[System]
Appearance:

Class: Mercenary

Age: 21

Sex: Male

Weapon Rank: Sword Rank: D

Equipment: Bronze Sword, Vulnary x1

Skills:

Strong Riposte
When the enemy triggers the battle, damage +3.

Espirit de Corps
When supporting another unit, he increases their damage done, and decreases damage taken.

Plot subjective: Yes. Go crazy with it.

Personality: Bright and cheery, Guillame wears his clothes loose and his heart on his sleeve. Emotional and headstrong, he often acts before thinking, which gets him in trouble more often than not. He has a penchant for dance and reverie, and is always up for a spot of fun. A deeply supportive person, he cares for his comrades both on and off the battlefield, always willing to lend a hand when and wherever needed.

Biography: Guillame was born a peasant in the Rosanne countryside. The oldest of 4 children, he was used to taking charge and being authoritative even from a young age. When he wasn't working in the fields with his parents, he could be found play-fighting with his friends, or generally goofing off. Guillame still remembers his disaffection with the appointing of the Grand Cleric Vanessa: His father had explained to him that she had come to that position because she had found an stone of some sort. Guillame came to the conclusion that finding colorful rocks on the ground was no proper basis for a ecclesiastical hierarchy, and hasn't quite gotten over it yet. He has yet to make pilgrimage to the Grand Cathedral, and has no particular love for the church.

Still, he has something of a patriotic streak, and was more than willing to report when he was conscripted into the Rosannean army. Surprisingly, military life was a good fit for him, and he soon found his way through the bureaucratic ladder to his position of Aide-de-camp, where his dogged dedication to the rules of war and warfare gave him an ethical grounding in the otherwise dubious moral nature of war. With the rumors of a crusade making their way among the ranks, Guillame has felt less confidant in his standing in the Rosannean army, and has even considered desertion.

6 is the magic number.

[User]
Bern stood outside his tent, one of his cavaliers rode up and got off bowing. "My lord... We found another village in need of cleansing. It is to the south, three hours march. If we leave now we can take the village before night fall." The soldier said his head remained bowed.

Bern smiled. "Good work brother, Naga will reward your service. Drink and rest we will leave in an hour." He patted the man on the shoulder, nodding for the other riders to do the same. There mounts could also rest, they were camped at oasis where the horse could move easily and drink freely. Bern stepped up the center of the camp, a top a few boxes that held rice and other goods they carried. "The main army will leave with me in thirty minutes, the scouts report heretics to the south of us. We will teach them the error of there ways to save our children and all future generations pain that the Fell dragon has caused." He told them as the fighter and soldiers cheered, proud to serve the young Monk who would give such a great future.

Bern smiled and then stepped down, he prepared his travel bags. In the true style of a Monk he then began to walk, leading the band of holy warriors forward, marching them across the sands until they saw it. A large village probably three hundred people or so, it even had walls and a bell tower. Bern called for Genna, his archer. "Genna, be a dear and kill the watch man in that tower so our advance is not spotted." He smiled cruelly knowing that with no warning this would be a slaughter.

The young archer, she couldn't have been over eighteen nodded and pulled back her bow. The arrow flew swiftly and cleanly, striking the old man mind who was minding the bell. He collapsed to the floor, the arrow through his neck as he reach for the string trying to warn his sons, his granddaughter, all of them. He couldn't reach however and darkness soon took him.

With the alarm down a sand storm approaching he nodded. "All forces forward, use the storm as cover get up to the gates and knock them down!" He said throwing his arm forward as casting the wrath of his warriors upon them. With that they charged, Genna stayed at Bern's side. She was his bodyguard, loyal to the end no doubt Bern had rescued her of course she couldn't remember but everyone said he had saved her and thus she believed it. When the storm had passed the gates were broken, blood running into the streets.

Bern slowly walked into the town, brushing the sand from his white robes. "Bring all survivors to the square." He said, crying and the occasional scream was heard as about ten women, two men and three children were brought into the square. "The men first." Bern said as both were brought forth drawing forth his book. "Do you renounce Grima and accept Naga as your savior?" He asked them both, the first blood into eyes. The second had gotten free of bonds, producing a knife from his sleeve lunge up trying to stab at Bern. The Monk didn't even flinch when Genna shot an arrow threw the mans hand and in to the others mans neck. "Women next." Was all Bern said as he wiped the blood from his face.

"Surely you ladies wish to renounce Grima and join the Church." He said giving them a warm smile, as it would rub away the mass murder he was committing in their own homes. One woman cried, the other just stared defiantly. "Execute them away from the children." He said as then looked at the kids. "Release them, they can wander the desert perhaps Naga will save them. We won't kill more than we have to he said if some kind of saint. With that he turned Genna left to go help perform the executions. Yet when Bern turn his back a young girl gripped the book she had hidden and cast her dark magic at the Monk. It hurt for a moment yet it only surveyed to annoy him. "You little animal! I was going to let you live!"

The child shrunk back as scared, she didn't want to die... She just wanted him to pay for killing her mother and father. She hugged her brothers trying to shield them as the Monk prepared to cast. Then it happened a raven rushed down from the sky and took the spell meant for her. "What is this?"

A boy smiled. "Heya dead man!" He giggled as suddenly more and more dark mages teleported in, bandits began to jump the walls and attack his soldiers. "My names Sules, guess your the jerk whose been killing my people?" His smile didn't fade as if magically plastered on. "Do you want to know how it feels to be eaten alive by ravens... Cause I can do that." His voice sounded angry as he lifted his other hand, hundred of the feathered fiends circled over the town now. One of the priests and Genna rushed to his side, the priest prepared to teleport them as the swarm of bird parted and began to dive at random warriors. They teleported away abandoning the troops quickly as the three headed back towards the camp.

Meanwhile among the army they had left Vera had arrived. The queen of the bandits laughed as she positioned herself by the gates. "Slaughter them to the last boys! Make these Naga loving bastards pay for it all! No one raids Plegia and lives to speak of it!" She cut down two clerics who scream and tried to escape, Sules laughed as the dark mages weaved curse's and defiled their opponents with black magic. Vera and Sules, two of the most feared warriors in Plegia renowned for there lack of remorse and love of violence.

Bern cursed as they trudged back towards camp, he would have to rejoin the main force now. The one he had positioned near the border between Ylisse and Plegia. Damn those Grima worshiping mad men, they had cost him some of his best warriors in this battle. Still he had Genna and one healer left, perhaps he could tell the others that a traitor caused this failure. Cast blame on to another and then simply force them in to admitting so they might die in peace, a simple plan, though unoriginal, perhaps he could think of a new one.

[Assistant]
Chloetta went around the Church Camp tending to the wounded. "Wounded" made it seem a little bit less serious than it was as most of these men were able to fight through the pain for Bern and the Church of Naga overall. Some wounds though could not be most easily healed through magic and made them unable to fight.

Still, it was the desert and Plegia was not the most caring of places, with neither the landscape nor the natives. Regardless of Grima worship or not, the people of the country were not happy to have their citizens attack. If Chloetta could do anything more to stop the violence she would, but sadly there was little she had the ability to do.

"The main army will leave with me in thirty minutes, the scouts report heretics to the south of us. We will teach them the error of there ways to save our children and all future generations pain that the Fell dragon has caused." A voice called from the center of camp. A voice she was all but too familiar with at this point.

"So it's another slaughter, is it Bern?" The troubadour asked herself. If she were to say that to Bern himself. . . Well, she didn't want to think of that branch of fate. Still, she thought that she needed to stay behind to make sure the injured didn't try something stupid and told one of the soldiers to spread that she would stay back in the camp. As they left, she wondered just what horrible atrocities the soldiers would commit in the name of Naga.

---

Hours later and Chloetta had mostly finished all that she could do for her patients. For now, she just needed to keep a eye on them and sit back for a bit. The injured that were awake were thankful enough and praised Naga for her abilities. In their place, she'd have done the same but could only wonder why Naga continued to allow those that called themselves her servants to go about executing others for their beliefs. "With everything calm, perhaps now was a good time to check on Franz." Chloetta considered to herself before letting the conscious soldiers know what she was doing and to call if something happened. Some gave a smile and let her know they'd call if needed. The horse hadn't been fed much, so now was as good a time as any to make sure that happened. She placed out his food when she heard noises from one of the entrances to the camp.

"So the army returns." She muttered to herself and grabbed her staff, ready to heal the injured. To her surprise though, there was no army. Just a few people. Bern, the stubborn and malicious man he was, Genna, his archer, and a priest. So many things could have happened but she only needed to ask. "What happened? Though, I guess before that I should ask if any of you are injured." She showed her staff to them offering aid if they needed it.


