselves. She would be getting as much salvage as she could haul in her jeep anyway so it really wasn't much of an issue and there would definitely be enough for all of them. Her bottle was empty, which meant she was done for the night. Aside from getting drunk she really didn't have any plan for finding some help for the salvage and since Has'la was doing a good enough job at it she figured she could just crash in her jeep outside for the night. "Has'la, you sir, have the helm. I'm off to my quarters for some R&R" T'Lora stood up straight and gave a human salute before sauntering out of the bar only to slump into the driver side of her jeep and reclining the seat, passing out almost immediately.</s> <\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut "... That said, if you'll agree to sell my stuff, excluding the necklace, but including my share of the salvage, and transfer the Valn to my implant where my parent can access it upon my death, you can have the crystal as payment for doing that." Harry watched as the Blueberry rose from her chair and rather unsteadily made her way towards the door. He had to admit she had her charms, and as he watched her hips swaying with each step he admired those charms for as long as she was in sight. With a smile Harry turned back to the stranger at the table and held out his hand, an ancient sign of an agreement having come to terms. "You got yourself a deal." Harry liked salvage claim deals when working as part of a group, it helped keep people together. Not because they trusted one another, since a lot of the time people got a little antsy when their beneficiaries were walking right behind them with a shotgun pointed at their back, but because they'd be unlikely to leave him behind if things turned south since they'd be leaving their own gear behind. Hoisting his satchel up onto the table Harry reached inside and retrieved his tablet before pushing the power cells across to his new business partner. "How about I buy us both a drink to celebrate this union, and you can explain to me a little more about what I just got myself into?" With a quick wave Harry signalled to Elsie, the barman's young wife and chief barmaid, that he was ready to order.</s> <\|message\|>Hanna Krauft of the Last Brigade The town's murmurings had started to go up a bit, passing through, following the source. A lone figure, fairly slim and somewhat short walked towards the bar of the town. The doors to the building opened to reveal a young woman. Her icy blue eyes scanned the bar as she walked in, pulling down the face wrap that covered her mouth from the dust. Walking towards the actual bar itself, the young girl began to slowly be noticed. Men began to look up from their drinks and cards, staring at this oddity as she strode up to the bartender. Her stare was unsettling, almost threatening, but the bartender stood his ground and starred right back at her as she took her seat. By the time she had reached the bar, the room's noise had reduced considerably, many watching the stranger, waiting to see what she was. One of the patrons thought to himself that this was like one of those western stories he read from an old book he scavenged, quietly laughing to himself about how cliche the whole thing was. The woman glanced around the room at the staring eyes, looked to the bartender with her cold stare and, with a strange accent, said, "Do you have any vater?" The bar broke into laughter and the men went back to their conversations and games. "Erm... no young lady, I don't. I got alcohol of all sorts, but, if you want your..."vater", you go get it at the market." "Fine, just pour me a shot." The young girl kept on hand on her odd, wood finished rifle and took the drink in the other. While most had returned to what they were doing, some still eyed the girl.</s> <\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut Over his shoulder Harry's wrench turned to scan the newcomer as she stepped into the bar. Immediately it gave off a warning beep, drawing the mechanic's attention. Turning Harry gave the girl the once-over and immediately spotted the heavy-duty rifle she was carrying. That would be quite a prize, to the right person, he thought to himself, although all I'd need would be a couple of hours in a decent workshop. Not that there were any decent workshops within a hundred miles of the rag-tag little town in which they sat. As she moved towards the bar Harry eyed the girl, spotting the shield unit she was carrying as his eye scanned her carefully, it's energy signature unmistakeable. With a sign he turned back to his new friend with a wry smile. Perhaps another time, he thought, I'll let some other guy try and crack that little nut. "You were saying something about this mission of yours?" Harry said to his 'partner', not wanting to let the issue lie until he'd been given something about their target or destination.</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) Has'la was sipping his glass of Jack with his new "friend", aka employee, when a woman walked in with a fancy rifle, wearing fancy armor. He looked her over, though it would take a keen eye to tell the difference between looking over her equipment and the kind of "looking her over" some of the other men in the bar were doing. They do realize she could kill them without breaking a sweat, right? he thought. "You were saying something about this mission of yours?"@SimplyJohn He was interrupted from his thoughts by the man sitting beside him. "Oh, yeah," he said. It's in a rad zone, but it's not that rad-heavy any more. As long as you get inside the ship in less than twenty minutes you want get rad poisoning, and you'd have at least twice that with decent anti-rad chems. I've got a few shots on hand, though, so you want need to buy your own." He motioned towards the newcomer. "If you don't mind," he said, "I'm going to see about hiring another hand to deal with those turrets." got up and walked over to her. "Hi." he said, a bit nervous. As heavily armed as she was she was probably a merc or bounty hunter, maybe an anti-raider. "You looking for work?" He didn't pause very long for her reply out of fear that he'd think he wanted to hire for a more private type of work. "I only ask because I'm heading out tomorrow to pull some salvage and I could use someone to help protect me as I haul it back."</s> <\|message\|>Hanna Krauft of the Last Brigade "Hi." The young woman looked up from her shot and faced the man that had approached her. Her cold blue eyes sizing the man up. "You looking for work?....... I only ask because I'm heading out tomorrow to pull some salvage and I could use someone to help protect me as I haul it back." The girl looked away for a moment, briefly mulling over the proposal, then returned her gaze to the man. "Well, as much as I like to help poor defenseless salvagers as they pick over some alien ship like some vulture, those alien ships tend to have some serious variations in threats. Some have petty point defense systems that had degrade over the years, while others can deploy kill drones with A grade weaponry that could wipe this pitiful mud hole off the face of the earth. On top of that, raider groups constantly watch potential salvage areas so that when the little caravan goes into the deadly rad/death drone zone, they essentially allow you guys to bring the loot to them" she paused and took another shot. Turning back to the man, she continued, "So cowboy, as I'm sure you're very well aware, there are a lot of variables that we will face going into this." she took another shot. "But I'll humor you and say this up front. I'll take your offer. And hopefully you can grow a pair and spit it out with a little less hint of pissing yourself." she took another shop. "Oh, and do be quick cowboy, your Amerikana piss vaser is both tasteless and hard hitting."</s> <\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut Stepping up between his new companions Harry pulled a bottle of freshly fermented Poitín from his bag, I stoppered it and slammed it down onto the bar top with a heavy thud which set the glasses all along the counter shaking. A dribble running down the side reached the polished wooden surface and let out a whisp of smoke as it began eating its way through. "Wenn sie auf der suche für ein bessere getränke, junge Mädchen, probieren meine brauen." 1 He declared in his best German. {1} "If you're looking for a better drink, young girl, try my brew." It was clear from the girl's clothes she was from the old European state, and her accent confirmed it for Harry. He'd had enough dealings with her countrymen in the past to know a little of her language, at least enough to get by trading, and drinking.</s> <\|message\|>Hanna Krauft of the Last Brigade The young woman raised an eyebrow as the gruffer looking man that had been sitting with her prospective new employer. He was somewhat more imposing than the other and his cybernetic eye wasn't helping in that department. However, that gruff, intimidating image quickly fell away when he spoke. "Wenn sie auf der suche für ein bessere getränke, junge Mädchen, probieren meine brauen." She suddenly grinned, then stifled a laugh and shook her head. "Danke. Ihr Deutsch ist nicht besonders gut. You offered your eyebrows to me, but I got the jist of it. Netter Versuch." she said with a small giggle. "So, I can only assume, since you were sitting with the gentlemen who so timidly asked me to help that your part of this 'Salvaging Job' then?"</s>	<\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut "I'm the salvaging part of the team, as far I understand. We were just in the process of discussing specifics." Harry responded, leaning against the bar as Elsie placed his regular brew beside him with a wink. Harry knew better than to respond to her little gesture, and as he lifted the mug to his lips he spotted the barman eyeing him carefully. Pretending not to notice the scrutiny the mechanic turned back to the young soldier with a grin. "Speaking of salvage, I couldn't help but notice the gear you're carrying." He said with genuine curiosity, his eyes dropping to the shield generator before bouncing up to the girl's rifle. "Some mighty fine pieces, which I'd be willing to give a good price on if you're interested in selling."</s>
<\|description\|>Hanna Krauft of the Last Brigade Theme Song Age: 25... maybe.... Appearance: She stands at a measly 5'1 with a somewhat small build. Thus it is always surprising when she is actually incredibly strong for her size and build. Personality: Straight-forward, sarcastic, and witty would be the nice way of describing this now wandering soldier. She seems always quick to criticize someone, or highlight their stupidity. However, unlike most, her criticisms and insults are always backed up, matter of fact statements that she will pound you into the ground verbally with. She won't insult your intelligence because she doesn't like you, she'll insult you because you are dumb. Oh, and if you are, say, a raider or an enemy of any kind... she will literally tear your neck out and feel no remorse later.... with a creepy enthusiasm to it. Now, despite this somewhat ironically hostile stance, she can be surprisingly friendly. In times of need, she will comfort you with wisdom you would have never thought to actually come out of her. Perhaps, deep down, she is a much older woman... someone who has seen to many people die in her hands... someone who is just... tired. Skills: Great Assaulter and brutal hand-to-hand fighter. Non-standard Abilities: Incredible Strength: thanks to biological modifications she received when she herself was critically wounded. Strong enough to easily wield a machine gun like an assault rifle or punch you through a wall. She can jump higher and run faster than the normal human as well. Enhanced Perception: A unintended side-effect of her treatment, she is much more sensitive to her surroundings and can process information much faster than a normal human. In layman's terms, she has a very, very good reaction time. Equipment: -A light comms unit in her helmet hooked up to a old military grade touch pad in her bag she uses for merc work. Nice for listening to the radio if anyone is broadcasting nearby. -A high intensity K99 Energy Assault Rifle, this weapon is powered by a high grade, rechargeable ion battery and is incredibly deadly. It punches through physical armor like no other and quickly turns enemies to swiss cheese. In fact, enemy soldiers of the Rad Wars would comment that taking cover behind anything other than a thick concrete wall would be futile, as the high intensity bolts of energy would simply go right through it. Most civilized places of Europe had banned this weapon, but it was common place in the "Rad Wars" of Germany. A fairly rare weapon to say the least on the North American Continent as it was mainly manufactured and used by the remnants of the German military before the total collapse. Its major draw back begin with its effectiveness against energy type shielding. If the shield is somewhat strong, it can stop a bolt entirely, and even if a bolt makes it through, it simply will go through the victim rather than scattering, making it far less deadly. Also, thanks to its burst fire to auto only modes, it's hard to use as a long range weapon. Best for short to medium ranges. -A Mk4 Hardlight Shield that she earned when she saved the life of a town guard's daughter. Essentially a deployable, directional energy shield. -A simple fixed blade 7 inch knife that she uses for just about everything. -A rucksack with a sleeping mat, food, travel supplies, ect. -A light, standard issued armor issued to soldiers of Brandenburg. Can stop small caliber rounds and light energy weapons, but nothing more. It is worn under their distinct camouflage uniforms. Bio: She was born in what had been formerly known as Germany in the great heavily irradiated wastes of Europe. The nation had fractured into factions trying to control the few zones that were not covered in deadly radiation. It was a state of constant, unending wars and suffering. Her home province of Brandenburg controlled a vital city and a serious of energy resources that everyone wanted to get their hands on. She was naturally conscripted into the military at 15 and.... well.... let's just say she was really good at killing people. She became part of the mysterious and widely feared "Bastards of Brandenburg". A murderous group of soldiers who's policy was total annihilation. No prisoners, no surrender, no remorse. She thrived on her bloodlust in that group, from ambushes to outright assaults on headquarters far behind the lines, she lived. Soon though, it all came to an end. For you see, the Bastards are not known as the bastards anymore. Brandenburg is now simply an important territory of the Neo Roman Empire. No, you may actually know the Bastards as "The Last Battalion". You see, a powerful unification turned Brandenburg's closest neighbor into a Juggernaut, slugging it out with Brandenburg. In the capital city, the Bastards of Brandenburg were the last military unit left. They held the city center, outnumbered, outgunned, and left for dead..... for three whole months. Finally though, in the great last stand of the now feared and infamous Last Battalion, they fell in the square at the heart of the city... Here is were they were wiped out for good.... But, as is with life, her suffering was not allowed to end in glorious death. She was discovered by a relief party of Azurians who had stumbled upon the site of the bloody last stand. They found a dying young girl, the only sole survivor of her people. They took Hanna in and nurtured her back to health, being forced to give her steroids and accelerators in order to save her life. When Hanna awoke in her surprisingly sterile bed, she had never felt better. After a short period of rehabilitation, she decided to try to repay her debt to the aliens that saved her by working with them to save others. For two years she acted as a bridge of sorts, allowing the group she was part of to give aid to otherwise hostile communities thanks to her negotiations and first hand accounts with the Azurian people. Eventually, she decided that she could cover more ground in helping people by traveling by herself, thus, gathering her old equipment, she left the Azurian group. They dropped her off in the American Southwest and wished her luck. Thus she set out, traveling the wastes to try to make the world a little better..... A somewhat ironic goal for a depressed, pessimistic, broken soul that is Hanna Krauft.</s> <\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut "... That said, if you'll agree to sell my stuff, excluding the necklace, but including my share of the salvage, and transfer the Valn to my implant where my parent can access it upon my death, you can have the crystal as payment for doing that." Harry watched as the Blueberry rose from her chair and rather unsteadily made her way towards the door. He had to admit she had her charms, and as he watched her hips swaying with each step he admired those charms for as long as she was in sight. With a smile Harry turned back to the stranger at the table and held out his hand, an ancient sign of an agreement having come to terms. "You got yourself a deal." Harry liked salvage claim deals when working as part of a group, it helped keep people together. Not because they trusted one another, since a lot of the time people got a little antsy when their beneficiaries were walking right behind them with a shotgun pointed at their back, but because they'd be unlikely to leave him behind if things turned south since they'd be leaving their own gear behind. Hoisting his satchel up onto the table Harry reached inside and retrieved his tablet before pushing the power cells across to his new business partner. "How about I buy us both a drink to celebrate this union, and you can explain to me a little more about what I just got myself into?" With a quick wave Harry signalled to Elsie, the barman's young wife and chief barmaid, that he was ready to order.</s> <\|message\|>Hanna Krauft of the Last Brigade The town's murmurings had started to go up a bit, passing through, following the source. A lone figure, fairly slim and somewhat short walked towards the bar of the town. The doors to the building opened to reveal a young woman. Her icy blue eyes scanned the bar as she walked in, pulling down the face wrap that covered her mouth from the dust. Walking towards the actual bar itself, the young girl began to slowly be noticed. Men began to look up from their drinks and cards, staring at this oddity as she strode up to the bartender. Her stare was unsettling, almost threatening, but the bartender stood his ground and starred right back at her as she took her seat. By the time she had reached the bar, the room's noise had reduced considerably, many watching the stranger, waiting to see what she was. One of the patrons thought to himself that this was like one of those western stories he read from an old book he scavenged, quietly laughing to himself about how cliche the whole thing was. The woman glanced around the room at the staring eyes, looked to the bartender with her cold stare and, with a strange accent, said, "Do you have any vater?" The bar broke into laughter and the men went back to their conversations and games. "Erm... no young lady, I don't. I got alcohol of all sorts, but, if you want your..."vater", you go get it at the market." "Fine, just pour me a shot." The young girl kept on hand on her odd, wood finished rifle and took the drink in the other. While most had returned to what they were doing, some still eyed the girl.</s> <\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut Over his shoulder Harry's wrench turned to scan the newcomer as she stepped into the bar. Immediately it gave off a warning beep, drawing the mechanic's attention. Turning Harry gave the girl the once-over and immediately spotted the heavy-duty rifle she was carrying. That would be quite a prize, to the right person, he thought to himself, although all I'd need would be a couple of hours in a decent workshop. Not that there were any decent workshops within a hundred miles of the rag-tag little town in which they sat. As she moved towards the bar Harry eyed the girl, spotting the shield unit she was carrying as his eye scanned her carefully, it's energy signature unmistakeable. With a sign he turned back to his new friend with a wry smile. Perhaps another time, he thought, I'll let some other guy try and crack that little nut. "You were saying something about this mission of yours?" Harry said to his 'partner', not wanting to let the issue lie until he'd been given something about their target or destination.</s> <\|message\|>Has'la Robinson (first name is Zathuran for Cunning) Has'la was sipping his glass of Jack with his new "friend", aka employee, when a woman walked in with a fancy rifle, wearing fancy armor. He looked her over, though it would take a keen eye to tell the difference between looking over her equipment and the kind of "looking her over" some of the other men in the bar were doing. They do realize she could kill them without breaking a sweat, right? he thought. "You were saying something about this mission of yours?"@SimplyJohn He was interrupted from his thoughts by the man sitting beside him. "Oh, yeah," he said. It's in a rad zone, but it's not that rad-heavy any more. As long as you get inside the ship in less than twenty minutes you want get rad poisoning, and you'd have at least twice that with decent anti-rad chems. I've got a few shots on hand, though, so you want need to buy your own." He motioned towards the newcomer. "If you don't mind," he said, "I'm going to see about hiring another hand to deal with those turrets." got up and walked over to her. "Hi." he said, a bit nervous. As heavily armed as she was she was probably a merc or bounty hunter, maybe an anti-raider. "You looking for work?" He didn't pause very long for her reply out of fear that he'd think he wanted to hire for a more private type of work. "I only ask because I'm heading out tomorrow to pull some salvage and I could use someone to help protect me as I haul it back."</s> <\|message\|>Hanna Krauft of the Last Brigade "Hi." The young woman looked up from her shot and faced the man that had approached her. Her cold blue eyes sizing the man up. "You looking for work?....... I only ask because I'm heading out tomorrow to pull some salvage and I could use someone to help protect me as I haul it back." The girl looked away for a moment, briefly mulling over the proposal, then returned her gaze to the man. "Well, as much as I like to help poor defenseless salvagers as they pick over some alien ship like some vulture, those alien ships tend to have some serious variations in threats. Some have petty point defense systems that had degrade over the years, while others can deploy kill drones with A grade weaponry that could wipe this pitiful mud hole off the face of the earth. On top of that, raider groups constantly watch potential salvage areas so that when the little caravan goes into the deadly rad/death drone zone, they essentially allow you guys to bring the loot to them" she paused and took another shot. Turning back to the man, she continued, "So cowboy, as I'm sure you're very well aware, there are a lot of variables that we will face going into this." she took another shot. "But I'll humor you and say this up front. I'll take your offer. And hopefully you can grow a pair and spit it out with a little less hint of pissing yourself." she took another shop. "Oh, and do be quick cowboy, your Amerikana piss vaser is both tasteless and hard hitting."</s> <\|message\|>Harold "Harry" Allnut Stepping up between his new companions Harry pulled a bottle of freshly fermented Poitín from his bag, I stoppered it and slammed it down onto the bar top with a heavy thud which set the glasses all along the counter shaking. A dribble running down the side reached the polished wooden surface and let out a whisp of smoke as it began eating its way through. "Wenn sie auf der suche für ein bessere getränke, junge Mädchen, probieren meine brauen." 1 He declared in his best German. {1} "If you're looking for a better drink, young girl, try my brew." It was clear from the girl's clothes she was from the old European state, and her accent confirmed it for Harry. He'd had enough dealings with her countrymen in the past to know a little of her language, at least enough to get by trading, and drinking.</s>	<\|message\|>Hanna Krauft of the Last Brigade The young woman raised an eyebrow as the gruffer looking man that had been sitting with her prospective new employer. He was somewhat more imposing than the other and his cybernetic eye wasn't helping in that department. However, that gruff, intimidating image quickly fell away when he spoke. "Wenn sie auf der suche für ein bessere getränke, junge Mädchen, probieren meine brauen." She suddenly grinned, then stifled a laugh and shook her head. "Danke. Ihr Deutsch ist nicht besonders gut. You offered your eyebrows to me, but I got the jist of it. Netter Versuch." she said with a small giggle. "So, I can only assume, since you were sitting with the gentlemen who so timidly asked me to help that your part of this 'Salvaging Job' then?"</s>
<\|description\|>Stíofán ó Faoláin (English: Stephen Whelan) Age: 28 Appearance: Stephen stands at 6 foot 7 inches (200.66cm), and has medium length, ginger hair. He also has a ginger beard, which he keeps at a medium length. He has pale skin, and is quite muscular. On his left arm he was a tattoo sleeve that he got whilst travelling. The sleeve has a shamrock on it, underneath saying the phrase "Níl aon tinteán mar do thinteán féin", written in a green, Celtic, font. There are also tattoos of: a catholic cross, another quote saying "Only God can judge me", a stem, that splits into two large, wilted, back roses, and a smaller, similarly black and wilted rose, a tattoo of the state of California next to the Republic of Ireland, a hand holding an arrow, and the Irish flag, with the edges dissolving into the skin. His musculature is slightly defined. He also has a scar along his right upper arm from when he was attacked. Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf If werewolf: Beta Background: Stephen grew up in Ireland, speaking Irish as a first language, with English as a second. When he was 21, he moved away to see the world, and then settled down with a friend in California when his family died in a car crash when he was 23. Being Irish, this was not perfect for him, and he was thinking of moving back to Ireland, but was attacked when he went out one night in the dark by a werewolf at the age of 25. Two months later, his friend who he lived then said that he was moving cross country, and Stephen moved into the apartments with the other werewolves. Since joining the pack, Stíofán has always had the feeling that Carlson didn't like him.</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer Kalib let the woman take her bleeding friend from him and nodded. "Right," and headed inside. He recognized the black-haired bartender and ran to her. "Hey, call an ambulance. Some guy just fell outside and he's covered in blood! His friend it out there with him but he really needs to get to the hospital, and fast." Keeping his voice calm, he tried not to make anyone panic. He told himself in his head that the guy will be okay so long as 911 comes.</s> <\|message\|>Dimitri Kozlov Dimitri scowled once he saw the guy ask for the ambulance, rather than getting a medkit, as asked. Maintaining his temper; which he was rather easy at, the Russian got up from where he was leaning on the wall, nearby, moving towards the bar's counter. Easily sliding over, he quickly located the red and white medkit, underneath the counter's tabletop. Grabbing it, Dimitri slid back over the counter, long legs quickly striding him over to where his two accomplices were leaning against the building, outside. His sunglasses were back on, hiding his eyes, but it also allowed him to see easily, despite the darkness from the nightsky. Crouching down, Dimitri handed Yvette the first-aid kit, before taking a few steps back, so that he wouldn't get in her way. First-aid was definitely not his forte, and he knew that Yvette had training in it...most-likely from her delusional Uncle. "Dumbass..." He muttered underneath his voice, once again, but it was unknown on who the insult was directed towards.</s> <\|message\|>Nanix Erka Nanix watched Kalib come and tell her to call 911, then Demitiri come and take the kit. "... something tells me that guy has it" She pointed to him. "you want a drink?"</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer "Huh?" He turned, seeing the tail end of a hulking man leave with something red and white. ". . . . Oh. Er, okay. A rum and cola, please. . ." Kalib said, awkwardly seating himself at the bar. He felt like a spaz for running in like that, and a blockhead for not going for the first aid kit. Attempting not to look as embarrassed as he felt, he leaned against the counter. "How's the night going for ya? Got a lot of tips?" With the multiple times the pack has gone drinking before the full moon, Kalib had began to favor this bartender more then her co-workers and silently scolded himself for not asking her name after all this time. Seeking a peek over his shoulder, he wanted to see if anyone was staring or, at least, not noticing him. "Man, you mucked this one up real good. How will the pack expect to rely on you when you're being stupid and can't handle getting the first aid kit." Chastised his mind. It was one thing being one of the younger werewolves in the pack; its quite another being a young omega who needs to do his job.</s> <\|message\|>Avery Wind Avery listened patiently as Fayth talked and talked about the boys and getting tipsy, her lips almost never stopped moving. It could be good though, at times. Especially when things got uncomfortably silent. Then Fayth mentioned something about a gross guy who needed help, and Avery looked around, her tired eyes frantic. Yet...She saw no one. Avery turned back to Fayth and squinted. "Fayth, are you sure? I don't see anyone. Did he leave, did he look confused?" She resisted the urge to rest her hand on Fayth's forehead to check for a fever. "If you're busy right now, I'll let you get back to your friend's while I make my rounds. Uhh, ladies, do you want anything? Refills, food. Anything?" She took out her little notepad, flipping it open and bringing out a mechanical pencil, covered in scratches and stickers of rainbows. "I suggest our cosmos with a strawberry topping or a lemon twist. Its delicious!"</s> <\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow Between talking about guys and keeping track of everyone at the bar, this was getting exhausting. 'Yes, I'm sure you idiot.' She thought. Tired of everyone giving her lip. Seemed everyone had something to say around here. God, putting up with Jesse and her bad habit of street fights, Mori's suspicions, Ryan's boyfriend. Fayth needed to let out a big sigh. Instead of sipping on that weak appletini like a ditzy blonde girl would, she straight chugged it down in one go. 'Fuck, that's gross.' Fayth cringed. A whiskey girl at heart. Her hand grabbed a hold of Jesse's arm and she made sure to look at her. Even if Jesse might not make eye contact, Fay kept a steady and intense gaze on her face. "We can pick up the tab in much better ways. Safer ways." Keeping in mind everyone around. "Like, I could give you such great pointers, girlie!" Flash the big smile for the cameras. Turn, pose. Then looking over at Mori, she pat her on the back. "I'll be back honey, I know you want to talk to me so so badly." Fayth looked up at Avery. "By the way, this sweetheart right here," indicating Mori, "She ordered her usual. Some juice. No alcohol can you believe it? It's like she's against fun or something." Fay turned to the door. Her scent picking up the blood easily. It made her hair rise and her heart race faster. The blood of animals, she could deal with. But humans? She wanted to stay clear of that path. It didn't lead anywhere. Nowhere except a place of tears and blood. On her way out, Fay yelled out over to Kalib. The other omega who in fact was doing just fine. Calling 911 was one half of the job, the first-aid kit was the second. "Get on the phone and call 911, alright? Sound good? Great." Fay nearly rolled her eyes click-clacking with her ridiculous heels on out the door. Once outside she caught sight of the tall, muscular Russian. He didn't look like someone anyone would like to pick a fight with. Not even a guy Fay would like to fight. Then again, if she could avoid every fight, she would. Not to mention, while Fay was coming out to check on Thomas' health (he was a solid drinking partner), the beep of his phone also interested her. A quick snatch of his cellphone could be nice. The item could sell for a few dollars. Good money. Two problems being Dmitri standing there, and Yvette also watching over him. Fay kneeled down with Yvette. "Do you know what you're doing? If you don't, say so right now and I can take over from here! I'm having an ambulance called because let's be real here guys, he def needs to get to the hospital." Fay paused for a second. Looking at Thomas who was bleeding out. "Gauze, anti-septic wipes, anti-biotic, use the goddamn gloves or risk infecting him, and hurry up and use that mother fucking adhesive tape. If you don't hurry up, I will!"</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer Catching Fay's command as she, too, left out the door, Kalib felt only a smidge better knowing another omega was here in case he messed up. He pulled out his phone and dialed emergency services, telling them the situation, and getting back to what he was doing. "If that guy really does need help, at least someone's coming." He thought, a little less dismal this time. Shoving the negative thoughts from his head, he bucked up and resolved to focus on his job. Turning in his seat, he looked about the scene with alertness. If anything else were to go wrong, he'd make sure he'd catch it (and that he didn't do it himself). It seemed that the usual suspects were at the bar that night. The alphas, a few betas, a bunch of townsfolk looking to have a good night. Even though he was at the bar, he wasn't expecting to get too drunk that night. It wouldn't be new if a few hunters would try to scope out targets a few days before the full moon and Kalib wasn't going to let anyone hurt their pack. Not on his watch.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir @Trinais ~Anton~ Anton watched Ryan walk away with hungry eyes and made herself comfy on her chair. She should really come here regularly - force Ryan into working weeks, perhaps? Anton didn't really know how she felt about Ryan. His eyes are so dreamy... She was awoken by a rapid voice in her ear. "You are done drinking." "Fuck off Carlson. I can drink as much as I intend to. Which, like all of the rest of my private life, is none of your business." Anton watched Thomas being tended to by, literally, everyone. She took this as an opportunity to get away from Carlson, and lifting herself over the bar, went into the cooler room where she found Ryan. "Hey, Ryan? I've waited long enough, where do you store my Vodka?" She began rooting through cupboards without waiting for an answer. 'Fuckin' Ryan,' she thought.</s> <\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Mori Did it only seem or was the bar really unusually loud that night? Sure, it was a rush hour, like every other month before the full moon. A pack of wolves ordering drinks, and causing minor troubles that come with that, then some other human locals, who were also more or less regular costumers in the bar. In all that crazy bunch, Mori noticed three fairy new visitors, who on a first glance seem to know each other. And yet they did not make an entrance together. That guy, who soon became the center of all the attention, bursting in the bar covered in blood, and then Mr. Muscles, as Fay called him, drinking water, while everyone around him was indulging in the mind numbing liquid. He sure seemed like a dream date for Mori, but judging from herself, she knew that you should never trust a man who does not drink alcohol, because they are probably up to something. She lost herself in thought with scanning the mysterious threesome, and completely overhead Fay's words about her not being fun due to drinking juice. When she finally got her drink, she realized all the fun had already moved outside, with the three strangers gone, and of course Fay, who seemed to take control of the situation pretty well. Strangely enough, that didn't bother Mori at all, what bothered her was the fact that Carlson was giving all the attention to Anton, who did what she knew best – victimize herself with overdrinking, and then getting all the attention for it. ''Carlson!'' she called for her partner, who didn't seem to hear her the first time. ''God dammit, Carlson!'' she called for him again, and then walked herself right next to him, right at the moment Antony managed to get away from his norturing grip. ''Something's up,'' she said through her teeth, looking at Carlson to see if he was monitoring his surroundings at all. ''Something is not right here. I can feel it.''</s> <\|message\|>Yvette Stowe "I would prefer it if you move away..." Yvette murmured. She dug through the medical kit, working quickly to at least clot the wound so that the flow of blood would cease. "The wound isn't too harsh, however it is rather deep, but not deep enough to scratch the surface of the bone. It isn't as dire as you think, it was earlier because he did nothing but sit and drink nonchalantly as if nothing had ever happened, and during that timeframe he lost quite a bit of blood." Well, time to put her uncle's teachings into use. She rubbed her hands on her pants, slipped on the gloves the kit had given her and began to pour hydrogen peroxide onto a sterilized piece of cloth. Antibiotics were important yet surprisingly missing from the medical kit, however that could be settled at the emergency room of the hospital, for now Yvette would have to settle with simply cleaning the wound, then dressing it with a decent layer of gauze and a compression bandage from another piece of cloth. "I can drive to the hospital faster than an ambulance can arrive, so don't waste your time with calling it." Yvette closed the lit, placed it into the hands of Dimitri, then wrapped Thomas' un-injured arm over her shoulders so that she was able to slide him into the back seat of her Camaro. "I appreciate the help though." She headed over to the drivers seat and rolled down the window. "Dimitri, meet us at the hospital, afterwards we'll talk." Yvette gave him a small nod, then drove off. "This would have been a lot easier if someone had decided to go get treated instead of drink... What a pain in my ass. I'm no den mother." She grunted and slammed her fist onto her car horn, honking it violently as she whizzed past cars to make it to the hospital in a short amount of time.</s>	<\|message\|>Stíofán ó Faoláin (English: Stephen Whelan) Stephen wondered how the Russian man had a connection with the heavily bleeding man, but continued to listen. After a minute or so of talking, the bleeding man left the bar, and a few people followed, including the Russian man and his female friend. Stephen assumed that they were leaving, and didn't follow. However, after a couple of minutes it appeared as though there was a problem outside the bar. He wanted to know what was happening, so he stood up, and went outside. He was about to offer help, when the woman was taking the bleeding man into her car. Stephen spoke to the Russian man, who was a bit shorter than himself, but more muscular, "I was about to ask if you wanted any help," he told him, not bothering to dull down his Irish accent, "But it looks like you don't need it. What happened?" he asked.</s>
<\|description\|>Ryan Jameson Age: 27 Appearance: (image or description is fine) Cannot get images to work (>.<), so I'll just say 6-foot-3, 150 lbs. Dark brown hair cut short on the sides, Ryan is dressed in Midwestern jeans and tees from the thrift shop. Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Beta Werewolf Background: The son of a rancher father and a stay-at-home mom, Ryan Jameson grew up with the sun over his head and the wind at his back while mom and dad tried to bring him up right. Hard work was rewarded and good behavior would be noticed out in the real world, they said. So when dad took mom out to Topeka for an anniversary, they had no qualms about leaving their son to watch the house for a night. And when Ryan found a large dog in one of the newer remote-controlled coyote traps, he did what his dad taught him to: keep it locked up and wait for dad to grab his gun and take care of it. When he heard other dogs howling on his way back to the house, Ryan didn't pay it no mind. Figured the strays would run together. Of course, when he got to the front porch of the house and felt himself tackled and bit into by a pair of other dogs, he straight up lost it. And when the dogs coordinated to drag him into the fields, he passed out from fear. After which he promptly awoke in the basement of another house (later learned to be the suburbs of Topeka). The Alpha of the pack didn't appreciate being caught in a common animal trap, making him look like a fool to his Betas. And he sure as hell didn't like being left out there until Ryan's "dear daddy" came back to put a bullet in his brain like he did to the pack's number three Beta last full moon. So he did Ryan the pleasure of informing him the pup would be taking the Beta's place. It was a rough crowd at first, but Ryan took to the job of being a Beta with natural ease. He wasn't able to watch the news and see the search effort his parents lead, but it was probably for the better. The bony, pimply faces on milk cartons and the cable networks were much more different than his new, muscular and lean look the wolf in him brought out. Maybe it was Stockholm Syndrome, or maybe it was just a new love for his supernatural life, but after the first year Ryan didn't think about reaching out to his family again. Probably for the best; his dad was crucified by the media as an irresponsible parent and locked up under suspicion of murdering his own son, and his mom offed herself not long after under the media scrutiny. After a few years, Ryan started to flex his legs and leverage his status as a dominant Beta for more freedom. The Topeka Alpha, Jared Wilks, resisted and kept Ryan on a tight leash to keep the Betas in line and prevent an insurrection, but when Mori the Alpha came to town, things changed right quick. She ran with Topeka for a couple of days before realizing what was going on: a pack with twenty wolves wasn't the norm in her travels. Jared added a new wolf to his pack every year, while another easily wouldn't live through the change. Mori saw this wasn't going to last forever- sooner or later a Hunter would catch on and come to town and clean house. So she did the only sensible thing she could think of. She kicked the shit out of Jared and scattered the pack by force. Ryan, not sure what to do without his Alpha to follow, took to following Mori out West to Cali. Moving out to California, Ryan hasn't fully integrated with the new pack. He keeps to himself, working at the last bar in town, "The Backhouse," as a mixer. California hasn't been the land of milk and honey he hoped it would be, but he's started seeing a human by the name of Michael on his nights off. The budding relationship between Ryan and Michael is a source of potential conflict for the pack- Ryan hasn't told Michael what he does on his "Fishing Trips" during the full moon, and Ryan has gotten overly aggressive whenever the subject of turning Michael to keep pack secrecy has been brought up...</s> <\|message\|>Stíofán ó Faoláin (English: Stephen Whelan) Stíofán ó Faoláin It was the last night before the full moon, and Stephen walked down the stairs of the block of flats that all of the werewolves lived in, and strolled down the road. It was beginning to get dark, and soon there would be a slight chill in the air. This is normal for Greyville, however, and Stephen liked this. It reminded him of home, back in Ireland. He continued down the road until he got to the pub, the last one in Greyville in fact, The Backhouse. All of the werewolves liked to go here on the last night before the full moon. They wouldn't be able to have much to drink tomorrow night, so they drank tonight to make up for it. Stephen walked into the pub, and looked around. He was the first of the werewolves there, as per usual. The rest of them had family to say goodbye to, or some work to do, or something like that. Stephen didn't have any of this. He didn't have a wife or children to say goodbye to, and legally, he wasn't a US citizen, so he couldn't get a job. He didn't want to risk applying for a work visa and being deported because he was here illegally. There was no police station in Greyville, and the police who were supposed to patrol the town rarely came, anyway. Stephen found a relatively dark area of the pub, he didn't really feel like speaking to anyone, and sat down. He'd wait for a few more werewolves to come in before he ordered a drink, and perhaps he'd get drunk enough to feel like striking up a conversation with someone.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir ~Anton~ Anton looked up at the moon - it was almost full. Pulling on her jacket, she edged into the darkness beyond her apartment door. She could hear other people (probably werewolves) saying goodbye to family and friends, and sighed. As she walked down the stairs a few fellow werewolves gave her dirty looks; she gave them straight back. She felt like getting drunk. Too drunk. The drink would drown all her sorrows, like being demoted, her friend loss, everything. Besides, the more she drank, the less discomfort she would feel tomorrow. As Anton walked into the cool night air, she could (with her developed senses) smell someone lurking in the shadows. She pretended not to notice them, then turned around and pounced. Her face connected with the pavement. 'Ah.' she thought, when her eyes met with a squirrel. Maybe she was losing her touch. Heading towards the bar, she could swear she smelled an unpleasant human scent. Anton walked in the bar. "Gimme a round o' Fireside Flamers - mostly wine, yeah?" she ordered at the barmaid. She could see a fellow beta wolf, Stephen, lurking in a corner. She gave him a small salute and, grinning, yelled behind her, "And an extra strong vodka!"</s>	<\|message\|>Ryan Jameson "What time do you think you're going to be back tonight?" Goddammit, Ryan knew he was going to ask that question. And the worst part was, he heard the change in Michael's voice on the other side of the phone when he asked it. The upbeat chattery voice he'd had a moment ago when discussing his latest art project at the Community College was gone. Ryan could see him now, his face tinged with paint, tanned skin smudged with red and white and blue, pacing in front of a canvas barefoot and shirtless while he stood on a white sheet in their loft. Now Michael sounded like he was treading eggshells. Or broken glass. Ryan had to take a very loud pull on his cigarette to buy himself a moment to think. The Monthly Pack meetings were a necessity. Not just because of his status as a Beta, but it was a condition for his moving in with Michael. Bad enough he felt like he'd abandoned one family to start another, but Michael was definitely suspicious about the "fishing trips" he went on every month. "I, ah, won't be back until morning," Ryan said cautiously. "Group meeting, you know? We're going down to the river to catch trout." Silence. "Right," Michael said. "Trout." "Or whatever we can catch. Fish is fish." Please don't get pissed. Please don't get pissed! "Whatever. Call me when you get back. I'll probly be over in Portside getting my gallery showing set up." Click. 'I'll be there for the gallery!' was on the tip of Ryan's tongue when Michael hung up. But that was that. Ryan shut his phone down, tossed the cigarette against the back wall of the building, and shuffled back inside through the kitchen. He wanted to hit someone. Something. He couldn't help feeling pissed at Michael for not giving him one night a month to be himself. At the same time, he was completely pissed at himself for not telling Michael the truth. It wasn't a guarantee that Michael would run for the hills screaming if he knew Ryan was one level above an "extreme closet Furry" as he'd once put it. But it WAS a guarantee that he'd be forced into their club if he found out what Ryan moonlighted as. There was no dancing around that fine line. So Ryan kept lying to Michael about fishing trips, despite never buying a pole or tackle ever ("The club has extras, so why spend the money?") and always bringing home stuff from the Market ("No bights last night, babe. But I'll make you dinner!") The whole reason Ryan kept lying to Michael was to give himself a taste of the real world. What his life might have been like if Topeka hadn't happened. He was getting the full package of human relationships now- especially the "lying to one's spouse about some deep dark secret" thing. At the bar, Michael spotted Stephen hiding in the corner and instinctively poured him a cold PBR, sliding it to one of the servers to send his way. When Anton showed up and asked for her Fireside Flamers, Ryan had to roll his eyes. He popped open a bottle of California red, then opened an underside fridge where he kept "the good stuff" chilled. The bottle of vodka he pulled out was on special order for Anton A.) because it was $70 a bottle and B.) because she was the only person in this state crazy enough to drink it. All the other vodkas he kept were way too weak in her opinion, and she'd let Ryan know. "Anton, you know this stuff is practically jet fuel, yeah?"</s>
<\|description\|>Ryan Jameson Age: 27 Appearance: (image or description is fine) Cannot get images to work (>.<), so I'll just say 6-foot-3, 150 lbs. Dark brown hair cut short on the sides, Ryan is dressed in Midwestern jeans and tees from the thrift shop. Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Beta Werewolf Background: The son of a rancher father and a stay-at-home mom, Ryan Jameson grew up with the sun over his head and the wind at his back while mom and dad tried to bring him up right. Hard work was rewarded and good behavior would be noticed out in the real world, they said. So when dad took mom out to Topeka for an anniversary, they had no qualms about leaving their son to watch the house for a night. And when Ryan found a large dog in one of the newer remote-controlled coyote traps, he did what his dad taught him to: keep it locked up and wait for dad to grab his gun and take care of it. When he heard other dogs howling on his way back to the house, Ryan didn't pay it no mind. Figured the strays would run together. Of course, when he got to the front porch of the house and felt himself tackled and bit into by a pair of other dogs, he straight up lost it. And when the dogs coordinated to drag him into the fields, he passed out from fear. After which he promptly awoke in the basement of another house (later learned to be the suburbs of Topeka). The Alpha of the pack didn't appreciate being caught in a common animal trap, making him look like a fool to his Betas. And he sure as hell didn't like being left out there until Ryan's "dear daddy" came back to put a bullet in his brain like he did to the pack's number three Beta last full moon. So he did Ryan the pleasure of informing him the pup would be taking the Beta's place. It was a rough crowd at first, but Ryan took to the job of being a Beta with natural ease. He wasn't able to watch the news and see the search effort his parents lead, but it was probably for the better. The bony, pimply faces on milk cartons and the cable networks were much more different than his new, muscular and lean look the wolf in him brought out. Maybe it was Stockholm Syndrome, or maybe it was just a new love for his supernatural life, but after the first year Ryan didn't think about reaching out to his family again. Probably for the best; his dad was crucified by the media as an irresponsible parent and locked up under suspicion of murdering his own son, and his mom offed herself not long after under the media scrutiny. After a few years, Ryan started to flex his legs and leverage his status as a dominant Beta for more freedom. The Topeka Alpha, Jared Wilks, resisted and kept Ryan on a tight leash to keep the Betas in line and prevent an insurrection, but when Mori the Alpha came to town, things changed right quick. She ran with Topeka for a couple of days before realizing what was going on: a pack with twenty wolves wasn't the norm in her travels. Jared added a new wolf to his pack every year, while another easily wouldn't live through the change. Mori saw this wasn't going to last forever- sooner or later a Hunter would catch on and come to town and clean house. So she did the only sensible thing she could think of. She kicked the shit out of Jared and scattered the pack by force. Ryan, not sure what to do without his Alpha to follow, took to following Mori out West to Cali. Moving out to California, Ryan hasn't fully integrated with the new pack. He keeps to himself, working at the last bar in town, "The Backhouse," as a mixer. California hasn't been the land of milk and honey he hoped it would be, but he's started seeing a human by the name of Michael on his nights off. The budding relationship between Ryan and Michael is a source of potential conflict for the pack- Ryan hasn't told Michael what he does on his "Fishing Trips" during the full moon, and Ryan has gotten overly aggressive whenever the subject of turning Michael to keep pack secrecy has been brought up...</s> <\|message\|>Ryan Jameson "Special's not up yet," Ryan said to Avery, watching as Anton downed her vile concoction and demanded more. Ryan just shook his head and put the whole bottle on the counter for her. "Southern Fireballs at two-for-five tonight. Russian Reuben sandwiches for six bucks, just as bad as always." Ryan gave Avery a wide berth as she moved across the bar. It was hard enough being a waitress at a place that didn't serve alcohol. Her tips might be a little higher here, but sooner or later someone became a drunk asshole and the nights got interesting. Speaking of assholes, he pulled his phone out as it vibrated in his pocket. Heading to studio. Call tmrw? "Hey Avery, what do you buy someone when you need to say 'Sorry I've been an asshole lately?'" But Ryan didn't stick around to hear the answer to that one. Anton had already plowed through the potato-based jet fuel he'd given her and was making for the ladies room. "Oh fuckberries." Ryan slipped out from behind the bar, following in Anton's wake until she went into the ladies room. And he dared not cross that threshold. "Anton," Ryan yelled, pounding the door. "Anton, I can hear you puking in there! Flush the damn toilet this time, all right?"</s> <\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow In the darkness of the clear sky night, Fayth held the last of a cigarette to her lips. Taking one last, long and smooth drag. The bright orange glow burned away as she tossed it to the ground. Blowing out a puff of smoke that hazed up in front of her face, drifting up into the nothingness above. She crushed the cigarette underneath her foot, grinding it against asphalt. Looking at The Backhouse as it began to fill with the familiar faces of her new pack. Fayth watched them carefully. Even those who were human. In today's world, knowing who to trust and who needed to be watched was a necessity. The only problem with that was one thing: everyone needed to be watched. As the new Omega of the tribe, her hardened gaze needed to be focused as ever. While this pack had survived and kept great numbers in the death rate, it seemed to her that they had grown too relaxed. Ryan had his stubborn, infuriating ways. His human boyfriend was becoming a problem of sorts. No one could know about their secrets otherwise everyone's life was in jeopardy. Most importantly, her own life would be in trouble. Fayth wasn't going to let anyone get in the way of her own survival. Then there was Anton and her foolish habits. Her sorrows and depression. Instead of getting on with her life, Anton had decided to drown herself in the venomous belly of the worst snake of all: alcohol. Not that Fay didn't indulge herself. She'd like to think she had herself under control when it came to drinking. Anton needed a lesson, fast. Every single one of them did. The more Fay thought about it, the more this monthly visit to the bar seemed incredibly stupid. A whole pack of werewolves in one place, conveniently on the night before the full moon. The same people. The same day. Every month. It didn't take rocket science for a hunter to figure out that something was strange about this all. Everyone was so undisciplined. It's a goddamn miracle they're all alive. Fayth sighed as it was time for her to walk into the pub. She worked part time there as a bartender, but on these nights she decided to take the night off. Be on watch for her fellow wolves. And tonight she looked every bit the part she wanted to play. Her dyed blonde hair let loose flowing down her shoulders. A pair of hooped earrings in. Black heels, and a tight black dress that revealed her long smooth legs as she strutted on into the bar. Her heels clacking the entire way as she moved on in. Fay gave a brilliant smile to those who were there. Especially the men. Showing off as she moved on up to a stool at the bar and took her seat. Placing her purse on the counter. The blonde looked around and spotted Avery immediately. "Hey gorgeous! Can you help a girl out over here? I need to get cray tonight. Tipsy! Ya' know? I'll take the usual by the way." The usual being an appletini that would probably get most men laughed at if they ordered it. She claimed to hate the taste of alcohol and just wanted that sweet drink.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir ~Anton~ "Yeah, yeah." Anton muttered, whizzing around and flushing the toilet. So much for "drowning her sorrows". More like drowning sick down a toilet. She was highly regretting puking it up; once a month was far too little time to drink good strong Vodka. She mentally slapped herself for not being able to survive the Vodka, and burst out the bathroom door only to collide with Ryan pounding on the door. "Ryan! You scared the shit out of me! Look, I heard you the first time, ok? Now I need more Vodka. And please don't tell me you only got one bottle AGAIN!" She strode over to a dank table that had not been wiped properly, sat down, and waited expectantly for Ryan to bring her anything.</s> <\|message\|>Yvette Stowe Greyville, a place that Yvette knew was packed full of werewolves. By her research, and the research of others, and established pack was located in this town, however the only problem would be fishing them out and eradicating their very existence off the face of this earth. She let out a small huff as she stared at her laptop screen. A word document filled with her theories had been sitting in front of her for the past hour while she had sat around and thought... Man, thinking was hard. The young hunter leaned back in her chair and let out a frustrated sigh as she sat up and ran her fingers through her hair. "Dimitri might be up to something." Yvette murmured. He was already taking the initiative, in fact he probably might have already done something catastrophic. She shook her head lightly and paced about her apartment room, thinking of things to do before she would actually start heading out into the forests for late night hunting. Ah, well she could grab a drink? It wouldn't hurt to participate in normal activities once and awhile? With that thought in mind, Yvette gathered her hair up into a bun, put on a leather jacket to relieve herself of the cold winds and left her apartment to satisfy her taste for drinking. The young woman slipped into her sleek black Camaro, the trunk already filled with the appropriate weaponry for hunting, and drove off. Yvette took the fast and edgy way to the bar by speeding past signs which would probably end up with her mailbox stuffed full of tickets for disobeying the town's traffic laws. No matter, she could pay it off in due time. ---- The Hunter pulled up near the bar and exited her car, her hands stuffed into her pockets as she slid through the entrance and settled down at the bar counter. Well, since she was alone, maybe she should pester Dimitri? Yvette pulled out her phone and sent him a quick text. Lmao ay, cum 2 duh bar.</s> <\|message\|>Jesse Williams Where other members of the pack left their respective home or flat, giving their families the good-bye-smooch or some such nonsense, Jesse kicked her door close, leaving nothing behind but a messy, lifeless apartment. Reeking of copulation and the feral smell one would know from animal cages at the zoo. But ultimately, it was devoid of life today. It was rather usual for the fine lady Williams to kick temporary lovers out of her lair without mercy for their bodily well-being nor the accepted noise level of the block, though not today. She left on her own, in what one would call 'good' mood, wearing nothing less than brass knuckles on her right hand like shiny, sparkly jewelry. She passed a few others on the path down the stairway, gracefully ignoring their presence, uncaring wether or not they looked at her with hostility (that would be other wolves) or awe (as did the few human inhabitants of the building). She made her way out on the streets, bouncing rather than walking. It was the night before the night, and though the bar would be crowded with canines, it was a promising night for lovers of a good scuffle. About twenty minutes later, Jesse arrived at the bar. The acute observer would notice a time loss of about ten minutes, walking the distance from her apartment to the establishment, however. A fresh bundle of bank notes in her pocket as well as a few splatters of blood adorning her knuckle dusters and right arm implied the cause of her delay. Being without a steady income, the woman had to 'make' some money every now and then, and the unlucky victim of tonight was a semi-professional dealer trying to make some quick cash on her route to the pub. What the poor guy forgot to consider when picking a police-free neighbourhood was the better-than-average sense of smell a handful of people around here had, something that came incredibly handy when looking for a quick 'money dispenser'. After a quick 'chat' with the gentleman that thoroughly convinced him to avoid this area of Greyville in the future, Jesse arrived at the bar, quickly letting her blood-covered weapon disappear in the pockets of her sleeveless hoodie. She cared enough to superficially wipe the clearly visible blood on her arm away, leaving some less noticeable but still hardly secreted smears. Upon entering with an utterly amused expression - the evening started fairly entertaining after all - she sought a place at the counter, avoiding the general 'pack corner'. For her it was more fun to converse with the clueless human customers anyway, and that lessened the chances for a brawl with the other wolves too. Not that she was eager to avoid such a thing, but pretending to always looked better in the eyes of the alphas. Her choice of a seat was strategically closer to Avery than to Ryan. Unsurprisingly, she addressed the human when issuing her first order of the night. "Hey sweety, how about you pour me some vodka? Make it the good 'ol cheap stuff, alright?" Jesse wasn't the kind to ask for expensive stuff. Heck, she hardly ever had enough money on her to pay the tab after a night of drinking cheap shit. Living at the low end of low makes you numb enough to not care, though.</s>	<\|message\|>Ryan Jameson Pounding the door until he heard the toilet flush was a good way to persuade Anton to actually flush her sick down. A single stall ladies room was within state regulations for a place this size, but only just. So when Anton opened up for Ryan, he was swinging so fast that he fell forward, spinning on his heel just in time to catch himself before clipping his face on the porcelain sink. "Christ Anton, you blew through that stuff, puke it down, then want more? If you weren't... well, you, then I'd say you're looking at killing your liver." Ryan knew for a fact, however, that there was no more of the 'Jet Fuel' behind the bar to be had. He'd have to go to the cooler for more. "Avery? Can you take over for me while I get more J-F for Anton? Thanks lovely!"</s>
<\|description\|>Ryan Jameson Age: 27 Appearance: (image or description is fine) Cannot get images to work (>.<), so I'll just say 6-foot-3, 150 lbs. Dark brown hair cut short on the sides, Ryan is dressed in Midwestern jeans and tees from the thrift shop. Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Beta Werewolf Background: The son of a rancher father and a stay-at-home mom, Ryan Jameson grew up with the sun over his head and the wind at his back while mom and dad tried to bring him up right. Hard work was rewarded and good behavior would be noticed out in the real world, they said. So when dad took mom out to Topeka for an anniversary, they had no qualms about leaving their son to watch the house for a night. And when Ryan found a large dog in one of the newer remote-controlled coyote traps, he did what his dad taught him to: keep it locked up and wait for dad to grab his gun and take care of it. When he heard other dogs howling on his way back to the house, Ryan didn't pay it no mind. Figured the strays would run together. Of course, when he got to the front porch of the house and felt himself tackled and bit into by a pair of other dogs, he straight up lost it. And when the dogs coordinated to drag him into the fields, he passed out from fear. After which he promptly awoke in the basement of another house (later learned to be the suburbs of Topeka). The Alpha of the pack didn't appreciate being caught in a common animal trap, making him look like a fool to his Betas. And he sure as hell didn't like being left out there until Ryan's "dear daddy" came back to put a bullet in his brain like he did to the pack's number three Beta last full moon. So he did Ryan the pleasure of informing him the pup would be taking the Beta's place. It was a rough crowd at first, but Ryan took to the job of being a Beta with natural ease. He wasn't able to watch the news and see the search effort his parents lead, but it was probably for the better. The bony, pimply faces on milk cartons and the cable networks were much more different than his new, muscular and lean look the wolf in him brought out. Maybe it was Stockholm Syndrome, or maybe it was just a new love for his supernatural life, but after the first year Ryan didn't think about reaching out to his family again. Probably for the best; his dad was crucified by the media as an irresponsible parent and locked up under suspicion of murdering his own son, and his mom offed herself not long after under the media scrutiny. After a few years, Ryan started to flex his legs and leverage his status as a dominant Beta for more freedom. The Topeka Alpha, Jared Wilks, resisted and kept Ryan on a tight leash to keep the Betas in line and prevent an insurrection, but when Mori the Alpha came to town, things changed right quick. She ran with Topeka for a couple of days before realizing what was going on: a pack with twenty wolves wasn't the norm in her travels. Jared added a new wolf to his pack every year, while another easily wouldn't live through the change. Mori saw this wasn't going to last forever- sooner or later a Hunter would catch on and come to town and clean house. So she did the only sensible thing she could think of. She kicked the shit out of Jared and scattered the pack by force. Ryan, not sure what to do without his Alpha to follow, took to following Mori out West to Cali. Moving out to California, Ryan hasn't fully integrated with the new pack. He keeps to himself, working at the last bar in town, "The Backhouse," as a mixer. California hasn't been the land of milk and honey he hoped it would be, but he's started seeing a human by the name of Michael on his nights off. The budding relationship between Ryan and Michael is a source of potential conflict for the pack- Ryan hasn't told Michael what he does on his "Fishing Trips" during the full moon, and Ryan has gotten overly aggressive whenever the subject of turning Michael to keep pack secrecy has been brought up...</s> <\|message\|>Jesse Williams The sight of Anton and Carlson having a shout-level conversation was not the least bit surprising to Jess. It was a bit unfortunate still, as the alpha was one out of the two people in the pack she wasn't eager to have a physical confrontation with - she still maintained the required respect for their two leaders, most of the time. Getting them all angry and upset about herself was not a smart move, specifically so since Mori and Fay had so much advantageous tension going on between one another. "That should be enough for you. You can't take much abuse. I've seen it." Fay's voice finished Jess' train of thought and made her glare daggers at the blonde after a moment of surprise. She sure didn't see that blow coming her way. "What the fuck are you on about? Who gave you the right to meter paying customers intake, miss appletini?" Jesse didn't remember a single incident that the blondes statement could be referring to - being blessed with selective memory no doubt. She was half-aware that Fay probably just tried to push her buttons, but there was a certain sense of pride swelling up. Being called out like that in a public bar was a low blow. Jess worked hard for her reputation and didn't accept the omega tearing it down because she was butthurt over a rejection from some russian thug. She pushed the half-empty glass away from her, back to the person with the bottle in her bloody - for some reason - hands. Jess half rose from her chair, caught between getting proper upset with Fay and moving over to help Anton start a war. Both options had their advantages, both had a catch. While she knew arguing with the omega was no good and that she should by no means get provoked into throwing the first actual punch, she still lingered at the bar for a moment longer. In an unexpected and no doubt liquor-fueled turn of events, she put a hand on Kalibs shoulder. "I think you're right, Cal. She doesn't seem quite alright to me. Maybe someone should take that bottle o' Whisky from her."</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer "Y'know, that sounds like a good idea." The Californian said, the tiniest hint of a bite in his tone. "'Scuse me." He rolled on by, shaking Jesse's hand from his shoulder and taking with him the bottle from Fay and the glass of whiskey that was poured. "This isn't ours." With a raise of his eyebrows and a stained smile, indicating the two girls to stop trying to start something, he went over to the nice black-haired bartender and handed to her the bar's drinks. "Sorry about them, it's been a weird night." The apologetic tone of his voice was sincere as he fished out some more bills to pay for whatever Fay and Jesse had drank. Turning once again to his pack members, "Something is definitely up and we're leaving. I'll go get Anton. Can we save this for the apartments?" He didn't want an all-out fight happening right there behind the counter with innocent people hanging all around when there was more important things to do. "We can continue arguing until the second coming of Jesus but right now we should start heading home." As he took his leave of them, he quietly hoped that neither of the two would jump him in the night or something. Jesse was scary enough with her devil-may-care attitude and love for fights but adding Fay to the mix wasn't helping much either. He wanted to be friends with his fellow wolves but if they kept trying to incite something, then something had to be done. He went to aid Carlson in his endeavor to have Anton stop drinking. The incident with Anton had happened before Kalib had joined the pack and at first he felt bad for Anton's situation, hoping maybe he could help her out one day. But since then he realized what was really up and now wanted all this stuff with Anton to stop because that is no way to move on.</s> <\|message\|>Carlson Jakes Carlson Carlson turned to Kalib, and firmly stated - seeming to ignore Anton's whining and insubordinace "Kalib, get Anton back to the apartments. I am done dealing with her like a whining child." He said evenly, and with purpose. He had more important things to do, and he quickly realized that Anton's alcohol issue was not his problem- not right now anyway. He then, finally, turned to Stiofan "Don't follow them, Stephen, please" He requested "I will gather the Omegas tomorrow and draw up a battle plan of sorts. I don't like this just as much as you don't.... also, I want you there at the Omega meeting, is that clear?" Nanix Nanix grabbed Anton's arm "Who the HELL do you think you are?? That broken bottle is gonna come right out of my paycheck you twit!" She was not above yelling, like Carlson was, and she certainly was ready to kick Anton out.</s> <\|message\|>Anthar "Shadow Bolt" Raclaw Wow, this is going surprisingly well! He had very little experience with women, since life as a hunter does not leave much time for leisure. Anthar put on his best smile, trying not to look nervous and said: "That is why I came here after all. And I won't mind sharing my drink with a pretty lady like yourself!" He noticed her eyeing his muscular torso. That is one of the perks of being a werewolf hunter. He opened the door to the bar, and held it open for her, remembering the laws of etiquette. The moment he opened the door, the raucous sound of yelling came rushing out at him. There was a strong smell of alcohol and he could see blood drops all over the floor. The place was full of people, mostly between the ages of 20 and 30, and they all seemed to be angry. This isn't how I remember bars looking like. He didn't see anyone he knew inside. Not that he was surprised, he was new to this town, but anyway he had already found someone to talk to, or so it would seem.</s> <\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Mori Mori's mind was running a million miles a minute, trying to figure out whether this guy was a hunter in disguise, or was he just a random guy, wanting nothing but to get into some woman's pants. Either way, she decided to play it safe. As a woman she didn't care much for romance or male chivalry, so she'd never expect any man to hold the door for her the way this stranger did. Not really knowing how to respond, she just smiled akwardly, and stepped inside the bar, where chaos still persisted. At that point, Mori haven't had a plan yet as what to do with a possible hunter by her side, but she figured it would be better to handle things by herself. By the looks of it, she couldn't rely on anyone from her pack at that moment, because they all seemed to be busy with either Anton's or Fay's trouble-making. But still, she should at least tell someone of her intentions. ''Hey, I'm going to get us a bottle, and then we can head somewhere more quiet than this. There's a free storage room near the toilettes. I'm sure nobody will disturb us there,'' Mori purred with a seductive voice, she didn't knew she had up to that point, and winked at him. She then turned around, and almost throw up a little in her mouth, being disgusted by this whole flirting thing. She walked toward the bar, completely ignoring everything that was going on there, including Fay and her raging. She again approached Kalib, who seemed a bit confused, and frustrated, probably by the fact that no one was listening to him. ''Calib,'' she called for him. ''Change of plans. We are staying. I think we have a hunter in our midst. I'm going to go check him out. Privately. Inform Carlson. Be ready if something goes wrong,'' she instructed him quickly, while grabbing the first bottle of alcohol she could reach. She then took a walk back to her date, took his hand and pulled him toward the toilettes.</s>	<\|message\|>Ryan Jameson Dammit all, but he hated Pack Night. Anton always got completely knocked off her rocker, the place became a mess, and Ryan had to leave early with everyone (full moon and all that), leaving Avery to clean up after this pack of mutts. Ryan had been able to mitigate this mess by hiding Anton's "jet fuel" vodka in a separate cooler from the rest of the hard stuff. He couldn't NOT sell to The Backhouse's most lucrative customer, but Mori's dislike of the hard drinking was well known. So Ryan took the initiative in hiding the heavy stuff in the meat locker. It was all well and good until his phone started buzzing. Michael. "Hey babe! What's up?" "Hey hon, just calling to let you know I can't find the house key, so the front door is going to be unlocked. That cool?" Not in the slightest. Aside from the usual home invaders, Ryan had a nasty feeling that, tonight of all nights, they needed to lock up the house. But he couldn't force Michael to stay home all night, not with his boyfriend already pissed and suspicious about the "Fishing trip" tonight. "Yeah babe. That's cool. I'll call one of the neighbors and ask them to keep an eye on the place." Of course, there was a loud crash of glass on hard floor, along with Anton's cursing from the regular booze cooler. Dammit all to hell! "Listen babe, gotta go- I love you!" "Bye." Great. Not even an 'I love you too.' He was in deep this time. Ryan snagged two bottle of jet fuel and hoofed it out of the freezer, shutting and locking the door behind him. He'd get to the broken glass later, but as he made it back behind the bar it dawned on him how packed the place had become. Full house- humans and wolves. Pretty soon the kitchen would be running orders out too. "Anton," he said, putting one bottle on the counter and another behind it. "This is your cutoff point. Just for making a mess in the back I'll have to clean up." Without another word, Ryan passed the second bottle of Jet Fuel to Mori. If the human didn't know what the stuff was, he'd get wasted in no time and not know which way was up. Mori would know how dangerous the stuff was to one's liver and tongue just from dealing with Anton. Leaning in to Mori, he said "Boss, I, ah, I'm gonna be late tonight. Michael lost his house key. Gotta lock up before group meeting."</s>
<\|description\|>Avery ~°~°~ Age Twenty-Five ~°~°~ Appearance Avery is a natural brunnette with long flowing hair. Her lips are a nice color of pink, although they are thin. She has grey eyes and healthy, smooth skin. She stands at 5'8 and weighs about 120lbs. You will find Avery wearing a lot of tank tops, jeans, and all around casual clothes. She has a few piercings here and there, one on her belly button that she always wears, and another on her nose which she prefers to keep out. If you manage to sneak a peek at her body, you'll see a tattoo on her ribs, saying 'Be the one to guide me, but never hold me down.' ~°~°~ Human, Werewolf, Or Hunter? Avery is an average human being, with little to lose. ~°~°~ What Is Your Life Like? Avery lives a simple life that no one else would trade for. Though she was given away and treated roughly, she has always managed to smile through her pain and has tried to be a social person. ~°~°~ History Avery was born to two rough parents. Her mom would tell her almost every day how she was a mistake, and her father would ignore her all together. She grew up in solitude, never really getting attached to anyone around her, which proved to be a good thing later in life. At the age of sixteen, Avery's parents put her up for adoption, in a small orphanage that was full of younger children. Since Avery was so old compared to the others, she never managed to get adopted, and at the age of eighteen she was kicked out of the orphanage with little money and no place to go. In the span of two years, she managed to stand on her own two feet, with a small job as a waitress and a rented apartment she called 'home'. She never tried to settle down with anyone, always deciding that if she did, she would end up getting hurt. So she tried to stay as secluded as possible, without as many friends as she wanted. Lately, Avery has been paying more attention to the conversations going on in the restaurant, because more people have been coming in for a warm place to stay. She's snuck past tables, hearing whispers from men and women about "Dangers in the night," and "dog attacks." Avery has always been rather curious about these sorts of conversations, and she finds herself thinking about them late at night. It was interesting how people would talk in hushed tones, and then when she came to take their orders they would be all loud and awkward. She was starting to piece little bits of information together, but she didn't want to seem crazy, and never talked about it with the few friends she had. Relationships Fayth: Avery works at the same restaurant as Fayth Morrow, and is kind of concerned about her clumsy attitude. They pull night shifts together, and yet they never hang out exclusively. Werewolves in general: Avery works at the bar where all the wolves gather, and She has noticed that before every full moon, the same group comes down to the bar.</s> <\|message\|>Stíofán ó Faoláin (English: Stephen Whelan) Stíofán ó Faoláin It was the last night before the full moon, and Stephen walked down the stairs of the block of flats that all of the werewolves lived in, and strolled down the road. It was beginning to get dark, and soon there would be a slight chill in the air. This is normal for Greyville, however, and Stephen liked this. It reminded him of home, back in Ireland. He continued down the road until he got to the pub, the last one in Greyville in fact, The Backhouse. All of the werewolves liked to go here on the last night before the full moon. They wouldn't be able to have much to drink tomorrow night, so they drank tonight to make up for it. Stephen walked into the pub, and looked around. He was the first of the werewolves there, as per usual. The rest of them had family to say goodbye to, or some work to do, or something like that. Stephen didn't have any of this. He didn't have a wife or children to say goodbye to, and legally, he wasn't a US citizen, so he couldn't get a job. He didn't want to risk applying for a work visa and being deported because he was here illegally. There was no police station in Greyville, and the police who were supposed to patrol the town rarely came, anyway. Stephen found a relatively dark area of the pub, he didn't really feel like speaking to anyone, and sat down. He'd wait for a few more werewolves to come in before he ordered a drink, and perhaps he'd get drunk enough to feel like striking up a conversation with someone.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir ~Anton~ Anton looked up at the moon - it was almost full. Pulling on her jacket, she edged into the darkness beyond her apartment door. She could hear other people (probably werewolves) saying goodbye to family and friends, and sighed. As she walked down the stairs a few fellow werewolves gave her dirty looks; she gave them straight back. She felt like getting drunk. Too drunk. The drink would drown all her sorrows, like being demoted, her friend loss, everything. Besides, the more she drank, the less discomfort she would feel tomorrow. As Anton walked into the cool night air, she could (with her developed senses) smell someone lurking in the shadows. She pretended not to notice them, then turned around and pounced. Her face connected with the pavement. 'Ah.' she thought, when her eyes met with a squirrel. Maybe she was losing her touch. Heading towards the bar, she could swear she smelled an unpleasant human scent. Anton walked in the bar. "Gimme a round o' Fireside Flamers - mostly wine, yeah?" she ordered at the barmaid. She could see a fellow beta wolf, Stephen, lurking in a corner. She gave him a small salute and, grinning, yelled behind her, "And an extra strong vodka!"</s> <\|message\|>Ryan Jameson "What time do you think you're going to be back tonight?" Goddammit, Ryan knew he was going to ask that question. And the worst part was, he heard the change in Michael's voice on the other side of the phone when he asked it. The upbeat chattery voice he'd had a moment ago when discussing his latest art project at the Community College was gone. Ryan could see him now, his face tinged with paint, tanned skin smudged with red and white and blue, pacing in front of a canvas barefoot and shirtless while he stood on a white sheet in their loft. Now Michael sounded like he was treading eggshells. Or broken glass. Ryan had to take a very loud pull on his cigarette to buy himself a moment to think. The Monthly Pack meetings were a necessity. Not just because of his status as a Beta, but it was a condition for his moving in with Michael. Bad enough he felt like he'd abandoned one family to start another, but Michael was definitely suspicious about the "fishing trips" he went on every month. "I, ah, won't be back until morning," Ryan said cautiously. "Group meeting, you know? We're going down to the river to catch trout." Silence. "Right," Michael said. "Trout." "Or whatever we can catch. Fish is fish." Please don't get pissed. Please don't get pissed! "Whatever. Call me when you get back. I'll probly be over in Portside getting my gallery showing set up." Click. 'I'll be there for the gallery!' was on the tip of Ryan's tongue when Michael hung up. But that was that. Ryan shut his phone down, tossed the cigarette against the back wall of the building, and shuffled back inside through the kitchen. He wanted to hit someone. Something. He couldn't help feeling pissed at Michael for not giving him one night a month to be himself. At the same time, he was completely pissed at himself for not telling Michael the truth. It wasn't a guarantee that Michael would run for the hills screaming if he knew Ryan was one level above an "extreme closet Furry" as he'd once put it. But it WAS a guarantee that he'd be forced into their club if he found out what Ryan moonlighted as. There was no dancing around that fine line. So Ryan kept lying to Michael about fishing trips, despite never buying a pole or tackle ever ("The club has extras, so why spend the money?") and always bringing home stuff from the Market ("No bights last night, babe. But I'll make you dinner!") The whole reason Ryan kept lying to Michael was to give himself a taste of the real world. What his life might have been like if Topeka hadn't happened. He was getting the full package of human relationships now- especially the "lying to one's spouse about some deep dark secret" thing. At the bar, Michael spotted Stephen hiding in the corner and instinctively poured him a cold PBR, sliding it to one of the servers to send his way. When Anton showed up and asked for her Fireside Flamers, Ryan had to roll his eyes. He popped open a bottle of California red, then opened an underside fridge where he kept "the good stuff" chilled. The bottle of vodka he pulled out was on special order for Anton A.) because it was $70 a bottle and B.) because she was the only person in this state crazy enough to drink it. All the other vodkas he kept were way too weak in her opinion, and she'd let Ryan know. "Anton, you know this stuff is practically jet fuel, yeah?"</s> <\|message\|>Carlson Jakes Carlson The night was young, and so were most of the betas. That was sort of a reminder to Carlson as he slipped on his jacket to head to the bar. He had to make sure no one got too drunk to where they started something- he couldn't afford to pay the bar's owner again. A lot of his Omega's decide to rest these days, but there was bound to be a few at the bar to assist him. He slinked in, and sat at the bar, just ordering a lager. He would not get drunk tonight, so this would be all he'd get. He prayed he wouldn't be breaking up any fights tonight. Looking over at the barrister, who he'd told Stiofan to scope out as a potential new member- perhaps they'd even train together as Omegas if Carlson could get things going his way. Nanix Tonight was going to be busy as hell. It always is, once a month. The day varies but its almost always before the full moon. Why? Nanix had no idea, but any excuse to see and chat with the irish guy who always came in was good enough for her. She cleaned a few glasses before people started coming in, and wiped down the bar as patron's sat. She served swiftly- not having to make anything frilly helped, and she tried not to visibly perk up when Stiofan entered. She waited for him to get situated before taking a breath and walking over to him. "Hey there, what cna I get you?"</s>	<\|message\|>Avery Avery walked slowly down to the bar, looking at unfamiliar faces on the way there. Tonight was usually the bar's biggest rush. A group always came in, the day before the full moon. They were such frequents, Avery had marked each of these days on the bar's calendar as RUSH. She walked into the bar from the back, heading through the area where bottles and ingredients were stored. She picked a few bottles out of the fray, knowing some of the favorites their frequents had, and with a small bounty in her hands, she headed into the front room. She saw Ryan, and smiled weakly at him. "Ryan, is the special up on the chalkboard yet?" Her voice was frail and polite, her eyes looked like they had been fully bloodshot just moments ago. She set the bottles under the bar, and fingered each one, counting them. Then, on the far corner of the bar, Avery found her apron. She tied it around her waist, and checked each pocket to make sure she had her tools. Then she walked through the small side door labeled employees only, and went out to take guests orders. Like any waitress, she worked for her tip. She talked casually to all the patrons in the bar, smiling and laughing along with them. She didn't judge people, and when they were looking glum she asked what their problems were. She did this all around the bar. Dancing between tables and the kitchen and the bar, asking for drinks, preparing meals when she had the time, and giving people the special treatment. All the while she had questions floating in her head, who are these people really? Why am I so nice, but I never get any friends? Why am I so lonely? Yet, she still did her job with a smile that never seemed to falter.</s>
