[System]
* Age: 16(oh no...)
* Appearance: "This would be awkward enough without everything else!"
* Gender: Female(aaaah)
* Personality: Matsuoka Ryouji is not happy with this situation. Suddenly remembering her original age and name the day of entry into Starveil was a traumatic experience at best, realizing not only was she a girl now but she was the heroine of Cross Heart Academy on top of it. She has absolutely no interest in any of the romantic routes and is desperate to avoid them. After all, regardless of what she is now, she was a straight man prior to reincarnation.

A bunch of varied bishonen are not on her list of romantic interests. A sarcastic and easily-exasperated person, Anne was quick to comment on things that bugged her about the game's world and characters in her past life and she is still liable to do so now. She's also quite concerned with what the future may hold, given her experience with the game itself. Of course, no matter her past memories and experiences, it can be denied that she is also the game character, Anne Marielle, in addition to Matsuoka Ryouji. Some of Cross Heart Academy's Heroine's kindness and willingness to help others has almost certainly remained, perhaps due to the fact that in spite of Ryouji's bitter attitude he wasn't completely without those impulses in the first place.

The fact is that ultimately, Anne's attitude isn't exclusively informed by her past life's memories and experiences, even if those take the forefront. New personal connections are something she cherishes deep down, both due to Ryouji's loss of the few he had in his old life and Anne's friendly and caring disposition. Perhaps it's also due to the fact that, despite her many negative comments about the game's cast, she truly can't say she disliked any of them, especially as the writing got stronger towards the middle and end of the plot. Still, she is absolutely not interested in any of the game's romantic routes. Flags are to be avoided at all costs.
* Abilities/Skills: Lacking in many practical skills save maybe decent cooking ability, it's likely the designers of the game wanted Anne not to excel in too many things to avoid her starting to feel a little far away from the average person. However, it is later revealed that she has incredibly impressive magical power and an aptitude for holy spells, something she is already aware of due to her previous life.
* History: Matsuoka Ryouji was something of a loner, a young university student who had never really had many friends in life. But he did have some positive relationships, and in spite of a rather bitter attitude he got on very well with his young high-school age sister. Even if their relationship wasn't always smooth, it turned out that they had a similar sense of humor in spite of her far brighter and cheerier demeanor, and her interest in video games(primarily otome games) was useful for his desire to get into game development.

This is likely why she came to him with an otome game she was struggling with, due to a surprising difficulty spike towards the midpoint. Ryouji spent much of the early game mocking the writing choices and decision trees, but as things went on he did come to like the characters as the writing grew stronger. And when the game transitioned from a pure VN to a remarkably challenging SRPG with surprisingly engaging story beats, he couldn't deny he was actually enjoying his time with the game. Eventually he beat it alongside his sister, and while he didn't exactly want to say he liked an otome game that much it was difficult to deny it. Unfortunately for Ryouji, a car accident would end his current life when he used his own body to shield his sister's. She survived, but he did not, and...
She would wake up as the sixteen-year-old Anne Marielle, protagonist of the otome game she had completed the day prior.
* Original Role and Background: Anne Marielle is friendly, kind, and mildly airheaded girl from a very minor, barely-existent noble family with no prestigious history and basically no reptutation, that was in decline already due to the death of her father and loss of a considerable amount of wealth. Considered a commoner in the eyes of the other students who only entered the school due to what they perceived as pity, her life at the academy life started with her being disregarded and bullied. However, due to her kindness and willingness to help others, she found herself attracting the attentions of a certain set of male students...
From there, in Ryouji's case, things escalated into a rather emotionally intense and dramatic route culminating in a a battle that decided the fate of the world.
* Other:

[User]
Cervantes Quixote

Today was the entrance ceremony. The time and day the heroine would finally arrive at the school and begin her journey. An epic tale that entranced many who played Cross Heart Academy. Too bad, before he died, Cervantes wasn't too invested in the story. After his first few playthroughs, Cervantes ended up skipping the cutscenes unless they were mandatory.

Though, unlike the heroine, Cervantes couldn't attend the speech. It was because he was here as a merchant rather than the majority of people who were students. Apparently, before transmigrating into this body, Cervantes decided to set up shop after getting permission from the school.

"Hey, Cervantes!" The merchant's eyes darted towards the voices that called him from a stall. To be precise, it was one of the shop NPCs, 'Joe Smith. Cervantes smiled and waved back at the man before continuing his walk. Despite spending some time inside this 'game,' it felt weird. Everything was life-like in comparison to playing it on a screen. The many background character had a life that a console couldn't replicate.

Waving at another shopkeeper, Cervantes stopped nearby a fountain. The pristine and clear water reflected an unfamiliar face. Taking a bronze coin out of the pouch, Cervantes tossed it into the fountain. "Please give me good fortune," Cervantes muttered to himself. He needed it. When he first woke up as the nameless shopkeeper, Cervantes couldn't tell if this was a weird dream. He still needed to get over the fact that he was inside the game.

Now that the game was his reality, was he supposed to treat it as a game or as his new reality? Such a conundrum greatly confused Cervantes.

"Though, that'll have to wait," Cervantes muttered. Depending on how things went in the future, he'd react accordingly. The first on his agenda was to deal with his first task—the Heroine. After the entrance ceremony speech, the heroine, Anne Marielle, would explore the school. It didn't matter in what order she visited, but she would show up at the shopping area of the school.

From there, the shopkeeper, Cervantes, would lead the heroine around and show the shops. There was a 100% chance of the meeting happening in the game because it was a tutorial, but if this were slightly realistic, there wouldn't be a need to meet each other. The heroine could explore by herself without his help.

"Though what if I do meet the heroine?" If that were the case, then the odds of this being a simulated game would increase by a margin. Not to mention what if the heroine was controlled by a player? Would the heroine speak as some sort of vessel for the player? So many questions, but answers. Regardless, Cervantes resolved to talk to the heroine if the case arose.

His life was at stake, after all.

[Assistant]
Elastasia

Ribbon... check. Stockings and shoes... check. Hair neatly brushed (and even years after gaining a second lifetime's worth of memories, the ease with which magic simplified dealing with that still gave her a warm feeling), and not all done at the last second because she'd gotten too wrapped up in a book to remember. For once, Elastasia had managed to prepare for and show up to an event without prompting! Okay, it was also a huge event everyone at the academy was going to, which made it hard to miss, but she could still have ignored all that and missed the ceremony.

But then she would miss seeing Terys on his first day, relegating the younger boy to trying to seek her out somewhere amidst the school. For all his diligence, he didn't know the way around just yet. Besides, she missed the years where they'd see each other daily (even if the her that missed them wasn't the same as the her of now), it'd be a great opportunity to say hello.

Actually listening to the speech, Elastasia wished that she had chosen to skip after all. Not only was it boring and denied her the chance to read, being situated at the back with all the other third-year students meant that she couldn't see anything. Bored face after bored face in every direction, a speech regurgitated by rote to the point she was sure some of the better orators here could copy it verbatim...

It wasn't a fun experience, all in all.

Nor was fighting against the current of people leaving the courtyard, the occasional too-tall boy walking into her and having to make a hasty apology. Really, it was bad enough that by the time she actually got to the first years, the area was half emptied already, and trying to find her also-short brother amidst this sea of giants.

So, she relocated to just outside the entrance instead. Maybe Terys would have better luck finding her.

Hmm... already, there were a few familiar faces, bringing to mind how significant the upcoming year would be. That green-haired mop was undoubtedly the tutorial merchant, liable to run into the heroine soon more often than not. Whether he'd be quite as helpful in reality as in the game was debatable; a few of the individuals she'd met seemed quite distinct from their written personalities--Serrica always stood out as being rather different, for whatever reason.

And there was no way to tell what actual personality Anne would come into the world with. Bland? Exciting? Her looks were Elastasia's type, as generic as they were, but she hoped to avoid any hopeless confessions in her actual life.


[System]
Age: 24
Gender: Female
Nationality: Canadian
Description: Born and raised in bumfuck-nowhere, Manitoba, Mags' choice in hobbies were severely limited. By some extreme luck, her father was quite a figure in professional sports. He also had a horrible sense of money from the fact that he was paid in amounts that included 6 zeroes and everything he used came from some form of sponsorship. Thus, longing for the old days of his childhood (and living in his dream home), he paid an ISP to pipe a spicy cable from the city all the way to his home just so he could play his ancient FPS games without any lag.

As a result, Mags grew up wired to the internet. Not like there was anything else she could do, after all. Bumfuck-Nowhere, Manitoba wasn't exactly a shining example of metropolitan life. From the age of 6, she was already on the MMO grind. By 15, she was raiding the hardest tiers of content with the best of them. Only a sunken-cost fallacy in other games could delay her entry into Cacophony Concord.

One could call Mags an agoraphobic poop-socker. They wouldn't be that wrong, either. She rarely leaves the house she never moved out of. Her job is entirely telecommuted. Personality wise, she isn't the most stable and lovable person. Being raised on the internet, she lacks much of the communication skills a normal person makes. She's toxic much of the time, but spending so much time raiding has turned her into a decent (albeit crass) leader.

Her appearance is pretty par for the coarse for someone like her. Her skin is a mildly unhealthy pale. Her hair is constantly messy and her eyes have deep bags from a lack of sleep. She has a bit of chub on her, but a lack of eating much has in her physique being more small if anything.

If someone were to see her in as a fresh spawn, they'd instantly see a tryhard that moves with purpose.

Username: Magpie
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Height: 150 cm
Weight: 55 kg
Voice Pitching: 0
Decorations: Scars litter Magpie's arms and body. Mostly because they're cool.
Appearance: Magpie's appearance is based on her recurring MMO character design and as such, shares nothing in common save for height.
HP – 400
MP – 30
SP – 400
STR – 136
AGI – 50
END – 50
DEX – 50
LUC – 30Classes: Brawler +10% HP | +15% STR | +5% END
Improvised Weapon Proficiency LVL 1
Set equipped weapon's damage bonus to ½ STR if damage bonus is less than ½ STR.

