[System]
Age: 21

Appearance:

Height: 178 cm or 5'11"

Weight: 82 kg or 180 lbs

Likes: Kind people, video games, cold weather, anime, manga, talking to people, technology, cars, fun activities, girls, cooking, good food, living comfortably, keeping things simple, guns, glasses.

Dislikes: Bad people, boring people, overly deep water, liars, school, unneeded details, cigarettes.

Zodiac Sign: Aquarius

Special Talent:
Kei doesn't have any extraordinary special talent, but what he is good at is video games, cars, and cooking. Aside from those three things he is about as average as a person can get in terms of other talents.

Profession:
To avoid having to work for the rest of his life Kei decided on taking a job that would allow him to both have fun and make tons of money on a day to day basis, as such his profession lies in day trade, whether it be stocks or foreign currency he trades them all and makes a good amount of money doing it. Despite having an honest to good job, every now and again he is an arms dealer that lies within the grey area of legality.

Bio/Personality:
Kei is probably an overly outgoing guy, he was always this way since a young age, he really didn't care who someone was or what kind of person they were as long as they were kind he was able to get along with them with ease. He is a simplistic thinker and hates when things are made overly complicated since there is no real reason for things to become harder than it already is. As such he does his best to simplify every aspect of his life without compromising his interests. While yes he would love to live as a god and not have to worry about bodily functions, but he would not go and get special surgery to get bodily functions removed. A trait that usually goes hand in hand with outgoing, is being kind and helpful. Kei does not lack that trait in any way you can say he is the epitome of a kind and outgoing guy even to a fault. Aside from all that Kei is the type of guy to try and get to know a random stranger in the street and hopefully become friends with said stranger for a lifetime, he cares that deeply for relationships.

Growing up Kei was always intelligent and methodical about everything he did, this carried all through his life even to now. That's one of the reasons he decided to become a day trade and arms dealer. He wanted a life of relative ease and comfort. While he does hate the idea of school he understands that somewhere down the line the diploma and education will benefit him and as such he is putting himself through school something that his parents always struggled to do as they could never afford to get him in, but with Kei coming into a fortune due to day trading and arms dealing, he has no problems affording the tuition costs for school, as such he puts himself through it all. While yes Kei is indeed richer than most people, he does not like to show it off because then he feels he is being a horrible person for doing so.

Your character's favorite song:

*Your age: 20
*Region: United States
*How many years have you been writing/roleplaying: 4-5 years
*How often do you have time to post?: Pretty much everyday unless stated otherwise
*Misc: I do attend university so sometimes the work load from that may cause me to go MIA for a day or two, but I will always give a heads up!

"These are the things that make a good story great and good writers even greater."

[User]
Sunday Lunch time

 Late Autumn, Sol City

Corona park was a sea of golden leaves and the sun was hanging lower causing the grass than take a slightly golden effect. The bright plants of summer had died back and been replaced by the autumnal tones and crunch of dried leaves on the winding paths in the forest Walk.

In the cities old Harbour the old warehouse apartments brightly stood out in the harbour, brick weathered by decades of harsh weather and paint of there former companies still vaguely viable though many now where trendy apartments and shops..

The weather had begun to turn slowly to winter, nights where drawing in and the sun Sat lower in the sky. Still Sol City was bright, pumpkin spice lattees sold by the thousand in the coffee shops and the bright lights of Centre Point gleamed out visible for miles despite the changing seasons.

[Assistant]
Marinalia (Romus) Olympus
Old Harbour, Sunday morning

Waking up as the Autumn sun gleamed off the old Harbour and several boats where deploying sails and starting to head out down river Marinalia was still getting used to the warehouse apartment she had rented just by the Marina. It was prefurnished and pretty generic, a large aged brick walled living room and dining kitchen with cast iron columns dominated by the tall windows was pretty inviting, well if you lived there a while. 2 bedrooms and a en suite master completed the apartment, ideal if her sister decided to visit like she often did, one bathroom only cause endless arguments over showers.

Getting dressed in her normal skirt and finding a pale pink track jacket from the floor, never quite the tidy one in the family as she headed to find tea, it had taken her days to find a decent tea shop in the city. Still athletic from years of swimming, long blonde hair and distinctive grey eyes she was not hard to miss at the pool Marinalia still enjoyed to do a few km on a Sunday morning.

Throwing on a light coat, a shoulder bag and a pair of below the knee boots teamed with a pair of vintage aviator sunglasses, a little extra she found in a market years ago, they fitted her profession flying helicopters for the Daedalus Airlines locally, new contract, new city, rented apartment and a white Landrover Discovery parked on the ground floor, sure it ate a good bite out her salary but it was her one real extravagance.

leaving the Luna Sports Facility

It had been a good swim, 4 km and a smoothie later the bright day outside could finish drying her hair off, it was a too nice day to waste with a hair drier. A few had noticed her figure, and one of the ladies had tutted her boyfriend. Always was a confidence boost to be noticed in a good way. Heading out to the Old Starboard for a snack, a good swim always made he peckish.

The Old Starboard

The bar was quiet, they mainly served food in the Lunch to early afternoon shift, a shopping bag lent against the Bars veranda balistrade from Swan songs, a few records for her father, he always got bored on his long voyages, Watching the sky above Marinalia saw a familiar helicopter fly over and come into landing at Centre Point. With a painted blue and white tail, one of the crew from Finland, he had been with them a few years. Hers was getting a UK flag kindly painted on the tail as the airline allowed the Pilots a small amount of customization on there aircraft.

She had been flying with them for a few weeks, the pay was solid, Daedalus Airlines had offered a nice bonus too as they where short on crews, though now she had been finally assigned a permanent aircraft now she had passed the flight tests and safety checks that always came with a new contract.


[System]
Appearance: Herold is broad shouldered and thickly muscled, though his body is more trim and wiry than what one might expect from the term "musclebound." His statuesque and powerful form belie his tactical knowledge and quick mind. He walks and thinks like an apex predator when on the move, striding powerfully but taut, as if he could pounce at any moment. He rarely removes his helmet in front of others, but when he does most would think him not unhandsome. Perhaps a bit rugged and rough with the short, tousled brown hair and storm blue eyes. When out of combat gear, he still tends to wear his military grade loose fitting pants and utility belt, albeit with a plain shirt.

Age: 32

Sex: M

Class: Arbitrator

Equipment: (Guns, armor, grenades/etc-If you are not sure or if it's questionable, please send me a PM.)

* Carapace Armor
* Shock Maul
* Combat Shotgun
* Hydraphur Pattern Suppression Shield
* Autopistol
* Rebreather
* Utility belt
* Frag grenade

Notable Deeds:

* Cartel Bust: Was apart of an Arbitrator Squad that busted down an illegal smuggling operation in the Forge World Ilios, dispatching multiple assailants and capturing the leader's second personally after fighting him in close combat.
* Crime of Abstraction: Was promoted to Sergeant, and sent after one of his comrades who had committed the crime of Abstraction and extortion on the world of Dalheim. Sorkal Nielson, the Arbitrator in question, saw fit to go after innocents who he had perceived as gang members, extorting them of their money to get information from them. Herold found, fought, and defeated Sorkal, taking him in to be tried by the true court of law.
* Xenos Threat: Helped defend Dalheim from a small Ork incursion that had been manipulated into attacking by the Eldar. Received a large scar along the left side of the face and nearly losing an eye after one particular struggle with an greenskinned Xeno. He was tasked with keeping Order with the citizenry as the PDF forces went to fight the Xenos, but some made it into the city and was confronted by Herold. He slew four. He witnessed an Eldar in the slums of the city and reported it, helping the Governor's administration to find information that put two and two together to show the threat was devised by the ancient Xenos.
* Heretic Slaying: Assigned to the planet Sovereign due to reports of cultists. Herold has 17 confirmed cultist kills and 6 confirmed arrests since his time arriving planetside. Half of them occurring during his investigations when he found a cultist meeting place below a Warehouse for Imperial armor parts, surprising them with a grenade, proceeding to two to death, before making a tactical retreat and gunning multiple cultists down as they attempted to escape through the only unblocked exit.

[User]
"Too late, brace for impact." The matter of fact tone from the Krieger betrayed nothing of his actions, the sound of the Chimera slamming into reverse, and throwing the non Skitarii about violently as he avoided a crude, improvised rocket hurtling by. It seemed someone, or something, had instructed the heretical forces how to construct crude anti tank weapons, though by evading the incoming crude ordinance he had no room to avoid the charging heretical forces. The sound at the front end of the Chimera prompted Ansgar to slam the thing back forward, dragging the warp tainted assailant under the front treads, a heavy bump, screeching, and crunch announcing the fate of the would be boarder. "We don't have room to maneuver clear of further explosive attacks where we are, we ram through the fortifications and take them in close assault."

The idea of engaging corrupted industrial workers would be mad to most, but between the Skitarii who literally had no programming for fear nor any left in the organic components, and a Death Korp of Krieg Grenadier who saw a suicidal frontal assault as another day in service to the Emperor, and said Krieger was driving, there was little recourse for the more reasonable members inside the Chimera except be along for the ride. Not bothering to slow down, the Chimera's engine roared in defiance to the incoming clatter of stub weapons, stolen or inducted from local gangs or smuggled from offworld, as well as another volley of crude explosives attempting to disable the Chimera. The Skitarii, despite the chaos of the ramming attack, were firing at maximum efficiency, picking targets as the Chimera smashed open the crude semi circle of fortifications the heretics had attempted to make proof against assaults.