[System]
19 | Werewolf

Appearance

Sierra weighs approximately 130lbs and stands at a staggering 5'3. She's solidly built, with a well-muscled body, the result of an active lifestyle. Her features seem somewhat mixed in ethnicity, though clear features such as a wide nose, olive skin, almond-shaped eyes and a short, round face hint at mixed Inuit heritage. Her hair is black and cropped messily short (like this), and her eyes are golden brown.

Sierra sports scars like bumper stickers. The most noticeable is a set of three long, jagged lines which rip from below her right ear, over the corner of her jawbone and down to the crook of her collar bone. She also has a little, jagged wedge missing from her left ear, and lots of little nicks around her throat and ankles. These are more noticeable in her humanoid form, and covered by her thick fur when transformed (although the nicks around her ankles and cut in her ear are visible).

Upon her arrival at Luce Prima, Sierra is a little skinnier than normal, and her hair has grown out to more of a messy bob. When transformed, her coat is shabby and in relatively poor condition.

Personality

Sierra lived a secluded life with very little exposure to people other than her own kind. As such, some of the intricacies of human and other cultures are lost on her. She can carry on a conversation pretty normally, but when it comes to sensitive or impolite topics, Sierra doesn't really know when to stop. Honestly, it just doesn't occur to her that not everyone may want to hear about the subtle art of breaking a rabbit's neck in graphic detail.

Having lived a very structured life, Sierra always subconsciously searches for her "place" in new relationships. She is very apprehensive of strangers, having been taught not to trust them. While she wants to become more self-sufficient, Sierra is generally more comfortable when someone else is calling the shots. Her life until now had very clear roles, and as such Sierra is very sensitive to authority, and very unlikely to challenge it.

This structure continues on an emotional level. Sierra has a very thick skin and instead of getting angry, she is far more likely to take her lumps and laugh it off with eyes downcast. She'll fight if cornered, but flight is normally her preferred option. To her, "normal" is being the butt of every joke and the outlet of frustration, and as such has trouble asserting herself. However, under the submissive exterior one can see a wild spirit with no mean bone in her body.

Sierra was, in fact, raised by wolves. Perhaps even more literally than others of her kind. While many other werewolves live among humans and hide themselves, or try to coexist, Sierra was raised exclusively around other werewolves in a remote village in the expansive forests of northern British Columbia. Her pack consisted of her immediate family (herself and her father) and the families of her uncle and aunt, who each had several children, of which Sierra was the youngest. The parents loathed humans, drawing on stories told to them by their elders of how the humans forced the Children of Dusk into exile. As such, the children never saw the world beyond the many hectares of forest they called theirs, though the adults sparingly (and grudgingly) traded with humans of the nearest towns, selling furs to buy what they couldn't provide for themselves.

Sierra's family pack was very close, however that didn't mean things were all fun all the time. No, her father, aunt and uncle (leaders with their own inner hierarchy) ran a tight ship, with Sierra's father at the helm. Insolence and disobedience was met with swift and painful correction. They didn't arrange themselves into ranks (aside from her father's traditional title of Alpha) but rather, a pecking order formed as the children grew older and stronger - a pecking order with Sierra decidedly at the bottom. Sierra became a lightning rod for the frustrations of her larger, stronger cousins, frequently finding herself at the sharp end of a snap or last in line to eat.

When she was younger, and just gaining her ability to transform, the pecking order bothered her. However, as she grew, she came to realize that her role in the pack was essential; without her, they would turn on each other. Perhaps, she concluded, it was her role in life to absorb the tension and keep the peace.

However, werewolves are not the same as wolves. They still have human wants and needs, no matter how much they deny it. So it would come as no surprise to an outsider that Sierra's position in her family wore on her nonetheless. On the surface, she was content with the strict life she led, with any important decisions made for her. Once she grew out of the obligatory rebellious phase (one she grew out of very quickly) she never even thought to question the authority of her father, uncle or aunt. She even obeyed her cousins, knowing it was best to get along. She really felt content with that. However, deep down, the suppressed human side of her was wilting. Thoughts began to worm her way into her mind: that she belonged at the bottom of the heap because the others were better than her, that she was too stupid to call the shots, too weak to challenge anyone. That this was her place because she wasn't enough to be any more. She thought these feelings were normal and even accepted them, but something continued to knaw at her.

It was a few years before she realized her unhappiness. She couldn't tell what it was; she thought she was happy where she was, that she belonged here. With her family, away from humans. The humans she'd been taught to hate. But she had never felt the hate burn inside her like it did in her father; to her, humans were little more than a folk tale. So when a mysterious letter somehow, impossibly, found its way to her home, she was intrigued. She hid the letter from her father (for she knew he would burn it) and read the thing over at least a hundred times. For weeks she deliberated, until finally her newfound longing to see the world beyond the trees overcame her fear of leaving. Turning away from her pack felt deeply wrong, and many times on her journey she almost turned back. If not for fear of getting caught, she probably would have.
Other
Sierra has a basic level of reading comprehension, but no formal education.

She met a human once, a lost hiker. It was freaky. Of course, the hiker wasn't a big fan of it either.

I've been known to tweak sheets after I post them, but this is the gist.

[User]
Striding forward, Himeri paid no attention to the looks she was getting. It was only when a robed figure stood out in front of her did she suddenly stop. Her tails whipped behind her as she looked at the figure with a critical eye. He was odd to say the least, she was used to people stopping her on the streets but not many had been robbed, with solid black eyes and a bucket of honey.

When he placed his hands together as a greeting, she couldn't help as she rised an eyebrow at the man before her. Her hand clenched tightly on her luggage's handle as she was about to quickly skirt around him, expecting nothing but annoyance but found herself stopping when he mentioned him being a scholar of the academy.

She internally sighed, she really did need to figure out where the housing was. She was not planning to drag around her bag for the rest of the day.

"If you could just direct me to the dorms that would be great. I can figure out the rest from there."  She would really rather just get to her own room and unpack after such a long flight. She didn't want to rely on this strange man's help for too long.

[Assistant]
Akira Igarashi

---

Mentions: @Aura @RoccanIronclad

---

Akira entered his room - a small grin on his face. This was all so different from his homeland to the East. It was colder, but not unbearably so. The room wasn't anything special either - with a small bed, a cabinet and a desk with a lamp on top as its furniture. It was good enough. He didn't need anything else, to be honest. He could just pick something out of the ground for food - it was enough nutrition for him at least.

The Scholars were really kind to give him a room - but the trip had to be paid by him. At least he had enough money that he accumulated over the years of his life. He did bring a lot of them as he flew here, which was practically all of his possessions aside from a change if clothes or two. Material possessions weren't too important to him since he doesn't have much need for it. Though collecting crap has always been something he does. He's a hoarder, but he eventually parts with it.

Opening a window, he began to stretch and look out. Ah, it was a good view. Perhaps it was a good time to see the sights and explore this town. He looked back at the room and then jumped out - his body shifting into a cat's by the time he landed on another roof. Arching his back and flexing his claws, he let out a soft meow before beginning to move from one roof to another using the flexibility of a feline.

He always felt good whenever he would traverse the surface in his original form. While being human was fun and all, slipping through cracks as a cat was always more fun. Not to mention getting food from good-hearted bystanders was a plus. Akira quickened his pace until he was racing towards the farmer's market through the usage of anything but the road the others frequently used.

When he heard the familiar buzz of the market, he slowed down his pace and peered curiously into one of the shops by bending himself over the roof. The shopkeeper looked a the black cat with a tilt of her head. The two's eyes met and she gave him a smile. "Anything that strikes your fancy?" She questioned.

Akira blinked at her and then shook his head.

"Oh, I see. Come back if you find yourself in any need of my wares." She replied kindly and Akira nodded before disappearing back into the roof.

Right, they were all supernaturals. They could sense him, or at least the magic that he exudes. Oh well, it's still better than having to push and squeeze to get through the crowd down there. He could hear a variety of things - but he finally felt at ease. It was the same anywhere huh? The market was always chaotic with people shouting to present their goods and others fighting to haggle it down to a certain price.

Akira sat down for a while after some time of walking. He began playing with the bell tied to his collar - a certain item he decided to keep with him in both his human form and cat form. He swatted at it - letting the bell ring repeatedly and loudly with the sound being carried off by the wind. It had a… a calming effect on him to be honest. After five times of ringing the bell, he once more started to move.

However, as he padded along, he felt a very familiar aura. He began following where this aura was coming from. His eyes fell onto a girl dressed in rather elegant clothing and carried herself like she was the queen of the world - accompanied by a scholarly looking fellow and he could guess, from his clothing, that he may as well be one of the Scholars. But he was not what he was looking for. The girl was one of those from his homeland - a Kitsune. Feeling giddy that he found someone from around his area, he pounced onto the ground and then brushed against the two's legs before letting out a purr - a sign that he was looking for food. He wasn't sure whether or not they would immediately peg him to be a Bakeneko, or their cousin a Nekomata, but he wanted to see what their reactions would be.