<\|description\|>Dimitri Kozlov Age: 23 Appearance: Dimitri is a tall, muscular young man, his physique stream-lined and chiseled from years upon years of arduous training and physical exercise. His face is considered 'handsome', with a clearly defined jawline, and strong cheekbones. A minor scuffle could be seen dusting his face, a natural dirty blonde, the exact same as his hair - which is naturally cut short to his head, to avoid anyone gripping it in a fight. His eyes, however, are a dark blue, almost appearing black in different pieces of sunlight. Multiple long, pale scars on evident on his torso and back, with the most prominent one being the three deep, jagged marks scraping across his chest and down his abs. Generally wears a thick, form-fitting, dark-colored long-sleeved shirt, rugged jeans, and combat boots, along with a leather jacket thrown over it, sewn in with Kevlar. Can never be too careful, and he's pretty used to cold and hot temps. Species/Occupation: Human/Hunter Background: Dimitri was born in Moscow, Russia, underneath two war-weathered parents; Aleksandr Kozlov, and Marie Kozlov. His father was a veteran from the Spetznaz forces, while his mother was a former soldier in the Marines, having been honorably discharged after a grenade ended with her left arm being torn to shreds. How the two managed to find love in each other, Dimitri would never know; while his father was strict, gruff, cold, and incredibly ruthless in the training of Dimitri, his mother was soft, kind, and gentle, always there with warm treats and cold bottles of water. That's another thing...his training. Aleksandr Kozlov was both a Spetznaz veteran, and a former Werewolf-Hunter, having to retire from both due to old age, and PTSD. While this made the man quite brutal, it also made him force Dimitri to follow into his footsteps - and not for a bad reason, either. Werewolves - specifically, feral ones - were dangerous, this Dimitri knew from a young age. At first, up to the age of seven, he didn't know what he was training for. His father always made him do pushups, squats, and sprints down the snow-frozen road whenever he was awake and not eating/hydrating, always stopping and limiting the repetitions so that it was just under enough to not have any effect on Dimitri's physical growth. Weapons training and close quarters combat had already began, back when he was six. Pistols, assault rifles, shotguns...he was a crackshot, naturally skilled in any firearm that was brought before him. Obviously, he was kept to smaller, less destructive weaponry, as his relatively small stature - albeit big for his age - would make it incredibly difficult and inefficient to train with. Krav Maga; it's basic stances and attacks were taught to him as his 'main' chosen fighting style, although it was more along the lines of his father forcing it upon him. When he turned eight, he was brought on his first 'mock mission', which wasn't a mock mission at all. His father had tracked down a wandering, feral werewolf that preyed on cattle and smaller children that would wander away from their parents, in the park. Seeing his father rip open the werewolf's chest, and give him the silver knife...Dimitri was confused. Sorely confused. But when he saw the corpses of the children, he plunged the dagger down without hesitation. That was the start. Years passed, and Dimitri was trained with the brutality of a Demon from hell. He became an immensely capable marksman, a master of Krav Maga, and extremely competent and lethal when it came to the art of fighting with melee weapons - he began taking Werewolf Hunting missions at the age of twelve, going for the Werewolves that was blatantly harming others due to lack of mental awareness, or general insanity and love for violence. Life continued on like this, with Dimitri becoming a strong, intelligent, brave young man that did what he had to do in his forced line of work. His mother had passed away due to an illness - something that affected Dimitri greatly, and seemed to inspire his father's fiery ire even more. Finally, the man keeled over from a stress-filled cardiac arrest, on Dimitri's twentieth birthday. Ever since then, Dimitri has been travelling the globe, always on the case whenever reports of wild werewolf attacks sprung up, or whenever mysterious sightings or murders breezed the grapevine. Relationships: Thomas Young...Dimitri's partner. They met in Alaska, while Dimitri was hunting a group of feral Werewolves. It was an...interesting predicament, with Thomas managing to stop Dimitri from executing an innocent female Werewolf that had been planning on escaping her wild, out of controlled friends. Yvette was picked up, as his second partner, as they were leaving the frozen state. It snowballed from there.</s> <\|message\|>Carlson Jakes Carlson The night was young, and so were most of the betas. That was sort of a reminder to Carlson as he slipped on his jacket to head to the bar. He had to make sure no one got too drunk to where they started something- he couldn't afford to pay the bar's owner again. A lot of his Omega's decide to rest these days, but there was bound to be a few at the bar to assist him. He slinked in, and sat at the bar, just ordering a lager. He would not get drunk tonight, so this would be all he'd get. He prayed he wouldn't be breaking up any fights tonight. Looking over at the barrister, who he'd told Stiofan to scope out as a potential new member- perhaps they'd even train together as Omegas if Carlson could get things going his way. Nanix Tonight was going to be busy as hell. It always is, once a month. The day varies but its almost always before the full moon. Why? Nanix had no idea, but any excuse to see and chat with the irish guy who always came in was good enough for her. She cleaned a few glasses before people started coming in, and wiped down the bar as patron's sat. She served swiftly- not having to make anything frilly helped, and she tried not to visibly perk up when Stiofan entered. She waited for him to get situated before taking a breath and walking over to him. "Hey there, what cna I get you?"</s> <\|message\|>Avery Avery walked slowly down to the bar, looking at unfamiliar faces on the way there. Tonight was usually the bar's biggest rush. A group always came in, the day before the full moon. They were such frequents, Avery had marked each of these days on the bar's calendar as RUSH. She walked into the bar from the back, heading through the area where bottles and ingredients were stored. She picked a few bottles out of the fray, knowing some of the favorites their frequents had, and with a small bounty in her hands, she headed into the front room. She saw Ryan, and smiled weakly at him. "Ryan, is the special up on the chalkboard yet?" Her voice was frail and polite, her eyes looked like they had been fully bloodshot just moments ago. She set the bottles under the bar, and fingered each one, counting them. Then, on the far corner of the bar, Avery found her apron. She tied it around her waist, and checked each pocket to make sure she had her tools. Then she walked through the small side door labeled employees only, and went out to take guests orders. Like any waitress, she worked for her tip. She talked casually to all the patrons in the bar, smiling and laughing along with them. She didn't judge people, and when they were looking glum she asked what their problems were. She did this all around the bar. Dancing between tables and the kitchen and the bar, asking for drinks, preparing meals when she had the time, and giving people the special treatment. All the while she had questions floating in her head, who are these people really? Why am I so nice, but I never get any friends? Why am I so lonely? Yet, she still did her job with a smile that never seemed to falter.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir ~Anton~ Anton, piercing Ryan with a stony glare, yelled (clearly already drunk), "In your opinion!" She wrenched her vodka from his hands, pouring in three Fireside Flamers and the vodka in at once. She gave a high-pitch laugh, and glugged down the rest of her drinks. Licking her lips - and wiggling her eyebrows at Ryan - she ordered their strongest Vodka. But why bother? It was like the weakest thing Anton had ever had. That's why she ordered so much. She slunk out of sight from Carlson, wishing she had done this while drinking the Vodka from Ryan. As she downed the rest of the super weak Vodka, she slunk away to the girl's toilets. As Anton made her way into the toilet, she puked straight away. Bawling her eyes out, she poured the remains of the alcohol down the toilet u-bend - unluckily forgetting to flush.</s>	<\|message\|>Dimitri Kozlov He had been expecting it, honestly. The man had been expecting the anonymously scouted Werewolf cavern to be...stank, but this was a bit above what he had previously assumed. A figure stood in the dark of the forest, dark blue - or were they black, eyes narrowed as he peered into the lip of a shady, unassuming cave. On the cave's entrance, deep claw marks grazed along the rock, apparently by razor-sharp wolf nails, but this wasn't what made him pause. No...it was the pure amount of stink that came out of the cave. It smelled...like wet, furry dog, a dog that had been decomposing in the desert sun for the past few months, without disintegrating. There was also the smell of shit, piss, and blood, but the blood seemed fresh, while the other scents were stale. Stale, but still there. The figure twitched, and finally got the feeling of his nose back into place. The figure was tall, a bit taller than most Americans, with a muscular build, even obvious from under the dark clothing he wore. The clothing was tough; a form-fitting, long-sleeved black shirt, black gloves, dark, rugged jeans, and dark brown combat boots that held two straps on both sides, the long, metal hilt of two knives evident in the straps. A studded belt was wrapped around his waist, and it held numerous, compact black pouches on each loop; although, what was in the pouches, was a mystery. The man's face held the scruffy remains of a shaven beard, and his close-cutted, dark blonde hair blended in well with his surroundings. In his gloved right fist, he held a razor-sharp, jagged combat knife, the silver metal of the knife not even glinting in the moonlight, while, in his right hand, a dark black pistol was evident. His eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses, and although most would make a snarky, annoying joke about wearing sunglasses at night, these sunglasses obviously had multiple uses, the most prominent one being that it allowed him to see as clear as day, even in the night. Not to mention that it hid his eyes, allowing him to stare and focus on things/people without anyone seeing. The man gripped his combat knife tighter, while his finger edged over the trigger of his pistol. He took a glance at the motorcycle, practically invisible in the darkness, hidden nearby. Without a second thought, he silently dashed into the cave. _______________________________________ Werewolves were strong beings, but wild, unrefined...and generally unskilled. Dimitri cleanly slammed a stone-hard fore-arm against the snarling wolf's swing, his arm wrapping around the other beast's arm, while his knife-hand darted forward, the silver, razor-sharp blade easily tearing through fur and flesh to reach deep within the beast's heart. Kicking it away, the Russian Hunter watched dispassionately as the beastial wolf slowly formed back into the dead, wild form of a hairy, dirty man. This pack of wolves, hidden in the forest and mountains near Greyville, was one of the disgusting packs that preyed on innocent humans for no reason, other than their maddening lust for food, glory, and worthlessness. All around him, in one of the cave's stony areas, the bodies of gutted, stabbed, and generally dead werewolves littered the floor. Gas was slick on the stone ground, and as Dimitri began to walk away, one hand in his pocket, the Hunter flicked his cigarette - a guilty, once a month pleasure - and sped up slightly as it landed in the gas. The rev of a sleek motorcycle blasted through the mountains, as the cave collapsed in on itself, the fire having spread to take over the rocky maze.</s>
<\|description\|>Dimitri Kozlov Age: 23 Appearance: Dimitri is a tall, muscular young man, his physique stream-lined and chiseled from years upon years of arduous training and physical exercise. His face is considered 'handsome', with a clearly defined jawline, and strong cheekbones. A minor scuffle could be seen dusting his face, a natural dirty blonde, the exact same as his hair - which is naturally cut short to his head, to avoid anyone gripping it in a fight. His eyes, however, are a dark blue, almost appearing black in different pieces of sunlight. Multiple long, pale scars on evident on his torso and back, with the most prominent one being the three deep, jagged marks scraping across his chest and down his abs. Generally wears a thick, form-fitting, dark-colored long-sleeved shirt, rugged jeans, and combat boots, along with a leather jacket thrown over it, sewn in with Kevlar. Can never be too careful, and he's pretty used to cold and hot temps. Species/Occupation: Human/Hunter Background: Dimitri was born in Moscow, Russia, underneath two war-weathered parents; Aleksandr Kozlov, and Marie Kozlov. His father was a veteran from the Spetznaz forces, while his mother was a former soldier in the Marines, having been honorably discharged after a grenade ended with her left arm being torn to shreds. How the two managed to find love in each other, Dimitri would never know; while his father was strict, gruff, cold, and incredibly ruthless in the training of Dimitri, his mother was soft, kind, and gentle, always there with warm treats and cold bottles of water. That's another thing...his training. Aleksandr Kozlov was both a Spetznaz veteran, and a former Werewolf-Hunter, having to retire from both due to old age, and PTSD. While this made the man quite brutal, it also made him force Dimitri to follow into his footsteps - and not for a bad reason, either. Werewolves - specifically, feral ones - were dangerous, this Dimitri knew from a young age. At first, up to the age of seven, he didn't know what he was training for. His father always made him do pushups, squats, and sprints down the snow-frozen road whenever he was awake and not eating/hydrating, always stopping and limiting the repetitions so that it was just under enough to not have any effect on Dimitri's physical growth. Weapons training and close quarters combat had already began, back when he was six. Pistols, assault rifles, shotguns...he was a crackshot, naturally skilled in any firearm that was brought before him. Obviously, he was kept to smaller, less destructive weaponry, as his relatively small stature - albeit big for his age - would make it incredibly difficult and inefficient to train with. Krav Maga; it's basic stances and attacks were taught to him as his 'main' chosen fighting style, although it was more along the lines of his father forcing it upon him. When he turned eight, he was brought on his first 'mock mission', which wasn't a mock mission at all. His father had tracked down a wandering, feral werewolf that preyed on cattle and smaller children that would wander away from their parents, in the park. Seeing his father rip open the werewolf's chest, and give him the silver knife...Dimitri was confused. Sorely confused. But when he saw the corpses of the children, he plunged the dagger down without hesitation. That was the start. Years passed, and Dimitri was trained with the brutality of a Demon from hell. He became an immensely capable marksman, a master of Krav Maga, and extremely competent and lethal when it came to the art of fighting with melee weapons - he began taking Werewolf Hunting missions at the age of twelve, going for the Werewolves that was blatantly harming others due to lack of mental awareness, or general insanity and love for violence. Life continued on like this, with Dimitri becoming a strong, intelligent, brave young man that did what he had to do in his forced line of work. His mother had passed away due to an illness - something that affected Dimitri greatly, and seemed to inspire his father's fiery ire even more. Finally, the man keeled over from a stress-filled cardiac arrest, on Dimitri's twentieth birthday. Ever since then, Dimitri has been travelling the globe, always on the case whenever reports of wild werewolf attacks sprung up, or whenever mysterious sightings or murders breezed the grapevine. Relationships: Thomas Young...Dimitri's partner. They met in Alaska, while Dimitri was hunting a group of feral Werewolves. It was an...interesting predicament, with Thomas managing to stop Dimitri from executing an innocent female Werewolf that had been planning on escaping her wild, out of controlled friends. Yvette was picked up, as his second partner, as they were leaving the frozen state. It snowballed from there.</s> <\|message\|>Jesse Williams Where other members of the pack left their respective home or flat, giving their families the good-bye-smooch or some such nonsense, Jesse kicked her door close, leaving nothing behind but a messy, lifeless apartment. Reeking of copulation and the feral smell one would know from animal cages at the zoo. But ultimately, it was devoid of life today. It was rather usual for the fine lady Williams to kick temporary lovers out of her lair without mercy for their bodily well-being nor the accepted noise level of the block, though not today. She left on her own, in what one would call 'good' mood, wearing nothing less than brass knuckles on her right hand like shiny, sparkly jewelry. She passed a few others on the path down the stairway, gracefully ignoring their presence, uncaring wether or not they looked at her with hostility (that would be other wolves) or awe (as did the few human inhabitants of the building). She made her way out on the streets, bouncing rather than walking. It was the night before the night, and though the bar would be crowded with canines, it was a promising night for lovers of a good scuffle. About twenty minutes later, Jesse arrived at the bar. The acute observer would notice a time loss of about ten minutes, walking the distance from her apartment to the establishment, however. A fresh bundle of bank notes in her pocket as well as a few splatters of blood adorning her knuckle dusters and right arm implied the cause of her delay. Being without a steady income, the woman had to 'make' some money every now and then, and the unlucky victim of tonight was a semi-professional dealer trying to make some quick cash on her route to the pub. What the poor guy forgot to consider when picking a police-free neighbourhood was the better-than-average sense of smell a handful of people around here had, something that came incredibly handy when looking for a quick 'money dispenser'. After a quick 'chat' with the gentleman that thoroughly convinced him to avoid this area of Greyville in the future, Jesse arrived at the bar, quickly letting her blood-covered weapon disappear in the pockets of her sleeveless hoodie. She cared enough to superficially wipe the clearly visible blood on her arm away, leaving some less noticeable but still hardly secreted smears. Upon entering with an utterly amused expression - the evening started fairly entertaining after all - she sought a place at the counter, avoiding the general 'pack corner'. For her it was more fun to converse with the clueless human customers anyway, and that lessened the chances for a brawl with the other wolves too. Not that she was eager to avoid such a thing, but pretending to always looked better in the eyes of the alphas. Her choice of a seat was strategically closer to Avery than to Ryan. Unsurprisingly, she addressed the human when issuing her first order of the night. "Hey sweety, how about you pour me some vodka? Make it the good 'ol cheap stuff, alright?" Jesse wasn't the kind to ask for expensive stuff. Heck, she hardly ever had enough money on her to pay the tab after a night of drinking cheap shit. Living at the low end of low makes you numb enough to not care, though.</s> <\|message\|>Ryan Jameson Pounding the door until he heard the toilet flush was a good way to persuade Anton to actually flush her sick down. A single stall ladies room was within state regulations for a place this size, but only just. So when Anton opened up for Ryan, he was swinging so fast that he fell forward, spinning on his heel just in time to catch himself before clipping his face on the porcelain sink. "Christ Anton, you blew through that stuff, puke it down, then want more? If you weren't... well, you, then I'd say you're looking at killing your liver." Ryan knew for a fact, however, that there was no more of the 'Jet Fuel' behind the bar to be had. He'd have to go to the cooler for more. "Avery? Can you take over for me while I get more J-F for Anton? Thanks lovely!"</s> <\|message\|>Avery Avery wrote the special on the chalkboard after she went through her rounds, and as she did, she considered Ryan's questions. He had left before she could answer him, but she was glad for that. She didn't really have a relationship, but she wondered what would happen if she did. She knew how she would treat her boyfriend if she had one, and so she used her own advice to help Ryan. She didn't see him at the bar though. Strange, Avery thought. That was until she daw Ryan. He stood at the girls bathroom door, trying to communicate with someone on the inside. She sighed, and went into the back to prepare a hot herbal tea. Before she could though, she saw a blonde drawing all the attention, and smiled lightly. It was Fayth, and though Avery didn't know exactly how that girl made it in the world, she was kind of happy to see her. Fayth was always bright and bubbly. She heard Fayth call for her usual, and nodded. "Got it Fayth! It'll be there in a second." Then she heard another woman, and turned towards the voice with a curt nod. "On it." She rushed towards the bar, and looked under the counter for the vodka. She pulled out one of the cheaper brands, with a strong smell and a light kick. She poured it straight into a glass and sent it the lady's way. She took a chilled martini glass out of the freezer behind the bar, and grabbed the shaker on the way. She poured in some ice, some sour apple schnapps, vodka, and a sweet and sour mix. The whole concoction was very fruity, and it seemed like the perfect drink for Fayth. The mixture was soon shaken to perfection, and Avery poured it into the glass. She added a small black straw and two small cherries struck through with a plastic sword to mix, and started to bring it to the Fayth. "Fayth! Nice to see you!" Avery said, setting down the appletini and smiling brightly. "What are you doing out around here? I thought it was your day off!"</s>	<\|message\|>Dimitri Kozlov The forceful wind pushed back against his hair and face, sending the short, dirty blonde locks backwards, but his sunglasses kept the wind from affecting his vision, allowing Dimitri to see ahead of him without any problems. His face was taut into a tight smirk, the wind nearly searing his skin with pure heat, but Dimitri's tough skin was used to biting, sharp cold, and extremely hot, sweaty climates, so this wasn't bad. Going 201 mph on his Suzuki Hayabusa, Dimitri loved this sort of adrenaline....everything moved by in a blur as he blazed a sparking, fiery trail down the mountain's long road, body spring-loaded and tense as he smoothly, sharply made a turn that sent him drifting on the curve, the back of his tire nearly touching the safety-gate that, if it hadn't been there, would probably have sent him flying off the mountain, into the forest below. Only the pure agilty and speed of his quick turning and his whip-smart brain allowed him to make the drift, and as the headlights of a nearby truck began shining in his direction, Dimitri steadily dropped his speed to a lower, but still dangerously fast, 94mph. The sound of his phone vibrating forced the hunter to lower his speed even more. At this point, Greyville was evident in the distance, and soon enough, he'd be on a high-population street, so he wouldn't even be able to go full speed. Keeping one hand on the gas and steering wheel, he opened up the text, reading it quickly. A smirk formed on his face. Yvette...a bar, hm? Probably the one that often times had an annoying lady that screamed and drank a lot of vodka, along with what seemed like the same group of people each, and every time. He had a nagging suspicion that something was going on there, but for now, it was more like a group of friends, than something more sinister. Putting his motorcycle back into gear, Dimitri gassed the engine. __________________ The tall man entered the bar, his dark, dirty blonde hair still rather wind-swept. Through the window, one could see the sleek, powerful black motorcycle that he had just parked outside, chained to the ground, and with small, unnoticeable silver spikes sticking out of the seat. The man glanced around once, gloved hands resting in the pockets of his leather jacket, before he caught sight of Yvette. Sitting down beside the other Hunter, Dimitri glanced up at a waitress, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. "A glass of water." He spoke up. His voice was deep, and rather accented with a noticeably Russian accent. He took off his sunglasses, exposing dark blue eyes, before pressing his gloved fingers against his temple. "A bar, girly?" The question was directed towards the smaller figure sitting beside him.</s>
<\|description\|>Dimitri Kozlov Age: 23 Appearance: Dimitri is a tall, muscular young man, his physique stream-lined and chiseled from years upon years of arduous training and physical exercise. His face is considered 'handsome', with a clearly defined jawline, and strong cheekbones. A minor scuffle could be seen dusting his face, a natural dirty blonde, the exact same as his hair - which is naturally cut short to his head, to avoid anyone gripping it in a fight. His eyes, however, are a dark blue, almost appearing black in different pieces of sunlight. Multiple long, pale scars on evident on his torso and back, with the most prominent one being the three deep, jagged marks scraping across his chest and down his abs. Generally wears a thick, form-fitting, dark-colored long-sleeved shirt, rugged jeans, and combat boots, along with a leather jacket thrown over it, sewn in with Kevlar. Can never be too careful, and he's pretty used to cold and hot temps. Species/Occupation: Human/Hunter Background: Dimitri was born in Moscow, Russia, underneath two war-weathered parents; Aleksandr Kozlov, and Marie Kozlov. His father was a veteran from the Spetznaz forces, while his mother was a former soldier in the Marines, having been honorably discharged after a grenade ended with her left arm being torn to shreds. How the two managed to find love in each other, Dimitri would never know; while his father was strict, gruff, cold, and incredibly ruthless in the training of Dimitri, his mother was soft, kind, and gentle, always there with warm treats and cold bottles of water. That's another thing...his training. Aleksandr Kozlov was both a Spetznaz veteran, and a former Werewolf-Hunter, having to retire from both due to old age, and PTSD. While this made the man quite brutal, it also made him force Dimitri to follow into his footsteps - and not for a bad reason, either. Werewolves - specifically, feral ones - were dangerous, this Dimitri knew from a young age. At first, up to the age of seven, he didn't know what he was training for. His father always made him do pushups, squats, and sprints down the snow-frozen road whenever he was awake and not eating/hydrating, always stopping and limiting the repetitions so that it was just under enough to not have any effect on Dimitri's physical growth. Weapons training and close quarters combat had already began, back when he was six. Pistols, assault rifles, shotguns...he was a crackshot, naturally skilled in any firearm that was brought before him. Obviously, he was kept to smaller, less destructive weaponry, as his relatively small stature - albeit big for his age - would make it incredibly difficult and inefficient to train with. Krav Maga; it's basic stances and attacks were taught to him as his 'main' chosen fighting style, although it was more along the lines of his father forcing it upon him. When he turned eight, he was brought on his first 'mock mission', which wasn't a mock mission at all. His father had tracked down a wandering, feral werewolf that preyed on cattle and smaller children that would wander away from their parents, in the park. Seeing his father rip open the werewolf's chest, and give him the silver knife...Dimitri was confused. Sorely confused. But when he saw the corpses of the children, he plunged the dagger down without hesitation. That was the start. Years passed, and Dimitri was trained with the brutality of a Demon from hell. He became an immensely capable marksman, a master of Krav Maga, and extremely competent and lethal when it came to the art of fighting with melee weapons - he began taking Werewolf Hunting missions at the age of twelve, going for the Werewolves that was blatantly harming others due to lack of mental awareness, or general insanity and love for violence. Life continued on like this, with Dimitri becoming a strong, intelligent, brave young man that did what he had to do in his forced line of work. His mother had passed away due to an illness - something that affected Dimitri greatly, and seemed to inspire his father's fiery ire even more. Finally, the man keeled over from a stress-filled cardiac arrest, on Dimitri's twentieth birthday. Ever since then, Dimitri has been travelling the globe, always on the case whenever reports of wild werewolf attacks sprung up, or whenever mysterious sightings or murders breezed the grapevine. Relationships: Thomas Young...Dimitri's partner. They met in Alaska, while Dimitri was hunting a group of feral Werewolves. It was an...interesting predicament, with Thomas managing to stop Dimitri from executing an innocent female Werewolf that had been planning on escaping her wild, out of controlled friends. Yvette was picked up, as his second partner, as they were leaving the frozen state. It snowballed from there.</s> <\|message\|>Thomas Young Thomas Gasping for air, Thomas had failed to execute the werewolf that he had been hunting, both of them trading blows, only for the werewolf to scamper away in the death of the night right before the killing blow. The traps he had set were faulty and didn't spring up in time, and he could only smile at this. The cool dead air of the night hit his face, taking a glance at his left arm, it was bleeding profusely, though this didn't pester him. Having a high pain tolerance is something basic for every hunter, otherwise you'd be dead from the outset. "Quick little bugger, managed to escape huh." he thought to himself. --- Eyeing a bar that he frequents in the city, Thomas liked the lively atmosphere of it, bar fights were common place too. With a grin, he entered the place with a ding, Arm still moderately bleeding, he had planned to go to the hospital to get it patched right up, but then eyed the bar and decided that, "Well, I mean the bar is closer to the hospital, a quick beer wouldn't hurt and it would probably numb the pain." he said to himself right after entering the door, walking up to a bar lady, he asked her for a quick beer, to which she nodded but became a bit wide eyed at the sight of his arm. "Ah this, well don't worry about it, the beer will numb it out. Haha" he said to her with an ear to ear smile. Walking around to find an empty location, gathering a few stares from the other patrons, he quickly found a seat. Thomas didn't notice but he was dropping bits of blood all over the place as he walked to the empty seat, afterwards he just sat there, leaned back looking at the ceiling letting the fatigue hit and simply waited for his beer to arrive.</s> <\|message\|>Carlson Jakes Carlson Seeing Anton already getting herself wasted made Carlson want to curl up on himself. She'd been doing this constantly, and he was finally fed up with it. He thought that she would mope around for a while, and then lift herself up again. But apparently that was giving her too much credit. He approached her at the bar, and put his hand down leaning slightly "You are done drinking" He said, very calmly. He wasn't about to start a scene. But he was about to stop her from drinking</s> <\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow When Jesse sat close to Fayth, only for a brief moment did Fayth drop the bubbly ditz appearance. On purpose. Not only to test Jesse and push her. But now that she knew Mori was here, it became more fun because she knew her ability to shift personalities so effortlessly could potentially put Morgana on even more edge. Fayth's cool, blue-eyed gaze wandered Jesse's body up and down. She caught the faint traces of drying blood on her. Not only that, she could smell it. And this close on the full moon, the faintest scent of blood sent a shiver shuddering down her spine. 'You're in control...' Fay would tell herself in her mind. Breathing deep. The beast is not you. As if trying to prevent a darker part of her self from coming out. Instead, Fay leaned over to Jesse and laid a gentle hand on her arm. With just a subtle whisper, she spoke. "Picking on people you think are weaker than you, again?" Fay gave her a smirk and a wink. Making sure to poke fun at her. Remembering the moment Jesse ganged up on her with another beta, and Fay aptly put her back in her place. Jesse had no tactical skill as a fighter. No proper training from Fay's eyes. Perhaps Jesse was lucky that way. Then Fay returned to the direction of the voice of Mori. Another woman who didn't seem to appreciate Fay's presence in the pack. What did she even do? Alright, maybe it was curious that Fayth had great skill as a fighter. Maybe it was strange that she could switch her personality at the drop of the hat. And as Mori pointed out, Fay definitely could disappear for some stretches. Though if Mori knew why, she might be thanking her rather than berating her for it. Fayth sighed out. Not here for a fight, the blonde just wanted a drink and to settle down. Find a bit of fun, even. "Mori, why would I like ever miss this totally fun time here? Can't you look around? There's sooo many attractive guys here to hit on. It's time to get my drank on, ya' know?" Fay really laid her valley girl speak on thick for Morgana. When Avery had returned with her drink, Fay beamed over to Mori. "Can you hold on a minute, babe? I got some 'important' things to talk about." Turning to look at Avery. "Thanks girl! You're the best. I don't know what I'd do without you. And I know it's my day off! This is such a small town with not much to do. So, what better than getting tipsy tonight am I right? Like, obviously. And look at how many hot guys are here. Mr. Muscles over there who just ordered a water. He looks promising," Fayth looked directly over at Dmitri and winked. "Hey boy!" She giggled and continued talking at one hundred miles per hour. "And then you've got…" Fay stopped for a moment. She could smell the blood all over someone. Strong and pungent. Reeking all over the bar to her. Fayth turned to see Thomas bleeding profusely from his arm. "Ewww. Gross. Shouldn't someone like, help him out or something?"</s> <\|message\|>James Matherson Stephen Whelan Stephen continued to sit in the dark corner, watching as people came in. A waitress with dark hair came over, and asked if he wanted anything. "No, thank you," he replied. He knew that Michael, a werewolf who worked at The Backhouse, would pour him his regular, a PBR. He continued to sit, breathing the air in, as people go up. After a while, a woman came in, and then a few minutes later a man came in, dark and tall. He focused in on him, and he could hear him speaking, with a Russian accent. Stephen decided that he would continue to listen in. --- James Matherson James was in home, in his small house in Greyville. He knew that there was a pack here, he just wasn't sure who was a werewolf. He was in his basement, preparing for the full moon tomorrow night. He had to be ready to kill on sight. Perhaps I could prepare with some others, he thought, and sent out a text to all of the hunters in Greyville: Hey, it's a full moon tomorrow, anyone wanna do some planning? -James</s> <\|message\|>Yvette Stowe "The women want to get all in your pants, Dimitri." Yvette had a sly smirk as she sipped her beer, sparing the woman who catcalled him a glance. She shrugged her shoulders, and soon her gaze drifted and settled onto the bleeding figure. "How casual... Wait..." She whispered. The young woman's eyes narrowed as she had realized who that bleeding man was. She nudged Dimitri and pointed over at the lad, her voicing growing to a low whisper. "It's Thomas..." Yvette didn't know why he thought that it'd be okay to nonchalantly show up at a bar to drink... But whatever he decided, it was kind of stupid. "Mkayy... Well, I'm just gonna..." She slipped out of her stool to approach Thomas. "Welp, time to see him out."</s> <\|message\|>Nanix Erka Nanix Nanix frowned a bit. He was in a mood, huh? She put on a brave face, hoping not to look disappointed "Alright then" She turned away, going to serve anyone else who was at the bar</s>	<\|message\|>Dimitri Kozlov Dimitri stared down at the cooled water, his lips pulling into a small smirk of it's own at the 'Hey boy' from the girl across the bar. However, despite this, his mind was running a mile a second, the man easily returning his gaze to the drink down in front of him. Something didn't sit right with him... Thomas must have had an accident, that much was evident, but he had only heard rumors of the wild pack miles away from Greyville, back in the mountains that he had just eradicated...so whom, and what, had the other man been hunting? A random wanderer that had gotten too feisty during the full moon light? An old werewolf that wanted one more bout before he keeled over and died? No...Thomas was too skilled for that; he wouldn't get injured by an old, waning beast. Not to mention that not a lot of people seemed surprise at the blood. Gripping the cold cup with one calloused, gloved hand, Dimitri took a long sip, leaning back at the bar and stretching his arms above his head. His leather jacket was made from a pilfered Kevlar alloy, capable enough to stop a wolf's razor-sharp fangs and claws with minimal injury...not to mention he had an old family friend that tailored his clothing and weapons, for only a small amount of funding, which was easy with the wealth his father had managed to accumulate over time. Right now, however, the jacket was making the already warm room a bit hot, so Dimitri took it off, rolling it up and resting it on the counter beside his drink. This showed the tears in his long-sleeved shirt, and a few splatters of wolf blood, but the blood had long since dried, and the scent was practically non-existant. Just to be safe, he rolled the sleeves up his forearms, revealing long, jagged scars along the skin. Dimitri threw his jacket over his shoulder, and finally decided to stand. Walking over to Thomas and Yvette, the Russian Hunter smirked slightly larger, clasping Thomas on the shoulder that held the injured arm. "Ты полный отстой." He commented, his voice's accent becoming a Hell of a lot thicker due to him using his mother tongue. Dimitri sat down beside him, slapping Thomas lightly on the cheek to make him alert. "Go to the hospital." His voice was blunt and direct.</s>
<\|description\|>Dimitri Kozlov Age: 23 Appearance: Dimitri is a tall, muscular young man, his physique stream-lined and chiseled from years upon years of arduous training and physical exercise. His face is considered 'handsome', with a clearly defined jawline, and strong cheekbones. A minor scuffle could be seen dusting his face, a natural dirty blonde, the exact same as his hair - which is naturally cut short to his head, to avoid anyone gripping it in a fight. His eyes, however, are a dark blue, almost appearing black in different pieces of sunlight. Multiple long, pale scars on evident on his torso and back, with the most prominent one being the three deep, jagged marks scraping across his chest and down his abs. Generally wears a thick, form-fitting, dark-colored long-sleeved shirt, rugged jeans, and combat boots, along with a leather jacket thrown over it, sewn in with Kevlar. Can never be too careful, and he's pretty used to cold and hot temps. Species/Occupation: Human/Hunter Background: Dimitri was born in Moscow, Russia, underneath two war-weathered parents; Aleksandr Kozlov, and Marie Kozlov. His father was a veteran from the Spetznaz forces, while his mother was a former soldier in the Marines, having been honorably discharged after a grenade ended with her left arm being torn to shreds. How the two managed to find love in each other, Dimitri would never know; while his father was strict, gruff, cold, and incredibly ruthless in the training of Dimitri, his mother was soft, kind, and gentle, always there with warm treats and cold bottles of water. That's another thing...his training. Aleksandr Kozlov was both a Spetznaz veteran, and a former Werewolf-Hunter, having to retire from both due to old age, and PTSD. While this made the man quite brutal, it also made him force Dimitri to follow into his footsteps - and not for a bad reason, either. Werewolves - specifically, feral ones - were dangerous, this Dimitri knew from a young age. At first, up to the age of seven, he didn't know what he was training for. His father always made him do pushups, squats, and sprints down the snow-frozen road whenever he was awake and not eating/hydrating, always stopping and limiting the repetitions so that it was just under enough to not have any effect on Dimitri's physical growth. Weapons training and close quarters combat had already began, back when he was six. Pistols, assault rifles, shotguns...he was a crackshot, naturally skilled in any firearm that was brought before him. Obviously, he was kept to smaller, less destructive weaponry, as his relatively small stature - albeit big for his age - would make it incredibly difficult and inefficient to train with. Krav Maga; it's basic stances and attacks were taught to him as his 'main' chosen fighting style, although it was more along the lines of his father forcing it upon him. When he turned eight, he was brought on his first 'mock mission', which wasn't a mock mission at all. His father had tracked down a wandering, feral werewolf that preyed on cattle and smaller children that would wander away from their parents, in the park. Seeing his father rip open the werewolf's chest, and give him the silver knife...Dimitri was confused. Sorely confused. But when he saw the corpses of the children, he plunged the dagger down without hesitation. That was the start. Years passed, and Dimitri was trained with the brutality of a Demon from hell. He became an immensely capable marksman, a master of Krav Maga, and extremely competent and lethal when it came to the art of fighting with melee weapons - he began taking Werewolf Hunting missions at the age of twelve, going for the Werewolves that was blatantly harming others due to lack of mental awareness, or general insanity and love for violence. Life continued on like this, with Dimitri becoming a strong, intelligent, brave young man that did what he had to do in his forced line of work. His mother had passed away due to an illness - something that affected Dimitri greatly, and seemed to inspire his father's fiery ire even more. Finally, the man keeled over from a stress-filled cardiac arrest, on Dimitri's twentieth birthday. Ever since then, Dimitri has been travelling the globe, always on the case whenever reports of wild werewolf attacks sprung up, or whenever mysterious sightings or murders breezed the grapevine. Relationships: Thomas Young...Dimitri's partner. They met in Alaska, while Dimitri was hunting a group of feral Werewolves. It was an...interesting predicament, with Thomas managing to stop Dimitri from executing an innocent female Werewolf that had been planning on escaping her wild, out of controlled friends. Yvette was picked up, as his second partner, as they were leaving the frozen state. It snowballed from there.</s> <\|message\|>Jesse Williams Everything went as expected. People poured into the bar, both familiar faces and curiously unknown ones. Anton was at full speed too. Already. While it certainly took some strong juice to get her going, it never took long. While picking up the glass of cheap booze - "Thanks a bunch, cutie!" - Jesse decided to keep an eye on her situation. Always payed off to stick to the drunks, always came with lots of opportunities. "Picking on people you think are weaker than you, again?" While she didn't exactly sweep the room, her sense of smell and hearing got her a pretty good idea about who of the pack participated in the lil' monthly get-together, but somehow she still had missed picking up on Fayth. Odd, she thought, before the full extend of the blondes little 'poking fun/insult' hit her. Causing her to grind her teeth for a brief moment, before she put up the most sickeningly sweet and obviously fake smile. "Somebody's gotta pay the tab, right?" Her retort was anything if not odd. Confusing for anyone who didn't know her, no doubt. Jesse loved to poke fun at how uncomplicated it was to simply beat some poor sod into the pavement and take their cash, when the other pack members tried to live a genuine, honest life with a secure income like normal people do. To the average person she'd just seem like a careless thug thriving in the utter absence of the public law in Greyville, but to the pack she was a special kind of pest. One that didn't bother to fit into human society and shamelessly abused her unfair advantages to her personal gain. It was a thorn in everyone's side, specifically for those who masked their true nature and worked hard for their paycheck. She never bothered to hide her mugging deeds either, and often enough described them with a certain pride, just to rub it in and annoy the others even more. For Jesse, there was nothing negative about picking on weaklings. Survival of the fittest in its up-to-date form, as she liked to argument. Despite the carefree and self-ironical answer, it gnawed on her. The whole woman gnawed on her. She had planned to get back on Fay for a while now, for the beating she received. All it took was an (un)lucky encounter at night...preferably with two other betas, if not three. She had just to work out who'd qualify for the job and how to rile them up against the omega. Not an easy feat for someone who is generally making enemies left and right. Looking after Fay for just a second, Jess noticed Mori after completely missing her arrival as well. She made a mental note to pick a place that didn't put her back towards the door next time and gave her a respectful nod during a brief moment of eye-contact. When the bleeding guy entered the bar, she barely reacted. The intense smell of large quantities of blood didn't leave her completely unphased, but she managed to behave and not show it. Letting off steam earlier helped a great deal, too. Contrary to the general awe the bleeding man seemed to inspire, she payed him an impressed whistle. From one blood-splattered person to another. The night was still young and full of opportunity, and Jess was not nearly lit enough to pick a fight with someone her own size yet, so she decided to sit tight, sip cheap vodka and eavesdrop on Fay and Mori for the time being.</s> <\|message\|>Thomas Young Thomas His beer finally arriving to it, taking a long gulp before stopping and gasping for breath, he looked around and more people were giving him glances or even worried looks. He simply shrugs it off, he did however, raise an eyebrow at how some of the patrons began getting a bit more fidgety after seeing him, well specifically, his arm. "Probably the moonshine." he thought to himself before taking a quick gulp of the beer. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a familiar figure, though could barely recognize her because of the beer or the loss of blood, eitherway, "Oh, Yvette, is that you or am I starting to see things?" he asked her outloud with a wide grin, "How's it goin?" "Ты полный отстой." he heard from a Tall Russian man, with a really thick accent, "Is that Dimitri? No way." he utters but then gets a light slap on the cheek followed by, "Go to the hospital." "Well, hello to you to Dimitri, got even bulkier last time I saw ya', how is that even humanly possible?" he asked, still maintaining that stupid grin on his face. "This little scratch, I'll get it checked out soon, lemme just finish my beer" he said to him, but leans in and whispers in a serious tone, "Did you notice? Some of em' are eyeing my arm and even getting fidgety." A grin formed on his already smiling face, "Hah, fucking with you man, course there's no Wolves in here eh?" he said finally and finished the last drop of his drink, he get's up then stretches, and he also notices the blood spots and gives a bigger tip than usual. Right before leaving, he notices Fay, waving his injured hand at her caused the blood to smear on Dimitri's back, Yvette's face and a random customers shirt, bowing a quick apology to them, he quickly ran away and says to Fay right before, "Well, uhm, sorry I'll be leaving you with the mess, there's a tip on the table." After saying that sentence, Thomas runs out of the bar, hearing what sounded like a whistle towards him before hitting the door. Right after leaving the door and losing his balance, there was a beep that came on his phone, a message, but with Thomas being out for the count, he couldn't check it.</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer Taking his sweet time to get to the bar, Kalib walked with a pop song beat in his step and in no hurry to join the others. The Californian embraced the chill of the night air, savoring its freshness and relative familiarity. "The guys should be having a blast by the time I get there." He thought to himself, ticking off the names of his fellow pack mates as he spotted some dark drippings on the sidewalk. "Or, maybe the "fun" is just getting started. I really hope this wasn't Jesse again." With a sigh he began to jog his way to the bar, hoping to god that a fight hasn't started when a man came crashing through the bar door. The scent of blood overcame Kalib. "Whoa!" He exclaimed, dodging before the bloody man fell on him. Sure he was used to seeing guys literally falling out of the bar drunk off their rockers but what the hell?! "Hey, are you okay?" He questioned, careful not to step on the stranger or get blood on himself. "Say something, dude!" For a moment he glanced into the bar window and spotted Carlson and Mori --relieved the alphas were there. His eyes quickly scanned to find Jesse at the bar and thankfully not looking like she was the one to bloody this guy at his feet. Kalib turned his attention back to the guy but ready to jump into the building for some help.</s> <\|message\|>Yvette Stowe "Whoa hey!" Yvette yelped as Thomas had attempted to walk himself. "Don't be stupi-" She was about to grab onto his shirt collar, but instead someone had caught him. "Uh..." Maybe what Thomas was rambling about was true? Her Uncle was right... And he was far from being sane. She immediately ran to her ally's side, yanked him away from the other male and dipped her head down. "He's in my care, sorry for the trouble." She cleared her throat, gave the man a long stare, and shook her head. "Uh, fuck. I need a med kit, because there's no way he's going to survive a ride to the hospital like this. Do me a favor, go inside and start screaming or something." Yvette propped him up at the wall and removed her jacket so that she'd be able to tear a part of her shirt to at least delay the bleeding slightly while whoever had so decided to help would actually do something. The phone in her back jeans pocket buzzed, making her raise a brow and check real quick before scoffing and setting it to the side so that she would be able to focus on her injured ally. "God damn... You really fucked yourself over." She murmured, shaking her head lightly as she wrapped the torn piece of cloth over his wound. "Please hurry up with the kit?"</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer Kalib let the woman take her bleeding friend from him and nodded. "Right," and headed inside. He recognized the black-haired bartender and ran to her. "Hey, call an ambulance. Some guy just fell outside and he's covered in blood! His friend it out there with him but he really needs to get to the hospital, and fast." Keeping his voice calm, he tried not to make anyone panic. He told himself in his head that the guy will be okay so long as 911 comes.</s>	<\|message\|>Dimitri Kozlov Dimitri scowled once he saw the guy ask for the ambulance, rather than getting a medkit, as asked. Maintaining his temper; which he was rather easy at, the Russian got up from where he was leaning on the wall, nearby, moving towards the bar's counter. Easily sliding over, he quickly located the red and white medkit, underneath the counter's tabletop. Grabbing it, Dimitri slid back over the counter, long legs quickly striding him over to where his two accomplices were leaning against the building, outside. His sunglasses were back on, hiding his eyes, but it also allowed him to see easily, despite the darkness from the nightsky. Crouching down, Dimitri handed Yvette the first-aid kit, before taking a few steps back, so that he wouldn't get in her way. First-aid was definitely not his forte, and he knew that Yvette had training in it...most-likely from her delusional Uncle. "Dumbass..." He muttered underneath his voice, once again, but it was unknown on who the insult was directed towards.</s>
<\|description\|>Dimitri Kozlov Age: 23 Appearance: Dimitri is a tall, muscular young man, his physique stream-lined and chiseled from years upon years of arduous training and physical exercise. His face is considered 'handsome', with a clearly defined jawline, and strong cheekbones. A minor scuffle could be seen dusting his face, a natural dirty blonde, the exact same as his hair - which is naturally cut short to his head, to avoid anyone gripping it in a fight. His eyes, however, are a dark blue, almost appearing black in different pieces of sunlight. Multiple long, pale scars on evident on his torso and back, with the most prominent one being the three deep, jagged marks scraping across his chest and down his abs. Generally wears a thick, form-fitting, dark-colored long-sleeved shirt, rugged jeans, and combat boots, along with a leather jacket thrown over it, sewn in with Kevlar. Can never be too careful, and he's pretty used to cold and hot temps. Species/Occupation: Human/Hunter Background: Dimitri was born in Moscow, Russia, underneath two war-weathered parents; Aleksandr Kozlov, and Marie Kozlov. His father was a veteran from the Spetznaz forces, while his mother was a former soldier in the Marines, having been honorably discharged after a grenade ended with her left arm being torn to shreds. How the two managed to find love in each other, Dimitri would never know; while his father was strict, gruff, cold, and incredibly ruthless in the training of Dimitri, his mother was soft, kind, and gentle, always there with warm treats and cold bottles of water. That's another thing...his training. Aleksandr Kozlov was both a Spetznaz veteran, and a former Werewolf-Hunter, having to retire from both due to old age, and PTSD. While this made the man quite brutal, it also made him force Dimitri to follow into his footsteps - and not for a bad reason, either. Werewolves - specifically, feral ones - were dangerous, this Dimitri knew from a young age. At first, up to the age of seven, he didn't know what he was training for. His father always made him do pushups, squats, and sprints down the snow-frozen road whenever he was awake and not eating/hydrating, always stopping and limiting the repetitions so that it was just under enough to not have any effect on Dimitri's physical growth. Weapons training and close quarters combat had already began, back when he was six. Pistols, assault rifles, shotguns...he was a crackshot, naturally skilled in any firearm that was brought before him. Obviously, he was kept to smaller, less destructive weaponry, as his relatively small stature - albeit big for his age - would make it incredibly difficult and inefficient to train with. Krav Maga; it's basic stances and attacks were taught to him as his 'main' chosen fighting style, although it was more along the lines of his father forcing it upon him. When he turned eight, he was brought on his first 'mock mission', which wasn't a mock mission at all. His father had tracked down a wandering, feral werewolf that preyed on cattle and smaller children that would wander away from their parents, in the park. Seeing his father rip open the werewolf's chest, and give him the silver knife...Dimitri was confused. Sorely confused. But when he saw the corpses of the children, he plunged the dagger down without hesitation. That was the start. Years passed, and Dimitri was trained with the brutality of a Demon from hell. He became an immensely capable marksman, a master of Krav Maga, and extremely competent and lethal when it came to the art of fighting with melee weapons - he began taking Werewolf Hunting missions at the age of twelve, going for the Werewolves that was blatantly harming others due to lack of mental awareness, or general insanity and love for violence. Life continued on like this, with Dimitri becoming a strong, intelligent, brave young man that did what he had to do in his forced line of work. His mother had passed away due to an illness - something that affected Dimitri greatly, and seemed to inspire his father's fiery ire even more. Finally, the man keeled over from a stress-filled cardiac arrest, on Dimitri's twentieth birthday. Ever since then, Dimitri has been travelling the globe, always on the case whenever reports of wild werewolf attacks sprung up, or whenever mysterious sightings or murders breezed the grapevine. Relationships: Thomas Young...Dimitri's partner. They met in Alaska, while Dimitri was hunting a group of feral Werewolves. It was an...interesting predicament, with Thomas managing to stop Dimitri from executing an innocent female Werewolf that had been planning on escaping her wild, out of controlled friends. Yvette was picked up, as his second partner, as they were leaving the frozen state. It snowballed from there.</s> <\|message\|>Thomas Young Thomas As he was lying down on his bed, the constant beeps of his heart rate became white noise to him. He was about to fall back to sleep due to the comfy bed he was lying on, this was till an immense feeling of dread filled his being. He looked around and saw a tall, figure, his very presence oozed fear, not towards him, but to others around him. His presence choked up Thomas, if there were ever alarms in your head that tells you something is dangerous, this was the time. He entered the room, then strides to a chair and quickly gets comfortable. Thomas' fight or flight kicked in and his adrenaline started to pump. "Hello, Thomas." said the tall frame with a cold and menacing tone, "You don't mind, do you?" while lighting a cigarette, with no apparent care for Thomas' consent. His Golden eyes was an oddity that perturbed Thomas, he couldn't help but feel a bit unnerved. "Those are some wounds on you. Must've been one hell of a knife fight." he said with a deep breath, glare never leaving his own, "Unless it was an animal you were hunting. A wolf maybe…" Through general conception and judging by his demeanor and cold eyes, he had already figured out this intimidating stranger was infact a werewolf. "Who are you." was the only phrase Thomas was able to choke out, practically glaring at him at this point.</s> <\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Oh, for God's sake, you don't have to pretend. I know you hunters aren't as strong. She thought while observing him struggle with opening that bottle. While he was searching for the cups, Mori listened to the sounds coming from the bar, trying to distinguish what was going on in there. Since there was no sound of screaming, yelling or breaking things, she concluded that everything was alright. With hidden disgust she took the cup Anthar had given her, and clenched her fingers around it, wondering how could she get herself out of drinking alcohol. She followed Anthar's example, and raised her cup high in the air, only to then lower it again, far from her lips. His particular facial expression was enough proof to her, that she made a right decision not taking a sip. If Jet Fuel did that to him, God knows what would have done to Mori. But since she couldn't just stand there with a full cup in her hands, she had to act quickly. After his question, she took a few steps forward, and landed her hand gently on his chest. She licked her lips while observing his, and then raise her gaze up to his eyes. ''Me? Oh, I just come here to lure good looking men into this room, and then tricking them into drinking that awefully strong shit of a vodka,'' she smiled temptingly, sliding her hands to the sides of his waist as she was slowly to hug him.</s> <\|message\|>Yvette Stowe "Ahem..." Yvette cleared her throat as she leaned on the doorframe, her eyes glancing back and forth between Thomas and the mysterious man. "You're no guest here... Even I know that." She said, glancing down at her nails, then back up at the man in his seat. "Should I call security and take you out?" The girl closed the door behind her and stood near Thomas' bed, her hand resting on the plastic arm. The nurse had managed to call her in on time, and thankfully before things seemingly grew dark and heated... This man... Whomever he was, he was not here to make friends, obviously. This raised suspicions... A lot in fact. "Mhm..." The young woman pulled a chair of her own and sat down with her legs crossed and on her lap. "Isn't this quaint?" She said, giving them both a small smile before frowning and leaning back. "Do I have to call security or are you able to leave yourself, sir?"</s>	<\|message\|>Dimitri Kozlov He shouldn't have gotten distracted. The dark black motorcycle passed 150mph, the banging noise elevating into a soundless roar as dust and debris blasted backwards from the pure speed. Hitting a wheelie down the dirty country-road; the same shortcut he knew Yvette took to get to the hospital, Dimitri drifted passed a small outcropping of bushes, cleanly hitting a 360 as he, at the same time, shifted gears, revved the gas, and leaned forward, eyes narrowed from beneath his black, visored helmet, the Russian hunter continuing to drive at the same high-speed. Within a few minutes, he was out of the forest, the city's hospital in sight, in the distance. Cars were milling about, and he could see a few late-night civilians looking the direction he was blasting from, fright in their eyes. Smoothly, Dimitri shifted gears once more, his motorcycle easily and instantly going back to a more normal 60mph, while Dimitri himself sat back from his leaned forward position, dodging around a few unnamed cars as he began to head directly towards the hospital. __________ The sleek motorcycle parked outside of the hospital, right beside what he could see was obviously Yvette's sportscar. Standing, Dimitri sat his helmet down onto the bike's handlebars, before unzipping his jacket and cracking his neck abruptly to the side. The ride was sort of bumpy back in that forest, but regardless, it was necessary to get here in time; in time for what? He didn't really know. In time for Yvette not to bitch about him being late, probably. Feeling on the edge for some reason, Dimitri glanced around onceHe walked into the hospital, sharp eyes casually taking in the occupants of the waiting room. There weren't much people there, since it was really late, but he noted what seemed to be an injured man sitting down, with wounds on his person, along with the nurse at the front desk glancing around with an obviously confused face. "Is there a problem?" He asked, his heavily tinted Russian accent deeper due to his distinct lack of caring very much right now. The nurse looked up. "Oh, yes. A tall man came in and asked about a patient, and then, when I came back, he was gone." She said, glancing around once more, before focusing her attention on Dimitri. "Anything you need, young man?" Dimitri's eyes were slightly narrowed now, but from his sunglasses, you couldn't see. "No, mam. I'm here to see Nick Jackson." A random name...but he felt something was wrong...something was very wrong. It was the sixth sense from being a hunter for more than a decade. He had began to distinct their scent slightly from other humans, and there was definitely the slight dog-like scent pilfering through the air. He wasn't superhuman, and so he couldn't exactly feel directly from where it was going, but the talk of that man surprised him. He needed to go check on Thomas. "Oh...he's in Room 132!" So, Jackson was an actual guy admitted here? Interesting. Dimitri gave the woman a nod, casually turning and beginning to walk up the stairs. Room 135 was Thomas' room number; at least, Yvette had texted him that while he was on the way here. As he got closer to Thomas' room, the feeling of deja vu began to grow steadily and steadily, until he was close enough to hear Yvette's voice, and another man's. Dimitri's scent was practically non-existant, from a specific poultice his father taught him to create, to combat a werewolf's nose, and his footsteps were as silent as a sneaking Navy SEAL. "Do I have to call security or are you able to leave yourself, sir?" There had to be a werewolf in there. He wasn't going to take any chance. Reaching behind his waist, underneath his leather jacket, Dimitri's calloused hands wrapped around what seemed to be the handle of a sawed-off shotgun, the rather stubby, powerful gun easily hidden within it's dark black holster. Pulling it out into his left hand, Dimitri took a long, silver bladed knife from his other holster, quickly glancing down the hallway for witnesses. There weren't any. A heartbeat pause, and then, he swiftly and silently pressed a knee into the doorknob, the sharp and quiet strike breaking the inner mechanism of the lock, and easily letting him inside without the usage of his hand. Quietly, he swung into the room, the sawed-off shotgun pointed right at the tall man's head, while his knife was gripped in a white-knuckled fist, Dimitri's eyes glaring as he stared down at the sitting man. "..." He said nothing, waiting for the man to answer Yvette's question. If he would leave, then Dimitri would let him...for now. He only killed werewolves that needed death. But if he didn't leave....then he would die. Dimitri wasn't stupid enough to think that there was no way for him to die himself, but that was why he had busted the door's lock and handle, rather than open it calmly. He could easily escape and reassess the situation, along with dropping his weapons and grabbing Thomas. This wasn't his first rodeo.</s>
<\|description\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Age: 23 Appearance: Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega?: Omega Background: Within the dark whirlwind of fangs and blood, the pup becomes a wolf. Those are the words of her father and the code of her pack; the code that served to create the trial of fire by which Fayth became tested and hardened. The vast, endless freedom of the Alaskan tundra imprinted its memory on her paws. Never-ending winter nights of all-consuming darkness still claw at her soul. Togetherness is survival, division is death. Year after year, the unforgiving words and beliefs of her father were branded into her mind and body by the brutal icy blades of wintry wind. Once coexisting with humans, the Bloodmoon pack was massacred and dispersed all across Alaska. Once the most peaceful, free, and united wolf tribes on earth was now broken and scattered. Fayth's father watched his parents die by the hands of hunters and the light of his heart became consumed with darkness. The old ways died, the time of blood had risen. Her father, rarely spoken of by name in werewolf lore, took on the mantle of "The Black." With fur black as the dark night blanket across calm waters he struck from the shadows with pearl fangs that spattered the snow-white tundra with rivers of crimson. The Black had no hesitation for the weak, cutting down even those of werewolf blood. He turned those who had the most motivation to kill. A pack unified through the bond of battle. Within time, he formed a pack that could move place to place all over the vast state of Alaska without ever being found by hunters. The hunters that did catch up were never to be seen again, or were posted in places where mankind could see the bloody message. The Black became more ruthless and cold as he went. He created combat trials where only the strongest of the wolf kind survived and earned the title of 'wolf' within the pack. Each and every member of his tribe has fierce fighting ability and a strong will to survive. None are afraid to kill. None have any love for humans. His ways blinded those around him because with years of survival they soon believed his code was the only one that worked in the new world. Perhaps he could bring werewolves back from the brink of destruction and turn the hunters into the hunted. Only one refused to live by the creed of fangs and blood. Only one would not be bound by vicious brutality on the road of destruction. Fayth Catelaya Nightshade. That is her name. Well, she preferred the last name of Nightshade as it was her mothers before she became a Frost just like her father. Any action to get further from him, the better. Life was peaceful as a little girl, but as the hunters became more ruthless everything turned upside down. Her mother was killed, and her father was no longer a man of warmth. He pushed her and tested her. As the oldest child she took the brunt of his rage. Oftentimes he wouldn't be able to look at her due to how similar she came to look like her mother. Trained in hunting, scouting and fighting; Fayth was set to be the Omega of her pack. The Black long decided there should be only one Omega. He believed in the idea of the strongest survives. There should be no weakness anywhere. On her rise she took all the scars one would expect. Her back is littered with the marks of her father's claws and his fangs. One scar next to her left eye stains her face with the reminder of pain every time she looks in the mirror. Longing for the freedom of running across the Alaskan tundra and the warmth of better days, Fayth had had enough. She betrayed the pack, breaking the permanent blood oath of never leaving the tribe. Before her eighteenth birthday, the day she would be permanently branded with the mark of the Bloodmoon pack, she disappeared. Her father looked for her. Sending scouts and her brother Marcus. Fayth didn't get away without harm. The scar next to her eye is one she will remember forever. She managed to get to the mainland United States and moved from one state to the next. Avoiding hunters and scouts of her father. It used to be every few months she had to move. But after having reached California and the town of Greyville, Fayth hasn't been touched for a few years. She enjoyed the times of her wild, on-the-run lifestyle on her own. The thrill of freedom, independence and being on her own became something she preferred. Settling with humans who fancied her, or other wolves was not an option. Attachment was dangerous because the looming threat of The Black always shadowed her everywhere she went. At this time she had called herself Fayth Morrow. Her striking raven black hair has been dyed a dirty blonde to look like it is her natural hair color. She changes her personality wherever she goes. In Greyville, she has played the act of a wannabe actress. Pretending to be less intelligent than she actually is. Though, one look at her deceitful sapphire eyes hints to a deep reservoir of hidden truth. Living a solitary life once more, she soon found her rootless living was unsustainable. Evading hunters, she found herself in this small town. Crossing the paths of other wolves, Fayth found herself in a fight. She held her ground despite a two to one disadvantage, and also had her first run in with Carlson Jakes. Fayth agreed to become a part of his pack as an Omega. Once more she lives in a pack, and this time under a leader who is sharp and resourceful without having to resort to violence. Though, Fayth remains as that mysterious woman sitting at the end of the bar. Looking at the world through the faint lens of smoke that rises from her worst habit. That and the mind-numbing venom she drinks down from the bottle every weekend, and even weeknights. She runs often, uses the peace of the creek to read books, and has fun at the local pub at night. Fierce, intelligent, manipulative, independent, and fiery. The woman of many faces. Who she has met, how it happened: Avery Upon arriving in Greyville, Fayth got a job as a waitress. She played the card of a blonde wannabe actress with a ditzy personality. At the restaurant, she works with Avery who she felt was a bit too curious about certain conversations regarding "dog attacks." And, she also works part time at the same pub all the wolves go at. Working with Avery yet again as a bartender on some nights/days. Carlson Carlson Jakes convinced her to join the pack after she battled with two of the betas within the clan. Mori If there's one member of the Greyville pack that Fayth needs to be careful around, it's Morgana. Fierce and intelligent. A cunning much like her own. While Fayth has somewhat eased into the ranks of the clan and become an Omega, Mori has not accepted her. Fayth knows when Mori's eyes are on her. There can be no missteps. She has to keep the mask on or risk her life. Ryan A wolf much like herself. Defiant, and in search of some sort of normalcy. However, while she feels closer to him than most others; she still doesn't like his reckless behavior. The pack's safety; and most importantly, her own life, are on the line.</s> <\|message\|>Dimitri Kozlov He had been expecting it, honestly. The man had been expecting the anonymously scouted Werewolf cavern to be...stank, but this was a bit above what he had previously assumed. A figure stood in the dark of the forest, dark blue - or were they black, eyes narrowed as he peered into the lip of a shady, unassuming cave. On the cave's entrance, deep claw marks grazed along the rock, apparently by razor-sharp wolf nails, but this wasn't what made him pause. No...it was the pure amount of stink that came out of the cave. It smelled...like wet, furry dog, a dog that had been decomposing in the desert sun for the past few months, without disintegrating. There was also the smell of shit, piss, and blood, but the blood seemed fresh, while the other scents were stale. Stale, but still there. The figure twitched, and finally got the feeling of his nose back into place. The figure was tall, a bit taller than most Americans, with a muscular build, even obvious from under the dark clothing he wore. The clothing was tough; a form-fitting, long-sleeved black shirt, black gloves, dark, rugged jeans, and dark brown combat boots that held two straps on both sides, the long, metal hilt of two knives evident in the straps. A studded belt was wrapped around his waist, and it held numerous, compact black pouches on each loop; although, what was in the pouches, was a mystery. The man's face held the scruffy remains of a shaven beard, and his close-cutted, dark blonde hair blended in well with his surroundings. In his gloved right fist, he held a razor-sharp, jagged combat knife, the silver metal of the knife not even glinting in the moonlight, while, in his right hand, a dark black pistol was evident. His eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses, and although most would make a snarky, annoying joke about wearing sunglasses at night, these sunglasses obviously had multiple uses, the most prominent one being that it allowed him to see as clear as day, even in the night. Not to mention that it hid his eyes, allowing him to stare and focus on things/people without anyone seeing. The man gripped his combat knife tighter, while his finger edged over the trigger of his pistol. He took a glance at the motorcycle, practically invisible in the darkness, hidden nearby. Without a second thought, he silently dashed into the cave. _______________________________________ Werewolves were strong beings, but wild, unrefined...and generally unskilled. Dimitri cleanly slammed a stone-hard fore-arm against the snarling wolf's swing, his arm wrapping around the other beast's arm, while his knife-hand darted forward, the silver, razor-sharp blade easily tearing through fur and flesh to reach deep within the beast's heart. Kicking it away, the Russian Hunter watched dispassionately as the beastial wolf slowly formed back into the dead, wild form of a hairy, dirty man. This pack of wolves, hidden in the forest and mountains near Greyville, was one of the disgusting packs that preyed on innocent humans for no reason, other than their maddening lust for food, glory, and worthlessness. All around him, in one of the cave's stony areas, the bodies of gutted, stabbed, and generally dead werewolves littered the floor. Gas was slick on the stone ground, and as Dimitri began to walk away, one hand in his pocket, the Hunter flicked his cigarette - a guilty, once a month pleasure - and sped up slightly as it landed in the gas. The rev of a sleek motorcycle blasted through the mountains, as the cave collapsed in on itself, the fire having spread to take over the rocky maze.</s> <\|message\|>Ryan Jameson "Special's not up yet," Ryan said to Avery, watching as Anton downed her vile concoction and demanded more. Ryan just shook his head and put the whole bottle on the counter for her. "Southern Fireballs at two-for-five tonight. Russian Reuben sandwiches for six bucks, just as bad as always." Ryan gave Avery a wide berth as she moved across the bar. It was hard enough being a waitress at a place that didn't serve alcohol. Her tips might be a little higher here, but sooner or later someone became a drunk asshole and the nights got interesting. Speaking of assholes, he pulled his phone out as it vibrated in his pocket. Heading to studio. Call tmrw? "Hey Avery, what do you buy someone when you need to say 'Sorry I've been an asshole lately?'" But Ryan didn't stick around to hear the answer to that one. Anton had already plowed through the potato-based jet fuel he'd given her and was making for the ladies room. "Oh fuckberries." Ryan slipped out from behind the bar, following in Anton's wake until she went into the ladies room. And he dared not cross that threshold. "Anton," Ryan yelled, pounding the door. "Anton, I can hear you puking in there! Flush the damn toilet this time, all right?"</s>	<\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow In the darkness of the clear sky night, Fayth held the last of a cigarette to her lips. Taking one last, long and smooth drag. The bright orange glow burned away as she tossed it to the ground. Blowing out a puff of smoke that hazed up in front of her face, drifting up into the nothingness above. She crushed the cigarette underneath her foot, grinding it against asphalt. Looking at The Backhouse as it began to fill with the familiar faces of her new pack. Fayth watched them carefully. Even those who were human. In today's world, knowing who to trust and who needed to be watched was a necessity. The only problem with that was one thing: everyone needed to be watched. As the new Omega of the tribe, her hardened gaze needed to be focused as ever. While this pack had survived and kept great numbers in the death rate, it seemed to her that they had grown too relaxed. Ryan had his stubborn, infuriating ways. His human boyfriend was becoming a problem of sorts. No one could know about their secrets otherwise everyone's life was in jeopardy. Most importantly, her own life would be in trouble. Fayth wasn't going to let anyone get in the way of her own survival. Then there was Anton and her foolish habits. Her sorrows and depression. Instead of getting on with her life, Anton had decided to drown herself in the venomous belly of the worst snake of all: alcohol. Not that Fay didn't indulge herself. She'd like to think she had herself under control when it came to drinking. Anton needed a lesson, fast. Every single one of them did. The more Fay thought about it, the more this monthly visit to the bar seemed incredibly stupid. A whole pack of werewolves in one place, conveniently on the night before the full moon. The same people. The same day. Every month. It didn't take rocket science for a hunter to figure out that something was strange about this all. Everyone was so undisciplined. It's a goddamn miracle they're all alive. Fayth sighed as it was time for her to walk into the pub. She worked part time there as a bartender, but on these nights she decided to take the night off. Be on watch for her fellow wolves. And tonight she looked every bit the part she wanted to play. Her dyed blonde hair let loose flowing down her shoulders. A pair of hooped earrings in. Black heels, and a tight black dress that revealed her long smooth legs as she strutted on into the bar. Her heels clacking the entire way as she moved on in. Fay gave a brilliant smile to those who were there. Especially the men. Showing off as she moved on up to a stool at the bar and took her seat. Placing her purse on the counter. The blonde looked around and spotted Avery immediately. "Hey gorgeous! Can you help a girl out over here? I need to get cray tonight. Tipsy! Ya' know? I'll take the usual by the way." The usual being an appletini that would probably get most men laughed at if they ordered it. She claimed to hate the taste of alcohol and just wanted that sweet drink.</s>
<\|description\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Age: 23 Appearance: Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega?: Omega Background: Within the dark whirlwind of fangs and blood, the pup becomes a wolf. Those are the words of her father and the code of her pack; the code that served to create the trial of fire by which Fayth became tested and hardened. The vast, endless freedom of the Alaskan tundra imprinted its memory on her paws. Never-ending winter nights of all-consuming darkness still claw at her soul. Togetherness is survival, division is death. Year after year, the unforgiving words and beliefs of her father were branded into her mind and body by the brutal icy blades of wintry wind. Once coexisting with humans, the Bloodmoon pack was massacred and dispersed all across Alaska. Once the most peaceful, free, and united wolf tribes on earth was now broken and scattered. Fayth's father watched his parents die by the hands of hunters and the light of his heart became consumed with darkness. The old ways died, the time of blood had risen. Her father, rarely spoken of by name in werewolf lore, took on the mantle of "The Black." With fur black as the dark night blanket across calm waters he struck from the shadows with pearl fangs that spattered the snow-white tundra with rivers of crimson. The Black had no hesitation for the weak, cutting down even those of werewolf blood. He turned those who had the most motivation to kill. A pack unified through the bond of battle. Within time, he formed a pack that could move place to place all over the vast state of Alaska without ever being found by hunters. The hunters that did catch up were never to be seen again, or were posted in places where mankind could see the bloody message. The Black became more ruthless and cold as he went. He created combat trials where only the strongest of the wolf kind survived and earned the title of 'wolf' within the pack. Each and every member of his tribe has fierce fighting ability and a strong will to survive. None are afraid to kill. None have any love for humans. His ways blinded those around him because with years of survival they soon believed his code was the only one that worked in the new world. Perhaps he could bring werewolves back from the brink of destruction and turn the hunters into the hunted. Only one refused to live by the creed of fangs and blood. Only one would not be bound by vicious brutality on the road of destruction. Fayth Catelaya Nightshade. That is her name. Well, she preferred the last name of Nightshade as it was her mothers before she became a Frost just like her father. Any action to get further from him, the better. Life was peaceful as a little girl, but as the hunters became more ruthless everything turned upside down. Her mother was killed, and her father was no longer a man of warmth. He pushed her and tested her. As the oldest child she took the brunt of his rage. Oftentimes he wouldn't be able to look at her due to how similar she came to look like her mother. Trained in hunting, scouting and fighting; Fayth was set to be the Omega of her pack. The Black long decided there should be only one Omega. He believed in the idea of the strongest survives. There should be no weakness anywhere. On her rise she took all the scars one would expect. Her back is littered with the marks of her father's claws and his fangs. One scar next to her left eye stains her face with the reminder of pain every time she looks in the mirror. Longing for the freedom of running across the Alaskan tundra and the warmth of better days, Fayth had had enough. She betrayed the pack, breaking the permanent blood oath of never leaving the tribe. Before her eighteenth birthday, the day she would be permanently branded with the mark of the Bloodmoon pack, she disappeared. Her father looked for her. Sending scouts and her brother Marcus. Fayth didn't get away without harm. The scar next to her eye is one she will remember forever. She managed to get to the mainland United States and moved from one state to the next. Avoiding hunters and scouts of her father. It used to be every few months she had to move. But after having reached California and the town of Greyville, Fayth hasn't been touched for a few years. She enjoyed the times of her wild, on-the-run lifestyle on her own. The thrill of freedom, independence and being on her own became something she preferred. Settling with humans who fancied her, or other wolves was not an option. Attachment was dangerous because the looming threat of The Black always shadowed her everywhere she went. At this time she had called herself Fayth Morrow. Her striking raven black hair has been dyed a dirty blonde to look like it is her natural hair color. She changes her personality wherever she goes. In Greyville, she has played the act of a wannabe actress. Pretending to be less intelligent than she actually is. Though, one look at her deceitful sapphire eyes hints to a deep reservoir of hidden truth. Living a solitary life once more, she soon found her rootless living was unsustainable. Evading hunters, she found herself in this small town. Crossing the paths of other wolves, Fayth found herself in a fight. She held her ground despite a two to one disadvantage, and also had her first run in with Carlson Jakes. Fayth agreed to become a part of his pack as an Omega. Once more she lives in a pack, and this time under a leader who is sharp and resourceful without having to resort to violence. Though, Fayth remains as that mysterious woman sitting at the end of the bar. Looking at the world through the faint lens of smoke that rises from her worst habit. That and the mind-numbing venom she drinks down from the bottle every weekend, and even weeknights. She runs often, uses the peace of the creek to read books, and has fun at the local pub at night. Fierce, intelligent, manipulative, independent, and fiery. The woman of many faces. Who she has met, how it happened: Avery Upon arriving in Greyville, Fayth got a job as a waitress. She played the card of a blonde wannabe actress with a ditzy personality. At the restaurant, she works with Avery who she felt was a bit too curious about certain conversations regarding "dog attacks." And, she also works part time at the same pub all the wolves go at. Working with Avery yet again as a bartender on some nights/days. Carlson Carlson Jakes convinced her to join the pack after she battled with two of the betas within the clan. Mori If there's one member of the Greyville pack that Fayth needs to be careful around, it's Morgana. Fierce and intelligent. A cunning much like her own. While Fayth has somewhat eased into the ranks of the clan and become an Omega, Mori has not accepted her. Fayth knows when Mori's eyes are on her. There can be no missteps. She has to keep the mask on or risk her life. Ryan A wolf much like herself. Defiant, and in search of some sort of normalcy. However, while she feels closer to him than most others; she still doesn't like his reckless behavior. The pack's safety; and most importantly, her own life, are on the line.</s> <\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester The moon cycle was around again, surely like a clock that never stops ticking. And with that came the Backhouse. Ughh she hated that place. It reeked of alcohol, and reminded her of her own gruesome father, whose only purpose in this world was to indulge in that distasteful liquid. She never quite understood, why the werewolves would want to get drunk on the night before the full moon, or what was even the point of it, but since it was made a ritual, a filthy tradition, she could do nothing to prevent it. Yes, she was the alpha female, but she had no saying in this kinds of matters. Actually, she thought, she didn't have that many sayings in anything. It was always Carlson, who had the last word, which was overall fine as that's how the things work in the pack, but Mori was still getting annoyed. By the drinking, by the secrecy, by Ryan growling at her everytime she mentioned his boyfriend, and by her. Of course, Fay was there. Where else could she be? Oh, actually she could be anywhere, doing anything, it's a freaking miracle that she was now exactly where she was supposed to be. God, this Moon is making me crazy, Mori thought to herself, when she noticed how edgy she'd become upon arriving at the bar. She glanced over the bar, and her family members, and despite her better judgement decide to walk over to Fay, who was sitting by the counter. ''Fay,'' she said with a cold smile on her face. ''I thought we'd be missing you tonight, here. Don't you have anywhere else important to be? Like you do, you know…usually?'' Mori smirked at her, ordering herself a glass of juice as per usual.</s> <\|message\|>Thomas Young Thomas Gasping for air, Thomas had failed to execute the werewolf that he had been hunting, both of them trading blows, only for the werewolf to scamper away in the death of the night right before the killing blow. The traps he had set were faulty and didn't spring up in time, and he could only smile at this. The cool dead air of the night hit his face, taking a glance at his left arm, it was bleeding profusely, though this didn't pester him. Having a high pain tolerance is something basic for every hunter, otherwise you'd be dead from the outset. "Quick little bugger, managed to escape huh." he thought to himself. --- Eyeing a bar that he frequents in the city, Thomas liked the lively atmosphere of it, bar fights were common place too. With a grin, he entered the place with a ding, Arm still moderately bleeding, he had planned to go to the hospital to get it patched right up, but then eyed the bar and decided that, "Well, I mean the bar is closer to the hospital, a quick beer wouldn't hurt and it would probably numb the pain." he said to himself right after entering the door, walking up to a bar lady, he asked her for a quick beer, to which she nodded but became a bit wide eyed at the sight of his arm. "Ah this, well don't worry about it, the beer will numb it out. Haha" he said to her with an ear to ear smile. Walking around to find an empty location, gathering a few stares from the other patrons, he quickly found a seat. Thomas didn't notice but he was dropping bits of blood all over the place as he walked to the empty seat, afterwards he just sat there, leaned back looking at the ceiling letting the fatigue hit and simply waited for his beer to arrive.</s> <\|message\|>Carlson Jakes Carlson Seeing Anton already getting herself wasted made Carlson want to curl up on himself. She'd been doing this constantly, and he was finally fed up with it. He thought that she would mope around for a while, and then lift herself up again. But apparently that was giving her too much credit. He approached her at the bar, and put his hand down leaning slightly "You are done drinking" He said, very calmly. He wasn't about to start a scene. But he was about to stop her from drinking</s>	<\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow When Jesse sat close to Fayth, only for a brief moment did Fayth drop the bubbly ditz appearance. On purpose. Not only to test Jesse and push her. But now that she knew Mori was here, it became more fun because she knew her ability to shift personalities so effortlessly could potentially put Morgana on even more edge. Fayth's cool, blue-eyed gaze wandered Jesse's body up and down. She caught the faint traces of drying blood on her. Not only that, she could smell it. And this close on the full moon, the faintest scent of blood sent a shiver shuddering down her spine. 'You're in control...' Fay would tell herself in her mind. Breathing deep. The beast is not you. As if trying to prevent a darker part of her self from coming out. Instead, Fay leaned over to Jesse and laid a gentle hand on her arm. With just a subtle whisper, she spoke. "Picking on people you think are weaker than you, again?" Fay gave her a smirk and a wink. Making sure to poke fun at her. Remembering the moment Jesse ganged up on her with another beta, and Fay aptly put her back in her place. Jesse had no tactical skill as a fighter. No proper training from Fay's eyes. Perhaps Jesse was lucky that way. Then Fay returned to the direction of the voice of Mori. Another woman who didn't seem to appreciate Fay's presence in the pack. What did she even do? Alright, maybe it was curious that Fayth had great skill as a fighter. Maybe it was strange that she could switch her personality at the drop of the hat. And as Mori pointed out, Fay definitely could disappear for some stretches. Though if Mori knew why, she might be thanking her rather than berating her for it. Fayth sighed out. Not here for a fight, the blonde just wanted a drink and to settle down. Find a bit of fun, even. "Mori, why would I like ever miss this totally fun time here? Can't you look around? There's sooo many attractive guys here to hit on. It's time to get my drank on, ya' know?" Fay really laid her valley girl speak on thick for Morgana. When Avery had returned with her drink, Fay beamed over to Mori. "Can you hold on a minute, babe? I got some 'important' things to talk about." Turning to look at Avery. "Thanks girl! You're the best. I don't know what I'd do without you. And I know it's my day off! This is such a small town with not much to do. So, what better than getting tipsy tonight am I right? Like, obviously. And look at how many hot guys are here. Mr. Muscles over there who just ordered a water. He looks promising," Fayth looked directly over at Dmitri and winked. "Hey boy!" She giggled and continued talking at one hundred miles per hour. "And then you've got…" Fay stopped for a moment. She could smell the blood all over someone. Strong and pungent. Reeking all over the bar to her. Fayth turned to see Thomas bleeding profusely from his arm. "Ewww. Gross. Shouldn't someone like, help him out or something?"</s>