"In life, war. In death, peace. In life, shame. In death, atonement."

Grim were the words that the Krieger intoned as a heretic took a massive pair of industrial sheers, designed for cutting armor plates to size, to the front of the hull, opening a man sized gap in front of Ansgar as he intoned the last line of the Litany of Sacrifice. Without a sound, the Krieger leapt forward, slamming into the heretic and, despite its augmentations, sent it hurtling to the ground. In its forehead was a bayonet, which Ansgar ripped from the bloody mess he had left of the heretic as he produced, in his dominant hand, an entrenching tool. The Skitarii kept up their withering rate of fire, and the tech heretic had a perfect line of fire into the tunnel where more heretics could pour in from. Despite the gaping hole over the driver's seat, the hull gun was undamaged and the Arbites would also find he had a fine view of the incoming heretics. Ansgar was standing over the corpse of the heretic, covering the only blind spot left outside of the rear of the Chimera, which was facing the Rhino.

---

"That is why Techpriests assigned to the Death Korp loath their vehicle operators..." Clearly Malig was disgusted with how the venerable Machine Spirit in the chimera had been treated, though she had little recourse to act in preventing such actions. She had not argued, or even begrudged, the Apothecary after she saw what Chapter the Astartes hailed from, and knew full well not to stand between the White Scar and a vehicle. She had instead provided navigational assistance while maintaining a connection to the remote operated Storm Bolter on the top of the vehicle. The weapon came to life, keeping the heretics from being able to get into the blind spot behind the Chimera, ramp still raised to prevent friendly fire, though anyone inside the transport could drop the ramp at any moment, even if the driver had already left through the new hole in its front.

"So long as the Rhino keeps clear of disabling fire, the remote Storm Bolter I am interfacing with will keep any infantry assaults to the Chimera's blind spot clear." The Techpriestess reported calmly to the Celestian, having accepted her position within the current hierarchy of command and not intending to create unnecessary disruptions. She would follow the Celestian's, or the Apothecary's if the Sister of Battle was unavailable, orders without delay, even if she would have choice words to say about the matter. In the pitch of a firefight was not the time to argue, after all, and if there was heresy spreading outside of the Dark Mechanicus presence, things were not boding well indeed.

[Assistant]
"I hate this!"

Adrianne said where she sat in the tight confines of the chimera as hell itself fell upon them on the outside. She had already unbuckled her seatbelt for what little extra mobility it gave her in the chimera and was cradling her large staff; both her and it being a few sizes too large for the chimera!

Loud banging, mindless screaming, bolter and las fire coupled with the roars of industrial tools turned into weapons sounded from the outside.

And there was nothing that she could do from inside the vehicle!

"Who let a guardsman; and of krieg of all things; drive in the first place!?!"

Brief thoughts of mutiny were replaced by a yelp from Adrianne as the inside of the chimera was suddenly filled with a roaring screech and a shower of sparks as the spinning head of a buzz-saw penetrated one of the walls! Adrianne made a quick gesture with her gloved fingers, pointing at the buzz-saw, before an invisible kinetic force grabbed the spinning tool and pushed it back out with the force of a cannonball; the sound of a heavy thud and scream as the tool was slammed back into its operator on the outside; and likely slamming the heretic a long way away as well!

"We are going to run out of ammunition long before they run out of heresy at this rate... !" Adrianne shouted over the noise inside the chimera as she turned to peer at Vala through the flowing dance of red robes of the Skitarii manning the gunports around them.

[User]
"You've got to be kidding me..." She mumbled as they rammed the damned chimera into the chaos baricade!!! What's with those people!? Going on the breach assault with so little people!? The chaos possessed could easily swarm them and one opened gap and it would be over dammit! That's why she hated the warriors of this fucking imperioum... mostly the men. YEah all these mens, guardsmen, space marines and so on... they all were under the brainwashing that to dive in and possibly die was the best possible course of action!!! Sure if you had a full squad of near immortal space marines sure, but htey didn't!!!

 "Fuuuuu...." She roared as a chainsaw her breached the hull. Luckily the psyker dealt with it." For once I agree with you, psyker." Vala rorared as she pulled her." Next time either you or I drive dammit!" Vala added as she pulled her gun just in time to fire into the hole that was opened by some kind of heavy industrial drill. It wouldn't be surprising if the Skitarii were to start being picked off any moment now.

 What's the plan now? She had no idea, plan went out hte window the moment the moron rammed the baricade." Psycker, can you cave the tunnel somewhere in front of us?! We will be dead if the swarm continues anymore than it is right now!" Vala asked, as she fired her gun a few more time through the few holes that were now opened, so she was getting more and more openings to fire from." Boss, I suggest we attempt to cave the tunnel! The numbers are not in our favor!!!" Vala called over the comms, hoping they would be given green light about it.

[Assistant]
" Psycker, can you cave the tunnel somewhere in front of us?! We will be dead if the swarm continues anymore than it is right now!"

"I can't do anything from within this tin-can!" Adrianne called back in the noisy chaos from within the chimera.
" ... I can probably burst a few hearts or so without needing sight, but in order to cave the tunnel I'd need to be outside. The problem with that however is that there is a literal tide of mutants, cyborgs and mutant cyborgs outside waiting to swamp me!"

Although the insides of the chimera would have been a complete and utter horror for anyone with the slightest degree of claustrophobia, given the intense noise, screaming and hammering from the outside all around them; Adrianne could at least appreciate the (temporary) protection from certain doom offered by the chimera's armor.

"If worst comes to worst, I have my powers of teleportation; but I have no guarantee that I'll be able to get everyone out, nor with all their pieces in the right places!"

[User]
"Stay where you are, that goes for all of you, I do not want any of use leaving our vehicles until we know what's out there."

The Apothecary was by design a medic, one used to dealing with his fallen or wounded battle-brothers, but even further down...deeper...right down in his very bone marrow, he was a living and breathing weapon. He held himself from leaping out of the APCs hatch, instead placing one hand against the cold metal of the Rhinos hull - like a nomad calming his mount - and mouthed a few Chogorian words within his helmet. They could not hole up here forever though, the Chimera already being assailed from multiple sides by the crude daemon-machine fusions of the Dark Mechanicum, the Hereteks as they were commonly known, and only the ferocious weapon of the Rhino keeping them from being blindsided.

"So long as the Rhino keeps clear of disabling fire, the remote Storm Bolter I am interfacing with will keep any infantry assaults to the Chimera's blind spot clear."

Nergüi was not known even among his own as a patient warrior, not when his blood was hot and his hackles were up, and although his beaked helmet was as impassive as a statue the deep and robotised tone that came from within it quite clearly showed his displeasure.

"What would you have us do, Celestian?" He half-grunted at Aviza, allowing the Machine Spirit of the vehicle to calm him as he hoped he was calming it, his hand never leaving the hulls interior, "we are now caught in this trap, numbers are against us, and our options are limited; I for one am happy to give my life for Him on Terra, but I would rather do it face-to-face alongside my comrades."

[Assistant]
To most Arbites on lesser worlds, they would claim this would be above their pay grade. Herold however, would have no qualms about shooting those men for dishonoring the rank of the Adeptus Arbites. It was his duty as the keeper of law and peace that these Chaos filth be undone by his hand. As the Chimera opened up, the Krieger was kind enough to give him ample room to wrought the Emperor's will.

The spawn of Chaos, a writhing tentacle monstrosity of terror, muscle, and warp-curse. It tore at the chunks of the Rhino with a mutated strength that could only be unholy in nature. Luckily, the high velocity guns and the psyker had it handled, it seemed. The teeming hordes of filth were another matter, a tide he and the Death Trooper were happy to stem.

Herold took a fragmentation grenade and flung it past the initial mass of heretic turned troops. Seconds before the shrapnel tore through the horde, he bore his shield and unslung his shock maul. The weapon's power meter sang in its highest setting, the maul head glowing with power. With a grimace the likes of which appeared before bloody work was to be done, he advanced.

His shield held aloft, he shove-jerked forward and knocked back a tide of the vermin, before sweeping his shock maul before him. The shock-enhanced melee weapon blew apart heads and limbs. His shield was then held before him before any counter attack could be made. Yet again he pressed forward and ended lives, causing a rift in whatever 'ranks' the foe might have.


[System]
Gender: Male

Age: 34

Rank: Noble in Scandinavia, Prisoner in Mercia.

Appearance:

Personality: Kjalr is a warrior but first and foremost he's a father and husband. He's gentle and kind, but not opposed to entirely butchering anyone and everyone who gets in his way, however, he is not quick to anger and is not opposed to analyzing every situation rationally before drawing his sword.

History: Kjalr was born in 772 AD to Sven Carrson, the Earl of a small port village, known as Skaggerak. In 791, his father sent him to a neighboring Earl, called Klapr, to work off a debt. In 792, Kjalr met Ylva, the daughter of the local smith. They married and in early 793, Kjalr's son, Brand, was born. A few months after his son's birth, Kjalr went, in the service of Earl Klapr, to Lindisfarne. By 806, Kjalr had participated in several small raids along the English and Irish coasts, but one raid went bad, as the English had seen the ships coming upriver and prepared a defense. Kjalr was wounded, captured and believed to be the only survivor of the botched raid. He was unconscious for 3 days and when he awoke, he was in a cell. He had no knowledge of where he was, but luckily, had learned to speak English fluently over his many years of raiding, a skill that would hopefully allow him to gain some answers.

Loyalties: Vikings, for now...