The [Magpie] Special
Swing wide for a powerful, but inaccurate whallop.

Showbaiter
Passive. Enemy aggro increases for every hit taken and every hit received.

The Guillotine Drop
Active. 30% SP cost. Leap past your target while grabbing them by the throat. Upon landing, slam them headfirst into the ground. Inflict Silence. Damage dealt increases with airtime.

The Power Hour
Active. 5% SP cost per attack. Unleash a flurry of wild blows, generating enough force to push away all individuals except for the target of your attacks. Push-back effect increases with more attacks launched.

The Bulldozer
Active. 25% SP cost. Enter a Counter Stance, with greatly increased defenses. When attacked, lose increased damage and instantly leap towards the attacker with greatly increased movement speed to bodyslam them.

Grab and Smash LVL 1
Passive. Toggleable. Damage dealt by Improvised Weapons is dealt to the Improvised Weapon as well. Weapon gains additional damage bonus equal to ½ STR.

Physical Conditioning LVL 1
Passive. Gain 10% STR.

Hustle Muscle
Active. 20% SP per round. Strike a pose that emphasizes your leg muscles, before increasing your AGI by 20% of your STR.

Protein Power
Active. 10% SP. Utilizing your knowledge of muscular arts, manifest a Protein Shake that heals for 100 HP and grants 30 STR upon consumption. Cannot be used in combat. Only one Protein Shake can exist at any one time.

Moon Flex
Active. 5% SP. Bend over, facing away from your targets to show off your muscular glutes, with a chance of taunting them. Efficacy increases if you have higher STR than the targets.

Nobody's Natty LVL 1
Passive. Improve the healing and STR-enhancing effects of consumables by 10%. Reduce STR-debuffing effects by 10%.

Healthy Body, Healthy Mind
Active 15% SP. The brain is a muscle, and that means it can be flexed as well. Increase Max MP and Current MP by 10*(20% of STR) for this round. If [Smartman] is one of your jobs, increase by 50% of STR instead.

We All Lift Together
Active. 50% SP. Become an avatar of muscle, doubling your STR for this round and inspiring all allies within thirty meters to greater heights of muscle as well, increasing their STR by 10% of your STR. After usage of this skill, take true damage equal to your STR.

Path of Macho LVL 1
Passive. Every monster you kill that is of greater or equal level to you has a small chance of increasing your base STR by 1. Every Anomaly that you kill increases your base STR by 100.

Empty Hands, Open Mind LVL 1
Passive. When weapons are not equipped, SP regeneration per round is 120% of END.

Invigorating Palm Thrust
Active. 15% SP. Coat your open palm with Qi, before pressing it into the target, mending their body and soothing their soul. The target regenerates HP equal to 5% of your Max SP for three rounds.

Vein-Sealing Acupuncture
Active. 30% SP. Perceive the meridian lines within your target, before delivering a burst of finger jabs to seal away their powers. Inflicts [Silence] upon the target for one round, preventing the consumption of Resources. Repeated use of this skill upon a target reduces efficacy.

Perception: Anime
Gore: On
Pain Setting: 10%
Clothing Damage: On
Nudity Censor: Personal
Profanity Censor: Off
Combat Action: Manual
Spell Incantations: Manual

Helmet:
Armor:
Arm Equipment:
Main Hand:
Off Hand:
Leg Equipment:
Shoes:

Accessory 1:
Accessory 2:
Accessory 3:
Accessory 4:Inventory Type: Basic

Inventory Capacity: 20

List
[Item]Shovel - Uncommon Weapon/tool
[Item]Pickaxe - Uncommon Weapon/tool
[Item]Token of the White Tiger - Rare Special Item - Grants access to ???
[Item]Wrestler's Loincloth - Common Accessory - +10 HP, +5 STR
[item]Devil-Horned Battlemask - Rare Helmet - +50 HP, +50 SP, +10 END - If HP is above 50%, lose 5% of your Max HP per round. If HP is at or below 50%, gain 10% of Max SP per round. If HP is at or below 20%, gain +40 STR.
[Item]White Snake's Robes - Uncommon Armor - +5 AGI, +10 LCK - Improves Stealth by 15% when travelling on hard surfaces.
[Item]Beasthide Gown - Common Armor
[Item]Beasthide Bracers - Common Arm Equipment
[Item]Thornspike Boots - Common Shoes
6553 Rishi
Type Territory, First Stage

+10% AGI

Upon evocation, the territory around you transforms into a sandstone platform, submerged in warm, turquoise-blue seawater, which fades away at the edges of your territory. Every powerful blow you or your opponents connects with elicits an enthusiastic reaction from a spectral crowd, who swirl around the perimeter of your territory like a heat mirage.

Territory Creation
Activates at will. Consumes 10% of your Max SP to maintain. At First Stage, creates a ten meter by ten meter square zone centered on yourself. Can not be moved, unless Territory Creation is cancelled and re-established.
Dancin' in the Moonlight
While inside your Territory, become immune to all negative status effects induced by physical attacks, such as being knocked back, restrained, blinded, or bled. There are no visible indications of injury when sustaining damage. Magically-induced status effects will still affect you.

[User]
Ari Reina Caladis(Theresa)
HP – 2(20)
MP – 3(30)
SP – 5(50)
STR – 10
AGI – 20
END – 5
DEX – 25
LUC – 10
Maiden's sling, rocks, grass monkey's fist(stone).
Uploaded Image
Username:Ari Reina Caladis
Race: Cat
Gender: Female
Height: 142cm
Weight: 40kg
Voice Pitching: -2
Decorations:
Appearance: No real equipments yet, but looks like the picture just with more drab turtleneck and long skirt combo.Classes: NonePerception: Anime
Gore: On
Pain Setting: 20%
Clothing Damage: On
Nudity Censor: Off
Profanity Censor: Off
Combat Action: Manual
Spell Incantations: Manual

---

She shook off the monkey fist off the sidewalk above, and rewound it around her arm, squinting into the darkness of the culvert beyond. Ari already knew of the general direction of the hideout, but getting there wouldn't be easy in the darkness. Well, it was sure to become more bearable once her eyes got used to the low light, but she suspected she was going to need to rely on her other senses to determine her directions.

It was exciting enough that fact she might be standing in a rivulet of waste was more bearable to think of. Perhaps not being able to see very well was a blessing in disguise.

She remembered well the atmosphere of the den she was going to infiltrate, the raucous laughter, the jeerings and swears as money changed hands. All she had to do was listen to it to see if she was going in the right direction, keep her sense of direction straight, and not get lost. At least she knew how to escape if she was lost; just stick a hand in the flowing water if it came to that and follow the flow. Ignoring the weird slippery squelchy feeling the floor had, Ari moved briskly towards her goal, careful not to cause more noise than the flow of water did.

[Assistant]
HP 110/110 SP 100/100 MP 100/00

---

Lew nodded as Shirin explained the faith's beliefs surrounding monsters. It was good that this religion wouldn't get in the way of his goals, especially since they-

Wait, did the priestess just say the worship a snakegirl?

As Lew made his way into the chambers with Shirin, his suspicions were truly proven correct. It seems the object of this religion's worship is, in fact, a snakegirl. Such prospects filled Lew with a new excitement for religion that he had never once had before. As he was asked to kneel, he had quickly done so, surrendering himself to this higher power. As he had done so, Lew wondered if this afterlife entailed his bones getting crushed...

Once his indoctrination was complete, Lew opened his eyes slowly. He wasn't entirely sure what he had experienced, although there was one thing that was certain. Lew felt more free, more liberated from the shackles and expectations of life. Lew was almost sure that if he didn't know this was all a game, he would have definitely converted in real life as well. Bowing his head once more to the idol, Lew sat up straight and turned towards Shirin.

"I'm ready for my training, now."

Wherever he would be led to, Lew wondered just how he'll be equipped and, more importantly, if he would receive a uniform more fashionable than whatever it is he started with.


[System]
Alias: Echo

Age:
Taalunia Age: 74 Mercuron Passes
Earth Age: 17

Personality: While initially very stoic, Marilyn has a tendency to 'Reflect' the personalities of others around her on instinct. This is a given trait with her race and has allowed for their survival when unbidden circumstance came to greet them. She is very observant, settling for listening rather than talking, and not holding back on her customs of honesty when provoked for advice. A quick learner, Marilyn is known for her durability and fast thinking when times get rough--a perk when your head is usually clear of most human distraction. As time goes on, she has the potential to warm up to or to become bitter about her situations, and will find time to express it where others might find it uncharacteristic of previous actions.She is obsessed with the color red.

Powers: Hyalokinesis, or put simply, glass control... to an extent. Marilyn is able to transverse/teleport to different areas on Earth using mirrors or large glass windows and to date has yet to show a limit of distance, also able to see through smaller 'windows' (i.e. looking through a compact mirror will result in the possibility of spying on master plans. On the offense, the only 'glass' Marilyn can control is her own organic material--her blood. By making decent sized lacerations on her skin, she can create glass weapons or projectiles to be used to attack those who would strike her. She can also use it free form.

Weakness: Due to Marilyn's body literally working with liquid glass pumping all out through her body, she is incredibly heavy for her petite size. Her weight is similar to that of a fully stocked vending machine. Considering she also uses her blood to attack, it's also an issue of fatigue coming in fast and thus weakening her greatly. (On the upside of this fatigue however, her body is lightened by the removal of the heavy blood and her speed is greatly augmented)

Appearance:

(crappy sketch I did of her in her superhero outfit like ages ago)

Marilyn is colorless, her blood gives her no pigment aside from the metallic sheen in her eyes. Most of the clothing she wears has sensible floral patterns and she wears a single chain-circlet with a crimson metal flower upon it. Note the open spots on her forearms on her costume, where she could provide her skin lacerations to create her weapons without being obstructed. The back is more open as well to provide quick defense from an ambush.

