[System]
Not quite finished yet.
Race: Turian

Gender/Age: Male / 52

Appearance:

Class/Specialization: Turian Agent

Weapons: M-96 Mattock Semi-Auto Rifle, M-3 Predator Heavy Pistol, M-9 Tempest SMG

Powers: Overload, Concussive Blast, Neural Shock

Affiliation/Occupation: Spectre

Background: Raised in a family with deep military roots, Tarrin knew from childhood what kind of road life would bring him down. He enlisted when he reached legal age and never looked back.

Personality: The toughest son-of-a-bitch this side of Palaven, who exudes a 'take-no-bullshit, give-no-quarter' attitude of ruthlessness and savagery. Exactly why he was chosen for this mission.

Other:

Name: Commander Richard Fisher

Race: Human

Gender/Age: Male / 40

Appearance:

Class/Specialization: Soldier

Weapons: M-8 Avenger Assault Rifle, M-6 Carnifex Heavy Pistol

Powers: Adrenaline Burst, Armor-Piercing Ammo, Fortification, Inferno Grenade

Affiliation/Occupation: Alliance Deep Cover Operative. Head of ARC.

Background: Born on Earth, but raised on Demeter, Richard was lucky enough to witness humanity's rapid growth as a spacefaring race first-hand as the son of one of humankind's chief researchers into the newly-discovered mass effect technology. He was overjoyed to learn that his family would be among the first colonists to make a life for themselves off of Earth. To this day, looking out at the vastness of space fills him with a sense of wonder. At 18, he joined Alliance military and began a long, illustrious career as a soldier, blazing through the front lines. 12 years ago, Richard founded the Private Mercenary Company ARC alongside a turian friend of his named Jarek Arterian. That career path has led him here, suddenly enlisted in the battle against Icarus.

Personality: Among his men, he was always known as tough but fair. Underneath his rough exterior is a kindhearted man who prefers to seek diplomatic solutions rather than going in guns blazing.

Other:

Name: Sergeant Major Dan Hawke

Race: Human

Gender/Age: Male / 31

Appearance:

Class/Specialization: Vanguard

Weapons: M-23 Katana Shotgun, M-4 Shuriken SMG

Powers: Charge, Throw, Lift, Barrier, Singularity

Affiliation/Occupation: Troop Garrison for ARC

Background: Earthborn

Personality:

Other:

[User]
Reezan

The briefing of of the mission was short and sour, the way he's used to things; back in the Blue Suns you got your mission and you liked it, not like you had the choice. When Tarrin mentioned his confiscated weapons Reezan perked up and was anxious to get his old friend back.

Right before he left he heard the other Turian, Arlus, complaining about the mission. Reezan couldn't deal with cowardice, sure he took a long distance approach to things but when he was sent out, he got results. "This is our mission Arlus, there is no point wondering if anyone else can do our job for us." Reezan stated coldly and walked down to the storage bay himself.

Reezan found his gun quickly, after all it was easy to spot, a M-98 Widow, modified with a silencer, with a Blue Suns paint job. He didn't like the colors but it was the rifle issued to him so it became his own. Reezan took it to the weapon tables near the crew storage lockers and began to perform upkeep.

The Widow has seen better days, some of the parts were jammed and the barrel was filthy. While cleaning he spotted an old memory on the side of his rifle, a row of tally marks that he made with his omni-blade representing his past kills. It marked 44 as of now and he only felt he'll need to start on the other side soon enough, I think I'm getting tired of all the killing, but it's what I have to do. he somberly let out a sigh of exhaustion.

[Assistant]
Tarrin strutted off towards the cockpit, seemingly oblivious to Arlus' question. Fisher decided to jump in.
"The Council isn't welcome in the Terminus Systems just based on principle. An official military task force would get no help from the locals. Besides that fact, an invasion of military forces might be seen as an act of war by certain groups out here. Even if it didn't, the very rumors of military presence wold send Icarus burrowing deeper into whatever holes they may be hiding in"

"Pirate crew like this is exactly what's expected out on the frontier" Hawke added, taking the cue from Fisher to take over. "We can't roll around promoting ourselves as mercs with ARC or a made-up outfit, cuz Icarus will know someone's payin big to have them wiped out. Again, that'd scare 'em into hiding until they can cause more damage, but I think the point is no one's gonna blink twice at a rogue Spectre hoppin' around in a stolen Alliance ship with a small crew, just enough off the radar to not arouse suspicion while gathering intel, I mean maybe the Spectre thing would draw some eyes, but then we just stab 'em and go on our way"