[System]
Age: 24
Gender: Female
Species: Shifter (Griffin)
Appearance:
 Human Form. She has tufted, feline-like ears and a tufted tail with spiky feathers at the base.
Griffin Form. In this form, she is roughly the size of a draft horse.

[User]
Eincrad had always hated the meeting spot for the Hunters society. The run down monolith of a church always appeared as a silhouette against the soft white light of the moon. The cold time stained walls of the church stretched up into a once beautiful mosaic window. The walls gave off their own soft almost comforting light as a sign that it was warded against malice and anger towards the hunters if any mythical beings got inside the church. The runes also made the building look like a fire gutted corpse of an apartment. It was also centered in possibly one of the most annoying spots of the city. Run down apartments were all around the block, mostly housing shifters that didn't make it big int he criminal world. There were also a few small human run stores around the block.

As he passed one of the small grocery stores he noticed several more homeless shifters that wouldn't be missed as well as a few walking through the thinning crowds of poor. A few caught his interest, but one more then the others. A griffon shifter, Her hair parted by a pair of cat-like ears and a rather bird-like tail the griffon shifters were known for. " I wonder how much she would be worth intact?...Hm. First observe, then hunt." Eincrad always had a habit of talking out his plans so one or two passerby's looked at him with worried looks before moving on and deciding it wasn't their business.

A thin smile playing on his lips he took the cigarette from his lips and flicked it to the curb before slipping into one of the alleyways and leaning against the grime and filth covered wall, letting the darkness cover his features as he watched the female griffon shifter meander her way somewhere up the street from him. As she got closer he saw more of her features. " What a shame, a curse not to be born human I suppose. But we all have to make money somehow." A chuckle escaped his lips before his attention was diverted when a homeless shifter, even more foul smelling then the other two, approached him and looked at the tails hanging off his coat before looking at his eyes " H-Hey man...do you have any food? or money?"

Half tempted to just leave him alone and continue to watch the girl, he instead slipped a thin dagger from his coat and spun on the heel of his foot planting the silver lined blade into the mans chest, slipping between the ribcage and puncturing the poor souls lungs. He placed his free hand over his mouth to block any cries for help or pain and began to lower him onto the ground. " You will be dead soon, then I'll take your tail and add it to my paycheck, Okay?" Eincrad smiled down at the shifter who was choking on his own blood before looking out of the alley to see if he garnered any attention.

[Assistant]
The grocery store was within her sight now. Or maybe it was because she had pretty good eyesight in the first place. Her sense of smell was dull compared to others, but her hearing and eyesight were much better than a human's. Her ears picked up almost anything that was within a broad radius, except for rather low pitched sounds or sounds that came from extremely tiny animals such as mice or bugs. Kaethe was happy that she wasn't that good at hearing; all the noises would torment her more than they did already. Thankfully, she had slowly learned how to block specific noises out and only tune in to one or two of them. The headaches that plagued her when she wasn't used to her adept hearing left when she was around her midteens.

Her dark gaze had slowly made its way to the floor as she walked. She grew tired of watching the streets, as seeing the poor shuffle around without aim depressed her greatly. The homeless were mostly made up of shifters, who stalked the alleyways in search of food. Kaethe didn't know why the people disliked them so, but she guessed that she was in no place to argue or question things. She was grateful that she was one of the few known shifters who acquired a human job and worked with normal people. It wasn't common that such a thing happened. Many of her kind would have been kicked out of the place if they came looking for work. Perhaps it would have been better if all of us were killed way back when, just like the stories say.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips, and she closed her eyes as she ran her hand through her hair. Her ears had flattened slightly in distaste, but she still caught some rather... concerning sounds coming from an alleyway. Kaethe's lips curled downwards as she slowly approached the alley, taking delicate and quiet steps as to not let anyone find out that she was getting closer. Once she reached it, she caught sight of something extremely troubling. A man had plunged a knife into the chest of a shifter. Fear razed her heart, taking a step back and staring at the killer with wide eyes. Was that one of the hunters? Or was it just a killer?

Either way, Kaethe didn't take a chance by staying. The young griffin shifter sprinted down the street as soon as the man caught sight of her. She couldn't risk shifting in the middle of the street, especially when there were people around to give her a bad name for shifting. And so she ran, hoping to get away from the man before he could gut her just like he did with that other shifter.

[User]
His cold eyes narrowed when he saw the griffon shifter at the edge of the alley. They then closed when she bolted up the street in an attempt to escape. A slight sigh escaped his lips as he turned his attention back to the now dead shifter on the floor and removed the knife from his chest. He wiped the silver tinged blade on the dirty coat before sheathing it into the folds of his coat. " Why couldn't it be some useless shifter. Not one that could be big pay..." With one last look down at the still warm body, Eincrad spun on his heel and bolted out of the alley. He crashed into an older male and without a second glance started after the griffon shifter.

His steel plated boots tapping loudly against the concrete floor as he pushed past assorted humanoids. His senses barely picking up the plethora of curses and attempted grabs. His mind was only on one prey and he wouldn't rest until he got what he was hunting. With every step he got closer to her, and with every step he began to wonder why she didn't just shift if she was so afraid of what might and will happen to her. Eventually one rather large human male grabbed Eincrad's shoulder forcing him to stop. " Hey buddy, Watch where you are going. You should also apologize. You made me spill my beer." The man's breath reeked of alcohol and his body language painted him as drunken. Eincrad looked up at the big man and let out a sigh as his hands tightened around the cold steel grip of his pistols inside of his coat as he drew them and fired two rounds into the air, causing most of the other people to scream in terror and fall to the ground in hopes that they wouldn't be killed. The big man also dropped to the ground as Eincrad planted the butt of the gun into the other mans throat." I do not have time for this."

With practiced motions Eincrad replaced his guns and resumed his pursuit of his prey. His effort considerably lightened as the number of people on the street lessened after the initial gunshots. "At least people are smart enough to stay out of the way now." The hunter grumbled under his breath as the girl shifter came back into his sights.

[Assistant]
The man was fast. Too fast. He was catching up to her in almost no time, and she dreaded being caught by such a vile fiend. Kaethe didn't even spare a glance behind her; she just knew that he was practically at her heel. But she didn't want to take a risk and shift in the middle of the crowd. If she did, she would probably cause some damage with her wingspan and body mass. Yet, she guessed that she would have to. The man was too fast for her, and if she kept on running, he would catch up in no time. She would exhaust herself before she could get away, and then she would have no escape.

Gunshots roared out behind her, and her ears flattened against her skull. She thought that she had been shot, but no pain streaked her torso. The man was getting way too aggressive for her comfort. Perhaps it was better if she just shifted and flew the coop. Kaethe sighed, her brows knitting together as she thought for a second more. She didn't care what the humans thought about her. She could just say that she was running for her life. They would understand... Right?

The change was instantaneous; there was no tearing of clothes or cracking of bones, but instead a glowing light that enveloped her form. She became quadrupedal and wings sprouted from her back as she ran down the street. Many people were pushed down by her brute force, screaming in shock and fear. The griffin knew that she had to leave the narrow streets, and so, she decided to take flight. She leapt on top of one of the cars parked near the curb of the road and sprang into the air, her wings picking up dirt and grit as they carried her off the ground. She would be fine. The man couldn't reach her from all the way down there.

[User]
The shifter girl was almost within his reach, just a few more seconds and he could grab her by the neck. His breath picked up as he felt her hair between his gloved fingers and just as he grapsed at her head a flash of light enveloped her form and he was pushed back from the force of the change. As other people screamed in terror from being pushed to the ground by the sudden beast among them, Eincrad was merely silent, His mind's eye taking in her human and shifted forms burning it into his memory. " No one gets away from me, little kitten. Now I know your appearance, There is no where you can hide. Soon you will be mine." He mumbled up at the shrinking form of the griffon flying away for her life.

A small grimace escaped his happy facade as he drew out his phone and brought it to his ear. " Blitzkrieg here, cleanup ordinance 4b." He waited for a few seconds as the confirmation order was processed. He hung up the phone after he heard the mechanical voice tell him the media head and police chief were notified of a now suppressed crazy drunk by local police. The next day the newspapers would read a headline of crazy drunk killing homeless, both shifters and humans."

He breathed out as his clothing changed from their normal red into a dark grey of a businessman or rich fellow. He then turned down an alley way to hide from the encroaching sirens and any potential people that may have saw him. After a good thirty minutes he emerged from the filthy alley and made his way back to the origin of where he saw her. As he passed the grocery store he stopped and smiled before pushing gently on the glass door and it swung open with a happy ding sounding his entrance. The old man looked shaken from the commotion outside but luckily kept the door open. " M-may I help you?" The old man shakily said. Eincrad smiled warmly. "Yes, I'm with the NYPD special investigations unit and I was wondering if you know of any griffon shifters in the area. Cat ears and bird like tail." He did imitations of both to lighten the mood a little." The old man's eyes widened slightly at the mention of Kaethe and nodded a little bit. " H-her name, I don't know it but she comes in here for groceries and the likes...I know she works at a restaurant nearby. Nice girl, Might I ask why you are asking about her?"