Bio: In brief, Marilyn comes from a planet known as Taalunia where the people are made up of a variety of metals, stones, and other elements. When her city is overrun by space pirates, she is made into a slave with her best friend Karmina. While she is subjected to a few humiliating tasks, her friend gets the worse end of it and changes completely. Cautiously following her friend's instructions, they are able to escape their situations via escape pod, but are forced into different containers when they are spotted, and thus are separated from one another. Marilyn lands in the middle of New York City's Central park, where she moves quickly to evade the eyes of strangers. Currently she wanders aimlessly, not knowing what to do and hoping to find her friend.

Arc Ideas:
-Karmina's return
Taalunians, specifically more so her species, adore the coveted color red. And what's more red than human blood?
-Space Pirates Homing Beacon
Marilyn has escaped her imprisonment, but at what cost?

Other: Titans Forever

Here is her original character sheet I made for her. It has more information about Taalunians and a better, more in depth description of Marilyn, at least I think so.
Name:
Real name is unpronounceable by Human Tongues, But goes but the name of...
Marilyn

Age:
Taalunia Age: 74 Mercuron Passes
Earth Age: 17

Gender:
Female [-]
Taalunians are Asexual beings that procreate through 'metal letting' but appears to be Female

Appearance:

Taalunia standards

All people on Taalunia, the planet Marilyn resides from, are deprived of color. Their world is a mix of nothing but white, grey, black, and the intense, rare and highly sought out, red. Thus, Marilyn is quite average for a Taalunian, white pure white skin and white hair with clothes just as pale as she. However, there is one single flower piece in her hair that her mother gave her for her birthpassing, in Marilyns favorite color, red.

Skills:
-Standard Taalunia Defensive training. Intermediate
-Standard Taalunia Minor Intergalactic Knowledge
-Increased Intelligence capacity than normal humans
-Standard Increased Flexibility to sometimes impossible seeming proportions (to Humans)

Powers:

-Reflective Travelling-
Marilyn can travel through mirrors, see what is on the other side, or walk between reflective surfaces. It was a common form of travel on Taalunia and she does it naturally here as well.

-Metal letting-
All Taalunians 'blood' is nothing but liquid metal. Upon slicing her arm she is able to form blades from this life substance and use it to attack foes, whether its forming blades, metal whips, armor, etc. Too much of this cause weakness from blood loss. Cannot control metal matter outside of what is organic to Taalunia. This is their end all to everything. To make life, they metal let with whom they most adore to create a new Taalunian, and to take life the attack each other with their life fluid.

-Eyes of the Otherworld-
The ability to see otherworldly beings on different planets is a given from Taalunians as well. When a Taalunian rusts (yes, that is how they grow old and die) their conscious mind has to be delivered to the Otherworld by a living escort. It's not uncommon for family members to escort their dead's consciousness by themselves. Allows for seeing spirits on the human world as well.

Personality:
Initially, Marilyn appears to be stoic and a complete stick in the mud. However, after time you'd grow to learn that Taalunian emotion is shown, just in a very stiff manner. Over time, she may relax and speak as humans do, but for now, she appears to be tightly wound. She has an obsession for the color red and is drawn to it like a fly is to honey. It's said that it's the only thing that can drive a Taalunian mad, with its fluorescent color and foreign vibrancy unseen to their world until recently. She deeply enjoys the quiet and finds herself being drawn to parks or city streets at night, away from the insanity of the world always buzzing with noise. Taalunians, after all, enjoy their peace and quiet.

Backstory:

Note: By earth standards she is pretty damn heavy with her veins full of liquid metal. Knocking her back is like trying to tip a soda vending machine.

[User]
Bolt was out exploring Jump City with eyes full of wonder and amazement at the size of the city. Where he came from, there weren't any cities and now that he was in the city looking for work, Nikolai would take in the sites as much as possible.

"Damn this place is huge!" he said in awe as he wandered about the urban area. He soon came upon a bank and decided to rob it. He charged up his body with electricity and burst through the doors. The poeple inside the bank gave screams of shock at the site of him and his incredible powers and bolt just smiled in response.

"Lady's and gentlemen if you would kindly get on the ground and don't anything stupid then this will be quick and non-violent" he said to them. The second he finished speaking a security guard took out his gun and aimed it at him and fired. The bullet hit Bolt in the chest, but luckily his costume had a bullet proof vest and only sustained minimal damage.

"I thought I specifically said to get on the ground and not do anything stupid. You just made a big mistake sir" Nikolai said to the security guard and he fired off a bolt of powerful electricity. The bolt electrocuted the man and people gave more screams. Bolt just laughed and headed for the bank vault. Once he had finished robbing the bank Nikolai made a quick getaway with his metal surfboard by using electromagnetism.

-----

Kobby was sitting in the park of Jump City meditating on the idea of how his destiny would be, but the spirits were vague and said that he would have to figure it out for himself. His journey to the united state was all a part of his journey as a shaman and the spirits told him that the land would be the key to figuring out what his purpose was.

[Assistant]
River rolls her eyes at the oncoming alien hoard rushing at her. "I really did not want to do this," she says, and she draws in the water from around her. Two large water balls appear in her hands and she hurls them toward the oncoming aliens. Upon contact, she makes the water freeze around them, freezing them in place. That took care of about half of them. The other half keeps charging toward her and she pulls an old prank. She wets the ground underneath them and freezes it, turning it into an icy Slip-n-Slide. She jumps out of the way as the aliens slide down the path toward and she gives them an extra shove down the street. She grins and then heats up the water underneath them to a boiling point, so it evaporates immediately.

She looks up toward the mothership, thinking back to the movie Independence Day. If we want to take out the whole infantry, we need to take out the controlling source. She looks around and sees a drop ship that looks like it is heading back toward the mothership. She quickly scans the area and notices a building tall enough for her to be able to at least try and jump onto it. She sprints to the building, jumping up to the fire escape, and runs up it to where she is on top of it. She sees the drop ship just ahead of her and she takes a deep breath, moving all the way to the back of the building. She gets a running start, leaps off the building, and shoots a little bit of water behind her to give her an extra boost. She lands with a loud bang on top of the drop ship. She then just needed to ride this back inside to the mothership and hopefully find a weakness that could stop all of the aliens at once.

[User]
"Bloody hell. Screw this." MC said, lazily dodging the ground fire coming at him while the ship just dispensed more aliens. Getting a mischievous idea in his head, MC opens a couple portal tunnels until he is deep within the ship, easily finding the reactor. Opening another portal, Mc splits up the core into bits using his portals. But instead of causing a big explosion like he thought was going to happen, the ship just lost power and started to fall to the ground, MC portaling out and above the ship.

The ship did make a satisfying reverberation as it hit the ground though, so he was a bit happy with that, or so he accepted, and began to look for something else to do. No one was firing at him at this point, having been crushed under one of the ships he grounded.

[Assistant]
Behind the moon, a large spaceship was double-parked. Aboard the Video Star, faceless goons and production staff shuffled about to get ready for the impending season of the Spandez Conquest Hour, while numerous aliens and monsters auditioned. One, a large mollusc with a muscular arms, was producing copious amounts of sticky goo, holding a number of combat goons in a headlock as it ranted for the camera.

"ORESAMA WA... SHIKAKU-SURRUGU! MUTEKI CHIKARI NO SURIMMU! ORESA-"

There was a beep as a shadowed figure in a production booth turned on the PA.

"Japan season over. Now need Engrish. Good power though. You hired."

As the slugman giggled at his acceptance, Spandez sighed. The season would be starting soon... but of COURSE someone else had to invade at the same time. This was so typical. He leaned back in his chair and started drinking his coffee. Badurong could have at least told him if there were other ships in the area. He did probably deserve it after that fiasco with Japan, though. He'd just have to get creative with the contestants' challenges this year. He'd already gotten five, counting... Assassin Slug. Maybe as the season went on he'd get more of the heavy-hitters he was accustomed to.

[User]
Press had noticed the amount of people getting abducted decreasing, which certainly made his job easier. Still, he was only one person, and he wasn't able to save everyone. There was one ship that seemed to be heading back to the mothership. Going behind a wall on a rooftop to avoid incoming fire, he was about to instruct Horus to follow it when there was an incoming distress signal from Horus. Another crime was being committed during this whole fiasco.

Opening a small window in his visor, he saw someone riding away on a hoverboard, carrying a large bag filled with money. Obviously someone trying to take advantage of the confusion going on. Marking the perpetrator on his minimap, he instructed Horus to follow the ship he noticed earlier while in stealth mode, then flew back up into the sky and aimed his palm at the thief. Switching the setting on his laser and using his auto-aiming feature, he fired a continuous laser, attempting to hit the bag and burn its contents. Whether or not it succeeded, he stopped after the deed was done and turned his attention back to the matter at hand.

The aliens on the ground were still shooting, either at him or something else. Constantly moving around to avoid the laser fire, although not always successfully, he pointed his palms down and returned fire, shooting multiple lasers that exploded on impact.

[Assistant]
She had continued to push until she was coming out of the window within the newscasting station. The pale woman looked around, sighted the mothership through the glass, and pulled her head back through to disappear from the scene.

Marilyn pulled herself up from the otherwise flat glass in the Drop Ship making way to the Mother Ship, finding herself stepping up in front of a woman that was not so different in appearance from herself. She stared at the white haired girl, unblinking, the erratic winds blustering her leather slave skirt through her legs and causing her own pale hair to be tangled behind her. Strange, she thought, she looks like a human. Almost like a Taalunian. However, since she was preparing to board the mother ship, surely this had to be among the enemy. Marilyns brows furrowed ever so slightly as she took a defensive stance, silent this whole time.