<\|description\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Age: 23 Appearance: Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega?: Omega Background: Within the dark whirlwind of fangs and blood, the pup becomes a wolf. Those are the words of her father and the code of her pack; the code that served to create the trial of fire by which Fayth became tested and hardened. The vast, endless freedom of the Alaskan tundra imprinted its memory on her paws. Never-ending winter nights of all-consuming darkness still claw at her soul. Togetherness is survival, division is death. Year after year, the unforgiving words and beliefs of her father were branded into her mind and body by the brutal icy blades of wintry wind. Once coexisting with humans, the Bloodmoon pack was massacred and dispersed all across Alaska. Once the most peaceful, free, and united wolf tribes on earth was now broken and scattered. Fayth's father watched his parents die by the hands of hunters and the light of his heart became consumed with darkness. The old ways died, the time of blood had risen. Her father, rarely spoken of by name in werewolf lore, took on the mantle of "The Black." With fur black as the dark night blanket across calm waters he struck from the shadows with pearl fangs that spattered the snow-white tundra with rivers of crimson. The Black had no hesitation for the weak, cutting down even those of werewolf blood. He turned those who had the most motivation to kill. A pack unified through the bond of battle. Within time, he formed a pack that could move place to place all over the vast state of Alaska without ever being found by hunters. The hunters that did catch up were never to be seen again, or were posted in places where mankind could see the bloody message. The Black became more ruthless and cold as he went. He created combat trials where only the strongest of the wolf kind survived and earned the title of 'wolf' within the pack. Each and every member of his tribe has fierce fighting ability and a strong will to survive. None are afraid to kill. None have any love for humans. His ways blinded those around him because with years of survival they soon believed his code was the only one that worked in the new world. Perhaps he could bring werewolves back from the brink of destruction and turn the hunters into the hunted. Only one refused to live by the creed of fangs and blood. Only one would not be bound by vicious brutality on the road of destruction. Fayth Catelaya Nightshade. That is her name. Well, she preferred the last name of Nightshade as it was her mothers before she became a Frost just like her father. Any action to get further from him, the better. Life was peaceful as a little girl, but as the hunters became more ruthless everything turned upside down. Her mother was killed, and her father was no longer a man of warmth. He pushed her and tested her. As the oldest child she took the brunt of his rage. Oftentimes he wouldn't be able to look at her due to how similar she came to look like her mother. Trained in hunting, scouting and fighting; Fayth was set to be the Omega of her pack. The Black long decided there should be only one Omega. He believed in the idea of the strongest survives. There should be no weakness anywhere. On her rise she took all the scars one would expect. Her back is littered with the marks of her father's claws and his fangs. One scar next to her left eye stains her face with the reminder of pain every time she looks in the mirror. Longing for the freedom of running across the Alaskan tundra and the warmth of better days, Fayth had had enough. She betrayed the pack, breaking the permanent blood oath of never leaving the tribe. Before her eighteenth birthday, the day she would be permanently branded with the mark of the Bloodmoon pack, she disappeared. Her father looked for her. Sending scouts and her brother Marcus. Fayth didn't get away without harm. The scar next to her eye is one she will remember forever. She managed to get to the mainland United States and moved from one state to the next. Avoiding hunters and scouts of her father. It used to be every few months she had to move. But after having reached California and the town of Greyville, Fayth hasn't been touched for a few years. She enjoyed the times of her wild, on-the-run lifestyle on her own. The thrill of freedom, independence and being on her own became something she preferred. Settling with humans who fancied her, or other wolves was not an option. Attachment was dangerous because the looming threat of The Black always shadowed her everywhere she went. At this time she had called herself Fayth Morrow. Her striking raven black hair has been dyed a dirty blonde to look like it is her natural hair color. She changes her personality wherever she goes. In Greyville, she has played the act of a wannabe actress. Pretending to be less intelligent than she actually is. Though, one look at her deceitful sapphire eyes hints to a deep reservoir of hidden truth. Living a solitary life once more, she soon found her rootless living was unsustainable. Evading hunters, she found herself in this small town. Crossing the paths of other wolves, Fayth found herself in a fight. She held her ground despite a two to one disadvantage, and also had her first run in with Carlson Jakes. Fayth agreed to become a part of his pack as an Omega. Once more she lives in a pack, and this time under a leader who is sharp and resourceful without having to resort to violence. Though, Fayth remains as that mysterious woman sitting at the end of the bar. Looking at the world through the faint lens of smoke that rises from her worst habit. That and the mind-numbing venom she drinks down from the bottle every weekend, and even weeknights. She runs often, uses the peace of the creek to read books, and has fun at the local pub at night. Fierce, intelligent, manipulative, independent, and fiery. The woman of many faces. Who she has met, how it happened: Avery Upon arriving in Greyville, Fayth got a job as a waitress. She played the card of a blonde wannabe actress with a ditzy personality. At the restaurant, she works with Avery who she felt was a bit too curious about certain conversations regarding "dog attacks." And, she also works part time at the same pub all the wolves go at. Working with Avery yet again as a bartender on some nights/days. Carlson Carlson Jakes convinced her to join the pack after she battled with two of the betas within the clan. Mori If there's one member of the Greyville pack that Fayth needs to be careful around, it's Morgana. Fierce and intelligent. A cunning much like her own. While Fayth has somewhat eased into the ranks of the clan and become an Omega, Mori has not accepted her. Fayth knows when Mori's eyes are on her. There can be no missteps. She has to keep the mask on or risk her life. Ryan A wolf much like herself. Defiant, and in search of some sort of normalcy. However, while she feels closer to him than most others; she still doesn't like his reckless behavior. The pack's safety; and most importantly, her own life, are on the line.</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer Kalib let the woman take her bleeding friend from him and nodded. "Right," and headed inside. He recognized the black-haired bartender and ran to her. "Hey, call an ambulance. Some guy just fell outside and he's covered in blood! His friend it out there with him but he really needs to get to the hospital, and fast." Keeping his voice calm, he tried not to make anyone panic. He told himself in his head that the guy will be okay so long as 911 comes.</s> <\|message\|>Dimitri Kozlov Dimitri scowled once he saw the guy ask for the ambulance, rather than getting a medkit, as asked. Maintaining his temper; which he was rather easy at, the Russian got up from where he was leaning on the wall, nearby, moving towards the bar's counter. Easily sliding over, he quickly located the red and white medkit, underneath the counter's tabletop. Grabbing it, Dimitri slid back over the counter, long legs quickly striding him over to where his two accomplices were leaning against the building, outside. His sunglasses were back on, hiding his eyes, but it also allowed him to see easily, despite the darkness from the nightsky. Crouching down, Dimitri handed Yvette the first-aid kit, before taking a few steps back, so that he wouldn't get in her way. First-aid was definitely not his forte, and he knew that Yvette had training in it...most-likely from her delusional Uncle. "Dumbass..." He muttered underneath his voice, once again, but it was unknown on who the insult was directed towards.</s> <\|message\|>Nanix Erka Nanix watched Kalib come and tell her to call 911, then Demitiri come and take the kit. "... something tells me that guy has it" She pointed to him. "you want a drink?"</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer "Huh?" He turned, seeing the tail end of a hulking man leave with something red and white. ". . . . Oh. Er, okay. A rum and cola, please. . ." Kalib said, awkwardly seating himself at the bar. He felt like a spaz for running in like that, and a blockhead for not going for the first aid kit. Attempting not to look as embarrassed as he felt, he leaned against the counter. "How's the night going for ya? Got a lot of tips?" With the multiple times the pack has gone drinking before the full moon, Kalib had began to favor this bartender more then her co-workers and silently scolded himself for not asking her name after all this time. Seeking a peek over his shoulder, he wanted to see if anyone was staring or, at least, not noticing him. "Man, you mucked this one up real good. How will the pack expect to rely on you when you're being stupid and can't handle getting the first aid kit." Chastised his mind. It was one thing being one of the younger werewolves in the pack; its quite another being a young omega who needs to do his job.</s> <\|message\|>Avery Wind Avery listened patiently as Fayth talked and talked about the boys and getting tipsy, her lips almost never stopped moving. It could be good though, at times. Especially when things got uncomfortably silent. Then Fayth mentioned something about a gross guy who needed help, and Avery looked around, her tired eyes frantic. Yet...She saw no one. Avery turned back to Fayth and squinted. "Fayth, are you sure? I don't see anyone. Did he leave, did he look confused?" She resisted the urge to rest her hand on Fayth's forehead to check for a fever. "If you're busy right now, I'll let you get back to your friend's while I make my rounds. Uhh, ladies, do you want anything? Refills, food. Anything?" She took out her little notepad, flipping it open and bringing out a mechanical pencil, covered in scratches and stickers of rainbows. "I suggest our cosmos with a strawberry topping or a lemon twist. Its delicious!"</s>	<\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow Between talking about guys and keeping track of everyone at the bar, this was getting exhausting. 'Yes, I'm sure you idiot.' She thought. Tired of everyone giving her lip. Seemed everyone had something to say around here. God, putting up with Jesse and her bad habit of street fights, Mori's suspicions, Ryan's boyfriend. Fayth needed to let out a big sigh. Instead of sipping on that weak appletini like a ditzy blonde girl would, she straight chugged it down in one go. 'Fuck, that's gross.' Fayth cringed. A whiskey girl at heart. Her hand grabbed a hold of Jesse's arm and she made sure to look at her. Even if Jesse might not make eye contact, Fay kept a steady and intense gaze on her face. "We can pick up the tab in much better ways. Safer ways." Keeping in mind everyone around. "Like, I could give you such great pointers, girlie!" Flash the big smile for the cameras. Turn, pose. Then looking over at Mori, she pat her on the back. "I'll be back honey, I know you want to talk to me so so badly." Fayth looked up at Avery. "By the way, this sweetheart right here," indicating Mori, "She ordered her usual. Some juice. No alcohol can you believe it? It's like she's against fun or something." Fay turned to the door. Her scent picking up the blood easily. It made her hair rise and her heart race faster. The blood of animals, she could deal with. But humans? She wanted to stay clear of that path. It didn't lead anywhere. Nowhere except a place of tears and blood. On her way out, Fay yelled out over to Kalib. The other omega who in fact was doing just fine. Calling 911 was one half of the job, the first-aid kit was the second. "Get on the phone and call 911, alright? Sound good? Great." Fay nearly rolled her eyes click-clacking with her ridiculous heels on out the door. Once outside she caught sight of the tall, muscular Russian. He didn't look like someone anyone would like to pick a fight with. Not even a guy Fay would like to fight. Then again, if she could avoid every fight, she would. Not to mention, while Fay was coming out to check on Thomas' health (he was a solid drinking partner), the beep of his phone also interested her. A quick snatch of his cellphone could be nice. The item could sell for a few dollars. Good money. Two problems being Dmitri standing there, and Yvette also watching over him. Fay kneeled down with Yvette. "Do you know what you're doing? If you don't, say so right now and I can take over from here! I'm having an ambulance called because let's be real here guys, he def needs to get to the hospital." Fay paused for a second. Looking at Thomas who was bleeding out. "Gauze, anti-septic wipes, anti-biotic, use the goddamn gloves or risk infecting him, and hurry up and use that mother fucking adhesive tape. If you don't hurry up, I will!"</s>
<\|description\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Age: 23 Appearance: Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega?: Omega Background: Within the dark whirlwind of fangs and blood, the pup becomes a wolf. Those are the words of her father and the code of her pack; the code that served to create the trial of fire by which Fayth became tested and hardened. The vast, endless freedom of the Alaskan tundra imprinted its memory on her paws. Never-ending winter nights of all-consuming darkness still claw at her soul. Togetherness is survival, division is death. Year after year, the unforgiving words and beliefs of her father were branded into her mind and body by the brutal icy blades of wintry wind. Once coexisting with humans, the Bloodmoon pack was massacred and dispersed all across Alaska. Once the most peaceful, free, and united wolf tribes on earth was now broken and scattered. Fayth's father watched his parents die by the hands of hunters and the light of his heart became consumed with darkness. The old ways died, the time of blood had risen. Her father, rarely spoken of by name in werewolf lore, took on the mantle of "The Black." With fur black as the dark night blanket across calm waters he struck from the shadows with pearl fangs that spattered the snow-white tundra with rivers of crimson. The Black had no hesitation for the weak, cutting down even those of werewolf blood. He turned those who had the most motivation to kill. A pack unified through the bond of battle. Within time, he formed a pack that could move place to place all over the vast state of Alaska without ever being found by hunters. The hunters that did catch up were never to be seen again, or were posted in places where mankind could see the bloody message. The Black became more ruthless and cold as he went. He created combat trials where only the strongest of the wolf kind survived and earned the title of 'wolf' within the pack. Each and every member of his tribe has fierce fighting ability and a strong will to survive. None are afraid to kill. None have any love for humans. His ways blinded those around him because with years of survival they soon believed his code was the only one that worked in the new world. Perhaps he could bring werewolves back from the brink of destruction and turn the hunters into the hunted. Only one refused to live by the creed of fangs and blood. Only one would not be bound by vicious brutality on the road of destruction. Fayth Catelaya Nightshade. That is her name. Well, she preferred the last name of Nightshade as it was her mothers before she became a Frost just like her father. Any action to get further from him, the better. Life was peaceful as a little girl, but as the hunters became more ruthless everything turned upside down. Her mother was killed, and her father was no longer a man of warmth. He pushed her and tested her. As the oldest child she took the brunt of his rage. Oftentimes he wouldn't be able to look at her due to how similar she came to look like her mother. Trained in hunting, scouting and fighting; Fayth was set to be the Omega of her pack. The Black long decided there should be only one Omega. He believed in the idea of the strongest survives. There should be no weakness anywhere. On her rise she took all the scars one would expect. Her back is littered with the marks of her father's claws and his fangs. One scar next to her left eye stains her face with the reminder of pain every time she looks in the mirror. Longing for the freedom of running across the Alaskan tundra and the warmth of better days, Fayth had had enough. She betrayed the pack, breaking the permanent blood oath of never leaving the tribe. Before her eighteenth birthday, the day she would be permanently branded with the mark of the Bloodmoon pack, she disappeared. Her father looked for her. Sending scouts and her brother Marcus. Fayth didn't get away without harm. The scar next to her eye is one she will remember forever. She managed to get to the mainland United States and moved from one state to the next. Avoiding hunters and scouts of her father. It used to be every few months she had to move. But after having reached California and the town of Greyville, Fayth hasn't been touched for a few years. She enjoyed the times of her wild, on-the-run lifestyle on her own. The thrill of freedom, independence and being on her own became something she preferred. Settling with humans who fancied her, or other wolves was not an option. Attachment was dangerous because the looming threat of The Black always shadowed her everywhere she went. At this time she had called herself Fayth Morrow. Her striking raven black hair has been dyed a dirty blonde to look like it is her natural hair color. She changes her personality wherever she goes. In Greyville, she has played the act of a wannabe actress. Pretending to be less intelligent than she actually is. Though, one look at her deceitful sapphire eyes hints to a deep reservoir of hidden truth. Living a solitary life once more, she soon found her rootless living was unsustainable. Evading hunters, she found herself in this small town. Crossing the paths of other wolves, Fayth found herself in a fight. She held her ground despite a two to one disadvantage, and also had her first run in with Carlson Jakes. Fayth agreed to become a part of his pack as an Omega. Once more she lives in a pack, and this time under a leader who is sharp and resourceful without having to resort to violence. Though, Fayth remains as that mysterious woman sitting at the end of the bar. Looking at the world through the faint lens of smoke that rises from her worst habit. That and the mind-numbing venom she drinks down from the bottle every weekend, and even weeknights. She runs often, uses the peace of the creek to read books, and has fun at the local pub at night. Fierce, intelligent, manipulative, independent, and fiery. The woman of many faces. Who she has met, how it happened: Avery Upon arriving in Greyville, Fayth got a job as a waitress. She played the card of a blonde wannabe actress with a ditzy personality. At the restaurant, she works with Avery who she felt was a bit too curious about certain conversations regarding "dog attacks." And, she also works part time at the same pub all the wolves go at. Working with Avery yet again as a bartender on some nights/days. Carlson Carlson Jakes convinced her to join the pack after she battled with two of the betas within the clan. Mori If there's one member of the Greyville pack that Fayth needs to be careful around, it's Morgana. Fierce and intelligent. A cunning much like her own. While Fayth has somewhat eased into the ranks of the clan and become an Omega, Mori has not accepted her. Fayth knows when Mori's eyes are on her. There can be no missteps. She has to keep the mask on or risk her life. Ryan A wolf much like herself. Defiant, and in search of some sort of normalcy. However, while she feels closer to him than most others; she still doesn't like his reckless behavior. The pack's safety; and most importantly, her own life, are on the line.</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer He nodded in response to Mori's order "Right-o, boss." and left his seat to get the other omegas. Stopping himself mid-stride, he swiftly took the rum and cola with him. "No use wasting a good drink." It only took a few minutes to alert the other omegas that they were needed. As he left his empty glass on the counter (with a nice tip for the bartender, as he assumed they would be leaving soon), he noticed Fay behind the counter. "So there you are!" Relieved to see her back, he walked over to her. He lowered his voice a little. "The bosses need us, I think we're heading out now." His eyes caught a glimpse at the empty glasses in front of them, a little concerned but trying to not pay mind. "You okay there, Fay?"</s> <\|message\|>Jesse Williams Still attending her ever-watchful watch over her surroundings in general, Jess was about to get up and see what's what with Anton and Ryan, back there. They had a lot of private time. Seeing how lit Anton was when she disappeared and knowing how aggressive she got in that state, Jesse doubted they'd be making out in private, so it was probably worth investigating. But alas, something new happened right as she emptied her second glass of booze. Something exciting and amusing, too! Fay re-entered the bar, looking refreshingly furious. A nice change from the act she put up most of the time. Given it was a rather flawless act, leaving most people to believe she actually was some irrelevant blonde chick with half a brain at most. But you only needed to see her drop that act once to know it's a mask, the ferocity held back behind giggly, bouncy goldilocks was much more real. Being a rather 'natural' girl in that regards, Jesse couldn't help to smirk. Though she was a rival first and foremost, the enemy if there ever was one, she liked the fierce side of Fay. She was much easier to infuriate too. "What's up, hun? Got turned down?" Of course, Jess was oblivious to the presence of the hunters, didn't know what went down outside and had no idea the pack was about to pack up and leave. But even if she was in the picture, she'd very likely still poke fun at Fay. Upon overhearing Kalibs news, she furrowed her brow, shooting angry looks at him. "Whyssat? They playin' fun-police again? Somebody gimme another vodka, then!" The last part of that was directed at the blonde, since she conveniently had her ass placed behind the counter anyway.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir ~Anton~ Anton was rooting through the cooler cupboard and a drink had almost touched her lips when she heard Carlson's shout. She drank it anyway, discarding the bottle with a smash on the floor. Removing herself from the cooler room - shivering with the temperature change - Anton walked up to Carlson, her face red. "How come Fay ish aloud to drink and I'm not?! And Jess ish! 'Dis ish so unfair!" she nodded at Fay and Jess "I'm shure I can handled it better than them!" she spat with a slight slur. Anton picked up some of the popcorn nibbles on a nearby table and began shovelling salty popcorn into her mouth.</s> <\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Mori Mori clutched her teeth together to prevent herself from taking some heavy swings at Fay. She was being disrespectful, and Mori was getting more and more fed up with it. But it wasn't only her nasty behaviour toward her alpha female, that was a problem, it was also the goddamned secrecy that went along it. Fay knew something, and wasn't willing to share, which was quite typical of her, only looking after her selfish interests. Mori was sure of that, because of the way Fay looked at her. She didn't took Mori's warning coded in the form of her full first name. She didn't even twitch. Which could mean only that Fay already knew what was going on. Or worse, she knew even more, but ws keeping it to herself. It took all her strenght letting Fay strode away from her just like that, as she was smart enough not to start a werewolf fight in front of a guy, who might aswell be one of the hunters. Then she had do decide rather quickly, what her next move should be. Should she go after disobedient bitch of a Fay, and make an example of what happenes to those, who get on Mori's bad side, in front of a whole bar, or should she play along with the flirtatious one, and try to find out if he's a hunter aswell.She decided to do the latter, as she trusted Kaleb, the good Omega, to take care of things inside the bar. Besides, Carlson was there, too. She then closed her eyes for a second, the calm herself, and then bite her lower lip as in answer to the guy's interest. ''Oh, it's nothing. That was my sister. She is a bit...crazy right now. You see, she just found out her boyfriend was cheating on her with her best friend, and... you know,'' she said with a pleasant voice, and continued to scan this man's body. It appeared she was observing his muscular torso, when in fact she tried to spot any kind of weapon he might be wearing. ''You up for a drink?'' She then asked him with a teasing grin over her face.</s>	<\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow Carlson screaming at Anton. Anton yelling at Carlson. Fay knew Mori had something to say but didn't say it. She respected the female alpha for having some self control. Fayth nearly laughed at her own thoughts. Not that she wasn't a hypocrite to her core when it came to self control. Though, Fay at least kept her private issues private unlike others who needed to be a drunk slobbering mess all over the goddamn bar. Noise, so much noise! Fay couldn't shut it out. And of course, Jess just couldn't keep her smug mouth shut. For a sub-par fighter, Jess certainly had a lot to say. The whisky soon began its work. Coursing through her veins like a drug. A venomous snake slithering its way over every part of her body. Coiling itself over her and sinking its fangs deep into her being. The seductive venom gave her body a tingle. Quieting the rush and the bloodlust bubbling up inside of her. Near boiling with rage, settling down as the rumble of noise all around her was suddenly quiet. Fay looked up from the counter at Kalib. That lethal state planted on her face. "Kalib. I know you're new at this job. Just don't ask me stupid questions. I'm completely fine." She was unnecessarily harsh with him. But, Fayth figured certain members of this pack needed discipline. Most of them looked as though they'd gone far too long without it. An iron fist from an omega might do the trick. "Now, I need you to do me a favor. I suggest you take Anton here and escort her back home." Fay's gaze turned over to Anton. "Unless miss I need all the eyes on me who can't handle her liquor because she's a pathetic, weak little girl wants her face introduced to this counter top." Fay grabbed a white towel and wiped at the spot she bit her own hand. The white fabric being stained with blood. Now Jesse had the omega's attention. She smiled as she brought up a shot glass and grabbed the weakest vodka she could find stored in the entire bar. Pouring only half a shot. "That should be enough for you. You can't take much abuse. I've seen it."</s>
<\|description\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Age: 23 Appearance: Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega?: Omega Background: Within the dark whirlwind of fangs and blood, the pup becomes a wolf. Those are the words of her father and the code of her pack; the code that served to create the trial of fire by which Fayth became tested and hardened. The vast, endless freedom of the Alaskan tundra imprinted its memory on her paws. Never-ending winter nights of all-consuming darkness still claw at her soul. Togetherness is survival, division is death. Year after year, the unforgiving words and beliefs of her father were branded into her mind and body by the brutal icy blades of wintry wind. Once coexisting with humans, the Bloodmoon pack was massacred and dispersed all across Alaska. Once the most peaceful, free, and united wolf tribes on earth was now broken and scattered. Fayth's father watched his parents die by the hands of hunters and the light of his heart became consumed with darkness. The old ways died, the time of blood had risen. Her father, rarely spoken of by name in werewolf lore, took on the mantle of "The Black." With fur black as the dark night blanket across calm waters he struck from the shadows with pearl fangs that spattered the snow-white tundra with rivers of crimson. The Black had no hesitation for the weak, cutting down even those of werewolf blood. He turned those who had the most motivation to kill. A pack unified through the bond of battle. Within time, he formed a pack that could move place to place all over the vast state of Alaska without ever being found by hunters. The hunters that did catch up were never to be seen again, or were posted in places where mankind could see the bloody message. The Black became more ruthless and cold as he went. He created combat trials where only the strongest of the wolf kind survived and earned the title of 'wolf' within the pack. Each and every member of his tribe has fierce fighting ability and a strong will to survive. None are afraid to kill. None have any love for humans. His ways blinded those around him because with years of survival they soon believed his code was the only one that worked in the new world. Perhaps he could bring werewolves back from the brink of destruction and turn the hunters into the hunted. Only one refused to live by the creed of fangs and blood. Only one would not be bound by vicious brutality on the road of destruction. Fayth Catelaya Nightshade. That is her name. Well, she preferred the last name of Nightshade as it was her mothers before she became a Frost just like her father. Any action to get further from him, the better. Life was peaceful as a little girl, but as the hunters became more ruthless everything turned upside down. Her mother was killed, and her father was no longer a man of warmth. He pushed her and tested her. As the oldest child she took the brunt of his rage. Oftentimes he wouldn't be able to look at her due to how similar she came to look like her mother. Trained in hunting, scouting and fighting; Fayth was set to be the Omega of her pack. The Black long decided there should be only one Omega. He believed in the idea of the strongest survives. There should be no weakness anywhere. On her rise she took all the scars one would expect. Her back is littered with the marks of her father's claws and his fangs. One scar next to her left eye stains her face with the reminder of pain every time she looks in the mirror. Longing for the freedom of running across the Alaskan tundra and the warmth of better days, Fayth had had enough. She betrayed the pack, breaking the permanent blood oath of never leaving the tribe. Before her eighteenth birthday, the day she would be permanently branded with the mark of the Bloodmoon pack, she disappeared. Her father looked for her. Sending scouts and her brother Marcus. Fayth didn't get away without harm. The scar next to her eye is one she will remember forever. She managed to get to the mainland United States and moved from one state to the next. Avoiding hunters and scouts of her father. It used to be every few months she had to move. But after having reached California and the town of Greyville, Fayth hasn't been touched for a few years. She enjoyed the times of her wild, on-the-run lifestyle on her own. The thrill of freedom, independence and being on her own became something she preferred. Settling with humans who fancied her, or other wolves was not an option. Attachment was dangerous because the looming threat of The Black always shadowed her everywhere she went. At this time she had called herself Fayth Morrow. Her striking raven black hair has been dyed a dirty blonde to look like it is her natural hair color. She changes her personality wherever she goes. In Greyville, she has played the act of a wannabe actress. Pretending to be less intelligent than she actually is. Though, one look at her deceitful sapphire eyes hints to a deep reservoir of hidden truth. Living a solitary life once more, she soon found her rootless living was unsustainable. Evading hunters, she found herself in this small town. Crossing the paths of other wolves, Fayth found herself in a fight. She held her ground despite a two to one disadvantage, and also had her first run in with Carlson Jakes. Fayth agreed to become a part of his pack as an Omega. Once more she lives in a pack, and this time under a leader who is sharp and resourceful without having to resort to violence. Though, Fayth remains as that mysterious woman sitting at the end of the bar. Looking at the world through the faint lens of smoke that rises from her worst habit. That and the mind-numbing venom she drinks down from the bottle every weekend, and even weeknights. She runs often, uses the peace of the creek to read books, and has fun at the local pub at night. Fierce, intelligent, manipulative, independent, and fiery. The woman of many faces. Who she has met, how it happened: Avery Upon arriving in Greyville, Fayth got a job as a waitress. She played the card of a blonde wannabe actress with a ditzy personality. At the restaurant, she works with Avery who she felt was a bit too curious about certain conversations regarding "dog attacks." And, she also works part time at the same pub all the wolves go at. Working with Avery yet again as a bartender on some nights/days. Carlson Carlson Jakes convinced her to join the pack after she battled with two of the betas within the clan. Mori If there's one member of the Greyville pack that Fayth needs to be careful around, it's Morgana. Fierce and intelligent. A cunning much like her own. While Fayth has somewhat eased into the ranks of the clan and become an Omega, Mori has not accepted her. Fayth knows when Mori's eyes are on her. There can be no missteps. She has to keep the mask on or risk her life. Ryan A wolf much like herself. Defiant, and in search of some sort of normalcy. However, while she feels closer to him than most others; she still doesn't like his reckless behavior. The pack's safety; and most importantly, her own life, are on the line.</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer He took in Mori's newest order and went straight back to Carlson, observing the surroundings as he went. The pack sure did a number on the bar every time they got here, he felt really bad for the staff. "Carlson, Mori just told me she thinks there's a hunter here in the bar. She wants everyone to stay." He paused for a moment, considering his most previous order from an alpha. "Should I still be bringing Anton home?" He asked with uncertainty. Sometimes having two alphas was helpful but other times, like now, it was a little confusing. Looking sideways as Anton stuffing her face with table popcorn, Kalib certainly hoped that no trouble would come about because he was sure that Anton wasn't going to be any help if, say, a fight happened. He also hoped that Fay was sober enough to help if the hunter caused problems for them. Their pack was strong but if half the wolves were drunk then. . . It'll suck for them, big time. As he waited for a response, he kept an eye on Anton in case he really had to bring her home.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir ~Anton~ Anton could barely stand it. Carlson was shouting commands for Kalib to make her leave, this random chick was clinging on her and basically screaming at her. Then Ryan had said no more drinks purely for the mess she made. AND Mori said we're not leaving, so who knows what to believe? Anton screamed as loud as she could to shut everyone up. "I will leave, ok? But don't expect to find me at my apartment." And with that, she promptly stormed (well, stumbled) out, flinging everyone off her. 'Hm, where should I go? Ooh, I know,' she thought whilst walking along, 'I'll go to the dump. Nobody will think to find me there!' And, thinking she was pure genius, Anton set off to the dump. She thought nobody was looking, so she applied a bit of ye olde 'wolf speed, jumping over bins and all that rubbish. She made it there easily and quickly, and began kicking the dirt around, taking out her anger. After a while of getting rid of the hate, Anton sat down against the wall and began to silently cry.</s> <\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester ''Call me Mori,'' she smiled back at him, while leading him to a half-empty storage room. Inside, there were some stacks of beer cans, a few spared chairs, and a billiard table. Overall, a nice quiet place. ''Here... That's much better, isn't it?'' she asked, and turned around on her heels, facing him with a wondering eyes, while leaning her behind on a table. She then looked at the bottle she was holding, realizing for the first time just what kind of liver poison had Ryan given her. Oh, great! Since she wasn't much of a drinker, in fact she didn't drink alcohol at all, she had no idea, what kind of effect would that liquid have on her. She only knew that werewolves were supposedly able to drink more of it than ordinary humans did, before passing out, that is. Either way, she cared so much for her pack that she was prepared to break one of her most fundamental rules - no drinking alcohol. ''So, stranger, tell me about yourself. What is a man, handsome as you are, doing alone in this rat-hole? I know you are not from here, so don't lie,'' she asked him softly, while pretending to be awfully clumsy with opening that bottle in order to appear much weaker than she actually was.</s> <\|message\|>Anthar "Shadow Bolt" Raclaw Her eyes are stunning. "Well Mori, I hunt vampires for a living. I'm a vampire hunter." Anthar paused a few seconds, then put on a small smile. This wasn't the first time he had to answer that question, so he had an answer ready. "I'm joking of course. I am an artist. A painter. I travel the country looking for small towns like this. Small towns usually have the best views, and also they give me inspiration." Anthar noticed Mori was struggling to get the bottle open. "You need help with that?" Anthar pointed at the bottle, "What is it? Whiskey?"</s>	<\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow What, did I become a lightweight all of a sudden? Fay wanted to reach out and snatch the bottle of whisky back from Kalib. But then again, she couldn't quite blame him for thinking she was about to get drunk. No one really knew that Fayth had a rather high tolerance for toxic drinks in her system. Honestly, four quick shots of whisky made her buzzed but it was nothing in the grand scheme. Also, Fay happened to work as a bartender here on some nights. She could deduct it from her paycheck if need be! It quieted the noise of her mind. Helped her focus. But she sacrificed a certain amount of self-control, and the caged animal of rage inside could be released a lot easier. Somewhat of a bad habit when she needed to forget things. The only thing that blew off steam and calmed the blazing fire of her anger was the one thing she wanted to stay away from; fighting. Unfortunately for her, being a warrior amongst werewolf ranks was perhaps her greatest talent. Sometimes Fay got it, sometimes she didn't. She could be secretive and aggressive when instead she should try to remain as calm as possible. But when her life is on the line with hunters and potential enemy werewolves, it's hard to keep a zen master approach watching a pack completely fall into disarray. So unorganized at times. "None of you would survive more than a few days out of your little bubble here…" Fayth said under her breath. Watching Kalib speak to Carlson. Keeping an eye on Mori who was flirting with a hunter. There was no thought in her mind that said he could just be a deer hunter. Years of abusive experiences taught paranoia. Always thinking of her own safety. No one is who you think they are. Trust is not an option. Fayth understood the reasoning behind Mori's actions, but the omega wanted nothing to do with violence. Blood on her hands became old. Looking in the mirror at the scar on her face. It would never go away. Stains of death never washed away for her. Fay decided then it was time to change how certain functions of this werewolf clan were run. She hopped over the counter and looked right at Jesse. "Tomorrow at noon. Since you seem to want a rematch so badly, I'll give you one. We'll see if you can entertain me for even five minutes." Fayth took the direct route at Jesse's pride. Feeling there was no way she'd turn down the opportunity for a fight. Though, she made sure to keep her voice down to a whisper. "Just our legs and our fists. No weapons. Not that I'm scared of you holding a baseball bat anyway." This wasn't about pride anymore. Fay wanted to use this as a teaching lesson. To show Jesse just how much she had to learn. If Fayth could motivate Jesse to become a better fighter, the pack could be more well off. If Jesse became less aggressive, that could be a benefit as well. "Meet me in the woods by Grey Lake. You know the spot. You can probably find me by scent if you've learned how to track me successfully yet." Fay pat her on the back as she followed Anton outside. Fay's ears perked up as she took in all of the sounds of the night. The rustling of the leaves gently blowing from a soft breeze. Water from a nearby lake. Animals talking amongst themselves in the dark. Snaps of twigs, the wind caressing her cheek. Soon her scent picked up what it was looking for. Anton. The omega shot glances around her before running with her unnatural speed. Following Anton to the dump. Fay evaded bins, running with speed and grace. Landing with ease as she jumped over the last set of bins and found Anton against the wall. Crying. Fay trotted over to her, but standing at a safe distance away. Being a somewhat recent member of the pack, and taking charge of omega duties after Anton had been being demoted probably didn't sit well with Anton. For the moment, Fay let silence fill the air between them. Looking at her and then to the sky. Deep breath. "It's hard to lose a friend." Fayth spoke. "I know the feeling all too well."</s>
<\|description\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Age: 23 Appearance: Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega?: Omega Background: Within the dark whirlwind of fangs and blood, the pup becomes a wolf. Those are the words of her father and the code of her pack; the code that served to create the trial of fire by which Fayth became tested and hardened. The vast, endless freedom of the Alaskan tundra imprinted its memory on her paws. Never-ending winter nights of all-consuming darkness still claw at her soul. Togetherness is survival, division is death. Year after year, the unforgiving words and beliefs of her father were branded into her mind and body by the brutal icy blades of wintry wind. Once coexisting with humans, the Bloodmoon pack was massacred and dispersed all across Alaska. Once the most peaceful, free, and united wolf tribes on earth was now broken and scattered. Fayth's father watched his parents die by the hands of hunters and the light of his heart became consumed with darkness. The old ways died, the time of blood had risen. Her father, rarely spoken of by name in werewolf lore, took on the mantle of "The Black." With fur black as the dark night blanket across calm waters he struck from the shadows with pearl fangs that spattered the snow-white tundra with rivers of crimson. The Black had no hesitation for the weak, cutting down even those of werewolf blood. He turned those who had the most motivation to kill. A pack unified through the bond of battle. Within time, he formed a pack that could move place to place all over the vast state of Alaska without ever being found by hunters. The hunters that did catch up were never to be seen again, or were posted in places where mankind could see the bloody message. The Black became more ruthless and cold as he went. He created combat trials where only the strongest of the wolf kind survived and earned the title of 'wolf' within the pack. Each and every member of his tribe has fierce fighting ability and a strong will to survive. None are afraid to kill. None have any love for humans. His ways blinded those around him because with years of survival they soon believed his code was the only one that worked in the new world. Perhaps he could bring werewolves back from the brink of destruction and turn the hunters into the hunted. Only one refused to live by the creed of fangs and blood. Only one would not be bound by vicious brutality on the road of destruction. Fayth Catelaya Nightshade. That is her name. Well, she preferred the last name of Nightshade as it was her mothers before she became a Frost just like her father. Any action to get further from him, the better. Life was peaceful as a little girl, but as the hunters became more ruthless everything turned upside down. Her mother was killed, and her father was no longer a man of warmth. He pushed her and tested her. As the oldest child she took the brunt of his rage. Oftentimes he wouldn't be able to look at her due to how similar she came to look like her mother. Trained in hunting, scouting and fighting; Fayth was set to be the Omega of her pack. The Black long decided there should be only one Omega. He believed in the idea of the strongest survives. There should be no weakness anywhere. On her rise she took all the scars one would expect. Her back is littered with the marks of her father's claws and his fangs. One scar next to her left eye stains her face with the reminder of pain every time she looks in the mirror. Longing for the freedom of running across the Alaskan tundra and the warmth of better days, Fayth had had enough. She betrayed the pack, breaking the permanent blood oath of never leaving the tribe. Before her eighteenth birthday, the day she would be permanently branded with the mark of the Bloodmoon pack, she disappeared. Her father looked for her. Sending scouts and her brother Marcus. Fayth didn't get away without harm. The scar next to her eye is one she will remember forever. She managed to get to the mainland United States and moved from one state to the next. Avoiding hunters and scouts of her father. It used to be every few months she had to move. But after having reached California and the town of Greyville, Fayth hasn't been touched for a few years. She enjoyed the times of her wild, on-the-run lifestyle on her own. The thrill of freedom, independence and being on her own became something she preferred. Settling with humans who fancied her, or other wolves was not an option. Attachment was dangerous because the looming threat of The Black always shadowed her everywhere she went. At this time she had called herself Fayth Morrow. Her striking raven black hair has been dyed a dirty blonde to look like it is her natural hair color. She changes her personality wherever she goes. In Greyville, she has played the act of a wannabe actress. Pretending to be less intelligent than she actually is. Though, one look at her deceitful sapphire eyes hints to a deep reservoir of hidden truth. Living a solitary life once more, she soon found her rootless living was unsustainable. Evading hunters, she found herself in this small town. Crossing the paths of other wolves, Fayth found herself in a fight. She held her ground despite a two to one disadvantage, and also had her first run in with Carlson Jakes. Fayth agreed to become a part of his pack as an Omega. Once more she lives in a pack, and this time under a leader who is sharp and resourceful without having to resort to violence. Though, Fayth remains as that mysterious woman sitting at the end of the bar. Looking at the world through the faint lens of smoke that rises from her worst habit. That and the mind-numbing venom she drinks down from the bottle every weekend, and even weeknights. She runs often, uses the peace of the creek to read books, and has fun at the local pub at night. Fierce, intelligent, manipulative, independent, and fiery. The woman of many faces. Who she has met, how it happened: Avery Upon arriving in Greyville, Fayth got a job as a waitress. She played the card of a blonde wannabe actress with a ditzy personality. At the restaurant, she works with Avery who she felt was a bit too curious about certain conversations regarding "dog attacks." And, she also works part time at the same pub all the wolves go at. Working with Avery yet again as a bartender on some nights/days. Carlson Carlson Jakes convinced her to join the pack after she battled with two of the betas within the clan. Mori If there's one member of the Greyville pack that Fayth needs to be careful around, it's Morgana. Fierce and intelligent. A cunning much like her own. While Fayth has somewhat eased into the ranks of the clan and become an Omega, Mori has not accepted her. Fayth knows when Mori's eyes are on her. There can be no missteps. She has to keep the mask on or risk her life. Ryan A wolf much like herself. Defiant, and in search of some sort of normalcy. However, while she feels closer to him than most others; she still doesn't like his reckless behavior. The pack's safety; and most importantly, her own life, are on the line.</s> <\|message\|>Jesse Williams Jess reached the cold, refreshing outside unnoticed. The air inside the bar was stagnant as hell, but one didn't notice unless confronted with normal levels of oxygen. The young woman took a few deep breaths, looking like she simply enjoyed the prickly cold sensation. But really, she was sniffing out the trace of Fay and Anton. As soon as she picked up the scent of the latter, her strolling pace turned into a bouncy, accelerated fast-walk. Those two, together in the same place, possibly far off from possible witnesses? That had to end in a bloody mess. There was no way Anton and Fay would have a normal talk ever, Jesse thought. Too much bad blood, omega vs ex-omega tension. A great deal of that instigated by her own petty lies whenever she tried getting Anton to attack someone, no doubt. To be fair, this pairing was the most obvious target for any instigator with half a brain. Though taking her time at first, Jess soon became impatient. How far had they gone? What where they doing anyway? Did Fay maybe plan to beat up Anton tonight, in secret, so she wouldn't be able to help Jess gang up on her at the noon-beat down? As dishonorable that would be, it was not beyond Fayth. A woman did a lot of despicable things to save her face. A dirty smirk crept on Jess face at the notion, how far the shining example of an omega had fallen. The scent became stronger around the old dump. Curious place to go at night indeed. Jess felt the cold steel of her brass knuckles and clutched them in her fist, invisibly inside her pocket. She could hear two familiar voices and quietly crept around the piles of trash and junk, not silent enough to properly sneak up on someone with their sense of hearing, but not eagerly giving away her presence either.</s> <\|message\|>Anthar "Shadow Bolt" Raclaw Anthar twisted softly, not expecting the bottle to be closed so tight. It was. Failing to open it the first time, he tried a second time with more force, finally getting it opened. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Now she will think I'm weak. Trying to hide his embarrassment, Anthar smiled at Mori. "I think we're missing some cups." He turned around searching the shelves around him for cups. He spotted a few glasses sitting next to some utensils on one of the shelves. He took two and set them down on the billiard table, then he poured from the mysterious drink into both glasses. He put down the bottle and handed one glass to Mori and the other he took for himself. "Cheers!" He raised his glass high, then put the glass to his lips and took a sip. "Wow, that is some strong shit!" He exclaimed, scrunching up his face. It was stronger than that vodka Randal gave him when he turned 21. "Anyway, what is a beautiful woman like you doing alone at a bar in the middle of nowhere?" he asked. He could already feel the alcohol starting to take effect.</s> <\|message\|>Thomas Young Thomas A steady sound of beeps greeted Thomas as he woke up, the smell of slight death was in the air. Slowly opening his eyes, the sound of beeps was apparently his heart rate, and being strapped in a ton of IV and his arm practically in mummy wear, the white walls and the plain walls quickly made him realize that he was admitted at a Hospital, again. "Crap, again huh? Well whatever, haha." he said outloud to no one in particular. Noticing no one was really around, he shrugged it off "Well I was never really the popular one." he said then laughed in a slightly sad tone. Lying back down, one of the Nurses entered and became wide eyed at Thomas, quickly running off and fetching one of the doctors. The doctor came in and told him about how he was lucky and the like for surviving with that deep of a wound and blood loss, Well that's not the first time I've heard that. he thought to himself. After a bit of surprised faces and condemning tone about him not going to the hospital immediately. Thomas just nodded and smiled and they seem to let him off the hook, though one of the Nurses has been glancing at him frequently with a tinge of red. He raised an eyebrow to this and thought, Must be imagining it. After a bit of more talking and the like, they finally let him rest, with a sigh he lied back down on his bed and was about to close his eyes, reaching for his phones where he thought it was, patting around the area he quickly became anxious. That phone... It fucking has all the hunters information. Where did I lose it? Calling one of the Nurses, the nurse who came was the one who Thomas thought she was glancing at, though she didn't meet his gaze, he sternly said to her, "Would you mind getting the woman who brought me here, right now, there's an issue." with only a wondering gaze, she nodded and disappeared into the hallway. Sighing, he lied back down again.</s>	<\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow The Black "Follow him." Sound on the other end of the phone. "Your wounds will heal. Follow him." Fire glowed around the face of a muscular, powerful man. Scruffy face with the look of a man who had seen far too many winters. Where smiles went to die. Inside one of the caves they found in Greyville, The Black stood amongst his other spies. The entire pack was not present. Just The Black, his son Eric, and another of his trustworthy scouts; Jake. His follower who had escaped Thomas' traps and inflicted wounds on him was Deon. "Deon. I won't ask again." Silence on the other end, then sound. "Good. Text me the address of the hospital he ends up at." Click, the phone slipped into his pocket. One step ahead of everything. The Black turned to his son. "Put the fire out. We're moving out. I'll need you to keep watch at the hospital for suspicious humans. Notify me immediately." "Are you going to kill him?" "No. He might lead us right to your sister." "If she's even here." "I've been a tracker for many years. The trail continues here… I need to put fear and doubt in these hunters anyway." The orange glow within the cave snuffed out. Darkness as the men swiftly ran through the woodlands of Greyville. Running with unnatural grace and speed through the forests. Seeing in the night what no one else could see. Smelling and hearing what humans would miss. Soon the text came rolling in. Not long after, The Black appeared at the hospital. "Look casual." To this, Eric and Jake pulled out cigarettes and smoked. Looking around at anyone walking in or out of the hospital. The Black trotted forward. Boots on his feet. Dark jeans and a tight black shirt. His eyes an unnatural golden color that he couldn't turn off anymore. A trait he had gained from killing too many people. Though, he attributed it to a medical issue. Still, The Black did not fear to be seen by hunters like this. He disappeared into darkness much to quickly. The Black entered the hospital and exchanged looks with Deon who acted as a waiting visitor, sitting on one chair. Hiding the wound on his back and his leg. Healing quick. "Excuse me, my son was just admitted in here." "Name?" "Young. Marcus Young. His name is…" "Thomas?" "Yes." "One moment." The nurse left the desk for a moment. The Black leaned over the desk to see her computer. Thomas' information posted up. Including the room number. Within a moment, The Black was gone as she arrived back at the desk. Moving away and heading up an elevator. He walked down the hall. Boots slammed against the ground with heavy, ominous thuds. Arriving at his room and opening the door once Thomas's nurse had left. The Black strolled in. Grabbing a chair and taking a seat. "Hello, Thomas." The Black pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. "You don't mind, do you?" He didn't care. The Black lit the cigarette and smoked near Thomas's bed. Even when he lit the cig, his golden glare never left Thomas. "Those are some wounds on you. Must've been one hell of a knife fight." Deep breath. "Unless it was an animal you were hunting. A wolf maybe…"</s>
<\|description\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Age: 23 Appearance: Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega?: Omega Background: Within the dark whirlwind of fangs and blood, the pup becomes a wolf. Those are the words of her father and the code of her pack; the code that served to create the trial of fire by which Fayth became tested and hardened. The vast, endless freedom of the Alaskan tundra imprinted its memory on her paws. Never-ending winter nights of all-consuming darkness still claw at her soul. Togetherness is survival, division is death. Year after year, the unforgiving words and beliefs of her father were branded into her mind and body by the brutal icy blades of wintry wind. Once coexisting with humans, the Bloodmoon pack was massacred and dispersed all across Alaska. Once the most peaceful, free, and united wolf tribes on earth was now broken and scattered. Fayth's father watched his parents die by the hands of hunters and the light of his heart became consumed with darkness. The old ways died, the time of blood had risen. Her father, rarely spoken of by name in werewolf lore, took on the mantle of "The Black." With fur black as the dark night blanket across calm waters he struck from the shadows with pearl fangs that spattered the snow-white tundra with rivers of crimson. The Black had no hesitation for the weak, cutting down even those of werewolf blood. He turned those who had the most motivation to kill. A pack unified through the bond of battle. Within time, he formed a pack that could move place to place all over the vast state of Alaska without ever being found by hunters. The hunters that did catch up were never to be seen again, or were posted in places where mankind could see the bloody message. The Black became more ruthless and cold as he went. He created combat trials where only the strongest of the wolf kind survived and earned the title of 'wolf' within the pack. Each and every member of his tribe has fierce fighting ability and a strong will to survive. None are afraid to kill. None have any love for humans. His ways blinded those around him because with years of survival they soon believed his code was the only one that worked in the new world. Perhaps he could bring werewolves back from the brink of destruction and turn the hunters into the hunted. Only one refused to live by the creed of fangs and blood. Only one would not be bound by vicious brutality on the road of destruction. Fayth Catelaya Nightshade. That is her name. Well, she preferred the last name of Nightshade as it was her mothers before she became a Frost just like her father. Any action to get further from him, the better. Life was peaceful as a little girl, but as the hunters became more ruthless everything turned upside down. Her mother was killed, and her father was no longer a man of warmth. He pushed her and tested her. As the oldest child she took the brunt of his rage. Oftentimes he wouldn't be able to look at her due to how similar she came to look like her mother. Trained in hunting, scouting and fighting; Fayth was set to be the Omega of her pack. The Black long decided there should be only one Omega. He believed in the idea of the strongest survives. There should be no weakness anywhere. On her rise she took all the scars one would expect. Her back is littered with the marks of her father's claws and his fangs. One scar next to her left eye stains her face with the reminder of pain every time she looks in the mirror. Longing for the freedom of running across the Alaskan tundra and the warmth of better days, Fayth had had enough. She betrayed the pack, breaking the permanent blood oath of never leaving the tribe. Before her eighteenth birthday, the day she would be permanently branded with the mark of the Bloodmoon pack, she disappeared. Her father looked for her. Sending scouts and her brother Marcus. Fayth didn't get away without harm. The scar next to her eye is one she will remember forever. She managed to get to the mainland United States and moved from one state to the next. Avoiding hunters and scouts of her father. It used to be every few months she had to move. But after having reached California and the town of Greyville, Fayth hasn't been touched for a few years. She enjoyed the times of her wild, on-the-run lifestyle on her own. The thrill of freedom, independence and being on her own became something she preferred. Settling with humans who fancied her, or other wolves was not an option. Attachment was dangerous because the looming threat of The Black always shadowed her everywhere she went. At this time she had called herself Fayth Morrow. Her striking raven black hair has been dyed a dirty blonde to look like it is her natural hair color. She changes her personality wherever she goes. In Greyville, she has played the act of a wannabe actress. Pretending to be less intelligent than she actually is. Though, one look at her deceitful sapphire eyes hints to a deep reservoir of hidden truth. Living a solitary life once more, she soon found her rootless living was unsustainable. Evading hunters, she found herself in this small town. Crossing the paths of other wolves, Fayth found herself in a fight. She held her ground despite a two to one disadvantage, and also had her first run in with Carlson Jakes. Fayth agreed to become a part of his pack as an Omega. Once more she lives in a pack, and this time under a leader who is sharp and resourceful without having to resort to violence. Though, Fayth remains as that mysterious woman sitting at the end of the bar. Looking at the world through the faint lens of smoke that rises from her worst habit. That and the mind-numbing venom she drinks down from the bottle every weekend, and even weeknights. She runs often, uses the peace of the creek to read books, and has fun at the local pub at night. Fierce, intelligent, manipulative, independent, and fiery. The woman of many faces. Who she has met, how it happened: Avery Upon arriving in Greyville, Fayth got a job as a waitress. She played the card of a blonde wannabe actress with a ditzy personality. At the restaurant, she works with Avery who she felt was a bit too curious about certain conversations regarding "dog attacks." And, she also works part time at the same pub all the wolves go at. Working with Avery yet again as a bartender on some nights/days. Carlson Carlson Jakes convinced her to join the pack after she battled with two of the betas within the clan. Mori If there's one member of the Greyville pack that Fayth needs to be careful around, it's Morgana. Fierce and intelligent. A cunning much like her own. While Fayth has somewhat eased into the ranks of the clan and become an Omega, Mori has not accepted her. Fayth knows when Mori's eyes are on her. There can be no missteps. She has to keep the mask on or risk her life. Ryan A wolf much like herself. Defiant, and in search of some sort of normalcy. However, while she feels closer to him than most others; she still doesn't like his reckless behavior. The pack's safety; and most importantly, her own life, are on the line.</s> <\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow The Black A quiet chat with Thomas became a loud party so suddenly. First with the woman, and then the tall man with the gun storming into the room. From his accent he sounded Russian. The Black assessed him as the number one threat within the room, a hunter most definitely. A skilled one at that. Thomas had to be decent himself to get Deon so close to death. The Black himself had no intentions of getting touched by silver. Not today. Not on this night. He'd prefer never, but wounds in battle can be inevitable. He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a photo. Raising his arms into the air. A pistol outlined under his shirt. Tucked underneath the backside of his pants. "I'll be leaving soon enough. I simply had a question." The Black lifted the cig back to his lips and inhaled, while showing the photo to Thomas. "Her name is Fayth." In the picture she looked quite different, but Fayth Morrow had a distinct look in her eyes that could be matched anywhere. She might be able to pull off the look of a sorority blonde, but her eyes told a different story. Matching the look of the brunette Fayth of the photo who seemed to be pondering and full of thought. "Just someone I'm looking for. Went missing a while back. Six months. Maybe even a year now. The trail has lead me here. All I want his help. Yes or no is all I need." He looked at Yvette and then the Russian. "The name is Jake if you really want to know." "I don't want any trouble. Want to be finding this woman and be on my way."</s> <\|message\|>Anthar "Shadow Bolt" Raclaw Anthar noticed she didn't drink from her cup. He was going to ask about it, but before he got a chance to she put a hand on his chest and said seductively, ''Me? Oh, I just come here to lure good looking men into this room, and then tricking them into drinking that awefully strong shit of a vodka.'' Is she just making fun, or was there actually something in that vodka? Anthar wondered. But then he looked into her stunning eyes and she gazed back, putting her arms around his waist. At this point Anthar couldn't think about anything really, other than Mori. He didn't know what he felt, if it was love or nothing more than momentary passion, but he didn't really care. The only thing he could concentrate on were her eyes. And then, as if out of instinct, he leaned in, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her.</s> <\|message\|>Thomas Young Thomas Being intensely focused on this new stranger, he almost hadn't noticed his two friends, Dimitri and Yvette enter the room, both really calm for an odd reason. Though their presence really gave Thomas relief. In the flurry of mixed talking and threats being thrown around, he only heard about Fay which made him wince involuntarily and reply, "We have no reason to tell you anything of the like." Thomas replied with calm but forceful tone while slowly inching for his Silver knife. "Leave now, and there will be no trouble." he replies to him while also motioning Dimitri to lower his weapon, "I really don't wanna do anything here in a Hospital, so just leave right now." he said all the while now gripping his knife all the more tightly, "Three versus One, you think you can handle it?"</s> <\|message\|>Carlson Jakes Carlson Carlson was done. I mean, really done. He was tired, he was annoyed, he was just done with tonight. He was headed home, and no one was going to convince him to stay. Looking over at his co-alpha, he just shrugged toward the door when they made eye contact, and he left. He knew that the remaining weres were in capable hands. He had things to do back home anyway. Like toll out punishment Nanix Her shift was nearing an and, and boy would she be happy to kick a few of these rebel-rousers out. She started cleaning up her work station, making last call and giving out the last of the drinks.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir ~Anton~ Anton was breathing hard, and she cracked her knuckles. Fay's words lingered in her ears, "Take it, and you won't get another one..." That one free shot could be all Anton got for the night.. She was so far in the whisky.. Suddenly Anton's fists were acting of their own accord. Using her unnatural strength, Anton's knuckles aimed a blow at Fay's jaw. Anton was too far in, she would barely remember this in the morning. She could see the anger etching onto Fay's features, and got ready to run. She doubted she would get far, but she began to run anyway, not even using her speed. She was practically looking pain in the eye. Fay was bound to get her.</s>	<\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow A quick rush of fury and anger always seemed to get the better of Fayth. Storms of burning rage stirred inside her like a hurricane she couldn't escape from no matter how hard she tried. That part of her. That past didn't go away. Especially now when challenging Anton to punch her was not the wisest of words. But more unwise was Anton jabbing Fayth's jaw with a powerful punch. Anton was a werewolf, a former omega who earned the position for fighting prowess but lost it due to unpredictability. Fayth was the unknown who had only been in one fight between Jesse and another wolf who she battled off with ease. Anton had power. And despite being drunk, that fist still stung. The locked - now uncaged - heart of darkness shrouded Fayth's face with pure rage. Almost hate. Her eyes had changed from their cool sapphire blue to the unnatural violet gaze. The wolf was loose. Fay took off after Anton. Quick on her feet, a burst of speed as though she were spring-loaded on the release. Anton was drunk and out of practice, Fay knew it. Tracking her and even seeing her was too easy. This chase wouldn't last long. The night lit up to a bright yellow, neon green. The wolf night vision turned on. Smell of booze and the scent of Anton leading Fay right to her and she caught up easily. She naturally loved to run and ran all the time. But it was almost a thing she hated under her father. Long forgotten scars that faded on her feet from being trained to run so hard her feet bled and she still couldn't stop. Also equipped with the tutelage of her father in both boxing and kick boxing. Knowing how to use her legs and hands to her disposal. An omega fit to be a perfect killing machine with the storied wolf pack of Alaska. And she was right on top of Anton now. She leaped into the air and tackled Anton to the ground. Rolling right on top of her. Fay was quick to use her abilities and pin Anton to the ground and at last she clenched her fists. As her gaze met Anton's, Anton would be able to see Fay's soft gentle violet eyes looking down on her but with the look of a killer. Then something strange happened as the bloodlust inside of Fay was being unleashed. Incapable of holding it in much longer. Her eyes turned golden. "You miserable bitch!" Fay snarled. Her words still human but slowly shifting as the first fist reigned down and smashed Anton in the jaw. Then the left. One-two, one-two. Brutal punches. Her knuckles crashed against Anton's face like wrecking balls. The bones cracked against each other. And there was definitely blood. A lot of blood and when Fay inhaled the scent, Anton came face to face with the demon inside. Fay's eyes were blood red. Crimson flames of hatred, but not for Anton, something incomprehensible to those who did not know Fayth. Fay let out a primal scream into the air. No feminine noise at all. That was a roar of a monster. Her voice no longer recognizable. "You think you're life is so fucking hard, huh?! You think you know me?" Her fist cracked against Anton's face again. "Did you think I'd be afraid of you?" Another punch. "You don't know what FEAR is!" And in that moment, the daughter resembled the father. Fear incarnate.</s>
<\|description\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Age: 23 Appearance: Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega?: Omega Background: Within the dark whirlwind of fangs and blood, the pup becomes a wolf. Those are the words of her father and the code of her pack; the code that served to create the trial of fire by which Fayth became tested and hardened. The vast, endless freedom of the Alaskan tundra imprinted its memory on her paws. Never-ending winter nights of all-consuming darkness still claw at her soul. Togetherness is survival, division is death. Year after year, the unforgiving words and beliefs of her father were branded into her mind and body by the brutal icy blades of wintry wind. Once coexisting with humans, the Bloodmoon pack was massacred and dispersed all across Alaska. Once the most peaceful, free, and united wolf tribes on earth was now broken and scattered. Fayth's father watched his parents die by the hands of hunters and the light of his heart became consumed with darkness. The old ways died, the time of blood had risen. Her father, rarely spoken of by name in werewolf lore, took on the mantle of "The Black." With fur black as the dark night blanket across calm waters he struck from the shadows with pearl fangs that spattered the snow-white tundra with rivers of crimson. The Black had no hesitation for the weak, cutting down even those of werewolf blood. He turned those who had the most motivation to kill. A pack unified through the bond of battle. Within time, he formed a pack that could move place to place all over the vast state of Alaska without ever being found by hunters. The hunters that did catch up were never to be seen again, or were posted in places where mankind could see the bloody message. The Black became more ruthless and cold as he went. He created combat trials where only the strongest of the wolf kind survived and earned the title of 'wolf' within the pack. Each and every member of his tribe has fierce fighting ability and a strong will to survive. None are afraid to kill. None have any love for humans. His ways blinded those around him because with years of survival they soon believed his code was the only one that worked in the new world. Perhaps he could bring werewolves back from the brink of destruction and turn the hunters into the hunted. Only one refused to live by the creed of fangs and blood. Only one would not be bound by vicious brutality on the road of destruction. Fayth Catelaya Nightshade. That is her name. Well, she preferred the last name of Nightshade as it was her mothers before she became a Frost just like her father. Any action to get further from him, the better. Life was peaceful as a little girl, but as the hunters became more ruthless everything turned upside down. Her mother was killed, and her father was no longer a man of warmth. He pushed her and tested her. As the oldest child she took the brunt of his rage. Oftentimes he wouldn't be able to look at her due to how similar she came to look like her mother. Trained in hunting, scouting and fighting; Fayth was set to be the Omega of her pack. The Black long decided there should be only one Omega. He believed in the idea of the strongest survives. There should be no weakness anywhere. On her rise she took all the scars one would expect. Her back is littered with the marks of her father's claws and his fangs. One scar next to her left eye stains her face with the reminder of pain every time she looks in the mirror. Longing for the freedom of running across the Alaskan tundra and the warmth of better days, Fayth had had enough. She betrayed the pack, breaking the permanent blood oath of never leaving the tribe. Before her eighteenth birthday, the day she would be permanently branded with the mark of the Bloodmoon pack, she disappeared. Her father looked for her. Sending scouts and her brother Marcus. Fayth didn't get away without harm. The scar next to her eye is one she will remember forever. She managed to get to the mainland United States and moved from one state to the next. Avoiding hunters and scouts of her father. It used to be every few months she had to move. But after having reached California and the town of Greyville, Fayth hasn't been touched for a few years. She enjoyed the times of her wild, on-the-run lifestyle on her own. The thrill of freedom, independence and being on her own became something she preferred. Settling with humans who fancied her, or other wolves was not an option. Attachment was dangerous because the looming threat of The Black always shadowed her everywhere she went. At this time she had called herself Fayth Morrow. Her striking raven black hair has been dyed a dirty blonde to look like it is her natural hair color. She changes her personality wherever she goes. In Greyville, she has played the act of a wannabe actress. Pretending to be less intelligent than she actually is. Though, one look at her deceitful sapphire eyes hints to a deep reservoir of hidden truth. Living a solitary life once more, she soon found her rootless living was unsustainable. Evading hunters, she found herself in this small town. Crossing the paths of other wolves, Fayth found herself in a fight. She held her ground despite a two to one disadvantage, and also had her first run in with Carlson Jakes. Fayth agreed to become a part of his pack as an Omega. Once more she lives in a pack, and this time under a leader who is sharp and resourceful without having to resort to violence. Though, Fayth remains as that mysterious woman sitting at the end of the bar. Looking at the world through the faint lens of smoke that rises from her worst habit. That and the mind-numbing venom she drinks down from the bottle every weekend, and even weeknights. She runs often, uses the peace of the creek to read books, and has fun at the local pub at night. Fierce, intelligent, manipulative, independent, and fiery. The woman of many faces. Who she has met, how it happened: Avery Upon arriving in Greyville, Fayth got a job as a waitress. She played the card of a blonde wannabe actress with a ditzy personality. At the restaurant, she works with Avery who she felt was a bit too curious about certain conversations regarding "dog attacks." And, she also works part time at the same pub all the wolves go at. Working with Avery yet again as a bartender on some nights/days. Carlson Carlson Jakes convinced her to join the pack after she battled with two of the betas within the clan. Mori If there's one member of the Greyville pack that Fayth needs to be careful around, it's Morgana. Fierce and intelligent. A cunning much like her own. While Fayth has somewhat eased into the ranks of the clan and become an Omega, Mori has not accepted her. Fayth knows when Mori's eyes are on her. There can be no missteps. She has to keep the mask on or risk her life. Ryan A wolf much like herself. Defiant, and in search of some sort of normalcy. However, while she feels closer to him than most others; she still doesn't like his reckless behavior. The pack's safety; and most importantly, her own life, are on the line.</s> <\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow The Black Around The Black, any facial reaction was a mistake. Kane caught onto Thomas. Investigative gaze, a stare that cut through a man like sharpened steel peeling the layers of skin. Carving an apple. His mere presence seeping under the skin as though the person looking at him had spiders crawling on the inside of their body. "So. She is here. I suppose I'll have to be quick before she disappears. Fayth is good at that. Good at hiding herself. I suppose you know that already. And now you know what she is, but do you really? Of all the things I've ever seen or done. I've never seen a heart so dark…" Inhale. Exhale. Orange glow. Smoke in the air. The Black put his cigarette out on the nightside table by the hospital bed. The Black's nostrils flared. Taking in the scent around him. Well aware of Thomas's silver knife. "Funny thing about smoke. When you smell it, you know a fire is coming. Will you be prepared? It won't matter if the flame is too vast. Too wild. Everything touched turns to ash inevitably." He stood up from his seat. "I'm taking my leave. I have no desire to fight three on one even if I think I'd come out alive. The only mistake is thinking that I'm the one who's outnumbered." The Black strolled to the exit of the room. "Have a goodnight, hunters." As he left, he whistled an audible tune. The beat unmistakable. A folk lore song made by hunters and wolves alike about the bloodiest legend of Alaska. The words whispered so dark, so quiet in the mind… Once in the icy tundra the wolf pelts stacked so high, No man had to fear as the beasts were forced to fly But one night the blood moon rose, and so returned the pack Cocky men packed their guns, never to be coming back And the snowy fields turned crimson red from the night's attack Hunter becomes hunted, and all fears The Black… The Black… The Black… The Black... And so soon, once he was gone from the room. The Black and his scouts disappeared into the night like ghosts.</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer After some time, Kalib thought it would be a good idea to head back to the apartments. Things were starting to wind down and it didn't look like there was any important omega things to do. He left money paying for his drinks and an extra tip for the commotion they had caused at the pub. "There goes the rest of my salary this week." He mumbled, a little pouty that he didn't spend it on other things. Rolling down his sweater sleeves as he stepped outside, he noticed the intermingling scents of his fellow pack members heading somewhere. "Is that towards. . .Nah, they can't be there." As much as the night was dull, Kalib wasn't sure if he wanted to head in the direction of quarrelsome girls and get himself involved in whatever violent thing they were likely doing. Yet the thought still lingered in his mind. Should he go investigate even if it meant getting into or having to break up a fight?</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir ~Anton~ Wind 'Oh God, forgive me,' Anton thought as she felt Fay pull her to the ground; she struggled. Her auburn eyes met Fay's violet eyes making Anton feel like crying. Maybe she even wet herself. Then them scary eyes turned golden. What the fuck...? "You miserable bitch!" The words came out of the monster's mouth so quick Anton barely heard them at all. Her fist cracked into Anton's jaw. And again. Again. Her glasses slipped off the heavily bleeding face that was being used as a punch bag. Anton could no longer move her jaw, and her vision was blurred by red. Her silvery-grey hair was beginning to come out in clumps. Crimson blood. All over Anton's face. Fay could smell the scent, and so could Anton, strong and miserable as ever. Then... HOLY SHIT! Fay's eyes were red. Blood red. A picture of hate... for her? Then she screamed. Not like Fay - not like anyone ever. Male, and boy it was scary. "You think your life is so fucking hard, huh?! You think you know me?" Fay's voice had changed, and Anton thought she must be going insane. "Did you think I'd be afraid of you?" Another punch. "You don't know what FEAR is!" And in that moment where Fay went insane, Anton fell deep into the land of unconsciousness. Whether from fear, blood loss or both, it didn't really matter. She lay with her mouth slightly open and her eyes rolled up, seriously looking dead.</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer Against his better judgement, he followed after the scent of the three girls. It wasn't long until he got close to the dump. "Good thing I jog every morning." With piles and piles of trash everywhere, Kalib worried he might have a hard time looking for them. But then he heard the most gut-wrenching scream ever that made him screech to a halt in surprise and a bit of fear. "Holy Je- ! What in the world was that?!" Running to the junkyard's entrance, the omega cautiously walked through the trash maze in search of his pactmates. As he peeked around a corner, he saw his fellow omega hunched over Anton's body. Shock overcame him, it was like he didn't recognize Fay or that she wasn't Fay. But she was and that was the scary part. The stink of blood was everywhere and Kalib could see the red life coming out from Anton's head. He couldn't see Jesse anywhere but hoped she was alright.</s>	<\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow Fayth's fists rained down. A torrential burst of bloody knuckles smashing Anton's face in. Spatters of blood flew across Fay's face. Her crimson red eyes, glaring with fury. Inside, the true voice of Fay was trying to reach out. Stop the monster within that was created long ago and through no fault of her own. A darkness within her that was designed for survival of the fittest. If she continued to hammer Anton like this, it was likely murder would be on Fayth's hands. Then she heard footsteps come through to where she was. The mere scent of another person was able to slow her down. But she threw one more punch for good measure. Spots of blood on her face, hands drenched in it. Fay turned her gaze to Kalib and for one moment, it looked as though she was going to use him as her next target. But the color of her eyes began to shift back to normal. Rather than her human blue, the unnatural violet of both sides came through. She looked stunned when she stared at her hands. In horror. Realizing what she had done. "Oh god… Oh god! No no no!" "Kalib, help me… Please!" Her voice was a beg. So different from what she just was. Fay furiously scrubbed her hands together. "So much blood, so much blood!" Her hands ran up to her hair and Fayth couldn't stop dragging her fingers through her hair. Shaking her head. Looking at the point of sobbing. With all the will power inside of her, Fay dragged herself away and ended up curling up with her back against the other wall. "Make it stop, make it stop… Make it stop!"</s>