[User]
Sigrid grabbed the cloth and tied it around her head. It did well enough to cover her hair, at least until the cloth gets soaked. They began to run, the two of them, as the rain beat down harder and harder. By the time the trail was reaching its end, the droplets felt like cold knives on her back. If she wanted to be wet and frozen, she would have stayed in Jutland.

Sure enough, though, the estate was slowly rising over the horizon into view. Sigrid nearly stopped running to admire it. Her grandfather's house was large, yes, but this building could easily have dwarfed it. These Angles certainly know how to build! The house in the fields resembled a smaller version of the manor-houses that occasionally dominated a village's landscape, and was comparable to even the greatest of Jarl's halls. Better still, it meant shield from the harsh rain that seems to brew up out of nowhere in the Angle kingdoms.

However, there was a complication. Sigrid smelled it as soon as she saw the house. The complication smelled of fresh earth, that being what it was. She yanked the cloth off her head, and found it covered in watery mud. With her other hand, she grabbed for her hair, bringing it to her eyes. Just as she suspected, it was Norse blonde. If she knew any flowery curse words, perhaps she would have made use of quite a few of them. However, there was nothing she could do. To be scooping dirt into her hair now would be even more suspicious, and being driven out of a village or two was not worth risking lungwater disease for. She could only pray that the owner of the estate took kindly to daughters of Vikings.

[Assistant]
Garod was afraid something like this would happen. Despite the fact that he and Bado had decided that their personas were from Cornwall, he had only been there once or twice and, even then, never really took the time to learn much about the climate there. He wasn't sure if Bado knew much about the kingdom either. However, the Judge was still waiting upon his response, and it would seem strange for him to decline the offer, much as it screamed "trap".

"I would be honored, Justicar. Would you mind terribly if I brought along my companion as well? He is much more open to conversation than I."

[User]
As rain begins to fall over the town, Beornraed meets his commander in front of the manor. He was holding a piece of parchment with a crimson staurogram as a header. "We've received word from the monastery; the new Justiciar wants to make your acquaintance. Probably another showy layabout, like the rest of his lot." he scoffed, crumpling the missive in his hands.

---

Mildemaer barreled through the heavy wooden door shoulder-first, and held it open so Sibley could get through with her. She gave her now blonde friend a puzzled look. "Did something happen?" she asked, not really sure what to think. She set the pup down on the floor and he scurried into the next room, just to be carried back in by a bearded Welshman.
"I'm not telling you again, Cyn, the whelps have to stay in the barn. They shouldn't spend so much time away from their mothers..." his thoughts trailed off as he spied the unexpected guest in his doorway. "Seeking refuge, daughter of Þunor?" he asked simply.

---

Unicycle
His smile widened, eyes yet dark. "Certainly." Alexius remounted his horse and looked down at Garod, once more sullen and serious. "I'm expected at Celnaer Manor. You'll come to the monastery at dusk. Farewell."
With that the judge started back down the road, he on his horse and Wilmot walking faithfully beside him. She turned around once to wave at Garod, smiling pleasantly, before carrying on with her master.

[Assistant]
Kjalr awoke to a small beam of sunlight streaming from somewhere above his head and water dripping onto his leg monotonously. He tried to sit up slowly but suddenly felt like a wave rushed over him. Groaning, he laid his head back down and waited for the room to stop spinning. He tried to recollect the events of the past ... however many days it had been. He remembered sailing with his crew of ten, in a small fleet of 7 other ships. They landed on the beach, only to be greeted by the Fyrd of the shire they were raiding, gathered and prepared. The battle went ill, and the last thing Kjalr remembered was being the last man on the battlefield and taking a sword pommel to the face.

 He tried sitting up again, this time with more success. He found himself in a small dungeon cell, laying on a threadbare, straw-packed cot. There was a bucket in the corner and a tray of stale bread and rotten beef by the bars of the cell. Mustering his strength, Kjalr stood and made his way to the bars, which he used to keep himself standing.

 Beyond the bars was a dim hallway, lit by two torches. On either side of the hall was another cell. On the wall between his cell and the one on the right was a table, laden with his weapons and armor. His sword, Smarhyrr, was just barely out of reach.

 "Hello!?" he called to the darkness. He could only hope for a response now.

[User]
Garod gave his own small wave at Wilmot, before turning away and heading back down the road. Once he was sure the judge and his servant were out of earshot, he muttered the word "damnation" to himself. Of course, he just had to go talking to someone in a position of power when Bado wasn't around. That was a surefire way to get himself killed, or worse, dragged into something like dinner with said person of power. He'd just have to hope Bado knew more about Cornwall than he, else both of their heads would roll.

He was wondering if it would just be easier to skip town... But no, they had only just got here, it was too late to go running off. So, until it was time to head to the monastery, he would wait in his room at the inn, trying to concoct some plan...

[Assistant] There it was. That much-feared discovery of her heritage had finally come. It was inevitable, perhaps. When one has been trading in countless towns in the course of a year, such a thing was bound to happen at least once. Or twice. To be honest, she has been chased out of more villages than she'd like to admit. Sigrid hung her head low, awaiting the inevitable condemnation and later expulsion. For now, she just wanted out of the rain. "Ay, refuge would me much appreciated," she said, quiet and nervous.

[User]
Khan
A figure crossed in front of the far cell and dipped into the dark passageway. As she passed the torches, it became clear that this was a woman in a hooded cloak, with her face covered. She grasped one of the iron bars of Kjalr's cell and pulled back her hood; she was a blond woman with sharp features, wearing a garnet circlet. She stared down at the viking with piercing green eyes.
"If you can't stay quiet yourself, the guards will make sure you're quiet forever." She darted her gaze to either side, and posed a question to Kjalr when she seemed satisfied. "What god will rescue you from this place, Norseman?"

---

Winoc nodded. "You've found refuge, but you'd best thank the gods for your fortune. Many here would see you hang from a tree." He went to a chest beside the doorway and retrieved two large quilts, handing one to Sigrid. "What's your name, fréodohtor?"
Mildemaer was beside herself in confusion about the whole situation. Quite defeated, closed the door behind Sibley -- if that was her real name -- and leaned against the wall, sinking down until she was sitting on the floor.

[Assistant] "Sigrid," she said, almost at a whisper. "That is my name. Sigrid Geirdóttir. I hail from Jutland." Was there sympathy in the old man's eyes? He had never seen her in her entire life, that she could be sure enough of. Yet, he seemed to know her mind, as well as her troubles. With ginger hands, she accepted the quilt, clutching both it and her damp dress close. Something compelled her to keep talking. "My father was here before. He was at Iona, the cross temp- the cathedral. Are you a man of the cross?"

[User]
"Your father was a plunderer of Iona?" Mildemaer interjected as she took the second quilt from Winoc, eyes wide with surprise. The rain pelted against the wooden walls of the estate as Winoc locked the door.
"The raid at Lindisfarne was the first anyone heard of the Norsemen ransacking cathedrals. That was during Offa's time." Winoc said. He took a moment to mull over Sigrid's question. "There's much that you don't know about this land, daughter of Þunor; would a man of the cross open his home to you?"

[Assistant]
Alfred loves the rain. He looks up to the sky and lets the drops of rain fall on his face. It's refreshing, cool, and it bring him back to simpler days of when he was younger. Whenever it would rain back then, he would run out and dance in it until his mother called him back into the house.

He hadn't enjoyed the moment for too long when be sees Beornraed coming towards him. Alfred thinks that's all the relaxation he'll have to himself. It is reassuring though that those moments no matter how brief are his and no one can take them away from him. He reads and scoffs at the letter that his second gives to him. "The new Justiciar wants to see me. There seems to be a lot of summoning happening today. It seems as though more important things are always superseded by unimportant ones. But I'll go see this Justicar.," said Alfred.

[User]
Sigrid shook her head. That seemed to be the response the old man wanted. "Perhaps not," she said, wrapping the warm blanket around herself after squeezing the water from her hair. "It's very kind of you to lend your home to me." A magnificent home it was, too, if a little bare. Unlike the manor houses she was privileged enough to see the inside of, the inside was not as opulent as the outside. No jeweled candle-holders hung from the ceiling, and the furniture was rough and built purely for function. Luxuries that Angle lords would keep for themselves, like marble and glass, are completely omitted.

Small minutes later, she was shivering on one of the chairs, occasionally contributing a sneeze to the silence. "I feel like I'm intruding on your hospitality," she said, putting a hand up to her own forehead. Her hands felt like ice, as did the very air around her. "Is there anything I could do to make me feel more deserving of it?"

[Assistant] "It was my Urdr, my fate, to be trapped behind these bars. I go only where fate takes me and fate shall provide my escape soon enough." Kjalr's eyes flitted between his sword and her circlet. "I am Kjalr Svensson of Skaggerak. Who are you Noblewoman?"

[User]
A gaunt man in dark robes strode through the militia training field on his horse as the rain went from a gentle shower to a steady downpour. He seemed unbothered by the rain, while the slave behind him tightened her cowl. He stopped his horse in front of the commander and his second.
"Alfred, I presume?" he said, more a statement than a query. He glanced briefly back at the militia men before returning his gaze down to the commander. "Your men seem battle ready."

---

Winoc brought his guest a small bowl of soup; a watery concoction of cabbage, potatoes, and hunks of pork. Perhaps not the most appetizing, but certainly warm and filling. "In time, Sigrid, in time. You're not the first of your people to find yourself here." he said, taking a seat nearby. Mildemaer seemed to have disappeared elsewhere into the home. "For now I'd just like to know what brought you to this land."