Without removing her black and grey gaze, she lifted her left index finger to her mouth and bit down on it gently. When she pulled it back, the other woman would be able to see that the blood flowing was the same color as the chemical mercury. Then the blood hardened... shaping into a tiny blade. When it had formed, the pale alien pressed the small blade to the top of the inside of her own forearm, slashing it down harshly until it reached her wrist. Instantly the mercury-esque substance began flowing out in full. It would almost be grounds to worry about blood loss until Marilyn whipped the bleeding arm downward. From the palm of her hand, a sword had formed. Long enough to brush the ground of the drop ships floor. Solidified, the blood no longer trickled but remained sealed against her arm in a state of limbo. Finally, the colorless woman spoke.

"Threat."

She began running at the white haired woman.


[System]
Age: 33

Gender: M

Race: Human

Occupation: Mercenary, Bounty Hunter, Monster Hunter.

Appearance: A tanned man with shaggy wavy dark purple hair. His eyes are amber and his build is suitably athletic and is of average height. His apparel consists of a navy blue duster worn over a dark-shirt. His pants are a dark blue as well and just as well worn as his duster. On his waist is a belt containing a scabbard for his blade. He also has a glove-like apparatus on his left hand that also acts as a dock for the drone that he deploys. He also wears as a good-luck charm a necklace with the figure of a blue teardrop shaped blob with wide eyes and a smile.

The drone is basically a ball with a light in the middle that makes it look like an eyeball. Dangling below it is a strip of some synthetic fiber mixture that has various symbols painted on both sides making it reminiscent to certain type of talismans..

Personality:
Tace is natural wanderer and he has a bit of a gambling habit. All of which fits his sort of nomadic and somewhat shifty lifestyle. He flows like water and tries to not get too hung up on things. It is easy to think to that he's just some happy-go-lucky idiot. Of course that's wrong. He has willingly entered through a terrible conflict and endured the loss of comrades and friends. As well as the bitterness of crushing defeat. Of course that's all in the past, and maybe one day the memories will get hazy enough they won't weigh down on him so much.

History:

Tace was born at the edge of the world on one of the islands sandwiched between Gongaga and the Woodlands area island. Life was simple, but not necessarily comfortable. Not being much for island life, and having a slight penchant towards conflict he'd head outwards and northwards and would do many jobs. Eventually becoming part of a mercenary group. And times were good as a mercenary, Shinra and the nation of Wutai were at conflict and there was lucre for picking a side.

Initially he was on the Shinra side as it felt like it would be winning side, despite the promises of a reward from the desperate Wutai nation. But he had a change of heart as something about the land was captivating and he also found himself questioning the role of this war from the side of Shinra. It was just an exercise in imperial expansion and he found himself hating his role more and more. He would then defect and join the opposing side of one of many opposing forces.

Despite the initial distrust, he would prove himself admirably. Eventually he would make new friends and allies in the Wutai aligned groups. This would all prove worthless as despite their victories here and there, the might of Shinra and their damned SOLDIERS were just too overpowering and Wutai just couldn't seem to get an upper-hand for too long. Defeat was imminent as parts of Wutai were already coming under Shinra control. He and others would rush and join various insurgencies but that just lead to more loses militarily as well as personal.

Eventually Wutai had been subjugated. The once proud nation had been reduced to being a chintzy tourist trap. It was sort of cruel mercy as they were spared destruction and assimilation, but were now a cartoon version of the real thing. Tace was now alone with the people he knew being dead or dispersed from the conquest. He would go from failed freedom fighter to a mercenary again. Even with Shinra damn near controlling everything there was still chaotic spots where bounty hunters would be needed, and then there were those Mako reactors. Monsters seemed to appear in the regions that have them which also makes good money.

Life is now just lived being as fickle as the wind. He goes wherever his services would need it, gets money and occasionally burns it on nice things or gambling.

Weapon:
Tace fights with two weapons. His primary one is the drone-talisman device he has created. It acts as a conduit for casting magic with whatever materias are inserted in it. It also acts as a distraction from him as it will be more closer and annoying to the foe(s) he's fighting. When at closer range he will employ the use of a curved sabre to do some melee damage.

Skills:
Tinkering- He has a fair amount of knowledge when it comes to devices, construction, and etc which are useful when it came to making his drone.

Crippling Strike- Sword hit that's less about trying to destroy/kill and more about disabling the target

Guerilla Warfare: He picked up some up during his stint in the failed rebellion group in Wutai that was battling Shinra forces.

Tracking & survival: It's a blend of knowledge and experience from his war days and mercenary jobs he has.

Equipment:

* Slide-smartphone: Smartphone with a slide-out keyboard. Chosen because he hates using touch screens and prefers the tactile feedback of the buttons.
* Rations & water
* His lucky charm
* Potions
* Ethers
* Antidote
* A magi-tek car that could best described as what if Columbo's shitty car got turned into a rat-rod

Materia:
Time and Seal

LIMIT BREAK:
Sword soul's pure intent: TL;DR Wuxia as fuck themed Knights of the round. The talisman of the drone suddenly expands into an impossibly long scroll. From within the scroll a shit ton of swords materialize into reality like a swarm of bees. Tace using gestures or thoughts alone can make them act like an extension of himself as they attack in unison and or swarm around him in a storm of steel.

Misc.

Columbo's car

Ratrod
Possible theme songs:

[User]
Lex put his phone down on the small island between the driver seat and passenger seat. He grit his teeth as he swerved through traffic, "Mr. Tseng...and the Boss..." He looks up at the copter in time to see the Manaward burst into brillance around the chopper, "Man thinks of everything." Wasteland let out a baying howl, not like Darkstar would be able to hear her, but Wasteland salute the alpha of the pack. At the same time Lex leaned out as he saw Rufus Shinra himself lean out. He gave him a thumbs up in admiration.

Soon enough Lex's attention is back on the chase. His lips split in a large grin as he races through traffic. With the head start he's actually slightly happy he can see the two bikes up ahead. Reaching down Lex shifts the jeep into All Wheel Drive. And mounts the median of the highway. Then down onto the otherside of traffic driving in on coming traffic. Vehicles dodging out of the way of the big up armored jeep as he races along for abit. Done mostly to avoid a thick knot of traffic in the other lanes. Soon though he mounts the median again and is back in normal traffic having ate up a few meters on the bikes ahead of him.

With a glare Lex uses the big jeeps profile to nudge a smaller vehicle out of the way just a little, not enough to send it careening out of the way. The driver laid on the horn, for about 5 seconds before he saw the huge jeep roll by, the ShinRa logo on the side and the big grinning, sharp toothed canine glaring at him. Lex chuckled, "Good girl Waste!" He weaved by another jeep, then settled in, reaching down and bringing his Winchester out again. It'd be a helluva a thing...he held his arm out the window, waited just abit before...bang! He fires, adding his own shots to the VPs, his own rounds winging along, to the sides and around the drivers, trying to throw off their balance, "Come on damn it. Stop already...where the hell are we going anyway?"

[Assistant]
Kanade

---

The cars around them seemed to move in slow motion as they sped past them. Kanade kept a watchful on the helicopter as it chased them through the busy streets. She noticed gunfire pelting the ground around them as well, and when she looked to the source, she saw a familiar jeep straddling the median.

Ssssshoom~!
Boom!

The moment she took her eyes off the helicopter, a wave of heat rush over her as a missile exploded nearby. Her arm gripped Biggs even tighter out fearing she'd be thrown off. The bike swerved heavily around another slow-moving car, before regaining its balance. The bastard in the white suit had to be dealt with first, otherwise the next shot could kill them.

Kanade accept the two explosives from Biggs, and rolled them between her fingers, one in each hand. The warm metal blocks had a single green light and switch on its side.

She looked up. Beyond the intersection ahead were a row of buildings. On one side was a strip storefronts and on the other a modest parking garage that was still under construction. Scaffolding flanked it on two sides.

That's it.

She looked over her shoulder again, realizing how closely the helicopter and jeep were tailing them.

"Make a quick stop near the scaffold ahead. I'll hit the chopper with a grenade once you start to brake. Worst case, they fly past us and we can try to lose them in that parking garage."

She turned and steadied herself as Biggs weaved through traffic, an active grenade held at the ready.

[User]
Aiko Kamiya

With the issue about a job and hopefully about money dealt with, Aiko left to do her own things. Having only to prepare herself and wait for the call from her contractor and having to do only a small checkup on her equipment after the last modification she did, she was taking her time riding home. Taking one of the longer routes, she was riding in a relatively calm manner, nowhere as fast a she usually did. Truth be told, she was a bit relieved to not have to crawl back to Don again for a job, she hated how he had this way of slowly closing his claws around anyone or anything he was interested in, leaving no space for them to escape when they finally noticed...

Unfortunately it seemed like she wasn't going to be able to relax just yet. Noticing that she was being followed, Aiko did nothing for the first few seconds, only looking at her pursuers in a discreet manner. Their pursuers seemed to be three goons, possibly members of a gang. It was pretty unlikely for people to go after her, both for her being well known on the area and due to her being generally a pretty chill girl, not getting into trouble with anyone... Other than the authorities, that is. That said, it wasn't difficult for Aiko to imagine why those thugs were going after her... News went around pretty fast, especially if you had the influence and information network Don had. If the talk that Aiko was able to get a job got on Don's ears, he wouldn't be happy about it. That said... simple goons couldn't be considered anything more than a small distraction for Aiko.

Looking towards her pursuers in a not-so-discreet manner, Aiko simply let out a mocking grin as she began gradually going faster and faster, just to see if they were able to follow her. With the speed rising, so did the maneuvers and the complexity of the routes she took, diving deeper and deeper into the steel jungle that the lower levels of Midgard were.

[Assistant]
Naisha Alexandros

 The fight with the modified prototype sweeper was brief, noisy and tense. While keeping an eye on her drones, she had spotted her defensive one being tossed away. Yeah she was realizing some glaring design flaws with that thing, but truth be fair it was actually more useful as a range physical damage than shield against heavy things a lot of the time. Still it did it's job, though now it was kinda not able to get a lift off again. Welp so much for that one. At least the other one was still flying around out of reach so she wouldn't have to replace the actually important drone. The defense one was relateively easy to replace or repair, but this one had a lot more electronics than the other one. Besides the defensive one really needed an upgrade, maybe it was time to actually get some proper military grade armor materials.