Eincrad's smile dropped a little bit and he narrowed his eyes at the old man. " She was last seen fleeing the crime scene with another man, who killed several other people. If you see her, call my cell and I'll come pick her up. Don't alert her that you know of what she is involved in. Okay? I thank you for your help, and try to have a good night." He left a solid black card with the number on it and disappeared into the night planning to visit the restaurant in the morning.

[Assistant]
She did not sleep at all during the night. All she dreamt about was the man's frightening complexion and the smell that enveloped him. Kaethe was not often plagued by nightmares, especially ones about people wanting to hunt down and kill her. But the strange man left an impression on her; she felt like she was no longer safe, that there was someone after her. Knowing about killers due to the movies that she watched on the television, she knew that he would not give up easily. What exactly did he want to do with her? If he wanted her dead, he could have just shot her. Maybe he was some sort of freak who just wanted to kidnap her?

A shudder blazed up her spine as the young woman walked to work. Kaethe had to be there at around eleven due to the fact that that was when the people mostly came in for lunch. She could tell that it was going to be a busy day that early Thursday morning... maybe she would be faced with taking the orders of more people than she was used to. A groan escaped her lips as she entered the restaurant, rubbing the back of her head as she found herself face to face with one of her male co-workers.

"You were almost late again," he sighed down at her. "Thankfully the noon rush hasn't come yet."

"Sorry about that." she mumbled as she pulled on her apron. "I'll get to work right away."


[System]
With faded brown green scales, and clad in flexible leather armour and cloth, Kij strikes a formidable figure even standing only at 5'3.
Race: Slith (Lizardperson)

Personality: Kij'hara is, suffice to say, more comfortable in the company of shadows and thieves than the more socially acceptable kinds, finding they often tend to talk less than others. She prefers the quiet people, the people who don't need to say much to convey what they want or need, and she will often lapse into a 'comfortable' silence that can be misconstrued – by the louder types – as uncomfortable, or even expectant. She is unusually lacking in her ability to judge what would be appropriate to say and what would not, resulting in her often saying the wrong thing to the wrong person and getting herself in trouble. However, over time she has learnt to know when to not say anything at all, so as to limit the amount of fights she finds herself in due to her lack of judgement. Staying silent also causes anger, she has found, but it is often less physical. She is distrusting and fearful of Orcs in particular, and views each and every one as lowly mercenary scum.

Background: Kij'hara was born on the far outskirts of a small village in the west of Ruritania. She grew up with five other siblings, but would spend more time exploring the forest than playing with her sisters and brothers, preferring to be alone. Her parents were hunters who supplied meat for the village, and – knowing the local forests – let their children roam freely once they were able to look after themselves. Kij learnt how to climb trees, forage, and handle a knife, all well before the age of ten. On her thirteenth birthday, when most of her other siblings had left home to become apprentices (or were too young to do so yet), she asked to be taught how to hunt, and, in time, continue the family business. Her parents were glad to take her on as an apprentice and over the course of two years she learnt the job; how to shoot a bow, and how to move quickly and quietly, unseen by deer or a boar. At the age of seventeen, secure in her apprenticeship and almost fully trained, she decided to make her first overnight trip on her own, hunting larger prey. She set out at dawn, and returned with the carcass of her fallen prey at dusk of the following day. Welcoming faces did not greet her when she returned home, as expected, but instead she watched from afar as the corpses of her parents were cremated in the fire that ate through their house. Bandits, primarily Orcish, had raided her house, murdered her parents, and burned what they could not steal. She did not wait for them to find her, and turned back into the forest.
For the next few years she lived off the land and, although she departed the forests where she had been born after only a few months, did not go back to civilization unless the winter was particularly harsh and she was driven to buy food or clothing. However she began to grow tired of the constant restlessness of her life and sought to settle down, finally venturing into the city to find somewhere to live. She stayed for three months with her younger sister, but after many subtle hints (and being directly told to her face that she was no longer welcome to stay), she began to look for a job to earn money with. By a chance of fate, she heard the rumours regarding the Old Country, and – deciding that it was a sign that she was doing the wrong thing – set about finding more information...

Abilities: She is deft at using a knife and bow, and when she is unable to catch anything to eat herself can set traps that do the job for her. Although unused to climbing stone or buildings, she is nimble and can use her claws to find small pits and dents to hold on to, making her capable of climbing most structures, natural or unnatural. Her training and skill in hunting also result in her being light on her feet, able to blend in with the shadows and go undetected.

Equipment:
A flatbow and a knife. Though used primarily for hunting, they are also suitable for combat.
A water pouch and a basic medicine kit (which also contains rations of dried meat, etc).
Leather armour, worn and patched but still usable.

[User]
Their small movements made her flinch. Any raise of the hand could release a weapon; any step, another danger. She tilted her head slightly to the side, regarded the two unlikely 'adventurers'. They weren't the type of people she had expected to be interested in this work. Though still wary, she began to relax her almost painful grip on the hilt of the dagger, and partially flattened the scales back down. She knew no display of size or strength would be of use when dealing with the clown, at least. He seemed... too perceptive, too poisonous and dangerous a character. She didn't trust him; she doubted she ever would trust him. As for the other...

"You seem weak, and a coward. Why would you wish to sign up for the job?" Kij turned her head to the first figure with little more than a subtle twitch of her head. The question was not meant to offend, the statement not said in a way that was meant to insult, but was instead the summary of her perceptions - whether they were accurate or not. She waited silently for the reply, oblivious.

Though the clown troubled her, she ignored him for now, and the suggestions to go inside. She would see what the trickster did first before she made her move, reluctant to trap herself inside with potential enemies. They said they were here for a reason, but it was easy to say one thing and for the opposite to be true. No matter what happened, she had to stay alert, she had to be cautious.

[Assistant]
Caractacus takes a step back. Coward? Is that the impression he gave? It certainly wasn't a flattering description, but it was better than outright hostility and lynching. He shook his head. "I am t-taking this job because it's the right th-thing to do. W-we have to stop the lich and his uh, undead. And all the other bad stuff." He nodded. That would be a sufficient explanation, right? Something a hero would say, surely.

Caractacus leans down to pick up his staff. "Besides, I d-don't need to be physically strong wh-when I have my mind and my m-magic. It will p-protect me." He once again tried a smile. He's not very confident looking. "I underst-st-stand I don't make a good first impression, h-heh, but I am truly quite capable."

Caractacus was about to turn to go inside, when a thought struck him. "W-wait. You never answered my question. What are y-you here for?"

[User]
Sam looked down at the trembling man in the robe. It was pitiful, but then, most wizards were. Bookworms were like that, and most wizards were bookworms, by nature of the position. Admirable in a way, though. Sam was curious as to how his performances could have been enhanced had he spent the time to sit down and learn some magic of his own, but there was no time to find that out anymore. He answered the wizard in the Slith's place. "She's here for the job - the same as you and I, I assume. Or she's here to kill you and is trying to determine whether she can do the job. But honestly, she had her chance for that on the approach, so that probably isn't it."

Sam walked, one foot directly in front of the other, down one of the remaining roofing beams that supported the thatching, and dropped down in front of the inn door, which he opened and entered. A sense that he should probably act with some degree of mild courtesy struck him as he closed the door behind him, and he reopened it, sticking his head out for a moment to speak.

"That knight is probably awake by now, or will be shortly. When you're done pissing yourself, wizard, feel free to join me. And you as well, whatever-your-likely-extremely-difficult-to-pronounce-name-is."

The door closed again.

[Assistant]
She watched the jester go with a grimace, or the Slith's equivalent to a grimace. Though doubtful that she would ever be able to trust the man - crucial on such a job - she was hesitant to give up so soon. She doubted that, if this was no good, she would have the strength to return to civilisation. The ways of humans, orcs, even Slith tired her. But no, she would not give up on this so soon, first she must consider all the information.

For a final time before entering the tavern, she looked towards the forest and flexed her claws, felt them sink into the mud and earth. With a deep inhale of the marsh scented air, she made her way over to the doorway. There was a light in the window, weak in comparison to the now rising sun that peered over the tree tops. Two fire drakes flitted in the dark sky above and for a fleeting moment she felt a longing, but she soon turned away and grasped for the door handle.

With the door half ajar, about to step in, she faltered in her stride and turned back to the wizard. "If that is your true reason for wanting to fight the Lich, then that is commendable. But it will be dangerous..." Kij's head tilted to the side, reptilian eyes regarding him piercingly. "So you must be strong enough, or it could be fatal for all of us. You understand?" She didn't wait for a reply, but instead walked through the door and shut it behind her. Tiredness finally seeping into her muscles, she welcomed the chair and slumped down, looking about the tavern as she did so.