---

Khan
The woman shook her head at his answer. "Did passively following fate lead you to the abbey in Gloucestershire? Did you learn to swing your sword through iron and flesh as if calmly floating down a stream? Wyrd nurtures no man, Kjalr of Skaggerak; you must conquer it and rip your destiny from it's jaws." She withdrew a simplistic bronze charm from the sleeve of her cloak and tossed it at his feet. "My name is Hwithryth. I'm the lady of this land, and the only person you can trust within these walls."

[Assistant]
Kjalr bent to pick up the charm, his eyes widening in surprise as he held it in his palm.

 "This is the rune Tyr. This was made in my homeland. How came you by this, Briton?" He fingered the etched bronze and locked eyes with the stranger. This was the closest he had come to home in many months. Maybe even a year? He could not remember. It made him long for his family. Suddenly everything was clear to him. "You said I could trust you, right? Can you get me out of here? Please, I'd be indebted."


[System]
Age: 19

Gender: Male

Race: Boar Faunas

Equipment:

Annabeth - A massive Weapon with the combined traits of multiple heavy weapons, packing as much firepower that could be carried by Gren. The main component is an eleven barrel Gatling Gun capable of spewing out a storm of bullets to fill the air with lead. Attached below of the main barrels is a Rocket Launcher loaded using a revolver mechanism, allowing six rockets to be shot before it needs reloading. And next to that is a flame thrower that defaults to a napalm base substance, however it can be augmented with dust crystals to give different or enhanced effects.

In addition to the ranged capabilities of Annabeth, she's equipped with what appears to be a large Axe underneath the main guns. However with a simple trigger pull, the axe comes to life and reveal that it's actually a chainsaw. While in its chainsaw mode, dust can be used to empower Annabeth's strikes.

Hunter Armor - Gren often dons what appears to be a simple yet heavy suit of alloyed steel armor to protect him from harm even should his aura go down. However there's more to the suit than meets the eye: Located on the calves, back, chest, shoulders, and thighs are powerful rocket thrusters. These thrusters assist Gren's mobility, allowing him to mentally command them to push his body in directions he needs to go that he normally could not move quickly enough on his own. They give enough force to give him substantial speed in short bursts, allowing him to dodge attacks in split seconds. Additionally, as these thrusters are highly effective engines, they are also equally powerful weapons for any for who's too close to the various ports located around Gren's armor. He can adjust the direction and output of each port as needed.

Cybernetics - Gren is almost entirely cybernetic, with only parts of his brain, his liver, spinal cord, and heart being organic. And even those parts are further augmented or reinforced with cybernetics. The rest of Gren's body utilizes bulky but powerful synthetic muscles with an armored and padded skeletal frame to further increase Gren's natural toughness. In addition to a more durable frame Gren has gadgets built into his head to provide a variety of utility.

Gren has the ability to perceive perfectly on darkness, emulating his original darkvision. He is also capable of utilizing an OS entirely in his mind, allowing him to emulate the functions of a cell phone and personal computer without additional hardware. He can access the internet, make phone calls, bring up a GPS, write word documents, watch videos, and even record up to eighty hours worth of images and sounds.

Specialty: Gren is a tough guy, but he's more of a meat shield than a bonefide tank. He draws fire from foes by being the biggest and easiest threat to hit (Though perhaps not to damage), as well as ensuring that his foes cannot escape from him. Gren's primarily role is the heavy weapon specialist, dropping a payload of fire and death upon tough enemies and fortified structures in order to complete the mission. Gren is capable of one-on-one combat, however do expect a lot of collateral damage regardless how easy or difficult the fight becomes.

Semblance:

Friction - Malakaus can control the level of Friction he's putting onto an object or objects that touch him. This allows him to do such things as slide across rough terrain, walk on walls and water, and more importantly, keep himself rooted when he's using his weapon. He can extend his Friction to other thing's he's touching to an extent.

He also capable of imparting a set Friction level to objects or targets he touches even if they leave his range, however this effect only lasts for five minutes. Afterwards they resume their original Friction levels.

Personality: While his weapon makes him seem rather blood thirsty and he likes a good fight, Gren has learned to not try to violently kill everything and found new hobbies, like picking up his mother's interest in flowers and herbalism and cooking. Because sometimes Gren get's hungry, and he likes to eat tasty things. Gren see's himself as a sort of protector/apex predator who reserves the right to enforce his authority on others, but worries about people's well-being first and his authority second. He can get very sadden when he thinks that he did something wrong, or simply didn't do something enough. He cares about things under his protection a lot, even when they don't need his protection or what his concern. In a fight he can lose himself easily and once he gets going he's hard to stop. He likes tinkering and has a natural ability to put together ramshackle machinery that by all rights shouldn't be working. Gren has a problem dealing with authority however; as previously mentioned he has a tendency to throw his own weight around even if he isn't the one in charge. While he can follow directions easy enough, he's just as capable of taking over an operation without even considering how it would undermine the efforts of everyone else involved.

Color: A vibrant verdant color like that you'd see in a grassy field one summer's day.

Emblem: Like his surname, Gren's emblem is an orchid. The petals appear more axe-shaped however.

Appearance:

[User]
Priscilla was so ready to start this session! This was basically her territory, she had a widen smile on her face but it was soon to be a frown when she heard Ms.Vanhomirgh. "What did I do NOW?!" she thought to herself before turning her attention to the professor. So, basically they couldn't use their own weapon now..? Well that was bullshit because she wanted to use her weapon..! Priscilla was only good with her weapon, not no damn stock rifles. This was bullshit written all over it and it was embarrassing with Robert being in the same room as her. The pink-haired teenager just nodded her head, not even speaking one word to Ms.Vanhomirgh, ever since the obstacle she has been really mean to her and that was getting Priscilla a bit mad. Yeah, she didn't hear for the instructions but... talk to her nicely and calm. That is how an instructor suppose to be have with a student right? Professionally. This wasn't. She wasn't.

As Priscilla got back to the firing line, she quickly reloaded, this time did everything that the instructor has told them. If someone were to look at Priscilla, they would see a focused angrily girl staring at the target. She was really focused that she forgot where she was, as soon as the paper target appeared. Priscilla squinted her left eye, and shot fire..! The bullets went through the paper target, though, they were perfect shots. This happens regularly when she is mainly focused on one thing, which was the target. After this, Priscilla doesn't want to do anything else, even if it could fail her grade.

[Assistant]
Survival on the Rapids

Even with the pallets' favorable design, navigated the river without falling into it required a great deal of conversation. Vorosky opened fire on the innocent riverbank in order to use the recoil to propel himself away from a outcrop of rock jutting up from the riverbed. The unpleasantly familiar sound of rapidly-beating wings reached him from over the water, and when the professor looked ahead he was disheartened to see a small flock of harpies incoming. Vorosky managed to bring down two of the avian Grimm with short, controlled bursts from his rifle, but the sharp-minded monsters split up after that, targeting students one or two at a time. One harpy swooped down on Vorosky almost vertically, threatening to topple him into the rushing whitewater. While he managed to block the thing's killer talons with his weapon, the harpy closed its claws around the gun instead and yanked hard, disarming the professor. With a sigh, he pulled a pistol from his belt and unceremoniously ventilated the Grimm's mask.

The scuffle had pivoted him around so that he was facing upstream; while not a desirable outlook for such a perilous situation, it enabled Rayna's questions to be heard. "Anomalies have only one use! The portal we came in by is one-way. The closest way back is right in front of upcoming waterfall! In just a few moments we will be there..." here the professor was interrupted by a brilliant light and a thundering crack, signaling that Abel had left a harpy thunderstruck and drowning in the river. The guardian barely had the time to reset the Ampere to blade mode before an overhanging branch almost knocked him into the water. If not for his low, kneeling profile, he would have been. Vorosky continued, "And follow me exactly!"

A steady roar, growing in volume with every meter, heralded the dreaded waterfall's approach. Abel cast a worried glance back at Oswald, the closest to him. After Oswald came Daniel, then Greyson, then Sangue, then Gren, then Jack, then Rayna, then Mokuren, and finally Sarina. The combat teacher's aide seemed to be dealing with the worst of it, having been the last to join the riverbound procession. Though Abel could barely see them from his own position, Itzamna and Salamanders ran along the riverbank, with the former jumping across rocks and from trees while Salamanders spat caustic fluid at her. Sarina, however, armed with the radiant red and blue light of her semblance, the Empress of the Stars. Aglow with the powers of war and peace, she moved with enhanced speed and struck with augmented strength, all the while forcing the Grimm to concentrate on her. Even Abel found himself oddly attracted to Sarina, despite the situation. He shook it off -was that an effect of her semblance?- and focused on what came ahead. A harpy came at him, shrieking, but he dissuaded it with a swing of his Ampere. Looking for another target, it went after Greyson instead.

Up ahead, Vorosky had reached the waterfall. He sedately produced a washer and threw it forward. The air just on the precipice of the cataract shimmered, and Vorosky leaped into the anomaly. Abel, next in line, brought out his own washer, and fingered it nervously. He could honestly say that this was simultaneously one of the most frightening and most exciting experiences in his life to date. The roar of the waterfall forced him to focus, and he lobbed his washer after the professor. To his dismay, it sailed over the edge, and plummeted to the maelstrom far below. Trying to keep his panic at bay, the guardian pulled off one of his gloves and threw it instead, hoping with desperation that the small metal chips on its knuckles would do the trick. Abel gulped and took the leap of faith. The world around him went dark, though whether it was the contortion of space that was teleportation, or the tumult of a raging river, he could not tell.