 Still now she waited with withheld breath, to see the results of the attempted forced reset on the machine. A brief moment that had turned into eternity in her head, but then suddenly she saw the lines of text on the phone. The software reset actually took hold! This was absolutely bloody amazing. She couldn't believe Shinra's software update cloud servers were actually working properly for once. She pulled her head out of her own cover to check the sweeper that had gone intert for a bit before rebooting into obedient state. Well this was nice. She switched her attention back to her drones, there was no need to attempt to recover the defensive one, it was gone... somewhere... burried in the junkyard from a powerful toss by a sweeper mech. What a sad fate. Still she at least pulled her utility drone back to herself. It had gotten some good records on it's camera, like the mech from up close, the soldier and the... civilian dressed agent. Naisha somehow kept her face in check with sheer bloody force of will and by bitting down on the inside of her lip, almost until she drew blood.

 It was really time to bail out of here. Force fo all a soldier would be near impossible to kill up close without using the mech to do it first and now that he had an 'agent' to support him things were pretty much impossible for her right now. Unless she managed to call her summon... which she didn't know if it would happen. Still, she put her fingers on the control of her motorized wheelchair, deciding it was better to leave as fast as possible, least some pointed questions started to pop up like... how she accessed a Shinra Sweeper system... Or the knowledge to trigger the software reset. She had probable answers, but believed it would be best to not get to that point." No problem. I had to help, it would have been a nightmare if it had gotten out of here. Besides I live here too, making it a bit safer is what I should be doing if I could. Now I should be going, got to get home."  She gave a court reply as she started moving away to leave. She HAD to get away now before soemthing else happens... or she snaps or they decide to be inquisitive.

 'Leave the junkyard, redeploy the drone to observe from safe distance, hide away and lay low for a few days...' This was what Naisha was thinking about, she was seriously wondering if arranging for a chat to buy the blueprints was a good idea now. It... didn't seem reliable. Still she tossed a quick glance back to confirm what the Shinra bastards were doing.


[System]
Gender: Male

Appearance: You're a four foot tall, ugly piece of work. You're skin is a nasty love child of bruise purple and vomit green, all topped off with a bald head and a mouth filled with little jagged teeth.

Personality: Born on the wrong side of the cave floor, Ro is characterized by his supremely sour disposition and fairly feral mannerisms. He doesn't talk too often, preferring body language and growls to get his point across. This brutish form of conversation paints him in a pretty unintelligent light, even more so with his seeming purposeful aversion to anything reflecting civility. Ro has red hot anger in his veins and cold black hatred in his heart, but without a reason why or a reliable outlet he is forced to keep himself company. Three days into this world and he's already set up walls to himself, it'd take a gods worth of patience to break them down and even then... who knows what you'd find.

Past Life History: Anger, pain, and self destruction. The man who would become Ro was a fighter, not one of those who got into rings and fought for money or glory, but for the right to live. Every night on the street fighting in any underground ring that'd take him in. He died in some filthy back alley, jumped by some goons when he wouldn't throw a fight.

Talent:
Hatred, Ro is possessed by an irrational anger and hatred for Mankind as a whole. He always fights savagely but it is particularly pronounced and unsettling when fighting against Man.
Strength
Skill(s):
Dark Eye - Allows one to see more effectively in the darkness. (Passive) E-Rank
Absorption - A monster specific skill. This skill allows monsters to gain the skill(s) of the creatures they devour. The amount of skills gained in this process is limited to a 6 time usage. Choose your stolen abilities wisely. Uses will reset to 6 upon Ranking Up regardless of the amount you have used. (Remaining Uses: 6)

[Assistant]
When Briex first opened her eyes she almost immediately wanted to close them again as the light still hurt. Her curiosity won out though and she instead kept her eyes open until they started to adjust. When she could see the young goblin inspected her body instinctively knowing the name of every body part as she saw it.

When that was done she changed focus to her surroundings. Most of what she saw was lifeless rock except for one strange area that even more light came into, but she quickly realized there were also other goblins around. Since they might be hostile she decided to hide.

She silently dragged herself to a nearby dark shadow and tried to disappear in the darkness, unaware that her light skincolor rendered her attempts futile. Believing she was hard too see Briex continued to observe the other goblins, most of which were lying on the cave's floor.

One of them though was somehow balancing themselves on their legs. Impressed with that seemingly impossible feat Briex decided to imitate them. Using the cave wall as support the day old managed to stand up on shaky uncertain legs.

[User]
The cave and the hazy memories. That was all Et truly had at this point, like many of the other goblins in this cave. It was truly interesting to see that they all had just come to be, strange even to see this spectacle. Though, Et was not going to sit on her rump all day and do nothing, no she needed to be useful. That is why she silently thanked the light for coming to save her from this darkness, she opened her eyes and let them adjust.

Slowly, Et got up and gave nice long stretch so that she may go and do whatever she needed. She had been in this place for three days now and it still was exceptionally strange with all these different goblins around. She looked around the cave to see the other goblins; some sleeping, some waking up, one imitating another. She gave a sigh at these people before going off to search the cave walls for anything that seemed like the metal from her memories.

She wanted to make something, bend something like what she had been doing in her memories. Though, nothing would glisten and nothing wanted to just show itself to her. However, that did not mean she would simply give in.

[Assistant]
The endless abyss which enveloped him had consumed all of his senses, the whispering that had once been silently chattering to him had been silenced with a single boom. One that which dug him from up from his slumber, with the ocean of shadows enveloping his form had now pushed him to the top to hear a single command from somewhere. "Wake up..."

With the uttering of those words, the next things he could even roughly remember wasn't anything significant as the light flooded his eyes from his nap. The day of light burning them as they began to adjust to the sudden exposure, with the cave's darkness being sort of a comforting haven to him still. With three days worth of time wracking his brain over the memories in his head along with the fact of the other goblins around in the cave with himself whom he spent the last several days with. He felt different from them and gave a sigh out loud as he stood up from the crowd. Falling down shortly after with his shaky legs still unused to walking, however, with the assistance of a branch which he found among the edges of the cave. There were other sticks and twigs among the floor along with rocks and pebbles but this branch was perfect for his height with a few branches still on it and with a few snaps, it was mostly fine. Using the wooden branch as an additional limb to support him for walking, taking notice of other goblins beginning to stand as well.

Continuing to use the branch as a crutch, he slowly but surely exercising his muscles as he walked slowly outside of the cave to reach the outside. Poking his head silently as he peeked from left to right, with his eyes already adjusted from earlier before but he remained still at the opening of the cave unsure if he should go out further.

[User]
Among the goblins who woke up from their slumber, Gork was probably the slowest; he spent awhile simply trying to open his eyes, and he saw other goblins going about their business. He then turned his head, and saw a round rock at a corner of the cave, and took it. He didn't know why, but his mind was filled with possibility and potential, and he could see innovation and progression where there was not. After he found a sharp stone, he used it to carve the round rock into a cup, as he felt like he wanted to create. But more instinctively, he wanted to learn how.

So Gork crawled to the cave entrance, and taking leverage from the wall, stood up. The bright sun scared him, but he was driven by ambition greater than any cowardice the creature may have had. Sure, he might be walking to his death at the jaws of a hungry predator, but hardships and possible sacrifice was necessary in the path of science. So he set out into the wilderness. He first found a sturdy stick, and used some springy roots to tie up the sharp rock he used to carve his cup into the stick, crafting a spear. With the weapon in his hand, Gork felt comfortable searching for plants, mushrooms, berries, herbs, anything goblins didn't want to eat but he could use to grind up in his cup and brew into something useful.

[Assistant]
Sound, the first sense any newborn has sight developed shortly after, the mother was usually the first thing one saw. Sounds filled the ears of a certain goblin who yet had to get up and join her new family. The words wake up played in the goblin's head and repeated over and over like a song on an i-pod that was set to repeat the same song. A thought soon followed, a rather simple one and one that felt right. However, the sounds coming from around her took her attention, her ears picking up on all the sounds close to her. The sounds varied as if each sound was moving in a different direction, each sound being unique in timbre. The said goblin in question soon twitched moving its arm, the first movement she had made since she could remember.

It felt unnatural but the goblin soon slowly opened her eyes revealing her amber-orange eyes. The rush of light was blinding as the dark was banished elsewhere. The goblin quickly to shut her eyes once more though decided to get up, a slow process since she had never moved before and so her body would need to get used to the idea of it. First, the fingers on each hand began to awaken and move as if they had a life of their own, a tingling feeling began to rush through the goblins fingers, her hands soon receiving the same strange tingling feeling. The tingling was strange and hard to describe, numb was probably the best word to use. The creature then began to turn her hands and wrists, yet another strange feeling. Her wrists and hand only rotating as far as they possibly could.

The arms and elbows followed and like everything else before it the strange feeling she felt turned up there as well. The goblin still listening to the sounds around her, still afraid of using her sight due to the overwhelming light. The creature soon turned herself over so she could hold herself up from the ground using her newly used arms. Her arms jerked every so often but the goblin did not fall or crash into the cave floor. More senses began to emerge, the feeling of touch began, an important sense. She could feel something, it was small, hard and somewhat round, the goblin soon tried to open her eyes once more though this time the light was not as blinding. Her sight was blurry yet over a short time began to correct itself, her head turned to what she could feel in front of her.

A greyish stone was pushing against her and next to that was another object, it was short and brown. More of the said objects could be seen dotted around the cave. However, her attention was now on the other goblins around her who seemed to be standing up or at least trying too. The goblin soon looked down seeing her body and something attached to the said body. The goblin had to once again change position which was hard when her legs had yet to wake up. The goblin found herself sitting on her butt as she soon glanced at her legs, the strange tingling soon went to her legs. The feeling in her legs did not hurt and they were numb as life began to flow through them, the odd twitch happened here and there.