[User]
Caractacus scowled as the jester went inside. He was hardly pissing himself. He just had some trouble formulating words was all. Anyone would after so long in isolation, really. He would have to think of a few choice words for the jester next time he saw him. Which would most likely be soon, as they were working the same job.

Caractacus then looked to the slith, she seemed at least a little more at ease, which was decent news. She took a look back at the forest before approaching him. Or the door. Definitely the door. Caractacus watched her approach, but didn't speak. He instead waited for a response to the question he posed. Whether or not the jester answered for her, it would be better to hear it from the slith herself. She was about to head in when she stopped, and spoke.

 "If that is your true reason for wanting to fight the Lich, then that is commendable. But it will be dangerous..." She locked him with a gaze that shot through to his core, and continued. "So you must be strong enough, or it could be fatal for all of us. You understand?"

"I u-under-- The door slammed shut, cutting short his response. Caractacus sighed; he understood what it would take to succeed. It was all planned out, and as long as he followed the plan, nothing, not even the pit of fear sitting low in his stomach, would stop him from achieving his goals. Reassured, Caractacus pulled open the door, and slipped inside. He took a place close to, but not quite on, the undead side.

[Assistant]
Sam Duval was sitting at a table inside, clowning around, so to speak. A group of groggy patrons had gathered around him to observe magic trick after magic trick and to partake in tarot readings. Caractacus entered the room shortly after Kij, and Sam found himself wondering exactly what was going through their minds. A flashy introduction like his own at that hour of morning may have put the two off-balance in a way, which he figured was a particularly good way to get them prepared for stressful situations. He very much doubted that they would make it far without a healthy degree of paranoia, regardless of whether it was directed toward himself or toward the undead.

A patron chose his cards, and Sam pulled them out to reveal the results. The Fool, The Devil, The Emperor, The World, The Magician, and the Wheel of Fortune. Sam himself never really cared much for this 'divination' method - it was roughly as accurate for determining one's path in life as sticking one's hand down a badger hole. Or, perhaps, even less so, as sticking one's hand down a badger hole nearly guarantees that one's hand will be bitten, which at least can be predicted, provided one isn't an absolute moron - which most of the tavern's patrons unfortunately were.

He eyed the other side of the tavern, where a couple undead were idly milling about, posing no real threat to anybody and serving the purpose of marking which side of the tavern one really shouldn't start a brawl on. They seemed about as useful as his future companions would be. Speaking of whom, why hadn't the Knight awoken yet...?


[System]
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.

[User]
It was amazing the difference proper equipment made. The previous visit to the aqueduct had been a panicked flight in awkward native garb. Now, clad in her armor and helmet and with her gear sealed in a waterproof carry bag, Junebug was keyed up and ready for action. Quetzalli crouched close beside her, the native woman's eyes wide and enthusiastic as always. Junebug was not convinced that it was wise to bring the girl but a translator might be essential in the hours ahead. Carefully she scanned, the green and blue pastel landscape of the forest on infrared. It was surprising how easy it was to get used to being able to see in the dark and how subtlety disconcerting it was to lose that ability.

"All set," Junebug declared, "Taya you sill reading me?"

"Yes… I mean copy you loud and clear Junebug," the girl responded. Zalli jumped a little, unused to the the radio earpiece they had given her. It was a risk but given the odds against them she wanted everyone on the net. Taya was sitting in the gun jeep on a ridge, the highest point between the Highlander and the Village, about three clicks to the east. The girl had understandable concerns about the wildlife but Junebug had assured her that the odds of the predators attacking a tonne of unfamiliar smelling metals and plastics was low. Even if they tried it the motion detectors would give the girl plenty of time to cut loose with the flechette gun Junebug had given her. Taya would act as a final piece of backup if things got completely desperate. If they had to call the jeep in it meant things had gone so badly wrong they were not likely to be survivable.

"Well," Junebug began, checking her mission clock on her helmets HUD, "Lets get too it."

They moved through the aqueduct without incident, the passage much easier on the downward journey and with proper gear for lighting. The trio carefully emerged from the well to find the building empty. There was a smell of death in the air from outside and Junebug carefully peered out onto the field at the base of the ziggurat. Torches blazed every few feet and perhaps twenty five bodies were laid out on beds of some sort of local timber. Their eyes had been covered with flowers and a symbol had been carved into each of their bare chests.

"Bury for war men," Zalli commented in her broken galactic, surprising Junebug. It wasn't the strangest funerary rite she had seen. There were places they ritually ate the dead afterall. Most of the activity seemed to be on the west end of the village where a crowd was assembled around a massive bonfire, chanting and swaying. It was hard to make out on thermal but Junebug thought she could see a figure in front of the fire haurranging the crowd.

"Zalli stay here and keep out of sight, Neil you take the east side," she told him unzipping her watertight bag and handing him a satchel of charges.

It took about fifteen minutes to place enough explosives to get the job done. In shape as she was Junebug was sweating when she rendevouz with Neil and Zalli at the well. Carefully she unfolded her plasma rifle and checked the sights.

"Alright Neil," ill circle to the north and cover you.

"Good luck you two."

[Assistant]
Neil had gone around to the east as instructed, somewhat giddy and excited that he got to handle explosives. He hadn't had the opportunity to blow something up in ages, and judging by how he believed the crowd would react it was a foregone conclusion that he would have to pull the trigger. A part of him felt somewhat sad that he was literally about to decimate what he guessed was a structure of cultural and religious significance, but he saw no other way and primed all the charges, making it back in time.

Neil saluted Junebug. "You too Captain." He said, and then pulled Quetzalli along with him once he had the trigger in hand. The native woman guided him to the opposite ziggurat. A smaller one, but still tall enough to be seen and heard with plenty of torches around. Thankfully Neil was used to moving without being seen, and Zalli could move nearly as stealthily. He'd need to ask later if she had been anything else but a servant girl. She didn't seem combat capable, but she knew how to move through the woods and knew the city well enough.

Down below, Neil saw Wetumpkah standing next to a larger Shaman, crying to the heavens and chanting. He held a stick in his hand that jittered with hollow noise as he shook it. Neil glanced to Zalli, who translated. "He say that you and the other star people are false gods." She said, waiting a moment as he continued to speak before she translated further. "Demons in starman form sent to trick us and turn the people against one another."

"Kind of ironic we're neither." He mouthed low enough to not be heard. He didn't exactly know what Quetzalli believed as of yet and now was not the time to have her question her world view. He cleared his throat, and leaped up onto one of the taller carved seats. "Hey!" he screamed, his voice cutting through the small river valley like a knife. He repeated it again, louder this time. At first only a few looked his way, as well as the lazy guards at post. But his second cry grabbed everyone's attention, and he could see Wetumpkah frantically pointing at him and calling for his head.

"He said-"

"Yeah I understood that much" He whispered, before standing tall and holding up his arms, trying to appear powerful. "Your behavior has angered us!" Neil cried out in what he hoped was coherent Zil. Zalli stood by him, though a step down and behind so as not to draw too much attention to herself. His words brought cries of protest and awe, so he continued. "In punishment, you are to follow our words, or see your village destroyed!"

A few of the villagers shrank back, though Wetumpkah laughed acidly. The aged shaman replied. "You have no power here. Your head will be my drink cup! Quetzalli shall be mine once more."

"Seize him!" Neil called. "Seize him or be damned!" The word for damned was judged, but he believed it worked in this situation. When the villagers looked uneasy, Neil called for obedience again. Seconds passed, and the pilot picked up a torch and tossed it down the stairs, chanting with what Zil he knew 'judged!' And he pressed the button behind his back.

A sudden earth shattering crack shook the valley in a rumble as fire and force beyond any the villagers had ever seen ripped into the lower base section of the ziggurat. The ancient structure swayed, and then its top plummeted inward as the structure fell into itself, toppling as stone cracked and roared across the plaza. Women screamed and men cried for mercy as it fell, and even a few guards were killed from the debris. Even Quetzalli gasped and gripped Neil's pant leg for comfort.

[User]
Even at three hundred meters the explosion was impressive. A great cloud of dust flew skyward as the charges, placed according to Loney celtic advice, crumbled the ancient monolith. Junebug wondered what her mother would think of destroying an ancient and possibly unique structure. A tight grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. Whatever Ria Cassani Cykali thought of the destruction of architecture, she would doubtlessly be more upset at the though of the wholesale slaughter of the villagers, which was Junebug's next option.

"Well you don't see that everyday," Taya said over the net. Junebug frowned for a moment, there was no way that Taya could see the destruction from... ah, a red telltale on her HUD indicated that the girl was importing the view from Junebug's scope to the monitor in the Jeep. Sayeeda hadn't told her how to do that but evidently the former aristocrat was putting her time to good use.