The world came back, and Abel realized that he was, in fact, underwater. Bubbling and scared, he tried to swim, only to hit a hard surface. Puzzled, he pushed off of it, and abruptly surfaced. In an instant he realized where he was: the fountain right outside the front entrance of Beacon academy. Smiling down at him was the scruffy, pitted face of an unmasked Vorosky. "You survived! A plus!"

If he hadn't been tired, or terrified, or tremendously relieved, Abel might have punched the may. As it was, however, he wearily pulled himself out of the fountain to make way for the next person. The bells signaling the end of fifth period started to chime as he did, making Abel remember that despite all that he had just gone through, there was still another hour of school. "Ugh."

-=-=-

Coach Ahriman Agesander – PE

After a few moments in which Ahriman looked somewhat likely to erupt into a cantankerous discourse, the man's good nature won out and his treated Aurellius to a shrug. "Works for me I guess. Next time though, I will indeed be more specific."

After a few more minutes of struggling on the remaining students' parts -Ivan, Jayden, Sapphire, and Victor never managed to get the newly-replaced medallion at all, while Benjamin and Geni got it only after tremendous effort- the passing bell resounded through the school and Ahriman dismissed the class. "You kids didn't do too badly, for your first day, but remember this: if you want to make an impact on the world, nothing less than your best effort and your best dedication will suffice. If you do not wish to give it your all, you've come to the wrong academy." Those ominous words echoed off the gym's walls. Ahriman smiled. "See you next time!"


[System]
Nickname(s): Roze (Used more commonly by friends), Rozie, Roza.

Gender: F

Age: 11

House: Ravenclaw
Appearance:

Try ignoring her hair and eye colour, as it changes quite often. Depending on her mood, they'll change colours, which is fairly unavoidable. More often than not, she'll have blonde hair, as she has a naturally happy disposition, and her eyes will be a warm amber colour. Blue is sad, black is pain, red is anger... you get the idea.
Other than that, she stands at a short height, with just the slightest beginning of curves along her slim body. With a pale, heart-shaped face (Although when very happy, her skin will often warm up to a healthy tan) and a sweet, dimpled grin, she often looks a few years younger than her actual age.

Just thought I'd put this on so you guys know what she's feeling when her colours of hair/eyes change.
Happy – Gold
Sad – Blue
Pain – Black
Tired/bored – Grey
Curious – Purple
Amused – Pink
Envious/Jealous– Green
Angry – Red
Fear – White
Neutral – Brown

Sometimes if two or more emotions conflict, they'll create highlights in her hair or just blend together, so she can have some funky looking rainbow locks at some points. Also, the stronger the emotion, the more vibrant the colour - and the eyes only change if the emotion is strong. Like, if she got a cut on the arm or something, her eyes wouldn't turn black in pain - but multiple cuts or broken bones, they'll turn black.

Wand: 12 1/2 Inch wand, made of a springy and intricately patterned Apple wand, and a Phoenix feather core.

Pet: A black kitten called Sora - unknown breed.

Strengths: Whether it's because she is a form of Metamorphagi or not, Roze's Transfiguration abilities are astounding for her age - on top of all the extra research she's been doing, she's already practicing to be an Animagus, and is curious as to what form she'll take once she manages it. She also has an uncanny ability of picking up new languages, whether it be Tolkien's Elvish (Which she adores) Or Gobbledegook. Also a surprisingly good singing voice, although is very shy about it. On top of this, she's been trained in hand-to-hand combat from a fairly young age. Although far from being an expert, she knows enough to stop an older kid in his or her tracks. That's what you get from coming from a slightly paranoid military family.

Weaknesses: Is often easily anxious about things, and isn't uncommon for her to fret over seemingly silly things. Feeling the need to do the best she possible can in every subject - on top of all the extra activities she'll sign herself up for - she gets stressed out from too much work to do. On top of this, she has a certain naive outlook on things - this can lead to her easily walking aimlessly into danger, not considering consequences at the thought of knowledge; her temper hardly helps with that either. Although it takes quite a bit for her to blow, the outcome is far from pretty; not too dissimilar from a volcano.

Personality: Because of her introduction to the wizarding world, Roze is still amazed and overwhelmingly curious of all the new things in this world - already adding to her naturally inquisitive nature, this made her crave for more knowledge of her new existence. Suddenly, Muggle knowledge wasn't enough for her.
Although her curiosity and wit are her most overwhelming attributes, she has a great deal of bravery within her - and of course, bravery can often go hand in hand with wisdom, for sometimes you need to be brave to acquire knowledge. She has kindness and honesty, and above all, she values friends and those she loves. However, this can be a downside for her. She is big on protecting those she cares about, probably brought on by the loss of her Mother. Because of this, she can be almost obsessive in keeping people safe, not caring if it puts herself in harms way. It also gives her knack for making plenty of enemies.

History: Roze has known of the wizard world all of her life, thanks to her Mother's legacy; sadly, her Mam died shortly after Roze's birth during a raid gone badly - she had been an Auror - and her Muggle father was left with 2 half-blood children, and a lot of information he really shouldn't have known. Thankfully, what with being in the Army and all, he was used to being discreet. So, he tried to integrate as much of the Wizarding world into his children's lives as the Muggle world they lived in, but it was hard, considering his wife was dead and he had no real connection left to the wizarding world. Rozalia's elder brother - Leo - is about 10 years older than her, and works as a junior Auror in the Ministry of Magic. He still keeps in touch with her, often joining Roze and their Father on trips back to their family's home country of Italy.

NPCs:
Antonio "Tony" Éathliel - Rozalia's Muggle Father; a Sergeant in the UK Army, he came to the country at the age of 3 with his immigrant Italian parents. Both have passed away naturally a few years before the birth of his first child, Leo. He regrets this, and also regrets that Roze never got to know her Mother; Megara. Following his wife's murder, he became slightly paranoid, and sure that his wife's work would follow her home one day. Because of this, he made sure to keep Roza and Leo trained in different manners of combat. Although Roze is only 11 years old, she knows quite a bit in hand-to-hand combat, and can work her way around a knife too. In terms of magical combat, she seriously needs to work on it - something Tony worries over a lot.

Leo Éathliel - Rozalia's 21-year-old brother; following the death of his Mother, he vowed to knuckle down on his schoolwork and gain enough marks to become an Auror. Although going against his naturally, easy-going and fun-loving nature, he managed to pass all his OWL and NEWT grades, and joined the Auror's department with no trouble. He worries about his Father and sister a lot, but makes sure to keep them safe as much as possible. He works with his Uncle - Mother's older brother - in the Auror's office, still attempting to track down those responsible for his Mother's death. Although five of the murderers were captured, three escaped; and they're on his hit-list.

Robert 'Bobby' Thrussell - Megara's older brother, and the Uncle of Leo and Rozalia. An Auror for a good thirty years, Bobby has seen plenty of shit. But, he sticks with the job, just so he can track down the people who killed his sister and a few of his good friends. A genius when it comes to lore on various beasts and whatnot of the Wizarding world, he also likes to spend his time drinking and dealing with the various scumbags that come with the job of Auror. Despite all of this, he's like a second father to Roze and Leo - having babysat them more than a couple of times while their Father was on a tour. He's also an excellent primary resource for when Roze is stuck with her homework.

[User]
"Don't you dare say it, Ajax. No. Stupid question. Stupid." The New Zealander tried incredibly hard not to shout out 'Is abracadabra a spell?' just for the giggles. He drummed on his table as he listened to the drawl of the teacher in front of him. Despite being the master of the wandering mind, he absorbed the information like sponge does water. Or milk. Or any kind of liquid really. The information about the curses fascinated him. Was it possible to curse gas? Probably not, but it was definitely an interesting prospect. If one could have a spell so accurate that it could hit individual atoms was amazing. But, he was a muggleborn so he was silent throughout the lesson

Ajax palmed his face at homework. Of course there was homework. It was a school, a magic school but still a school. But class ended early. But the dungeons.... That was a bitch to navigate. Only through following the crowd did Ajax even get to the class early. He sighed, packing all his things. He contemplated not having internet for a year. No reddit, fanfiction, 4Chan, Roleplayerguild, facebook.....

The New Zealander smacked his face with a tired groan. "This is going to be a long seven fucking years." He muttered under his breath. He turned his attention to the front, where a group of girls talked to the teacher. He didn't pay them any mind but stopped at that (Layla) girl. He blushed and turned. He carried all of his books and walked out of the doorway.

Ajax stopped himself. "What the fuck am I doing?" He questioned himself. "Confidence. Confidence is key. Also be smooth. As smooth as you can." Giving yourself life tips on how to talk to a girl is a definite sign of craziness but it gave him a little confidence. He waited out side the doorway and waited for..... He didn't even know his name!

[Assistant] Sadria Quinn nodded as the students began to disperse, speaking to one another rather than to her. "Thank you for your attention today in class." She bowed her head politely. "I shall see you all again soon." Then she began to wander off down the hallway... Certainly not in the direction the students would go to get out of the dungeons.

[User]
The notes Nolan took were rather extensive. They were, in fact, probably more notes than anyone needed to take on their first day at Hogwarts. He didn't want to miss any important detail. Of course once he started doing relevant readings before class, he could pay better attention. His head was spinning already from the number of spells on that list that could be considered as "dark." He was pleased to see their lesson was over. It had been a long morning and he was looking forward to some food. It hadn't even been a full day and he was already starting to love Hogwarts food.