<\|description\|>Yvette Stowe Age: 21 Appearance: Yvette takes the appearance of a tall girl, being about 6 feet with messy brown/blonde hair and pale skin. She has a rather morning dew look to her and her eyes are constantly applied with makeup since she has grown quite attached to materialistic possessions. Without the eye makeup she has noticeably smaller eyes with dark circles from her lack of sleep. Though she has a rather jittery appearance, Yvette is actually quite lax and laid back. Species/Occupation: Hunter Background: They lived blissfully unaware of their surroundings, as happy as an average middle class family could be. What more could they want? They had everything; A house by the country side, two children, and a family pet to fill in that last missing hole in their heart. It was all so perfect, so perfect that even Yvette's parents sensed something was off... Yet they continued on, swimming in their ignorance and skipping on with life. Yvette was an average girl, with average grades, an average lifestyle, and an average family. She would always come home from school to greet her mother and father, whom would sit at the porch, anticipating the arrival of their precious children. Her mother was a simple nurse, while her father was a plumber. Though their jobs weren't too great, they made enough to keep their family happy and healthy. When had it happened? She didn't remember... But what she did remember were the faces of her parents as she was shoved away into the tight crevices of the basement stairs. It... Whatever it was, had decided to prey on her family. Her family that was just unlucky on that fateful night. She and her brother were discovered by investigators covered in their own vomit and urine, both children a sobbing mess. Her brother, barely being 3 years old had already been traumatized by the events that took place at their home. Thankfully, their uncle Roger took them in. Yvette's father warned her about him, how he was schizophrenic, and did odd things. But it turned out that his ramblings had ended up to be true, and what actually killed her parents was an adult werewolf. Revenge is what she had wanted, and so that is what her uncle had given her. She was trained underneath his wing, and soon prospered and surpassed that old crazy fool. When she was old enough, she left her brother in the care of her aunt, and went elsewhere to put her skills to use. Relationships:Dimitri Kozlov and Thomas Young: supposedly all of their relationships started in Alaska. She had ran into both of them leaving the state, when she was rather curious what their business was waddling about so late, she had decided to tag along on their adventures, seeing as they had somewhat common goals.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir ~Anton~ Anton, piercing Ryan with a stony glare, yelled (clearly already drunk), "In your opinion!" She wrenched her vodka from his hands, pouring in three Fireside Flamers and the vodka in at once. She gave a high-pitch laugh, and glugged down the rest of her drinks. Licking her lips - and wiggling her eyebrows at Ryan - she ordered their strongest Vodka. But why bother? It was like the weakest thing Anton had ever had. That's why she ordered so much. She slunk out of sight from Carlson, wishing she had done this while drinking the Vodka from Ryan. As she downed the rest of the super weak Vodka, she slunk away to the girl's toilets. As Anton made her way into the toilet, she puked straight away. Bawling her eyes out, she poured the remains of the alcohol down the toilet u-bend - unluckily forgetting to flush.</s> <\|message\|>Dimitri Kozlov He had been expecting it, honestly. The man had been expecting the anonymously scouted Werewolf cavern to be...stank, but this was a bit above what he had previously assumed. A figure stood in the dark of the forest, dark blue - or were they black, eyes narrowed as he peered into the lip of a shady, unassuming cave. On the cave's entrance, deep claw marks grazed along the rock, apparently by razor-sharp wolf nails, but this wasn't what made him pause. No...it was the pure amount of stink that came out of the cave. It smelled...like wet, furry dog, a dog that had been decomposing in the desert sun for the past few months, without disintegrating. There was also the smell of shit, piss, and blood, but the blood seemed fresh, while the other scents were stale. Stale, but still there. The figure twitched, and finally got the feeling of his nose back into place. The figure was tall, a bit taller than most Americans, with a muscular build, even obvious from under the dark clothing he wore. The clothing was tough; a form-fitting, long-sleeved black shirt, black gloves, dark, rugged jeans, and dark brown combat boots that held two straps on both sides, the long, metal hilt of two knives evident in the straps. A studded belt was wrapped around his waist, and it held numerous, compact black pouches on each loop; although, what was in the pouches, was a mystery. The man's face held the scruffy remains of a shaven beard, and his close-cutted, dark blonde hair blended in well with his surroundings. In his gloved right fist, he held a razor-sharp, jagged combat knife, the silver metal of the knife not even glinting in the moonlight, while, in his right hand, a dark black pistol was evident. His eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses, and although most would make a snarky, annoying joke about wearing sunglasses at night, these sunglasses obviously had multiple uses, the most prominent one being that it allowed him to see as clear as day, even in the night. Not to mention that it hid his eyes, allowing him to stare and focus on things/people without anyone seeing. The man gripped his combat knife tighter, while his finger edged over the trigger of his pistol. He took a glance at the motorcycle, practically invisible in the darkness, hidden nearby. Without a second thought, he silently dashed into the cave. _______________________________________ Werewolves were strong beings, but wild, unrefined...and generally unskilled. Dimitri cleanly slammed a stone-hard fore-arm against the snarling wolf's swing, his arm wrapping around the other beast's arm, while his knife-hand darted forward, the silver, razor-sharp blade easily tearing through fur and flesh to reach deep within the beast's heart. Kicking it away, the Russian Hunter watched dispassionately as the beastial wolf slowly formed back into the dead, wild form of a hairy, dirty man. This pack of wolves, hidden in the forest and mountains near Greyville, was one of the disgusting packs that preyed on innocent humans for no reason, other than their maddening lust for food, glory, and worthlessness. All around him, in one of the cave's stony areas, the bodies of gutted, stabbed, and generally dead werewolves littered the floor. Gas was slick on the stone ground, and as Dimitri began to walk away, one hand in his pocket, the Hunter flicked his cigarette - a guilty, once a month pleasure - and sped up slightly as it landed in the gas. The rev of a sleek motorcycle blasted through the mountains, as the cave collapsed in on itself, the fire having spread to take over the rocky maze.</s> <\|message\|>Ryan Jameson "Special's not up yet," Ryan said to Avery, watching as Anton downed her vile concoction and demanded more. Ryan just shook his head and put the whole bottle on the counter for her. "Southern Fireballs at two-for-five tonight. Russian Reuben sandwiches for six bucks, just as bad as always." Ryan gave Avery a wide berth as she moved across the bar. It was hard enough being a waitress at a place that didn't serve alcohol. Her tips might be a little higher here, but sooner or later someone became a drunk asshole and the nights got interesting. Speaking of assholes, he pulled his phone out as it vibrated in his pocket. Heading to studio. Call tmrw? "Hey Avery, what do you buy someone when you need to say 'Sorry I've been an asshole lately?'" But Ryan didn't stick around to hear the answer to that one. Anton had already plowed through the potato-based jet fuel he'd given her and was making for the ladies room. "Oh fuckberries." Ryan slipped out from behind the bar, following in Anton's wake until she went into the ladies room. And he dared not cross that threshold. "Anton," Ryan yelled, pounding the door. "Anton, I can hear you puking in there! Flush the damn toilet this time, all right?"</s> <\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow In the darkness of the clear sky night, Fayth held the last of a cigarette to her lips. Taking one last, long and smooth drag. The bright orange glow burned away as she tossed it to the ground. Blowing out a puff of smoke that hazed up in front of her face, drifting up into the nothingness above. She crushed the cigarette underneath her foot, grinding it against asphalt. Looking at The Backhouse as it began to fill with the familiar faces of her new pack. Fayth watched them carefully. Even those who were human. In today's world, knowing who to trust and who needed to be watched was a necessity. The only problem with that was one thing: everyone needed to be watched. As the new Omega of the tribe, her hardened gaze needed to be focused as ever. While this pack had survived and kept great numbers in the death rate, it seemed to her that they had grown too relaxed. Ryan had his stubborn, infuriating ways. His human boyfriend was becoming a problem of sorts. No one could know about their secrets otherwise everyone's life was in jeopardy. Most importantly, her own life would be in trouble. Fayth wasn't going to let anyone get in the way of her own survival. Then there was Anton and her foolish habits. Her sorrows and depression. Instead of getting on with her life, Anton had decided to drown herself in the venomous belly of the worst snake of all: alcohol. Not that Fay didn't indulge herself. She'd like to think she had herself under control when it came to drinking. Anton needed a lesson, fast. Every single one of them did. The more Fay thought about it, the more this monthly visit to the bar seemed incredibly stupid. A whole pack of werewolves in one place, conveniently on the night before the full moon. The same people. The same day. Every month. It didn't take rocket science for a hunter to figure out that something was strange about this all. Everyone was so undisciplined. It's a goddamn miracle they're all alive. Fayth sighed as it was time for her to walk into the pub. She worked part time there as a bartender, but on these nights she decided to take the night off. Be on watch for her fellow wolves. And tonight she looked every bit the part she wanted to play. Her dyed blonde hair let loose flowing down her shoulders. A pair of hooped earrings in. Black heels, and a tight black dress that revealed her long smooth legs as she strutted on into the bar. Her heels clacking the entire way as she moved on in. Fay gave a brilliant smile to those who were there. Especially the men. Showing off as she moved on up to a stool at the bar and took her seat. Placing her purse on the counter. The blonde looked around and spotted Avery immediately. "Hey gorgeous! Can you help a girl out over here? I need to get cray tonight. Tipsy! Ya' know? I'll take the usual by the way." The usual being an appletini that would probably get most men laughed at if they ordered it. She claimed to hate the taste of alcohol and just wanted that sweet drink.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir ~Anton~ "Yeah, yeah." Anton muttered, whizzing around and flushing the toilet. So much for "drowning her sorrows". More like drowning sick down a toilet. She was highly regretting puking it up; once a month was far too little time to drink good strong Vodka. She mentally slapped herself for not being able to survive the Vodka, and burst out the bathroom door only to collide with Ryan pounding on the door. "Ryan! You scared the shit out of me! Look, I heard you the first time, ok? Now I need more Vodka. And please don't tell me you only got one bottle AGAIN!" She strode over to a dank table that had not been wiped properly, sat down, and waited expectantly for Ryan to bring her anything.</s>	<\|message\|>Yvette Stowe Greyville, a place that Yvette knew was packed full of werewolves. By her research, and the research of others, and established pack was located in this town, however the only problem would be fishing them out and eradicating their very existence off the face of this earth. She let out a small huff as she stared at her laptop screen. A word document filled with her theories had been sitting in front of her for the past hour while she had sat around and thought... Man, thinking was hard. The young hunter leaned back in her chair and let out a frustrated sigh as she sat up and ran her fingers through her hair. "Dimitri might be up to something." Yvette murmured. He was already taking the initiative, in fact he probably might have already done something catastrophic. She shook her head lightly and paced about her apartment room, thinking of things to do before she would actually start heading out into the forests for late night hunting. Ah, well she could grab a drink? It wouldn't hurt to participate in normal activities once and awhile? With that thought in mind, Yvette gathered her hair up into a bun, put on a leather jacket to relieve herself of the cold winds and left her apartment to satisfy her taste for drinking. The young woman slipped into her sleek black Camaro, the trunk already filled with the appropriate weaponry for hunting, and drove off. Yvette took the fast and edgy way to the bar by speeding past signs which would probably end up with her mailbox stuffed full of tickets for disobeying the town's traffic laws. No matter, she could pay it off in due time. ---- The Hunter pulled up near the bar and exited her car, her hands stuffed into her pockets as she slid through the entrance and settled down at the bar counter. Well, since she was alone, maybe she should pester Dimitri? Yvette pulled out her phone and sent him a quick text. Lmao ay, cum 2 duh bar.</s>
<\|description\|>Yvette Stowe Age: 21 Appearance: Yvette takes the appearance of a tall girl, being about 6 feet with messy brown/blonde hair and pale skin. She has a rather morning dew look to her and her eyes are constantly applied with makeup since she has grown quite attached to materialistic possessions. Without the eye makeup she has noticeably smaller eyes with dark circles from her lack of sleep. Though she has a rather jittery appearance, Yvette is actually quite lax and laid back. Species/Occupation: Hunter Background: They lived blissfully unaware of their surroundings, as happy as an average middle class family could be. What more could they want? They had everything; A house by the country side, two children, and a family pet to fill in that last missing hole in their heart. It was all so perfect, so perfect that even Yvette's parents sensed something was off... Yet they continued on, swimming in their ignorance and skipping on with life. Yvette was an average girl, with average grades, an average lifestyle, and an average family. She would always come home from school to greet her mother and father, whom would sit at the porch, anticipating the arrival of their precious children. Her mother was a simple nurse, while her father was a plumber. Though their jobs weren't too great, they made enough to keep their family happy and healthy. When had it happened? She didn't remember... But what she did remember were the faces of her parents as she was shoved away into the tight crevices of the basement stairs. It... Whatever it was, had decided to prey on her family. Her family that was just unlucky on that fateful night. She and her brother were discovered by investigators covered in their own vomit and urine, both children a sobbing mess. Her brother, barely being 3 years old had already been traumatized by the events that took place at their home. Thankfully, their uncle Roger took them in. Yvette's father warned her about him, how he was schizophrenic, and did odd things. But it turned out that his ramblings had ended up to be true, and what actually killed her parents was an adult werewolf. Revenge is what she had wanted, and so that is what her uncle had given her. She was trained underneath his wing, and soon prospered and surpassed that old crazy fool. When she was old enough, she left her brother in the care of her aunt, and went elsewhere to put her skills to use. Relationships:Dimitri Kozlov and Thomas Young: supposedly all of their relationships started in Alaska. She had ran into both of them leaving the state, when she was rather curious what their business was waddling about so late, she had decided to tag along on their adventures, seeing as they had somewhat common goals.</s> <\|message\|>Yvette Stowe "The women want to get all in your pants, Dimitri." Yvette had a sly smirk as she sipped her beer, sparing the woman who catcalled him a glance. She shrugged her shoulders, and soon her gaze drifted and settled onto the bleeding figure. "How casual... Wait..." She whispered. The young woman's eyes narrowed as she had realized who that bleeding man was. She nudged Dimitri and pointed over at the lad, her voicing growing to a low whisper. "It's Thomas..." Yvette didn't know why he thought that it'd be okay to nonchalantly show up at a bar to drink... But whatever he decided, it was kind of stupid. "Mkayy... Well, I'm just gonna..." She slipped out of her stool to approach Thomas. "Welp, time to see him out."</s> <\|message\|>Nanix Erka Nanix Nanix frowned a bit. He was in a mood, huh? She put on a brave face, hoping not to look disappointed "Alright then" She turned away, going to serve anyone else who was at the bar</s> <\|message\|>Dimitri Kozlov Dimitri stared down at the cooled water, his lips pulling into a small smirk of it's own at the 'Hey boy' from the girl across the bar. However, despite this, his mind was running a mile a second, the man easily returning his gaze to the drink down in front of him. Something didn't sit right with him... Thomas must have had an accident, that much was evident, but he had only heard rumors of the wild pack miles away from Greyville, back in the mountains that he had just eradicated...so whom, and what, had the other man been hunting? A random wanderer that had gotten too feisty during the full moon light? An old werewolf that wanted one more bout before he keeled over and died? No...Thomas was too skilled for that; he wouldn't get injured by an old, waning beast. Not to mention that not a lot of people seemed surprise at the blood. Gripping the cold cup with one calloused, gloved hand, Dimitri took a long sip, leaning back at the bar and stretching his arms above his head. His leather jacket was made from a pilfered Kevlar alloy, capable enough to stop a wolf's razor-sharp fangs and claws with minimal injury...not to mention he had an old family friend that tailored his clothing and weapons, for only a small amount of funding, which was easy with the wealth his father had managed to accumulate over time. Right now, however, the jacket was making the already warm room a bit hot, so Dimitri took it off, rolling it up and resting it on the counter beside his drink. This showed the tears in his long-sleeved shirt, and a few splatters of wolf blood, but the blood had long since dried, and the scent was practically non-existant. Just to be safe, he rolled the sleeves up his forearms, revealing long, jagged scars along the skin. Dimitri threw his jacket over his shoulder, and finally decided to stand. Walking over to Thomas and Yvette, the Russian Hunter smirked slightly larger, clasping Thomas on the shoulder that held the injured arm. "Ты полный отстой." He commented, his voice's accent becoming a Hell of a lot thicker due to him using his mother tongue. Dimitri sat down beside him, slapping Thomas lightly on the cheek to make him alert. "Go to the hospital." His voice was blunt and direct.</s> <\|message\|>Jesse Williams Everything went as expected. People poured into the bar, both familiar faces and curiously unknown ones. Anton was at full speed too. Already. While it certainly took some strong juice to get her going, it never took long. While picking up the glass of cheap booze - "Thanks a bunch, cutie!" - Jesse decided to keep an eye on her situation. Always payed off to stick to the drunks, always came with lots of opportunities. "Picking on people you think are weaker than you, again?" While she didn't exactly sweep the room, her sense of smell and hearing got her a pretty good idea about who of the pack participated in the lil' monthly get-together, but somehow she still had missed picking up on Fayth. Odd, she thought, before the full extend of the blondes little 'poking fun/insult' hit her. Causing her to grind her teeth for a brief moment, before she put up the most sickeningly sweet and obviously fake smile. "Somebody's gotta pay the tab, right?" Her retort was anything if not odd. Confusing for anyone who didn't know her, no doubt. Jesse loved to poke fun at how uncomplicated it was to simply beat some poor sod into the pavement and take their cash, when the other pack members tried to live a genuine, honest life with a secure income like normal people do. To the average person she'd just seem like a careless thug thriving in the utter absence of the public law in Greyville, but to the pack she was a special kind of pest. One that didn't bother to fit into human society and shamelessly abused her unfair advantages to her personal gain. It was a thorn in everyone's side, specifically for those who masked their true nature and worked hard for their paycheck. She never bothered to hide her mugging deeds either, and often enough described them with a certain pride, just to rub it in and annoy the others even more. For Jesse, there was nothing negative about picking on weaklings. Survival of the fittest in its up-to-date form, as she liked to argument. Despite the carefree and self-ironical answer, it gnawed on her. The whole woman gnawed on her. She had planned to get back on Fay for a while now, for the beating she received. All it took was an (un)lucky encounter at night...preferably with two other betas, if not three. She had just to work out who'd qualify for the job and how to rile them up against the omega. Not an easy feat for someone who is generally making enemies left and right. Looking after Fay for just a second, Jess noticed Mori after completely missing her arrival as well. She made a mental note to pick a place that didn't put her back towards the door next time and gave her a respectful nod during a brief moment of eye-contact. When the bleeding guy entered the bar, she barely reacted. The intense smell of large quantities of blood didn't leave her completely unphased, but she managed to behave and not show it. Letting off steam earlier helped a great deal, too. Contrary to the general awe the bleeding man seemed to inspire, she payed him an impressed whistle. From one blood-splattered person to another. The night was still young and full of opportunity, and Jess was not nearly lit enough to pick a fight with someone her own size yet, so she decided to sit tight, sip cheap vodka and eavesdrop on Fay and Mori for the time being.</s> <\|message\|>Thomas Young Thomas His beer finally arriving to it, taking a long gulp before stopping and gasping for breath, he looked around and more people were giving him glances or even worried looks. He simply shrugs it off, he did however, raise an eyebrow at how some of the patrons began getting a bit more fidgety after seeing him, well specifically, his arm. "Probably the moonshine." he thought to himself before taking a quick gulp of the beer. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a familiar figure, though could barely recognize her because of the beer or the loss of blood, eitherway, "Oh, Yvette, is that you or am I starting to see things?" he asked her outloud with a wide grin, "How's it goin?" "Ты полный отстой." he heard from a Tall Russian man, with a really thick accent, "Is that Dimitri? No way." he utters but then gets a light slap on the cheek followed by, "Go to the hospital." "Well, hello to you to Dimitri, got even bulkier last time I saw ya', how is that even humanly possible?" he asked, still maintaining that stupid grin on his face. "This little scratch, I'll get it checked out soon, lemme just finish my beer" he said to him, but leans in and whispers in a serious tone, "Did you notice? Some of em' are eyeing my arm and even getting fidgety." A grin formed on his already smiling face, "Hah, fucking with you man, course there's no Wolves in here eh?" he said finally and finished the last drop of his drink, he get's up then stretches, and he also notices the blood spots and gives a bigger tip than usual. Right before leaving, he notices Fay, waving his injured hand at her caused the blood to smear on Dimitri's back, Yvette's face and a random customers shirt, bowing a quick apology to them, he quickly ran away and says to Fay right before, "Well, uhm, sorry I'll be leaving you with the mess, there's a tip on the table." After saying that sentence, Thomas runs out of the bar, hearing what sounded like a whistle towards him before hitting the door. Right after leaving the door and losing his balance, there was a beep that came on his phone, a message, but with Thomas being out for the count, he couldn't check it.</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer Taking his sweet time to get to the bar, Kalib walked with a pop song beat in his step and in no hurry to join the others. The Californian embraced the chill of the night air, savoring its freshness and relative familiarity. "The guys should be having a blast by the time I get there." He thought to himself, ticking off the names of his fellow pack mates as he spotted some dark drippings on the sidewalk. "Or, maybe the "fun" is just getting started. I really hope this wasn't Jesse again." With a sigh he began to jog his way to the bar, hoping to god that a fight hasn't started when a man came crashing through the bar door. The scent of blood overcame Kalib. "Whoa!" He exclaimed, dodging before the bloody man fell on him. Sure he was used to seeing guys literally falling out of the bar drunk off their rockers but what the hell?! "Hey, are you okay?" He questioned, careful not to step on the stranger or get blood on himself. "Say something, dude!" For a moment he glanced into the bar window and spotted Carlson and Mori --relieved the alphas were there. His eyes quickly scanned to find Jesse at the bar and thankfully not looking like she was the one to bloody this guy at his feet. Kalib turned his attention back to the guy but ready to jump into the building for some help.</s>	<\|message\|>Yvette Stowe "Whoa hey!" Yvette yelped as Thomas had attempted to walk himself. "Don't be stupi-" She was about to grab onto his shirt collar, but instead someone had caught him. "Uh..." Maybe what Thomas was rambling about was true? Her Uncle was right... And he was far from being sane. She immediately ran to her ally's side, yanked him away from the other male and dipped her head down. "He's in my care, sorry for the trouble." She cleared her throat, gave the man a long stare, and shook her head. "Uh, fuck. I need a med kit, because there's no way he's going to survive a ride to the hospital like this. Do me a favor, go inside and start screaming or something." Yvette propped him up at the wall and removed her jacket so that she'd be able to tear a part of her shirt to at least delay the bleeding slightly while whoever had so decided to help would actually do something. The phone in her back jeans pocket buzzed, making her raise a brow and check real quick before scoffing and setting it to the side so that she would be able to focus on her injured ally. "God damn... You really fucked yourself over." She murmured, shaking her head lightly as she wrapped the torn piece of cloth over his wound. "Please hurry up with the kit?"</s>
<\|description\|>Yvette Stowe Age: 21 Appearance: Yvette takes the appearance of a tall girl, being about 6 feet with messy brown/blonde hair and pale skin. She has a rather morning dew look to her and her eyes are constantly applied with makeup since she has grown quite attached to materialistic possessions. Without the eye makeup she has noticeably smaller eyes with dark circles from her lack of sleep. Though she has a rather jittery appearance, Yvette is actually quite lax and laid back. Species/Occupation: Hunter Background: They lived blissfully unaware of their surroundings, as happy as an average middle class family could be. What more could they want? They had everything; A house by the country side, two children, and a family pet to fill in that last missing hole in their heart. It was all so perfect, so perfect that even Yvette's parents sensed something was off... Yet they continued on, swimming in their ignorance and skipping on with life. Yvette was an average girl, with average grades, an average lifestyle, and an average family. She would always come home from school to greet her mother and father, whom would sit at the porch, anticipating the arrival of their precious children. Her mother was a simple nurse, while her father was a plumber. Though their jobs weren't too great, they made enough to keep their family happy and healthy. When had it happened? She didn't remember... But what she did remember were the faces of her parents as she was shoved away into the tight crevices of the basement stairs. It... Whatever it was, had decided to prey on her family. Her family that was just unlucky on that fateful night. She and her brother were discovered by investigators covered in their own vomit and urine, both children a sobbing mess. Her brother, barely being 3 years old had already been traumatized by the events that took place at their home. Thankfully, their uncle Roger took them in. Yvette's father warned her about him, how he was schizophrenic, and did odd things. But it turned out that his ramblings had ended up to be true, and what actually killed her parents was an adult werewolf. Revenge is what she had wanted, and so that is what her uncle had given her. She was trained underneath his wing, and soon prospered and surpassed that old crazy fool. When she was old enough, she left her brother in the care of her aunt, and went elsewhere to put her skills to use. Relationships:Dimitri Kozlov and Thomas Young: supposedly all of their relationships started in Alaska. She had ran into both of them leaving the state, when she was rather curious what their business was waddling about so late, she had decided to tag along on their adventures, seeing as they had somewhat common goals.</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer Kalib let the woman take her bleeding friend from him and nodded. "Right," and headed inside. He recognized the black-haired bartender and ran to her. "Hey, call an ambulance. Some guy just fell outside and he's covered in blood! His friend it out there with him but he really needs to get to the hospital, and fast." Keeping his voice calm, he tried not to make anyone panic. He told himself in his head that the guy will be okay so long as 911 comes.</s> <\|message\|>Dimitri Kozlov Dimitri scowled once he saw the guy ask for the ambulance, rather than getting a medkit, as asked. Maintaining his temper; which he was rather easy at, the Russian got up from where he was leaning on the wall, nearby, moving towards the bar's counter. Easily sliding over, he quickly located the red and white medkit, underneath the counter's tabletop. Grabbing it, Dimitri slid back over the counter, long legs quickly striding him over to where his two accomplices were leaning against the building, outside. His sunglasses were back on, hiding his eyes, but it also allowed him to see easily, despite the darkness from the nightsky. Crouching down, Dimitri handed Yvette the first-aid kit, before taking a few steps back, so that he wouldn't get in her way. First-aid was definitely not his forte, and he knew that Yvette had training in it...most-likely from her delusional Uncle. "Dumbass..." He muttered underneath his voice, once again, but it was unknown on who the insult was directed towards.</s> <\|message\|>Nanix Erka Nanix watched Kalib come and tell her to call 911, then Demitiri come and take the kit. "... something tells me that guy has it" She pointed to him. "you want a drink?"</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer "Huh?" He turned, seeing the tail end of a hulking man leave with something red and white. ". . . . Oh. Er, okay. A rum and cola, please. . ." Kalib said, awkwardly seating himself at the bar. He felt like a spaz for running in like that, and a blockhead for not going for the first aid kit. Attempting not to look as embarrassed as he felt, he leaned against the counter. "How's the night going for ya? Got a lot of tips?" With the multiple times the pack has gone drinking before the full moon, Kalib had began to favor this bartender more then her co-workers and silently scolded himself for not asking her name after all this time. Seeking a peek over his shoulder, he wanted to see if anyone was staring or, at least, not noticing him. "Man, you mucked this one up real good. How will the pack expect to rely on you when you're being stupid and can't handle getting the first aid kit." Chastised his mind. It was one thing being one of the younger werewolves in the pack; its quite another being a young omega who needs to do his job.</s> <\|message\|>Avery Wind Avery listened patiently as Fayth talked and talked about the boys and getting tipsy, her lips almost never stopped moving. It could be good though, at times. Especially when things got uncomfortably silent. Then Fayth mentioned something about a gross guy who needed help, and Avery looked around, her tired eyes frantic. Yet...She saw no one. Avery turned back to Fayth and squinted. "Fayth, are you sure? I don't see anyone. Did he leave, did he look confused?" She resisted the urge to rest her hand on Fayth's forehead to check for a fever. "If you're busy right now, I'll let you get back to your friend's while I make my rounds. Uhh, ladies, do you want anything? Refills, food. Anything?" She took out her little notepad, flipping it open and bringing out a mechanical pencil, covered in scratches and stickers of rainbows. "I suggest our cosmos with a strawberry topping or a lemon twist. Its delicious!"</s> <\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow Between talking about guys and keeping track of everyone at the bar, this was getting exhausting. 'Yes, I'm sure you idiot.' She thought. Tired of everyone giving her lip. Seemed everyone had something to say around here. God, putting up with Jesse and her bad habit of street fights, Mori's suspicions, Ryan's boyfriend. Fayth needed to let out a big sigh. Instead of sipping on that weak appletini like a ditzy blonde girl would, she straight chugged it down in one go. 'Fuck, that's gross.' Fayth cringed. A whiskey girl at heart. Her hand grabbed a hold of Jesse's arm and she made sure to look at her. Even if Jesse might not make eye contact, Fay kept a steady and intense gaze on her face. "We can pick up the tab in much better ways. Safer ways." Keeping in mind everyone around. "Like, I could give you such great pointers, girlie!" Flash the big smile for the cameras. Turn, pose. Then looking over at Mori, she pat her on the back. "I'll be back honey, I know you want to talk to me so so badly." Fayth looked up at Avery. "By the way, this sweetheart right here," indicating Mori, "She ordered her usual. Some juice. No alcohol can you believe it? It's like she's against fun or something." Fay turned to the door. Her scent picking up the blood easily. It made her hair rise and her heart race faster. The blood of animals, she could deal with. But humans? She wanted to stay clear of that path. It didn't lead anywhere. Nowhere except a place of tears and blood. On her way out, Fay yelled out over to Kalib. The other omega who in fact was doing just fine. Calling 911 was one half of the job, the first-aid kit was the second. "Get on the phone and call 911, alright? Sound good? Great." Fay nearly rolled her eyes click-clacking with her ridiculous heels on out the door. Once outside she caught sight of the tall, muscular Russian. He didn't look like someone anyone would like to pick a fight with. Not even a guy Fay would like to fight. Then again, if she could avoid every fight, she would. Not to mention, while Fay was coming out to check on Thomas' health (he was a solid drinking partner), the beep of his phone also interested her. A quick snatch of his cellphone could be nice. The item could sell for a few dollars. Good money. Two problems being Dmitri standing there, and Yvette also watching over him. Fay kneeled down with Yvette. "Do you know what you're doing? If you don't, say so right now and I can take over from here! I'm having an ambulance called because let's be real here guys, he def needs to get to the hospital." Fay paused for a second. Looking at Thomas who was bleeding out. "Gauze, anti-septic wipes, anti-biotic, use the goddamn gloves or risk infecting him, and hurry up and use that mother fucking adhesive tape. If you don't hurry up, I will!"</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer Catching Fay's command as she, too, left out the door, Kalib felt only a smidge better knowing another omega was here in case he messed up. He pulled out his phone and dialed emergency services, telling them the situation, and getting back to what he was doing. "If that guy really does need help, at least someone's coming." He thought, a little less dismal this time. Shoving the negative thoughts from his head, he bucked up and resolved to focus on his job. Turning in his seat, he looked about the scene with alertness. If anything else were to go wrong, he'd make sure he'd catch it (and that he didn't do it himself). It seemed that the usual suspects were at the bar that night. The alphas, a few betas, a bunch of townsfolk looking to have a good night. Even though he was at the bar, he wasn't expecting to get too drunk that night. It wouldn't be new if a few hunters would try to scope out targets a few days before the full moon and Kalib wasn't going to let anyone hurt their pack. Not on his watch.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir @Trinais ~Anton~ Anton watched Ryan walk away with hungry eyes and made herself comfy on her chair. She should really come here regularly - force Ryan into working weeks, perhaps? Anton didn't really know how she felt about Ryan. His eyes are so dreamy... She was awoken by a rapid voice in her ear. "You are done drinking." "Fuck off Carlson. I can drink as much as I intend to. Which, like all of the rest of my private life, is none of your business." Anton watched Thomas being tended to by, literally, everyone. She took this as an opportunity to get away from Carlson, and lifting herself over the bar, went into the cooler room where she found Ryan. "Hey, Ryan? I've waited long enough, where do you store my Vodka?" She began rooting through cupboards without waiting for an answer. 'Fuckin' Ryan,' she thought.</s> <\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Mori Did it only seem or was the bar really unusually loud that night? Sure, it was a rush hour, like every other month before the full moon. A pack of wolves ordering drinks, and causing minor troubles that come with that, then some other human locals, who were also more or less regular costumers in the bar. In all that crazy bunch, Mori noticed three fairy new visitors, who on a first glance seem to know each other. And yet they did not make an entrance together. That guy, who soon became the center of all the attention, bursting in the bar covered in blood, and then Mr. Muscles, as Fay called him, drinking water, while everyone around him was indulging in the mind numbing liquid. He sure seemed like a dream date for Mori, but judging from herself, she knew that you should never trust a man who does not drink alcohol, because they are probably up to something. She lost herself in thought with scanning the mysterious threesome, and completely overhead Fay's words about her not being fun due to drinking juice. When she finally got her drink, she realized all the fun had already moved outside, with the three strangers gone, and of course Fay, who seemed to take control of the situation pretty well. Strangely enough, that didn't bother Mori at all, what bothered her was the fact that Carlson was giving all the attention to Anton, who did what she knew best – victimize herself with overdrinking, and then getting all the attention for it. ''Carlson!'' she called for her partner, who didn't seem to hear her the first time. ''God dammit, Carlson!'' she called for him again, and then walked herself right next to him, right at the moment Antony managed to get away from his norturing grip. ''Something's up,'' she said through her teeth, looking at Carlson to see if he was monitoring his surroundings at all. ''Something is not right here. I can feel it.''</s>	<\|message\|>Yvette Stowe "I would prefer it if you move away..." Yvette murmured. She dug through the medical kit, working quickly to at least clot the wound so that the flow of blood would cease. "The wound isn't too harsh, however it is rather deep, but not deep enough to scratch the surface of the bone. It isn't as dire as you think, it was earlier because he did nothing but sit and drink nonchalantly as if nothing had ever happened, and during that timeframe he lost quite a bit of blood." Well, time to put her uncle's teachings into use. She rubbed her hands on her pants, slipped on the gloves the kit had given her and began to pour hydrogen peroxide onto a sterilized piece of cloth. Antibiotics were important yet surprisingly missing from the medical kit, however that could be settled at the emergency room of the hospital, for now Yvette would have to settle with simply cleaning the wound, then dressing it with a decent layer of gauze and a compression bandage from another piece of cloth. "I can drive to the hospital faster than an ambulance can arrive, so don't waste your time with calling it." Yvette closed the lit, placed it into the hands of Dimitri, then wrapped Thomas' un-injured arm over her shoulders so that she was able to slide him into the back seat of her Camaro. "I appreciate the help though." She headed over to the drivers seat and rolled down the window. "Dimitri, meet us at the hospital, afterwards we'll talk." Yvette gave him a small nod, then drove off. "This would have been a lot easier if someone had decided to go get treated instead of drink... What a pain in my ass. I'm no den mother." She grunted and slammed her fist onto her car horn, honking it violently as she whizzed past cars to make it to the hospital in a short amount of time.</s>
<\|description\|>Yvette Stowe Age: 21 Appearance: Yvette takes the appearance of a tall girl, being about 6 feet with messy brown/blonde hair and pale skin. She has a rather morning dew look to her and her eyes are constantly applied with makeup since she has grown quite attached to materialistic possessions. Without the eye makeup she has noticeably smaller eyes with dark circles from her lack of sleep. Though she has a rather jittery appearance, Yvette is actually quite lax and laid back. Species/Occupation: Hunter Background: They lived blissfully unaware of their surroundings, as happy as an average middle class family could be. What more could they want? They had everything; A house by the country side, two children, and a family pet to fill in that last missing hole in their heart. It was all so perfect, so perfect that even Yvette's parents sensed something was off... Yet they continued on, swimming in their ignorance and skipping on with life. Yvette was an average girl, with average grades, an average lifestyle, and an average family. She would always come home from school to greet her mother and father, whom would sit at the porch, anticipating the arrival of their precious children. Her mother was a simple nurse, while her father was a plumber. Though their jobs weren't too great, they made enough to keep their family happy and healthy. When had it happened? She didn't remember... But what she did remember were the faces of her parents as she was shoved away into the tight crevices of the basement stairs. It... Whatever it was, had decided to prey on her family. Her family that was just unlucky on that fateful night. She and her brother were discovered by investigators covered in their own vomit and urine, both children a sobbing mess. Her brother, barely being 3 years old had already been traumatized by the events that took place at their home. Thankfully, their uncle Roger took them in. Yvette's father warned her about him, how he was schizophrenic, and did odd things. But it turned out that his ramblings had ended up to be true, and what actually killed her parents was an adult werewolf. Revenge is what she had wanted, and so that is what her uncle had given her. She was trained underneath his wing, and soon prospered and surpassed that old crazy fool. When she was old enough, she left her brother in the care of her aunt, and went elsewhere to put her skills to use. Relationships:Dimitri Kozlov and Thomas Young: supposedly all of their relationships started in Alaska. She had ran into both of them leaving the state, when she was rather curious what their business was waddling about so late, she had decided to tag along on their adventures, seeing as they had somewhat common goals.</s> <\|message\|>Jesse Williams Jess reached the cold, refreshing outside unnoticed. The air inside the bar was stagnant as hell, but one didn't notice unless confronted with normal levels of oxygen. The young woman took a few deep breaths, looking like she simply enjoyed the prickly cold sensation. But really, she was sniffing out the trace of Fay and Anton. As soon as she picked up the scent of the latter, her strolling pace turned into a bouncy, accelerated fast-walk. Those two, together in the same place, possibly far off from possible witnesses? That had to end in a bloody mess. There was no way Anton and Fay would have a normal talk ever, Jesse thought. Too much bad blood, omega vs ex-omega tension. A great deal of that instigated by her own petty lies whenever she tried getting Anton to attack someone, no doubt. To be fair, this pairing was the most obvious target for any instigator with half a brain. Though taking her time at first, Jess soon became impatient. How far had they gone? What where they doing anyway? Did Fay maybe plan to beat up Anton tonight, in secret, so she wouldn't be able to help Jess gang up on her at the noon-beat down? As dishonorable that would be, it was not beyond Fayth. A woman did a lot of despicable things to save her face. A dirty smirk crept on Jess face at the notion, how far the shining example of an omega had fallen. The scent became stronger around the old dump. Curious place to go at night indeed. Jess felt the cold steel of her brass knuckles and clutched them in her fist, invisibly inside her pocket. She could hear two familiar voices and quietly crept around the piles of trash and junk, not silent enough to properly sneak up on someone with their sense of hearing, but not eagerly giving away her presence either.</s> <\|message\|>Anthar "Shadow Bolt" Raclaw Anthar twisted softly, not expecting the bottle to be closed so tight. It was. Failing to open it the first time, he tried a second time with more force, finally getting it opened. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Now she will think I'm weak. Trying to hide his embarrassment, Anthar smiled at Mori. "I think we're missing some cups." He turned around searching the shelves around him for cups. He spotted a few glasses sitting next to some utensils on one of the shelves. He took two and set them down on the billiard table, then he poured from the mysterious drink into both glasses. He put down the bottle and handed one glass to Mori and the other he took for himself. "Cheers!" He raised his glass high, then put the glass to his lips and took a sip. "Wow, that is some strong shit!" He exclaimed, scrunching up his face. It was stronger than that vodka Randal gave him when he turned 21. "Anyway, what is a beautiful woman like you doing alone at a bar in the middle of nowhere?" he asked. He could already feel the alcohol starting to take effect.</s> <\|message\|>Thomas Young Thomas A steady sound of beeps greeted Thomas as he woke up, the smell of slight death was in the air. Slowly opening his eyes, the sound of beeps was apparently his heart rate, and being strapped in a ton of IV and his arm practically in mummy wear, the white walls and the plain walls quickly made him realize that he was admitted at a Hospital, again. "Crap, again huh? Well whatever, haha." he said outloud to no one in particular. Noticing no one was really around, he shrugged it off "Well I was never really the popular one." he said then laughed in a slightly sad tone. Lying back down, one of the Nurses entered and became wide eyed at Thomas, quickly running off and fetching one of the doctors. The doctor came in and told him about how he was lucky and the like for surviving with that deep of a wound and blood loss, Well that's not the first time I've heard that. he thought to himself. After a bit of surprised faces and condemning tone about him not going to the hospital immediately. Thomas just nodded and smiled and they seem to let him off the hook, though one of the Nurses has been glancing at him frequently with a tinge of red. He raised an eyebrow to this and thought, Must be imagining it. After a bit of more talking and the like, they finally let him rest, with a sigh he lied back down on his bed and was about to close his eyes, reaching for his phones where he thought it was, patting around the area he quickly became anxious. That phone... It fucking has all the hunters information. Where did I lose it? Calling one of the Nurses, the nurse who came was the one who Thomas thought she was glancing at, though she didn't meet his gaze, he sternly said to her, "Would you mind getting the woman who brought me here, right now, there's an issue." with only a wondering gaze, she nodded and disappeared into the hallway. Sighing, he lied back down again.</s> <\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow The Black "Follow him." Sound on the other end of the phone. "Your wounds will heal. Follow him." Fire glowed around the face of a muscular, powerful man. Scruffy face with the look of a man who had seen far too many winters. Where smiles went to die. Inside one of the caves they found in Greyville, The Black stood amongst his other spies. The entire pack was not present. Just The Black, his son Eric, and another of his trustworthy scouts; Jake. His follower who had escaped Thomas' traps and inflicted wounds on him was Deon. "Deon. I won't ask again." Silence on the other end, then sound. "Good. Text me the address of the hospital he ends up at." Click, the phone slipped into his pocket. One step ahead of everything. The Black turned to his son. "Put the fire out. We're moving out. I'll need you to keep watch at the hospital for suspicious humans. Notify me immediately." "Are you going to kill him?" "No. He might lead us right to your sister." "If she's even here." "I've been a tracker for many years. The trail continues here… I need to put fear and doubt in these hunters anyway." The orange glow within the cave snuffed out. Darkness as the men swiftly ran through the woodlands of Greyville. Running with unnatural grace and speed through the forests. Seeing in the night what no one else could see. Smelling and hearing what humans would miss. Soon the text came rolling in. Not long after, The Black appeared at the hospital. "Look casual." To this, Eric and Jake pulled out cigarettes and smoked. Looking around at anyone walking in or out of the hospital. The Black trotted forward. Boots on his feet. Dark jeans and a tight black shirt. His eyes an unnatural golden color that he couldn't turn off anymore. A trait he had gained from killing too many people. Though, he attributed it to a medical issue. Still, The Black did not fear to be seen by hunters like this. He disappeared into darkness much to quickly. The Black entered the hospital and exchanged looks with Deon who acted as a waiting visitor, sitting on one chair. Hiding the wound on his back and his leg. Healing quick. "Excuse me, my son was just admitted in here." "Name?" "Young. Marcus Young. His name is…" "Thomas?" "Yes." "One moment." The nurse left the desk for a moment. The Black leaned over the desk to see her computer. Thomas' information posted up. Including the room number. Within a moment, The Black was gone as she arrived back at the desk. Moving away and heading up an elevator. He walked down the hall. Boots slammed against the ground with heavy, ominous thuds. Arriving at his room and opening the door once Thomas's nurse had left. The Black strolled in. Grabbing a chair and taking a seat. "Hello, Thomas." The Black pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. "You don't mind, do you?" He didn't care. The Black lit the cigarette and smoked near Thomas's bed. Even when he lit the cig, his golden glare never left Thomas. "Those are some wounds on you. Must've been one hell of a knife fight." Deep breath. "Unless it was an animal you were hunting. A wolf maybe…"</s> <\|message\|>Thomas Young Thomas As he was lying down on his bed, the constant beeps of his heart rate became white noise to him. He was about to fall back to sleep due to the comfy bed he was lying on, this was till an immense feeling of dread filled his being. He looked around and saw a tall, figure, his very presence oozed fear, not towards him, but to others around him. His presence choked up Thomas, if there were ever alarms in your head that tells you something is dangerous, this was the time. He entered the room, then strides to a chair and quickly gets comfortable. Thomas' fight or flight kicked in and his adrenaline started to pump. "Hello, Thomas." said the tall frame with a cold and menacing tone, "You don't mind, do you?" while lighting a cigarette, with no apparent care for Thomas' consent. His Golden eyes was an oddity that perturbed Thomas, he couldn't help but feel a bit unnerved. "Those are some wounds on you. Must've been one hell of a knife fight." he said with a deep breath, glare never leaving his own, "Unless it was an animal you were hunting. A wolf maybe…" Through general conception and judging by his demeanor and cold eyes, he had already figured out this intimidating stranger was infact a werewolf. "Who are you." was the only phrase Thomas was able to choke out, practically glaring at him at this point.</s> <\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Oh, for God's sake, you don't have to pretend. I know you hunters aren't as strong. She thought while observing him struggle with opening that bottle. While he was searching for the cups, Mori listened to the sounds coming from the bar, trying to distinguish what was going on in there. Since there was no sound of screaming, yelling or breaking things, she concluded that everything was alright. With hidden disgust she took the cup Anthar had given her, and clenched her fingers around it, wondering how could she get herself out of drinking alcohol. She followed Anthar's example, and raised her cup high in the air, only to then lower it again, far from her lips. His particular facial expression was enough proof to her, that she made a right decision not taking a sip. If Jet Fuel did that to him, God knows what would have done to Mori. But since she couldn't just stand there with a full cup in her hands, she had to act quickly. After his question, she took a few steps forward, and landed her hand gently on his chest. She licked her lips while observing his, and then raise her gaze up to his eyes. ''Me? Oh, I just come here to lure good looking men into this room, and then tricking them into drinking that awefully strong shit of a vodka,'' she smiled temptingly, sliding her hands to the sides of his waist as she was slowly to hug him.</s>	<\|message\|>Yvette Stowe "Ahem..." Yvette cleared her throat as she leaned on the doorframe, her eyes glancing back and forth between Thomas and the mysterious man. "You're no guest here... Even I know that." She said, glancing down at her nails, then back up at the man in his seat. "Should I call security and take you out?" The girl closed the door behind her and stood near Thomas' bed, her hand resting on the plastic arm. The nurse had managed to call her in on time, and thankfully before things seemingly grew dark and heated... This man... Whomever he was, he was not here to make friends, obviously. This raised suspicions... A lot in fact. "Mhm..." The young woman pulled a chair of her own and sat down with her legs crossed and on her lap. "Isn't this quaint?" She said, giving them both a small smile before frowning and leaning back. "Do I have to call security or are you able to leave yourself, sir?"</s>
<\|description\|>Jesse Williams Age: 24 Appearance: Human, werewolf or hunter?: Beta Werewolf Background: Jesse was born as a werewolf and raised as a werewolf, with all the hardships of being the youngest cub in the pack. She was the last 'naturally' born member of her old pack and thus lived a life at the low end of the pecking order for more than twenty years. This majorly contributed to her bully-esque character and the rebellious demeanor that comes with it. Jesse's old pack was essentially the werewolf equivalent to human gypsies. They wandered between cities frequently, always claiming a set 'turf' for a while before moving on to the next city or town. They were loud and aggressive and drawing general attention required them to change locations before people asked too many questions. As one would expect, an almost permanently drunk crowd of rowdy werewolves didn't interact in the smoothest ways with other packs, so fights with other covenants were not unheard of. After building a bad reputation among their kin for some years, warm welcomes from other packs were somewhat rare. The pack eventually dissolved when their alphas fell to rebelling omegas, and said omegas succumbed to their injuries afterwards. With nobody to lead the pack, they fell apart in less than a month and scattered in all directions. During her time at the wandering pack, Jesse always was the weakest link. She was never physically weak, on the contrary - being bullied by a pack of aggressive and highly violent werewolves put her in a fairly well-conditioned state. However, she lacked a certain finesse, the dexterity to use her power for anything more than a pair of bone-breaking fists. Her defense against her fellows lacked unpredictability or skill, she never made it past being a brutal thug and this pack lacked all forms of benevolence, so nobody trained her. In the past, new werewolves were born into the pack who would take over the position of the general 'victim', but the digress of werewolf birth damned Jesse to a life at the bottom of the food chain. As a result of twenty years worth of punishment for being the youngest cub, she turned into a fairly violent, erratic slugger herself. Being superior to humans only, she let off all the steam from being subdued on human street gangs and thugs. She always tries to act reasonably 'human' around them - masking her unnaturally strong punches by using baseball bats for example, broken bones from a bat swing are a lot less unusual than from a casual backhand after all. Mostly taking it out on gangs also let her avoid unnecessary attention, police forces never really care when the victims of a brawl have comprehensive criminal records. Despite all the precaution, she has a few murder-stains on her slate, none of which can be connected to her directly though. Another feature she gained during her time at the wandering pack is the affection for her 'turf'. To this day, she considers the area she lives in as her property and takes the right to represent the law. In other words, to beat shady characters into a bloody pulp at will. This and her general fixation on human interaction (playing 'gang wars' with the lesser creatures and such) is usually met with disapproval from other wolves. It also gets her in trouble frequently as it draws attention of less benevolent wolf packs or hunters. Beyond her highly ranked position in human gang interactions, she's still a lowlife in werewolf society. Jesse is a coward that doesn't hesitate to switch to the winning side in times of conflict. She's the kind of person who instigates mutiny, stays out of the actual fight and then gangs up on the already defeated party. Though she has little more to offer than brute force in a combat scenario, she's by no means stupid and constantly tries to manipulate people around her for her own advantage. After the downfall of the wandering pack, Jesse lived alone and on the streets for a while. She didn't really encourage the humans to, but a gang formed around her. Mostly just cowardish thugs who hid behind the seemingly insane but undefeatable woman, but Jesse never discouraged them either and enjoyed being admired for a change. It sure was a hell of a lot better than being on the receiving end all the time, she thought. Coincidentally, the area she poached in at the time was Greyville. The resident pack noticed her puppetry with the humans and approached her eventually. In order to minimize the chaos Jesse could cause and driven by the omnipresent decline in birth rate, they negotiated her joining the pack. A crucial condition was that she would dissolve her gang and swear to never join or form one ever again. A condition that didn't exclude the option to wreak havoc on human lowlife every now and then. Coming from a pack that didn't put any value in cohesion and only coexisted for the sense of security a group of wolves offers, Jesse doesn't quite fit into the greyville pack. While she respects the alphas and obeys most omegas, she spends most of her time interacting with the pack in petty fights. Most notably, she got into a scuffle with Fay at some point that didn't end in her favor. The woman even joined the pack right afterwards, as an omega no less, setting the stage for an exemplary hate-love relationship. With a heavy focus on the hate-part.</s> <\|message\|>Ryan Jameson "Special's not up yet," Ryan said to Avery, watching as Anton downed her vile concoction and demanded more. Ryan just shook his head and put the whole bottle on the counter for her. "Southern Fireballs at two-for-five tonight. Russian Reuben sandwiches for six bucks, just as bad as always." Ryan gave Avery a wide berth as she moved across the bar. It was hard enough being a waitress at a place that didn't serve alcohol. Her tips might be a little higher here, but sooner or later someone became a drunk asshole and the nights got interesting. Speaking of assholes, he pulled his phone out as it vibrated in his pocket. Heading to studio. Call tmrw? "Hey Avery, what do you buy someone when you need to say 'Sorry I've been an asshole lately?'" But Ryan didn't stick around to hear the answer to that one. Anton had already plowed through the potato-based jet fuel he'd given her and was making for the ladies room. "Oh fuckberries." Ryan slipped out from behind the bar, following in Anton's wake until she went into the ladies room. And he dared not cross that threshold. "Anton," Ryan yelled, pounding the door. "Anton, I can hear you puking in there! Flush the damn toilet this time, all right?"</s> <\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow In the darkness of the clear sky night, Fayth held the last of a cigarette to her lips. Taking one last, long and smooth drag. The bright orange glow burned away as she tossed it to the ground. Blowing out a puff of smoke that hazed up in front of her face, drifting up into the nothingness above. She crushed the cigarette underneath her foot, grinding it against asphalt. Looking at The Backhouse as it began to fill with the familiar faces of her new pack. Fayth watched them carefully. Even those who were human. In today's world, knowing who to trust and who needed to be watched was a necessity. The only problem with that was one thing: everyone needed to be watched. As the new Omega of the tribe, her hardened gaze needed to be focused as ever. While this pack had survived and kept great numbers in the death rate, it seemed to her that they had grown too relaxed. Ryan had his stubborn, infuriating ways. His human boyfriend was becoming a problem of sorts. No one could know about their secrets otherwise everyone's life was in jeopardy. Most importantly, her own life would be in trouble. Fayth wasn't going to let anyone get in the way of her own survival. Then there was Anton and her foolish habits. Her sorrows and depression. Instead of getting on with her life, Anton had decided to drown herself in the venomous belly of the worst snake of all: alcohol. Not that Fay didn't indulge herself. She'd like to think she had herself under control when it came to drinking. Anton needed a lesson, fast. Every single one of them did. The more Fay thought about it, the more this monthly visit to the bar seemed incredibly stupid. A whole pack of werewolves in one place, conveniently on the night before the full moon. The same people. The same day. Every month. It didn't take rocket science for a hunter to figure out that something was strange about this all. Everyone was so undisciplined. It's a goddamn miracle they're all alive. Fayth sighed as it was time for her to walk into the pub. She worked part time there as a bartender, but on these nights she decided to take the night off. Be on watch for her fellow wolves. And tonight she looked every bit the part she wanted to play. Her dyed blonde hair let loose flowing down her shoulders. A pair of hooped earrings in. Black heels, and a tight black dress that revealed her long smooth legs as she strutted on into the bar. Her heels clacking the entire way as she moved on in. Fay gave a brilliant smile to those who were there. Especially the men. Showing off as she moved on up to a stool at the bar and took her seat. Placing her purse on the counter. The blonde looked around and spotted Avery immediately. "Hey gorgeous! Can you help a girl out over here? I need to get cray tonight. Tipsy! Ya' know? I'll take the usual by the way." The usual being an appletini that would probably get most men laughed at if they ordered it. She claimed to hate the taste of alcohol and just wanted that sweet drink.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir ~Anton~ "Yeah, yeah." Anton muttered, whizzing around and flushing the toilet. So much for "drowning her sorrows". More like drowning sick down a toilet. She was highly regretting puking it up; once a month was far too little time to drink good strong Vodka. She mentally slapped herself for not being able to survive the Vodka, and burst out the bathroom door only to collide with Ryan pounding on the door. "Ryan! You scared the shit out of me! Look, I heard you the first time, ok? Now I need more Vodka. And please don't tell me you only got one bottle AGAIN!" She strode over to a dank table that had not been wiped properly, sat down, and waited expectantly for Ryan to bring her anything.</s> <\|message\|>Yvette Stowe Greyville, a place that Yvette knew was packed full of werewolves. By her research, and the research of others, and established pack was located in this town, however the only problem would be fishing them out and eradicating their very existence off the face of this earth. She let out a small huff as she stared at her laptop screen. A word document filled with her theories had been sitting in front of her for the past hour while she had sat around and thought... Man, thinking was hard. The young hunter leaned back in her chair and let out a frustrated sigh as she sat up and ran her fingers through her hair. "Dimitri might be up to something." Yvette murmured. He was already taking the initiative, in fact he probably might have already done something catastrophic. She shook her head lightly and paced about her apartment room, thinking of things to do before she would actually start heading out into the forests for late night hunting. Ah, well she could grab a drink? It wouldn't hurt to participate in normal activities once and awhile? With that thought in mind, Yvette gathered her hair up into a bun, put on a leather jacket to relieve herself of the cold winds and left her apartment to satisfy her taste for drinking. The young woman slipped into her sleek black Camaro, the trunk already filled with the appropriate weaponry for hunting, and drove off. Yvette took the fast and edgy way to the bar by speeding past signs which would probably end up with her mailbox stuffed full of tickets for disobeying the town's traffic laws. No matter, she could pay it off in due time. ---- The Hunter pulled up near the bar and exited her car, her hands stuffed into her pockets as she slid through the entrance and settled down at the bar counter. Well, since she was alone, maybe she should pester Dimitri? Yvette pulled out her phone and sent him a quick text. Lmao ay, cum 2 duh bar.</s>	<\|message\|>Jesse Williams Where other members of the pack left their respective home or flat, giving their families the good-bye-smooch or some such nonsense, Jesse kicked her door close, leaving nothing behind but a messy, lifeless apartment. Reeking of copulation and the feral smell one would know from animal cages at the zoo. But ultimately, it was devoid of life today. It was rather usual for the fine lady Williams to kick temporary lovers out of her lair without mercy for their bodily well-being nor the accepted noise level of the block, though not today. She left on her own, in what one would call 'good' mood, wearing nothing less than brass knuckles on her right hand like shiny, sparkly jewelry. She passed a few others on the path down the stairway, gracefully ignoring their presence, uncaring wether or not they looked at her with hostility (that would be other wolves) or awe (as did the few human inhabitants of the building). She made her way out on the streets, bouncing rather than walking. It was the night before the night, and though the bar would be crowded with canines, it was a promising night for lovers of a good scuffle. About twenty minutes later, Jesse arrived at the bar. The acute observer would notice a time loss of about ten minutes, walking the distance from her apartment to the establishment, however. A fresh bundle of bank notes in her pocket as well as a few splatters of blood adorning her knuckle dusters and right arm implied the cause of her delay. Being without a steady income, the woman had to 'make' some money every now and then, and the unlucky victim of tonight was a semi-professional dealer trying to make some quick cash on her route to the pub. What the poor guy forgot to consider when picking a police-free neighbourhood was the better-than-average sense of smell a handful of people around here had, something that came incredibly handy when looking for a quick 'money dispenser'. After a quick 'chat' with the gentleman that thoroughly convinced him to avoid this area of Greyville in the future, Jesse arrived at the bar, quickly letting her blood-covered weapon disappear in the pockets of her sleeveless hoodie. She cared enough to superficially wipe the clearly visible blood on her arm away, leaving some less noticeable but still hardly secreted smears. Upon entering with an utterly amused expression - the evening started fairly entertaining after all - she sought a place at the counter, avoiding the general 'pack corner'. For her it was more fun to converse with the clueless human customers anyway, and that lessened the chances for a brawl with the other wolves too. Not that she was eager to avoid such a thing, but pretending to always looked better in the eyes of the alphas. Her choice of a seat was strategically closer to Avery than to Ryan. Unsurprisingly, she addressed the human when issuing her first order of the night. "Hey sweety, how about you pour me some vodka? Make it the good 'ol cheap stuff, alright?" Jesse wasn't the kind to ask for expensive stuff. Heck, she hardly ever had enough money on her to pay the tab after a night of drinking cheap shit. Living at the low end of low makes you numb enough to not care, though.</s>
<\|description\|>Jesse Williams Age: 24 Appearance: Human, werewolf or hunter?: Beta Werewolf Background: Jesse was born as a werewolf and raised as a werewolf, with all the hardships of being the youngest cub in the pack. She was the last 'naturally' born member of her old pack and thus lived a life at the low end of the pecking order for more than twenty years. This majorly contributed to her bully-esque character and the rebellious demeanor that comes with it. Jesse's old pack was essentially the werewolf equivalent to human gypsies. They wandered between cities frequently, always claiming a set 'turf' for a while before moving on to the next city or town. They were loud and aggressive and drawing general attention required them to change locations before people asked too many questions. As one would expect, an almost permanently drunk crowd of rowdy werewolves didn't interact in the smoothest ways with other packs, so fights with other covenants were not unheard of. After building a bad reputation among their kin for some years, warm welcomes from other packs were somewhat rare. The pack eventually dissolved when their alphas fell to rebelling omegas, and said omegas succumbed to their injuries afterwards. With nobody to lead the pack, they fell apart in less than a month and scattered in all directions. During her time at the wandering pack, Jesse always was the weakest link. She was never physically weak, on the contrary - being bullied by a pack of aggressive and highly violent werewolves put her in a fairly well-conditioned state. However, she lacked a certain finesse, the dexterity to use her power for anything more than a pair of bone-breaking fists. Her defense against her fellows lacked unpredictability or skill, she never made it past being a brutal thug and this pack lacked all forms of benevolence, so nobody trained her. In the past, new werewolves were born into the pack who would take over the position of the general 'victim', but the digress of werewolf birth damned Jesse to a life at the bottom of the food chain. As a result of twenty years worth of punishment for being the youngest cub, she turned into a fairly violent, erratic slugger herself. Being superior to humans only, she let off all the steam from being subdued on human street gangs and thugs. She always tries to act reasonably 'human' around them - masking her unnaturally strong punches by using baseball bats for example, broken bones from a bat swing are a lot less unusual than from a casual backhand after all. Mostly taking it out on gangs also let her avoid unnecessary attention, police forces never really care when the victims of a brawl have comprehensive criminal records. Despite all the precaution, she has a few murder-stains on her slate, none of which can be connected to her directly though. Another feature she gained during her time at the wandering pack is the affection for her 'turf'. To this day, she considers the area she lives in as her property and takes the right to represent the law. In other words, to beat shady characters into a bloody pulp at will. This and her general fixation on human interaction (playing 'gang wars' with the lesser creatures and such) is usually met with disapproval from other wolves. It also gets her in trouble frequently as it draws attention of less benevolent wolf packs or hunters. Beyond her highly ranked position in human gang interactions, she's still a lowlife in werewolf society. Jesse is a coward that doesn't hesitate to switch to the winning side in times of conflict. She's the kind of person who instigates mutiny, stays out of the actual fight and then gangs up on the already defeated party. Though she has little more to offer than brute force in a combat scenario, she's by no means stupid and constantly tries to manipulate people around her for her own advantage. After the downfall of the wandering pack, Jesse lived alone and on the streets for a while. She didn't really encourage the humans to, but a gang formed around her. Mostly just cowardish thugs who hid behind the seemingly insane but undefeatable woman, but Jesse never discouraged them either and enjoyed being admired for a change. It sure was a hell of a lot better than being on the receiving end all the time, she thought. Coincidentally, the area she poached in at the time was Greyville. The resident pack noticed her puppetry with the humans and approached her eventually. In order to minimize the chaos Jesse could cause and driven by the omnipresent decline in birth rate, they negotiated her joining the pack. A crucial condition was that she would dissolve her gang and swear to never join or form one ever again. A condition that didn't exclude the option to wreak havoc on human lowlife every now and then. Coming from a pack that didn't put any value in cohesion and only coexisted for the sense of security a group of wolves offers, Jesse doesn't quite fit into the greyville pack. While she respects the alphas and obeys most omegas, she spends most of her time interacting with the pack in petty fights. Most notably, she got into a scuffle with Fay at some point that didn't end in her favor. The woman even joined the pack right afterwards, as an omega no less, setting the stage for an exemplary hate-love relationship. With a heavy focus on the hate-part.</s> <\|message\|>James Matherson Stephen Whelan Stephen continued to sit in the dark corner, watching as people came in. A waitress with dark hair came over, and asked if he wanted anything. "No, thank you," he replied. He knew that Michael, a werewolf who worked at The Backhouse, would pour him his regular, a PBR. He continued to sit, breathing the air in, as people go up. After a while, a woman came in, and then a few minutes later a man came in, dark and tall. He focused in on him, and he could hear him speaking, with a Russian accent. Stephen decided that he would continue to listen in. --- James Matherson James was in home, in his small house in Greyville. He knew that there was a pack here, he just wasn't sure who was a werewolf. He was in his basement, preparing for the full moon tomorrow night. He had to be ready to kill on sight. Perhaps I could prepare with some others, he thought, and sent out a text to all of the hunters in Greyville: Hey, it's a full moon tomorrow, anyone wanna do some planning? -James</s> <\|message\|>Yvette Stowe "The women want to get all in your pants, Dimitri." Yvette had a sly smirk as she sipped her beer, sparing the woman who catcalled him a glance. She shrugged her shoulders, and soon her gaze drifted and settled onto the bleeding figure. "How casual... Wait..." She whispered. The young woman's eyes narrowed as she had realized who that bleeding man was. She nudged Dimitri and pointed over at the lad, her voicing growing to a low whisper. "It's Thomas..." Yvette didn't know why he thought that it'd be okay to nonchalantly show up at a bar to drink... But whatever he decided, it was kind of stupid. "Mkayy... Well, I'm just gonna..." She slipped out of her stool to approach Thomas. "Welp, time to see him out."</s> <\|message\|>Nanix Erka Nanix Nanix frowned a bit. He was in a mood, huh? She put on a brave face, hoping not to look disappointed "Alright then" She turned away, going to serve anyone else who was at the bar</s> <\|message\|>Dimitri Kozlov Dimitri stared down at the cooled water, his lips pulling into a small smirk of it's own at the 'Hey boy' from the girl across the bar. However, despite this, his mind was running a mile a second, the man easily returning his gaze to the drink down in front of him. Something didn't sit right with him... Thomas must have had an accident, that much was evident, but he had only heard rumors of the wild pack miles away from Greyville, back in the mountains that he had just eradicated...so whom, and what, had the other man been hunting? A random wanderer that had gotten too feisty during the full moon light? An old werewolf that wanted one more bout before he keeled over and died? No...Thomas was too skilled for that; he wouldn't get injured by an old, waning beast. Not to mention that not a lot of people seemed surprise at the blood. Gripping the cold cup with one calloused, gloved hand, Dimitri took a long sip, leaning back at the bar and stretching his arms above his head. His leather jacket was made from a pilfered Kevlar alloy, capable enough to stop a wolf's razor-sharp fangs and claws with minimal injury...not to mention he had an old family friend that tailored his clothing and weapons, for only a small amount of funding, which was easy with the wealth his father had managed to accumulate over time. Right now, however, the jacket was making the already warm room a bit hot, so Dimitri took it off, rolling it up and resting it on the counter beside his drink. This showed the tears in his long-sleeved shirt, and a few splatters of wolf blood, but the blood had long since dried, and the scent was practically non-existant. Just to be safe, he rolled the sleeves up his forearms, revealing long, jagged scars along the skin. Dimitri threw his jacket over his shoulder, and finally decided to stand. Walking over to Thomas and Yvette, the Russian Hunter smirked slightly larger, clasping Thomas on the shoulder that held the injured arm. "Ты полный отстой." He commented, his voice's accent becoming a Hell of a lot thicker due to him using his mother tongue. Dimitri sat down beside him, slapping Thomas lightly on the cheek to make him alert. "Go to the hospital." His voice was blunt and direct.</s>	<\|message\|>Jesse Williams Everything went as expected. People poured into the bar, both familiar faces and curiously unknown ones. Anton was at full speed too. Already. While it certainly took some strong juice to get her going, it never took long. While picking up the glass of cheap booze - "Thanks a bunch, cutie!" - Jesse decided to keep an eye on her situation. Always payed off to stick to the drunks, always came with lots of opportunities. "Picking on people you think are weaker than you, again?" While she didn't exactly sweep the room, her sense of smell and hearing got her a pretty good idea about who of the pack participated in the lil' monthly get-together, but somehow she still had missed picking up on Fayth. Odd, she thought, before the full extend of the blondes little 'poking fun/insult' hit her. Causing her to grind her teeth for a brief moment, before she put up the most sickeningly sweet and obviously fake smile. "Somebody's gotta pay the tab, right?" Her retort was anything if not odd. Confusing for anyone who didn't know her, no doubt. Jesse loved to poke fun at how uncomplicated it was to simply beat some poor sod into the pavement and take their cash, when the other pack members tried to live a genuine, honest life with a secure income like normal people do. To the average person she'd just seem like a careless thug thriving in the utter absence of the public law in Greyville, but to the pack she was a special kind of pest. One that didn't bother to fit into human society and shamelessly abused her unfair advantages to her personal gain. It was a thorn in everyone's side, specifically for those who masked their true nature and worked hard for their paycheck. She never bothered to hide her mugging deeds either, and often enough described them with a certain pride, just to rub it in and annoy the others even more. For Jesse, there was nothing negative about picking on weaklings. Survival of the fittest in its up-to-date form, as she liked to argument. Despite the carefree and self-ironical answer, it gnawed on her. The whole woman gnawed on her. She had planned to get back on Fay for a while now, for the beating she received. All it took was an (un)lucky encounter at night...preferably with two other betas, if not three. She had just to work out who'd qualify for the job and how to rile them up against the omega. Not an easy feat for someone who is generally making enemies left and right. Looking after Fay for just a second, Jess noticed Mori after completely missing her arrival as well. She made a mental note to pick a place that didn't put her back towards the door next time and gave her a respectful nod during a brief moment of eye-contact. When the bleeding guy entered the bar, she barely reacted. The intense smell of large quantities of blood didn't leave her completely unphased, but she managed to behave and not show it. Letting off steam earlier helped a great deal, too. Contrary to the general awe the bleeding man seemed to inspire, she payed him an impressed whistle. From one blood-splattered person to another. The night was still young and full of opportunity, and Jess was not nearly lit enough to pick a fight with someone her own size yet, so she decided to sit tight, sip cheap vodka and eavesdrop on Fay and Mori for the time being.</s>