"Keep the net clear Taya," Junebug said in gentle reproach. Reaching up she touched a toggle on her helmet changing the display from thermal to millimeter radar. Both views could cut through the pall of dust but the radar return, properly interpreted but her helmet AI, gave better fine detail than the blurs of pastel heat did. Peering through the scope she waited for the right moment.

___________________________________

The crowd of natives screamed in fear, others tore at their hair and still others fled. Several took uneasy steps towards Wetumpkah their faces an agony of indecision. Those closet to the pair of Shaman's were clearly harder and more loyal than their cohorts, the raised their weapons in bar of their fellows and Wetumpkah began to recover his confidence.

"They desecrate our shrines, destroy our homes and defile our women!" he roared, raising his arms to harangue the crowd once more.

"They are false Starmen! Cursed by Rakeeri!" The Holy man screamed spittle flying from his mouth so great was his rage.

"Kill them and avenge the fallen they stole from us!" The Shaman raised his stone axe and pointed it at Neil. Quetzalli stepped before the pilot her own arms raised.

"He is the chosen of Rakeeri!" The girl shouted, her voice surprisingly clear and carrying in the commotion. She seized Neil's hand and lifted it high for all to see, showing the strange tattoo to the crowd. The distant mountain top light with sudden scarlet fire as Junebug, listening to the conversation through the commo net, detonated the bundled flares they had placed there. The top of the mountain flickered with pale red flame.

"Rakeeri!" the girl shouted, dark eyes pale and triumphant! A second flicker of fire rolled from the mountain top and then a third as she raised both arms to the heavens. One of the villagers sank to her knees in the dirt, eyes fearful. Then a second and a third.

"No! NO! NO!" screetched Wetumpkah in desperation but it did no good. Within a few seconds only the two Shaman remained standing. The volcano exploded in light as Junebug detonated the remaining store of explosives simultaneously. Crying out the larger shaman threw himself into the dirt.

"You will not take her from me!" Wetumpkah screamed and before anyone could react hurled his axe at Neil. Without thinking Quetzalli through herself in font of Neil, the heavy stone axe sinking into her body with a sickening crunch and a scream of pain. Wetumpkah's chest exploded in a cyan flash as Junebug's plasma bolt caught him at the base of the breastbone. The Shaman was pitched several feet backwards by the blast that filled the night with a mist of blood and cooking meat.

[Assistant]
Junebug would hear Taya gasp in terror from the other side of the mic even as she felt the recoil of the shot that killed Wetumpkah. A hush fell over the crowd as they bowed, and though a few of them gazed upwards, many were too horror stricken from the explosions and the 'godly' power to dare move their heads. Wetumpkah hit the ground with a hard, wet slap. Dead.

Time seemed to slow for Neil as he saw the jerk of Quetzalli's body and her scream as she fell, the axe stuck in her abdomen. He suddenly felt a pain he'd not felt for many years coursing through his body. His head burning, his chest following suit accompanied with a tightened feeling. His muscles felt too weak to move, and his triumphant face was stricken with a numb horror as he watched. It was only on instinct that he moved, leaping down to catch her before she hit any hard stone.

The pilot with the ever grinning face who'd laugh before leaping into danger had disappeared. His mind went far back to Fortus during that faithful evening when the love of his life had been killed. Flashes of her pretty face and her workman's cap appeared before his very eyes. Her boyish attitude coupled with her girlish charm. A wrench in her hand and a strength to her character, before she would stick her tongue out his way in a teasing manner. He remembered their first kiss, and when he had fallen in love. He wanted to relive those.

Not a death. Not again.

He'd been too busy to entertain and understand how fond he was of Quetzalli, but even if that were not the case she had stuck by him and believed in him. What's more, if it wasn't for the color of her skin and hair, she almost looked like...her.

"No," he breathed, letting her lie on his lip and brushing some of her hair out of her face. "No, no no, come on. Don't you fuckin..." His breathing was as shallow as his hopes, and a chill ran up his spine as he looked down at where the axe was. The haft and axe blade were heavy, and he wished he could have removed it but it wasn't safe to.

"Hi-lo." She said softly, shuddering from the pain and reaching up to touch Neil's cheek, her eyes half closed. He wanted to talk to her and comfort her, but he was too busy checking the axe wound. A small glimmer of hope began to appear after he looked. The blade was embedded in her stomach, but not in a vital way. Thank God she had been wearing some of Sayeeda's armored clothes. If she didn't lose too much blood he could save her. "Sssshhh don't talk alright?" he said, cupping her cheek. "You insane woman."

"You saved my life," she said slowly, finding the words. "I saved yours."

He opened his comm to Junebug. "She's bleeding out. If we don't get her back to the ship soon..." Neil began, but he couldn't quite finish the rest in front of her. Instead he turned to the only Shaman still alive. "You! New Shaman!" He yelled, before he realized he was speaking Imperial and then repeated it in Zil, causing the Shaman to look up in awe and reverence. "You have blessing if you save her life!"


[System]
Universe: Overlord

Appearance:

Personality: Evil, the Overlord is evil incarnate. However, the terms of evil have always been subjective, but you can say that his goals aren't the most noblest of things. He likes to control things, be it from his vast hordes of minions to personally dominating every single civilian in an entire town. Even though he may quite aggressively take over towns and cities, his rule is fairly decent, he doesn't kill anyone that obeys him and gives people rewards when it is due. Though, he is still quite evil, majority of the people are mind controlled that would be willing to die for him if given enough shocking to the brain, and most of the rest are sent to slavery. However, he does have one exploitable weakness, he does like himself some ladies around him, mainly the ones with large chests. He wouldn't risk everything to gain them, but he would be quite protective if one ever joins his side, and maybe something else in the bedroom if you know what I mean.

Powers/Skills: Supernaturally tough, he can take volleys of arrows and dozens of swipes from the finest metal and still fight to the last breath. He can also take several direct catapult and ballista shots while merely taking a step back from the lethal damage. The Overlord is, as well, inhumanly strong. He can strike with any weapon with devastating power, able to almost crush anything is this path with sheer strength. Also mastered in most medieval weaponry, he can easily create combos to lock opponents or knock them down for even more devastating attacks while the opponent is down. The Overlord is also versed inside the world of magic, able to control fire with his whim as spews of flame gushes through his hand while several pillars of flame surround him. He can also control the weak minded, confuse, slow, and even turn others on their own teammates! He may also shield himself with his magic, only himself and even keeping it up for a couple of minutes is quite draining on the might Overlord. However, the Overlord still has one power left, and possibly the strongest.

The Overlord is able to control creatures known as Minions. They are small, goblin-esque creature that are completely loyal to the Overlord and will only take order from the Overlord with no question. There are four types of minions, brown, red, green, and blue. Brown is the epitome of brawn over brain, they are the grunts of the horde and the most important type of minion. They have the brain size smaller than a walnut, and also have a strange obsession of putting things on their heads. Reds are the arsonist of the four, they love to burn things from far away and then dance on the fiery corpses of their enemies. Greens, they are the sneaky and stinky types of the minions, able to deal massive amounts of damage from behind, they are also able to turn transparent if they stand still for long enough. The blues, they are the weakest of the four, they are the mystical types of the minions. They are able to revive recently dead minions and are able to phase through objects at will, if they ever get into any type of fight, they usually die in one hit. However, with the Overlord being taken from his universe, will the minions come with him, or will he be without an army to command?

Brief Bio: The son of the last Overlord, he takes over the business of being the Overlord and conquers the lands that were actually more corrupted than himself. The Empire, a once good society turned evil, the Overlord must take over the land to install his own evilness within the world! He does this exact thing, he takes on the entire Empire, the last of the eleven empire, and the dangerous lands that the Overlord had to wade through, conquering man and nature. At the end, the Overlord controlled the entire map, everyone enslaved to his rule while keeping his three mistresses entertained. However, during his glourious reign of evil, he was suddenly plucked out of existence to become the play thing of something, and the Overlord isn't going to take that at all.

Equipment:
* The Infernal Armour - Resilient, forged from the life force of over one-hundred minions and pure crystallized good and evil. This armor allows the Overlord to take a beating, and barely even flinch.
* The Infernal Commander - A pressuring force, this allows the Overlord to intimadate the weak by merely looking at them while he is able to control more minions.
* The Apocalypoter - A giant two-handed mace, the third strike spewing fire out of the weapon while being pounded into oblivion.

[User]
Jake Lawton - Yellow Flag

Jake is a bit annoyed from Autoscorer's response. "Anyways, I don't know if I'm convincing or not but I change my mind that I do not need help from this untrusted strange world since I'm independent myself. Well, if you excuse me, I need to be alone a bit and try to think to how to escape from this hellhole." Jake said as he turn his position towards the bartender. He wasn't happy from Autoscorer's response but seriously; he is thinking about how to escape this damn world as he looks down, trying to concentrate from what he was thinking right now.