While some students went up and talked to Professor Quinn, Nolan turned to Caelum who complimented him on his approach to the class. "Really they were just questions you have when you grow up with a bunch of brothers already at Hogwarts." He laughed. He was sure this morning had already used up everything he'd picked up in the last few years. "I don't know about cursing the teaching post though, but she wouldn't give us something impossible right? I mean, we're all first years. Even the ones who aren't Muggle-born have never used magic before."

Caelum's various sketches did not escape his notice. They were... very good. He tensed for just an instant, but then smiled and pointed at them. "Those are pretty good. You can almost feel the spooky nothing behind the bars in the dark hallways." He laughed, glancing off to the side at the actual doorway. "Yeah, it's lunch. We should probably follow the crowd, cause I'll probably still get us lost."

He gestured to the group of students headed out the door, as well as Professor Quinn, whose departure told him it was best to get moving. It seemed getting back to the Great Hall was much easier than finding their classroom had been. While the four tables remained, it seemed the houses tended to mix more at lunch than at breakfast and dinner. He probably should make more friends in his own house. He sniffed the air, enjoying the smell. "What do you think of the food here?" he asked turning to Caelum. "It's much better than the food at any other school I've been to."

[Assistant]
Charlotte wrote down the list of spell types from the board, but didn't quite get how she was supposed to come up with something like how to invent a curse. She didn't know any magic yet, so making up her own didn't seem likely.

She took her notes with a pencil in a spiral notebook, and she shoved the pencil back into the metal spiral as she closed it and got up to leave with the rest of the class. It seemed like she had only just sat down, but she had been late.

She caught up to Layla on her way out as well, and waited and listened as she talked to the teacher about "unforgivable curses." She didn't know anything about that, but it was starting to seem like spell classifications were completely arbitrary.

When the teacher and student went their separate ways, Charlotte caught up to Layla and walked beside her.

"So what else do you know about spells?"


[System]
Alias in the DgtWld:
Maverick

Age:
22
Corrector Appearance:

Weapon of Choice and Fighting Style:
Swords and melee weapons

Riley uses a versatile fighting style that is primarily based around close combat with melee weapons. His Corrector Avatar combines a decent amount of dexterity with high physical strength and above agerage constitution. With no ranged attacks, he relies on being able to quickly close the gap between himself and his foes to engage in melee combat, where his high-damage saber and tough combat armor excel. Currently in the works for upgrades is a system that allows Riley to change his saber into different melee weapons, or a ranged component for his companion app, though at current he uses a long bladed saber with a two handed hilt.

In his spare time, Riley has managed to code and sneak himself a small companion app that runs alongside his Avatar. Nicknamed 'Spark', Riley's companion app is no bigger than a baseball, and generally hovers around his shoulder when not in combat. Spark serves as a basic interfacing unit, allowing Riley and his teammates to interact with the DgtWld around them and modify small bits if necessary- IE unlock/open doors, make lights. Spark currently has no means of attack other than loudly warning its companions that an enemy is approaching.

Cell Phone:

Music:
Grape Soda - Snail's House
Personality:
Perceptive, Streetwise, Easygoing, and Lazy

Hometown: London, England

Major: Criminal Justice and Sociology minor

Background:
The youngest child of two, Riley is the son of police officer and schoolteacher. His childhood was relatively mundane, consisting of getting middling to above average grades in school, and spending his time either playing outside with friends or playing computer games. Riley very much followed the trail of his older sister, doing or becoming interested in many of the things that she was. As his sister was rather sickly, and was often physically weak, Riley developed a strong, almost symbiotic relationship with his sister, the two of them sharing role of mutual caretaker as their father worked late at the department and his mother began prepping for a career as a university professor.

In high school, Riley scored relatively high marks despite his lax attitude. He adapted well as newer technologies started appearing- the DgtWld and the widespread use of phones and MChips. These newer technologies, coupled with Riley's progressive attitude and go-with-the-flow nature actually made it easier for Riley to excel in his classes and while still slacking off and helped propel him to the top tiers of his class. Stress began building for Riley near the end of high school, when his sister's health began getting increasingly worse, and his family began struggling to pay for both school and medical costs.

Upon graduating high school, Riley prepared to go to the University of London where his sister also attended school, majoring in Criminal Justice and sociology- two fairly similar fields. He planned on going into Law School afterwards- the higher income of a lawyer would help his family pay for his sister's increasingly expensive medical bills. He also took an interest in Computer Science classes, though lacked the work ethic to commit to a major or minor in the field and as a result dropped the subject.

After his first few weeks at University, Riley was contacted by Gvn and recruited into a group known as "The Correctors". Taking the job with a devil-may-care attitude, was surprised to find how much he enjoyed the career- it felt like playing a video game at times, and best of all- it paid for his college tuition, and would help pay for his sister's medical bills. Riley made a good fit as a corrector, and his concentration in the Criminal Justice field gave him an edge in apprehending and understanding those who would abuse the DgtWld for criminal purposes.

Now having spent several years as a Corrector, Riley is finally getting in the swing of being able to juggle his school and social life along with work and designated free time. His work as a Corrector has also resparked his interest in computers and technology- though at the caution of his teammates, keeps the interest low key and hidden. The bulk of his income as a corrector being squirreled away to help pay for his sister's hospital expenses and while her sickness is taking a toll on their family both financially and emotionally, Riley maintains a carefree persona when interacting with others.

[User]
Sasha

Looking to Maverick, Urkwia tossed him a light smirk. "Remind me to apologize later." She said sarcastically.

"I can wash these suckers out." She then told Archimedes, though she wasn't certain her water would pack the punch she was hoping for.

Urkwia watched as Maverick tried his best to hold steady while fending off the durable foes. She backed up toward the stairs, not sure they should flee the building or keep moving upwards. There would likely be other enemies to deal with if they progressed upwards but she had a feeling there had to be a reason there was such a swarm. Were they hiding something? She flung out her arm and sprayed water at a few hobbling golems that were still trying to make their way toward their trio of Correctors. She had to make a decision. Walk further into a trap with limited to no escape? Or find another vantage point?

"We stay the course, upwards and onwards!" She called out to the other two as she turned and hurried up the stairs, turning to shoot toward a few other enemies, noting that the water acted as sludge that seemed to slow them down, prevent them from moving so much. Hurrying up, she paused to let the boys go in front of her so she could bring up the rear. A good leader left no man behind. She ran after the boys as she washed the stairs in water, hopeful that would prevent them from climbing up and ambushing them.

With her heart racing, she looked around the second floor of the building. It was just as plain as the first floor. Urkwia noted what she thought were cabinet files though she had only seen them in films. She looked to the boys as they headed for the next set of stairs which were across the room on the opposite side. As they neared the staircase, none of them dropping their guard, it seemed there was a very old thick laptop waiting for them, propping on the stairs, blocking their path. Before she bent down to remove it, the screen blinked on, showing a bright blue background with white letting.

"Hello Correctors, welcome to my domain. You are on the right track to find the truth hidden among your daily lives which have been bathed in lies and greed. I am here to test your mettle, to see how brainwashed you are and to judge your merits. You can walk away now and tell your overlords that this was a glitch where no Hacker has been. That would be the truth, in one way. I am not a Hacker. However, you could stay and keep on the path you find yourselves on. Should you wish to continue and not trigger any traps, you must complete a few more tests. Where does your loyalty lie? In the Gvn that gave you everything you have today and made you who are are? Or are you loyal to truth, no matter what it reveals in its light or casts in its shadow?"

Shaking her head, Urkwia had no idea if this was a joke or a trick. Would the Gvn plant this to test them? Was there really some kind of conspiracy going on? Life around them showed no signs of unrest and yet Hackers loved to play games. Urkwia wasn't sure what to do but her gut was telling her to move forward. If this was a trick or a test by the Gvn, they would fail and likely lose their jobs. If it wasn't, did they need answers to questions they didn't even have? "I think we should keep going. Though something tells me whoever this is, has some worse tricks up their sleeves." She frowned. "What do you guys think?" She asked them.

What would await them on the third floor, would be a maze leading to the next set of stairs, on the other side of the building. The maze was made of tall silver-grey file cabinets, with stone creatures roaming and lurking in the shadows. All of this could be seen on the final floor, a woman sitting back in a soft brown leather chair, watching the Correctors squirm on her monitors. The woman hummed softly, hoping these Correctors would be the ones to take a leap of faith, to venture out of the cave and see the light and embrace the truth and the cruel world that bred it.

[Assistant]
Avory

Archimedes watched Urkwia spray down the front row of constructs from the stairs. Leaping to the stairs the young man emptied the last of the bullets in his magazine into the remaining constructs before ascending the stairs with practiced movements. Ejecting the spent magazine he replaced it with a materialized magazine from the mag pouch at his belt. Thumbing the slide release he didn't bother to look back down the stairs, Urkwia knew what she was doing and he needed to protect them from anything coming down the stairs. Bringing the gun back up he supported it with his left hand which was now grasping his knife.

Calling back down the stairs he addressed the series of puns "Please try not to bury me in that avalanche of puns." For all his buinesses like exterior, his deadpan humor dictated that he must inject at least one dad joke into any sort of conversation that was happening mid mission. This seemed like the perfect place to make both of them wish that they had kept their mouths shut.

"Also, it's not: Not Clear. Its Contact. Though I suppose I understood." Grinning to himself he continued to clear the stairs above them. Strangely he was a fairly decent choice to lead in an urban environment like this. Though he wished he had some sort of burst fire weapon or perhaps a shotgun. Archimedes made a mental note to at the very least download the pattern for Rip rounds the next chance he had. The jacketed hollow points he was using seemed to do the job most of the time but the damn golems had highlighted the fact that against inorganic enemies hollow points didn't really expanded the same way. Thank Christ that they were jacketed.