<\|description\|>Jesse Williams Age: 24 Appearance: Human, werewolf or hunter?: Beta Werewolf Background: Jesse was born as a werewolf and raised as a werewolf, with all the hardships of being the youngest cub in the pack. She was the last 'naturally' born member of her old pack and thus lived a life at the low end of the pecking order for more than twenty years. This majorly contributed to her bully-esque character and the rebellious demeanor that comes with it. Jesse's old pack was essentially the werewolf equivalent to human gypsies. They wandered between cities frequently, always claiming a set 'turf' for a while before moving on to the next city or town. They were loud and aggressive and drawing general attention required them to change locations before people asked too many questions. As one would expect, an almost permanently drunk crowd of rowdy werewolves didn't interact in the smoothest ways with other packs, so fights with other covenants were not unheard of. After building a bad reputation among their kin for some years, warm welcomes from other packs were somewhat rare. The pack eventually dissolved when their alphas fell to rebelling omegas, and said omegas succumbed to their injuries afterwards. With nobody to lead the pack, they fell apart in less than a month and scattered in all directions. During her time at the wandering pack, Jesse always was the weakest link. She was never physically weak, on the contrary - being bullied by a pack of aggressive and highly violent werewolves put her in a fairly well-conditioned state. However, she lacked a certain finesse, the dexterity to use her power for anything more than a pair of bone-breaking fists. Her defense against her fellows lacked unpredictability or skill, she never made it past being a brutal thug and this pack lacked all forms of benevolence, so nobody trained her. In the past, new werewolves were born into the pack who would take over the position of the general 'victim', but the digress of werewolf birth damned Jesse to a life at the bottom of the food chain. As a result of twenty years worth of punishment for being the youngest cub, she turned into a fairly violent, erratic slugger herself. Being superior to humans only, she let off all the steam from being subdued on human street gangs and thugs. She always tries to act reasonably 'human' around them - masking her unnaturally strong punches by using baseball bats for example, broken bones from a bat swing are a lot less unusual than from a casual backhand after all. Mostly taking it out on gangs also let her avoid unnecessary attention, police forces never really care when the victims of a brawl have comprehensive criminal records. Despite all the precaution, she has a few murder-stains on her slate, none of which can be connected to her directly though. Another feature she gained during her time at the wandering pack is the affection for her 'turf'. To this day, she considers the area she lives in as her property and takes the right to represent the law. In other words, to beat shady characters into a bloody pulp at will. This and her general fixation on human interaction (playing 'gang wars' with the lesser creatures and such) is usually met with disapproval from other wolves. It also gets her in trouble frequently as it draws attention of less benevolent wolf packs or hunters. Beyond her highly ranked position in human gang interactions, she's still a lowlife in werewolf society. Jesse is a coward that doesn't hesitate to switch to the winning side in times of conflict. She's the kind of person who instigates mutiny, stays out of the actual fight and then gangs up on the already defeated party. Though she has little more to offer than brute force in a combat scenario, she's by no means stupid and constantly tries to manipulate people around her for her own advantage. After the downfall of the wandering pack, Jesse lived alone and on the streets for a while. She didn't really encourage the humans to, but a gang formed around her. Mostly just cowardish thugs who hid behind the seemingly insane but undefeatable woman, but Jesse never discouraged them either and enjoyed being admired for a change. It sure was a hell of a lot better than being on the receiving end all the time, she thought. Coincidentally, the area she poached in at the time was Greyville. The resident pack noticed her puppetry with the humans and approached her eventually. In order to minimize the chaos Jesse could cause and driven by the omnipresent decline in birth rate, they negotiated her joining the pack. A crucial condition was that she would dissolve her gang and swear to never join or form one ever again. A condition that didn't exclude the option to wreak havoc on human lowlife every now and then. Coming from a pack that didn't put any value in cohesion and only coexisted for the sense of security a group of wolves offers, Jesse doesn't quite fit into the greyville pack. While she respects the alphas and obeys most omegas, she spends most of her time interacting with the pack in petty fights. Most notably, she got into a scuffle with Fay at some point that didn't end in her favor. The woman even joined the pack right afterwards, as an omega no less, setting the stage for an exemplary hate-love relationship. With a heavy focus on the hate-part.</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer Catching Fay's command as she, too, left out the door, Kalib felt only a smidge better knowing another omega was here in case he messed up. He pulled out his phone and dialed emergency services, telling them the situation, and getting back to what he was doing. "If that guy really does need help, at least someone's coming." He thought, a little less dismal this time. Shoving the negative thoughts from his head, he bucked up and resolved to focus on his job. Turning in his seat, he looked about the scene with alertness. If anything else were to go wrong, he'd make sure he'd catch it (and that he didn't do it himself). It seemed that the usual suspects were at the bar that night. The alphas, a few betas, a bunch of townsfolk looking to have a good night. Even though he was at the bar, he wasn't expecting to get too drunk that night. It wouldn't be new if a few hunters would try to scope out targets a few days before the full moon and Kalib wasn't going to let anyone hurt their pack. Not on his watch.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir @Trinais ~Anton~ Anton watched Ryan walk away with hungry eyes and made herself comfy on her chair. She should really come here regularly - force Ryan into working weeks, perhaps? Anton didn't really know how she felt about Ryan. His eyes are so dreamy... She was awoken by a rapid voice in her ear. "You are done drinking." "Fuck off Carlson. I can drink as much as I intend to. Which, like all of the rest of my private life, is none of your business." Anton watched Thomas being tended to by, literally, everyone. She took this as an opportunity to get away from Carlson, and lifting herself over the bar, went into the cooler room where she found Ryan. "Hey, Ryan? I've waited long enough, where do you store my Vodka?" She began rooting through cupboards without waiting for an answer. 'Fuckin' Ryan,' she thought.</s> <\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Mori Did it only seem or was the bar really unusually loud that night? Sure, it was a rush hour, like every other month before the full moon. A pack of wolves ordering drinks, and causing minor troubles that come with that, then some other human locals, who were also more or less regular costumers in the bar. In all that crazy bunch, Mori noticed three fairy new visitors, who on a first glance seem to know each other. And yet they did not make an entrance together. That guy, who soon became the center of all the attention, bursting in the bar covered in blood, and then Mr. Muscles, as Fay called him, drinking water, while everyone around him was indulging in the mind numbing liquid. He sure seemed like a dream date for Mori, but judging from herself, she knew that you should never trust a man who does not drink alcohol, because they are probably up to something. She lost herself in thought with scanning the mysterious threesome, and completely overhead Fay's words about her not being fun due to drinking juice. When she finally got her drink, she realized all the fun had already moved outside, with the three strangers gone, and of course Fay, who seemed to take control of the situation pretty well. Strangely enough, that didn't bother Mori at all, what bothered her was the fact that Carlson was giving all the attention to Anton, who did what she knew best – victimize herself with overdrinking, and then getting all the attention for it. ''Carlson!'' she called for her partner, who didn't seem to hear her the first time. ''God dammit, Carlson!'' she called for him again, and then walked herself right next to him, right at the moment Antony managed to get away from his norturing grip. ''Something's up,'' she said through her teeth, looking at Carlson to see if he was monitoring his surroundings at all. ''Something is not right here. I can feel it.''</s> <\|message\|>Yvette Stowe "I would prefer it if you move away..." Yvette murmured. She dug through the medical kit, working quickly to at least clot the wound so that the flow of blood would cease. "The wound isn't too harsh, however it is rather deep, but not deep enough to scratch the surface of the bone. It isn't as dire as you think, it was earlier because he did nothing but sit and drink nonchalantly as if nothing had ever happened, and during that timeframe he lost quite a bit of blood." Well, time to put her uncle's teachings into use. She rubbed her hands on her pants, slipped on the gloves the kit had given her and began to pour hydrogen peroxide onto a sterilized piece of cloth. Antibiotics were important yet surprisingly missing from the medical kit, however that could be settled at the emergency room of the hospital, for now Yvette would have to settle with simply cleaning the wound, then dressing it with a decent layer of gauze and a compression bandage from another piece of cloth. "I can drive to the hospital faster than an ambulance can arrive, so don't waste your time with calling it." Yvette closed the lit, placed it into the hands of Dimitri, then wrapped Thomas' un-injured arm over her shoulders so that she was able to slide him into the back seat of her Camaro. "I appreciate the help though." She headed over to the drivers seat and rolled down the window. "Dimitri, meet us at the hospital, afterwards we'll talk." Yvette gave him a small nod, then drove off. "This would have been a lot easier if someone had decided to go get treated instead of drink... What a pain in my ass. I'm no den mother." She grunted and slammed her fist onto her car horn, honking it violently as she whizzed past cars to make it to the hospital in a short amount of time.</s> <\|message\|>Stíofán ó Faoláin (English: Stephen Whelan) Stíofán ó Faoláin (Stephen Whelan) Stephen wondered how the Russian man had a connection with the heavily bleeding man, but continued to listen. After a minute or so of talking, the bleeding man left the bar, and a few people followed, including the Russian man and his female friend. Stephen assumed that they were leaving, and didn't follow. However, after a couple of minutes it appeared as though there was a problem outside the bar. He wanted to know what was happening, so he stood up, and went outside. He was about to offer help, when the woman was taking the bleeding man into her car. Stephen spoke to the Russian man, who was a bit shorter than himself, but more muscular, "I was about to ask if you wanted any help," he told him, not bothering to dull down his Irish accent, "But it looks like you don't need it. What happened?" he asked.</s>	<\|message\|>Jesse Williams Having eyes on Antons situation rather than the general circus evolving around Thomas, Jess was decently surprised when Kalib entered the bar, squealing for someone to call 911 like a little girl. Confused even. While she didn't say it out loud, the words "Why the hell is everyone head over heals to help some nondescript asshat? What's with the sudden compassion for that human?" formed in her head. When she showed up at the bar showered in blood, people usually shouted at her instead. "Calm your tits, girl." The comment was quite openly directed at Kalib, and rather descriptive for the usual tone between the two of them. The guy always seemed to care just a little too much, to overthink things. Way too insecure for Jesses taste. Certainly not the kind of dog one could talk into assaulting a fellow pack member, and thus automatically uninteresting to the girl. As she emptied her glass and observed Anton following after Ryan - breaking free from Carlson's custody, nicely done! - from the corner of her eyes, Jess was grabbed by Fay. A gesture she despised with a passion. Though being a highly physical person in every sense of the word, someone who loved intimate and rough contact, she preferred to do so on her terms. Being groped unexpectedly like that made the fake smile on her face fade away faster than Antons soberness. She turned to return a cold gaze that seemed to spell "Get your damn hand off me.". "We can pick up the tab in much better ways. Safer ways. Like, I could give you such great pointers, girlie!" She usually managed to keep her cool around Fay and wasn't that drunk yet either, but couldn't help hissing a snarky answer to that after the woman. Words violently manifested on her tongue and fought their way to freedom, carried by her slightly vodka-flavored breath. Definitely loud enough for her to still perceive it, and probably half of the folks hanging out around the counter, too. "I'm sure you're the expert on how to turn your body into profit. Thanks for the offer, but some of us actually have some self-respect." Averting her eyes from Fay, she kept watch over the doorframe Anton disappeared in. Still looking for an easy opening. A totally wasted girl acting like an asshole, in some semi-secret back room? Definitely a magnet for trouble. And if trouble ensued, she planned to be part of it.</s>
<\|description\|>Jesse Williams Age: 24 Appearance: Human, werewolf or hunter?: Beta Werewolf Background: Jesse was born as a werewolf and raised as a werewolf, with all the hardships of being the youngest cub in the pack. She was the last 'naturally' born member of her old pack and thus lived a life at the low end of the pecking order for more than twenty years. This majorly contributed to her bully-esque character and the rebellious demeanor that comes with it. Jesse's old pack was essentially the werewolf equivalent to human gypsies. They wandered between cities frequently, always claiming a set 'turf' for a while before moving on to the next city or town. They were loud and aggressive and drawing general attention required them to change locations before people asked too many questions. As one would expect, an almost permanently drunk crowd of rowdy werewolves didn't interact in the smoothest ways with other packs, so fights with other covenants were not unheard of. After building a bad reputation among their kin for some years, warm welcomes from other packs were somewhat rare. The pack eventually dissolved when their alphas fell to rebelling omegas, and said omegas succumbed to their injuries afterwards. With nobody to lead the pack, they fell apart in less than a month and scattered in all directions. During her time at the wandering pack, Jesse always was the weakest link. She was never physically weak, on the contrary - being bullied by a pack of aggressive and highly violent werewolves put her in a fairly well-conditioned state. However, she lacked a certain finesse, the dexterity to use her power for anything more than a pair of bone-breaking fists. Her defense against her fellows lacked unpredictability or skill, she never made it past being a brutal thug and this pack lacked all forms of benevolence, so nobody trained her. In the past, new werewolves were born into the pack who would take over the position of the general 'victim', but the digress of werewolf birth damned Jesse to a life at the bottom of the food chain. As a result of twenty years worth of punishment for being the youngest cub, she turned into a fairly violent, erratic slugger herself. Being superior to humans only, she let off all the steam from being subdued on human street gangs and thugs. She always tries to act reasonably 'human' around them - masking her unnaturally strong punches by using baseball bats for example, broken bones from a bat swing are a lot less unusual than from a casual backhand after all. Mostly taking it out on gangs also let her avoid unnecessary attention, police forces never really care when the victims of a brawl have comprehensive criminal records. Despite all the precaution, she has a few murder-stains on her slate, none of which can be connected to her directly though. Another feature she gained during her time at the wandering pack is the affection for her 'turf'. To this day, she considers the area she lives in as her property and takes the right to represent the law. In other words, to beat shady characters into a bloody pulp at will. This and her general fixation on human interaction (playing 'gang wars' with the lesser creatures and such) is usually met with disapproval from other wolves. It also gets her in trouble frequently as it draws attention of less benevolent wolf packs or hunters. Beyond her highly ranked position in human gang interactions, she's still a lowlife in werewolf society. Jesse is a coward that doesn't hesitate to switch to the winning side in times of conflict. She's the kind of person who instigates mutiny, stays out of the actual fight and then gangs up on the already defeated party. Though she has little more to offer than brute force in a combat scenario, she's by no means stupid and constantly tries to manipulate people around her for her own advantage. After the downfall of the wandering pack, Jesse lived alone and on the streets for a while. She didn't really encourage the humans to, but a gang formed around her. Mostly just cowardish thugs who hid behind the seemingly insane but undefeatable woman, but Jesse never discouraged them either and enjoyed being admired for a change. It sure was a hell of a lot better than being on the receiving end all the time, she thought. Coincidentally, the area she poached in at the time was Greyville. The resident pack noticed her puppetry with the humans and approached her eventually. In order to minimize the chaos Jesse could cause and driven by the omnipresent decline in birth rate, they negotiated her joining the pack. A crucial condition was that she would dissolve her gang and swear to never join or form one ever again. A condition that didn't exclude the option to wreak havoc on human lowlife every now and then. Coming from a pack that didn't put any value in cohesion and only coexisted for the sense of security a group of wolves offers, Jesse doesn't quite fit into the greyville pack. While she respects the alphas and obeys most omegas, she spends most of her time interacting with the pack in petty fights. Most notably, she got into a scuffle with Fay at some point that didn't end in her favor. The woman even joined the pack right afterwards, as an omega no less, setting the stage for an exemplary hate-love relationship. With a heavy focus on the hate-part.</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer He nodded in response to Mori's order "Right-o, boss." and left his seat to get the other omegas. Stopping himself mid-stride, he swiftly took the rum and cola with him. "No use wasting a good drink." It only took a few minutes to alert the other omegas that they were needed. As he left his empty glass on the counter (with a nice tip for the bartender, as he assumed they would be leaving soon), he noticed Fay behind the counter. "So there you are!" Relieved to see her back, he walked over to her. He lowered his voice a little. "The bosses need us, I think we're heading out now." His eyes caught a glimpse at the empty glasses in front of them, a little concerned but trying to not pay mind. "You okay there, Fay?"</s> <\|message\|>Jesse Williams Still attending her ever-watchful watch over her surroundings in general, Jess was about to get up and see what's what with Anton and Ryan, back there. They had a lot of private time. Seeing how lit Anton was when she disappeared and knowing how aggressive she got in that state, Jesse doubted they'd be making out in private, so it was probably worth investigating. But alas, something new happened right as she emptied her second glass of booze. Something exciting and amusing, too! Fay re-entered the bar, looking refreshingly furious. A nice change from the act she put up most of the time. Given it was a rather flawless act, leaving most people to believe she actually was some irrelevant blonde chick with half a brain at most. But you only needed to see her drop that act once to know it's a mask, the ferocity held back behind giggly, bouncy goldilocks was much more real. Being a rather 'natural' girl in that regards, Jesse couldn't help to smirk. Though she was a rival first and foremost, the enemy if there ever was one, she liked the fierce side of Fay. She was much easier to infuriate too. "What's up, hun? Got turned down?" Of course, Jess was oblivious to the presence of the hunters, didn't know what went down outside and had no idea the pack was about to pack up and leave. But even if she was in the picture, she'd very likely still poke fun at Fay. Upon overhearing Kalibs news, she furrowed her brow, shooting angry looks at him. "Whyssat? They playin' fun-police again? Somebody gimme another vodka, then!" The last part of that was directed at the blonde, since she conveniently had her ass placed behind the counter anyway.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir ~Anton~ Anton was rooting through the cooler cupboard and a drink had almost touched her lips when she heard Carlson's shout. She drank it anyway, discarding the bottle with a smash on the floor. Removing herself from the cooler room - shivering with the temperature change - Anton walked up to Carlson, her face red. "How come Fay ish aloud to drink and I'm not?! And Jess ish! 'Dis ish so unfair!" she nodded at Fay and Jess "I'm shure I can handled it better than them!" she spat with a slight slur. Anton picked up some of the popcorn nibbles on a nearby table and began shovelling salty popcorn into her mouth.</s> <\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Mori Mori clutched her teeth together to prevent herself from taking some heavy swings at Fay. She was being disrespectful, and Mori was getting more and more fed up with it. But it wasn't only her nasty behaviour toward her alpha female, that was a problem, it was also the goddamned secrecy that went along it. Fay knew something, and wasn't willing to share, which was quite typical of her, only looking after her selfish interests. Mori was sure of that, because of the way Fay looked at her. She didn't took Mori's warning coded in the form of her full first name. She didn't even twitch. Which could mean only that Fay already knew what was going on. Or worse, she knew even more, but ws keeping it to herself. It took all her strenght letting Fay strode away from her just like that, as she was smart enough not to start a werewolf fight in front of a guy, who might aswell be one of the hunters. Then she had do decide rather quickly, what her next move should be. Should she go after disobedient bitch of a Fay, and make an example of what happenes to those, who get on Mori's bad side, in front of a whole bar, or should she play along with the flirtatious one, and try to find out if he's a hunter aswell.She decided to do the latter, as she trusted Kaleb, the good Omega, to take care of things inside the bar. Besides, Carlson was there, too. She then closed her eyes for a second, the calm herself, and then bite her lower lip as in answer to the guy's interest. ''Oh, it's nothing. That was my sister. She is a bit...crazy right now. You see, she just found out her boyfriend was cheating on her with her best friend, and... you know,'' she said with a pleasant voice, and continued to scan this man's body. It appeared she was observing his muscular torso, when in fact she tried to spot any kind of weapon he might be wearing. ''You up for a drink?'' She then asked him with a teasing grin over her face.</s> <\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow Carlson screaming at Anton. Anton yelling at Carlson. Fay knew Mori had something to say but didn't say it. She respected the female alpha for having some self control. Fayth nearly laughed at her own thoughts. Not that she wasn't a hypocrite to her core when it came to self control. Though, Fay at least kept her private issues private unlike others who needed to be a drunk slobbering mess all over the goddamn bar. Noise, so much noise! Fay couldn't shut it out. And of course, Jess just couldn't keep her smug mouth shut. For a sub-par fighter, Jess certainly had a lot to say. The whisky soon began its work. Coursing through her veins like a drug. A venomous snake slithering its way over every part of her body. Coiling itself over her and sinking its fangs deep into her being. The seductive venom gave her body a tingle. Quieting the rush and the bloodlust bubbling up inside of her. Near boiling with rage, settling down as the rumble of noise all around her was suddenly quiet. Fay looked up from the counter at Kalib. That lethal state planted on her face. "Kalib. I know you're new at this job. Just don't ask me stupid questions. I'm completely fine." She was unnecessarily harsh with him. But, Fayth figured certain members of this pack needed discipline. Most of them looked as though they'd gone far too long without it. An iron fist from an omega might do the trick. "Now, I need you to do me a favor. I suggest you take Anton here and escort her back home." Fay's gaze turned over to Anton. "Unless miss I need all the eyes on me who can't handle her liquor because she's a pathetic, weak little girl wants her face introduced to this counter top." Fay grabbed a white towel and wiped at the spot she bit her own hand. The white fabric being stained with blood. Now Jesse had the omega's attention. She smiled as she brought up a shot glass and grabbed the weakest vodka she could find stored in the entire bar. Pouring only half a shot. "That should be enough for you. You can't take much abuse. I've seen it."</s>	<\|message\|>Jesse Williams The sight of Anton and Carlson having a shout-level conversation was not the least bit surprising to Jess. It was a bit unfortunate still, as the alpha was one out of the two people in the pack she wasn't eager to have a physical confrontation with - she still maintained the required respect for their two leaders, most of the time. Getting them all angry and upset about herself was not a smart move, specifically so since Mori and Fay had so much advantageous tension going on between one another. "That should be enough for you. You can't take much abuse. I've seen it." Fay's voice finished Jess' train of thought and made her glare daggers at the blonde after a moment of surprise. She sure didn't see that blow coming her way. "What the fuck are you on about? Who gave you the right to meter paying customers intake, miss appletini?" Jesse didn't remember a single incident that the blondes statement could be referring to - being blessed with selective memory no doubt. She was half-aware that Fay probably just tried to push her buttons, but there was a certain sense of pride swelling up. Being called out like that in a public bar was a low blow. Jess worked hard for her reputation and didn't accept the omega tearing it down because she was butthurt over a rejection from some russian thug. She pushed the half-empty glass away from her, back to the person with the bottle in her bloody - for some reason - hands. Jess half rose from her chair, caught between getting proper upset with Fay and moving over to help Anton start a war. Both options had their advantages, both had a catch. While she knew arguing with the omega was no good and that she should by no means get provoked into throwing the first actual punch, she still lingered at the bar for a moment longer. In an unexpected and no doubt liquor-fueled turn of events, she put a hand on Kalibs shoulder. "I think you're right, Cal. She doesn't seem quite alright to me. Maybe someone should take that bottle o' Whisky from her."</s>
<\|description\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Age: 29 Appearance: Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega? Alpha Background: Morgana had always been an odd child. Unlike the other girls, she didn't care about the dolls and pretty dresses. She enjoyed spending her time with boys in the nearby forest. Hunting, fighting, building things...that was her definition of fun. Her father was an alcoholic, and he often took a swing at her and her mother. Morgana hated them both, equally. Father for his violence, and mother for her cowardness. She promised herself that one day she would put an end to all of this. Hanging out with the boys eventually made her stronger, and fearless to a fault, but nothing could equip her for vengeance better than what happened to her on one August's full moon night. She made a bet with the boys that she dares to walk across the forest alone, using only moonlight to light the way. She never thought she would be in danger out there. After all, the woods have been her second home. The place of joy, laughter, and freedom. She knew all the creatures that lived there, from a giant stag to a grumpy boar. But she had no idea that the forest had welcomed a new visitor. It all happened in a second. The sound of growling, ripping, screaming… And then nothing but silent darkness. She never learnt who was the werewolf that turned her that night. He left her alone in the woods, where she was later found by the local hunters, who took her to the hospital. She was badly wounded, but odly enough, her wounds had healed pretty fast. In just a few days time, she was back home with her parents, but the reunion wasn't quite like she anticipated. Her father hit her in the face, bloodying her nose, for she was misbehaving and needed to be punished. However, It was the last thing he did. Morgana's eyes flared up like fire, and then she throw herself at the old man and began to hit him again and again and again, until the voice of her mother's screaming brought her back to her senses. Upon seeing what she had done, she fled the house, and never returned. For almost a decade, she roamed the country looking for answers. She met a few packs, and even joined some for a while, but after witnessing too many werewolves being slaughtered by a hunter due to a bad leadership, she decided to create a family of her own. Starting with Ryan, the member of one of those failed packs, called the the Topeka pack. She practically snatched him away from Jared, the pack's alpha', after thoroughly showing them how she felt about their ways. So she had one wolf following around, but she knew that, finding and collecting the lost puppies wouldn't be as easy as joining the already established pack (even though the kind of pack she'd feel confortable in wasn't easy to find). So, after moving to California, she soon found the trail on the newest pack that was in need of another female alpha. The previous one had been killed off by a hunter, and the pack was left chaotic after that. Since the past had shaped her into being a natural leader, with a strong sense for community, she soon claimed her place. With her parents both dead (her mother killed herself after witnessing Morgana's outrage) and having no other siblings, she would do anything to protect her current pack. They are her only family. Her strength and her weakness. As a leader she can be as motherly as she can be cold and brutal. She is respected for her fairness, cunningness, and fearlessness. She would stand no tratiors, and would advice anyone, who wanted to take her place, to think about it twice. For their own sake.</s> <\|message\|>Jesse Williams Where other members of the pack left their respective home or flat, giving their families the good-bye-smooch or some such nonsense, Jesse kicked her door close, leaving nothing behind but a messy, lifeless apartment. Reeking of copulation and the feral smell one would know from animal cages at the zoo. But ultimately, it was devoid of life today. It was rather usual for the fine lady Williams to kick temporary lovers out of her lair without mercy for their bodily well-being nor the accepted noise level of the block, though not today. She left on her own, in what one would call 'good' mood, wearing nothing less than brass knuckles on her right hand like shiny, sparkly jewelry. She passed a few others on the path down the stairway, gracefully ignoring their presence, uncaring wether or not they looked at her with hostility (that would be other wolves) or awe (as did the few human inhabitants of the building). She made her way out on the streets, bouncing rather than walking. It was the night before the night, and though the bar would be crowded with canines, it was a promising night for lovers of a good scuffle. About twenty minutes later, Jesse arrived at the bar. The acute observer would notice a time loss of about ten minutes, walking the distance from her apartment to the establishment, however. A fresh bundle of bank notes in her pocket as well as a few splatters of blood adorning her knuckle dusters and right arm implied the cause of her delay. Being without a steady income, the woman had to 'make' some money every now and then, and the unlucky victim of tonight was a semi-professional dealer trying to make some quick cash on her route to the pub. What the poor guy forgot to consider when picking a police-free neighbourhood was the better-than-average sense of smell a handful of people around here had, something that came incredibly handy when looking for a quick 'money dispenser'. After a quick 'chat' with the gentleman that thoroughly convinced him to avoid this area of Greyville in the future, Jesse arrived at the bar, quickly letting her blood-covered weapon disappear in the pockets of her sleeveless hoodie. She cared enough to superficially wipe the clearly visible blood on her arm away, leaving some less noticeable but still hardly secreted smears. Upon entering with an utterly amused expression - the evening started fairly entertaining after all - she sought a place at the counter, avoiding the general 'pack corner'. For her it was more fun to converse with the clueless human customers anyway, and that lessened the chances for a brawl with the other wolves too. Not that she was eager to avoid such a thing, but pretending to always looked better in the eyes of the alphas. Her choice of a seat was strategically closer to Avery than to Ryan. Unsurprisingly, she addressed the human when issuing her first order of the night. "Hey sweety, how about you pour me some vodka? Make it the good 'ol cheap stuff, alright?" Jesse wasn't the kind to ask for expensive stuff. Heck, she hardly ever had enough money on her to pay the tab after a night of drinking cheap shit. Living at the low end of low makes you numb enough to not care, though.</s> <\|message\|>Ryan Jameson Pounding the door until he heard the toilet flush was a good way to persuade Anton to actually flush her sick down. A single stall ladies room was within state regulations for a place this size, but only just. So when Anton opened up for Ryan, he was swinging so fast that he fell forward, spinning on his heel just in time to catch himself before clipping his face on the porcelain sink. "Christ Anton, you blew through that stuff, puke it down, then want more? If you weren't... well, you, then I'd say you're looking at killing your liver." Ryan knew for a fact, however, that there was no more of the 'Jet Fuel' behind the bar to be had. He'd have to go to the cooler for more. "Avery? Can you take over for me while I get more J-F for Anton? Thanks lovely!"</s> <\|message\|>Avery Avery wrote the special on the chalkboard after she went through her rounds, and as she did, she considered Ryan's questions. He had left before she could answer him, but she was glad for that. She didn't really have a relationship, but she wondered what would happen if she did. She knew how she would treat her boyfriend if she had one, and so she used her own advice to help Ryan. She didn't see him at the bar though. Strange, Avery thought. That was until she daw Ryan. He stood at the girls bathroom door, trying to communicate with someone on the inside. She sighed, and went into the back to prepare a hot herbal tea. Before she could though, she saw a blonde drawing all the attention, and smiled lightly. It was Fayth, and though Avery didn't know exactly how that girl made it in the world, she was kind of happy to see her. Fayth was always bright and bubbly. She heard Fayth call for her usual, and nodded. "Got it Fayth! It'll be there in a second." Then she heard another woman, and turned towards the voice with a curt nod. "On it." She rushed towards the bar, and looked under the counter for the vodka. She pulled out one of the cheaper brands, with a strong smell and a light kick. She poured it straight into a glass and sent it the lady's way. She took a chilled martini glass out of the freezer behind the bar, and grabbed the shaker on the way. She poured in some ice, some sour apple schnapps, vodka, and a sweet and sour mix. The whole concoction was very fruity, and it seemed like the perfect drink for Fayth. The mixture was soon shaken to perfection, and Avery poured it into the glass. She added a small black straw and two small cherries struck through with a plastic sword to mix, and started to bring it to the Fayth. "Fayth! Nice to see you!" Avery said, setting down the appletini and smiling brightly. "What are you doing out around here? I thought it was your day off!"</s> <\|message\|>Dimitri Kozlov The forceful wind pushed back against his hair and face, sending the short, dirty blonde locks backwards, but his sunglasses kept the wind from affecting his vision, allowing Dimitri to see ahead of him without any problems. His face was taut into a tight smirk, the wind nearly searing his skin with pure heat, but Dimitri's tough skin was used to biting, sharp cold, and extremely hot, sweaty climates, so this wasn't bad. Going 201 mph on his Suzuki Hayabusa, Dimitri loved this sort of adrenaline....everything moved by in a blur as he blazed a sparking, fiery trail down the mountain's long road, body spring-loaded and tense as he smoothly, sharply made a turn that sent him drifting on the curve, the back of his tire nearly touching the safety-gate that, if it hadn't been there, would probably have sent him flying off the mountain, into the forest below. Only the pure agilty and speed of his quick turning and his whip-smart brain allowed him to make the drift, and as the headlights of a nearby truck began shining in his direction, Dimitri steadily dropped his speed to a lower, but still dangerously fast, 94mph. The sound of his phone vibrating forced the hunter to lower his speed even more. At this point, Greyville was evident in the distance, and soon enough, he'd be on a high-population street, so he wouldn't even be able to go full speed. Keeping one hand on the gas and steering wheel, he opened up the text, reading it quickly. A smirk formed on his face. Yvette...a bar, hm? Probably the one that often times had an annoying lady that screamed and drank a lot of vodka, along with what seemed like the same group of people each, and every time. He had a nagging suspicion that something was going on there, but for now, it was more like a group of friends, than something more sinister. Putting his motorcycle back into gear, Dimitri gassed the engine. __________________ The tall man entered the bar, his dark, dirty blonde hair still rather wind-swept. Through the window, one could see the sleek, powerful black motorcycle that he had just parked outside, chained to the ground, and with small, unnoticeable silver spikes sticking out of the seat. The man glanced around once, gloved hands resting in the pockets of his leather jacket, before he caught sight of Yvette. Sitting down beside the other Hunter, Dimitri glanced up at a waitress, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. "A glass of water." He spoke up. His voice was deep, and rather accented with a noticeably Russian accent. He took off his sunglasses, exposing dark blue eyes, before pressing his gloved fingers against his temple. "A bar, girly?" The question was directed towards the smaller figure sitting beside him.</s>	<\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester The moon cycle was around again, surely like a clock that never stops ticking. And with that came the Backhouse. Ughh she hated that place. It reeked of alcohol, and reminded her of her own gruesome father, whose only purpose in this world was to indulge in that distasteful liquid. She never quite understood, why the werewolves would want to get drunk on the night before the full moon, or what was even the point of it, but since it was made a ritual, a filthy tradition, she could do nothing to prevent it. Yes, she was the alpha female, but she had no saying in this kinds of matters. Actually, she thought, she didn't have that many sayings in anything. It was always Carlson, who had the last word, which was overall fine as that's how the things work in the pack, but Mori was still getting annoyed. By the drinking, by the secrecy, by Ryan growling at her everytime she mentioned his boyfriend, and by her. Of course, Fay was there. Where else could she be? Oh, actually she could be anywhere, doing anything, it's a freaking miracle that she was now exactly where she was supposed to be. God, this Moon is making me crazy, Mori thought to herself, when she noticed how edgy she'd become upon arriving at the bar. She glanced over the bar, and her family members, and despite her better judgement decide to walk over to Fay, who was sitting by the counter. ''Fay,'' she said with a cold smile on her face. ''I thought we'd be missing you tonight, here. Don't you have anywhere else important to be? Like you do, you know…usually?'' Mori smirked at her, ordering herself a glass of juice as per usual.</s>
<\|description\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Age: 29 Appearance: Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega? Alpha Background: Morgana had always been an odd child. Unlike the other girls, she didn't care about the dolls and pretty dresses. She enjoyed spending her time with boys in the nearby forest. Hunting, fighting, building things...that was her definition of fun. Her father was an alcoholic, and he often took a swing at her and her mother. Morgana hated them both, equally. Father for his violence, and mother for her cowardness. She promised herself that one day she would put an end to all of this. Hanging out with the boys eventually made her stronger, and fearless to a fault, but nothing could equip her for vengeance better than what happened to her on one August's full moon night. She made a bet with the boys that she dares to walk across the forest alone, using only moonlight to light the way. She never thought she would be in danger out there. After all, the woods have been her second home. The place of joy, laughter, and freedom. She knew all the creatures that lived there, from a giant stag to a grumpy boar. But she had no idea that the forest had welcomed a new visitor. It all happened in a second. The sound of growling, ripping, screaming… And then nothing but silent darkness. She never learnt who was the werewolf that turned her that night. He left her alone in the woods, where she was later found by the local hunters, who took her to the hospital. She was badly wounded, but odly enough, her wounds had healed pretty fast. In just a few days time, she was back home with her parents, but the reunion wasn't quite like she anticipated. Her father hit her in the face, bloodying her nose, for she was misbehaving and needed to be punished. However, It was the last thing he did. Morgana's eyes flared up like fire, and then she throw herself at the old man and began to hit him again and again and again, until the voice of her mother's screaming brought her back to her senses. Upon seeing what she had done, she fled the house, and never returned. For almost a decade, she roamed the country looking for answers. She met a few packs, and even joined some for a while, but after witnessing too many werewolves being slaughtered by a hunter due to a bad leadership, she decided to create a family of her own. Starting with Ryan, the member of one of those failed packs, called the the Topeka pack. She practically snatched him away from Jared, the pack's alpha', after thoroughly showing them how she felt about their ways. So she had one wolf following around, but she knew that, finding and collecting the lost puppies wouldn't be as easy as joining the already established pack (even though the kind of pack she'd feel confortable in wasn't easy to find). So, after moving to California, she soon found the trail on the newest pack that was in need of another female alpha. The previous one had been killed off by a hunter, and the pack was left chaotic after that. Since the past had shaped her into being a natural leader, with a strong sense for community, she soon claimed her place. With her parents both dead (her mother killed herself after witnessing Morgana's outrage) and having no other siblings, she would do anything to protect her current pack. They are her only family. Her strength and her weakness. As a leader she can be as motherly as she can be cold and brutal. She is respected for her fairness, cunningness, and fearlessness. She would stand no tratiors, and would advice anyone, who wanted to take her place, to think about it twice. For their own sake.</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer Kalib let the woman take her bleeding friend from him and nodded. "Right," and headed inside. He recognized the black-haired bartender and ran to her. "Hey, call an ambulance. Some guy just fell outside and he's covered in blood! His friend it out there with him but he really needs to get to the hospital, and fast." Keeping his voice calm, he tried not to make anyone panic. He told himself in his head that the guy will be okay so long as 911 comes.</s> <\|message\|>Dimitri Kozlov Dimitri scowled once he saw the guy ask for the ambulance, rather than getting a medkit, as asked. Maintaining his temper; which he was rather easy at, the Russian got up from where he was leaning on the wall, nearby, moving towards the bar's counter. Easily sliding over, he quickly located the red and white medkit, underneath the counter's tabletop. Grabbing it, Dimitri slid back over the counter, long legs quickly striding him over to where his two accomplices were leaning against the building, outside. His sunglasses were back on, hiding his eyes, but it also allowed him to see easily, despite the darkness from the nightsky. Crouching down, Dimitri handed Yvette the first-aid kit, before taking a few steps back, so that he wouldn't get in her way. First-aid was definitely not his forte, and he knew that Yvette had training in it...most-likely from her delusional Uncle. "Dumbass..." He muttered underneath his voice, once again, but it was unknown on who the insult was directed towards.</s> <\|message\|>Nanix Erka Nanix watched Kalib come and tell her to call 911, then Demitiri come and take the kit. "... something tells me that guy has it" She pointed to him. "you want a drink?"</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer "Huh?" He turned, seeing the tail end of a hulking man leave with something red and white. ". . . . Oh. Er, okay. A rum and cola, please. . ." Kalib said, awkwardly seating himself at the bar. He felt like a spaz for running in like that, and a blockhead for not going for the first aid kit. Attempting not to look as embarrassed as he felt, he leaned against the counter. "How's the night going for ya? Got a lot of tips?" With the multiple times the pack has gone drinking before the full moon, Kalib had began to favor this bartender more then her co-workers and silently scolded himself for not asking her name after all this time. Seeking a peek over his shoulder, he wanted to see if anyone was staring or, at least, not noticing him. "Man, you mucked this one up real good. How will the pack expect to rely on you when you're being stupid and can't handle getting the first aid kit." Chastised his mind. It was one thing being one of the younger werewolves in the pack; its quite another being a young omega who needs to do his job.</s> <\|message\|>Avery Wind Avery listened patiently as Fayth talked and talked about the boys and getting tipsy, her lips almost never stopped moving. It could be good though, at times. Especially when things got uncomfortably silent. Then Fayth mentioned something about a gross guy who needed help, and Avery looked around, her tired eyes frantic. Yet...She saw no one. Avery turned back to Fayth and squinted. "Fayth, are you sure? I don't see anyone. Did he leave, did he look confused?" She resisted the urge to rest her hand on Fayth's forehead to check for a fever. "If you're busy right now, I'll let you get back to your friend's while I make my rounds. Uhh, ladies, do you want anything? Refills, food. Anything?" She took out her little notepad, flipping it open and bringing out a mechanical pencil, covered in scratches and stickers of rainbows. "I suggest our cosmos with a strawberry topping or a lemon twist. Its delicious!"</s> <\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow Fayth Morrow Between talking about guys and keeping track of everyone at the bar, this was getting exhausting. 'Yes, I'm sure you idiot.' She thought. Tired of everyone giving her lip. Seemed everyone had something to say around here. God, putting up with Jesse and her bad habit of street fights, Mori's suspicions, Ryan's boyfriend. Fayth needed to let out a big sigh. Instead of sipping on that weak appletini like a ditzy blonde girl would, she straight chugged it down in one go. 'Fuck, that's gross.' Fayth cringed. A whiskey girl at heart. Her hand grabbed a hold of Jesse's arm and she made sure to look at her. Even if Jesse might not make eye contact, Fay kept a steady and intense gaze on her face. "We can pick up the tab in much better ways. Safer ways." Keeping in mind everyone around. "Like, I could give you such great pointers, girlie!" Flash the big smile for the cameras. Turn, pose. Then looking over at Mori, she pat her on the back. "I'll be back honey, I know you want to talk to me so so badly." Fayth looked up at Avery. "By the way, this sweetheart right here," indicating Mori, "She ordered her usual. Some juice. No alcohol can you believe it? It's like she's against fun or something." Fay turned to the door. Her scent picking up the blood easily. It made her hair rise and her heart race faster. The blood of animals, she could deal with. But humans? She wanted to stay clear of that path. It didn't lead anywhere. Nowhere except a place of tears and blood. On her way out, Fay yelled out over to Kalib. The other omega who in fact was doing just fine. Calling 911 was one half of the job, the first-aid kit was the second. "Get on the phone and call 911, alright? Sound good? Great." Fay nearly rolled her eyes click-clacking with her ridiculous heels on out the door. Once outside she caught sight of the tall, muscular Russian. He didn't look like someone anyone would like to pick a fight with. Not even a guy Fay would like to fight. Then again, if she could avoid every fight, she would. Not to mention, while Fay was coming out to check on Thomas' health (he was a solid drinking partner), the beep of his phone also interested her. A quick snatch of his cellphone could be nice. The item could sell for a few dollars. Good money. Two problems being Dmitri standing there, and Yvette also watching over him. Fay kneeled down with Yvette. "Do you know what you're doing? If you don't, say so right now and I can take over from here! I'm having an ambulance called because let's be real here guys, he def needs to get to the hospital." Fay paused for a second. Looking at Thomas who was bleeding out. "Gauze, anti-septic wipes, anti-biotic, use the goddamn gloves or risk infecting him, and hurry up and use that mother fucking adhesive tape. If you don't hurry up, I will!"</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer Catching Fay's command as she, too, left out the door, Kalib felt only a smidge better knowing another omega was here in case he messed up. He pulled out his phone and dialed emergency services, telling them the situation, and getting back to what he was doing. "If that guy really does need help, at least someone's coming." He thought, a little less dismal this time. Shoving the negative thoughts from his head, he bucked up and resolved to focus on his job. Turning in his seat, he looked about the scene with alertness. If anything else were to go wrong, he'd make sure he'd catch it (and that he didn't do it himself). It seemed that the usual suspects were at the bar that night. The alphas, a few betas, a bunch of townsfolk looking to have a good night. Even though he was at the bar, he wasn't expecting to get too drunk that night. It wouldn't be new if a few hunters would try to scope out targets a few days before the full moon and Kalib wasn't going to let anyone hurt their pack. Not on his watch.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir @Trinais ~Anton~ Anton watched Ryan walk away with hungry eyes and made herself comfy on her chair. She should really come here regularly - force Ryan into working weeks, perhaps? Anton didn't really know how she felt about Ryan. His eyes are so dreamy... She was awoken by a rapid voice in her ear. "You are done drinking." "Fuck off Carlson. I can drink as much as I intend to. Which, like all of the rest of my private life, is none of your business." Anton watched Thomas being tended to by, literally, everyone. She took this as an opportunity to get away from Carlson, and lifting herself over the bar, went into the cooler room where she found Ryan. "Hey, Ryan? I've waited long enough, where do you store my Vodka?" She began rooting through cupboards without waiting for an answer. 'Fuckin' Ryan,' she thought.</s>	<\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Mori Did it only seem or was the bar really unusually loud that night? Sure, it was a rush hour, like every other month before the full moon. A pack of wolves ordering drinks, and causing minor troubles that come with that, then some other human locals, who were also more or less regular costumers in the bar. In all that crazy bunch, Mori noticed three fairy new visitors, who on a first glance seem to know each other. And yet they did not make an entrance together. That guy, who soon became the center of all the attention, bursting in the bar covered in blood, and then Mr. Muscles, as Fay called him, drinking water, while everyone around him was indulging in the mind numbing liquid. He sure seemed like a dream date for Mori, but judging from herself, she knew that you should never trust a man who does not drink alcohol, because they are probably up to something. She lost herself in thought with scanning the mysterious threesome, and completely overhead Fay's words about her not being fun due to drinking juice. When she finally got her drink, she realized all the fun had already moved outside, with the three strangers gone, and of course Fay, who seemed to take control of the situation pretty well. Strangely enough, that didn't bother Mori at all, what bothered her was the fact that Carlson was giving all the attention to Anton, who did what she knew best – victimize herself with overdrinking, and then getting all the attention for it. ''Carlson!'' she called for her partner, who didn't seem to hear her the first time. ''God dammit, Carlson!'' she called for him again, and then walked herself right next to him, right at the moment Antony managed to get away from his norturing grip. ''Something's up,'' she said through her teeth, looking at Carlson to see if he was monitoring his surroundings at all. ''Something is not right here. I can feel it.''</s>
<\|description\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Age: 29 Appearance: Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega? Alpha Background: Morgana had always been an odd child. Unlike the other girls, she didn't care about the dolls and pretty dresses. She enjoyed spending her time with boys in the nearby forest. Hunting, fighting, building things...that was her definition of fun. Her father was an alcoholic, and he often took a swing at her and her mother. Morgana hated them both, equally. Father for his violence, and mother for her cowardness. She promised herself that one day she would put an end to all of this. Hanging out with the boys eventually made her stronger, and fearless to a fault, but nothing could equip her for vengeance better than what happened to her on one August's full moon night. She made a bet with the boys that she dares to walk across the forest alone, using only moonlight to light the way. She never thought she would be in danger out there. After all, the woods have been her second home. The place of joy, laughter, and freedom. She knew all the creatures that lived there, from a giant stag to a grumpy boar. But she had no idea that the forest had welcomed a new visitor. It all happened in a second. The sound of growling, ripping, screaming… And then nothing but silent darkness. She never learnt who was the werewolf that turned her that night. He left her alone in the woods, where she was later found by the local hunters, who took her to the hospital. She was badly wounded, but odly enough, her wounds had healed pretty fast. In just a few days time, she was back home with her parents, but the reunion wasn't quite like she anticipated. Her father hit her in the face, bloodying her nose, for she was misbehaving and needed to be punished. However, It was the last thing he did. Morgana's eyes flared up like fire, and then she throw herself at the old man and began to hit him again and again and again, until the voice of her mother's screaming brought her back to her senses. Upon seeing what she had done, she fled the house, and never returned. For almost a decade, she roamed the country looking for answers. She met a few packs, and even joined some for a while, but after witnessing too many werewolves being slaughtered by a hunter due to a bad leadership, she decided to create a family of her own. Starting with Ryan, the member of one of those failed packs, called the the Topeka pack. She practically snatched him away from Jared, the pack's alpha', after thoroughly showing them how she felt about their ways. So she had one wolf following around, but she knew that, finding and collecting the lost puppies wouldn't be as easy as joining the already established pack (even though the kind of pack she'd feel confortable in wasn't easy to find). So, after moving to California, she soon found the trail on the newest pack that was in need of another female alpha. The previous one had been killed off by a hunter, and the pack was left chaotic after that. Since the past had shaped her into being a natural leader, with a strong sense for community, she soon claimed her place. With her parents both dead (her mother killed herself after witnessing Morgana's outrage) and having no other siblings, she would do anything to protect her current pack. They are her only family. Her strength and her weakness. As a leader she can be as motherly as she can be cold and brutal. She is respected for her fairness, cunningness, and fearlessness. She would stand no tratiors, and would advice anyone, who wanted to take her place, to think about it twice. For their own sake.</s> <\|message\|>Carlson Jakes Carlson Carlson turned to Kalib, and firmly stated - seeming to ignore Anton's whining and insubordinace "Kalib, get Anton back to the apartments. I am done dealing with her like a whining child." He said evenly, and with purpose. He had more important things to do, and he quickly realized that Anton's alcohol issue was not his problem- not right now anyway. He then, finally, turned to Stiofan "Don't follow them, Stephen, please" He requested "I will gather the Omegas tomorrow and draw up a battle plan of sorts. I don't like this just as much as you don't.... also, I want you there at the Omega meeting, is that clear?" Nanix Nanix grabbed Anton's arm "Who the HELL do you think you are?? That broken bottle is gonna come right out of my paycheck you twit!" She was not above yelling, like Carlson was, and she certainly was ready to kick Anton out.</s> <\|message\|>Anthar "Shadow Bolt" Raclaw Wow, this is going surprisingly well! He had very little experience with women, since life as a hunter does not leave much time for leisure. Anthar put on his best smile, trying not to look nervous and said: "That is why I came here after all. And I won't mind sharing my drink with a pretty lady like yourself!" He noticed her eyeing his muscular torso. That is one of the perks of being a werewolf hunter. He opened the door to the bar, and held it open for her, remembering the laws of etiquette. The moment he opened the door, the raucous sound of yelling came rushing out at him. There was a strong smell of alcohol and he could see blood drops all over the floor. The place was full of people, mostly between the ages of 20 and 30, and they all seemed to be angry. This isn't how I remember bars looking like. He didn't see anyone he knew inside. Not that he was surprised, he was new to this town, but anyway he had already found someone to talk to, or so it would seem.</s> <\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Mori Mori's mind was running a million miles a minute, trying to figure out whether this guy was a hunter in disguise, or was he just a random guy, wanting nothing but to get into some woman's pants. Either way, she decided to play it safe. As a woman she didn't care much for romance or male chivalry, so she'd never expect any man to hold the door for her the way this stranger did. Not really knowing how to respond, she just smiled akwardly, and stepped inside the bar, where chaos still persisted. At that point, Mori haven't had a plan yet as what to do with a possible hunter by her side, but she figured it would be better to handle things by herself. By the looks of it, she couldn't rely on anyone from her pack at that moment, because they all seemed to be busy with either Anton's or Fay's trouble-making. But still, she should at least tell someone of her intentions. ''Hey, I'm going to get us a bottle, and then we can head somewhere more quiet than this. There's a free storage room near the toilettes. I'm sure nobody will disturb us there,'' Mori purred with a seductive voice, she didn't knew she had up to that point, and winked at him. She then turned around, and almost throw up a little in her mouth, being disgusted by this whole flirting thing. She walked toward the bar, completely ignoring everything that was going on there, including Fay and her raging. She again approached Kalib, who seemed a bit confused, and frustrated, probably by the fact that no one was listening to him. ''Calib,'' she called for him. ''Change of plans. We are staying. I think we have a hunter in our midst. I'm going to go check him out. Privately. Inform Carlson. Be ready if something goes wrong,'' she instructed him quickly, while grabbing the first bottle of alcohol she could reach. She then took a walk back to her date, took his hand and pulled him toward the toilettes.</s> <\|message\|>Ryan Jameson Dammit all, but he hated Pack Night. Anton always got completely knocked off her rocker, the place became a mess, and Ryan had to leave early with everyone (full moon and all that), leaving Avery to clean up after this pack of mutts. Ryan had been able to mitigate this mess by hiding Anton's "jet fuel" vodka in a separate cooler from the rest of the hard stuff. He couldn't NOT sell to The Backhouse's most lucrative customer, but Mori's dislike of the hard drinking was well known. So Ryan took the initiative in hiding the heavy stuff in the meat locker. It was all well and good until his phone started buzzing. Michael. "Hey babe! What's up?" "Hey hon, just calling to let you know I can't find the house key, so the front door is going to be unlocked. That cool?" Not in the slightest. Aside from the usual home invaders, Ryan had a nasty feeling that, tonight of all nights, they needed to lock up the house. But he couldn't force Michael to stay home all night, not with his boyfriend already pissed and suspicious about the "Fishing trip" tonight. "Yeah babe. That's cool. I'll call one of the neighbors and ask them to keep an eye on the place." Of course, there was a loud crash of glass on hard floor, along with Anton's cursing from the regular booze cooler. Dammit all to hell! "Listen babe, gotta go- I love you!" "Bye." Great. Not even an 'I love you too.' He was in deep this time. Ryan snagged two bottle of jet fuel and hoofed it out of the freezer, shutting and locking the door behind him. He'd get to the broken glass later, but as he made it back behind the bar it dawned on him how packed the place had become. Full house- humans and wolves. Pretty soon the kitchen would be running orders out too. "Anton," he said, putting one bottle on the counter and another behind it. "This is your cutoff point. Just for making a mess in the back I'll have to clean up." Without another word, Ryan passed the second bottle of Jet Fuel to Mori. If the human didn't know what the stuff was, he'd get wasted in no time and not know which way was up. Mori would know how dangerous the stuff was to one's liver and tongue just from dealing with Anton. Leaning in to Mori, he said "Boss, I, ah, I'm gonna be late tonight. Michael lost his house key. Gotta lock up before group meeting."</s> <\|message\|>Anthar "Shadow Bolt" Raclaw "Toilets huh? Sounds romantic!" Anthar winked back at the girl as she walked away to get a bottle. I'm either very lucky or my nightmares have stopped and this is a dream. This is going really good. Almost too good... And why did that guy just pass her a bottle? Anthar was beginning to suspect something else was really going on here. But what if I'm just being paranoid and she's really into me? Ah, fuck it, I'm just being stupid. What is the worst that could happen? I have my two loyal pistols with me. She was back with the bottle, and with a seductive look she took his hand and pulled him to where he guessed the storage room was. "Hey, I don't think I got your name. I'm Anthar by the way. Anthar Raclaw." He was getting more excited and nervous with each second that passed.</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer He took in Mori's newest order and went straight back to Carlson, observing the surroundings as he went. The pack sure did a number on the bar every time they got here, he felt really bad for the staff. "Carlson, Mori just told me she thinks there's a hunter here in the bar. She wants everyone to stay." He paused for a moment, considering his most previous order from an alpha. "Should I still be bringing Anton home?" He asked with uncertainty. Sometimes having two alphas was helpful but other times, like now, it was a little confusing. Looking sideways as Anton stuffing her face with table popcorn, Kalib certainly hoped that no trouble would come about because he was sure that Anton wasn't going to be any help if, say, a fight happened. He also hoped that Fay was sober enough to help if the hunter caused problems for them. Their pack was strong but if half the wolves were drunk then. . . It'll suck for them, big time. As he waited for a response, he kept an eye on Anton in case he really had to bring her home.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir ~Anton~ Anton could barely stand it. Carlson was shouting commands for Kalib to make her leave, this random chick was clinging on her and basically screaming at her. Then Ryan had said no more drinks purely for the mess she made. AND Mori said we're not leaving, so who knows what to believe? Anton screamed as loud as she could to shut everyone up. "I will leave, ok? But don't expect to find me at my apartment." And with that, she promptly stormed (well, stumbled) out, flinging everyone off her. 'Hm, where should I go? Ooh, I know,' she thought whilst walking along, 'I'll go to the dump. Nobody will think to find me there!' And, thinking she was pure genius, Anton set off to the dump. She thought nobody was looking, so she applied a bit of ye olde 'wolf speed, jumping over bins and all that rubbish. She made it there easily and quickly, and began kicking the dirt around, taking out her anger. After a while of getting rid of the hate, Anton sat down against the wall and began to silently cry.</s>	<\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester ''Call me Mori,'' she smiled back at him, while leading him to a half-empty storage room. Inside, there were some stacks of beer cans, a few spared chairs, and a billiard table. Overall, a nice quiet place. ''Here... That's much better, isn't it?'' she asked, and turned around on her heels, facing him with a wondering eyes, while leaning her behind on a table. She then looked at the bottle she was holding, realizing for the first time just what kind of liver poison had Ryan given her. Oh, great! Since she wasn't much of a drinker, in fact she didn't drink alcohol at all, she had no idea, what kind of effect would that liquid have on her. She only knew that werewolves were supposedly able to drink more of it than ordinary humans did, before passing out, that is. Either way, she cared so much for her pack that she was prepared to break one of her most fundamental rules - no drinking alcohol. ''So, stranger, tell me about yourself. What is a man, handsome as you are, doing alone in this rat-hole? I know you are not from here, so don't lie,'' she asked him softly, while pretending to be awfully clumsy with opening that bottle in order to appear much weaker than she actually was.</s>
<\|description\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Age: 29 Appearance: Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega? Alpha Background: Morgana had always been an odd child. Unlike the other girls, she didn't care about the dolls and pretty dresses. She enjoyed spending her time with boys in the nearby forest. Hunting, fighting, building things...that was her definition of fun. Her father was an alcoholic, and he often took a swing at her and her mother. Morgana hated them both, equally. Father for his violence, and mother for her cowardness. She promised herself that one day she would put an end to all of this. Hanging out with the boys eventually made her stronger, and fearless to a fault, but nothing could equip her for vengeance better than what happened to her on one August's full moon night. She made a bet with the boys that she dares to walk across the forest alone, using only moonlight to light the way. She never thought she would be in danger out there. After all, the woods have been her second home. The place of joy, laughter, and freedom. She knew all the creatures that lived there, from a giant stag to a grumpy boar. But she had no idea that the forest had welcomed a new visitor. It all happened in a second. The sound of growling, ripping, screaming… And then nothing but silent darkness. She never learnt who was the werewolf that turned her that night. He left her alone in the woods, where she was later found by the local hunters, who took her to the hospital. She was badly wounded, but odly enough, her wounds had healed pretty fast. In just a few days time, she was back home with her parents, but the reunion wasn't quite like she anticipated. Her father hit her in the face, bloodying her nose, for she was misbehaving and needed to be punished. However, It was the last thing he did. Morgana's eyes flared up like fire, and then she throw herself at the old man and began to hit him again and again and again, until the voice of her mother's screaming brought her back to her senses. Upon seeing what she had done, she fled the house, and never returned. For almost a decade, she roamed the country looking for answers. She met a few packs, and even joined some for a while, but after witnessing too many werewolves being slaughtered by a hunter due to a bad leadership, she decided to create a family of her own. Starting with Ryan, the member of one of those failed packs, called the the Topeka pack. She practically snatched him away from Jared, the pack's alpha', after thoroughly showing them how she felt about their ways. So she had one wolf following around, but she knew that, finding and collecting the lost puppies wouldn't be as easy as joining the already established pack (even though the kind of pack she'd feel confortable in wasn't easy to find). So, after moving to California, she soon found the trail on the newest pack that was in need of another female alpha. The previous one had been killed off by a hunter, and the pack was left chaotic after that. Since the past had shaped her into being a natural leader, with a strong sense for community, she soon claimed her place. With her parents both dead (her mother killed herself after witnessing Morgana's outrage) and having no other siblings, she would do anything to protect her current pack. They are her only family. Her strength and her weakness. As a leader she can be as motherly as she can be cold and brutal. She is respected for her fairness, cunningness, and fearlessness. She would stand no tratiors, and would advice anyone, who wanted to take her place, to think about it twice. For their own sake.</s> <\|message\|>Jesse Williams Jess reached the cold, refreshing outside unnoticed. The air inside the bar was stagnant as hell, but one didn't notice unless confronted with normal levels of oxygen. The young woman took a few deep breaths, looking like she simply enjoyed the prickly cold sensation. But really, she was sniffing out the trace of Fay and Anton. As soon as she picked up the scent of the latter, her strolling pace turned into a bouncy, accelerated fast-walk. Those two, together in the same place, possibly far off from possible witnesses? That had to end in a bloody mess. There was no way Anton and Fay would have a normal talk ever, Jesse thought. Too much bad blood, omega vs ex-omega tension. A great deal of that instigated by her own petty lies whenever she tried getting Anton to attack someone, no doubt. To be fair, this pairing was the most obvious target for any instigator with half a brain. Though taking her time at first, Jess soon became impatient. How far had they gone? What where they doing anyway? Did Fay maybe plan to beat up Anton tonight, in secret, so she wouldn't be able to help Jess gang up on her at the noon-beat down? As dishonorable that would be, it was not beyond Fayth. A woman did a lot of despicable things to save her face. A dirty smirk crept on Jess face at the notion, how far the shining example of an omega had fallen. The scent became stronger around the old dump. Curious place to go at night indeed. Jess felt the cold steel of her brass knuckles and clutched them in her fist, invisibly inside her pocket. She could hear two familiar voices and quietly crept around the piles of trash and junk, not silent enough to properly sneak up on someone with their sense of hearing, but not eagerly giving away her presence either.</s> <\|message\|>Anthar "Shadow Bolt" Raclaw Anthar twisted softly, not expecting the bottle to be closed so tight. It was. Failing to open it the first time, he tried a second time with more force, finally getting it opened. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Now she will think I'm weak. Trying to hide his embarrassment, Anthar smiled at Mori. "I think we're missing some cups." He turned around searching the shelves around him for cups. He spotted a few glasses sitting next to some utensils on one of the shelves. He took two and set them down on the billiard table, then he poured from the mysterious drink into both glasses. He put down the bottle and handed one glass to Mori and the other he took for himself. "Cheers!" He raised his glass high, then put the glass to his lips and took a sip. "Wow, that is some strong shit!" He exclaimed, scrunching up his face. It was stronger than that vodka Randal gave him when he turned 21. "Anyway, what is a beautiful woman like you doing alone at a bar in the middle of nowhere?" he asked. He could already feel the alcohol starting to take effect.</s> <\|message\|>Thomas Young Thomas A steady sound of beeps greeted Thomas as he woke up, the smell of slight death was in the air. Slowly opening his eyes, the sound of beeps was apparently his heart rate, and being strapped in a ton of IV and his arm practically in mummy wear, the white walls and the plain walls quickly made him realize that he was admitted at a Hospital, again. "Crap, again huh? Well whatever, haha." he said outloud to no one in particular. Noticing no one was really around, he shrugged it off "Well I was never really the popular one." he said then laughed in a slightly sad tone. Lying back down, one of the Nurses entered and became wide eyed at Thomas, quickly running off and fetching one of the doctors. The doctor came in and told him about how he was lucky and the like for surviving with that deep of a wound and blood loss, Well that's not the first time I've heard that. he thought to himself. After a bit of surprised faces and condemning tone about him not going to the hospital immediately. Thomas just nodded and smiled and they seem to let him off the hook, though one of the Nurses has been glancing at him frequently with a tinge of red. He raised an eyebrow to this and thought, Must be imagining it. After a bit of more talking and the like, they finally let him rest, with a sigh he lied back down on his bed and was about to close his eyes, reaching for his phones where he thought it was, patting around the area he quickly became anxious. That phone... It fucking has all the hunters information. Where did I lose it? Calling one of the Nurses, the nurse who came was the one who Thomas thought she was glancing at, though she didn't meet his gaze, he sternly said to her, "Would you mind getting the woman who brought me here, right now, there's an issue." with only a wondering gaze, she nodded and disappeared into the hallway. Sighing, he lied back down again.</s> <\|message\|>Fayth "Fay" Morrow The Black "Follow him." Sound on the other end of the phone. "Your wounds will heal. Follow him." Fire glowed around the face of a muscular, powerful man. Scruffy face with the look of a man who had seen far too many winters. Where smiles went to die. Inside one of the caves they found in Greyville, The Black stood amongst his other spies. The entire pack was not present. Just The Black, his son Eric, and another of his trustworthy scouts; Jake. His follower who had escaped Thomas' traps and inflicted wounds on him was Deon. "Deon. I won't ask again." Silence on the other end, then sound. "Good. Text me the address of the hospital he ends up at." Click, the phone slipped into his pocket. One step ahead of everything. The Black turned to his son. "Put the fire out. We're moving out. I'll need you to keep watch at the hospital for suspicious humans. Notify me immediately." "Are you going to kill him?" "No. He might lead us right to your sister." "If she's even here." "I've been a tracker for many years. The trail continues here… I need to put fear and doubt in these hunters anyway." The orange glow within the cave snuffed out. Darkness as the men swiftly ran through the woodlands of Greyville. Running with unnatural grace and speed through the forests. Seeing in the night what no one else could see. Smelling and hearing what humans would miss. Soon the text came rolling in. Not long after, The Black appeared at the hospital. "Look casual." To this, Eric and Jake pulled out cigarettes and smoked. Looking around at anyone walking in or out of the hospital. The Black trotted forward. Boots on his feet. Dark jeans and a tight black shirt. His eyes an unnatural golden color that he couldn't turn off anymore. A trait he had gained from killing too many people. Though, he attributed it to a medical issue. Still, The Black did not fear to be seen by hunters like this. He disappeared into darkness much to quickly. The Black entered the hospital and exchanged looks with Deon who acted as a waiting visitor, sitting on one chair. Hiding the wound on his back and his leg. Healing quick. "Excuse me, my son was just admitted in here." "Name?" "Young. Marcus Young. His name is…" "Thomas?" "Yes." "One moment." The nurse left the desk for a moment. The Black leaned over the desk to see her computer. Thomas' information posted up. Including the room number. Within a moment, The Black was gone as she arrived back at the desk. Moving away and heading up an elevator. He walked down the hall. Boots slammed against the ground with heavy, ominous thuds. Arriving at his room and opening the door once Thomas's nurse had left. The Black strolled in. Grabbing a chair and taking a seat. "Hello, Thomas." The Black pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. "You don't mind, do you?" He didn't care. The Black lit the cigarette and smoked near Thomas's bed. Even when he lit the cig, his golden glare never left Thomas. "Those are some wounds on you. Must've been one hell of a knife fight." Deep breath. "Unless it was an animal you were hunting. A wolf maybe…"</s> <\|message\|>Thomas Young Thomas As he was lying down on his bed, the constant beeps of his heart rate became white noise to him. He was about to fall back to sleep due to the comfy bed he was lying on, this was till an immense feeling of dread filled his being. He looked around and saw a tall, figure, his very presence oozed fear, not towards him, but to others around him. His presence choked up Thomas, if there were ever alarms in your head that tells you something is dangerous, this was the time. He entered the room, then strides to a chair and quickly gets comfortable. Thomas' fight or flight kicked in and his adrenaline started to pump. "Hello, Thomas." said the tall frame with a cold and menacing tone, "You don't mind, do you?" while lighting a cigarette, with no apparent care for Thomas' consent. His Golden eyes was an oddity that perturbed Thomas, he couldn't help but feel a bit unnerved. "Those are some wounds on you. Must've been one hell of a knife fight." he said with a deep breath, glare never leaving his own, "Unless it was an animal you were hunting. A wolf maybe…" Through general conception and judging by his demeanor and cold eyes, he had already figured out this intimidating stranger was infact a werewolf. "Who are you." was the only phrase Thomas was able to choke out, practically glaring at him at this point.</s>	<\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Oh, for God's sake, you don't have to pretend. I know you hunters aren't as strong. She thought while observing him struggle with opening that bottle. While he was searching for the cups, Mori listened to the sounds coming from the bar, trying to distinguish what was going on in there. Since there was no sound of screaming, yelling or breaking things, she concluded that everything was alright. With hidden disgust she took the cup Anthar had given her, and clenched her fingers around it, wondering how could she get herself out of drinking alcohol. She followed Anthar's example, and raised her cup high in the air, only to then lower it again, far from her lips. His particular facial expression was enough proof to her, that she made a right decision not taking a sip. If Jet Fuel did that to him, God knows what would have done to Mori. But since she couldn't just stand there with a full cup in her hands, she had to act quickly. After his question, she took a few steps forward, and landed her hand gently on his chest. She licked her lips while observing his, and then raise her gaze up to his eyes. ''Me? Oh, I just come here to lure good looking men into this room, and then tricking them into drinking that awefully strong shit of a vodka,'' she smiled temptingly, sliding her hands to the sides of his waist as she was slowly to hug him.</s>
<\|description\|>Anthar "Shadow Bolt" Raclaw Age: 27 Appearance: Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Hunter If hunter: Were you born into it or did you become one by choice?: The answer is in the background, if it's not OK let me know! Background: Grew up in an orphanage in a bad neighborhood, never knowing who his parents were. At age 13 he fled the orphanage and took to the streets. He quickly learned to survive by pick-pocketing and thieving, and in times of need disappearing into the shadows, and he got quite good at it. One time when he was 17, he saw a man who seemed an easy enough target, so Anthar tried his trick of bumping into the target, then sticking his hand in the pocket and stealing whatever was there. His hand closed on a wallet. It felt quite fat, and fat means more cash, so smiling he pulled his hand out, still clenching the wallet. But before his hand left the pocket, he felt a big strong hand grasp his hand tightly. 'I've been caught!' he thought to himself, and tried to escape the powerful grasp of the hand, but to no avail. He looked up at the man and saw the man was grinning. Ten years later, under the training of that same man, who Anthar now knows as Randal Helwich, a successful werewolf hunter, Anthar has become a master of most weapons, though he favors the crossbow. He also has two Colt Python pistols (he uses silver bullets of course) which he can fire with extreme accuracy, and a silver machete coated with wolfsbane that he uses for close-combat. Randal taught him how to track werewolves, how to kill them and when to run away. He learned everything there is to know about hunting them. Randal gave Anthar a small bag of wolfsbane which hangs from a string that he wears around his neck. He told Anthar that that amulet has been passed on from father to son in his family for generations, and the amulet not only weakens werewolves, but it also protects the wearer from turning if bitten by a werewolf. A few weeks before, Anthar and Randal ran into some trouble on a hunt for a werewolf that had escaped from the last pack they destroyed. The werewolf surprise-jumped Randal, and they fell wrestling on the ground. Anthar aimed his crossbow at the werewolf, and fired. The bolt went through the werewolf's neck. Anthar ran to Randal and threw the dead werewolf off of Randal. To Anthar's dismay, he saw that the bolt went straight through the werewolf and was stuck halfway in Randal's chest. Randal was dead. For the past few weeks Anthar has been blindly hunting down pack after pack all over the country, seeking revenge. He will not stop until all the werewolves are dead, or he himself dies. On one of these hunts, he was tracking a werewolf who supposedly killed a few hunters. The werewolf with the scar beneath its left eye. He followed its footsteps and ended up at a warehouse. Anthar carefully entered the warehouse, looking in every direction. He noticed that someone had set traps all over the place. At the last moment Anthar noticed a razor sharp string. It was stretched out a few centimeters in front of his throat. He could already smell that it was laced with wolfsbane. Another hunter. Interesting. He continued carefully avoiding the many traps. Suddenly he heard a scream of pain. definitely a werewolf. He ran towards the noise. When he arrived he saw he had missed all the action. The werewolf he was tracking was lying dead, his throat slashed open. Lying beside the werewolf was a man, a hunter by the looks of him. He ran to the hunter and saw that on the hunter's left arm was a huge cut. The man already lost a lot of blood, and it didn't show any signs of stopping. He quickly picked up the unconscious hunter and carried him out on his back. He drove to the hospital as fast as his Chevy Impala '67 could go. A few days after that incident Anthar was contacted by a clan of hunters with a base in a town called "Greyville". They asked him to join their clan. The pay was pretty good, but Anthar wasn't the type of working together with others. On the other hand, working alone did get quite lonely at times. Anthar thought about it for some time, then decided he would go and check out the clan. Greyville was only 5 hours drive away, and he didn't find any new werewolf tracks anyway. The clan was a good bunch of people. Their leader, James, was very experienced and was a good leader too. Anthar was tired of being lonely with no one to talk to and he needed some cash for his gas and beer, so he decided to join them. Pretty cool to be part of a clan anyway.</s> <\|message\|>Anthar "Shadow Bolt" Raclaw Wow, this is going surprisingly well! He had very little experience with women, since life as a hunter does not leave much time for leisure. Anthar put on his best smile, trying not to look nervous and said: "That is why I came here after all. And I won't mind sharing my drink with a pretty lady like yourself!" He noticed her eyeing his muscular torso. That is one of the perks of being a werewolf hunter. He opened the door to the bar, and held it open for her, remembering the laws of etiquette. The moment he opened the door, the raucous sound of yelling came rushing out at him. There was a strong smell of alcohol and he could see blood drops all over the floor. The place was full of people, mostly between the ages of 20 and 30, and they all seemed to be angry. This isn't how I remember bars looking like. He didn't see anyone he knew inside. Not that he was surprised, he was new to this town, but anyway he had already found someone to talk to, or so it would seem.</s> <\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester Mori Mori's mind was running a million miles a minute, trying to figure out whether this guy was a hunter in disguise, or was he just a random guy, wanting nothing but to get into some woman's pants. Either way, she decided to play it safe. As a woman she didn't care much for romance or male chivalry, so she'd never expect any man to hold the door for her the way this stranger did. Not really knowing how to respond, she just smiled akwardly, and stepped inside the bar, where chaos still persisted. At that point, Mori haven't had a plan yet as what to do with a possible hunter by her side, but she figured it would be better to handle things by herself. By the looks of it, she couldn't rely on anyone from her pack at that moment, because they all seemed to be busy with either Anton's or Fay's trouble-making. But still, she should at least tell someone of her intentions. ''Hey, I'm going to get us a bottle, and then we can head somewhere more quiet than this. There's a free storage room near the toilettes. I'm sure nobody will disturb us there,'' Mori purred with a seductive voice, she didn't knew she had up to that point, and winked at him. She then turned around, and almost throw up a little in her mouth, being disgusted by this whole flirting thing. She walked toward the bar, completely ignoring everything that was going on there, including Fay and her raging. She again approached Kalib, who seemed a bit confused, and frustrated, probably by the fact that no one was listening to him. ''Calib,'' she called for him. ''Change of plans. We are staying. I think we have a hunter in our midst. I'm going to go check him out. Privately. Inform Carlson. Be ready if something goes wrong,'' she instructed him quickly, while grabbing the first bottle of alcohol she could reach. She then took a walk back to her date, took his hand and pulled him toward the toilettes.</s> <\|message\|>Ryan Jameson Dammit all, but he hated Pack Night. Anton always got completely knocked off her rocker, the place became a mess, and Ryan had to leave early with everyone (full moon and all that), leaving Avery to clean up after this pack of mutts. Ryan had been able to mitigate this mess by hiding Anton's "jet fuel" vodka in a separate cooler from the rest of the hard stuff. He couldn't NOT sell to The Backhouse's most lucrative customer, but Mori's dislike of the hard drinking was well known. So Ryan took the initiative in hiding the heavy stuff in the meat locker. It was all well and good until his phone started buzzing. Michael. "Hey babe! What's up?" "Hey hon, just calling to let you know I can't find the house key, so the front door is going to be unlocked. That cool?" Not in the slightest. Aside from the usual home invaders, Ryan had a nasty feeling that, tonight of all nights, they needed to lock up the house. But he couldn't force Michael to stay home all night, not with his boyfriend already pissed and suspicious about the "Fishing trip" tonight. "Yeah babe. That's cool. I'll call one of the neighbors and ask them to keep an eye on the place." Of course, there was a loud crash of glass on hard floor, along with Anton's cursing from the regular booze cooler. Dammit all to hell! "Listen babe, gotta go- I love you!" "Bye." Great. Not even an 'I love you too.' He was in deep this time. Ryan snagged two bottle of jet fuel and hoofed it out of the freezer, shutting and locking the door behind him. He'd get to the broken glass later, but as he made it back behind the bar it dawned on him how packed the place had become. Full house- humans and wolves. Pretty soon the kitchen would be running orders out too. "Anton," he said, putting one bottle on the counter and another behind it. "This is your cutoff point. Just for making a mess in the back I'll have to clean up." Without another word, Ryan passed the second bottle of Jet Fuel to Mori. If the human didn't know what the stuff was, he'd get wasted in no time and not know which way was up. Mori would know how dangerous the stuff was to one's liver and tongue just from dealing with Anton. Leaning in to Mori, he said "Boss, I, ah, I'm gonna be late tonight. Michael lost his house key. Gotta lock up before group meeting."</s> <\|message\|>Anthar "Shadow Bolt" Raclaw "Toilets huh? Sounds romantic!" Anthar winked back at the girl as she walked away to get a bottle. I'm either very lucky or my nightmares have stopped and this is a dream. This is going really good. Almost too good... And why did that guy just pass her a bottle? Anthar was beginning to suspect something else was really going on here. But what if I'm just being paranoid and she's really into me? Ah, fuck it, I'm just being stupid. What is the worst that could happen? I have my two loyal pistols with me. She was back with the bottle, and with a seductive look she took his hand and pulled him to where he guessed the storage room was. "Hey, I don't think I got your name. I'm Anthar by the way. Anthar Raclaw." He was getting more excited and nervous with each second that passed.</s> <\|message\|>Kalib Xeer He took in Mori's newest order and went straight back to Carlson, observing the surroundings as he went. The pack sure did a number on the bar every time they got here, he felt really bad for the staff. "Carlson, Mori just told me she thinks there's a hunter here in the bar. She wants everyone to stay." He paused for a moment, considering his most previous order from an alpha. "Should I still be bringing Anton home?" He asked with uncertainty. Sometimes having two alphas was helpful but other times, like now, it was a little confusing. Looking sideways as Anton stuffing her face with table popcorn, Kalib certainly hoped that no trouble would come about because he was sure that Anton wasn't going to be any help if, say, a fight happened. He also hoped that Fay was sober enough to help if the hunter caused problems for them. Their pack was strong but if half the wolves were drunk then. . . It'll suck for them, big time. As he waited for a response, he kept an eye on Anton in case he really had to bring her home.</s> <\|message\|>Anton N. Vladiscnir ~Anton~ Anton could barely stand it. Carlson was shouting commands for Kalib to make her leave, this random chick was clinging on her and basically screaming at her. Then Ryan had said no more drinks purely for the mess she made. AND Mori said we're not leaving, so who knows what to believe? Anton screamed as loud as she could to shut everyone up. "I will leave, ok? But don't expect to find me at my apartment." And with that, she promptly stormed (well, stumbled) out, flinging everyone off her. 'Hm, where should I go? Ooh, I know,' she thought whilst walking along, 'I'll go to the dump. Nobody will think to find me there!' And, thinking she was pure genius, Anton set off to the dump. She thought nobody was looking, so she applied a bit of ye olde 'wolf speed, jumping over bins and all that rubbish. She made it there easily and quickly, and began kicking the dirt around, taking out her anger. After a while of getting rid of the hate, Anton sat down against the wall and began to silently cry.</s> <\|message\|>Morgana ''Mori'' Winchester ''Call me Mori,'' she smiled back at him, while leading him to a half-empty storage room. Inside, there were some stacks of beer cans, a few spared chairs, and a billiard table. Overall, a nice quiet place. ''Here... That's much better, isn't it?'' she asked, and turned around on her heels, facing him with a wondering eyes, while leaning her behind on a table. She then looked at the bottle she was holding, realizing for the first time just what kind of liver poison had Ryan given her. Oh, great! Since she wasn't much of a drinker, in fact she didn't drink alcohol at all, she had no idea, what kind of effect would that liquid have on her. She only knew that werewolves were supposedly able to drink more of it than ordinary humans did, before passing out, that is. Either way, she cared so much for her pack that she was prepared to break one of her most fundamental rules - no drinking alcohol. ''So, stranger, tell me about yourself. What is a man, handsome as you are, doing alone in this rat-hole? I know you are not from here, so don't lie,'' she asked him softly, while pretending to be awfully clumsy with opening that bottle in order to appear much weaker than she actually was.</s>	<\|message\|>Anthar "Shadow Bolt" Raclaw Her eyes are stunning. "Well Mori, I hunt vampires for a living. I'm a vampire hunter." Anthar paused a few seconds, then put on a small smile. This wasn't the first time he had to answer that question, so he had an answer ready. "I'm joking of course. I am an artist. A painter. I travel the country looking for small towns like this. Small towns usually have the best views, and also they give me inspiration." Anthar noticed Mori was struggling to get the bottle open. "You need help with that?" Anthar pointed at the bottle, "What is it? Whiskey?"</s>