[Assistant]
Garie - Yellow Flag

Gari would have shrugged as she watched Jake go, if she could muster the lack of caring necessary for it. As it stood, she merely shifted to the side as he left. "What's his problem," she muttered to herself indifferently. She wanted to escape too, that was for sure, but for that she needed magical, alchemical assistance. Some space cowboy wasn't going to be able to help with that, especially if he couldn't muster a single motivation for them working together beyond 'because we're in the same situation.'

That said, she turned to listen to the explanation as it was given. Well then, someone who wanted to kill a nigh omnipotent being? That was a goal that Garie could get along with, and one that she knew Carol could approve of. It was secondary to getting out of here, of course, but she wouldn't be above lending a hand when the time came.

And shortly thereafter there was an appearance from the mysterious figure in person. Garie frowned, unimpressed by the sight that she was greeted to, the humanoid figure with a legitimate question mark on his face. Hmph, Carol was more impressive. Especially hen she was going all out.

Well, for now there was nothing to be done about it. She would play along, and wait for her opportunity to act, and take advantage of whatever situation arose. So, she rested in the bar a few moments longer before heading out into the city. She needed shelter, and the memories she had gotten would provide that. And if the relevant people complained, well, she could deal with that. All in all, this would be simple.

[User]
Donkey Kong

---

As the static and void burst into view outside of the train cars, Donkey Kong lumbered out and peered at the rift-screen. He listened intently to the omnipotent Viewer's explanation, growing angrier with each word, his shoulders heaving at a higher frequency for every second he listened to his adversary's babbling.

DK didn't like his diction. "Survive?" That implied that people were going to die. Donkey Kong nearly threw up his bananas at the thought.

He pounded his fist into his palm. Ooh, that ?-fellow was in for a walloping; DK would pound him like an item block as soon as he got the chance. He would ram his meaty gorilla fist right up the Viewer's--

Dizzy

---

"Wow! It's like we're on TV!" Dizzy cheered, spinning around on her hind wheels. "Brilliant! I have lots of talents!"

Dizzy leaned back and picked up three smooth stones, juggling them between her wheels like balls. Her eyes followed their path, swirling around and around and around, before she deftly tossed each one into her drum. THUNK! THUNK! THUNK! "I'm always up for games!" Dizzy rambled. "Oh, I do hope there is checkers!"

Dizzy continued to rattle off fun board games, seemingly oblivious to the apparent danger that the characters were in. "Maybe there'll be card games as well!" Dizzy quipped.

[Assistant]
The Overlord - Roanpur

The Overlord glanced at Marchesa, he had forgotten about the test that he had setten up to determine her worth. It seemed that she had survived the flaming inferno without a third-degree burn on her, it seemed that she at least had the skill of dodging lethal objects, but he needed more than that to allow another living being to follow in his presence. However, in the situation of being trapped without a minion in sight, he could make some adjustments to what could eagerly die for him. However, there seemed to be something bigger than determining what minions could follow him, and that would be the overwhelming presence of this stranger. The Overlord stretched his shoulders, allowing his mace to scrape against his armor, trying to deter the stranger from fighting as fighting this being without his minions would be mere suicide.

The glowing eyes followed the strange man, watching closely for any sudden movements which would allow the Overlord to use this insignificant lady as a meat shield. However, his pathing seemed to note that a fight wouldn't insue, but he was walking over to one of the corpses on the floor. What was he going to do with them? Eating them was an option, seeing Melvin eat all of that meat during battle was an abhorrent strategy for fighting, though it may have made him stronger, it just made it easier to pop him like the zit. The stranger sooned moved something rather than his legs, the Overlord shifted only slightly, the armor shifting across each other, the mace scraping against his shoulder, and his slitted eyes giving a more dangerous look. Ready to slam his mace into DIO's face and make his escape into the city, once again, the pathing of his hands and arms seemed to go another direction rather than the most obvious. DIO seemed to damage himself, lightly plucking at his skins causing blood to slip out of his body. Did this man fight with his blood? The Overlord soon noticed that the blood was actually going into the body of one of the corpses. The mighty steel man pondered, what was going to happen.

His question was answered as the corpse seemed to greedily drink the corpse, the pale body's wounds started to disappear, the flesh mending itself in a magical manner. Strange, the Overlord thought that only the blood pools in the old world could do that, did this man somehow infuse his blood with that of his own? Though, the blood pool couldn't revive the dead, only mend the most fatal of wounds. What was this creature?

Deep in thought, trying to discover what kind of creature the Overlord was dealing with, he didn't notice the twitch of life that was coming back to the body. Though, he did notice when DIO helped up the monster to its feet which made the Overlord glare at DIO, succubus? Is this some new type of demon? Only they could revive the dead in such a manner, and not even in the same purity of the corpse. They only revived as zombies, lifeless, rotten, and simple minded creatures. What kind of magic did this creature have left in him? The Overlord, not betraying his posture still looked at the stranger with genuine interest. This could possibly be the new Overlord if handled properly, the magic that he possess, the sheer intimidating presence, and that evil aura. The Overlord wondered, if he was his replacement in the future, how long shall he last? The Overlord shooed that thought away, he is the Overlord, he shall overcome any obstacle in his reign, and it seemed that this man was the biggest obstacle yet, the Overlord needed to be warey of his being.
The Overlord was tasked with two things, allow this being to join his rule, or dismiss him to be the biggest enemy he has ever faced. It was a challenging task, if was in full power, he could possibly take down this foe, but without his mob, he was severally weakened. So, with careful consideration, the Overlord looked at the fellow and nodded to this plan. The Overlord right after, could sense something sinister force, even on the verge of overwhelming the cladded iron man. However, he shall stay strong, as he is the Overlord, he shall never falter in his reign.

Krieg - Mahoru

Krieg had managed to stand on his own two feet, climbing a vertical wall with only a shoddy axe and strength was something that would tire almost any out. He greedily sucked in the clean air, trying to get his breath to stabilize as his eyes scanned his opponent. He looked strong, or at least produced the aura of being strong as he stood silently with his lamppost. Krieg smiled with an almost sinister aura, fighting was in his blood, there was most likely combined with other people's blood, but their blood also had the fighting spirit within them. His grip of his buzz-axe tightened as the strong man seemed to show off his ability with the bizarre weapon. "Do not engage, I repeat do not engage. I swear, if you start swinging that thing witho-"

The voice in Krieg's head was interrupted, it was interrupted with a speech that got Krieg even more eager to battle. "Yeeeeeeeeeeeeesss, AGAIN!" Krieg screamed out, his body rearing to get into another scrap to the death. The voice on the other hand could see where this was going, and he couldn't stop Krieg with all of this taunting. It paused for a few seconds, trying to think of an idea to not let Krieg kill this man, and a brilliant idea entered Krieg's mind.

"Don't kill them, this is duel. This is just for fun, for fun…"

Krieg didn't react to his statement, did he listen? The voice in his head started to worry, he just needed to be on his toes to stop this fight from getting too violent to cause either death or harm on the onlookers. The Psycho on the other hand drooled in anticipation, a tiny countdown inside of his head counting down.

Five… Four… Three… Two… One…

"Bring it ON"

Krieg's eyes shined with blood fury, and he laughed inside of a frightening manner as he activated his Buzz Axe Rampage.

"This is gonna get ugly…"

"YESYESYESYES!!!"

Krieg, with much anticipation, ran with amazing speed towards Jax. As his feet hit the ground, the rhythmic beat starting to get into the psycho, he laughed once again before chucking his buzz-axe straight at his opponent. The rusted weapon aiming true to the man, and though one may think he had just lost his most precious weapon. Another buzz-axe digistructed right into his hands. "BLOOOOODDDD!" With every step, he threw another buzz-axe towards Jax, and another, and another, and another until it looked like a hurricane of blades were after his opponent. Krieg didn't stop the momentum, it was just getting faster and faster as he started to get closer and closer. Krieg was just waiting for the right moment, his legs bending just in the perfect angle… And… JUMP!

The Psycho flew high into the air, his buzz-axe aiming for the shoulder, a non-lethal spot if you didn't get too deep, but that was all that the voice could do to help this man. Krieg continued to scream as he descended before Jax, his strategy in any fight was to fight like he was going to die at any moment, and most of the time everyone on Pandora fought in a similar way.


[System]
Age: 20

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Appearance:

Personality: Gideon, outside of combat, is a bubbly, friendly and chivalrous man with a good understanding of what respect actually is. He is humorous and highly protective of his friends and allies, getting in the way of a fight and defending an ally or someone in need a lot, which some may view as a kind of foolish chivalry. He is also incredibly tenacious... or stubborn. He enjoys challenging himself, pushing his body further and further, or defeating the next big opponent. That's what makes Gideon... Gideon.

Profession: Jedi

Skills:

Form V Specialist- Form V, or Shien is the fifth jedi combat form that focuses on using defence as an offence. A prime example is deflecting a blaster shot back at enemies.