Once on the second floor Archimedes spread out to the right covering the right field of fire with his handgun, sweeping to make sure that nothing came charging at them from behind the filing cabinets. Urkwia took note of the laptop and made a beeline for it.

Reading the text Archimedes pursed his lips as he scanned through it. This had to be some sort of mind game. That or maybe a really fucked up training exercise but he gut told him that it was probably a hacker screwing with them. It made little sense for their superiors to send them into a test like this. It took them out of play when their could potentially be a real threat that popped up. Still…

Part of him was intrigued by the suggestions but the reality here was that it was another delusional hacker hiding behind the idea that they were somehow being responsible by causing a collision. Urkwia's question snapped his attention back.

"We need to do our job. Hacker sounds like they have some sort of superiority complex or perhaps a personality disorder. Use to see people like this all the time but we got a bit better at noting high machs and low empathy people in society so there has been a decrease in people like this. Though interestingly, I've been reading some of the old hacker briefs; it's amazing how many of them have personalities like this. I have to wonder if it's what causes them to do stuff like this."

This was why the Government needed more tools for dealing with people in general. Archimedes held back from voicing that particular sentiment. His own research was already sort of toeing a line when it came to this job.


[System]
"I am beauty, I am grace, I will punch you in the face"
i couldn't resist

Appearance
 A tall, heavily-built woman, Juniper's strength rivals those of most men. She reaches nearly 190 cm in height and weighs slightly more than 85 kg. Her raven-black hair is cut short, barely reaching below her chin, and she's cut her bangs short so they don't get into her eyes. Two strands of hair frame her face, reaching down to her high cheekbones and square chin. Juniper's tanned, despite being raised in a northern country, and has brownstone eyes with a slight shade of olive. Her lips are slightly plump and she's got a slightly curved nose.
 Juniper almost always wears battle gear - hers consists of a light iron chainmail, shoulder, elbow and knee guards made of steel and black leather knee-high boots.

Age
 26

Sex
 Cis-female, asexual

Weapon
 Axe

Asset
 Strength

Flaw
 Magic

Personality
 Alignment
 Chaotic Neutral. Juniper's ethics and morals are questionable, as she is quite ruthless and prone to putting her interests first, especially if the conflict is with strangers or people whom she does not care for. She is, however, caring for her close relatives and friends and is willing to help in battle. She doesn't really care for the law and wants to find easy or effective measures to achieve her goal, however, if punishment will be dealt or benefits gained, Juniper will reluctantly follow.

 She's very charismatic and self-confident, and will try to crack a joke in most situations where it's appropriate. Juniper's not the one for complex diplomacy, she prefers to solve problems through battle. It can be quite hard to stop her when she's angry or bloodthirsty. She has an affinity for good food and will probably spend most of her money on it, since she uses her gear and weapons until they wear out. Juniper believes that practice is superior to theory and will gladly spar with different people, be it mages or swordfighters.

Biography / History
 The only daughter of the royal family in Yoha, a matriarchal kingdom bordering the northern sea, she was born on one of the few sunny days. Unlike her mother, an incredibly peaceful lady and a great diplomat, Juniper showed that the battlefield was more comfortable for her than conference halls during her early days. She was a fast learner, and became an army recruit at the age of 17. Her outstanding skill with an axe and speed helped her survive and escape death even during massacres, yet it lead to more mourning than one could imagine.

 Her mother fell ill when Juniper reached late puberty. Despite the effort of Yoha's best doctors, she died shortly after her daughter reached 18, leaving the throne to the youngest Drev. With Juniper reigning, Yoha's politics took quite a turn to violence - their army soon almost effortlessly conquered the nearby lands, granting the kingdom more fertile soil and resources. They stopped the conquest after doubling the country's size and turning it into federation - it remained peaceful and open to foreigners ever since.

 At the age of 26, Juniper still has no husband, wife or any romantic interest. There has been a significant amount of suitors coming to her reign, most of whom, if not all, were rejected and sent back, even princes of some of the biggest countries of the continent.

[User]
Death does not discriminate. It cares not for your wealth, your pride, your strength or your honor. It can strike in an instant as the blade of an assassin, or torture its victims over years until finally releasing them into everlasting peace.

This place is not so different. With no memory of your arrival, no familiarity with those trapped beside you, you are the victim of death, subjected to the horrors regardless of your past. If the traps and monsters do not rip your life away in a blink of the eye, then time will become your greatest fear as your hope rots and your mind fades into a dull shell of your former self. If even then you persist, then you will suffer at the hands of those who did not.

Perhaps after all of this, you hold with desperation onto the idea that you'll see the light of day once again.
Perhaps.

If this is what drives you, then you better get climbing. The only way is up, and there's only one way to see what's at the top of...
The Tower

~Prologue~
Left In the Dark

Yes, climb and climb, you will. Give yourself goals, it would be all the more pleasing when you fail...

Cold, dry, empty, and most of all, dark. The enclosure that the adventures and nobles awoke in was about one hundred feet wide in both directions. A single torch rested on a pedestal in the center as well as torches along the walls gave the smooth dark stone of this room a color that mimicked rotting pumpkins, and this sickly coloration faded into blackness upward, the ceiling was beyond the depressing light's reach. Each of the people trapped in this room awoke one by one as if synchronized, each sitting up with a sudden start from the chilled floor and into the dusty and still air around them. The scent of musk was faint but apparent as they looked about, seeing one another scattered across the room.

[Assistant]
Sigrdrífa Rylo

Sigrdrífa's eyes popped open and she looked around. No danger, yet. A self check revealed she was fully armoured with a weapon and no visible injuries or signs of damage. Which left several questions. Why was she here, where was here, and who were these people with here? There about six other around the room, all seemed to have come awake at the same time. Eerie. Her eye's flicked around for search of an exit but the dark made it difficult to tell what was a dark wall and what was something else. Sigrdrífa took a step or two and pounded her spear butt against the floor and spoke decisively. "Sigrdrífa Rylo, knight of Jorhan. Current situation unknown."

Well there wasn't much else to say. She had no idea what sort of people were here and how they would react to someone taking charge. If needed she could do so but if there was a noble here she would be loath to make an enemy in such an unknown situation. Sigrdrífa scanned the face's of those still waking for their reaction, hopefully they were either like her and soldiers with no idea what was going on, or better yet, they had some semblance of what had happened. The fear that they would be bandits and of that ilk went unspoken and mostly unthought, such things would a waste of energy unless they proved themselves in time.

[User]
Ulrich Halechstin

Ulrich started to stir from his... sleep. He opened his eyes only to find that he seemed to be in someplace where the sun doesn't reach. He was still lying on his back. He propped himself up using his elbows and then looked around. There were torches lining the walls and then one on the pedestal. This place reminded him so much of when he saw Val's dead body. He felt a cold shudder run through his spine before he shook himself, reminding that he was not there anymore.

But then, where was he and how did he get here? Those questions remained in his mind as he continued to look around. Oh wait, there were other humans in there. About six of them and then one was already up and running and even spoke in such a way that she was taking charge. Not that he minded. He was a mercenary, so to say, and he's used to hearing orders and following them. He then finally stood up from his position. The others were just waking up from whatever trance they had been in.

"Ulrich Halechstin's the name. Mercenary by trade." The gray haired male said, to introduce him somewhat to those who could hear him. He wanted to know who he was trapped with. Hopefully, he could at least squeeze out some names from them. None of them were familiar after all and since they were all trapped inside, he might as well get to know them.

[Assistant]
Cato Mancha

Cato let out a soft groan as he opened his eyes and slowly raised his sore body from the hard ground. His eye adjusted to the low light quickly as he studied the room, he took note of the dreariness of the room, it was cold, dry and dark, like a dungeon. How did he get here. He wondered, did Miran nobles kidnapped him for ransom? Was he to be tortured then killed by assassins? There was so many possibilities and no answers as the only people in the room who were awake just looked just as confused as he was, it also didn't help him figure out their predicament when they said they were just a knight and mercenary, maybe the others still passed out were nobles or even royalty like himself.

Cato stood up fully then he wiped away the dust and dirt off his clean sliver chain mail shirt and pants. As he wiped away the muck off him he sees on the ground a Heal Staff, like the ones he used during his training, he breath a sigh of relief at he picked up the staff, feeling just right in his gloved hands, it looks like he won't be completely useless if he gets into a fight. As he strapped the the staff onto his belt he notices that there's vulneraries hanging off of his belt ready to be used. Cato thanked the kidnappers for letting him things to keep him safe, with the irony going over his head of thanking his kidnappers. Cato finally decided to speak up.

"I'm Cato Mancha, Crowned Prince of Mira and your local healer~" Cato said in a bright cheery tone, he decided he would just let everybody know his title so if they want him dead they should just kill him right away, he doesn't need secrets to feel safe, since he won't feel safe until he's back home. "It is nice to you meet you, Mister Ulrich and Miss...Sigrdrífa... did I say that right?"


[System]
Codename (Radio Call): Lancaster
Age: 30
Nationality: English
Role: Field agent
Appearance:

One of the last known pictures of George at Oxford University before leaving for new adventures, or so George called it.

George stands at an little more than average height of 6'1, with his dark, blue eyes and always well-styled brown hair. His face is of an elegant, English gentleman, with well-trimmed facial hair and an even better suit, which one can get an idea of his decent frame for upper-class man; not a macho-man by most means, but enough muscles to stand a fight.