Rubi soon tried to lift herself off the ground so she could stand, what happened when she tried was her crashing to the ground like a tonne of bricks. The feeling of pain was now introduced, it was shocking to feel such a thing for the first time. This goblin would not try to get up again until her legs stopped feeling this strange feeling of numbness. While she waited she suddenly could smell things, all the smells were new and her nose was rather sensitive to all the new incoming scents.


[System]
Age: 23

Bio: Alex was always one of the popular kids back in middle school and high school. It gave him a sense of superiority over his peers, along with an unhealthy dose of attitude that stuck with him as he grew into adulthood. He was clever enough to pass all of his classes without ever putting in my effort, he was talented at sports, and he was known for being a heartbreaker. Everything seemed to go his way all the time. Well, until his Sophomore year of high school, that is.

Alex never knew his father -he was born illegitimate and the man had abandoned his mother before he was born- but he did have a good relationship with his mother. But when he was fifteen, she committed suicide by overdosing on prescription drugs. She left behind a letter that explained her reasons. Alex discovered that she felt worthless since her boyfriend left her to raise their son on her own. The stress of it all finally got to be too much and she couldn't handle it anymore, so she killed herself.

Alex took her death harshly. His grades in school plummeted and he took to drinking to numb the pain of his loss. He became more of a bully, lashing out at the other students through misplaced anger. Finally, he dropped out of school completely during the first semester of his Senior year when he turned eighteen

Throughout all of this, Alex had been bouncing between different foster homes. He never stayed in one longer than two months at a time because of his issues. No one wanted to keep him. The lack of care also attributed to his aloofness later on in life.

After Alex quit high school, he had just enough money saved up to move into an apartment. He lived on just the bare essentials until he managed to get two part-time jobs and set his foot in the door of the working world. Five years later, his situation has improved, but he still often wastes his money at bars and clubs.

Position: Alex is vaguely familiar with the rumors of the haunted complex in his hometown, but he believes they are only made-up stories. He never pondered them seriously and just laughed at the people who did.

[User]
The blaring music faded into background noise as Alex walked towards the exit of the club. After three long hours of drinking and partying, he was ready to head home. He had been careful not to overindulge himself this time, but the low-quality liquor was still making him feel slightly sick. He sighed. If it weren't for the tiny population in the town, maybe there would have been more clubs to choose from. He had long since grown tired of the same old drinks, songs, and people that frequented the only club within twenty miles.

Alex halfheartedly fished through his pockets to see how much money he had left. This was the other problem. He wanted to add more variety to his life, but spare change wasn't going to buy him a plane ticket or a new apartment. With his current income of "just enough to get by," there was no way he could leave his hometown anytime soon. His nearly empty wallet was a shackle that kept him bound here. He drew a quarter from his pocket and tossed it from hand to hand. It seemed like he would just have to keep working on his tolerance for cheap booze and stingy club girls.

 Alex was jerked from his thoughts by the shrill shriek of a police siren. He instinctively froze and spun around to see where the sound was coming from. A dozens different questions flashed through his mind. What happened? Was there another murder? Was it nearby? Was the killer still on the loose? Was he in danger, too? The increasing number of murders in town had set him on edge lately. At least four people had died in the last few weeks, and the murderer had yet to be caught. In fact, the killer was so elusive people were beginning to call him "The Phantom."

Two police cars roared down the street and sped around a corner, just one block ahead of where Alex was standing. He stared after them. After living in the same town for twenty-three years, he knew the layout inside and out. That street led to a dead end. The murder —if that's what it really was— must have only just happened during Alex's walk home. The crime scene hadn't even been blocked off yet. He swallowed, suddenly swept by a morbid curiosity. Maybe he could get a glimpse of the victim. The media had been so vague about the murders. No one even knew how the people were killed. Maybe now he could find out.

Alex hurried after the sirens.

Around the corner, the police were already taping off the area. Alex crept closer to get a better look. On the other side of the yellow tape, he saw what would have been a body. However, it was too mangled to tell if it was man or beast. He paled and turned away. Seeing a corpse in a movie was nothing compared to seeing one in real life. The sight made him nauseous. Thinking about it now, Alex was surprised that none of the police had tried to stop him from looking. Normally they guarded their crime scenes with as much force as they could muster, but none of these men had even glanced his way.

It was then that he noticed what held the attention of the police. There was another man trying to intrude on the scene. It only took Alex a moment to recognize him: the town nutcase, Trevor Darklin. What was he doing here? Alex watched as one of the policemen turned Trevor away, looking seriously pissed off. The rest of the officers returned to their other tasks, but that one especially frustrated man continued to watch Trevor as if he expected him to try to get by the tape again. The scenario was almost funny. It was also a good distraction from the gruesome corpse Alex just witnessed.

"Hey," he called out to Trevor. "What're ya doing there?" He stuffed his hands into his pockets and smiled at Trevor condescendingly, falling back into old habits. "Find any aliens, Conspiracy Boy?"

[Assistant]
"You gotta let me through!" Trevor Darklin pleaded with the blue-suited officer. "Please!"

For months, Trevor had been reading about these crimes. Researching, studying, analyzing every bit of information that he could find. The internet carried little real evidence, and the newspapers brought a little more. But while it was a helpful resource, the local paper didn't give much in the way of details. He couldn't blame the publisher of course. Local papers had their corruptions, but not nearly as bad as the real force behind the obvious cover-up. Most likely, the police were working in conjunction with the government, holding back and real, valuable information from the public. The government was very fond of doing that.

Unlike the rest of the town, Trevor had been suspicious from the start. This was the fifth murder in the past couple of months. Each was reported to have some similarities, although the media was so vague on the matter that he could merely speculate. He needed to see the body for himself. Fortunately for him, though not for the police or the victim, this crime had taken place directly across the street from where he lived. He had been there the second he saw the flashing lights of the police cars pulling up. The scene was still fresh, and the officers hadn't gotten around to blocking it off. It seemed this was his chance.

At least, it had seemed that way until Mr. Blue-Suit had shown up. This cop was the only thing standing in his way now. How could the police be so foolish? Everyone in town knew that he was an expert on paranormal research, and there was obviously something not normal about this string of crimes. Whether they chose to accept it or not, these officers needed his help. Moreover, the victims needed his help, and as the only one crazy enough to actually figure out what was going on, it was his duty to help them.

"I can help!" He attempted to explain as more officers approached, intent on holding him back. "I can tell you what killed these people!"
"Aliens?" One of the officers scoffed. "Yeah, I'll bet it was aliens. They came from the sky to steal all of our cows and murder a few suburban dwellers in the process."

Trevor glared at the man who had spoken. Aliens? That was such a stereotype. Of course this wasn't aliens. The random blackouts that occasionally spread over the town, that was aliens. The new corrupted senator whose cheesy smile got him elected by the mind-controlled masses: Aliens. The random disappearances a few years back- definitely aliens. But this? Not a chance. This only further cemented his beliefs that law enforcement knew absolutely nothing. And what the heck was he saying about stealing cows?!?

"No," another officer interjected in a sarcastic tone. "It must be a cover-up arranged by the government."
"Well..." It was, sort of. At least part of it was, but that wasn't what he was interested in at the moment. Mr Blue-Suit stepped forward, pushing him back into the street.

"Stay away, FreakShow," he growled. "We don't want you here, and we certainly don't need you!"

The others went back to their work, but BlueSuit remained, glaring at Trevor as though daring him to approach again. The young specialist was about to take him up on that dare, when he heard a voice calling to him from the other side of the yard.

"Find any aliens, Conspiracy Boy?" the voice mocked him.

Again with the aliens!?! It was not aliens! What were these people, blind? Aliens wouldn't have left behind a mutilated body, they would have taken it back to their home planet for study! Seriously, that was basic stuff. Even idiots knew that.

"It's not aliens!" He turned in the direction of the voice. Seeing who it was, his eyes darkened. "Although I couldn't possibly expect you to know that."

Upon seeing the face of his mocker, he knew exactly who it was. Alex... Alex Something. Okay so maybe he didn't know exactly, but he certainly knew the type. He'd seen this man around before, usually hanging out in clubs and bars. He was one of those arrogant unbelievers who thought that they were better than everyone else, always searching for some sort of purpose. Yet they assumed that tough they had no drive, they were still somehow more mature and intelligent than him. He who knew exactly what he was doing with his life.

"And my research has nothing to do with you. Besides, I live here, so I have an excuse. What are you doing here?"


[System]
SEX: Male
AGE: 35 (Middle-Aged).
HOMELAND: The Black Duchy, formerly the Kingdom of Lithenia.
BACKGROUND: Tradesman

TRAITS:
* Strider – Flint is not the strongest, the fastest, or the smartest. But he knows how to take what he has and use it to survive.
* Tactician – When you're at this for half of your life, you usually develop an eye for strategy.

FLAWS:
* Sleepless – Most people go to sleep at night, but Flint... it takes a bit.