<\|description\|>Abigail Blanchett Age: 17 Gender: Female Appearance: Abigail is fairly tall, standing around a solid 5'7". Her natural skin color is usually quite pale compared to most other people. A rather striking feature, that a lot of people find rather attractive. Her feature she likes most, however, is her hair. Her long purple hair is usually tied back into a pony tail. Most people tend to notice her bright green eyes at first, however, much to her own chagrin. She hates the color green. Despite her liking her hair, she doesn't particularly care so much about her appearance. Despite her mom being a bit of a fashionista, she's always taken after her father - an ex Private Investigator. (Also ignore that blue streak. Just now noticed it, and I am too lazy to find another picture xP) Personality: Where to start with her personality? If one were to go by first impressions only, they would simply assume that she's a girl who thinks she's ten times better than everyone at everything. She will often state how much she doesn't like other people and do it quite loudly as well. Its the honest truth, to her. She thinks everyone else will slow her down. She doesn't like interacting with other people, even more so when its against her will. So this whole journey thing, is going to be...interesting, for her at least, since she find most other people quite annoying. However, despite that grumpy, somewhat brash, some would even say arrogant exterior, is a girl who really and truthfully just wants a friend who'll put up with her nonsense, no matter how troublesome she could possibly be. Unfortunately, 'friendship' is a foreign concept to her and she had no idea how to even be friendly. Most often, she can only resort to some sort of insults or something else that makes her seem like she only did something for herself. However, once she finally warms up to someone, they'll find a secret side to her that is surprisingly thoughtful, and a bit on the sweet side. That doesn't mean its any easier for her - in fact, she's quite nervous about being seemingly to be nice to people. Most often, they'll find her a stuttering and blushing mess, especially if said being nice involves some kind of physical contact, like say...a hug. Think of her as a grumpy Tsundere cat that secretly likes being cuddled with~ xP History: Abigail is originally from Kalos, growing up in the center of of the country - Lumiose. She was born to a mother who was a rather well known fashion designer, and her father who was a Private Investigator. For a time, she grew up there and was quite happy with her life. Well, happy to her in any case. Her parents, despite being rich didn't want to spoil their daughter so they made her work for almost anything she wanted. So, at an early age she developed a need to be the best at everything she worked at. Working harder yielded better rewards, no? When she was around the age of six, her father and mother split - though she never understood why exactly. She moved to Johto with her father, and they settled down in the city of costal city of Olivine, where she spent the rest of the years growing up. Her father was a bit less lax on her being spoiled, but by now she had gotten it into her head she had to be the absolute best. Actually, no, she was the best and she wasn't going to let anyone tell her otherwise. She graduated trainers school at the top of her class a few years later when she was 16. After that, she wasn't quite sure what to do with her life. Sure trainer school was promising and all, but she had never actually considered it as an actual career...but oddly enough, the allure of danger and adventure was just too good, despite the law stating travelling in pairs was necessary. So, she signed up for a license, and set off for Newbark Town. Quirks/Habits/Other: - Surprisingly, likes eating a lot. Good food is just one way to get on her good side. Where it all goes...people don't know. - She's surprisingly strong for her size. Physical fitness was something her father also drilled into her. She still likes doing a light jog in the mornings, and waking up at the crack of dawn. - Do not mess up her hair. its the only thing she actively takes care of appearance wise. Mess it up, you will die. - has an interest in martial arts, but has never actually tried learning them. Inventory: - Pokeballs x5 - Burn Heal x5 - Paralyze Heal x5 - Sleep Heal x5 - Antidote x5 - Potion x5 - First-aid kit, for minor scrapes and injuries (x1) - Extra clothes x2 (including pajamas) - Holo-caster, souvenir from Kalos. Works with older and other phones too, but no Hologram will be displayed unless it's communicating with another Holo Caster. - Hair-Care products, and various hair ties - Camping stuff. - 100$ - Johto Map - Repel (x2) All stuffed into her shoulder bag, rather unorganized. Pokemon: Received from Professor Elm Name: Tyrian Gender: Male Ability: Poison Point Brave Nature Good Perseverance Personality: Some might say he's a bit on the derpy side, but if pokemon could talk, he'd simply say he's highly curious about the world. Level: 6 Moves: Leer Peck Caught on Route 29 Gender: Female Ability: Swarm Impish Nature Likes to thrash about Personality: A mischievous little bug, who really doesn't seem to like humans so much. Level: 4 Moves: Poison Sting String Shot Theme~ xP TL;DR: A somewhat Arrogant Tsundere, who really doesn't seem to like people, but secretly likes being cuddled with by people she likes. Her color is PURPLE</s> <\|message\|>Peggy Atkinson - Peggy Atkinson - With that single slap, chaos broke lose from the rest of the group, and Peggy, currently seeming to be in a state of shock from what she had just done, just watched blankly as the madness unfolded. Jackson pulled out a guitar-like instrument and started playing a mocking song, unmistakably directed at Abigail, and Blake was now in hysterics. Avery, with a shout of "Aww… GROUP HUG~!", gathered both Peggy and Abigail in a warm, friendly embrace, and Peggy could only imagine he was trying to act peacekeeper. Her body tensed at the contact. She got hugs from her mother often, as Erica seemed to need some reassurance throughout the day that Peggy was not only safe, but still loved and appreciated her as a mother. However, Peggy hadn't been hugged by a guy for over a year now, since her grandfather had died, it made her feel uncomfortable. She apparently wasn't the only one. "G-get off!" snapped Abigail. Peggy could see that she blushing as she tried to pull away from the boy. Seemed like she and Abigail ahd at least one thing in common. "Arceus Avery, warn me next time when you're going to go touching people! Some of us don't...don't like...uhm...the whole...touching thing." After getting free of Avery's hug, Abigail turned back to Peggy. "You know," she continued. "I'm not going to waste my time on someone with such hideous taste in clothes." The words stung a little, but no where near as much as Abigail's earlier comments about Peggy's family. "I mean really, green? That is the most disgusting color in the history of mankind. I think you'd actually look better in...maybe a bright red? Perhaps a blue or a yellow." Peggy didn't say anything in return and simply watched as Abigail walked off a little away from the rest of them. Was she mad? Upset? It seemed like she might be. Melody followed soon after, and Peggy was left there, being awkwardly hugged by Avery. After a moment, Peggy pulled away from Avery's hug, feeling the shock starting to wear off a little and give way to sensations of guilt and shame. Why had she done that? Peggy hugged hers arms to her chest, looking down at her shoes. Yes, what Abigail had said was mean, but was hitting her really the best response? She should have just sucked it up and remained silent and unmoving, should have just taken it. At worst, she should have attempted some kind of retort, not too hurtful but snappy enough. But no, Peggy'd gone and overreacted. Big surprise. While Peggy was moping, Jasper had been watching her trainer with half-interested expression, but seemed to be getting bored now that Peggy had gone all mopey on her and turned her attention to some leaves blowing past, carried by a gentle breeze, and went after them, batting and swiping at them with her paws in a manner that partly playful, yet partly aggressive. Now that the chaos was slowly started to die down, Ryley, clearly the most mature of the group, stepped forward. "How about we make camp soon guys? I don't know about you guys, but a bit of rest sounds amazing". Peggy didn't respond, didn't feel she had the right to speak at the moment after how she had behaved and simply shifted her weight awkwardly from foot to foot.</s> <\|message\|>Alexander "Alex" Elric -Alexander Elric- Well... This was different. So, to recap what had just happened: Abigail was verbally attacking Peggy, Peggy retaliates with a slap. In response Jackson starts to ridicule Abigail with a song and Blake starts laughing his ass off about the whole occurance. And to top it all off the airhead Avery, who was completely oblivious to everything, difuses the situation with a hug... What!? Riley came up with the briliant idea of setting up camp. Finally someone that made sense! Alex looked over at the rest of the group. Abigail and Peggy both didnt look so good. No wonder, Peggy is as introverted as can be and was the center of all the attention just now, ofcourse she's not doing so well now. And Abigail... As much as he might dislike her, she was being picked on by everyone right now. No one deserves that, not even Abigail. The sun was setting and Alex was thinking about where to set up camp. But first he had something to make clear to the group... Alex walked up to Blake who was still rolling around on the ground laughing at what just happened. Alex gave a "gentle" kick to Blakes head. "Get up idiot! Stop making a fool out of yourself!" He turned around to face Jackson. "And you, do you think this is the right time for a song?" Alex faced the rest of the group. "Are you all insane? Nightfall is close, we should be setting up camp and all we are doing is squabling amongst ourselves or rediculing members of our group. Is this how we are going to act from now on?" He looked at Jackson and Blake, then at Abigail. "Yes, we might not all agree with one another and yes, some people might have left a bad first impression. But does that really mean we should already shun them? Already mock them?" Alex walked up to Abigail. "I'm sorry for my comment about your hair earlier, it was uncalled for." He looked over at Peggy and then back at Abigail. "And I think you realise that what you said to Peggy was uncalled for aswell so please, for the sake of the group, would you want to appologise about earlier to her? Maybe she would then appologise to you aswell." He smiled at Abigail, hoping that it would convince her... And Eevee bumped with his little head against Abigail, trying to push her towards Peggy.</s>	<\|message\|>Abigail Blanchett By now, she had put a few yards of distance between herself and the rest of the group. She had no more desire to socialize with any of them, and if at all possible, once they got to Cherrygrove she'd probably head off by herself without them. Damn the laws. She could take care of herself, she always had. She always had to, and that wasn't gonna change now. "Abigail…they're all idiots. You know that, right? Your suggestion was just as good as theirs, and they had no right to act the way they did. But, uh… I'll always be your friend. And I'm always on your side. Okay?" Just one little pink-haired problem. "Friend? Don't make me laugh." Abigail snapped. "I don't know why you're being so friendly Melody, but I'm not an idiot. I'm not really a nice person, I get that, and I really don't care. Those morons can all get eaten by a wild mightyena for all I care." She stopped, turning around the face the other girl. "So. Why are you really being nice to me, hmm? Not like we're friends, We've known each other for barely even a half of a day." She sighed, taking her purse and setting it on the ground, arceus, she was tired for some reason. "So why, don't you, leave me alone." She said to Melody. "How about we make camp soon guys? I don't know about you guys, but a bit of rest sounds amazing". Thankfully, she wasn't the only one who said camp would be a good idea. She could use the sleep....hell, she might wake up early enough tomorrow and head to Blackthorn by herself. Tyrian and her new spinarak would definitely be up to the task, she was sure. "I'm sorry for my comment about your hair earlier, it was uncalled for. And I think you realise that what you said to Peggy was uncalled for aswell so please, for the sake of the group, would you want to appologise about earlier to her? Maybe she would then appologise to you aswell." Annnd just as she finally drowned out the rest of the groups nonsense, one of the idiots decided to walk up. The one who made a comment about her hair. What was his name? Alexander. Right. He was apologizing, and he wanted her to apologize?! Pfffft. The thought made her laugh again. These idiots... "Like I'm apologizing to her." She said to Alexander. "And she doesn't need to apologize either." She continued with a huff. "I mean't every word I said. If that daddy's girl doesn't toughen up, she's gonna get hurt. So no, I'm not apologizing. I said it, and I meant it. Honestly, I think her slapping me was a good start." She smugly replied, like she had helped Peggy in some way. "Now why, don't you all leave me alone, hm? I have no desire to talk with you idiots any more. Ah...just one thing. I think making camp would be a good idea. We can decide where we're going tomorrow morning." With that, she said nothing more to Alexander, Melody, or the rest of the group and went about setting up her own little campsite.</s>
<\|description\|>Abigail Blanchett Age: 17 Gender: Female Appearance: Abigail is fairly tall, standing around a solid 5'7". Her natural skin color is usually quite pale compared to most other people. A rather striking feature, that a lot of people find rather attractive. Her feature she likes most, however, is her hair. Her long purple hair is usually tied back into a pony tail. Most people tend to notice her bright green eyes at first, however, much to her own chagrin. She hates the color green. Despite her liking her hair, she doesn't particularly care so much about her appearance. Despite her mom being a bit of a fashionista, she's always taken after her father - an ex Private Investigator. (Also ignore that blue streak. Just now noticed it, and I am too lazy to find another picture xP) Personality: Where to start with her personality? If one were to go by first impressions only, they would simply assume that she's a girl who thinks she's ten times better than everyone at everything. She will often state how much she doesn't like other people and do it quite loudly as well. Its the honest truth, to her. She thinks everyone else will slow her down. She doesn't like interacting with other people, even more so when its against her will. So this whole journey thing, is going to be...interesting, for her at least, since she find most other people quite annoying. However, despite that grumpy, somewhat brash, some would even say arrogant exterior, is a girl who really and truthfully just wants a friend who'll put up with her nonsense, no matter how troublesome she could possibly be. Unfortunately, 'friendship' is a foreign concept to her and she had no idea how to even be friendly. Most often, she can only resort to some sort of insults or something else that makes her seem like she only did something for herself. However, once she finally warms up to someone, they'll find a secret side to her that is surprisingly thoughtful, and a bit on the sweet side. That doesn't mean its any easier for her - in fact, she's quite nervous about being seemingly to be nice to people. Most often, they'll find her a stuttering and blushing mess, especially if said being nice involves some kind of physical contact, like say...a hug. Think of her as a grumpy Tsundere cat that secretly likes being cuddled with~ xP History: Abigail is originally from Kalos, growing up in the center of of the country - Lumiose. She was born to a mother who was a rather well known fashion designer, and her father who was a Private Investigator. For a time, she grew up there and was quite happy with her life. Well, happy to her in any case. Her parents, despite being rich didn't want to spoil their daughter so they made her work for almost anything she wanted. So, at an early age she developed a need to be the best at everything she worked at. Working harder yielded better rewards, no? When she was around the age of six, her father and mother split - though she never understood why exactly. She moved to Johto with her father, and they settled down in the city of costal city of Olivine, where she spent the rest of the years growing up. Her father was a bit less lax on her being spoiled, but by now she had gotten it into her head she had to be the absolute best. Actually, no, she was the best and she wasn't going to let anyone tell her otherwise. She graduated trainers school at the top of her class a few years later when she was 16. After that, she wasn't quite sure what to do with her life. Sure trainer school was promising and all, but she had never actually considered it as an actual career...but oddly enough, the allure of danger and adventure was just too good, despite the law stating travelling in pairs was necessary. So, she signed up for a license, and set off for Newbark Town. Quirks/Habits/Other: - Surprisingly, likes eating a lot. Good food is just one way to get on her good side. Where it all goes...people don't know. - She's surprisingly strong for her size. Physical fitness was something her father also drilled into her. She still likes doing a light jog in the mornings, and waking up at the crack of dawn. - Do not mess up her hair. its the only thing she actively takes care of appearance wise. Mess it up, you will die. - has an interest in martial arts, but has never actually tried learning them. Inventory: - Pokeballs x5 - Burn Heal x5 - Paralyze Heal x5 - Sleep Heal x5 - Antidote x5 - Potion x5 - First-aid kit, for minor scrapes and injuries (x1) - Extra clothes x2 (including pajamas) - Holo-caster, souvenir from Kalos. Works with older and other phones too, but no Hologram will be displayed unless it's communicating with another Holo Caster. - Hair-Care products, and various hair ties - Camping stuff. - 100$ - Johto Map - Repel (x2) All stuffed into her shoulder bag, rather unorganized. Pokemon: Received from Professor Elm Name: Tyrian Gender: Male Ability: Poison Point Brave Nature Good Perseverance Personality: Some might say he's a bit on the derpy side, but if pokemon could talk, he'd simply say he's highly curious about the world. Level: 6 Moves: Leer Peck Caught on Route 29 Gender: Female Ability: Swarm Impish Nature Likes to thrash about Personality: A mischievous little bug, who really doesn't seem to like humans so much. Level: 4 Moves: Poison Sting String Shot Theme~ xP TL;DR: A somewhat Arrogant Tsundere, who really doesn't seem to like people, but secretly likes being cuddled with by people she likes. Her color is PURPLE</s> <\|message\|>Ryley Grisdoe ~Ryley Grisdoe~ Well, the Growl attack did slow the Onix down, but not when it decided to use it's brain. Ryley couldn't help but groan. Of course it knew Rock Polish. Of course. And just to add to this wonderful mess, a torrent of rocks pelted down ahead of them. That certainly didn't help their escape. Hell, Abigail nearly got crushed by one! ...He recalled Fern just in case. Running was still the best option, but it was getting bleaker by the second. They needed to slow down the Onix even more. There were trees around them. Bringing one down in front of, or even on the rock snake would slow it quite a bit. The problem was finding a way to bring a tree crashing down. As Ryley was entertaining ways to fell a tree, Melody decided to act. "Run, Abigail! It's too fast, we have to split up!" ...No no no. Splitting up would be the worst thing to do now. They needed to find a way to slow it down with a variety of- "I'll try and lead it in a different direction. You guys get away, I'll be fine!" No no no no no no no. No no no. No. What the hell Melody. Seriously, what the hell. You don't just do that. You don't just lead a gigantic rock snake away all by yourself. She had gotten into a dangerous situation earlier with the Spinarak, but that was different as they didn't know how dangerous it was. This time, they all knew the danger (Well, maybe not Avery…), and Melody was still… By the time Ryley's thoughts cooled down, Melody had managed to distract the Onix, and was leading it away from everyone else. She was fast, he had to give her credit, but a speed boosted Onix wasn't anything to wag a finger at. ...And here he was, just standing like an idiot. Well, time to act. Deja vu could really suck sometimes. "I'm going to hate myself for this…" Muttering contemptuously helped calm him down as he made his next move, calling out to the group. "I'm going after her. She's going to get herself killed". Without waiting for a response, Ryley turned around and chased after Melody. He couldn't see either Melody or the Onix in sight, but the trail of destruction certainly helped. It took a while to catch up, but when he did, his blood ran cold. The Onix was there, but it had stopped. Frightening on its own, but the scary part was Melody was nowhere to be seen. Ryley's thoughts turned towards various scenarios that could have played out, none of them pleasant. Almost all of them ending with Melody being dead. At least, they all did until Ryley noticed a flash of pink in a bush by the trail. That was a big relief. She wouldn't be able to hide long at that spot, but at least she was alive. Now the burden of action lay upon Ryley. What would be the best course of action in this case? He needed to get in contact with Melody, make sure she was okay, but the Onix was currently looking around, probably for Melody, which inhibited his actions. First he needed to distract the snake somehow. The rest could come later. Ryley picked up two decently sized rocks laying in the Onix's wake and threw them in quick succession in the opposite direction of Melody's location. As he waited for them to land, he noted the direction he threw them in was towards the Spinarak nest. Maybe, just maybe, he could use that to his advantage. In any case, as soon as the rocks landed, the Onix turned towards the new sounds created. Best case scenario, the Onix would follow the sounds presuming that's where Melody fled. As for almost every other scenario, more work was to be done. Ryley used his created opportunity to rush over to Melody's hiding spot, sliding behind the bush, hopefully out of view. He had to make this brief. "Sorry for barging into your party, but we need to lead it to the Spinarak nest". Ryley couldn't look to see what the Onix was doing, but he hoped it was blindly following the sounds of the rocks. That would save them from the possibility of death. Y'know, nothing big or anything.</s> <\|message\|>Melody Avery Hemlock ~Melody Hemlock~ Sounds. Lots of sounds. Footsteps, the light breeze, the unmistakeable sound of a giant rock snake sliding along the ground… Well, it was a lovely day for dying. That, at least, was for certain. And then suddenly, there came a voice out of nowhere, like a messenger of salvation. If she was religious, she'd have said that it was like he'd been sent by Lord Helix himself. "Sorry for barging into your party," said Ryley. "But we need to lead it to the Spinarak nest." Melody stared at him. She… hadn't really expected anyone to come after her. Really, she'd basically resigned herself to a slow and painful death. But… Ryley had come after her. Ryley had followed her right into the face of danger, and now here he was, trying to save her. She wanted to cry, and she really wasn't sure why. Her throat felt a little tight. This boy can be your friend too, whispered the ugly little voice in Melody's head. You wanted friends, didn't you? He's not Abigail, but protect him with your life anyway. And maybe if you stick with it for long enough, he'll be grateful enough to be your friend forever. That's what you want, right? To have friends? It wasn't fair to think like that, and Melody shook herself. They had to survive the Onix first. But she smiled tentatively anyway. She had to be brave, even if Abigail wasn't here, and especially in front of… her newest friend. Because really-- someone showing up to save your life, right in the nick of time? Well, it's pretty hard not to feel grateful to them. Even if you're probably both going to die. "T-thanks," she said tentatively. A quick glance up told her that the Onix was heading in the opposite direction. Were they in the clear? "For… for coming after me. I didn't think anyone would." Unfortunately not. Even as she watched, it swung around, starting to head back. Ryley was still standing up— not good. Melody thought fast: in a surprising display of strength, she yanked him down onto the ground next to her. "Sorry," she whispered, recalling her Pokemon at the same time. And then it hit her… like a ton of rocks. Heh. So paying attention in biology in middle school was going to pay off after all. "Let's play dead," she said, as softly as she could manage. "I don't know if we'll be able to lead it to the Spinarak nest in time. But… Onixes don't eat meat, do they? I'm pretty sure they only eat rocks. So it was probably chasing us because it was angry, not because it actually wants to eat us. If it thinks we're dead, it'll leave us alone... uh, hopefully."</s>	<\|message\|>Abigail Blanchett "Run, Abigail! It's too fast, we have to split up! I'll try and lead it in a different direction. You guys get away, I'll be fine!" Well, Abigail wasn't going to be arguing with that. If the pink haired girl was going to pretend to be bait, then she wasn't going to argue. Not at all. Not like she even cared about what would happen if the Onix did, in fact catch her. The girl said nothing as Melody ran off, the Onix speeding off after her while Abigial ran in the direction that was not going to lead to certain death. She still didn't really understand why the girl would even do that for her of all people, but she wasn't going to lose sleep over it. So, she ran as fast as she could. After a few minutes, she was sure her and the others were fairly safe. At least, safe enough and far enough away from the Onix. She was a bit winded, but nothing too bad. Thank Arceus for morning runs and other work outs. After catching her breath for a few seconds, she turned around, Tyrian seeming to be bored and sitting idly on the ground by her feet, as though he had already forgotten about the onix. "I think...I think we're good." she said to the others with a laugh. "First attacked by a nest of angry spinaraks, and then chased by an Onix! Well, that's a fun way to start our little adventure!" She said, dropping her bag on the ground, her stomach growling somewhat loudly in the process. "Uhm...well. Who says we make camp now? I could go for some food." Camp, and food, that sounded wonderful right now. And then tomorrow they'd head towards Cherrygrove. Blackthorn was out of the question now, since that Onix was standing between them and the road there, and not to mention it had chased them away from it. Oh well. She'd go there later...and catch a Skarmory later.</s>
<\|description\|>Melody Avery Hemlock Age: 16 Gender: Female Appearance: Standing at about 5'2", Melody's small stature and general lack of presence make fading into the background pretty much a fact of her existence. As a matter of fact, the most eye-catching thing about her is her hair… but even that's mostly because it's bright pink and really, really long. Despite this, the importance of taking care of one's appearance is one of the few things that Melody's mother took the time to drill into her head, and as a result, Melody is exceptionally good at things like doing hair, applying make-up tastefully, and color-coordinating outfits. While she isn't a fashionista by any stretch of the imagination, Melody always looks presentable... even though half the time, no one's really registered her presence well enough to appreciate it. Personality: Melody's a fairly sweet girl most of the time. She's not particularly shy, and really quite talkative, once someone's actually noticed she's there. As a girl brought up in a well-to-do family by parents who placed a high value on manners, Melody is polite to everyone and anyone, even if it's mostly by force of habit. In other words, she's really quite friendly, and for all appearances, harmless. Beneath that well-mannered exterior, however, is an obsessively clingy girl with a grip like a vice and some incredibly possessive tendencies. Melody cherishes her friends… maybe a little too much, actually. Even though she's never really experienced a long-term friendship, the concept of "best friends forever" is one that is very close to her heart. Often, she fixates on a person so intensely that she'll let almost nothing stand between them. When someone she cares about is in danger, she's more protective than a mother Ursaring whose cubs are being threatened, and more vicious than an Arbok with a grudge. She hasn't quite crossed the line into psychopathic yet, but back in middle school she was involved in a quickly hushed-up incident featuring her best friend, a boy who had a crush on her best friend, and a stapler. Melody definitely has a manipulative streak, and isn't afraid of using underhanded methods to get what she wants. History: As the only child of a pair of hard-working, fairly wealthy businesspeople, Melody grew up in a frequently empty house in Goldenrod City, with only the maids to keep her company. Because of her parents' jobs (and, on one occasion, that one incident in middle school involving a stapler), she's had to transfer schools many times. As a result, she's never quite been able to form any solid relationships, and always treasured company, prizing friendship above all else… even her morals, at times. Although she wasn't home very often, Melody's mother held manners and the traditionally feminine disciplines in high regard. As a result, Melody grew up to be polite to a fault, and quite skilled in areas such as cooking and cleaning. In fact, since she often had nothing to do but practice cooking, Melody's cooking is actually rather incredible. However, since she never quite figured out how to work the television in the living room or the desktop in her parents' room, Melody is fairly technologically illiterate. Melody has wanted to be a Pokemon trainer since her childhood, primarily for one reason: the legal mandate on travelling in pairs or more. While there is no question about the fact that she likes Pokemon and the thrill of battling, Melody sees her Pokemon journey as her ticket to a "best friend forever"… and that's something that she would never pass up. Because of this, Melody studied hard in every one of the trainer schools that she's attended. As soon as she reached the minimum legal age of obtaining a license, Melody jumped at the chance to become a trainer, and left home the day after her sixteenth birthday. Her parents, unsurprisingly, were on a business trip at the time, but they did call her to wish her farewell... a day or two after she set out for New Bark Town. Quirks/Habits/Other: - Despite her rather fragile appearance, Melody is impressively strong. She doesn't pull her punches, either, so getting into a brawl with her is... not the best of ideas. - Melody is a fantastic cook and a master of all things traditionally feminine, from cooking to cleaning to baby-sitting. - Computers, microwaves, refrigerators... you name it, Melody can break it. She'd probably like video games, but she's never played one before because she can't figure out how to work a PC without completely destroying it. - Melody harbors a secret fondness for cooking shows, animated TV shows and movies, and murder mystery novels. - Melody has a terrible sense of direction. Like, it's really, really bad. Inventory: - Pokeballs (x5) - Burn Heal (x5) - Paralyze Heal (x5) - Sleep Heal (x5) - Antidote (x5) - Potion (x5) - First-aid kit, for minor scrapes and injuries (x1) - Switchblade, for... "cooking and self defense" yeah right (x1) - Full set of clothing (x3) - Cheap and almost indestructible Nokia phone (x1) - Toiletries (x1 bag) - Hairbrush (x1) - Make-up and beauty products (x1 bag) - Agatha Christie's "Five Little Tepigs" (x1) - Sleeping bag, assorted camping equipment (x1) - Wallet, containing $100 (x1) All of these items have been neatly packed into a shiny new white-and-pink backpack. Well, except the switchblade. That's in her pocket. Pokemon: Tesla the Mareep Male Lvl 7 Acquired from Prof. Elm Ability: Static Has a modest nature. Often dozes off. Moves: Tackle, Growl, Thunderwave LOLBAT the Zubat Male Lvl 3 Caught on Route 29 Ability: Inner Focus Has a timid nature. Quick to flee. Moves: Leech Life TL;DR: A girl who, despite her well-mannered and friendly appearance, is actually incredibly clingy and obsessive. In other words, a borderline yandere. Theme Song: Going with pink for her text colour, again. Mostly because of her hair… and so I can transition into red for her scary moments.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Blanchett ~Abigail Blanchett~ "Aww, look at them! They're adorable!" Well, she had to admit to herself. That was kind of adorable. Even the fluffball of a pokemon seemed to be oddly cute in this situation. Still, she made no attempt to acknowledge it. Instead, she focused on Professor Elm. Well, she had everything that she would need for the trip, at least until they got to a Pokemart so they could buy more supplies. Still, she could use a map, and it seemed there were only three left. Hrm...nah, she'd be fine without one. She'd just take one of the others if she had to. Chances were, she was one of the only people here that could read one competently. As Elm continued to talk about them needing to stay together she gave an impatient huff as she reached down and carefully plucked her Nidoran off of the Mareep, making sure to not touch its fur. "Alright little guy. Nap times over." She said, getting a somewhat annoyed response from the pokemon. "Oh shut it." She huffed, cradling the pokemon in her arms again. "Now stay put or I'll put you back in the pokeball, alright?" He seemed to understand that at least, and gave a small huff of annoyance as he rolled his eyes. Soon professor Elm had finished speaking. Well, now that the old man had finished, could they get going? "I think you can do it. Be the best that is. Well, you've kind of got to now that you've said it. I'm Avery, by the way. Glad to meetcha. I'm looking forward to seeing you win." ...what? She actually had to visibly process what he had just said. Did he...completely miss that insult? Was he just dense? Or did he really just not care?...well, either way, he was annoying her. She didn't need some loser encouraging her. She could do just fine at motivating herself without the help of some probably 3rd rate trainer. In response, she simply scoffed. "I'd say I was glad to meet ya too, but It'd be a lie." She replied. "All of you, are my competition. I don't intent to get friendly with any of you. But thanks for the encouragement. I'll make sure to think of you for more than a second when I do win." With that, she walked away from the group, grabbing a few of the repels, and the last map, ignoring the new guy or the fact that Peggy had started to hyperventilate. Might as well get the last one, no one else seemed to keep on getting it and it would always be good to have another.</s> <\|message\|>Alexander "Alex" Elric -Alexander Elric- Well, apparently the problem has solved itself... kinda. The Nidoran and the Mareep were getting along well but it still seemed that miss purple hadnt learned humility, blaming the poor owner of the Houndour for not controlling her Pokemon. And the worst part about it, it seemed like the girl accepted that it was her fault. Alex felt sorry for the girl, she seemed nice and didnt deserve to be treated like this. Maybe he could help her with her Houndour? Meanwhile, another guy had ran in and he had taken the Totodile. The Totodile seemed to think that his new owner looked like a snack and gave a very loving greeting. Well, that's a way to show your affection I guess. The guy then started playing a tune on his music instrument and started singing, it seemed to calm his Totodile down. He, that's a handy option of calming your Pokemon. Alex looked at his Eevee who had decided that it was time to play with the Chikorita, trying to touch the Chikorita's leaf with it's tail. Then Elm spoke up again. And he brought up that there were some supplies left. Alex decided that he would just stick close to someone who had a map and then he would be set. No need to carry aditional stuff anyway. The timid girl started hyperventilating and Blake had run off to help her. Alex reminded himself of how to act around people who hyperventilate. In his experience, the smartest thing to do was to just sit down and foregt everything else. He grabbed a chair and dragged it over to the group with Eevee following him. Here girl, sit on this chair and just take it easy. Without saying anything else Alex took a few steps back, giving her some room. Too many people breathing down her neck would only stress her out more anyway.</s>	<\|message\|>Melody Avery Hemlock ~Melody Hemlock~ Abigail plucked her Nidoran off of Mareep's fur, much to the Nidoran's displeasure. "Alright little guy. Nap times over," said Abigail. "Oh shut it. Now stay put or I'll put you back in the pokeball, alright?" "I think you can do it. Be the best that is. Well, you've kind of got to now that you've said it," said Avery. Melody nodded solemnly. Well, of course Abigail could be! In fact, Melody couldn't even visualize a world where Abigail wasn't the best trainer… not just in the region, either. In the whole universe! And Melody, of course, would be there with her every step of the way. "I'd say I was glad to meet ya too, but it'd be a lie." Abigail replied. "All of you, are my competition. I don't intent to get friendly with any of you. But thanks for the encouragement. I'll make sure to think of you for more than a second when I do win." Wow! Well, she certainly had spirit! Of course, that whole thing about not getting friendly with any of them… well, Melody would see about that. Abigail flounced off, and Melody watched her go for a second. Her hair bounced prettily as she stalked off… .................................................................. ................................................................................................ .................................................................. ...yeah. Even her back was pretty. Melody turned to follow her, but— Wait. Was Peggy was hyperventilating? Melody frowned, somewhat concerned by this. After all… maybe Peggy wasn't her bestest best friend, like Abigail was, but she had decided that she liked the girl, and therefore needed to take care of her. A boy rushed over. "Hey, relax okay? Listen to me. Are you listening? Clear your thoughts, empty your mind. Don't think about anything but to relax," he said. "Look me in the eyes and say after me, 'I am fine'. Once again, 'I am fine'..." And then… oh! Another boy! "Here, girl," said the second boy, pulling up a chair for Peggy. "Sit on this chair and take it easy." Oh. So they had it covered, then. She patted Peggy gently on the shoulder, and gave her a reassuring smile. "Things'll be okay, Peggy!" she told her. "Abigail means well! We'll give you some space, now!" At least, she was pretty sure of that. How could Abigail not have meant well? Surely she'd never try to hurt Peggy on purpose… Peggy was so nice, after all! She glanced over to the supplies on the table. Did she need anything? Maybe one of the repels… oh, and she'd get one for Peggy, too! Abigail seemed to have gotten everything she needed, and there were no maps left, so she didn't worry about that. What about Avery? He didn't seem to have gotten anything… well, there were no other repels, but she'd get him a first aid kit or something? She trotted over to the table, grabbed the remaining repels and a first aid kit, and trotted back. Carefully, she set a repel down by Peggy, and handed the first aid kit to Avery, pocketing the other repel. "Here!" she said. "I got this for you guys. And I hope you feel better soon, Peggy." She turned to the two boys who had rushed over to help Peggy. If they wanted to help Peggy, then they had to be nice, right? "Nice to meet you," she said politely. What? "My name's Melody Hemlock. This—" and here she gestured to Avery, "is Avery, and that's Peggy. And that just now, with the Nidoran, was Abigail!" Melody cuddled her Mareep closer to herself. The boy whose Totodile seemed to have already acquired a taste for human flesh had asked them where they wanted to go, but… well, Melody didn't really have an opinion. If it came to a vote, she'd vote for wherever Melody wanted to go.</s>
<\|description\|>Melody Avery Hemlock Age: 16 Gender: Female Appearance: Standing at about 5'2", Melody's small stature and general lack of presence make fading into the background pretty much a fact of her existence. As a matter of fact, the most eye-catching thing about her is her hair… but even that's mostly because it's bright pink and really, really long. Despite this, the importance of taking care of one's appearance is one of the few things that Melody's mother took the time to drill into her head, and as a result, Melody is exceptionally good at things like doing hair, applying make-up tastefully, and color-coordinating outfits. While she isn't a fashionista by any stretch of the imagination, Melody always looks presentable... even though half the time, no one's really registered her presence well enough to appreciate it. Personality: Melody's a fairly sweet girl most of the time. She's not particularly shy, and really quite talkative, once someone's actually noticed she's there. As a girl brought up in a well-to-do family by parents who placed a high value on manners, Melody is polite to everyone and anyone, even if it's mostly by force of habit. In other words, she's really quite friendly, and for all appearances, harmless. Beneath that well-mannered exterior, however, is an obsessively clingy girl with a grip like a vice and some incredibly possessive tendencies. Melody cherishes her friends… maybe a little too much, actually. Even though she's never really experienced a long-term friendship, the concept of "best friends forever" is one that is very close to her heart. Often, she fixates on a person so intensely that she'll let almost nothing stand between them. When someone she cares about is in danger, she's more protective than a mother Ursaring whose cubs are being threatened, and more vicious than an Arbok with a grudge. She hasn't quite crossed the line into psychopathic yet, but back in middle school she was involved in a quickly hushed-up incident featuring her best friend, a boy who had a crush on her best friend, and a stapler. Melody definitely has a manipulative streak, and isn't afraid of using underhanded methods to get what she wants. History: As the only child of a pair of hard-working, fairly wealthy businesspeople, Melody grew up in a frequently empty house in Goldenrod City, with only the maids to keep her company. Because of her parents' jobs (and, on one occasion, that one incident in middle school involving a stapler), she's had to transfer schools many times. As a result, she's never quite been able to form any solid relationships, and always treasured company, prizing friendship above all else… even her morals, at times. Although she wasn't home very often, Melody's mother held manners and the traditionally feminine disciplines in high regard. As a result, Melody grew up to be polite to a fault, and quite skilled in areas such as cooking and cleaning. In fact, since she often had nothing to do but practice cooking, Melody's cooking is actually rather incredible. However, since she never quite figured out how to work the television in the living room or the desktop in her parents' room, Melody is fairly technologically illiterate. Melody has wanted to be a Pokemon trainer since her childhood, primarily for one reason: the legal mandate on travelling in pairs or more. While there is no question about the fact that she likes Pokemon and the thrill of battling, Melody sees her Pokemon journey as her ticket to a "best friend forever"… and that's something that she would never pass up. Because of this, Melody studied hard in every one of the trainer schools that she's attended. As soon as she reached the minimum legal age of obtaining a license, Melody jumped at the chance to become a trainer, and left home the day after her sixteenth birthday. Her parents, unsurprisingly, were on a business trip at the time, but they did call her to wish her farewell... a day or two after she set out for New Bark Town. Quirks/Habits/Other: - Despite her rather fragile appearance, Melody is impressively strong. She doesn't pull her punches, either, so getting into a brawl with her is... not the best of ideas. - Melody is a fantastic cook and a master of all things traditionally feminine, from cooking to cleaning to baby-sitting. - Computers, microwaves, refrigerators... you name it, Melody can break it. She'd probably like video games, but she's never played one before because she can't figure out how to work a PC without completely destroying it. - Melody harbors a secret fondness for cooking shows, animated TV shows and movies, and murder mystery novels. - Melody has a terrible sense of direction. Like, it's really, really bad. Inventory: - Pokeballs (x5) - Burn Heal (x5) - Paralyze Heal (x5) - Sleep Heal (x5) - Antidote (x5) - Potion (x5) - First-aid kit, for minor scrapes and injuries (x1) - Switchblade, for... "cooking and self defense" yeah right (x1) - Full set of clothing (x3) - Cheap and almost indestructible Nokia phone (x1) - Toiletries (x1 bag) - Hairbrush (x1) - Make-up and beauty products (x1 bag) - Agatha Christie's "Five Little Tepigs" (x1) - Sleeping bag, assorted camping equipment (x1) - Wallet, containing $100 (x1) All of these items have been neatly packed into a shiny new white-and-pink backpack. Well, except the switchblade. That's in her pocket. Pokemon: Tesla the Mareep Male Lvl 7 Acquired from Prof. Elm Ability: Static Has a modest nature. Often dozes off. Moves: Tackle, Growl, Thunderwave LOLBAT the Zubat Male Lvl 3 Caught on Route 29 Ability: Inner Focus Has a timid nature. Quick to flee. Moves: Leech Life TL;DR: A girl who, despite her well-mannered and friendly appearance, is actually incredibly clingy and obsessive. In other words, a borderline yandere. Theme Song: Going with pink for her text colour, again. Mostly because of her hair… and so I can transition into red for her scary moments.</s> <\|message\|>Avery Garfield Grant ~Avery Grant~ Avery was imagining all of the glorious victories the girl might have along her journey, getting even more excited with each one. Again, he missed her slight again, coming back to reality about the time she said she'd think of him. Avery smiled. Friends thought of each other often. They must be friends, then. Logic like that was rock-solid. Then something happened. Uhhhhhhhhh… Brain, any idea what's going on? No? Didn't think so. The little chick beside him, well, started breathing. Normally a good thing, or so Lung would have Avery believe. But she was breathing hard. And fast. Like he had when he went swimming and tried to touch the bottom of the lake, but ran out of air and struggled to the surface. He couldn't get enough of the stuff. Did Peggy get lost in her imagination, and now thought she was drowning? Oh no. People could die from that, right? From overactive imaginations? Well, that wouldn't do. Avery didn't know how he'd survive in the wilderness without the Survivalist. So he made up his mind. He would get her the air she needed. CPR. That helped, right? Avery drew in a ton of air, and was about to attempt to administer, when the Cool-Hat dude rushed over and started trying to talk down Peggy. He made some good points. If you emptied your head, you'd empty your imagination. If you emptied your imagination, you wouldn't be drowning anymore. Silly Peggy. But maybe he should still try to- Before he could attempt his life-saving maneuver, the wee-one came bearing a chair, telling Peggy to sit. That should do the trick. Silly Peggy, you can't drown if you're sitting down. It's Science. Then Melody shoved a first-aid kit in Avery's hands. Did Peggy need some serious surgery? Well… Avery had never operated on a person before, but when life hands you scalpels, make itty-bitty cuts. He had seen it down plenty of times on TV. He'd just need to make a cut on her stomach large enough for his hand. Then he'd reach in and cut a few more...uh...things, and she'd be better. Being a doctor wasn't that hard. Maybe Avery would do that for a living? OH! But the task at hand. Avery began trying to open the kit, but Peggy seemed to come back down from her cloud. Well then. Welcome back to civilization, Pegs. Avery stopped fiddling with the kit, albeit slightly disappointed. Who knows, though? Maybe he'd have a chance to be Top Doc at a later point in time. He sure hoped so. Although he didn't want anyone to get hurt. Somehow, the two wants did not collide in friction in Avery's simple mind. Melody called his name, and Avery, having zoned out once more, came back to reality with a hearty "Heya heya!" Avery smiled, prior crisis almost completely gone from his consciousness. Ignorance was bliss.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Blanchett ~Professor Elm/Alfred Elm~ It was nice, seeing all the trainers getting along. More or less - it seemed one of them had a brief panic attack, but the others had managed to calm her down. They had just started, and they were already helping each other! He couldn't have asked for a better outcome of this. Well, most of the trainers were getting along anyways. One of the girls seemed to have a bit of a superiority complex. He had seen trainers like her before, and most of the time...well, it didn't end well. Hopefully, she learned her lesson before something bad happened. Well, whatever happens, now was time for wishing all of them well, and getting them out of New Bark and out on the road. "Alright everyone!" Professor Elm said again, to get their attention. "It's been a pleasure making all of your acquaintances! Now though, its time all of you got going." "Um, professor? What about their licences?" Alfred quietly asked, holding a stack of the item in question. There seemed to be one for each of the trainers gathered here. "Oh, right! Sorry, I almost forgot. Alfred, if you could pass them out please." With a nod, he got up from his seat and started handing the licenses to the trainers. This took a minute or so, to figure out who everyone was but soon enough it was done and each trainer had a shiny new Trainer Card to carry around and show that they were legally licensed trainers. It had their age, name, hometown and emergency contact info on it in case of well, emergencies. "Make sure you keep up with those. They are very important if the Police decide to make sure you are a legal trainer." Now that that was taken care of, then they could get going. "I apologize for the last second hold up! But now that everything is done, young trainers, the world of pokemon now awaits you! You'll face many challenges - especially if you decide to challenge the Gyms, but I'm certain that all of you will do great things. Now, enough of me rambling like the old man I am." he laughed. "Now, your first stop would be Route 29, just east of New Bark. Some of you came through there on your way in. It'll probably take you a day on foot to reach Cherry Grove, but I'm certain all of you will make it. Now, be careful out there and have a fun journey!" ~Abigail Blanchett~ After being handed her card, Abigail pocketed it without giving it so much as another glance. Well, if the old man was finished with them, then she saw no reason to stay here. She was slightly curious about the egg in the machine in the back, but didn't bother asking. Instead, she grabbed her bag, slung it over her shoulder and with her Nidoran still in her arms, she headed right for the Lab's door. She had no desire to stay here any longer. With any luck, this time tomorrow they'd be in Cherry Grove, and she'd be on her way to becoming a strong trainer.</s>	<\|message\|>Melody Avery Hemlock ~Melody Hemlock~ Oh— so they were going to Cherrygrove, then? Or, at least… Professor Elm wanted them to go to Cherrygrove? Melody hummed. Well, that seemed like a pretty logical first destination! She wondered if she'd be able to find a Pidgey on Route 29. Okay, so maybe they were kind of common, but… they were cute, okay? She'd always liked cute Pokemon. And she already had a name picked out! If her Pidgey was a boy, she'd name him... uh… Bird Jesus? Private Brian? Stanley! Stanley-Joe! And if it was a girl… well, Stanley-Joe was a pretty name for a girl, too! Right? She'd chosen the name after… well, after nothing, actually. She'd just made it up. Call it divine inspiration? She had bumped into a few of those weird Helix cultists on the way to the lab. So she'd just introduced herself to the two who'd come over to help out Peggy, but—wait. Was Abigail leaving? Uh-oh. She was getting left behind! And Melody definitely couldn't let her best friend wander off alone! For one thing, they were supposed to all stay together, right? For another… well, Melody had just found her best friend! She didn't want to get separated already! She shot an apologetic smile at Peggy and the two boys. "Sorry, gotta go!" she blurted out in a rush. "Peggy, the repel on the floor is for you. I'm going to go catch up to Abigail. You guys hurry, okay? Bye!" Melody hurried over to the professor's assistant, took her card, and then jogged after Abigail. Okay, so maybe it wasn't jogging… Melody's parents had raised her to be a proper young lady (sort of), after all! She walked briskly after Abigail, managing to catch her just before she exited the door. Mareep was starting to feel kind of heavy, but Melody had always been pretty strong: she could deal with it! And she rather liked having Mareep out. "Abigail, wait up!" she said, smiling. "Aren't you excited? Our Pokemon journeys are starting, and you're on your way to being the best trainer in the region, huh? I'm going to challenge the gyms too. I mean, I probably won't be as good as you, but I'll do my best." After all, she had to, didn't she? To prove to Abigail that she was worthy of her? Mareep made a snuffling sound in his sleep, and Melody giggled. "Mareep's gonna help me, too. We're going to be an awesome team, just you wait!"</s>
<\|description\|>Ryley Grisdoe Age: 18 Gender: Male Appearance: Ryley falls around the height of 5'8''. He normally has a serious look on his face, but he doesn't really realize it, and it changes fairly easily. His hair often gets messy, despite his attempts at combing/brushing/whatevering. He prefers to wear a lighter t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Y'know, the 'usual'. He doesn't really care about appearance that much though, and prefers comfortable, practical clothes. Personality: Ryley is a very 'down to earth' type of guy. He can come off as sarcastic sometimes due to this. He won't run away from the truth of things, even when things are rough. However, he'll do what he can to change the 'truth' of matters if he doesn't like it. Also, just because he faces the truth doesn't mean he won't lie. Ryley respects others' opinions and ideas, as most of them have a good reason or cause behind them. Due to this, many people find him to be friendly. However, he tends to avoid people with ideas he doesn't agree with, if possible. This may seem rude, but Ryley doesn't want to argue others with strong beliefs, as he believes no one wins in those cases. Ryley enjoys the company of others, though he's not that good at small talk. He's better at having deep discussions. He may throw in a quick quip here or there in normal conversations, but overall he prefers to listen. History: Ryley grew up in Unova. More specifically, Opelucid City (W/W2 version). His mother died only 6 months after he was born, so he grew up alone with his father. His father worked as an assistant to the town's gym leader, Drayden. Due to this, Ryley learned a lot about dragon types, especially the legendary duo Reshiram and Zekrom. The idea of truth and ideals fighting always interested him, though it was slightly confusing. When he was 9 years old, his dad got laid off due to less trainers battling. He couldn't find another job in the city, so they had to move from home sweet home. They ended up moving to Violet City, where his dad got a job maintaining Sprout Tower. Though the lore of Opelucid was great, the history of Sprout Tower, combined with the nearby Ruins of Alph managed to sate Ryley's curiosity. Eventually, the wild pokemon's aggressiveness became so bad that Ryley couldn't travel to the Ruins alone. He became fairly agitated due to this, and wanted to do something. He tried asking questions around town, and soon found out that the wild pokemon everywhere were being more aggressive, but nobody knew exactly why. He decided he'd try to find out the source of the problem, and solve it. He got his dad's approval fairly easily and signed up for a license. With equipment in hand, he headed out. Quirks/Habits/Other: -Likes to learn about lore and history of various things -Doesn't have much of a taste. He often goes with whatever is healthiest, or he's in the mood for. -Loves the feeling of when a good plan succeeds. -Doesn't really realize it, but he's good at predicting what someone is about to do based on their movement and changes in pattern. Inventory: - Pokeballs x5 - Burn Heal x5 - Paralyze Heal x5 - Sleep Heal x5 - Antidote x5 - Potion x5 - Two extra sets of clothes - Old X-transceiver (acts mostly as a phone) - Camping gear - Notebook and 3 pens - $100 - A black backpack to carry everything in Pokemon: None TL;DR: Morally stable, and mentally strong. Fairly social person. Often serious and very curious. His color is yellow</s> <\|message\|>Alexander "Alex" Elric -Alexander Elric- Alexander just came out of the Pokemon pens. He had just given them their final meal for the day. He had been working on those meals for the last three hours and he was dead tired. He always did his best for the poor beasts, even if it might not make a difference to them on the long term. He locked the door and walked several paces. Then there was the sound of something breaking, quickly followed by alot of commotion from the Pokemon. At first Alexander didnt care too much, probably a broken plate or something, one of the Pokemon must have stepped on something and caused this. It'll calm down in a moment... He was about to walk back home when he heard something which sounded an awefull lot like a fight. What was going on in there? Ooh crap, did he accidentily open one of the cages? Ooh no, his uncle is gonna kill him if one of his Pokemon gets injured... Ooh crap, ooh crap... He quickly turned around and tried to open the door but it wouldnt open. Why no- Ooh right! He pulled his keys out of his pocket. In his hurry he didnt see what key he was using. Apparently it was the wrong one. Well maybe this one wa- And ofcourse he drops the keys. Damn, damn... He picked up the keys and now got the correct one and opened the door. All the Pokemon were jumping up and down in their cages, they all had very clear scars of battle. These were no ordinary Pokemon, they were used in illegal fights which were arranged by some associates of his uncle. All of them had seen their fair share of battle and vicious beasts. Alexander's eyes quickly scanned the pens and it didnt take long before he spotted what caused the commotion. The roof of the building was made out of glass and apparently a Zigzagoon had accidentily broken it. It had fallen in another pen and... Ooh no! Why couldnt it have fallen in the pen of the Furret! Instead it fallen in the pen of the Mightyena and it didnt look that happy with it's new visitor. Honestly, at first Alexander was relieved. The Zigzagoon would not be able to really harm the Mightyena so Alex want in trouble. He was about to turn around and walk out when the Zigzagoon's pleas for help reached his ear. It was hartbreaking for Alex... He couldnt let the small animal be torn to shreds by the Mightyena, he just couldnt! But, what about his uncle... Again the plea for help sounded. Screw his uncle! Screw the rest! This was much more important! He rushed over to the pen and opened it. The Mightyena didnt notice and was too fixated on the poor little Zigzagoon. Just as it was preparing to pounce Alexander rushed in to shield the Zigzagoon with his back. The Mightyena didnt care that this young boy was in the way, he would just attack both of them. It pounced at them and his claw scratched ove- Alright we're here! New Bark Town! Any passengers who need to be here need to leave the bus now! Alexander jumped up, startled by the loud voice of the bus diver. A drip of sweat was running down his forehead. A dream... It was just a dream... He got up, grabbed his backpack and as he was walking out of the bus he was rubbing his hand over his back and started mumbling. It was just a dream Alex... Toughen up already! He slapped himself across the cheek as the bus was just departing. It's been two years and it's still haunting him... Snap out of it! He ran his hands through his hair as he was taking a deep breath. What was he doing again? Ooh right, he was getting himself his first Pokemon! Well, atleast that was something to look forward to. Yes, he should look forward and not look back to the past! Now all he had to do was go to the Pokemon lab and get his own Pokemon! But... Wait, where is the lab again? Ooh no problem, he'll just look again on his map which was in his suitcase. Now, where did he leave his suitcase? Last time he saw it it was laying nicely packed in the back of the... bus. He looked back and just saw the bus going over a hill... a quarter mile away. Really? Really!? Dammit! Out of frustration he kicked at the busstop sign... In hindsight not a good idea. How am I now going to get to the lab... Apparently there was no other way. He had to take drastic measures. It pained him to do this but he had no choice. He walked up to the nearest person he could find and... Asked directions.</s> <\|message\|>Avery Garfield Grant ~Avery Grant~ Elm sure was taking his sweet time. Avery knew that the guy got distracted by his work pretty easily, heck it was one of things that he admired about the man, but usually Alfy or someone would be alert enough to hear a visitor. Or… Or was the Professor onto something big? Like, MEGA big? A breakthrough that would revolutionize the PokeWorld?!! It had to be! Avery was grinning like an idiot, wanting to knock the door down and see for himself. He had just grabbed the door when something hit him. "Err, hey!" A sound. A voice? A sentence. A person. A witness! OH DEAR ARCEUS, BUSTED. "Err, are, you, err…." Avery quickly spun around, hands shooting behind his head. He held the back of his neck, arms up and elbows out. A guilty grin was plastered on his face. It was Elm. It had to be Elm. Elm was going to scold him for entering without permission. It wasn't Elm. It wasn't anyone. Huh. Weird. A soft breeze floated by, sweeping Avery's hair from his face. And a bush had decided to fly, apparently. Wait. No. Not a bush. Hair. Hair? Then he noticed her. It was someone. She was, well, quite small. Bushy pigtails, green hat, tensed shoulders. Avery blinked. Who was she? Where'd she come from? Wow, she was small. He didn't usually have people looking up to him. Did he? Alfy, but he didn't count, he was just a kid. Was this girl a kid? Was she lost? She was probably lost. Avery was about to ask, but the girl repeated herself. "Err...are you, err…?" Err? She kept saying Err. Did she think he was this 'Err'? Avery knew most of the people around these parts, but he hadn't met Err. Maybe Err was a friend of hers. Maybe Err was her dad. OF COURSE! This little girl was looking for her father named Err. And she had mistaken Avery for him. It made sense. Although...did Err look a lot like Avery? Maybe she was blind, or just very upset. Avery understood. His thoughts got all tangled up when he was upset or angry. So he didn't do that anymore. Better to keep his wits sharp. "You here for, err...you know?" Then the girl pointed to the lab. And Avery felt silly. It made even more sense. She wasn't a lost child who thought he was her father. She was here to see Professor Elm. So she wasn't a little kid. Probably closer to his age. Except...she thought his name was Err, and thought that Err was Avery. Avery smiled softly at the poor, confused girl. He laughed kindly. "No, I'm not Err. He's inside. I think. Although it's pronounced 'Elm'. He's a pretty cool guy. I guess if you're here to see Elm, you're here for a Pokemon? Same here." Avery stuck out his hand for the chica. "I'm Avery, your new friend. Nice to meetcha."</s>	<\|message\|>Ryley Grisdoe A day like today 10 years ago would be one where kids would be playing outside, having a fun time with others and possibly the wild pokemon. It only took one glance to see that it wasn't the same. It felt… empty, for a lack of better words. As this thought appeared, a small sigh penetrated the emptiness of the small town. Well, today was the beginning of trying to change that. Ryley turned his gaze towards the lab. There he would start his life as a pokemon trainer, all of the risks and rewards entailed. It was odd trying to describe his feelings at the moment. The closest he could manage was a mixture of fear and excitement. Fear over the possibility of injury, the unknown adversaries he would meet, and worst of all, the possibility that the truth he's looking for was something far worse than he expected. However, the excitement of receiving a pokemon, meeting new friends, and the future of journeying slightly outweighed the fears he held. Ryley shifted his position slightly on the tiles. He had arrived early with the help of a guide, however he had arrived a bit too early. With nothing better to do, he climbed onto the roof of a house, lay down, and basked in the sun. The owners of the house seemed to be out, so he felt as though he wasn't intruding. In any case, it seemed as though some people were gathering at the lab. It must have been time. As Ryley got up from his prone position, he realized he had made one mistake. The trip up had taken a bit of climbing, but the way down would be much, much harder. Ironically, in many cases it was the other way around. The irony didn't help. "Shit…" A bit of forethought would be wonderful next time. Well, he needed to get down, and the easiest answer seemed to be the way to go. Launch initiating in T-minus 5. 4. 3. 2. 1. Thump. Launch failed. As Ryley got up off the ground, thankful he hadn't broken anything based on his initial inspection, his first thought was how incredibly stupid he felt. His second was hoping nobody had seen that. He had jumped from the southern side of the house, so no one from the lab should have seen anything. But still… Shaking his head, Ryley headed around the house towards the lab, and the people that surrounded the entrance. An introduction would be customary here, but thing is, it felt awkward to do so. He would be directing it at everyone, but everyone seemed to be occupied. It would only serve to make him the center of attraction, or he'd just be ignored outright. Ryley decided to stealthily join the outskirts of the group, waving his hand in a non-verbal introduction. There! Two birds with one stone. Now all he had to do was wait for more people to arrive, and/or be let in.</s>
<\|description\|>Ryley Grisdoe Age: 18 Gender: Male Appearance: Ryley falls around the height of 5'8''. He normally has a serious look on his face, but he doesn't really realize it, and it changes fairly easily. His hair often gets messy, despite his attempts at combing/brushing/whatevering. He prefers to wear a lighter t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Y'know, the 'usual'. He doesn't really care about appearance that much though, and prefers comfortable, practical clothes. Personality: Ryley is a very 'down to earth' type of guy. He can come off as sarcastic sometimes due to this. He won't run away from the truth of things, even when things are rough. However, he'll do what he can to change the 'truth' of matters if he doesn't like it. Also, just because he faces the truth doesn't mean he won't lie. Ryley respects others' opinions and ideas, as most of them have a good reason or cause behind them. Due to this, many people find him to be friendly. However, he tends to avoid people with ideas he doesn't agree with, if possible. This may seem rude, but Ryley doesn't want to argue others with strong beliefs, as he believes no one wins in those cases. Ryley enjoys the company of others, though he's not that good at small talk. He's better at having deep discussions. He may throw in a quick quip here or there in normal conversations, but overall he prefers to listen. History: Ryley grew up in Unova. More specifically, Opelucid City (W/W2 version). His mother died only 6 months after he was born, so he grew up alone with his father. His father worked as an assistant to the town's gym leader, Drayden. Due to this, Ryley learned a lot about dragon types, especially the legendary duo Reshiram and Zekrom. The idea of truth and ideals fighting always interested him, though it was slightly confusing. When he was 9 years old, his dad got laid off due to less trainers battling. He couldn't find another job in the city, so they had to move from home sweet home. They ended up moving to Violet City, where his dad got a job maintaining Sprout Tower. Though the lore of Opelucid was great, the history of Sprout Tower, combined with the nearby Ruins of Alph managed to sate Ryley's curiosity. Eventually, the wild pokemon's aggressiveness became so bad that Ryley couldn't travel to the Ruins alone. He became fairly agitated due to this, and wanted to do something. He tried asking questions around town, and soon found out that the wild pokemon everywhere were being more aggressive, but nobody knew exactly why. He decided he'd try to find out the source of the problem, and solve it. He got his dad's approval fairly easily and signed up for a license. With equipment in hand, he headed out. Quirks/Habits/Other: -Likes to learn about lore and history of various things -Doesn't have much of a taste. He often goes with whatever is healthiest, or he's in the mood for. -Loves the feeling of when a good plan succeeds. -Doesn't really realize it, but he's good at predicting what someone is about to do based on their movement and changes in pattern. Inventory: - Pokeballs x5 - Burn Heal x5 - Paralyze Heal x5 - Sleep Heal x5 - Antidote x5 - Potion x5 - Two extra sets of clothes - Old X-transceiver (acts mostly as a phone) - Camping gear - Notebook and 3 pens - $100 - A black backpack to carry everything in Pokemon: None TL;DR: Morally stable, and mentally strong. Fairly social person. Often serious and very curious. His color is yellow</s> <\|message\|>Peggy Atkinson - Peggy Atkinson - As Melody's Mareep let out a Thunderwave, Houndour was caught in the attack and paralyzed, not moving for a long time as it lay on the ground, and Peggy worried for a moment it was dead. She made a move to check on the little dog Pokemon, only for Houndour to raise its head and give Peggy a little growl. Well, it probably wasn't too injured then if it could afford to be grumpy with her. It was then that the Nidoran's trainer, a purple-haired girl, walked over to them. "Well that's what you get, you little fauteur de troubles," she said, scolding her Nidoran. "Oh, don't do that with me. You're just trying to be manipulative. Behave and I'll get you a paralyze heal." The purple-haired girl then turned to Peggy. "Hmph. You should keep that mutt of yours on a leash," she scoffed, looking annoyed. "That mutt could have seriously hurt Melody here." Peggy looked down at her feet, ashamed. "S-sorry," she muttered. "I re-really am. A-and I'm sure Houndour is sorry too." As if in response, Houndour, getting up to its feet, gave a snarl in Abigail's direction before marching, or rather stumbling, over to Peggy's side, showing as clear as day that it wasn't one bit sorry. Seeing this, Peggy sighed. "I think someone should be returned to their Pokeball," she muttered, and quickly got out the Pokeball and returned the dog to its Pokeball before placing it in her pocket. After a little conversation between purple-haired girl and Melody, as well as purple-haired girl's Nidoran seemingly apologising to Tesla - why couldn't Houndour be that nice? - Melody introduced purple-haired girl, who was apparently her friend, to Peggy and Avery. "Um, Abigail, this is Avery and Peggy," Melody said. "Avery, Peggy— this is Abigail!" Peggy gave a low nod of greeting to Abigail, so low that it was practically a bow. "H-hi," she said shyly. "And again, I'm really, really s-sorry."</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Blanchett ~Abigail Blanchett~ At Tesla offered Nidoran the pokeblock, the pokemon scooped it up his mouth and swallowed the rest of it whole. Well, it seemed like he wasn't going to cause any more trouble for now at least. With that done, she scooped up the Nidoran in her arms again, allowing him to lay on her shoulder as he still looked down at the Mareep as he eyed that comfortable looking wool of Tesla's. "I think that means Tesla forgives him, That's really cute." Well, that was one word for it. Nidoran was certainly cute, but that fluffball? Eh, well she could think of a few adjectives for it. At least the timid girl apologized. It'd have been a bit more interesting if she hadn't, but oh well. The girl was a pushover then. She wouldn't last long at all in the gym challenges, if she even had the guts to take one. "Um, Abigail, this is Avery and Peggy. Avery, Peggy— this is Abigail!" Someone was getting awfully close. She took a inched away from Melody, folding her arms across her chest as Melody introduced her to the two of them. Hmph. She could introduced herself. "H-hi, And again, I'm really, really s-sorry." She gave Peggy a not so friendly look, as if barely even acknowledging the other girls presence. "Tch. I can introduce myself." She gruffly said in response. However, soon her face turned into that of a confident grin as she spoke. "Abigail Blanchett!" She proudly stated rather loudly. "Remember it you two. I'm gonna be the best trainer in the region!" Hell, she was aiming for the best trainer in all the regions, but if anything she's learned over the years, you've gotta start off small. "And you losers," She continued, giving Avery and Peggy both a smug look as her grin was replaced with a smirk. "Better not slow me down or I'll have my Nidoran here thoroughly thrash you." At hearing its name called, the Nidoran shot a look over to the other two trainers, eyeing them a bit curiously. What was going through its head, was anybody's guess but its attention soon returned to Tesla and his wool. Without another word of warning, he jumped right off of her shoulder, and launched himself right on top of Tesla's wool. "Nidoran!" She called out. Obviously this little guy was going to be more than a bit of a handful. She had half a mind to scold him, but he didn't seem to be doing anything in particular...in fact, he looked downright sleepy as he found a comfortable spot on the Mareeps wool, completely oblivious to the static on it. "Ah, it's so nice to see everyone getting along." Professor Elm said with a quiet chuckle as he watched the trainers, eyeing Abigial's group in particular. "More or less." So lively and eager. It seemed that was something that couldn't be washed away just with age after all. However, now was the time to get them on the road. After all, they couldn't just sit here for the rest of the time. While the trainers continued to converse among themselves, he moved towards the other table, the one with a few maps and such on it. "Okay, if I could just have everyone's attention!" Professor Elm said as loudly as he could above the trainers. He gave them a few minutes to quiet down and turn their attention back to him. "I am glad to see all of you are getting along with your new partner, and with each other." He gave all of them a friendly smile. "On this table, I have a few supplies I'd like to give all of you. I have a few maps of the Johto region, repels, and even a few medical kits for you. I couldn't buy much, so you'll have to share with everyone else and use your supplies wisely." He continued, suddenly becoming serious. "On that note, I would like to remind everyone to stay together. As beginner trainers, all of you are quite inexperienced. Please, take care of each other and watch each others backs out there. If anything happened to any of you..." Professor Elm sighed, as though it wasn't the first time he had given this speech, and the not the first time something bad had happened. "Ah, anyways - I'm going off on a tangent again! Please, take these supplies! Its not much, but I'll do what I can for all of you." * Johto Region Map (x3) * Repels (x5) * First aid kit (x2)</s>	<\|message\|>Ryley Grisdoe Ryley glanced at Fern to see how she was doing. She was standing by his side, and seemed to be content with listening. He turned his attention back to the boy as he introduced himself. "Hey, the name's Alexander Elric, but just call me Alex, it's much easier. And here, take these." As Alex finished introducing himself, he handed Blake's Swinub and Fern a couple of pokeblocks. That was really nice of him. Ryley hadn't intended to ask for one, but his introduction must have sounded like it. Well, can't change the past. It'd be rude to look a gift-ponyta in the mouth, so he gladly accepted the gift. Fern did too, as she savored the flavor of the sweet treat. "Thanks!" Ryley was about to continue when he heard something a bit odd. Was… Was that someone singing? He turned his head and found the source to be a newcomer. So this must be the eighth trainer. He seemed to be a nice guy, though Ryley's judgement may have been based on the melodious voice more than the person. Ryley noted his choice of starter, a totodile. Big biters, as he recalled. Before he could continue his train of thought, he was interrupted once again, but this time by Professor Elm. Ryley watched as the professor set out a few supplies for their journey, and welcomed them to use them. One of the professor's last lines caught Ryley's attention. "If anything happened to any of you…" A reminder of the danger being a trainer entailed. A reminder of why he was becoming a trainer in the first place. Ryley turned towards Alex and Blake, gave a short nod, and headed towards the table to grab one of the first aid kits. Fern's abilities could help make the medicines inside a bit stronger, so it seemed like a smart choice to carry one of the kits. Once the kit had been obtained, he headed back to Alex and Blake.</s>