Personality: George and Cassandra aren't too different from each other, his self-esteem matching hers just fine, his sarcastic comments (mostly directed towards her), and his will to accomplish a task by his way. But compared to Cassandra, George prefers to take more quiet and bloodless routes, usually involving espionage, diplomacy and hand-to-hand combat, though he does not shy away from a good gun-fight. He loves a good drink, his upper-class way of life, and himself of course. He does his best to go by the book, as long as it suits him well, and him too considers himself to be the more professional of the pair, stating that he does his work clean and smooth, while Cassandra always makes a mess, even if he ends up quite a few beds.

Service History: Born into prosperity on the 7th of April 1985, George never had a bad day in his life. His parents were both from a long line of rich merchants, land-owners, industrialists, diplomats and governors of Britain's past colonies, and it was only reasonable for George to follow in this path. He grew up on his family's estate in York, growing fond of the rich man's life and all that followed with it; swordsmanship, fox hunting, sailing, and women. He proved to be a good student too, going on to study law, international relations and politics at no other than at Oxford.

Like his father, grandfather, great grandfather and so on, George entered the armed forces to serve Queen and country, preferably as a fighter pilot or an officer, ending up as the latter after discrete encouragement from "unknown sources" with tons of money. Even for the obvious effect of the money, George was actually a decent army man, showing potential for SAS, though this is where his official records stops. As far as the public knows, George is serving down Iraq in the army.

-Top Secret-
Sierra Vanguard

Codename: Lancaster
Service record: Infiltrating several Russian arms-dealer groups; military and political espionage in China, Venezuela, Iran, Serbia, Egypt and Syria; assisting rebel forces and governmental forces in different civil wars and conflicts; retrieving key-components from North-Korean nuclear program...Classified.
Speaks five different languages, practices six different martial arts, skilled in use of light, medium and heavy firearms, expert in diplomacy, deception and espionage. High-value agent. Possible future confrontation with agent Liberty. Under evaluation.

Other: Like the spoiled upper-class man he his, his car of choice is a silver Aston Martin DB AR1 for which he loves dearly. Having given a lot of love and money (mostly money), the car is on top shape, and can compete with any new car anytime, anywhere, anyhow. In terms of phones, he always uses the newest of the Samsung Galaxy series, with plenty of useful gadgets that make him feel like James Bond, only better of course. And finally he always dressed as a proper gentleman, be it a clean-cut tailored suit of the finest Italian cloth or anything else fitting the occasion. Women turn their heads to take a look at this good-looking, finely dressed man, and George enjoys every second of it.

[User]
Somewhere in London, England

Martin walked past the guard, nodding as he went through the first door. The room was spacious, wide open, with a glass view on the Thames outside. Blacked out glass, it almost acted as one way mirror. Walking towards the second retinal scan, he moved his eye in front of the laser, and a simple shot fired light at the back of his right eye, catching who this was. Martin Duncan Thatcher, Head of Sierra Vanguard, and most of the details that propped up on the guard's computer had black bars through it. The bald 45 year old section leader was nodded through, as the two heavy lift doors opened, Martin entering inside. Exhaling, the door shut, as he was taken down.

The lift doors opened, the facility small underneath MI5, but significant. It was a concrete cell, a basement below a basement, and probably could double as a nuclear bunker. 20m below the ground was deep, after all. The first corridor was thinly decorated, with few pieces to indicate you were in a top-secret, black ops espionage agency's room. Walking forward, Martin opened the door second on the left, walking into the office. It was nicely decorated, and definitely, appeared to be a warm, welcoming place compared to the cold concrete outside. It had a carpet, an oak desk, and a computer on it, though was nestled to the side and clearly looked a little more complicated than your standard affair, with a projector of sorts sat next to it. Taking a seat on the large black leather chair, he brought up the satellite feed, and picked up the tags of Lancaster, Liberty, and Cavalier. They were having fun in that hot hellhole, playing at secret identities. Gosh, it was good fun. Reminded Martin of his days as a field agent, it was good, but it had to end. This was something he did better, after all. Running things. The order of life. Taking a bottle of scotch on his desk, he gave it a whiff, before pouring a measure. He had to check on progress with Drevan, and he needed a drink.

----

Meanwhile....

Somewhere in Peshawar, Pakistan

The hashish bar was smokey, and smelled distinctly of one thing. Thom, or Cavalier, had thought to ask before they entered about the substances they smoked in here. It turned out, one such substance was one that Thom was very happy indeed that existed here in some form or measure. The hash was of excellent quality, and from the pipe, Thom took a good inhalation. Like Lancaster, they were dressed locally, and disguised locally. It was amazing what make up artists could do this day. He really did look like he was some sort of trader, tanned appropriately and wearing the correct clothes, worn to a correct degree to make him look just poor enough. A beard that he'd grown for the last few days had given him the full Hindu Kush look.
"This is most excellent hashish, Sadiq." He said, Thom's Pashto sounding local, and authentic. He had put practice into it, and smiled, as he inhaled again, laughing.
"I am very glad to hear it, Hussain! It is locally sourced, the money goes straight to local farmers. And those local farmers, they fund us! So I don't blame them at all. It is an excellent deal." Sadiq responded, the man sitting across from Thom with a pipe of his own, inhaling madly. He was a contact of a local Taliban leader, of whom Lancaster and Cavalier were here to take down a notch. English-born Mohamed Hassam was making moves, and it didn't look good. They were here to stop him before he decided that another valley would fall from the Pakistani government, and as radical as the latter was, it was better than having the Taliban around. Him being in Peshawar was perfect, and a snatch and grab was due in progress. The fact that Sadiq probably was affiliated with Hassam was why Lancaster and Cavalier were smoking pipes with him.
"Some more, my guests?" He asked, looking accross the bar, another six people reading books, and inhaling from the herbal pipes, this little place cosy and warm. The carpeted floor and comfortable seats were pleasant, but Thom knew how this would end. They'd get what they needed to know, and before Sadiq knew it, his session would be over indeed.

----

Walking into Drevan's cave of a tech room, he watched the hacker at work, standing in the door.
"You look like a man who needs some Scotch." Martin simply stated, walking inside, watching Drevan at work.
"I need you to keep tracking Hassam, one way or another. Liberty should be giving you eyes soon." Martin said, as he adjusted his bluetooth headset that he pulled from his pocket, putting it on, nodding to Drevan, as the comms link went through. Martin had let Liberty take her role in this operation, knowing full well what Lancaster and Cavalier would do. Cassie knew best when it came to environments like this. Hardline Islamic terrorists in a country where Sharia was the law; Martin would give Liberty the choice in terms of how she would follow her target, without arousing any suspicion, though no doubt it would be unorthofox.
"Liberty, it's Kingmaker. Lancaster and Cavalier are busy at the Hashish establishment talking to Sadiq. We're going to pull what we can from them. Keep following him, don't expose yourself. Remember your role. Find him, find out where he's going, and set up a trap to pull him out of that area, preferably alive." Martin said, as he looked to Drevan, the suited section leader looking firm and secure in his expression.
"Have the UGV ready. If this goes to shit, you need get them backup, fast. Keep monitoring the cell phones too, we might get a snippet of something soon."

[Assistant]
Drevan Kaii, a middle aged, strawberry blonde man quietly sat in front of the flaring brightness of about sixteen monitors, the hum of seven, fifty terabyte servers whined behind him, five two terabyte HDD, fourteen gig RAM towers snuggled under the table to one side allowing him five keyboards, five mice and a set of surround sound speakers just in case. Drevan is so used to the sound he doesn't even hear it not one bit. But he does hear the conversations coming from the agents mics and other audio pick ups that he had secreted in their kit.

Looking over to one of the many monitors forming a semi circle, three layers tall above and around him, he checks to make sure that there are no traces on any of the back doors that he had installed in the computer systems near the operation area. He sniffed softly then blinked as one of the monitors blinked. At that time he heard Martin walk in. He waved as he turned the camera on the monitor on. "Bastion! Hey man. You find what I'm looking for?" The face of a Guy Fawkes mask looked back at him. The voice of a young man responding, "Yeah we got the code. This is verging on Black Hat here, Factor. We can't be tied to this." Drevan nodded, "Don't worry about it Bastion just give me the code and I'll do the rest. No one will know. I promise you." The Skype window soon had a code written into the chat area. Which Drevan copied and sent over to another screen to be used for something else. Drevan smiled, "Thanks Basti. I'll talk to you later." He signed out of the Skype call then looked to Martin, "A drink to calm my nerves boss? I guess it couldn't hurt. Do I need to go mix my own?"

Drevan turned back to the screens then smiled, "Keeping Hassam shouldn't be too much of a problem. Having eyes on the ground would help yes. But...I think I just got some eyes in the sky. Old friends of mine got the codes to a UAV that's in the air. And I've...ummm...appropriated it. The US Military will never know it's missing mind."

He smiled brightly, keying into Liberty's channel, "Liberty, Bugcatcher here, pull the switch now on your camera would you? I'm going to need eyes on the ground just in case." He reached over and slaved a monitor to the video feed he hoped came soon. He looked up at Martin, "Don't worry Boss I've got them covered. And the UGV is tucked away, and can role out in seconds. I made sure it has a pair of L86A1 LSWs slaved into it, and a Mk47 Striker onboard as well just in case. If push comes to shove and the team needs help there's a nice multinational unit down there that will really screw up people's minds if it gets too damaged to use."

He looked up sharply, then scooted over, "Excuse me a second boss. My worms just located a search on Hassam. Lemme see to this." His fingers began to fly.