PROFICIENCIES: 16 +4 Skill points
Expertise:
Tactics II (3 points)
Folklore I (1 point)
Mathematics I (1 point)

Skills:
Cooking II (3 points)
Herbalism II (3 points)
Flute I (1 point)

Social:
Command I (1 point)

Weapons:
Swords II (3 points)
Shields II (3 points)

PERSONALITY:

Flint can be the stoic type; he has endured hardships and pain, but gritted his teeth and got on with it. That's all he really has to do. Not much he can see ahead of him, and not much that would come after, either. This also extends to people. He's not gone out of his way to make friends, and can often appear aloof. That said, he does try to care for the few people he knows – it's simply that he's lost enough people that it becomes hard to care for anyone more.
He tries to watch out for his friends, or rather, comrades, to make sure that they live to see another day. Whether this is interposing a sword or shield to halt a deadly blow, making sure they don't make enemies of import or just plain shouting at them, he'll do his best. If he doesn't have any bodies to care about, he'll just worry about making sure whatever's trying to gut him gets gutted first.
And as for his beliefs… Flint practices some of the Old Ways, but he is no god-fearing man. In fact, he doesn't fear much at all. Put him in a panic? Certainly. But there are only a two things Flint has truly come to fear. The first is meeting his end – a reasonable fear by any means, and one that has often kept him his hide. And second… Duke Garcell of the Black Duchy. That man is truly a demon to him.
He's also coming to regret how long he's been in the game... the number of creases on his brow have increased. He hasn't found any grey hairs, but it's only a matter of time. Both signify he's nearing an age where he won't be as effective a fighter as he used to be. Even if he became a captain of some kind, he would still see war. Or he could purchase some land, open a shop or an inn, get a pretty wife - the standard dream. He can't trudge dirt paths forever. So once again, his life falls to a choice.

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION:

Not tall, not short, with tawny brown hair and gold-flecked brown eyes, he would not stand out among the people you might see in the Aldaric Sea, common as that is. He couldn't even tell you from whom he is descended – though he has his presumptions. He's fairly balanced in his athleticism, lean enough to be quick, muscled enough to be strong, and, well, he's had an admirer or two in his life.

EQUIPMENT:

A bastard sword and a simple iron shield are his primary tools-of-choice, with a leather brigandine, bracers and greaves, and steel-toed boots, with a plate helm and leather cap he wears if knocks to the head are likely. He has a crossbow and a dagger, too, but mostly it's piecemeal things he's picked up over the years. Most of it he just sold on to someone else. Add in his bags with enough food and clean water to get him to the next town, some dried herbs and strips of cloth in case he injures himself, kindling and a flint to light the occasional fire, a wooden flute which he whittled himself and occasionally plays, a whetstone and oil for his gear, a bedroll and blanket for sleeping, rope, which you always need, and his coin, and he's set to go for his journeying. You might think that's a lot for one man to carry, and you'd be right, which is why he brings along Gale, a bay-coloured mare. She's not exactly one to ride, and she'll kick if she's made uncomfortable, but they seem to have a good relationship.

HISTORY:

Flint was born to a herbalist and a miner in a provincial town, in the Kingdom of Lithenia. He refuses to call it by any other name. He was twelve when Barthos Garcell staged his coup, and that was about when his father died, too. And under the Duke's (now King's) rein, things certainly changed. He remembers how harsh things were back then. The toll it took.

In lieu of taking up a pick-axe, Flint's mother taught him her herb trade, how to grow some, where others grew wild, and which ones not to touch, and then how to mix them, cut them, mash them, brew them. It took several months, and a number of arguments, before he relented. He'd run the town to make deliveries and hiked into the mountains to go where his mother dare not. He met a few 'Low Aldonians' at that time, too. The ones who saw him were brash, and the ones who didn't... he came to pity these people. Their ancestors had left them quite the legacy. Aside from those distractions, he and his mother were still relatively happy... but as it always does in stories, that didn't last.

Just before his sixteenth, his mother died, in a fit of Fate's Irony, from illness. And that took everything from him. He didn't have nearly the expertise his mother did in herbs, and the horror stories of explosions in the mines struck that off the list. That left starving, begging, or apprenticeship to a craftsman or trader… or enlisting. He was too old to find anybody who'd take him, and he'd seen enough dead in the streets to know that trying to beg would starve him anyway. And that left enlistment.

He remembered the time the King took over. He didn't want to be a part of that. But what choice did he have? It came in the form of a mercenary company, in search of new work and fresh blood for the fold. They had no interest in a scraggly youth, untrained and untried, but a single man took pity on him. Menos was an old veteran, more one to bark than bite, and reaching his decline. But he claimed to see the fighting spirit in Flint. So Flint sold what he no longer needed, including the only home he knew, bought a rusted sword and mould-ridden shield, and left. His training took some time, years spent on the road until he was on par with his mentor. He helped his group wherever he could, and joined his company in fights when they happened. He turned twenty by the time he could afford a proper weapon. And he was more than distraught when, in a moment of hesitation from Flint, Menos took a blow for him. It proved fatal.

That was all it took for Flint. Despite the congratulations of his comrades and the coin in his pocket, he felt numb. Death was a thing that happened. He had always known that. But one after another, they'd left him behind. He'd lost most all he considered dear to him. Taking his share of coin from the company, he bought a filly pony and left on amicable terms with the men he'd known for the past four years. His time since has been spent as an escort, making sure bandits and pirates don't lay their hands on his charges, and on occasion, grabbing the occasional thief or murderer. The only place he's not gone in the last twelve years has been the Duchy itself.

[User]
Flint emerged from the back rooms, exchanging a small nod with the waitress as she passed by. He had arrived the night before, and given its low price and it was the place he heard he was to come, he had rented a key. The bed hadn't been so comfortable, but it was a roof over his head.

His normal action would usually be to sweep his eyes around the room, but before anything else, his eyes went to a man with pale skin and paler hair. A High Aldonian, it would seem. And to see him here was more than surprising. Then it went to the other two oddities, at the far table. Unusual for an inn, for a table to be empty, but it made it an apt choice for a barricade. Maybe that's why the girl and the old man were sitting there.

Skirting around the other patrons, he moved towards the table - but not obviously. Instead, he went for the window nearby. Turning his back to the wall and leaning against it, his back was now guarded. He lifted his leg so that his boot created a triangle out of the wall and the floor, in the event he needed to deliver a swift kick. He crossed his arms. Then he began scanning the small crowd for anything out of the ordinary, though he didn't pick up on anything just yet.

[Assistant]
It was a minute after the middle-aged warrior had set himself up at the end of the table nearest the wall that yet another figure entered. This one, however, was not dressed for war. This one was dressed to impress.

In strode a tall and pale fellow draped in red fineries, the arms of his shirt puffed out beneath his vest. He wore a feathered beret - one feather was pure white, and the other a rich black - and had a jeweled sword at his side. His mustache was long and waxed, his black shoes reflected light like mirrors, and his brown eyes gleamed with cunning. He was flanked by a pair of brutish looking fellows in fancy clothes, both of them wearing falchions strapped to their hips.

As the man regarded the group, he wore a strange expression for the briefest of moments. Then he cracked open in a wide grin and waved over to the silent mercenaries.

"Thank you for meeting here tonight," the stranger began. "I am Lord Guthbert, as you may have guessed already, and I have need of brave warriors with steady hands. I need people who aren't afraid of ghost stories.

"Tell me," continued Guthbert, stepping forward and setting one hand on the table, "have you heard of Blackmire Keep?" He leaned in conspiratorially, his gray eyes gleaming. "A fascinating place, that one. It so happens to be my ancestral home, and the source of a great many supposed evils that plague the southern lands. But I will cut to the chase.

"In order to maximize our gains in the war with Lithenia, we need the peasants here at home to do their share for the war effort. The fields must be reaped; timber must be fetched; stone must be quarried. So you will understand my discontent when I tell you that some damned fools in the southern reaches of Beldemar have stopped work because of a few disappearances." The noble's voice had a bitter tone, like he had been chewing on a mouthful of wormwood. Guthbert's nostrils flared up in annoyance, and he began circling the table, stepping around the back of the boy - wait, girl? - and the Aldonian, but his stare was on the two older and more experienced fellows. He seemed to be speaking directly to them. "Supposedly, there are all manner of nasty, ghastly things foraying out from the keep and plucking away the peasantry for whatever purpose. I need you to head on down south, find out what's actually happening from the mayor of Halden, then go to the Keep and clear out whatever bandits or the like have claimed it as their home."

Before anything else could be said, Guthbert reached into his vest and removed a fat purse. He opened it up, then poured some of its contents into his hand: gemstones. Rubies and sapphires and emeralds tumbled into his pale hand, not to mention a few diamonds. He carefully selected a few specimens and set them down on the table for the group to inspect. "Consider those gems an incentive," he said after a pause, "a down payment for the services you will render. Put an end to whatever is troubling the king's subjects and you'll get paid ten times the worth of this purse for your efforts in silver bars and precious stones. Each."

Lord Guthbert smiled at the collected mercenaries. "Any questions?"

Your characters can be assumed to have a basic understanding of what Blackmire Keep is. The money you're being offered is quite considerable - very considerable. You could each retire with that sort of wealth.

Feel free to take a few gemstones off the table.

There's details being left out. Boran knows deception well enough to tell that. The man must want them to just take his offer and get on with their task. A little probing may be necessary.

Those gems are very real. Flint knows enough about gems from his father to know they're very real and very valuable. Ten times a purse of gemstones of this quality... that's a lot of money. It's too good to be true, but if it is true...

These lines are practiced. This isn't the first time Guthbert has given this speech.

It's not something most people would pick up on, but as the scion of an Aldonian estate Lothair is well-versed in diplomacy and speechcraft, not to mention keener of intellect than most. The man's diction, the way he moves, the inflection of his voice - he's either rehearsed this speech or given it more than once before. And that begs the question... if Lothair and these other mercenaries aren't the first to be hired for this job, where are the others?

In that moment when the man walked in, Riley couldn't help but notice the way he regarded the group. That expression said "You'll do."

Riley also another oddity as the man passes behind her, running his fingers along the edge of the table. He doesn't smell. Most people have a scent about then, slight as it may be, or wear a perfume or something to cover up that smell. This man simply doesn't have a smell.


[System]
Age: 35
Gender: Male
Race: Aretan Hume

Appearance:
There are no fair or courtly words to encompass the horrifying appearance of Linus Kolbe. He is by every impression a dead man who refused to lay down. His eyes, one milk-white and sightless, stare from a red, patchwork ruin of deep furrowed wounds and unspeakable burns, the whole of his skin and skull held together with crude wire-thread stitching and scar tissue, hair long since burned away. His voice comes as a shuddering rasp from somewhere in his chest, deeper breaths rattling in his lungs. Few know what further atrocities are visible on his flesh beneath the padding of his armor.