<\|description\|>Ryley Grisdoe Age: 18 Gender: Male Appearance: Ryley falls around the height of 5'8''. He normally has a serious look on his face, but he doesn't really realize it, and it changes fairly easily. His hair often gets messy, despite his attempts at combing/brushing/whatevering. He prefers to wear a lighter t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Y'know, the 'usual'. He doesn't really care about appearance that much though, and prefers comfortable, practical clothes. Personality: Ryley is a very 'down to earth' type of guy. He can come off as sarcastic sometimes due to this. He won't run away from the truth of things, even when things are rough. However, he'll do what he can to change the 'truth' of matters if he doesn't like it. Also, just because he faces the truth doesn't mean he won't lie. Ryley respects others' opinions and ideas, as most of them have a good reason or cause behind them. Due to this, many people find him to be friendly. However, he tends to avoid people with ideas he doesn't agree with, if possible. This may seem rude, but Ryley doesn't want to argue others with strong beliefs, as he believes no one wins in those cases. Ryley enjoys the company of others, though he's not that good at small talk. He's better at having deep discussions. He may throw in a quick quip here or there in normal conversations, but overall he prefers to listen. History: Ryley grew up in Unova. More specifically, Opelucid City (W/W2 version). His mother died only 6 months after he was born, so he grew up alone with his father. His father worked as an assistant to the town's gym leader, Drayden. Due to this, Ryley learned a lot about dragon types, especially the legendary duo Reshiram and Zekrom. The idea of truth and ideals fighting always interested him, though it was slightly confusing. When he was 9 years old, his dad got laid off due to less trainers battling. He couldn't find another job in the city, so they had to move from home sweet home. They ended up moving to Violet City, where his dad got a job maintaining Sprout Tower. Though the lore of Opelucid was great, the history of Sprout Tower, combined with the nearby Ruins of Alph managed to sate Ryley's curiosity. Eventually, the wild pokemon's aggressiveness became so bad that Ryley couldn't travel to the Ruins alone. He became fairly agitated due to this, and wanted to do something. He tried asking questions around town, and soon found out that the wild pokemon everywhere were being more aggressive, but nobody knew exactly why. He decided he'd try to find out the source of the problem, and solve it. He got his dad's approval fairly easily and signed up for a license. With equipment in hand, he headed out. Quirks/Habits/Other: -Likes to learn about lore and history of various things -Doesn't have much of a taste. He often goes with whatever is healthiest, or he's in the mood for. -Loves the feeling of when a good plan succeeds. -Doesn't really realize it, but he's good at predicting what someone is about to do based on their movement and changes in pattern. Inventory: - Pokeballs x5 - Burn Heal x5 - Paralyze Heal x5 - Sleep Heal x5 - Antidote x5 - Potion x5 - Two extra sets of clothes - Old X-transceiver (acts mostly as a phone) - Camping gear - Notebook and 3 pens - $100 - A black backpack to carry everything in Pokemon: None TL;DR: Morally stable, and mentally strong. Fairly social person. Often serious and very curious. His color is yellow</s> <\|message\|>Melody Avery Hemlock ~Melody Hemlock~ Oh— so they were going to Cherrygrove, then? Or, at least… Professor Elm wanted them to go to Cherrygrove? Melody hummed. Well, that seemed like a pretty logical first destination! She wondered if she'd be able to find a Pidgey on Route 29. Okay, so maybe they were kind of common, but… they were cute, okay? She'd always liked cute Pokemon. And she already had a name picked out! If her Pidgey was a boy, she'd name him... uh… Bird Jesus? Private Brian? Stanley! Stanley-Joe! And if it was a girl… well, Stanley-Joe was a pretty name for a girl, too! Right? She'd chosen the name after… well, after nothing, actually. She'd just made it up. Call it divine inspiration? She had bumped into a few of those weird Helix cultists on the way to the lab. So she'd just introduced herself to the two who'd come over to help out Peggy, but—wait. Was Abigail leaving? Uh-oh. She was getting left behind! And Melody definitely couldn't let her best friend wander off alone! For one thing, they were supposed to all stay together, right? For another… well, Melody had just found her best friend! She didn't want to get separated already! She shot an apologetic smile at Peggy and the two boys. "Sorry, gotta go!" she blurted out in a rush. "Peggy, the repel on the floor is for you. I'm going to go catch up to Abigail. You guys hurry, okay? Bye!" Melody hurried over to the professor's assistant, took her card, and then jogged after Abigail. Okay, so maybe it wasn't jogging… Melody's parents had raised her to be a proper young lady (sort of), after all! She walked briskly after Abigail, managing to catch her just before she exited the door. Mareep was starting to feel kind of heavy, but Melody had always been pretty strong: she could deal with it! And she rather liked having Mareep out. "Abigail, wait up!" she said, smiling. "Aren't you excited? Our Pokemon journeys are starting, and you're on your way to being the best trainer in the region, huh? I'm going to challenge the gyms too. I mean, I probably won't be as good as you, but I'll do my best." After all, she had to, didn't she? To prove to Abigail that she was worthy of her? Mareep made a snuffling sound in his sleep, and Melody giggled. "Mareep's gonna help me, too. We're going to be an awesome team, just you wait!"</s> <\|message\|>Avery Garfield Grant ~Avery Grant~ As Avery was waiting for the scene around him to unfold, his anchor once more belted out wise words of guidance. Once more, the young lad shed all outside distractions and focused on Elm. Despite being rather unfocused, the boy could focus. Apparently he was attempting to send everyone on their way...but good reliable Alfie stopped him. They needed licenses. Why? Well...Avery didn't know, but Alfie and Elm seemed to say so, and they knew more about this than he did. Haha, what would he do without them? ...Well, he would probably have to find out pretty soon... "Make sure you keep up with those. They are very important if the Police decide to make sure you are a legal trainer." Legal trainer? What was an illegal trainer? Well, it probably didn't matter. He was getting a card that meant he wouldn't have to care. Abigail and Melody had both already claimed their licenses. Peggy and the others seemed a bit...preoccupied, so Avery went over to the Elms old and young. He smiled bright, teeth flashing white. He stopped before Alfie who held out his card. The kid was still acting timid. No fun. Here Avery was, likely going away for who knows how long, and he couldn't even look him in his eyes. Hell, Avery knew the boy for as long as he'd been in the town. Avery considered him a friend. A close friend. ...his only friend. Avery scooped the kid up by the waist and spun, laughing again. "Going away now, Alfie. But I'll be back. With a bunch of friends. Friends like Blue. So, don't forget about me, yeah?" He sat the kid back down, swiping his card from the ones in his hand and turning away from the Elms. His head hung low, and his hair lower, obscuring his eyes. Don't. Not yet. Just...don't. He walked silently to the door, tracing the floor with his gaze. He walked with purpose, with speed. Not running but… He caught up with the two girls, but took no notice. He left the lab, hearing Elm begin to speak, but took no notice. He entered the sunlight once more, and around him the small little town was moving about its day. But he took no notice. He simply walked. Fleeing. After some time, he made it to the edge of town. Beyond him would be Route 29. The first leg of his journey would begin here. A moment that should be incredibly happy. But there he stood, tears streaming down his face, tears he had managed to hold since the lab. Nobody should have seen him, but he didn't know for sure. It was different from when he met Blue. He wasn't bursting with joy. His tears weren't warm. They stung. It was...so bitter. He had been so excited about this, so happy to start but now… It hurt... It hurt. It-hurt. IT-HURT! He wished he had never listened to those whispers, that nagging inner voice that urged him to pick up the mantle. If he hadn't, he would have to leave, to say goodbye to the town he had lived his entire life in, the people he had come to know and love… But there was no turning back. Not after the weeks he had spent hyped up about it. Not after the bold claims he had made to his parents, to Elm… To Alfie. He stood, facing the end of his life as he knew it. He stood, facing the beginning of one brand new. A few more tears shed from Avery's eyes, but they ended. He rolled down his left sleeve then wiped his face, clearing the tears. His eyes were still red, but at least the crying had passed and his face was dry. He couldn't let the others see him like this. Tears were one thing, pain was another. So Avery stood, composing himself, trying to escape into one of his fantasies, but to no avail. His mind was flooded with memories. But somehow, he managed to keep it together. He didn't turn, didn't give one last look at the town. He knew he couldn't. To look now was to lose every last bit of nerve he had left. He couldn't leave yet, either. He had to wait on the others. So he did. Unmoving, unthinking, unfeeling. Comfortably numb. Painfully numb. He waited, dead to the world. The sooner they left, the sooner he would be okie-dokie. He activated his PokeGear, switching over to the radio, and some classical piece floated out of the machine. A soft, calming melody. Avery lost a chuckle to a thought. If that stupid interview had still been going on, he might have lost it. The young man waited, cloaked in music. But a sharp notion crept into his mind. An unnerving one. One that almost put him back into his sorry state. Avery shuddered. Heart and Brain followed suit. The thought...it was so clear. So real. It was like… Like... A premonition. And he knew it to be true, that fear. He didn't know why, but he did. It shook him to his very core. This would be his first and last time leaving the town. For he would never see New Bark Town again. ... But he smiled.</s>	<\|message\|>Ryley Grisdoe Ryley had been expecting a bit more conversing between him, Blake, and Alex. Even Blake's eevee was enjoying the company of others as it played the 'I'm not touching you' game with Fern's leaf. However, something popped up. One of the trainers, the nervous one, started to breathe rapidly. That… hyperventilating wasn't good. Blake and Alex must have thought likewise, as both walked over to help her. Blake seemed a bit overeager to try to help, while Alex was trying to give the poor girl some space. Ryley, for his part, stayed back at the edge of the group, not wanting to give the girl more anxiety. Too many people and all. The pink haired girl tried to help out as well, siding with Alex's idea of personal space. Ryley watched as she proceeded to grab some materials from the table and distribute them. Then she introduced herself and everyone else (besides the musician) to them. The airhead was Avery, the girl hyperventilating was Peggy, Prima Dona girl was Abigail, and she was Melody. That would save some time from lengthy introductions. After Melody finished her introductions, Peggy seemed to calmed down to the point where breathing wasn't panicked. Enough to become embarrassed at what had just happened. Now seemed a good time to chime in. "Hey, it's okay. It's just good to know you're fine." In any case, what had made Peggy panic in the first place? Melody had mentioned something about Abigail meaning well. Could something have happened between the two? Maybe Abigail had pushed Peggy too hard, or maybe… No. Ryley stopped his train of thought. It wasn't healthy to go off on tangents without any evidence. It was then that Professor Elm spoke up. It seemed it was time for them to head out. Well, that and time for them to get their licenses. The assistant handed out cards to everyone, ensuring their legality in training. Their adventure was starting. Abigail briskly walked off without a word, kinda abrasively in Ryley's opinion. Melody proceeded to blurt out an apology for heading out before following Abigail. Peggy seemed excited to be traveling, which was completely normal, but still… The way she tailed Abigail was a bit unnerving. It was hard to explain why. It seemed about time that Ryley followed suit. It was feeling a bit stuffy in here. He walked towards the door, but lo and behold, Avery caught his attention. Ryley watched as Avery picked the assitant up laughing, and spun around, saying farewell to the young boy. Elm had known Avery, so the two boys must have been friends. Avery let the boy down, and turned towards the door. It was sad seeing two friends parting, to say the least. Once that was over, Ryley headed out himself. As he stepped outside, the sun glared into his eyes, causing them to squint. Fern did the same, but adjusted quickly. She seemed happy to be outside. The lab behind them seemed so dreary compared to the warm sunshine.</s>
<\|description\|>Ryley Grisdoe Age: 18 Gender: Male Appearance: Ryley falls around the height of 5'8''. He normally has a serious look on his face, but he doesn't really realize it, and it changes fairly easily. His hair often gets messy, despite his attempts at combing/brushing/whatevering. He prefers to wear a lighter t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Y'know, the 'usual'. He doesn't really care about appearance that much though, and prefers comfortable, practical clothes. Personality: Ryley is a very 'down to earth' type of guy. He can come off as sarcastic sometimes due to this. He won't run away from the truth of things, even when things are rough. However, he'll do what he can to change the 'truth' of matters if he doesn't like it. Also, just because he faces the truth doesn't mean he won't lie. Ryley respects others' opinions and ideas, as most of them have a good reason or cause behind them. Due to this, many people find him to be friendly. However, he tends to avoid people with ideas he doesn't agree with, if possible. This may seem rude, but Ryley doesn't want to argue others with strong beliefs, as he believes no one wins in those cases. Ryley enjoys the company of others, though he's not that good at small talk. He's better at having deep discussions. He may throw in a quick quip here or there in normal conversations, but overall he prefers to listen. History: Ryley grew up in Unova. More specifically, Opelucid City (W/W2 version). His mother died only 6 months after he was born, so he grew up alone with his father. His father worked as an assistant to the town's gym leader, Drayden. Due to this, Ryley learned a lot about dragon types, especially the legendary duo Reshiram and Zekrom. The idea of truth and ideals fighting always interested him, though it was slightly confusing. When he was 9 years old, his dad got laid off due to less trainers battling. He couldn't find another job in the city, so they had to move from home sweet home. They ended up moving to Violet City, where his dad got a job maintaining Sprout Tower. Though the lore of Opelucid was great, the history of Sprout Tower, combined with the nearby Ruins of Alph managed to sate Ryley's curiosity. Eventually, the wild pokemon's aggressiveness became so bad that Ryley couldn't travel to the Ruins alone. He became fairly agitated due to this, and wanted to do something. He tried asking questions around town, and soon found out that the wild pokemon everywhere were being more aggressive, but nobody knew exactly why. He decided he'd try to find out the source of the problem, and solve it. He got his dad's approval fairly easily and signed up for a license. With equipment in hand, he headed out. Quirks/Habits/Other: -Likes to learn about lore and history of various things -Doesn't have much of a taste. He often goes with whatever is healthiest, or he's in the mood for. -Loves the feeling of when a good plan succeeds. -Doesn't really realize it, but he's good at predicting what someone is about to do based on their movement and changes in pattern. Inventory: - Pokeballs x5 - Burn Heal x5 - Paralyze Heal x5 - Sleep Heal x5 - Antidote x5 - Potion x5 - Two extra sets of clothes - Old X-transceiver (acts mostly as a phone) - Camping gear - Notebook and 3 pens - $100 - A black backpack to carry everything in Pokemon: None TL;DR: Morally stable, and mentally strong. Fairly social person. Often serious and very curious. His color is yellow</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Blanchett ~Abigial Blanchett~ Abigail barely registered the insult from Alex when he finally caught up with them. She didn't really care much for him. Her current attention was focused solely on Peggy. She was waiting for the other girl to say something. Retaliate in some way. She expected the little girl to start bawling, or break down in some way. Possibly just stay silent and walk away. What actually happened, was completely unexpected. A loud smack echoed through the area. It didn't exactly hurt. In fact, it was more surprising than anything, which was clearly spelled out on the girls face as she gave her cheek a gentle rub. She had just smacked her right across her face. She didn't entirely know how to respond to that. No one had ever so much has ever even dared to do that before. Instead of being angry, like some might have expected though, she simply gave Peggy a small smirk as she looked at her, pulling herself back up to her full height. Standing at a rather tall 5'7", she practically towered over the smaller girl, ignoring both Blake and Jackson. ...it's not like those losers words actually meant anything, right? ...right. Before she had a chance to retaliate though, It was then, Avery wrapped the two of them in a hug, much to Abigails surprise. In fact, this was as close as she had ever been to anyone, let alone a...a guy. Well, unless she was the one doing the talking and stuff. But this? She was definitely not prepared for the hug. Almost immediately, her face turned a shade of bright red, before freaking out just a tiny bit. "G-get off!" She said, shoving Avery off of her, and giving him a sharp slap to the back of the head. "Arceus Avery, warn me next time when you're going to go touching people! Some of us don't...don't like...uhm...the whole...touching thing." As she talked, her words trailed off before she shook her head, remembering what she was going to say before she was so rudely...interrupted. "You know," She scoffed, her arrogant and condescending tone easily returning in a matter of seconds. "I'm not going to waste my time on someone with such hideous taste in clothes. I mean really, green? That is the most disgusting color in the history of mankind." She said, turning away from the other girl. "I think you'd actually look better in...maybe a bright red? Perhaps a blue or a yellow." With that, she walked away from Peggy, deciding to let the others decide on where they want to go. She felt...tired, actually. Kind of drained, physically. ...Blake was still laughing, and that stupid song of Jacksons... well, that was fine. Not like she cared about either of them anyways. Maybe they'd get eaten by a scyther or something, and then she'd be the one laughing. well, either way, she hoped they made camp soon.</s> <\|message\|>Melody Avery Hemlock ~Melody Hemlock~ Peggy's hand whipped across Abigail's face with a resounding slap. Melody froze, wide-eyed. That asshole musician guy started singing a nasty little ditty. Swinub-boy started laughing hysterically. And all Melody could feel was anger. No. That was wrong. It was more than that. She'd never really had friends before. She'd spent most of her life transferring from school to school as her parents went from one promotion to the next. When had she ever had time to build a lasting relationship? She didn't know how to have friends. So when they'd started out on this whole Pokemon journey thing, a happy little group of eight, she'd… she'd thought that maybe they could all get along. She'd thought wrong, clearly. Jackson's singing and Blake's laughter rang in her ears. They… they were all on Abigail's case because she'd been being mean, but… they were being just as awful, weren't they? Deep down, Melody knew Abigail wasn't being a particularly nice girl. And… it wasn't like she liked the things that Abigail was saying, no matter how grateful she'd been about Abigail not preferring Peggy to her. She'd been so lonely before she'd become a trainer. It was odd, really, how alone you could feel even when you were surrounded by people. But Melody had never known those people. She'd always been the new kid, who'd be gone within a few month's time anyway. Who would bother with her? But Abigail had given her directions even though she'd been a total stranger at that point. Abigail had said that they'd look out for each other. She and Abigail were a team. How could she not want to help Abigail achieve her dream? She didn't mind the fact that Abigail was probably using her. Who was she, if not someone who could stand by Abigail, and help her, and protect her? So maybe none of these people were going to be her friends. She hated Jackson and Alex already. Peggy, she'd thought, could have been her friend…. But clearly not. Melody could never be friends with someone who'd hurt Abigail. And she'd make them pay for what they were doing later. But… not now. Not in front of Abigail. And then Avery, clearly misinterpreting the situation, jumped in to embrace both Abigial and Peggy. "Aww… GROUP HUG~!" "G-get off!" snapped Abigail. She was blushing, but… she didn't look too unhappy. So Avery had managed to defuse the situation? Wow. Melody really did like that boy. "Arceus Avery, warn me next time when you're going to go touching people! Some of us don't...don't like...uhm...the whole...touching thing." She turned back to Peggy. "You know," she continued. "I'm not going to waste my time on someone with such hideous taste in clothes. I mean really, green? That is the most disgusting color in the history of mankind. I think you'd actually look better in...maybe a bright red? Perhaps a blue or a yellow." That was fashion advice… and actually very true. Melody thought that Peggy really would look better in blue. But she didn't care about Peggy anymore. Peggy wasn't someone who Melody could be friends with anymore. She felt a pang of sadness that she brushed off hurriedly, and jogged off to catch up to Abigail, who was walking off. She didn't even give the rest of the group a backwards glance. They weren't worth her time… except Avery, maybe. And she didn't know much about Ryley either. Awkwardly, she wrapped Abigail in a quick hug, but let go fairly soon. Abigail had said that she didn't like physical contact, right? "Um," she said, mumbling in the exact way that her mother had always scolded her about. She didn't want the others to hear her, but she wanted to make Abigail feel better, anyway. "Abigail… they're all idiots. You know that, right? Your suggestion was just as good as theirs, and they had no right to act the way they did. But, uh… I'll always be your friend. And I'm always on your side. Okay?" She smiled self-consciously. It didn't matter if the rest of them didn't like her. It didn't matter if the rest of them thought she was nothing but a follower, always trailing after Abigail. As long as she had Abigail… as long as she had her best friend, she could do anything.</s>	<\|message\|>Ryley Grisdoe It didn't take long for Ryley to outrun the spider pokemon. Having too many legs can slow you down apparently. Once they were out of sight, he slowed down a bit, realizing he did kinda leave the others behind. They were the reason he ventured after them in the first place, but those spiders… Thankfully, the unpleasant thoughts of spiders were interrupted by the rest of the group running away. From more spiders… Well, it was time for another fun run through the forest of spiders. Luckily it was lot shorter than his previous run, as they escaped onto the route fairly quickly. Now the group was back in one piece. That was one way to start off their journey! The topic of where the group was headed continued as it had before the pokemon catching spree. Melody, Abigail, and Avery had voted to go north towards Blackthorn. That left five votes to be tallied, with the re-appearance of the musician. Peggy brought up the original idea of going to Cherrygrove. Then everything escalated yet again. Abigail laughed at Peggy's desire to meet up with family, and proceeded to verbally slap her back and forth. It felt as though she was being cruel just for cruelty's sake, but she was probably being honest with herself. That was worse in some cases. Adding fuel to the fire came Alex with a series of small verbal jabs at Abigail. Melody tried to mitigate the situation, but it was too late. In retort to Abigail's verbal slapping, Peggy had literally slapped back. Violence should be avoided, but that… that was fairly justified. Even so, it shocked Ryley to see the nervous Peggy respond like that. He was sure the rest of the group, even Peggy herself, felt similarly. Though from there, the group responded a bit differently. Mr. Music started off by playing a song about the slap. And slapping in general. Weird. Blake responded in a huge fit of laughter to the slap, then the song. Laughter only made things worse, but Ryley could see why Blake found the situation hilarious. Lastly, Avery completely misinterpreted everything and gave Peggy and Abigail a 'GROUP HUG'. This, along with Abigail's stammering to the hug, not the slap, managed to earn a small chuckle from Ryley. Somehow Avery had helped defuse the situation immensely. Perhaps everyone needed a bit of airheadedness in their lives. After the hug and song had finished, Abigail spat one more insult to Peggy, but followed up with what could be seen as an apology. Everyone did have a conscience after all. Well, except for the sociopaths, but that's a different story. Things seemed to settle down as Abigail walked off wearily, Melody following with a glance towards the group. Despite the calm, it felt as though the group had split apart. That needed to be fixed. "How about we make camp soon guys?" Having the group settle down would be really helpful towards mending bridges. "I don't know about you guys, but a bit of rest sounds amazing".</s>
<\|description\|>Ryley Grisdoe Age: 18 Gender: Male Appearance: Ryley falls around the height of 5'8''. He normally has a serious look on his face, but he doesn't really realize it, and it changes fairly easily. His hair often gets messy, despite his attempts at combing/brushing/whatevering. He prefers to wear a lighter t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Y'know, the 'usual'. He doesn't really care about appearance that much though, and prefers comfortable, practical clothes. Personality: Ryley is a very 'down to earth' type of guy. He can come off as sarcastic sometimes due to this. He won't run away from the truth of things, even when things are rough. However, he'll do what he can to change the 'truth' of matters if he doesn't like it. Also, just because he faces the truth doesn't mean he won't lie. Ryley respects others' opinions and ideas, as most of them have a good reason or cause behind them. Due to this, many people find him to be friendly. However, he tends to avoid people with ideas he doesn't agree with, if possible. This may seem rude, but Ryley doesn't want to argue others with strong beliefs, as he believes no one wins in those cases. Ryley enjoys the company of others, though he's not that good at small talk. He's better at having deep discussions. He may throw in a quick quip here or there in normal conversations, but overall he prefers to listen. History: Ryley grew up in Unova. More specifically, Opelucid City (W/W2 version). His mother died only 6 months after he was born, so he grew up alone with his father. His father worked as an assistant to the town's gym leader, Drayden. Due to this, Ryley learned a lot about dragon types, especially the legendary duo Reshiram and Zekrom. The idea of truth and ideals fighting always interested him, though it was slightly confusing. When he was 9 years old, his dad got laid off due to less trainers battling. He couldn't find another job in the city, so they had to move from home sweet home. They ended up moving to Violet City, where his dad got a job maintaining Sprout Tower. Though the lore of Opelucid was great, the history of Sprout Tower, combined with the nearby Ruins of Alph managed to sate Ryley's curiosity. Eventually, the wild pokemon's aggressiveness became so bad that Ryley couldn't travel to the Ruins alone. He became fairly agitated due to this, and wanted to do something. He tried asking questions around town, and soon found out that the wild pokemon everywhere were being more aggressive, but nobody knew exactly why. He decided he'd try to find out the source of the problem, and solve it. He got his dad's approval fairly easily and signed up for a license. With equipment in hand, he headed out. Quirks/Habits/Other: -Likes to learn about lore and history of various things -Doesn't have much of a taste. He often goes with whatever is healthiest, or he's in the mood for. -Loves the feeling of when a good plan succeeds. -Doesn't really realize it, but he's good at predicting what someone is about to do based on their movement and changes in pattern. Inventory: - Pokeballs x5 - Burn Heal x5 - Paralyze Heal x5 - Sleep Heal x5 - Antidote x5 - Potion x5 - Two extra sets of clothes - Old X-transceiver (acts mostly as a phone) - Camping gear - Notebook and 3 pens - $100 - A black backpack to carry everything in Pokemon: None TL;DR: Morally stable, and mentally strong. Fairly social person. Often serious and very curious. His color is yellow</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Blanchett ~Abigail Blanchett~ Good, it seemed Melody was safe for now. Not that she really cared, but she wasn't going to let that Onix just do as it pleased. Unfortuantely, it seemed that no matter what the trainers threw at it, it just didn't seemed to do anything. Just how strong was this wild pokemon supposed to be?! she knew they were supposed to be more aggressive and dangerous...but with the Ariados, and now the Onix...was all of their journey gonna be like this?! Damn it, if it was, then how the hell were they even supposed to walk two steps without being ambushed by something!? "We've gotta run! There's no way we're beating this thing. Let's go!" Melody's voice snapped her out of her ever spiraling negative thoughts. Right, no time for thinking. What was she even doing thinking things like that at a time like this? Action, action was needed. And running was something Abigail was inclined to agree with. The Onix obviously was way out of their league right now, even if she didn't want to really admit it. After Avery, Melody, Ryley, and then Blake started fleeing, so did Abigail after recalling the Spinarak. Tyrian dashed right alongside Abigail, following as swiftly as it could. The Onix roared in rage, not happy about its newly found prey escaping. It charged after the escaping trainers, but thankfully they seemed to be putting some distance between themselves and the enraged pokemon. It seemed, like they might actually get away from the beast if they kept it up. And that's when things got...well, a lot worse. The Onix roared, and it started picking up speed. The jagged rocks on its body seemed to glow with a blue energy, the rocks on its body seemed to polish themselves and smooth the jagged stones. The various scars seemed to disappear from its body. It leaped into the air, slamming its body onto the ground, creating a cloud of dust and rocky debris. With a roar, it used its tail to lob large rocks at the fleeing trainers as it attempted to cut off their escape route. A rock, landed just inches in front of Abigail as she ran. It seemed, for whatever reason the Onix was not going to let them leave so easily. Damn it, if only Tyrian had learned Double Kick already! That with Totodile and Swinub...they might jut be able to drive it off. "We need a new plan! Like now!" She shouted.</s> <\|message\|>Melody Avery Hemlock ~Melody Hemlock~ "Let's get out of here! Jasper!" Peggy was the first to follow after her when Melody broke into a run. The other girl had seemed to have a bit of trouble with her Houndour, and had had to recall it, but caught up quickly enough. Next came Avery, and then Ryley --who seemed to be doing some kind of bizarre multi-dimensional growl attack thing with his Chikorita, Fern—and then finally, Abigail. Sprinting past, Melody hadn't been able to ignore the strangely unhappy look on the other girl's face. What was Abigail thinking? But then, of course, Abigail seemed to snap out of it, recalling her Spinarak and joining her escaping companions. And for a moment, it looked like they were in the clear. Melody sighed in relief, feeling a little hopeful-- But the Onix, of course, didn't seem particularly happy about this. It roared and suddenly started to pick up speed. Rock Polish? Melody thought in disbelief. Are you kidding me? It leapt into the air, surprisingly nimble for such an enormous creature, lobbing rocks at them with its tail as it made to cut off their escape path. Could they drive it off? Melody bit her lip, uncertain. Even if Blake and Jackson combined forces with their Swinub and Totodile… they were clearly outmatched. All of them were beginners, after all. Would they be able to do it, with a brute-force strategy like that? A rock landed only inches away from Abigail, and Melody sucked in a breath. She couldn't let Abigail get hurt. She couldn't! And what if Blake and Jackson couldn't drive the creature off? "We need a new plan! Like now!" shouted Abigail. There was only one option for Melody. She couldn't just stay passive and follow after Abigail, hoping that they'd both be fine. If she wanted to be Abigail's best friend… Then she had to prove herself, didn't she? She recalled Tesla, and prepared to do something reckless, heroic and maybe a little bit suicidal. Because really. How dare that stupid Onix try to endanger Abigail? Okay, so maybe she couldn't beat it yet… but she could at least try to distract it, right? "Run, Abigail!" she yelled. "It's too fast, we have to split up! I'll try and lead it in a different direction. You guys get away, I'll be fine!" Would she really…? She wasn't sure. But, well… let it never be said that Melody Avery Hemlock was a coward. And if this had even the slightest chance of helping Abigail… Then really, she had no other choice. Melody swerved, breaking away from the group and towards the Onix. "Thunder wave on the eyes, again!" she said, and Tesla shot an electrical wave right at the Onix. The bright lights caught its attention, and it howled in fury, swinging around to face her. She kept running. Melody wasn't much of an endurance runner, but at least she wasn't too bad at sprinting when she wanted to be… though she had to admit that she definitely preferred her mother's emphasis on prim, graceful walking to speeding around like Sonic the Shaymin. This was quite possibly the bravest, most terrifying thing she'd ever done in her entire life "Let's lead it away, Zubat!" she yelled. Zubat swooped in for another aerial attack, and succeeded in driving the Onix away from the main group… but only narrowly missing getting chomped on. The Onix roared. It was getting closer and closer, and Melody was starting to get out of breath… but she had to keep running. The Onix was chasing her, wasn't it? She couldn't see the other trainers when she glanced behind her. That was a good thing, she told herself. That meant that Abigail was out of danger. But she couldn't help the fear making her veins feel like they'd iced over. "Thunder wave again, Tesla!" she yelled. "On the eyes!" Tesla was getting surprisingly good at this whole "aim-for-the-eyes-and-keep-running" thing. Temporarily blinded, the Onix howled. It swung around blindly. Now what? She was definitely out of breath. Terrified, she threw herself under a bush, doing her best to ignore the creeping sense of revulsion that she was getting from being on her hands and knees in the dirt and grass. It couldn't see her… right?</s>	<\|message\|>Ryley Grisdoe Well, the Growl attack did slow the Onix down, but not when it decided to use it's brain. Ryley couldn't help but groan. Of course it knew Rock Polish. Of course. And just to add to this wonderful mess, a torrent of rocks pelted down ahead of them. That certainly didn't help their escape. Hell, Abigail nearly got crushed by one! ...He recalled Fern just in case. Running was still the best option, but it was getting bleaker by the second. They needed to slow down the Onix even more. There were trees around them. Bringing one down in front of, or even on the rock snake would slow it quite a bit. The problem was finding a way to bring a tree crashing down. As Ryley was entertaining ways to fell a tree, Melody decided to act. "Run, Abigail! It's too fast, we have to split up!" ...No no no. Splitting up would be the worst thing to do now. They needed to find a way to slow it down with a variety of- "I'll try and lead it in a different direction. You guys get away, I'll be fine!" No no no no no no no. No no no. No. What the hell Melody. Seriously, what the hell. You don't just do that. You don't just lead a gigantic rock snake away all by yourself. She had gotten into a dangerous situation earlier with the Spinarak, but that was different as they didn't know how dangerous it was. This time, they all knew the danger (Well, maybe not Avery…), and Melody was still… By the time Ryley's thoughts cooled down, Melody had managed to distract the Onix, and was leading it away from everyone else. She was fast, he had to give her credit, but a speed boosted Onix wasn't anything to wag a finger at. ...And here he was, just standing like an idiot. Well, time to act. Deja vu could really suck sometimes. "I'm going to hate myself for this…" Muttering contemptuously helped calm him down as he made his next move, calling out to the group. "I'm going after her. She's going to get herself killed". Without waiting for a response, Ryley turned around and chased after Melody. He couldn't see either Melody or the Onix in sight, but the trail of destruction certainly helped. It took a while to catch up, but when he did, his blood ran cold. The Onix was there, but it had stopped. Frightening on its own, but the scary part was Melody was nowhere to be seen. Ryley's thoughts turned towards various scenarios that could have played out, none of them pleasant. Almost all of them ending with Melody being dead. At least, they all did until Ryley noticed a flash of pink in a bush by the trail. That was a big relief. She wouldn't be able to hide long at that spot, but at least she was alive. Now the burden of action lay upon Ryley. What would be the best course of action in this case? He needed to get in contact with Melody, make sure she was okay, but the Onix was currently looking around, probably for Melody, which inhibited his actions. First he needed to distract the snake somehow. The rest could come later. Ryley picked up two decently sized rocks laying in the Onix's wake and threw them in quick succession in the opposite direction of Melody's location. As he waited for them to land, he noted the direction he threw them in was towards the Spinarak nest. Maybe, just maybe, he could use that to his advantage. In any case, as soon as the rocks landed, the Onix turned towards the new sounds created. Best case scenario, the Onix would follow the sounds presuming that's where Melody fled. As for almost every other scenario, more work was to be done. Ryley used his created opportunity to rush over to Melody's hiding spot, sliding behind the bush, hopefully out of view. He had to make this brief. "Sorry for barging into your party, but we need to lead it to the Spinarak nest". Ryley couldn't look to see what the Onix was doing, but he hoped it was blindly following the sounds of the rocks. That would save them from the possibility of death. Y'know, nothing big or anything.</s>
<\|description\|>Ryley Grisdoe Age: 18 Gender: Male Appearance: Ryley falls around the height of 5'8''. He normally has a serious look on his face, but he doesn't really realize it, and it changes fairly easily. His hair often gets messy, despite his attempts at combing/brushing/whatevering. He prefers to wear a lighter t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Y'know, the 'usual'. He doesn't really care about appearance that much though, and prefers comfortable, practical clothes. Personality: Ryley is a very 'down to earth' type of guy. He can come off as sarcastic sometimes due to this. He won't run away from the truth of things, even when things are rough. However, he'll do what he can to change the 'truth' of matters if he doesn't like it. Also, just because he faces the truth doesn't mean he won't lie. Ryley respects others' opinions and ideas, as most of them have a good reason or cause behind them. Due to this, many people find him to be friendly. However, he tends to avoid people with ideas he doesn't agree with, if possible. This may seem rude, but Ryley doesn't want to argue others with strong beliefs, as he believes no one wins in those cases. Ryley enjoys the company of others, though he's not that good at small talk. He's better at having deep discussions. He may throw in a quick quip here or there in normal conversations, but overall he prefers to listen. History: Ryley grew up in Unova. More specifically, Opelucid City (W/W2 version). His mother died only 6 months after he was born, so he grew up alone with his father. His father worked as an assistant to the town's gym leader, Drayden. Due to this, Ryley learned a lot about dragon types, especially the legendary duo Reshiram and Zekrom. The idea of truth and ideals fighting always interested him, though it was slightly confusing. When he was 9 years old, his dad got laid off due to less trainers battling. He couldn't find another job in the city, so they had to move from home sweet home. They ended up moving to Violet City, where his dad got a job maintaining Sprout Tower. Though the lore of Opelucid was great, the history of Sprout Tower, combined with the nearby Ruins of Alph managed to sate Ryley's curiosity. Eventually, the wild pokemon's aggressiveness became so bad that Ryley couldn't travel to the Ruins alone. He became fairly agitated due to this, and wanted to do something. He tried asking questions around town, and soon found out that the wild pokemon everywhere were being more aggressive, but nobody knew exactly why. He decided he'd try to find out the source of the problem, and solve it. He got his dad's approval fairly easily and signed up for a license. With equipment in hand, he headed out. Quirks/Habits/Other: -Likes to learn about lore and history of various things -Doesn't have much of a taste. He often goes with whatever is healthiest, or he's in the mood for. -Loves the feeling of when a good plan succeeds. -Doesn't really realize it, but he's good at predicting what someone is about to do based on their movement and changes in pattern. Inventory: - Pokeballs x5 - Burn Heal x5 - Paralyze Heal x5 - Sleep Heal x5 - Antidote x5 - Potion x5 - Two extra sets of clothes - Old X-transceiver (acts mostly as a phone) - Camping gear - Notebook and 3 pens - $100 - A black backpack to carry everything in Pokemon: None TL;DR: Morally stable, and mentally strong. Fairly social person. Often serious and very curious. His color is yellow</s> <\|message\|>Melody Avery Hemlock ~Melody Hemlock~ So apparently, Avery could climb. In fact, Avery could climb like an Aipom. What… the heck? In a flash, the boy was up a tree and concealed in the leaves. You couldn't even really see him anymore. Melody breathed a deep sigh of relief. Thank goodness. She'd been starting to get… well, really worried. The Onix burst out of the Pokeball in a flash of light. It roared, even angrier than before… and then stopped, seemingly confused, and understandably so. Its prey had just disappeared, of course. Its tail lashed at the air frantically, barely missing Avery's tree, and it sniffed at the ground. Not for the first time, Melody wished that her hair was… some shade other than brightbrightbright pink, because the Onix found them fairly quickly. She shut her eyes hastily. The bush rustled, and suddenly she could feel the Onix's hot breath on her face. She tried not to shake, but it was hard, especially since she couldn't see anything and had no clue whether she was about to be eaten or not. It won't eat me, she told herself. It thinks I'm dead. Besides, Onixes don't even eat meat! Uh… I think. But she had to stay still. She had to keep her eyes closed. She had to. A few long seconds crawled by, and suddenly she couldn't feel the Onix's breath anymore. She waited a few minutes, until she was certain that the telltale sound of the Onix's long, rocky body scraping against the ground was fading away into the distance… and then she opened her eyes. Sure enough, she couldn't see the Onix. Still, she lay unmoving for a moment longer, before she finally deemed it safe enough to sit up. "It… worked?" she said uncertainly, nudging Ryley, who was lying beside her. There was no sign of the Onix. Tentatively, she stood, and offered a hand to Ryley. "I think we're probably safe for now," she whispered, unwilling to draw the Onix's attention back to their little group. "Want to head back, and try to find everyone?" They were alive. They were still alive. That crazy, stupid gamble that she'd taken had paid off, and they weren't dead. Maybe Arceus was smiling down upon them... or something. The sun was shining. The Pidgeys were chirping. And they were still alive. All in all... suddenly, the day seemed so much better. Melody smiled. It was amazing how good surviving a near-death situation could feel.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Blanchett ~Abigail Blanchett~ "Uhm...well. Who says we make camp now? I could go for some food." After receiving no reply, Abigial took a quick look around. Where....? She was utterly alone out here, save for Tyrian who was playing with a blade of grass. Did the others...get killed by the Onix?... for a moment, her legs felt weak. "Ugh...well if they got eaten that's their problem." She sighed, somewhat awkwardly as whatever remorse or grief she may have briefly felt vanishing in an instant. Time to make camp then. she'd get an early start tomorrow without those idiots slowing her down. First things first, get her tent up. She reached into her bag, pulling out a small one-person tent that was easily folded into her admittedly rather large purse. She sat laid her purse on the ground, getting to work on putting the tent up. While she worked, Tyrian went about doing...whatever it was he normally did. He had lost interest in the blade of grass that he was playing with, and instead started snooping inside of her bag. After a few minutes, he found his way to one of the repels she had picked up earlier. Being the curious little pokemon that he was, he started gnawing on the can. just as she finished putting up the tent, she heard a small cry as Tyrian scurried out of her bag, growling softly as he tried to get the taste of the repel off of his tongue. "Oi, you little troublemaker! What are you doing now?" She asked, walking over to the small pokemon as he started gnawing on a blade of grass. "What did you do now?" She asked, causing the pokemon to growl towards her bag in response. With a sigh, she knelt down and looked inside, only to find most of her things were now covered in repel. ...well, at least wild pokemon wouldn't be taking her things now. With a sigh she gave Tyrian a harsh look. "That'll teach you to mess with things." She grumbled, but didn't do anything else. Right...firewood. She needed firewood. It was starting to get cold, and she was still hungry... having a fire type would be awesome right about now...ah well, she'd manage. ~~~~~~~~ Sometime later, she had a nice little fire going in the small clearing she had found herself in. A water bottle sat empty on the ground next to her. It didn't take her very long to get a nice little meal cooked after getting the fire going. Tyrian was curled up in a little ball next to her, sleeping soundly. She should probably be getting to bed soon too, then. Not like there was much else she could do, but oddly enough she wasn't tired. She sighed, throwing another stick into the fire. Oh well. She'd buy more at Cherrygrove once she got there tomorrow. She'd also need to find a new partner to travel with since the others seemed to have vanished. Shouldn't be a problem to find a decently competent looking trainer in Cherrygrove, unlike the idiots she was previously forced to partner with. ...speaking of partners, she should really probably check on that Spinarak. "Alright, out you go." She said as she released the bug type from it's pokeball. The Spinarak looked momentarily dazed, probably still slightly hurting from that beating it had earlier from the Onix. After regaining its senses, it looked up at Abigail, studying her momentarily. "Alright, we had a deal. Go if you want." She sighed, causing the Spinarak to narrow its eyes slightly at her, as if it was expecting some kind of trick or other form of deception. "Look here, bug, you wanna leave, then leave, I'm not gonna stop you. You're annoying anyways." Abigail huffed. The spinarak still seemed to be studying her quietly, as if it still didn't entirely believe her. Still, it started to turn to leave slowly. After it was out of sight. Abigail sighed again, and picked up the sleeping Tyrian. "looks like it's just me and you." She sighed. "Ah well, we don't need those losers or that stupid bug, do we? We'll do just fine without them!" She gave Tyrian a huge grin, before giving it a pat on the head. He ignored her, and simply curled back up on her lap. and that's, when she felt something crawling on her head. Again. "That's not going to work twice, bug." She said, tilting her head up to get a glimpse of a familiar looking bug. It seemed somewhat disappointed that it hadn't freaked her out like last time. "Dunno why you're back, but if you're coming with me, you're gonna have to do as I say, alright?" She told the bug type, to which it simply rolled its eyes and settled down on her head. "You mess up my hair again by the way, I will feed you to a flock of hoothoot." She frowned. Damn it...she was still hungry, but she didn't want to eat all of her food. ...oh well, what's the worse that could happen? She'd be a cherrygrove soon anyways. She'd easily get more food there.</s>	<\|message\|>Ryley Grisdoe Ryley lay motionless on the ground, not daring to make any movements. The only thought going through his head, besides wanting to not die, was wondering how Avery would react. "Good idea with the pokeball, there," Although the compliment was nice, now was not the time to be idly chit chatting. At least Melody didn't say any more than that. Neither did Avery, which was surprising to say the least. Then again, one could say he spoke with his movement. There was some rustling, a thud, then more rustling. Did… did Avery try to hide by climbing a tree? Ryley knew he shouldn't be surprised by Avery's randomness by this point, but you can never prepare yourself for true randomness. And Avery was random incarnate. A roar startled Ryley from his thoughts. The pokeball had lasted longer than expected, luckily for them. There was some thrashing that came shortly thereafter, but no cries of pain. Avery actually hid himself well. Sniffing followed the thrashing, the Onix apparently searching. And with the two of them in plain view… it didn't take long. Here it was, the moment of truth. Heated air flew over Ryley's body in slow, measured gusts. His body screamed at him to run, but he was in control, and so he stayed. Well, that and he was frozen to the spot. Can't be fearless, after all. Time was irrelevant at this point. The only measure was between hot and lukewarm air. Those waves of heat eventually stopped, the Onix moving. When those waves were taken away from him, Ryley was lost. How much time had passed? Was the Onix gone? Why did it feel so cold now? If Ryley were a pokemon, he'd hurt himself in confusion. Time must have passed, because he eventually felt a nudge. The Onix was back again? No… the touch was too gentle. Ryley hesitantly opened his eyes to see Melody standing, hand extended towards him. Had she said something? Ryley couldn't tell. However, from what he could tell... "The Onix is gone?" He took the extended grip, and, with Melody's help, stood up. "I think we're probably safe for now. Want to head back, and try to find everyone?" Holy hell, they had survived. Ryley gave a deep sigh of relief, tension escaping his body. "Yeah… Let's get Avery and group up." Group… Group… Something about that reminded him of something. He gathered his jumbled thoughts and quickly came to his senses. Oh, right! He turned to face Melody, his composure built. "Before I forget… Don't ever, ever do that again Melody. There's a reason why we travel in a group, and it's not so you can split off from it. I don't care how noble your intentions are, it only puts us in more danger." Ryley took a deep breath in. He had needed to get that out of his system. After he said that, he looked around for anyone else. No one, besides the hidden Avery. Geez, if others had shown up, his argument would have been a lot stronger. But still… He continued to look at Melody, not sure of what to do next. A realization came to him. What if they couldn't find everyone else? That'd mean he'd be stuck with the possible psycho with good intent, and the complete airhead, with what Ryley assumed was also good intent. Good intent aside, that left… Oh Arceus, please let them find the others.</s>
<\|description\|>Blake Winterhawk PERSONAL INFORMATION AGE: 18 GENDER: Male PERSONALITY: At first glance, Blake comes off as a serious, apathetic kind of guy. However, a pleasant surprice awaits you if you decide to get to know him better as he is actually very sociable and outgoing; if you get him to actually pay attention that is. Yeah... concentration isn't his strong suite and he is often found daydreaming, caught in his own little world. That, nevertheless, doesn't hinder him when it comes to his achieving the goals he sets. Blake is an overachiever and always strives to be the best at everything he does, moreso when it comes to breeding and training pokemon. He will almost never turn down a battle and thrives in extreme environments due to the experience he has gained from the regular wild excursions he went with his brothers when they were younger. Blake doesn't shy away from voicing his opinion when it matters. When faced with difficulty, he tries to deal with the problem at hand carefully and efficiently, making him a valuable asset to any team. HISTORY: Blake hails from Blackthorn City. His family, the Winterhawks, are well known for producing accompliced Dragon Tamers and take pride in that fact. His childhood, well, if there was one adjective to describe it, that would be adventurous. His two older brothers, James and Bracken were always there for him through good and bad times. When they were little, the three would venture together to the outskirts of the city. They would often sneak inside the Ice Path, exploring it for hours before their father came looking for them, worried that they might have lost their way inside the cave. Their luck didn't last for long though and one day, their fathers' worst fears came true. The three brothers had gone on their usual little expedition inside Ice Path. Having explored most of the cave near the entrance, they decided to go a little deeper, figuring that if something went wrong, they could always return back by following their footsteps in the snow. Well, they were mistaken. Before they had left for the expedition, their father, Joseph, had warned them not to venture too deep inside Ice Path because the wild Steelix that made their home there had entered their breeding period and they were very agrressive towards anyone who they thought invaded their territory. The three brothers ignored their fathers' warning and went deeper and deeper inside the cave, straying away from the main path with every step they took up. After half an hour or so, they had gone so deep inside the cave that they could no longer find the path back to the entrance. What's more, their footsteps in the snow had been covered with a thin layer of ice, making them indiscernible to the boys novice tracking eyes. That is when the Steelix appeared. Apparently, they had entered one of the nests where the female Steelix would gather and lay their eggs and as a result, the Steelix thought they were there to steal the eggs and tried to protect them. They attacked the boys and would have been almost killed if it wasn't for two brave Jinx that protected them from the danger by driving away the Steelix. Blake couldn't believe in his eyes. He couldn't believe it moreso when suddenly out of nowhere, Piloswine and Swinub approached the three lost boys and helped them. They carried them on their backs, guiding them safely back to the main path and to the outside world. From that day, Blake became fascinated with Ice-type Pokemon and made it his goal to become one of the best Ice-type Pokemon breeders and trainers in the Johto Region, and why not, the world! As such, after spending a couple of years getting down the basics of breeding, he set out to get his first pokemon from Professor Elm. QUIRKS/HABITS * He always gets mad with his old man because he never stops bickering about him choosing Ice-types over Dragon-types. * He is actually pretty good at managing money and as such, has very little expenses aside from the essentials. * Unknown to him, whenever he gets mad, a bulging vein appears on his forehead. * He has a mild case of germophobia. He never shares anything that has to do with food, drink etc with others. Other than that, he is perfectly fine with whatever your typical germophobe might be afraid of. INVENTORY: * His trusty PokeGear. * A black coloured shoulder bag where he puts all his belongings. * Potions x3 * Pokeballs x3 * TM59 - Dragon Pulse x1 that his father gave to him as a last effort to make his son change his mind and follow the path of the Dragon Tamer. Needless to say, he failed. * A change of clothes for the road. * 100$ POKEMON: * Lvl. 5 Acquired from Prof. Elm Ability: Snow Cloak Adamant Nature Loves to eat Egg Move: AncientPower TL;DR: Read the CS you lazy bum!</s> <\|message\|>Peggy Atkinson - Peggy Atkinson - "Sorry, gotta go! Peggy, the repel on the floor is for you. I'm going to go catch up to Abigail. You guys hurry, okay? Bye!" Peggy lifted her head slightly as she watched Melody rush out the lab after Abigail. She frowned slightly. After Abigail had been so mean, how could Melody be so eager to hang around her? Then again, the way Melody talked about Abigail made it seem like the two knew each other. Maybe they were childhood friends and Melody was just used to Abigail being a jerk? That was the only excuse Peggy's depressed and embittered mind could come up with. She glanced down at the repel Melody had dropped on the floor and, despite the fact her body felt incredibly heavy, she got off the chair and scooped up the repel and put it in her bag alongside the other one. One of the other trainers, a boy with light brown hair, spoke up to her. "Hey, it's okay. It's just good to know you're fine," he said. Peggy managed to smile at him. Well, maybe it wasn't all that bad, then. She had two repels, which was more than anyone else had, Melody seemed to care enough about her to give her a gift, and all these trainers she hardly knew cared enough to make sure she didn't keel over from panic. How did that song go? 'Always look on the bright side of life'? Anyhow, she decided she should run after the rest of the group so as not to be left behind. She particularly wanted to keep up with Avery and Melody, Avery because he was the first person she had met and she wanted to make sure he hadn't gotten a bad impression of her from earlier, and Melody because Peggy had decided that, of all the group, she seemed to be one of the kindest and probably the most tolerant. After all, she seemed to be able to put up with Abigail's bullshit. 'No, no, I mustn't think like that,' Peggy thought to herself scoldingly. Sure, she herself didn't like Abigail, but Melody did, and Peggy liked Melody, so she should at least try to put up with Abigail for Melody's sake, right? Right then and there, Peggy made an internal vow to try and be nice to Abigail... ... no matter how much she didn't want to. Steeling herself for a moment and taking in a deep breath, she made her way out of the lab, giving a shy wave behind her to the Professor and his assistant before following after the rest of the group. They were already a little ahead, so she had to run for a few minutes to catch up. One she did, she quietly started walking behind Avery, shyly pulling her hat down once again as she did so. She thought about trying to start a conversation but quickly decided against it, knowing full well she'd probably end up sounding like an idiot. Instead, she decided to preoccupy herself with thinking about what Pokemon she would try and catch one they got onto the route. She'd definitely try to catch a Pokemon, and do her best to be gentle and friendly to it so it wouldn't take against her like Houndour had. Oh yeah, she still needed to think of a name for Houndour. Peggy frowned. She wasn't all that good with naming things. She tried to think... what had her father name his Mightyena again? Jet, she think it was, after the gemstone. Okay, maybe a gemstone name. As they headed towards the route, she started running through the list of gemstones she knew, trying to figure out which would be the best.</s> <\|message\|>Alexander "Alex" Elric -Alexander Elric- The pink haired girl, Melody, seemed to be a rather nice person. Atleast, she created that impression. She introduced some people to Blake and Alex. Peggy, the hyperventilating girl, Avery, not the brightest light in the room and last and probably least, Abigail. Peggy was starting to calm down. Alex felt sorry for the girl. It was obvious that Abigail had something to do with reacting this way. And not only did Abigail already torment this girl, but she also had a bad first greeting with her Houndour. The next time that Houndour would be out and it would be this aggressive to Peggy Alex would help her out. And Eevee too ofcourse! Speaking about Eevee, he had been running circles around the group, happily barking to everyone and wagging his tail in excitment. Well, atleast someone was having the time of his life. Then Elm walked in and Eevee had to suddenly stop to avoid a collision with him. He did... But he slided over the floor right behind a file cabinet, luckily not bumping against anything, and it looked quite hilarious. Elm handed out the Pokemon licences and Alex took his before he walked over to Eevee who was now again playing with his tail. "Well Eevee, are you coming or what?" Alex said with a smile, Eevee just looked so adorable, Alex was fearing how he could ever punish Eevee if he did something wrong. Just look at those cute eyes and that tail! Alex probably had to think of a name for his Eevee but at the moment that wasnt really a concern. Right now he was going to look ahead to all the fun he and Eevee were going to have and maybe he might even grow fond of some of his traveling companions... Maybe. Alex, closly followed by Eevee, caught up with the main group. Well, this probably was alright. It could be worse, there could be two Abigails...</s>	<\|message\|>Blake Winterhawk Blake was completely oblivious to Abigail's comments. The girl in front of him had his complete attention. Thankfully, she had followed Blake's advice and started mumbling to herself the 'I am fine' mantra. Alex approached them, bringing with him a chair for her to sit. Blake watched as she nodded thanks to Alex and sat down on the chair. "Thanks man" Blake told Alex as he himself stood up, tidying up his coat. "Phew, you gotta be carefull with those panic attacks" he told the girl with a smile. Said the pink-haired girl and placed a repel down on the floor, next to the chair. "So timid girl's name is Peggy. Noted." "...and her name is Melody. I already knew about Avery from Elm's little introduction earlier, Hey" he responded to Avery's greeting. "...but why are you excited to introduce her?" Blake wondered. In the small amount of time he had known Abigail, he had already grown to despise her guts. He resolved to completely ignore her, now and throughout their journey. Then, Prof. Elm jumped in their little conversation, "Well, I guess he has a point. Everyone except her is getting along fine" Blake nodded in agreement. "....and what about our licences?" he was about to say but Elm's little assistant beat him to it, "Um, professor? What about their licences?" The professor seemed to space out for a moment, processing the question before giving an answer, He told them as Alfred was handing out their licences. "With this, I'm officially a Pokemon Trainer!" Blake thought excited. He put the licence in one of the pockets of his bag while listening to Prof. Elm continuing his speech. Well, Cherrygrove City seemed like a logical first destination to Blake as he looked at his Pokegear's map. Although, they could very much follow the path he took to get to New Bark. Go through the Dark Cave straight to Blackthorn. Of course, Blake had the help of experienced Hikers when he traveled through the Cave. This group was pretty much just a bunch of newbie trainers, making it very possible for someone to get hurt while travelling. Melody for one though, seemed unfazed by all that. Blake could swear she would follow Abigail to the end of the world, if it came down to that. Blake watched as one after another, they started leaving the lab. First was Abigail, followed by Melody. After bidding farewell to Alfred, Avery followed behind the two. Then Ryley and Peggy and after them, Alex. "Well, what am I waiting for?" Blake told himself and with his usual, confident stride, exited Elm's Lab. He quickly looked around, found the group and joined them.</s>
<\|description\|>MircusAshby Birthday May 27, 2081 Age 17 Gender Male Sexuality Hetero Ethnicity Irish Blood Status Pure Blood Wand 12 1/4 " Rosewood with a Phoenix Feather core Familiar Appearance Mircus is 6'0 and has a toned, athletic build. His eyes are an emerald shade. He always wears is long brown hair in a messy fashion, although it takes quite a bit of work to make it look like he puts no work into it at all. Even when Mircus is wearing casual clothing he like to show his school pride by wearing some combination of black and yellow. Likes Irish Rock and Folk music\|Quidditch\|Kenmare Kestrels\|Magical Creatures\|Helping Others\|Being Carefree Dislikes Hurting Others\|Feeling Helpless\|Orangemen Year 6th Year House Hufflepuff Personality Mircus has always been a carefree person, even since he was a child. He would always run through the fields or fly around on his broomstick, exploring the land. He was also very loyal, to both his friends and family, coming to their aid whenever necessary. He was a kind-hearted person to everyone he met, until they had given him reason not to be. He could be very helpful to his allies and quite dangerous to his enemies. Place of Origin Dublin, Ireland History Growing up in a multi-generational pure blood family wasn't as demanding as most people would have you believe. At least, not for Mircus. His parents were a bit more liberal in terms of blood status and Hogwarts Housing. He was fortunate to not have the burden of such things placed on him at a young age. However, he did find conflict soon into his early teen years. His parents came to him, explaining the importance of knowing and practicing the Dark Arts. They believed that to be a true and powerful wizard one must be able to use every school of magic available to him, not restricting himself. It made sense to a young child's brain. However, soon after learning to practice Dark Arts in secret during the summers at home, his parents began teaching him of the Dark Lord. The most powerful wizard of all time. Lord Voldemort. When he began his term at Hogwarts he had already been taught of the greatness of Voldemort and brainwashed against the "lies" he would learn in school. But he was also taught about the importance of secrecy. Soon, though, Mircus began to slowly contemplate. He wondered, what if the books and histories were true. What if Voldemort truly was as evil as they said. What if he did do these horrendous things to people. Mircus would become internally divided, wanting to be a loyal son, but not wanting to worship someone who had done such horrid things. Other Mircus is a Chaser and Team Captain for House Hufflepuff, taking his team to the House Cup twice, but always falling short, due to their seeker's incompetence. He didn't like to blame anyone, but there was only so much that could be done. This year, however, the seeker had graduated, and it would be his job to find a new one. Being a lover of all creatures, Mircus excelled at Care of Magical Creatures. His favorite was the Hippogriff.</s> <\|message\|>Julian Wolf \|Jean Clements\| \|Location: The Great Hall\| The other person had given her a glare and had practically pushed her off, stomping off down the table and leaving her kneeling on the floor, shaking. It was taken her a minute to realize it was a Slytherin and now they were back among their own, who were laughing and jeering, and pointing at her. Sometimes, she wished she'd never found out she was a witch. She didn't even have anyone here who would stand up for her. Her friends either hadn't seen or were disowning her for the moment. A chant had gotten up somewhere at the far side of the room near the Gryffindor but she had no interest in it, nor in the random shouts and calls across the room. It was Slytherin closest to the door, then Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and finally Slytherin. She'd always thought that it was this order because Gryffindor and Slytherin were like bitter rivals, so they needed to be as far apart as possible. Hufflepuffs were sweet and therefore an easy target, leaving Ravenclaw to be a small barrier between. Quite frankly, she wished to as far from the Slytherins as she could get right now. She'd gotten to her feet, shaking a little and had taken a couple of steps toward a seat when the great hall doors had sung open and Barnaby Arkwright came skidding down the isle. In her haste not to be knocked over, she landed with a thump on the bench, looking shocked. She'd never felt worse, biting her lip and shaking. "M...m...mind if I sit here?" she asked the students who she landed among. They were 3rd years, much younger than her, but didn't seem to mind and nodded. "Thank you." She sat miserably, head in her hands. She wasn't cool, like Tate or Tatum, or popular like Demetria or even funny like Barnaby. She was a joke. "Well...." she said, and then stopped herself. Finishing that sentence with something like it couldn't get worse was asking for trouble. She gave a small groan and put her head on the table, wanting to go to bed. The second time it was louder, when the Slytherin's began to sing. She wasn't sure who had it worse, the badgers being next to the lions, or her house being next to the snakes. \|Julian Wolf\| \|Location: The Great Hall\| Julian could give a flying rat about Quidditch. He'd never been interested in being on the team, but when the chanting started, he whistled to the rest of the Slytherins, most of whom started up the song, starting low and building. Most people might have recognised the tune, but the Slytherins certainly seemed to find it funny, Wolf conducting with his wand. "Who do we feel sorry for? There's no way that they can score! Gryffindor, Gryffindor. Who is easy to ignore? They can't handle what's in store. That's Gryffindor!" Many Slytherin's laughed and grinned, the noise building as they laughed and sang, but Wolf the loudest as the second verse started. "Who are we fighting for? Slytherin, Slytherin. Who's the ones who always win Slytherin. Against the Quaffle we defend Winning is all that we intend Slytherin."</s> <\|message\|>Damien Anderson Damien Anderson [ Back to Hogwarts ] --- "Come on Jullie, come here! We're going to be late if your done napping now" Damien said to his cat, arms crossed as he waited for the thing to finish its stretching and yawning. It was Damien's 6th year as a student in Hogwarts and he couldn't wait, picking up his bags and cat in the other hand, he looked back. Where he was staying was his muggle friend's place, where he was his roommate and paid for part of the rent. It was a nice time staying there with his friend but Hogwarts was calling to him and left his friend a brief reply with this month and next rent on his table and the spare key. The door was already locked, so he didn't have to worry about it and the windows were closed and latched so no one could enter. With nothing else to check, with bag and cat in hand he appirated to Hogwarts... His eyes were closed as the sensation passed, taking a deep breath as the tight squeezing grip on him disappeared, he looked at his cat and luggage before confirming they were still there. He was running slightly early however, he was in Hogsmead and would need to get to Hogwarts so, he began his trek to the school. --- It hadn't taken long as Damien dropped off this belongings and soon was in the great hall more or less on time with everyone in, sighing as he already wanted the feast to end even though he had just got here but at least he was going to see everyone again. Looking around, Damien saw the three other houses besides his and observed the newcomers to the school, keying some key individuals both new and reoccurring faces. He soon left his standing position and sat down at the Hufflepuff Table where he began to give small talk to his other members of the house. It didn't take long for his foul mood to disappear as he was captured back by his other peers and soon began talking about each other experiences while they were gone and many more other things. However, soon the room became more interesting as the Cummings Twins had a encounter with the Slytherin Jullian. It wasn't anything to be excited about but, there was always drama in the school that was happening that had to be sorted out somehow during the year. His gaze soon diverted from them and looked at his 'would-be' house, the Ravenclaws who had serious competition over their intelligence which made him glad to stay out of that house. He already knew that he wouldn't survive the backstabbing the house did to each other and was glad to be in Hufflepuff. However, a loud bang and a meek apology from a shy girl, on her was her house being Ravenclaw. Then there was Lucas, another Ravenclaw who was being given some disdainful looks for probably something he said, in which Damien wondered about his upbringing however, kept that to himself. Then there was the Slytherin household, which he absolutely gave no fucks, besides keeping some tabs on some annoying snakes he honestly didn't even want to give them any of his two cents. So, back to his table his gaze went where he observed who else was sitting at the table who he knew, which in this case everyone so, he looked for someone he talked to more than the others before pinpointing out Bleu. Despite his nature to be quiet, he went over to socialize instead deciding to be reclusive latter. "Hey, your name is Bleu right? You are in the fifth year, and..." He said next to her ear "your first year here. Yay!" He exclaimed with happiness oozing out of his words. He looked at the girl before he sat next to her and decided to pursue the conversation more, as he wanted to know more about her. She was eerie and seemed to have shown faint signs of fatigue that he noticed but if the girl wanted she could explain or not as it was none of his business. "So, since this is your first year, how was your other school like? I only been to Mahoutokoro in Japan, which I went to before moving and then coming to Hogwarts! I transferred here during my fourth-year if I remembered correctly and was sorted into this house! Also if you know why I know your a transfer student, its because of how nervous you are. You need to relax before our classes come attacking us with homework!!!" Energetically his words came out of Damien's mouth with a zap of energy and were in a friendly and welcoming tone, as he knew what it was like transferring schools especially as a wizard.</s>	<\|message\|>MircusAshby The platform was crowded and Mircus and Nyra had to weave between the mass of families saying goodbye to their families. Their parents always sent him off alone, and they appeared to be treating Nyra no different. A small Kestrel Falcon jumped around in its cage as she didn't like being shook around, and it gave a loud screech to let her friend know she was unhappy. "I know Talon, but we'll have you on the train shortly." Once their luggage had been placed into the undercarriage the sixth-year student led his eleven-year-old sister onto the Express. They moved down the narrow path as Mircus checked for a place to sit. He found some long-time acquaintances sitting in one and gave the Cummings twins a smile and nod as he passed by. It looked as though they were in the middle of a serious discussion, and given what Tate had been through recently he understood and continued moving. Soon he came upon another Gryffindor. He poked his head in the doorway. "'Ey there, 'team captain'," he smirked. "Aye, I'd heard. I'm sure you'll do well, but good luck." He smiled at the fellow captain before squeezing past three first years. He finally found a small compartment already occupied by two others, but since there we no other available compartments he and his sister sat down. "You look nervous, sis. Don't be. No matter what House you get sorted into, you'll do fine. And I'll be there to protect ya' no matter what." She finally grinned up at her older brother. "But, honestly, I hope you get sorted to Hufflepuff. We are going to need a new Seeker this year." They had a makeshift quidditch match in their yard and practiced constantly. Nyra had always been great at catching the snitch. She had gotten the talent from their mother. ~*~ Mircus had been one of the first in the Great Hall. He loved seeing all the new faces and reconnecting with old friends. Suddenly a commotion arose behind him and he turned to find that the Gryffindors were carrying their new team captain to the table. An exchange between the girl and a Slytherin only hinted at the rivalry. "Hell, she can't do any worse than your captain, Slytherin," Mircus coaxed up, using the House name as he didn't know the loudmouth. "Ye haven't had the trophy in three years." Mircus had been made team captain three years ago when the previous captain had graduated and drove his team to break the Slytherin's win-streak. Then, the bane of his quidditch career, Thunder Graves, had begun focusing him. And since, he'd been unable to be as successful on the field. Putting the banter behind him he looked down the Hufflepuff table, finding a familiar and friendly face. "Damien!" He shouted, moving behind the Korean and placing his hands on his shoulders. "I've missed you all summer, mate. How've you been?" He looked down, spotting a new face. She was unfamiliar but looked as though she was in her later years. Must be another transfer, Mircus thought. "Who's your friend." Not long after, the sorting ceremony had begun and Mircus had taken a seat beside Damien and Bleu. His sister was around the tenth to be sorted. When she came up onto the dais Mircus smiled brightly and lifted a hand to her as she waved fervently at him. He waited, watching eagerly as the Hat spoke confidently to her. "Yes, you are a bright one, aren't you. Perhaps you belong to Ravenclaw. No, you're too nice for that, they'd eat you alive. Maybe you belong in Hufflepuff then, huh, with your brother. You'd like that, I can tell. But you would have no room to truly prove those talents you keep hidden away. Oh, yes, I know your secrets as I knew his. No, no, I know the spot for you..." Mircus leaned forward, anticipation at an ultimate high. "You belong in Gryffindor!" A sea of scarlet and gold rose, and Mircus along with it. "Wooh!" He shouted, clapping and whistling loudly as his baby sister made her way to her new home.</s>
<\|description\|>MircusAshby Birthday May 27, 2081 Age 17 Gender Male Sexuality Hetero Ethnicity Irish Blood Status Pure Blood Wand 12 1/4 " Rosewood with a Phoenix Feather core Familiar Appearance Mircus is 6'0 and has a toned, athletic build. His eyes are an emerald shade. He always wears is long brown hair in a messy fashion, although it takes quite a bit of work to make it look like he puts no work into it at all. Even when Mircus is wearing casual clothing he like to show his school pride by wearing some combination of black and yellow. Likes Irish Rock and Folk music\|Quidditch\|Kenmare Kestrels\|Magical Creatures\|Helping Others\|Being Carefree Dislikes Hurting Others\|Feeling Helpless\|Orangemen Year 6th Year House Hufflepuff Personality Mircus has always been a carefree person, even since he was a child. He would always run through the fields or fly around on his broomstick, exploring the land. He was also very loyal, to both his friends and family, coming to their aid whenever necessary. He was a kind-hearted person to everyone he met, until they had given him reason not to be. He could be very helpful to his allies and quite dangerous to his enemies. Place of Origin Dublin, Ireland History Growing up in a multi-generational pure blood family wasn't as demanding as most people would have you believe. At least, not for Mircus. His parents were a bit more liberal in terms of blood status and Hogwarts Housing. He was fortunate to not have the burden of such things placed on him at a young age. However, he did find conflict soon into his early teen years. His parents came to him, explaining the importance of knowing and practicing the Dark Arts. They believed that to be a true and powerful wizard one must be able to use every school of magic available to him, not restricting himself. It made sense to a young child's brain. However, soon after learning to practice Dark Arts in secret during the summers at home, his parents began teaching him of the Dark Lord. The most powerful wizard of all time. Lord Voldemort. When he began his term at Hogwarts he had already been taught of the greatness of Voldemort and brainwashed against the "lies" he would learn in school. But he was also taught about the importance of secrecy. Soon, though, Mircus began to slowly contemplate. He wondered, what if the books and histories were true. What if Voldemort truly was as evil as they said. What if he did do these horrendous things to people. Mircus would become internally divided, wanting to be a loyal son, but not wanting to worship someone who had done such horrid things. Other Mircus is a Chaser and Team Captain for House Hufflepuff, taking his team to the House Cup twice, but always falling short, due to their seeker's incompetence. He didn't like to blame anyone, but there was only so much that could be done. This year, however, the seeker had graduated, and it would be his job to find a new one. Being a lover of all creatures, Mircus excelled at Care of Magical Creatures. His favorite was the Hippogriff.</s> <\|message\|>BLEU DELACROIX \|BLEU DELACROIX\| Bleu nearly jumped out of her seat when a handsome Asian boy approached her, her hand slipping from where it gripped her forehead and her head, losing its support, nearly colliding with the table. "Huh?" She muttered blearily before she completely understood his words. Smiling easily, despite the tiredness in her eyes, she nodded, "Ah, yes." Bleu experienced a whiplash of sorts when he launched into talking, perhaps even creating an amazing monologue, but she didn't understand a thing. Her mind was moving too slow and his mouth moving too fast. Smiling and nodding, Bleu laid a gentle hand on his forearm and made a motion, her hand fluttering in an upwards motion as she took in a deep breath, "Breathe." She joked. Waiting for a beat of silence, Bleu then said, "Yes, I am a transfer student. I come from Beauxbatons. What is your name?" Almost as if the universe was against her receiving the aforementioned name, a man that looked as if he should be on the front cover of Vogue appeared and interrupted. However, he also happened to shout the Asian boy's name and Bleu smiled happily. Smiling brightly, Bleu reached out her hand to shake his and crowed, "Hi, I'm Bleu!" Luck has it, before anything could happen, they had to sit in their seats and watch the hat sorting. Bleu herself had been sorted over the summer, something about her fitting in? Bleu wasn't paying attention; she was staring out the window at the time. And like so, Bleu didn't pay much attention when the first years were sorted, but instead clapped when she saw everyone else clapping and cheering when she saw everybody else cheer. Headmistress Reynolds took the stage and Bleu had to prevent herself from scowling – she didn't quite like this headmistress with her brevity and shortness. Sometimes, Shakespeare, brevity is not the soul of wit. Sometimes it's just down-right annoying. Despite her thoughts, when the Headmistress finished, she clapped. "Should we go to our dorms now?" Bleu asked once she saw everyone getting up and did as well. She lingered, waiting for Damien and the mystery boy.</s> <\|message\|>Emmet O'Faollin Emmet O'Faollin Emmet sat at his table, moodily picking at his food. He wasn't hungry, even though he knew he should be. He ignored the other Slytherins and just sat there. He was lost in thought, thinking of how his foster sisters were doing in their houses. He knew he should go make sure Roselle was doing okay, but he just couldn't muster up the energy right now. He looked up in disinterest when Headmistress Reynolds stood up and started speaking, then jumped in surprise as Dawna leapt onto his lap with a soft meow. he smiled and picked her up, letting her drape her orange body around his shoulders. He stood up with the others, but went over to the Gryffindors and tapped Roselle on her head. She looked up and smiled. "Hey wolf, whatcha doin?" Emmet grinned. "what, I canna check on my little sis?"</s> <\|message\|>Damien Anderson Damien was grinning as he heard his friend, from the distance, "I've missed you all summer, mate. How've you been?" It was cute that Mircus remembered him over the summer, and he had missed him too. During the summer he was mostly separated from most of his wizardly friends as he had to work and when he had time, he spent it studying and practicing on spells. He didn't mind that the two were friends, as they were similar to each other yet not and besides they were from the same house anyways. The Irish was one cuter friends and he didn't mind being surrounded by attractive people at all, with more being the merrier. The only bad thing, was... he didn't swing that way and that serious put a damper on things. Despite that he made sure his gaze was never caught when he was checking him out or giving those jealous looks and was able to remain as good friends with him. It was amazing how he got away with some things, that he wondered why he wasn't secretly a Slytherin despite how much he hated them. He reverted his gaze from his friend looking at Bleu, as it was rude to ignore her but then there was Mircus as well... When Damien looking at Bleu looked slightly overwhelmed with the amount of words that he just shove at her face, he wouldn't expect her to catch all of it. He apparently did that a lot to everyone, and that was the best reason why he was a hatstall, the hat didn't know whether if Ravenclaw could survive my chatter and inquisitive nature or simply put me in Hufflepuff to save them the agony. He chuckled to himself silently as he remembered he gave the hat an partially annoying time, as he spoke to the hat nonstop for that five and a half minutes basically sealing my spot in this house. "Breathe." He heard Bleu said, and he grinned childishly. He gave a small laugh as he sometimes wondered if he even breathed at all, but for her sake he stopped for a moment. But he wouldn't spare her any details later, to make up for this... Then after recovering from his brigade she finally said her introductions... sort of? "Yes, I am a transfer student. I come from Beauxbatons. What is your name?" He sighed slightly at her words at first but understood, transferring schools was hard but with the assistance of the twins, him and several others he would make her year great... Wait! Cross out Tat, as his brother was the better prankster but besides that her year was going to be a busy one with him! "Gimme a second, here he comes! Come lemme introduce you to another Hufflepuff who is in the same year I believe! Wait... your a fifth year darn it... Never mind now lets go meet him!" "Who's your friend." Damien was beaten to his sentence but it had worked out perfectly in the end. Exchanging glances with Mircus before with Bleu and grinning mischievously, with arms extended he introduced the two with each other. "Mircus, this is Bleu who is transferring to our school from... Beauxbatons, I think thats what you said right? A real long name really but anyways, she also joining us in Hufflepuff as well! And then, Bleu this Mircus our team captain for quidditch. He's the one who scores basically... like scores, also know as the Chaser I believe, yes?! Then finally, there's Me! Damien, the social butterfly of death! Well, at least that's what I would be if I was one! So lets be nice to each other okay, I promise I wont bite, so you guys don't either, okay?" He said to them laughing slightly, before turning behind him. He was watching the sorting hat's decision for Mircus' sister right now, which he had taken a note of when he had came into the room with her. "Daaaaw, that sucks really. I hoped your sister would join us but I guess to Griffindor she goes! At least the Ravens or Snakes didn't get her, she too kind for either of those houses. At least she'll have some reliable people to watch over her right? At least she doesn't have to deal with Tatum, his twin is apparently the more civil one of the set." He had said when the Hat decided its choice for the young witch. He silently wondered why the hat choose to put her in Griffindor but couldn't argue unless he put it on again. Which wasn't going to be a nice experience for either of them and besides the Sorting Hat knew best... for the most part and he wouldn't oppose its decision for other students. "Should we go to our dorms now?" Bleu had said to the two, and he looked around him as everyone was standing up as well. Well... there goes the Head Mistress speech, or whatever it was down through the drain. He had heard it many times and doubt it was of any importance so placed it onto the back of his head disregarding it. Looking at Mircus and Bleu before he decided that he would like to get the first bed before either of the two or simply anyone else, which wasn't likely at this point he still didn't mind trying and abruptly got up as well. "Yes, yes we do! Now... 3, 2, 1, GO! Race ya guys!" He said childishly before jogging out to the Hufflepuff's dorms for them. Dodging some of the students and vanished out of the room slipping out easily with his lithe frame, leaving the two Hufflepuffs standing there... to talk and get to know each other if they wished.</s>	<\|message\|>MircusAshby Mircus couldn't help but to laugh at his friend. He was such a ball of energy and constantly going. It was amusing. He always seemed to be in a good mood when Damien was around. He especially enjoyed listening to him as he tried to explain who Mircus was to the transfer student. Damien then commented on his sister's sorting. "Aye, it'd have been nice to have her here, but 'least I know she'll be safe in Gryffindor. Wouldn't be able to say the same about the other houses," he lied. He knew his sister was more than capable of taking care of herself. She'd been raised just as he had. Finally, Damien announced a race back to the Hufflepuff basement. Mircus chuckled as he watched his friend disappear from the Great Hall before turning back to the new girl. "Bleu, was it," he said, knowing it was. "Come on, I'll show you to the common room. Just let me say something to my sis, real quick?" He gave her a smile before moving over to the Gryffindor table. The Prefect was gathering all the first years. "'Ey, Nyra," he called to her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he gave her a squeeze. "Congratulations. You're a Hogwarts student now." "Aye, thanks," the small blonde girl smiled up at him. "It feels weird, you know? Like a dream almost." Her brother chuckled. "Yeah, wait til classes start, you'll lose that feeling." He saw Demi nearby and recalled her promising to take care of her. Mircus motioned her over. "You see that lass there?" He said. "The pretty one?" Nyra asked, pointing back to Demi. "Aye," Mircus laughed. "Her. Well, she's an ole friend. If you have any questions about anything, just ask her. She'll help you out. And if you're nice, she might consider you for Quidditch try-outs next year." He looked back to Demi and thanked her under his breath before waving to the two of them. He returned to Bleu's side. "So, shall we?" he motioned to the door of the Great Hall. The Hufflepuff common room was in the basement of Hogwarts, and the entrance was just outside the Kitchen, so it was the closest to the Great Hall. Mircus led Bleu through the doors. "So, what's Beauxbaton's like? Any better or worse than Hogwarts, from what you've seen so far?" After a bit of chat he'd finally arrived to the barrels that covered the Hufflepuff entrance. "Third one over, right here," Mircus informed before tapping it with his wand. The barrel opened up and revealed a small stairwell leading down to the Commonroom. It was filled with chairs and tables, bookshelves and chandeliers. Windows sat in the high part of the far wall, letting the sunlight shine on earthy looking basement (or it would, if it were daylight outside). "Right, so girl's dorms are that way," he pointed to a pathway leading out of the room to the side. He turned and made his way to his own room. A familiar screech made his face light up. "Hey, Talon. Have you missed me, mate?" He opened the door on the small birds cage and let the Kestrel jump onto his hand. "I know, you want out. I'll let you off tomorrow, give ya a letter to take to mah and dah, eh?"</s>