Force expert- The strong spiritual matter, known as the force, have always piqued the interest of Gideon, and he uses it very well for a simple Jedi.

Abilities:

Force Powers- As a Jedi, Gideon can use the force, and has a natural aptitude for it. Gideon has found the technique of concentrating the force on his left forearm into a kind of shield, resembling that of a buckler shield, which gives him a small edge in combat.

Equipment: Blue lightsaber with the hilt being entirely silver. Although the hilt is basic and not as eccentric as others, Gideon made his personal by inscribing the alternate Jedi Code on the hilt, the code recited by younglings in their initiate trials-

Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force.

Brief Backstory: As a child, Gideon always got in physical fights, without him being the initial aggravator. The way Gideon got involved was by stepping in front and fighting the bully or person who went to go fight Gideon's friend. However, this got him landed on his arse more times than he'd like to remember. However, on one Life Day, Gideon discovered his small yet still existent connection to the force, confirming he was force-sensitive. He was eventually discovered by a Rodian Jedi, who subsequently inspired Gideon to become a Jedi. Time flew by for him until he actually begun to wield his own lightsaber. He lived and breathed duelling. Gideon would spend night and day learning, analysing and practicing the first five forms, while also reading about form VI and VII, however he would soon discover that his talent was in the force. Gideon remembers sparring practice with Saku Ria who gained his upmost respect for her skill in the blade as well. This however only pushed him to become better and better, so he could one day beat the elder Jedi in duelling skill. Having not made much improvement, he decided to dabble in the force a bit more, and found his sensitivity to the force had since grown exponentially since he last paid attention, it was since then he swapped the majority of his time from duelling to the force. It has always been a motivation for him to become a knight and train an apprentice, someone he himself could train and mentor.

---

[User]
It was a sight to behold, an angry Orryxian bashing her fists against the Ardent Liberty's pilot console. "I hate Hutt Space...", Kara cursed. They were drifting in front of the Huttese Golan III defence platform for four hours now and they were not let down to the Spaceport. After letting out a stream of expletives, Kara turned the comm-panel back on.

"Commander, your urgency to land seemed suspicious to some Hutts, therefore we are going to scan your ship once more before you can proceed the the spaceport. We are very sorry for this inconvenience, but the Republic is not that welcome in Hutt Space."
Kara sighed.
"I understand. However, I will have to file a report to the Senate about this. They will not be happy about this delay." This was her final gamble, something she learned in one of her more... diplomatic missions. And it usually paid off.

"The Senate? Oh... I am very sorry, we thought this was a warship and not an ambassador of the Senate. And we're sorry for not contacting you earlier." It always pays off to play the diplomat, Kara thought smiling a little.
"You're assigned to landing bay 27, don't stray from your assigned course.", came another person from the orbital station.

"Finally...", Kara muttered under her breath as she put the course into the computer, then she activated the comm once more.
"Fighter pilots, we've received landing clearance, please proceed to dock with the Ardent Liberty."

One thing Kara never understood about pilots was their decision to stay in their fighter cockpit, even when travelling through hyperspace. It was baffling to her.

"well, then... Let's get to it." With these words Kara pushed any distracting thoughts into the back of her head, clearing her throat and activating the intercomm.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we've just gotten landing clearance. I'm very sorry for the delay. It seems the Hutts are not very fond of Republic ships appearing on their doorstep. Probably because they have something to hide. We're now posing as a diplomatic corps from the Senate, I don't know how this will complicate the mission, but they would not have let us dock otherwise. For questions, come to the bridge or wait until we have landed."

Deciding it would be safer to do so, Kara deactivated the autopilot and the guidance system she had fed with the coordinates of the docking port displayed a row of green beacons on her HUD. Slowly and smoothly she eased the ship into the atmosphere of Nar Shaddaa.

[Assistant]
Bounty Hunter Krat Gyton

A black and red X-Wing flew towards Nar Shaddaa slowly. In it was a Mandalorian, wanting to get some credits. It was hard for him to get past the spaceborder control, as they thought he was with the Republic because he flew an X-Wing, but after he managed to convince them that he was a bounty hunter trying to find some 'smugglers who didn't pay their employers what they owed', they let him through. It was not a total lie though, he was trying to find some law breakers. However, he was more interested in the people at the secret meeting. He bet the Republic would pay a lot for some of them, and as he liked the way the Republic was handling it's government, he would help them. For now.

He landed on the appointed landing spot, opened his cockpit and got out. "Denying, you stay at the fighter. I will be back soon." The R2 astrodroid started to complain with its bleeping. Krat sighed. "Look, Denying, I know you want to come with me and kick some butt, but this is a stealth mission with much climbing involved. I don't think you are able to do that though." One long, annoyed bleep came from the droid. "You know what, I'll make a deal with you: You stay at the fighter and I give you permission to aim at anyone who comes too close to it. I even allow you to shoot anyone who touches it. Do we have a deal?" The droid now sounded as happy as it could be, and started turning the turret at the bottom of the X-Wing around towards the people walking past the docks. "That's a good droid!" Krat said, then walked away from the fighter. It was time for him to get ready for the job.

[User]
Delro the Hutt was remarkably thin for his species. That is to say, he was incredibly large, but was still able to fit into a luxury speeder with little modification. Which was a good thing, considering that Lucar didn't like the idea of being smashed up against Hutt girth and a wall. He took the cigar offered by the red servant droid standing beside the Hutt, lighting it up.

"Now, you must understand, Delro. This cabinet is made of genuine rainbow wood- native to Alderaan. The value of such a fine cabinet has skyrocketed over the past twenty years..."

The Hutt garbled on. {"I'm aware, Lucar. But I need this cabinet NOW."}

"Yes, Delro, and that's what concerns me. That's an awfully large transaction to be making out of the blue."

{"My wife's mother is coming from Nal Hutta to stay with us for a few days. You KNOW what she's like."}

"Oh, Dekra. That explains it. Well, as this IS a very unusual item- one of the last surviving pieces of rainbow wood furniture, you understand- I'm afraid I can't accept less than, say... Nine thousand credits? Plus shipping, of course."

The Hutt shook his head. {"Lucar, I know as well as you do that cabinet's overpriced. Six thousand."}

"Six thousand? Delro, I'm not selling you a prom dress here. This is made of rainbow wood, for goodness sake. But for you, I can do, say... eighty-two fifty?"

{"Yeah, the rainbow wood's why I want the damn thing. Seven Thousand."}

"Seventy-five hundred, but I want it up front."

The speeder came to a stop as the Hutt glared at Lucar. Seeing the warehouse out the window, Lucar began to assume this was a shakedown, reachign down into his pockets for his weapons... shortly before Delro laughed and nodded.

{"You always drove a hard bargain, Lucar. Seventy-five hundred it is."} The Hutt made his way to the ramp. {"You'll get your money as soon as this meeting's over. For now, just stay put."}

Leaving Lucar in the speeder, parked in an alley next to a warehouse, Delro slithered in.

[Assistant]
At the back of the Ardent Liberty's hanger sat a standard Republic A-Wing Starfighter, its systems powered but engines offline, a young Jedi Knight fast asleep in its open cockpit. She had one foot hanging out and her other pressing against the floor, her back hunched in poor posture and her head resting at an angle; she would have looked uncomfortable were it not for how deep in slumber she appeared to be, even drooling on the cold metal. A red safety light blinking above and a glowing HUD illuminated her furrowed expression as it began to intensify, her mind getting lost in dreams.

Whether it was something in the force or just the depressing cold of space, a darkness began to cloud her dream. Suddenly her head jerked as she woke wide eyed, at once sitting up straight as she quickly focused, adjusting to her surroundings as if prepared for an attack. Her mind calmed and she used her sleeve to wipe the drool from her face. Just then the intercom started to broadcast,

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we've just gotten landing clearance..." Good timing, Elyka thought, attempting to shrug off her unusual awakening.

She could feel the soreness in her neck sleeping like she did, rubbing with her right hand as she stretched her other arm. She reasoned she'd rest in a fighter's seat so that she would be at the helm for any kind of emergency, but that was no longer necessary since they were about to land. Pulling herself out of the cockpit and standing tall on the wing of the small fighter, Elyka stretched her arms and yawned before hopping off.

As she stared off into the view of Nar Shaddaa's approaching atmosphere from behind the wide forcefield for a few moments, she felt Akyra's presence at the hangar's entrance. Elyka had first met her when they were Padawans, and they had completed a couple missions together as Knights, so she was probably more familiar with her than anyone else on the ship. "Ever been to Nar Shaddaa?" she asked loudly from a distance as she headed towards her fellow Jedi, sounding excited about their mission.

"Let's regroup with the others before we land," motioning for Akyra to come along, walking down the hallway towards the briefing room, where Elyka assumed the others might be waiting.