It works well, in putting the fear of battle into the Crown's foes. Unfortunately, it often has the same effect upon its friends.

Brief character concept:
Quartermaster and record-keeper. He has one good eye and can still swing a blade or hammer with the best of men. And one thing you can be sure of: He isn't afraid of getting hurt.

History:
Who was he, before he was left an embittered husk, cast off from the crucible of war? It barely seems to matter, when few can say who he is now. And following his last return from battle, Linus would have been forcibly retired were it not for his unwavering loyalty and a curious pressure from the clergy that he remain available for duty. A compromise was reached, and he soon found himself relegated to duty as Annalist and Quartermaster; Battle-ready, but kept away from younger, idealistic recruits, those who still believe war is all glory and bright, shining armor. It would not do for the impressionable to see the true, terrible face of war.

As with many older knights in the service of the Aretan crown, Linus is a veteran of a few of the kingdom's renowned campaigns. But what follows him more closely, more cautiously, are the whispers of other, lesser-known campaigns, rumored forays pushing deep into the hidden east. Campaigns of which there are no songs, of which no tapestries are woven, of which there are no writings and any discovered are burned along with their authors.

There are no certainties in this whispered hearsay. But the rumors -- as surely Linus himself -- refuse to die.

[User]
Gawain was promptly shown what side of the blade he was on in this sad sad story of treacherous elves and Eretol whores. The kick between his legs landed, firm and stout, sending him hurling forwards landing on his knees. He planted his fists into the ground as he grunted, coughing slightly and spitting out blood on the dusty, sand-covered floor beneath him. He took a brief moment to recover before looking up, grinning slightly. The grin morphed into a deep, ragged laugh. "You kick hard," he said with a voice equally as ragged as his laugh. ".. for an elf."

"Give me a knife like you have and we can settle this betwee-" his answer was cut short by the elven leader, who stepped between to stop the woman. He then proceeded to ask the knight if he'd like to be delivered to his monarch. Oh, if only... "I'd like that very much, elf." he said, looking down at the floor again, still wincing from the pain. Oh, if only he had a knife, he'd string that elf bitch up on a noose along the rest of these vile creatures. The Eretrol whore, she'd meet a kinder fate. She was a whore, surely, and a tribal at that.. but she was still a human. She'd become his personal servant, to serve his every whim and need. Just the thought of that made the pain between his legs ease away.

A set of boots approached the man again, and from the sound of the voice it seemed to be the Eretol. She didn't get far past her initial sentence before Gawain really did collapse - not from pain, but from laughter. Was she serious? He snickered even as she continued to speak. This woman was remarkably fun, even for being an Eretol whore. "I know what I said to be untrue, is it?" he asked her then, looking up finally with a twinkle in his eyes. "Then I s'pose you're not a criminal, and you simply arrived here to feed these poor villagers.. and then somehow a fire started and you came here with your weaponry to make sure I was unharmed?" He shook his head; no, it was clear what they had done here. And justice would be served for it as soon as he saw the chance to do it.

Her comment about her never spreading her legs for him didn't do much for him. For her, ten Eretol whores who would gladly offer up their hatred for the Aretians for some money. So he simply raised his shoulders at her comment, slowly rising upon his feet now, pushing himself off of the ground with his fists. This was the first time, however, that he managed to get a good look at the woman. She was stunning. It made him think twice about what she had said before, too - she certainly was attractive, for an Eretol. Only his hatred for those desert faring half-traders kept him from acknowledging this, even to himself.

His staring was interrupted by her cold, cold gaze into his eyes, and voice that spelled only hatred for him - the kind he returned the favor of, most definitely. As she ordered him to move, he simply bowed lightly, as if he was bowing for a noble woman in court. "After you, milady.." he said playfully. In his mind he promised himself to make these fools pay for taking him captive. They should've killed him when they had the chance, because he was going to annoy them to death for the lack of a sword to do it with.

The one thing that betrayed his playfulness was his body, which was bruised and dehydrated. As he attempted to step forwards to follow the woman into his captivity, he felt a sharp pain between his legs and in his side. The mage had been kind - played only mind tricks on him, which would explain why he couldn't recall much of his time in captivity. But between the hard sandstone floor in his cell, the elves and the Eretol whore beating him up and the bad shape he was in.. Gawain had seen better days.

His arm was placed across his stomach to hold his hurting side, as he slowly made his way up the stairs following after the woman, and no doubt followed himself by whomever of the two remaining elves had decided to follow them up. His side hurt like hell, as did his sack. And his leg wasn't feeling too good either.. he swayed slightly as he attempted to hide that he was hurting. He did a bad job at it - it was clear to anyone that he was in some pain.

It didn't stop him from wishing death to all those who were in and around the village at this time.

[Assistant]
"Complicated indeed. I understand," Aust replied tersely in the Elven tongue and returning his blade to its sheathe. Pushing himself to his feet, he crossed his arms over his chest and finally settled his eyes on one person. The Knight didn't seem to be of a mind to resist, at least not yet, but that didn't mean he shouldn't be watched. Very shortly after the Elf rested his eyes on the figure however, he dropped to the ground. Upon glancing to Juna and the blade she now held, he surmised what had happened and couldn't help wincing in mild sympathy to the man's pain. While it may not have been entirely undeserved, a kick like that was simply cruel.

Reasoning that the Knight had likely dealt out at least as much cruelty to any one being in the past, Aust remained silent while Lothren gave the rest of his orders and vanished up the stairs. He tensed and almost spoke up when Annara approached the man again, but the anger she had been mired in earlier seemed to have passed. At the least, her insults had become less crude and she wasn't striking him. After they both got a few words in, Annara started for the stairs. Aust watched her climb them, noting the way she moved and the dispassionate look she offered the Knight over her shoulder. The man, clearly weakened by his plight and subsequent encounter with the Ytharien, was slower to make his way up those first few steps. As the two climbed the stairs, Aust spared another glance towards Juna before looking down to the man still sprawled at his feet. Nothing had changed about the Mage's condition in so short a time, but the elf still looked troubled.

"Go on ahead. I'll be along shortly, after I see what can be done for our other friend here. Won't be more than a minute behind you, I just don't want him following us if I can help it," he explained, kneeling by the mage again. Placing a hand over the man's eyes, he started to chant softly as though preparing a complicated spell to lay over the Mage.

[User]
Juna quickly put her knife back into its holster that was hidden within one of the pockets of her armor. She simply gave a little shrug to explain her actions. Juna herself wondered if she had ever really planned on killing him. Hurting him, definitely. She could do a hundred things to him without killing. Yet she did not know if she had the intent to kill. Juna shrugged off her thoughts, assuming she had neither the desire nor undesire to kill him.

"Well, seems I got a bit excited there. These things happen; you understand of course," Juna said. Or maybe he didn't. She had rarely lost her composure. "I'm sure you understand as well, sir knight. Of course you do."

Lothren had told her that "enough," and that was good enough to her. He was their leader, and she owed him a great debt, likely never to really be repaid. She looked back at Annara, who gave her a touch on the shoulder and a look that Juna thought looked almost sympathetic. Juna gave Annara a look, holding that smile that seemed to always be there.

"That one's a lively one for sure," Juna said, and then added mockingly, "His words, at least."

She took a step away from the Knight, although kept her eyes on him. Who knows what he would do if he had the chance? He was rotten to the core, Juna could tell, and very angry. If he tried anything she would react, although he strong he would do so. He had not been willing to do so already, and now the ideal time for that had passed. They were now going back outside.

[Assistant]
Metal heels thumped into the horse's flanks. The mount's bellow sounded across the plain, echoing back dully from the rocks as it was thrown into a gallop, sending the pair thundering across the dry earth. Linus flattened himself against the saddle, the fluttering standard held low like a jouster's lance. A tarnished, horseshoe-shaped medallion graven with the name "Mister Hooves" jingled from the mount's tack. Linus glared at it a moment through the perforations of his helmet. Poor name. Lacking purpose. Would have words with Falkenberg if he still lived.

They drew nearer, pounding across the sands. The Captain spoke true. This was their charge. But his mind circled even as his focus was honed to a narrow point. Why run? 'Twas no callow defiance. A trap? No. Unthinkable. Couldn't have anticipated this meeting. Perhaps simple fear. Perhaps some grander gesture. Perhaps something to do with the curious absence of the boy's companions. Answers would be had soon, for the distance closed, nearer and nearer.

The King's mount turned sharply, cantering down through a pass Linus couldn't have perceived even had he known it was there, descending into a dry, shallow valley. Kolbe drew hard on the reins, twisting the mount's head painfully to one side. Mister Hooves lurched, singing in protest, twisting its body to follow, legs gouging a furrow into the earth and skidding a good three meters before slowing enough to turn, throwing up a glittering wave of sand in their wake. Reckless. Stupid. Couldn't follow now. Continue, then. Use the elevation to see how the land lay. Avoid further surprises.

Kolbe thumped the horse into action once more, slowly building to a gallop along the crest of the ridge. He leaned hard in the saddle, gripping it tightly as he looked below, tossed up and down by the relentless pace. There -- a white blur, trailing a billowing cone of dust. The Captain was in close pursuit, keeping pace with the boy, unwilling to endanger a child of the Royal bloodline but clearly losing patience. The valley was narrow, but treacherous, serpentine. Their apostate master could not outpace them, but they could be lost. It was time to force a resolution.

Linus pulled. Another primal bellow rang across the empty plain, one that the other two riders were puzzled to find drawing rapidly closer.

---

The desert in front of Alonso exploded into a heavy fountain of dust and silica as Mister Hooves landed bare meters in front of him, ploughing into the sand and skidding near a forty-degree angle, legs scrambling to control its momentum. The standard of Areta, stained, torn and ragged at its end, flapped above the cloud, held high in one tarnished, armored fist.