<\|description\|>John Reynolds Age: 22 Gender: Male Height: 6'1 Eye Colours: Left is Brown, Right is like...Bluish Purple Gift: John can sense when other Gifted make use of their gifts, and can feel the intensity based on how far away he is compared to where the gift was used. For example: he can sense you the moment you use your ability, but he'll have to play the Hot/Cold game to find the spot where you used your gift. He can't actually track you(as in you, yourself, not your gift) unless your gift is constantly in use, or unless you're constantly using your gift. Bio: John grew up as a fairly normal kid, taking a great liking to video games and movies and books. He enjoyed watching and reading these fantasies, and wished he could be in one himself. But as time went on John realized what an impossible dream that might be, because he began to notice that he was just a nobody. There was nothing truly special about him, and aside from being slightly above average in school - he really didn't do anything else. No sports, no extracurricular activities, no nothing. Just your average Joe...or...John. That is, until his eighteenth birthday; where his right eye changed color and he began to sense these...things. He didn't know what he was feeling, but one day he got curious enough to follow one of these 'feelings', and he came up to a house just as the authorities arrived at the door. He took cover and watched as the house was raided and a girl was taken out...she had mismatched eye colors, just like him! What was happening?! Why did they want her? Was it cause her eyes were different?! John figured they might want to take him away too, and he wanted to run away from here before he was noticed...but...that girl...she needed help. She was struggling and resisting, then suddenly she looked at John and screamed to him for help. His mind seared with an intense sensation, and he recognized it as the 'feeling' he followed over here...but...wait...the men who were capturing her turned and saw him. He panicked and got up to run, but...no...the sensation filled his head...and he felt brave...he had to help, he had to try. John tried in vain, and was captured. The girl and him were taken and enslaved; John was trained and forced to work as a hunter to find more gifted, and to the best of John's knowledge...the girl was strapped into a chair, forced to incite bravery into the hunters in training. Other: He's a naturally good tinkerer, and can take apart, put together, or just modify weapons. ---</s> <\|message\|>Cole Harland A man sat in chair at the center of a room with a black bag over his head. The place seemed to be abandoned and the only light source was from the holes in the boarded up window. The rays of light illuminated the dust particles that floated around the dimly lit room. The bagged man was unconscious but soon awoke to darkness. As one would expect it caused him to become alarmed and he soon began to call out for help. His cries alerted a man outside the room to enter but his heavy footsteps did not comfort the bagged man. "Listen whoever you are just let me go! I won't tell anyone about this I swear to god just don't hurt me!", his pleading did nothing but have his captor remove the bag. His reaction was instantaneous horror, "NO NO NO NOT YOU OH GOD PLEASE NO!-" before he could finish his rambling Cole delivered a punch to the man's jaw. He quickly silenced himself as the pain prevented him from continuing to scream. "Are you done? Good, because it's my turn to talk", Cole took a step back and began to pace around his captive. His eyes locked on the man with a look of sheer hatred and scorn. "I know you've been following me...Terrance Crewe. I know you aren't a hunter and I know you aren't a bad person. I know you lost your family to a gifted and you've become this Gifted-Hunter. In truth I don't give a shit who you are or what you've been through. You are making my life very difficult. In truth I could have left the bag on you and dropped you off at a gas station or something but you'd still hunt my kind....however this is way is more enjoyable for me" "PLEASE NO NO NO N-", It was too late. Cole grabbed Terrance by the throat and within seconds life left his body. The blood vessels around his neck became black and he seemed to have been starved within seconds. His eyes were sunken in and his face looked as if it had seen the devil in his last moments. When it was over Cole felt an overwhelming sense of euphoria as he leaned against the wall of the room. "One less regular to worry about..", he said as he got off the wall. His business here was done, Cole left the body where it lay and exited the abandoned building. Outside waiting was his car which he quickly got into but before he turned the ignition a thought entered his head. "This is the second time a non-hunter has come after me. Maybe it's time I got backup..., he didn't think about it for long before he started up the car and sped away. He was heading for town, perhaps he'd find a like minded Gifted.</s> <\|message\|>Thomas Barnett Thomas was walking down the street with sunglasses on. He could make people stop noticing him, but he didn't want to risk any hunters knowing that he was using his power. He looked at shops where he could get some clothes, these ones were starting to get worn out, and then saw a cheap clothing store. Thomas walked into the store, and started browsing the clothes, and then heard someone behind him, who spoke in a gruff voice, "Excuse me," he said to Thomas. He turned round quickly, gasping, hoping it wasn't a hunter, "Yeah?" he asked, scared that they might attack him, "Do you know where the jeans are?" "Oh, yeah," Thomas said, relived that he wasn't a hunter, "There over there," he told him, pointing to a clothing rack, After a few minutes of browsing the clothes, Thomas decided that he wasn't going to get anything here, and stepped outside, the sun feeling warm on his pale skin, and he walked over to his car. He sat down in his car, and rested. He didn't have anywhere to live anymore, and he had been relegated to his car for months now. Thomas put some music on in his car, and hoped he could find someone like him.</s> <\|message\|>Nice "Mariane Louise" Morda "Uh, yeah I do," Nice answered. She covered one eye, appearing to try and rub something out of it. "It's over there," a Nice said, pointing. She then went back to reading, her face hidden once again. It was pesky that people were asking her questions, but at least no one would ever meet Nice. They would only meet Marianne. It was the perfect disguise.</s> <\|message\|>Miller Anderson Miller Anderson It's been over a little over a year after he left home in an attempt to get away from the Hunters, and he has observed the stubborn attitude of other 'Gifted' people like him, refuse to leave the place they called him, only to have the 'Hunters' move in and subjugate them. Only to leave the home with deadpan eyes, all light from those eyes have been drained away by something. He has watched it happen, and he has tried to tell them to leave so that they wouldn't get caught, some heeded his advice, leaving quickly, but the unfortunate others who ignored him had become Hunter fodder. He was deeply pondering these thoughts, as he was walking along the side of a stretched out road. The heat was getting to him, he had already finished his last bottle of water he packed from an earlier town visit, 20 minutes ago. He was going to pass out sooner or later, and he knew it. "I really should've packed more water, haaah." he said to his deteriorating self. A building was clearing in the distance, he thought it was a trick of the eye but as he got closer, the building only increased in size. "Fuck yes, lucky, now how much money do I have on me?" he asked out-loud, not really expecting an answer. He began to walk towards the gas station, before entering, he put on his sunglasses. Opening the door, a ring came which signified the owner if there was a customer, a burly man stared at him and uttered a nonchalant 'Welcome'. Not really caring right now, he immediately walked towards the water section and grabbed himself 5 bottles, all costing 1.50 dollars "Cheh, whats with these overpriced water bottles" he said to himself again. Bringing the water bottles to the counter, it totaled to 7.50 dollars, grumbling he fished out a 10 dollar bill out of his bag and handed it to the clerk. "You know, your prices are really expensive." he said to the clerk, with him just shrugging back and in his burly voice, saying "Well it's all the way out here, deal with it." Being handed the 2.50 dollars, he pocketed them and went outside, sat down on a sidestep and greedily drank one of the bottles down.</s> <\|message\|>Cole Harland Cole hadn't been driving long when his car signalled that it was low on gas. "Son of a-", it wasn't a matter of money that angered him because he had a good amount. What bothered him was that he had to watch his expenses at all. "These regulars have it so easy they don't even know it", he thought as he pulled into a gas station. The regulars think because we have gifts makes us all killers, Cole knew he was a killer but that was only because he was protecting himself. Gifted are hunted down, sometimes killed by their own family. Why? Because one day they woke up with a different color eye. He knew other gifted, some of them didn't even have dangerous powers. If anything the hunters should be coming after him and gifted who could kill. Not that he was going to let them however. His life was his own, he was human just like them..he still is human. Until the regulars learned to deal with us properly the gifted would continue to run, hide, and kill if necessary. Hunters were mot the answer. Cole was brought back to reality and the task at hand. He hooked up the pump to the car and waited for it to fill. Only a few minutes after he did so was the gas tank full and the pump sounded with a ding. "They still have the ding at the pump? Damn this place is older than I thought", he said to himself before looking at the price. "Alright let's check the vault..", he said as he walked over to the trunk of the car. Upon opening it there was a duffel bag filled with cash. Over the years he'd done some...not so legal jobs with less than friendly company. Sometimes it required him to use his gifts but he needed the cash and in the end it just made him stronger for what he needed to face in the future. Cole grabbed the required amount of cash and headed towards the inside of the gas station. Exiting was a man with a good amount of water bottles in his hand. The way the guy chugged down a bottle told Cole it had been a long time since he last had a good thing going for him. He could be a gifted on the run or another homeless bum. Either way there was no certain at to tell without bringing unwanted attention to themselves. Too bad, if he was a gifted Cole would have helped him out. Fortunately Cole did not see the dog shit he was about to step on until the last second, he managed to move his foot out of the way but it caused him to lose balance a little and he his leg brushed against the guy with the water. Suddenly he could feel that he was no longer alone with his thoughts. This guy was gifted after all,"Wait in the car.." he said to water boy quietly before heading into the store to pay. "Looks like I'll have some company for bit"</s>	<\|message\|>John Reynolds John chuckled to himself quietly, and eyed the girl curiously. He stood there for a moment, crossing his arms as he looked around to make sure nobody was within earshot. It was clear, for the moment...corners had their advantages, it seemed. "I know who you are." He said, pulling a chair over so he could sit down. He then gestured at his bandages eye. "You and I...we're of a kind, you know?" John continued, sitting back in his chair. "For example...we both enjoy books. And we both have a secret. We've both been oppressed. The government has always favored those with money, and the powers belonging to the people are being taken away..." By now, John was trying to send this girl a message by emphasizing words in what might sound like idle chatter. You could tell he wasn't the best at this kind of communication, as the topics he discussed didn't exactly have the smoothest transitions. "The government has all the power now...and they don't want anyone else to have any. The government says that they know what's best. We've little choice but to agree and do as we're told." John leaned forward, and continued to speak more softly. "So that's why the government watches over us and protects us like they do. It's a dangerous world out there, and it's getting worse. I'm just glad I found you before any of those other freaks did...you never know who might be watching you..." John finished, and leaned back in the chair again. He hoped that the girl was smart enough to understand what he meant, so that he might get her to leave the library. John didn't want to have to hurt her, but his master wanted another body...and John was running out of time. Maybe if she had some gifted friends? He thought, as he wanted to make a point of only capturing those that were gifted with more...dangerous gifts. Nah...we...no...THEY...usually hide alone. But...I could never hurt someone like her...but...I'm also running out of time...</s>
<\|description\|>John Reynolds Age: 22 Gender: Male Height: 6'1 Eye Colours: Left is Brown, Right is like...Bluish Purple Gift: John can sense when other Gifted make use of their gifts, and can feel the intensity based on how far away he is compared to where the gift was used. For example: he can sense you the moment you use your ability, but he'll have to play the Hot/Cold game to find the spot where you used your gift. He can't actually track you(as in you, yourself, not your gift) unless your gift is constantly in use, or unless you're constantly using your gift. Bio: John grew up as a fairly normal kid, taking a great liking to video games and movies and books. He enjoyed watching and reading these fantasies, and wished he could be in one himself. But as time went on John realized what an impossible dream that might be, because he began to notice that he was just a nobody. There was nothing truly special about him, and aside from being slightly above average in school - he really didn't do anything else. No sports, no extracurricular activities, no nothing. Just your average Joe...or...John. That is, until his eighteenth birthday; where his right eye changed color and he began to sense these...things. He didn't know what he was feeling, but one day he got curious enough to follow one of these 'feelings', and he came up to a house just as the authorities arrived at the door. He took cover and watched as the house was raided and a girl was taken out...she had mismatched eye colors, just like him! What was happening?! Why did they want her? Was it cause her eyes were different?! John figured they might want to take him away too, and he wanted to run away from here before he was noticed...but...that girl...she needed help. She was struggling and resisting, then suddenly she looked at John and screamed to him for help. His mind seared with an intense sensation, and he recognized it as the 'feeling' he followed over here...but...wait...the men who were capturing her turned and saw him. He panicked and got up to run, but...no...the sensation filled his head...and he felt brave...he had to help, he had to try. John tried in vain, and was captured. The girl and him were taken and enslaved; John was trained and forced to work as a hunter to find more gifted, and to the best of John's knowledge...the girl was strapped into a chair, forced to incite bravery into the hunters in training. Other: He's a naturally good tinkerer, and can take apart, put together, or just modify weapons. ---</s> <\|message\|>Chris Jackson A monster. Betrayed, hunted, squeezing red ragged rips, running, can't kill it can't kill it can't kill it. The fear cracked into Chris's mind like a lightning bolt. Something was very, very wrong nearby. That was when he turned to see the bandaged man (now sans-bandage) sprinting towards him. On his tail was someone or something else, a woman in a red and black bodysuit, a collar around her neck. Another Gifted, he thought. One they'd made a slave of. "Go! Gogogogogo! NOW! Run! There's a fucking MONSTER after me!" "GET BACK HERE SO I CAN RIP YOU APART!" Now it was starting to make sense. The bandaged man was a hunter, or worked for hunters, and he'd known this thing was coming, or maybe he hadn't but he'd known something, and he knew that Chris and the girl were in danger. That's why he did what he did, but now he was in danger. The monster had hurt him, that much was clear from his pain and the dripping red holes in his arms. It would kill him if it could, and then the girl, and then Chris, and maybe other people too. Innocent people. All of these thoughts flashed through Chris's mind in the fraction of an instant it took the man's frantic pace to reach his position. Fortunately, his next action required no thought. None at all. With one hand he flung the scarf and glasses from his face and dropped them to the ground, along with his bag and guitar case. He took off running, running towards the monster, and slammed his shoulder into it from the side. "Go! Run! Get out of here, get away from the library, there are people in there!"</s> <\|message\|>Lucky Newman Lucky Newman Lucky smirked hearing where Thomas was from, though he was right about the putting on the accent that area. It was easier to get people to talk to people if you sounded like them. Though it was hard to fit in now, being Gifted stopped all chances of being normal and interacting with others. Though it was nice to be able to talk to someone like yourself, so talking to Thomas was nice. He didn't feel so alone but at the same time he was waiting for the knife in the back. It was a constant struggle in his head, he wanted to trust but the past betrayal was hard to get over. So simply put, he was on the fence about trusting. "I'm from Prince Edward Island, Canada." He said before chuckling softly before continuing, "If you heard my natural accent you would think I was someone fresh off the boat from Ireland or Scotland." He said with a smile remembering how heavy his accent was when he first was on the run, people thought he was from the old country. But he needed to blend in, that was when he met Siri.... He quickly shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts. He looked out the door of the old rail car when he noticed movement. "Be ready to make yourself unnoticeable Tom." He said lowly as he continued to look out for danger. As he watched a girl suddenly popped up from behind some old train parts, "Hi...I'm Lilith." The girl said with a slight smile on her lips. Lucky locked his eyes on her and stood still for a moment before jumping down from the old rail car. He could see that she was Gifted by her Jade and Maroon eyes, though he was going to be careful like he was with Thomas. He made his body rigid as he watched Lilith for a moment, he had to wonder if she was hunter. But as he watched her he noticed that her hair was wind blown and that she was slightly dirty, so she was mostly likely not a hunter as hunters were usually clean. "I'm Lucky." He said with a slight tension in voice but he didn't sound as threatening as he did with Thomas earlier. "You thirsty or hungry?" He asked though he was still weary of the new comer. He was glad to see another Gifted, but he was realizing that he was rusty in his communication skills. Damn you Siri! He thought as he held an arm out ushering Lilith to the old rail car that would give them some cover, for now at least. Maybe they could plan what to do next or in the very least get to know each other. But Lucky was waiting for the ax to drop and his luck run out.</s> <\|message\|>Cole Harland After exiting The Suite, Cole sat in the driver's seat of his car. This time there was music, only silence as he sat there trying to decide whether he was doing the right thing. Last time he tried something like this...it didn't end well. It seemed as though being around Cole was bad for people's health. The more he thought about it the more the memories of those he'd lost came back to him. It got to a point where it was too much and Cole punched the car stereo causing the display to crack and the dial to pop out again. Cole sighed as he sat back in his seat. "..What are you doing?". There was a silence as he rubbed his forehead, the pain in his knuckles had begun to fade but was still throbbing somewhat. That was when it happened, all those memories of his old friends came once again but this time instead of agony Cole felt a growing rage which added to the already existing pool of anger he had within him. The Hunters would pay for what they did to his friends, what they do to all Gifted. Starting now his crusade would begin, and those two down in The Suite would be the first out of many other gifted he'd recruit to exact revenge on those who oppressed his kin. "I don't usually let you out...but I cam tell it won't matter soon", of course Cole wasn't talking to himself. Technically he was but now it was a different being all together. Exiting the car Cole went to the back and opened up the trunk, inside was the same dufflebag from the gas station but instead of opening it he took it out with him along with one other bag which was for clothes. Once he was back inside The Suite he laid his clothes bag on hos bed and laid the duffle bag on the living room coffee table. Opening it revealed that it's contents were more than just money, inside were two Remington Colt 1911 R1 pistols and a G36C Assault Rifle. Cole laid the 1911s on the table but took the G36C with him to his room. Once inside the room he placed his rifle by the nightstand and headed back into the living room. He sat on the couch and turned on the tv.</s> <\|message\|>Lilith B. Smith Lilith looked at Lucky, her eyes widening. The offer of food and water made her lip quiver. The offer of shelter and company made her want to cry. She was so desperate for a place to stay, for people she could actually become friends with. So Lilith approached the train car without a second thought, she stood only a couple of steps away from Lucky now. If Lucky looked close enough, he would realize that Lilith's eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, her hair was disheveled, and her body was cleansed roughly, as though she had very little time to get clean. "T-thank you. That's very generous. I think I'll take you up on that offer." She understood this was generosity, and that he was offering it because she was desperate. Still though, she managed a bold smile, and reached out her hand. "What's your gift? We might as well exchange them, since we're going to be sitting in a train car for who knows how long." Her voice was a bis stronger although it was rough as if it hadn't been used often. She offered a hand to Lucky, and then peered around him, at the other stranger. She pressed her lips together and frowned. "Um hi to you too. How are you?" She asked, glancing between Lucky and the man who hadn't spoken yet.</s>	<\|message\|>John Reynolds Valkyr took the hit from Chris and fell, but as soon as she hit the ground she was getting back up. She screamed at him and prepared to charge, but John tackled her back to the ground and shocked her with his batons. By now, people were screaming and running away from the library in panic. Valkyr kicked John off of her and sent him flying into Nice, resulting in a cracking-thud sort of sound. John moved slightly but didn't get up, one of his shock batons had fallen near Chris while the other was in the pile with him and Nice. Valkyr had gotten to her feet and grabbed a man who came out of the library, swinging him around to slam his face into the wall. The man was killed instantly as his skull fractured on impact, and then his lifeless body proceeded to be thrown at Chris by a screaming Valkyr.</s>
<\|description\|>John Reynolds Age: 22 Gender: Male Height: 6'1 Eye Colours: Left is Brown, Right is like...Bluish Purple Gift: John can sense when other Gifted make use of their gifts, and can feel the intensity based on how far away he is compared to where the gift was used. For example: he can sense you the moment you use your ability, but he'll have to play the Hot/Cold game to find the spot where you used your gift. He can't actually track you(as in you, yourself, not your gift) unless your gift is constantly in use, or unless you're constantly using your gift. Bio: John grew up as a fairly normal kid, taking a great liking to video games and movies and books. He enjoyed watching and reading these fantasies, and wished he could be in one himself. But as time went on John realized what an impossible dream that might be, because he began to notice that he was just a nobody. There was nothing truly special about him, and aside from being slightly above average in school - he really didn't do anything else. No sports, no extracurricular activities, no nothing. Just your average Joe...or...John. That is, until his eighteenth birthday; where his right eye changed color and he began to sense these...things. He didn't know what he was feeling, but one day he got curious enough to follow one of these 'feelings', and he came up to a house just as the authorities arrived at the door. He took cover and watched as the house was raided and a girl was taken out...she had mismatched eye colors, just like him! What was happening?! Why did they want her? Was it cause her eyes were different?! John figured they might want to take him away too, and he wanted to run away from here before he was noticed...but...that girl...she needed help. She was struggling and resisting, then suddenly she looked at John and screamed to him for help. His mind seared with an intense sensation, and he recognized it as the 'feeling' he followed over here...but...wait...the men who were capturing her turned and saw him. He panicked and got up to run, but...no...the sensation filled his head...and he felt brave...he had to help, he had to try. John tried in vain, and was captured. The girl and him were taken and enslaved; John was trained and forced to work as a hunter to find more gifted, and to the best of John's knowledge...the girl was strapped into a chair, forced to incite bravery into the hunters in training. Other: He's a naturally good tinkerer, and can take apart, put together, or just modify weapons. ---</s> <\|message\|>John Reynolds Blurred images of people running, muffled screams filling the air...the faint humming of a helicopter getting louder...getting closer. Looking back down at the ground...is that blood? Is that...my blood? John thought, a headache setting in as he moved to put his hands on the ground to push himself up. Suddenly an immense pain shot up his left arm, and John rolled onto his back and looked at his arm to see that it was broken. He slowly lifted himself up into a sitting position with one hand, looking over at the body of Nice. Blood had been pooling up beneath her, seeming to be pouring from her head. Oh shit...I hit her when I was thrown...her skull must have fractured when it hit the concrete. John thought as he stared at Nice's face in the puddle of blood...she almost looked asleep. John was soon snapped out of his trance when he heard and saw one of his shock batons hit the ground beside him, accompanied by Chris' rallying words. "Get up, John! You can still save them!" John offered no reply, and simply spat out blood before slowly rising to his feet. He took hold of his broken arm and shifted it back into place as best he could, grunting through his clenched teeth. A news helicopter had arrived on scene, which was doing a decent job of distracting Valkyr as she screamed up into the air. John picked up the shock baton that Chris had tossed at him, and put it away in his coat before picking up the other baton by Nice's body. "We've got to go...n-now! We won't be...a-any help...t-to these people if...if we're d-dead. We've got to...r-run...l-lead her away..." John tried to tell Chris as quickly as he could, before Valkyr could focus her attention back on the two of them. By now, this event was broadcasting live by the news helicopter, and sirens could be heard in the distance. John looked down the street and back at Chris. Valkyr then heard the sirens herself and snapped her head around to look dead at Chris and John. She growled menacingly as another set of vials raised out of the back of her suit, injecting the liquids they held into her body once more. "F-Fucking hell! W-We...n-need to go...N-NOW!" John shouted as he turned to run away, holding his broken arm with his good arm almost as if he was carrying a football. Once Valkyr's fresh set of vials had been ejected and fell to the ground, she released a bloodcurdling shriek. Whatever humanity she still had was now completely gone from her, as she continued to growl like she was some wolf defending her claim over a fresh kill.</s> <\|message\|>Chris Jackson Chris saw the remains of the girl's body a moment after John. She looked peaceful, pleased almost - a thin smile tugged at the corners of her still lips. He wondered, idly, what she had been feeling when he died, if she had been afraid, or sad, or if she had suffered long. He wasn't accustomed to not knowing, and now it seemed like he'd never have cause to be. For a moment, Chris glanced between the news chopper, the monster, and the girl's dead body on the ground. "...Right. Run. Run sounds good." Squinting from the helicopter's lights, Chris took off down the street, trusting that John would be following behind. "Follow me, I know a place where we can hide!" Without turning to see if the hunter had obeyed his directions, Chris turned into an alleyway. The place he had in mind wasn't far, but the path was long and twisting - with any luck, they'd lose the monster in the turns. And, failing that, at least the place was always empty - if he and the hunter couldn't shake their pursuers, at least nobody else would die.</s> <\|message\|>Miller Anderson Miller Anderson Becoming wide eyed and awed at the immense place at what he thought would be a dump, he whistles then says, "Wow, you really struck it big, this place is sweet. with a grin, he quickly set off to explore the area, he set off right before Cole could explain the area but Miller was enthralled by the place and quickly found one of the bedrooms. Placing his backpack down, and just admiring the place, he quickly took a change of clothes since his old ones were sweaty. Putting on his new clothes, he left the bedroom and looked around. He still couldn't believe the size of this suite, the Bathroom was nice, the Kitchen was huge, but what took him by surprise was the living room, it was sweet. Stumbling upon the Pool, on impulse he decided that he'd want to take a quick dip, removing his clothes to reveal hard rock abs... No who am I kidding he doesn't have any. Running back to his room, he luckily had boxers that were fit for swimming and he changed again and ran back to the pool and jumped it, yelling "CANNONBALL!"</s> <\|message\|>Cole Harland Cole had finished his last drink, the fourth, and was now sitting in the kitchen trying to determine his next course of action. Of course while this was going on he heard Miller yell, ""CANNONBALL!" from downstairs. That triggered a memory of Cole's last time here. What was happening now was almost exactly like last time. The only difference was Cole wasn't drinking the first time. Well at least not for the same reason. His memory reminded him of the youngest in the group, Alex. Alex was a lot like Miller, the only difference was that Alex knew when to shut up. Still so far Miller has proven to be an alright guy. His last group even had someone like Naddy...no, no one was like Josie. Cole tried hard to forget the memory of her. It was too painful to revisit, not after what happened. Cole got up from his seat in the kitchen and headed downstairs. Once he was near the pool Cole didn't wait for Miller's undivided attention he simply yelled, "Hurry up, we got a meeting in the living room real soon!". Cole headed back upstairs and sat back on the couch. He didn't waste time and immediately handed Naddy one of the 1911s. "Just incase", was all he said before grabbing the remote and turning the tv to the news. What he saw wasn't good news. There was...something terrorizing the nearby town. What it was exactly Cole had no clue but it wasn't the first time he saw something like this. The Hunters had used gifted before in strange experiments but it was the first time he'd seen one actually completed. From the looks of it that thing was pursuing Gifted no doubt. The problem was what course of action should be taken. Cole wanted to help as many Gifted as he could but that thing...was there even stopping that thing?</s> <\|message\|>Natalia "Naddy" Neapein Naddy looked over to Miller as he seemed quite excited. She was more excited by the prospect of having a comfortable bed at this moment. Getting up she removed her coat, her tank top showing all the tattoos down her arms, as well as the ones on her lower back and even comingup the the back of her neck. She fallowed Cole over to the kitchen and opened a cupboard pulling out a glass as she moved the fridge getting some ice. After that she moved over looking and finding the Bourbon. Pouring her self a glass she lifted it up to her mouth and took a sip of it. Smiling she felt that golden brown liquid flowing down her throat with that little tickle of a burn. "Now that is refreshing" She set down her glass sighing as she was able to relax for the first time in what seemed like months. She closed her eyes as she was taking sips of her drink. As she stood there a handgun was handed out to her her. With out even looking she grabbed it, dropping the clip she pulled the slide back and looked forward raising it up as she pulled the trigger. It clicked but since there were now rounds that was all it did as the slide locked back. "Nice, smooth action, quick response. You take care of your guns, the hammer is a little slow on the response." She released the slide lock as it slid forward and she pushed that magazine back up into it's home as she reached back pushing it into the back of her pants. "A holster would be nice" She added grabbing her coat and her drink heading into the living room after hearing cole talking about a meeting. She draped her coat over the back of the couch as she sat down leaning back into the nook of it and took another sip of her drink.</s>	<\|message\|>John Reynolds John followed Chris as the two made their escape, running into the alleyway as the sirens got louder. You could hear the screech of tires, followed closely by the opening and slamming of car doors. There was a moment of shouting, accompanied by the whirring blades of the orbiting news helicopter. A ferocious scream then broke through the air as if the shouting of men and the whirring of the helicopter had only been little more than crickets chirping, capable of belonging to no one other than Valkyr herself. John slowed down and turned to look behind him as Valkyr pounced on an officer, beating his head into the pavement as a shock baton rolled out of his now lifeless hand. The other authorities reached for their sidearms, but Valkyr had already taken the one from the officer she had just killed and began to fire on the other men. Twelve gunshot rapidly rang through the air as four men fell to the ground, dead. The surviving officers took cover being the cars they had arrived in, and Valkyr began to look around frantically. She was doing something...she had an objective...but what? She growled almost as if out of pain, struggling to remember the man with the two shock batons. That was it! She was after him...but where did he go? Valkyr then looked down the alley way and saw a blur of movement disappear around the corner, taking it as a sign of her prey she then bolted off down the alley while the officers began to open fire on her from behind. Meanwhile, John had returned to running after Chris as fast as he could, grunting with every other step as he felt a throbbing pain in his broken arm.</s>
<\|description\|>Chris Jackson Age: 22 Gender: Male Height: 5' 10" Eye Colors: Brown and Yellow Gift: Anyone in Chris's presence (within about six feet) feels a sharp sense of discomfort and a desire to get away from him (this doesn't apply if there's a barrier between the two). Anyone who looks at his face immediately gets a headache that gets more and more painful the longer the gaze is held. Additionally, he has a subconscious sense of other people's unhappiness – he can tell what's hurting them, and gets a vague idea of how to help. Bio: Chris was a normal boy in a normal town. His whole life, he'd always been something of a boyscout – he was down-to-earth, gentle, hardworking, and kind. He hated conflict, always tried to be a leader, and did his best to see the good in everyone. Though he may not have been the brightest bulb, he certainly had prospects; on his eighteenth birthday, he was just a few months away from heading off to college and beginning the next stage of his life. Naturally, that all changed when he woke up that morning with one yellow eye. Suddenly, nobody could stand him – not his friends, not his presence, not his community. People looked at the ceiling, or the floor, never at him, and all fled from him before long. But that wasn't all. He found that he could sense other people's hurts – their aches and fears, things they'd loved and lost. Not only that, but he found he could help them. Sometimes, he knew exactly what to say, or where to look, or what to give to lessen someone's unhappiness. Of course, as he stayed in his home town, the source of people's unhappiness more and more frequently was pointed at a single target: him. He knew exactly what he had to do to help, and he did it: he left without saying goodbye. For four years since then, he has traveled aimlessly, helping where he could, keeping away and out of sight as best as he was able, and avoiding those who would hunt him as long as he can. Other: Yes, the concept of the character is somewhat based on Cole from Dragon Age. It's also worth noting that he doesn't know if the headaches he causes are potentially lethal (they are, but only after a good while of staring).</s> <\|message\|>Chris Jackson A monster. Betrayed, hunted, squeezing red ragged rips, running, can't kill it can't kill it can't kill it. The fear cracked into Chris's mind like a lightning bolt. Something was very, very wrong nearby. That was when he turned to see the bandaged man (now sans-bandage) sprinting towards him. On his tail was someone or something else, a woman in a red and black bodysuit, a collar around her neck. Another Gifted, he thought. One they'd made a slave of. "Go! Gogogogogo! NOW! Run! There's a fucking MONSTER after me!" "GET BACK HERE SO I CAN RIP YOU APART!" Now it was starting to make sense. The bandaged man was a hunter, or worked for hunters, and he'd known this thing was coming, or maybe he hadn't but he'd known something, and he knew that Chris and the girl were in danger. That's why he did what he did, but now he was in danger. The monster had hurt him, that much was clear from his pain and the dripping red holes in his arms. It would kill him if it could, and then the girl, and then Chris, and maybe other people too. Innocent people. All of these thoughts flashed through Chris's mind in the fraction of an instant it took the man's frantic pace to reach his position. Fortunately, his next action required no thought. None at all. With one hand he flung the scarf and glasses from his face and dropped them to the ground, along with his bag and guitar case. He took off running, running towards the monster, and slammed his shoulder into it from the side. "Go! Run! Get out of here, get away from the library, there are people in there!"</s> <\|message\|>Lucky Newman Lucky Newman Lucky smirked hearing where Thomas was from, though he was right about the putting on the accent that area. It was easier to get people to talk to people if you sounded like them. Though it was hard to fit in now, being Gifted stopped all chances of being normal and interacting with others. Though it was nice to be able to talk to someone like yourself, so talking to Thomas was nice. He didn't feel so alone but at the same time he was waiting for the knife in the back. It was a constant struggle in his head, he wanted to trust but the past betrayal was hard to get over. So simply put, he was on the fence about trusting. "I'm from Prince Edward Island, Canada." He said before chuckling softly before continuing, "If you heard my natural accent you would think I was someone fresh off the boat from Ireland or Scotland." He said with a smile remembering how heavy his accent was when he first was on the run, people thought he was from the old country. But he needed to blend in, that was when he met Siri.... He quickly shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts. He looked out the door of the old rail car when he noticed movement. "Be ready to make yourself unnoticeable Tom." He said lowly as he continued to look out for danger. As he watched a girl suddenly popped up from behind some old train parts, "Hi...I'm Lilith." The girl said with a slight smile on her lips. Lucky locked his eyes on her and stood still for a moment before jumping down from the old rail car. He could see that she was Gifted by her Jade and Maroon eyes, though he was going to be careful like he was with Thomas. He made his body rigid as he watched Lilith for a moment, he had to wonder if she was hunter. But as he watched her he noticed that her hair was wind blown and that she was slightly dirty, so she was mostly likely not a hunter as hunters were usually clean. "I'm Lucky." He said with a slight tension in voice but he didn't sound as threatening as he did with Thomas earlier. "You thirsty or hungry?" He asked though he was still weary of the new comer. He was glad to see another Gifted, but he was realizing that he was rusty in his communication skills. Damn you Siri! He thought as he held an arm out ushering Lilith to the old rail car that would give them some cover, for now at least. Maybe they could plan what to do next or in the very least get to know each other. But Lucky was waiting for the ax to drop and his luck run out.</s> <\|message\|>Cole Harland After exiting The Suite, Cole sat in the driver's seat of his car. This time there was music, only silence as he sat there trying to decide whether he was doing the right thing. Last time he tried something like this...it didn't end well. It seemed as though being around Cole was bad for people's health. The more he thought about it the more the memories of those he'd lost came back to him. It got to a point where it was too much and Cole punched the car stereo causing the display to crack and the dial to pop out again. Cole sighed as he sat back in his seat. "..What are you doing?". There was a silence as he rubbed his forehead, the pain in his knuckles had begun to fade but was still throbbing somewhat. That was when it happened, all those memories of his old friends came once again but this time instead of agony Cole felt a growing rage which added to the already existing pool of anger he had within him. The Hunters would pay for what they did to his friends, what they do to all Gifted. Starting now his crusade would begin, and those two down in The Suite would be the first out of many other gifted he'd recruit to exact revenge on those who oppressed his kin. "I don't usually let you out...but I cam tell it won't matter soon", of course Cole wasn't talking to himself. Technically he was but now it was a different being all together. Exiting the car Cole went to the back and opened up the trunk, inside was the same dufflebag from the gas station but instead of opening it he took it out with him along with one other bag which was for clothes. Once he was back inside The Suite he laid his clothes bag on hos bed and laid the duffle bag on the living room coffee table. Opening it revealed that it's contents were more than just money, inside were two Remington Colt 1911 R1 pistols and a G36C Assault Rifle. Cole laid the 1911s on the table but took the G36C with him to his room. Once inside the room he placed his rifle by the nightstand and headed back into the living room. He sat on the couch and turned on the tv.</s> <\|message\|>Lilith B. Smith Lilith looked at Lucky, her eyes widening. The offer of food and water made her lip quiver. The offer of shelter and company made her want to cry. She was so desperate for a place to stay, for people she could actually become friends with. So Lilith approached the train car without a second thought, she stood only a couple of steps away from Lucky now. If Lucky looked close enough, he would realize that Lilith's eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, her hair was disheveled, and her body was cleansed roughly, as though she had very little time to get clean. "T-thank you. That's very generous. I think I'll take you up on that offer." She understood this was generosity, and that he was offering it because she was desperate. Still though, she managed a bold smile, and reached out her hand. "What's your gift? We might as well exchange them, since we're going to be sitting in a train car for who knows how long." Her voice was a bis stronger although it was rough as if it hadn't been used often. She offered a hand to Lucky, and then peered around him, at the other stranger. She pressed her lips together and frowned. "Um hi to you too. How are you?" She asked, glancing between Lucky and the man who hadn't spoken yet.</s> <\|message\|>John Reynolds Valkyr took the hit from Chris and fell, but as soon as she hit the ground she was getting back up. She screamed at him and prepared to charge, but John tackled her back to the ground and shocked her with his batons. By now, people were screaming and running away from the library in panic. Valkyr kicked John off of her and sent him flying into Nice, resulting in a cracking-thud sort of sound. John moved slightly but didn't get up, one of his shock batons had fallen near Chris while the other was in the pile with him and Nice. Valkyr had gotten to her feet and grabbed a man who came out of the library, swinging him around to slam his face into the wall. The man was killed instantly as his skull fractured on impact, and then his lifeless body proceeded to be thrown at Chris by a screaming Valkyr.</s>	<\|message\|>Chris Jackson What is that thing, it's got me, it's got me, hurts- The dead man's pain was flung at Chris just as surely as his corpse was, and of the two was probably the more agonizing. A person's dying pain had always hit especially hard - his knees were buckling even before the body crashed into him, sending him sprawling to the ground, the hunter's and the victim's pain mingling with his own. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. One innocent was dead already, and it looked like more would follow, judging by the crowd of people spilling out of the library to catch a glimpse of the tumult. The hunter was still on the floor, in a heap with the girl with the closed-off mind. The monster was roaring now, frothing with rage. Something metal rolled against Chris's foot - one of the hunter's batons. He rose to his feet, a hand closed around the weapon. He couldn't fight the monster, that much was certain, but maybe someone could fend it off long enough to get the people away. What happened to him after that didn't matter. A sentence flashed into his mind as he tossed the weapon to the hunter. He hadn't been around the man long enough to be certain it was the sentence he needed, but if ever there was a time for a shot in the dark, this was it. "Get up, John! You can still save them!" With that done, he whipped around, baring his face at the crowd of humans and advancing on them quickly, waving his hands. Confusion at the scene unfolding turned into dread, horror, and nausea. People stumbled back, their hands over their eyes. There were screams of revulsion, fear, as he drew closer and closer to the crowd. "Run!" He screamed. "Leave!" They complied. With one mind, the crowd of humans turned and fled from him, fled back to the library, back inside, where they would be safe.</s>
<\|description\|>Chris Jackson Age: 22 Gender: Male Height: 5' 10" Eye Colors: Brown and Yellow Gift: Anyone in Chris's presence (within about six feet) feels a sharp sense of discomfort and a desire to get away from him (this doesn't apply if there's a barrier between the two). Anyone who looks at his face immediately gets a headache that gets more and more painful the longer the gaze is held. Additionally, he has a subconscious sense of other people's unhappiness – he can tell what's hurting them, and gets a vague idea of how to help. Bio: Chris was a normal boy in a normal town. His whole life, he'd always been something of a boyscout – he was down-to-earth, gentle, hardworking, and kind. He hated conflict, always tried to be a leader, and did his best to see the good in everyone. Though he may not have been the brightest bulb, he certainly had prospects; on his eighteenth birthday, he was just a few months away from heading off to college and beginning the next stage of his life. Naturally, that all changed when he woke up that morning with one yellow eye. Suddenly, nobody could stand him – not his friends, not his presence, not his community. People looked at the ceiling, or the floor, never at him, and all fled from him before long. But that wasn't all. He found that he could sense other people's hurts – their aches and fears, things they'd loved and lost. Not only that, but he found he could help them. Sometimes, he knew exactly what to say, or where to look, or what to give to lessen someone's unhappiness. Of course, as he stayed in his home town, the source of people's unhappiness more and more frequently was pointed at a single target: him. He knew exactly what he had to do to help, and he did it: he left without saying goodbye. For four years since then, he has traveled aimlessly, helping where he could, keeping away and out of sight as best as he was able, and avoiding those who would hunt him as long as he can. Other: Yes, the concept of the character is somewhat based on Cole from Dragon Age. It's also worth noting that he doesn't know if the headaches he causes are potentially lethal (they are, but only after a good while of staring).</s> <\|message\|>John Reynolds Blurred images of people running, muffled screams filling the air...the faint humming of a helicopter getting louder...getting closer. Looking back down at the ground...is that blood? Is that...my blood? John thought, a headache setting in as he moved to put his hands on the ground to push himself up. Suddenly an immense pain shot up his left arm, and John rolled onto his back and looked at his arm to see that it was broken. He slowly lifted himself up into a sitting position with one hand, looking over at the body of Nice. Blood had been pooling up beneath her, seeming to be pouring from her head. Oh shit...I hit her when I was thrown...her skull must have fractured when it hit the concrete. John thought as he stared at Nice's face in the puddle of blood...she almost looked asleep. John was soon snapped out of his trance when he heard and saw one of his shock batons hit the ground beside him, accompanied by Chris' rallying words. "Get up, John! You can still save them!" John offered no reply, and simply spat out blood before slowly rising to his feet. He took hold of his broken arm and shifted it back into place as best he could, grunting through his clenched teeth. A news helicopter had arrived on scene, which was doing a decent job of distracting Valkyr as she screamed up into the air. John picked up the shock baton that Chris had tossed at him, and put it away in his coat before picking up the other baton by Nice's body. "We've got to go...n-now! We won't be...a-any help...t-to these people if...if we're d-dead. We've got to...r-run...l-lead her away..." John tried to tell Chris as quickly as he could, before Valkyr could focus her attention back on the two of them. By now, this event was broadcasting live by the news helicopter, and sirens could be heard in the distance. John looked down the street and back at Chris. Valkyr then heard the sirens herself and snapped her head around to look dead at Chris and John. She growled menacingly as another set of vials raised out of the back of her suit, injecting the liquids they held into her body once more. "F-Fucking hell! W-We...n-need to go...N-NOW!" John shouted as he turned to run away, holding his broken arm with his good arm almost as if he was carrying a football. Once Valkyr's fresh set of vials had been ejected and fell to the ground, she released a bloodcurdling shriek. Whatever humanity she still had was now completely gone from her, as she continued to growl like she was some wolf defending her claim over a fresh kill.</s> <\|message\|>Chris Jackson Chris saw the remains of the girl's body a moment after John. She looked peaceful, pleased almost - a thin smile tugged at the corners of her still lips. He wondered, idly, what she had been feeling when he died, if she had been afraid, or sad, or if she had suffered long. He wasn't accustomed to not knowing, and now it seemed like he'd never have cause to be. For a moment, Chris glanced between the news chopper, the monster, and the girl's dead body on the ground. "...Right. Run. Run sounds good." Squinting from the helicopter's lights, Chris took off down the street, trusting that John would be following behind. "Follow me, I know a place where we can hide!" Without turning to see if the hunter had obeyed his directions, Chris turned into an alleyway. The place he had in mind wasn't far, but the path was long and twisting - with any luck, they'd lose the monster in the turns. And, failing that, at least the place was always empty - if he and the hunter couldn't shake their pursuers, at least nobody else would die.</s> <\|message\|>Miller Anderson Miller Anderson Becoming wide eyed and awed at the immense place at what he thought would be a dump, he whistles then says, "Wow, you really struck it big, this place is sweet. with a grin, he quickly set off to explore the area, he set off right before Cole could explain the area but Miller was enthralled by the place and quickly found one of the bedrooms. Placing his backpack down, and just admiring the place, he quickly took a change of clothes since his old ones were sweaty. Putting on his new clothes, he left the bedroom and looked around. He still couldn't believe the size of this suite, the Bathroom was nice, the Kitchen was huge, but what took him by surprise was the living room, it was sweet. Stumbling upon the Pool, on impulse he decided that he'd want to take a quick dip, removing his clothes to reveal hard rock abs... No who am I kidding he doesn't have any. Running back to his room, he luckily had boxers that were fit for swimming and he changed again and ran back to the pool and jumped it, yelling "CANNONBALL!"</s> <\|message\|>Cole Harland Cole had finished his last drink, the fourth, and was now sitting in the kitchen trying to determine his next course of action. Of course while this was going on he heard Miller yell, ""CANNONBALL!" from downstairs. That triggered a memory of Cole's last time here. What was happening now was almost exactly like last time. The only difference was Cole wasn't drinking the first time. Well at least not for the same reason. His memory reminded him of the youngest in the group, Alex. Alex was a lot like Miller, the only difference was that Alex knew when to shut up. Still so far Miller has proven to be an alright guy. His last group even had someone like Naddy...no, no one was like Josie. Cole tried hard to forget the memory of her. It was too painful to revisit, not after what happened. Cole got up from his seat in the kitchen and headed downstairs. Once he was near the pool Cole didn't wait for Miller's undivided attention he simply yelled, "Hurry up, we got a meeting in the living room real soon!". Cole headed back upstairs and sat back on the couch. He didn't waste time and immediately handed Naddy one of the 1911s. "Just incase", was all he said before grabbing the remote and turning the tv to the news. What he saw wasn't good news. There was...something terrorizing the nearby town. What it was exactly Cole had no clue but it wasn't the first time he saw something like this. The Hunters had used gifted before in strange experiments but it was the first time he'd seen one actually completed. From the looks of it that thing was pursuing Gifted no doubt. The problem was what course of action should be taken. Cole wanted to help as many Gifted as he could but that thing...was there even stopping that thing?</s> <\|message\|>Natalia "Naddy" Neapein Naddy looked over to Miller as he seemed quite excited. She was more excited by the prospect of having a comfortable bed at this moment. Getting up she removed her coat, her tank top showing all the tattoos down her arms, as well as the ones on her lower back and even comingup the the back of her neck. She fallowed Cole over to the kitchen and opened a cupboard pulling out a glass as she moved the fridge getting some ice. After that she moved over looking and finding the Bourbon. Pouring her self a glass she lifted it up to her mouth and took a sip of it. Smiling she felt that golden brown liquid flowing down her throat with that little tickle of a burn. "Now that is refreshing" She set down her glass sighing as she was able to relax for the first time in what seemed like months. She closed her eyes as she was taking sips of her drink. As she stood there a handgun was handed out to her her. With out even looking she grabbed it, dropping the clip she pulled the slide back and looked forward raising it up as she pulled the trigger. It clicked but since there were now rounds that was all it did as the slide locked back. "Nice, smooth action, quick response. You take care of your guns, the hammer is a little slow on the response." She released the slide lock as it slid forward and she pushed that magazine back up into it's home as she reached back pushing it into the back of her pants. "A holster would be nice" She added grabbing her coat and her drink heading into the living room after hearing cole talking about a meeting. She draped her coat over the back of the couch as she sat down leaning back into the nook of it and took another sip of her drink.</s> <\|message\|>John Reynolds John followed Chris as the two made their escape, running into the alleyway as the sirens got louder. You could hear the screech of tires, followed closely by the opening and slamming of car doors. There was a moment of shouting, accompanied by the whirring blades of the orbiting news helicopter. A ferocious scream then broke through the air as if the shouting of men and the whirring of the helicopter had only been little more than crickets chirping, capable of belonging to no one other than Valkyr herself. John slowed down and turned to look behind him as Valkyr pounced on an officer, beating his head into the pavement as a shock baton rolled out of his now lifeless hand. The other authorities reached for their sidearms, but Valkyr had already taken the one from the officer she had just killed and began to fire on the other men. Twelve gunshot rapidly rang through the air as four men fell to the ground, dead. The surviving officers took cover being the cars they had arrived in, and Valkyr began to look around frantically. She was doing something...she had an objective...but what? She growled almost as if out of pain, struggling to remember the man with the two shock batons. That was it! She was after him...but where did he go? Valkyr then looked down the alley way and saw a blur of movement disappear around the corner, taking it as a sign of her prey she then bolted off down the alley while the officers began to open fire on her from behind. Meanwhile, John had returned to running after Chris as fast as he could, grunting with every other step as he felt a throbbing pain in his broken arm.</s>	<\|message\|>Chris Jackson Chris felt all of it. The cracking, the tearing, the crying and the dying and the fear, pungent and mortal, all of it burst into his head as the men were torn apart by the monster. He screamed, fell to his knees, clutched his head with tears streaming from his eyes. One man was afraid when she tore at his throat, afraid to die - another was sad, very sad, because he had never seen the Eiffel Tower. One was guilty, because his son wouldn't be able to sleep without someone to read him bedtime stories. These feelings, these images, were the last things that would ever pass through the minds of those men - and now Chris would forevermore be the keeper of their dying days. He struggled to his feet and kept running, trying to shut out the pain as he had tried so often to before. It was a losing battle, but he could at least ignore it for now. Most days, he hated ignoring other people's pain; it felt selfish, irresponsible. But he needed to focus now - he needed to get to the stash of supplies he'd hidden, the little place he'd carved for himself during his short time in this city. There, he could think, he could rest, and the creature wouldn't be able to kill any more innocents. He was, of course, quite certain the place would be empty. Who ever went to train stations these days?</s>
<\|description\|>Cole Harland Age: 24 Gender: Male Eye Colors: Red and White Gift: Cole is capable of taking control of the living and the dead, specifically animals but humans as well if pushed hard enough though this can prove extremely dangerous as it causes him to fall unconscious after extended use. He is also capable of healing himself by leeching off the life force of a living organism. Bio: Cole is an abomination. His subconscious, a being of rage and malice, has been given life. Most of the time he is able to control it but occasionally in times of great duress Cole's inner evil, what he calls Dread, is capable of taking over. How Cole received this curse is unknown but when it started isn't. Dread's first appearance was when Cole was in his teens. Living with his alcoholic father and little sister Cole's only source of happiness was his sister. As a result when she was killed on her way home from a friend's home Cole was sent into a rage. Turns out his sister was not the only victim of the killer. Other girls had been targeted and Cole found the pattern in his activities. He was only 18 when he found the man who murdered his sister and when he did Dread was revealed. It siphoned the life out of the man and from that day on Cole was never the same. His outlooks on life and people were completely changed. Today Cole is a cynical and almost completely void of empathy. Cole's Theme</s> <\|message\|>Chris Jackson A monster. Betrayed, hunted, squeezing red ragged rips, running, can't kill it can't kill it can't kill it. The fear cracked into Chris's mind like a lightning bolt. Something was very, very wrong nearby. That was when he turned to see the bandaged man (now sans-bandage) sprinting towards him. On his tail was someone or something else, a woman in a red and black bodysuit, a collar around her neck. Another Gifted, he thought. One they'd made a slave of. "Go! Gogogogogo! NOW! Run! There's a fucking MONSTER after me!" "GET BACK HERE SO I CAN RIP YOU APART!" Now it was starting to make sense. The bandaged man was a hunter, or worked for hunters, and he'd known this thing was coming, or maybe he hadn't but he'd known something, and he knew that Chris and the girl were in danger. That's why he did what he did, but now he was in danger. The monster had hurt him, that much was clear from his pain and the dripping red holes in his arms. It would kill him if it could, and then the girl, and then Chris, and maybe other people too. Innocent people. All of these thoughts flashed through Chris's mind in the fraction of an instant it took the man's frantic pace to reach his position. Fortunately, his next action required no thought. None at all. With one hand he flung the scarf and glasses from his face and dropped them to the ground, along with his bag and guitar case. He took off running, running towards the monster, and slammed his shoulder into it from the side. "Go! Run! Get out of here, get away from the library, there are people in there!"</s> <\|message\|>Lucky Newman Lucky Newman Lucky smirked hearing where Thomas was from, though he was right about the putting on the accent that area. It was easier to get people to talk to people if you sounded like them. Though it was hard to fit in now, being Gifted stopped all chances of being normal and interacting with others. Though it was nice to be able to talk to someone like yourself, so talking to Thomas was nice. He didn't feel so alone but at the same time he was waiting for the knife in the back. It was a constant struggle in his head, he wanted to trust but the past betrayal was hard to get over. So simply put, he was on the fence about trusting. "I'm from Prince Edward Island, Canada." He said before chuckling softly before continuing, "If you heard my natural accent you would think I was someone fresh off the boat from Ireland or Scotland." He said with a smile remembering how heavy his accent was when he first was on the run, people thought he was from the old country. But he needed to blend in, that was when he met Siri.... He quickly shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts. He looked out the door of the old rail car when he noticed movement. "Be ready to make yourself unnoticeable Tom." He said lowly as he continued to look out for danger. As he watched a girl suddenly popped up from behind some old train parts, "Hi...I'm Lilith." The girl said with a slight smile on her lips. Lucky locked his eyes on her and stood still for a moment before jumping down from the old rail car. He could see that she was Gifted by her Jade and Maroon eyes, though he was going to be careful like he was with Thomas. He made his body rigid as he watched Lilith for a moment, he had to wonder if she was hunter. But as he watched her he noticed that her hair was wind blown and that she was slightly dirty, so she was mostly likely not a hunter as hunters were usually clean. "I'm Lucky." He said with a slight tension in voice but he didn't sound as threatening as he did with Thomas earlier. "You thirsty or hungry?" He asked though he was still weary of the new comer. He was glad to see another Gifted, but he was realizing that he was rusty in his communication skills. Damn you Siri! He thought as he held an arm out ushering Lilith to the old rail car that would give them some cover, for now at least. Maybe they could plan what to do next or in the very least get to know each other. But Lucky was waiting for the ax to drop and his luck run out.</s> <\|message\|>Cole Harland After exiting The Suite, Cole sat in the driver's seat of his car. This time there was music, only silence as he sat there trying to decide whether he was doing the right thing. Last time he tried something like this...it didn't end well. It seemed as though being around Cole was bad for people's health. The more he thought about it the more the memories of those he'd lost came back to him. It got to a point where it was too much and Cole punched the car stereo causing the display to crack and the dial to pop out again. Cole sighed as he sat back in his seat. "..What are you doing?". There was a silence as he rubbed his forehead, the pain in his knuckles had begun to fade but was still throbbing somewhat. That was when it happened, all those memories of his old friends came once again but this time instead of agony Cole felt a growing rage which added to the already existing pool of anger he had within him. The Hunters would pay for what they did to his friends, what they do to all Gifted. Starting now his crusade would begin, and those two down in The Suite would be the first out of many other gifted he'd recruit to exact revenge on those who oppressed his kin. "I don't usually let you out...but I cam tell it won't matter soon", of course Cole wasn't talking to himself. Technically he was but now it was a different being all together. Exiting the car Cole went to the back and opened up the trunk, inside was the same dufflebag from the gas station but instead of opening it he took it out with him along with one other bag which was for clothes. Once he was back inside The Suite he laid his clothes bag on hos bed and laid the duffle bag on the living room coffee table. Opening it revealed that it's contents were more than just money, inside were two Remington Colt 1911 R1 pistols and a G36C Assault Rifle. Cole laid the 1911s on the table but took the G36C with him to his room. Once inside the room he placed his rifle by the nightstand and headed back into the living room. He sat on the couch and turned on the tv.</s> <\|message\|>Lilith B. Smith Lilith looked at Lucky, her eyes widening. The offer of food and water made her lip quiver. The offer of shelter and company made her want to cry. She was so desperate for a place to stay, for people she could actually become friends with. So Lilith approached the train car without a second thought, she stood only a couple of steps away from Lucky now. If Lucky looked close enough, he would realize that Lilith's eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, her hair was disheveled, and her body was cleansed roughly, as though she had very little time to get clean. "T-thank you. That's very generous. I think I'll take you up on that offer." She understood this was generosity, and that he was offering it because she was desperate. Still though, she managed a bold smile, and reached out her hand. "What's your gift? We might as well exchange them, since we're going to be sitting in a train car for who knows how long." Her voice was a bis stronger although it was rough as if it hadn't been used often. She offered a hand to Lucky, and then peered around him, at the other stranger. She pressed her lips together and frowned. "Um hi to you too. How are you?" She asked, glancing between Lucky and the man who hadn't spoken yet.</s> <\|message\|>John Reynolds Valkyr took the hit from Chris and fell, but as soon as she hit the ground she was getting back up. She screamed at him and prepared to charge, but John tackled her back to the ground and shocked her with his batons. By now, people were screaming and running away from the library in panic. Valkyr kicked John off of her and sent him flying into Nice, resulting in a cracking-thud sort of sound. John moved slightly but didn't get up, one of his shock batons had fallen near Chris while the other was in the pile with him and Nice. Valkyr had gotten to her feet and grabbed a man who came out of the library, swinging him around to slam his face into the wall. The man was killed instantly as his skull fractured on impact, and then his lifeless body proceeded to be thrown at Chris by a screaming Valkyr.</s> <\|message\|>Chris Jackson What is that thing, it's got me, it's got me, hurts- The dead man's pain was flung at Chris just as surely as his corpse was, and of the two was probably the more agonizing. A person's dying pain had always hit especially hard - his knees were buckling even before the body crashed into him, sending him sprawling to the ground, the hunter's and the victim's pain mingling with his own. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. One innocent was dead already, and it looked like more would follow, judging by the crowd of people spilling out of the library to catch a glimpse of the tumult. The hunter was still on the floor, in a heap with the girl with the closed-off mind. The monster was roaring now, frothing with rage. Something metal rolled against Chris's foot - one of the hunter's batons. He rose to his feet, a hand closed around the weapon. He couldn't fight the monster, that much was certain, but maybe someone could fend it off long enough to get the people away. What happened to him after that didn't matter. A sentence flashed into his mind as he tossed the weapon to the hunter. He hadn't been around the man long enough to be certain it was the sentence he needed, but if ever there was a time for a shot in the dark, this was it. "Get up, John! You can still save them!" With that done, he whipped around, baring his face at the crowd of humans and advancing on them quickly, waving his hands. Confusion at the scene unfolding turned into dread, horror, and nausea. People stumbled back, their hands over their eyes. There were screams of revulsion, fear, as he drew closer and closer to the crowd. "Run!" He screamed. "Leave!" They complied. With one mind, the crowd of humans turned and fled from him, fled back to the library, back inside, where they would be safe.</s> <\|message\|>Natalia "Naddy" Neapein Naddy used her bike as seat as she un-zipped her coat and leaned on it. It took a few moments but it seemed like Chris wasn't to chatty at the moment. She sat there leaning against her bike when Cole walked back out side. "well it looks like our fearless leader has returned" Though as she spoke cole hadn't even walked out side as it took a few moments before he opened the door and walked out of the office and she turned back looking at the door. "We have the Presidential Suite" Cole said as she fallowed behind him, though it didn't much look like this place had much of any form of suite. Once she walked in she looked around the room. She had a little smile on her face tough. It looked like a dump, but she could feel the soft air current flowing through the room leading into the closet. She looked over at it as she stepped into the room. She kept quite though before soon he walked in and opened up that false door. She fallowed him down descending into the room and walking in behind him. She let out a whistle "Fancy digs Mr. Wayne" She said walking in and looking around the room "Now the real question. What's the bar like, and where is the pool table?" She walked further into the room before flopping down on the couch "I can get used to this" she said getting comfortable.</s>	<\|message\|>Cole Harland Sitting beside Naddy, Cole heard what she said about getting used to living here."Don't", he stated plainly before continuing "This place comes with a price from the both of you. Besides even if it didn't this might only be temporary, if the Hunter find this place we are either dead or out of here before they make us dead". Despite that bit of news being a bit of a killjoy it bothered Cole little. If these two were going to be a part of all this they had to work for their stay here. The work he had in mind wasn't an office job obviously, instead it was something not entirely legal. "...but to answer your question there should be drinks in the kitchen if not then oh well we'll have to go buy some. As for the pool table there is none, all we have is...well the pool". Cole got up from the living room couch and headed towards the kitchen, he needed a drink. Once in the kitchen he searched the cabinets for what he was looking for. Last time he was here he hid a bottle of Grey Goose Vodka for himself incase he returned. Fortunately it was still there and after adding some ice to his glass he added the Grey Goose and instead of sipping it Cole just downed it. He filled his glass again, this time holding it up for a second before drinking it as if he was cheering. It was clear that he was drinking for more than himself. An observation confirmed once he said out loud, "This one's for the old crew...".</s>
<\|description\|>Thomas Barnett Age: 21 Gender: Male Height: 6' 3" Eye Colours: Green and blue Gift: Can become "unnoticeable". If he wants, he can make it so that people do not "see" him, even though he is still completely visible. For example, if he slaps someone, they will notice him. Bio: Thomas was born to a relatively normal family in a relatively normal neighborhood. He grew up leading an uneventful life, until his eighteenth birthday, however. When he woke up, he looked in the mirror, and saw that one of his eyes had changed colour to blue. He thought it was just the light, or because he was tired. In school that day, though, he got angry at someone, and went to the toilets to calm down. Because of all of the attention he was getting, he didn't want to be noticed, and then people stopped noticing him, unless he interacted with them. At first, he thought this was a joke, but it kept happening, whenever he wanted it to. He has now been on the run for a few months because people have been following him.</s> <\|message\|>Cole Harland Cole started the ignition but stopped and stared at Miller after hearing him say, "Onward my faithful steed..". There was a moment of awkward silence before Cole shook his head,"I can tell you're gunna be a pain in my ass already". Without another word he put the car in drive and began speeding off onto the highway. With the dial back in its proper place Cole turned on the car stereo and pressed play, His favorite song came on and Cole began to hum along to lyrics. "Kind of like the old days..", he thought as he glanced in the rear view mirror at Naddy. He chuckled a bit because the old days were actually just a few years ago. After a bit of driving on the highway Cole exited off and drove into the parking lot of a motel. "I'll go get us a room. You can go talk to your girlfriend now", Cole said to Miller with a sinister grin. He got out of the car and headed into the guest sign in. The guy at the counter was shady looking, not the dirty homeless drug addict kind of shady but the kind of shady you'd see in a guy who was about to take someone hostage. Cole walked up to the desk and shook the man's hand, the two were well acquainted. "Well if it ain't Cole Harland. Didn't think I'd see you again, not after what happened at Haven", the man was gifted which was told by the mismatched eye colors. "Yeah...I was lucky to get out, you still got the room for me Brennan?" "Of course, the 'Presidential Suite', for an old friend", Brennan leaned to the side of Cole and looked out the window to see Miller and Nadia. "What you starting up another-" "Making new friends. Now, the keys?", Cole held out his hand and shortly after a silver key fell into his palm. "Sure thing boss, sure thing..", Brennan sat back in his chair after handing Cole the keys and began to read a..rather revealing magazine. Cole grinned slightly and headed out, "Same old Brennan".</s> <\|message\|>Natalia "Naddy" Neapein Naddy watched Coles little display of his power "Oh Mr. dark' She said as soon they both walked back into their car and started it up. She zipped up her coat and pulled her helmet over her head before stuffing her hair up inside of it. She soon had turned the key and hit to the starter as the bike fired up coming to life. She looked back to see the pair already pulling away "Give a girl some time to pull out at least" she muttered to her self before she popped it in gear and pulled the throttle. She swung the back end out and burned out in her spot turning the bike before she was soon off. It didn't take long before she was fallowing the pair. Riding behind them she decided to have some fun while riding. Soon enough she pulled up along side of them and hit the clutch while down shifting two gears, once she let out and hit the gas her front in lifted off the ground. Riding along side them with her front wheel up she pulled a head before hitting her back brake softy to lower the front wheel slowly and pulling up behind them. She stayed behind them, riding back and forth in her lane and pulling up in front of them for a few miles before pulling back. She popped the front up a few times more as well, mostly out of boredom. After a bit they were pulling into a motel as she soon pulled along side them. Sitting up she streached before taking off her helmet and setting it down on her fuselage and leaning against it "My my, cheap motel. You two sure do know how to make a girl feel special". She leaned back again looking around as Cole got out of the car leaving them. She kicked a leg over her bike as she used it as a seat "guess it's just me and you then." she said looking to Miller sitting in the passenger seat of the car.</s> <\|message\|>Miller Anderson Miller Anderson "I can tell you're gunna be a pain in my ass already" utters Cole, "You'll hurt my feelings man." he replies with a fake sob. Driving through the thick and unmanaged road, Cole opened up some tunes, back from his old war days Miller presumed. All of a sudden, Naddy begins to start having fun by herself on the road, doing some nasty tricks that could probably kill if it wasn't her driving. "Man I am stuck with Mr. Grumpy over here listening to his old war tunes. Miller grumbles out loud, putting his hand on his chin, and his elbow outside the window. He had watched Naddy the whole time to pass the time, and boy, was she free spirit and wild. Pulling up the old and rather shady runway, "Uhm, you sure this is where we have to sto- he says, but then was cut off by Cole leaving the car. "It is." he said with a frown. "I'll go get us a room. You can go talk to your girlfriend now" says Cole, with Miller replying "Oh wow, so you can tease if you try!" he says back to him as he walks into the shady building, face full of smiles. "My my, cheap motel. You two sure do know how to make a girl feel special" Naddy utters, "Well it's not my idea of a first date either." he replies back with a Banter, grinning ear to ear at her. Staying situated in his seat, he tried ruffling through some of his cds but only found sound weird tunes, "What does Cole listen to." he says outloud. Naddy getting out of her vehicle, in the eyes of Miller, this was a very 'sexy' act. "guess it's just me and you then." she says, "I guess so!" he replies with another smirk "I would ask some teasing thing by now, but I wanna know, why all the tats? I mean they look sexy n' all but, can't help wonder." he asks with a raised eyebrow.</s> <\|message\|>Thomas Barnett Thomas was thankful that it was a gifted who he had found, and that he didn't mind other gifted. Or, at least, that's what Thomas thought. Thomas put his arms down, and listened to the person, who he now knew to be called Lucky, tell him what his gift was. Making people forget you could be useful, but Thomas liked his own power better. Lucky asked Thomas his name, "I'm Thomas," he said, "Nice to meet you," Then, Lucky asked Thomas what his gift was, "I can make people not notice me," he told Lucky, "But only if they're not already looking at me."</s> <\|message\|>Greg Manie Kithra Moore "No problem Kirtha, although I haven't thought about my plans this far. Im sorry, but what do you think we should do? I don't mind you staying here if you want, I can fit up to three other people including me, so there is plenty of space in here but what would you like to do? I don't want to sound controlling or anything like that but I want to see whats comfortable with you and what you want to do" His question was rather straight forward and caught Kithra off guard, but then her guard was easy to topple. As he spoke she felt her mind go foggy again which was slightly annoying, though she was glad for it as it kept her from worrying too much. She cocked her head to the side as he gave her a stern look, she wasn't sure why he was looking her like that. Did she look like she wasn't going to take him seriously? Maybe she did, she was often told she looked like she didn't believe anyone. Well it served her well this far, even though she didn't mean to look that way. She looked down at her feet and bit her lip before looking up with her head still cocked to the side, with her damp hair hanging. "Call me Kitty." She said softly as she smiled. She wasn't sure what they should do let alone what she should do. Though she was sure that she wanted him to call her Kitty, as her name sounded funny coming from him. Maybe it was his mind gift or maybe she was just feeling comfortable, both of which were dangerous and she knew it. But she just wanted to be safe and who ever could protect her she would most likely stay with, since she had no survival skills. She knew that if she stayed she would be well cared for and for the moment safe. She shook her head and refocused on Damien and his silver and silvery blue eyes. "I would like to stay, but only if its okay with you." She paused biting her lip before continuing, "As to what we should do next I'm unsure, maybe wait here or depending on how long you have been staying here we should move." She said as she moved to sit in the passenger seat. She sat so her back was up against the door so she was looking at Damien, she was glad that he found her as she might of been caught or killed or died of the elements. So she felt like she owed him though she was unsure what to do for him. I could make a cake.... Wow that sounds stupid! Right make him a cake Kitty, you would look like a tool! She thought to herself as she felt her cheeks go pink at the thought. Maybe I could dance? She thought again and suddenly realized that he didn't ask her what her gift was. Most Gifted would want to know the others gift right off the bat, but he hadn't asked her. She suddenly had a new respect for him. --- Lucky Newman Lucky smirked and nodded before relaxing, after realizing that Thomas didn't mean him any harm. So far this was good he didn't have to be on the defensive, which was becoming tiring. One could only hold out for so long before the fight became too much, maybe if he had others with him it wouldn't be so bad. But he once trusted someone and that whole relationship ended horribly, he vowed never to trust someone fully. Sure he would trust them enough so that he felt a bit safe, but he would always keep an eye out to see if they were going to betray him. Damn Regulars, fucking up everything up! He thought before refocusing on Thomas. "Okay, that gift isn't to bad if you wanted to steal something or what ever.... Where are you originally from?" He asked in a more relaxed tone to let the other guy know that he wasn't a threat. "You hungry? Come on lets get out of the open and head over to the rail cars." He said as he waved Thomas to follow him. He existed the old station house and looked around to make sure that the way was clear and that no one was around to watch them. He quickly walked across the platform onto and across the tracks to reach the old rail cars. Once he reached the rail car he was using he threw open the door and jumped in and waited for Thomas to jump in, all the while he kept his eyes open for danger. He seriously felt like a meerkat, one standing guard while others did their thing. Maybe that's what us Gifted should be.... If only we could all trust each other. He thought as he continued to look out. --- Greg Manie The sound of his chains and the sound of marching feet was all that Greg could hear as the Regulars marched him to death. He was going to die, all because he was resistant to the efforts of the military that wanted to use him against his own people. He rather be put to death then become a weapon for the enemy, and he was. He smiled darkly at the thought that they couldn't break him, couldn't bend him to their will. I bested you and because you are afraid of me, you will destroy be. He thought as they continued to march, he could see the aura's of the men around him and he could tell that they were relieved that he was going to die but they were also afraid that he would do something. But alas, he could do nothing but march to his death. Forgive these men, as they are weak and do not know that they are fools. He silently prayed as they marched. One, Two, their steps went. One, Two. One, two. One, two. One, two. The lights went out... Greg didn't even have to think as he let his body move, he hit the guard infront of him then ducked as the two guards took out their electric sticks and went to hit him. But instead they ended getting each other, the two guards convulsed then fell to the floor. Without thinking he kicked out behind himself and got the other guard in the groin. He grabbed the electric stick from the down guards and turned quickly striking the rear guard in the face. The guard fell, his head bleeding badly. Greg turned again to face the front guard that had composed himself. Greg beared his teeth in a crazed smile, he went to strike the guard but he was stopped. Without thinking he head butted the guard then he struck out again this time the electric stick embedded itself in the guards shoulder. Greg watched as the guard convulsed and fell, he wasn't going to live that much Greg knew. He quickly searched the guards for a key before he unlocked his chains. He was free and he didn't care who he had to kill in order to get out of the complex. The Regulars will wish they never fucked with me!</s>	<\|message\|>Thomas Barnett Thomas followed Lucky, jumping into the train cart when he was told. He was cautious about telling Lucky where he was from, but he might as well say it, it wouldn't harm him, "I moved over here from North Carolina a few years ago," he told him, "But I put on an accent. It's easier to fit in if you sound like everyone else." Thomas sighed, remembering happy memories of North Carolina, "My grandparents are from Europe - Scandinavia and Ireland - that's why I've got this hair and skin," Thomas gestured to his hair. "So, where're you from?" he asked.</s>