He chuckled at his own bad joke before trailing off. He coughed awkwardly before launching into his best 'bad comedian' impression. "Soooooo, any other questions? comments? Interesting backstory? Come on guys, help me out, I'm dyin' up here"

[User]
Sena'Raan vas Alarei

Sena wasn't used to these kinds of debriefings ... Octavus largely left her to tinker with things in the lab, she was a support role, not a front-lines type and, well, he was rather protective of her. Still, she couldn't help but think that their debriefing was very very brief indeed to say the least. She wondered what exactly they expected her to do ... She wasn't military trained, very little experience ... she could make a bomb in a pinch and work wonders with tech and could pilot a ship as easy as breathing but shooting holes in bad-guys? ... Not particularly her forte btu she was a fast learner.

Arlus had a point ... this sounded like a suicide run. To her surprise, Reezan seemed netiher surprised nor non-plussed about it... He was rather scathing toward his teammate, she hoped it wouldn't cause problems later on in the mission considering they were now a haphazard team of sorts.
"He's not usually quite so scathing ... I'm sorry Arlus" she apologised, hoping there wouldn't be bad vibes between the two team-members.

"This crew is made up of criminals ... bandits and pirates and smugglers ... Surely your life was at risk in your previous profession ... try think of this as just another job, perhaps that would help"

When Hawke asked if there were any questions, she had only one.
"I will need some supplies for my work, theres bound to be a shady dealer lurking around the Terminus system that will have the parts I need, will you be able to make a stop? It will only be brief."

[Assistant]
Hawke nodded in acknowledgement of Sena.
"We'll likely make a few stops at Omega across the course of this mission. In fact, probably a good idea to top off the supplies once we pick up the rest of the crew and they have time to take inventory. I'll bring it up to Commander Fisher, maybe he can convince Karvik to head that way before we hit that first lead. In fact, we should be hitting the Shadow Sea any minute now. I'll head up to the cockpit"

As Dan walked up through the ship he felt a slight lurch as the ship came out of FTL travel. Peering out of a port, he saw the distant shape of ARC's flagship Rocinante, they'd be initiating ship-to-ship docking any minute now.
"Commander... sir" the Sergeant Major nodded towards his superiors as he entered the cockpit "The crew was wondering if we'd be stopping off at Omega before the mission began. Supply run"
Fisher leaned to his right and swiped his hand over a holographic readout "Omega's a quicker jump to make than the Ismar Frontier, couldn't hurt to stock up first"
Karvik sat in silence, his jaw mandibles waving slightly as he contemplated.
"Fine. Have the crew provide a list of everything they need. This needs to be quick"

Over the next 20 minutes the ship docked with the Rocinante and the process began of carrying over Warrick and the rest of the ancillary crew. Their numbers suddenly increased from the fireteam and the 5 pseudo-engineers to over 35, including a dedicated pilot, cook, medic, and armorer, just to name a few. Fisher came back onboard after debriefing the new leader and remaining members of ARC, and soon they were on their way. Hawke, seated to the left of the pilot, stared out at the old frigate as he heard the groans of the space bridge uncoupling from the Omaha's docking port. The two ships broke off and he watched as the Rocinante faded into the distance, right up until the moment they hit the mass relay for the jump to Omega. He wondered if he'd ever see the old girl again, and from that thought he allowed his mind to wander, dreaming of an all-too-distant past.

Some time later, he was woken by the sound of Tarrin's voice echoing throughout the ship.
"Attention crew, this is Karvik. We'll be docking at Omega shortly. If you need to acquire anything from the station, head towards the docking port now or locate a member of the crew who can acquire it for you. As will be the norm, any requisitions from a member of ARC, send word to Sgt. Major Hawke. This is a short trip. In fact, from the moment we dock, you have one hour. Anyone not on board when that time is up gets left behind. Karvik out"

[User]
Arlus was sitting on the floor next to the ships main weapons and in the processes of setting up some of his equipment when he heard Karvik, glancing up at the comm speaker for a moment he listened before muttering to himself as he got up, Arlus was sorta keeping to himself after the debrief not really wanting to get involved with anyone from the crew, His years in the Turian military as a Calab where rough on him, the isolation, segregation, and most of all the way they where treated, they where seen simply as tools some of the time.

But with all that he gained unbreakable bonds between other Calabs. Walking over to a crate he had moved into the room he opened it and quickly began to get his gear together, surprisingly Arlus had never been to Omega but he had that feeling that trouble might show itself. Once he had all of his weapons and ammo in check, he reached into the box and removed his venom gauntlets, slowly running his talons over them he slipped them on and secured then before attached the cylinders to the side, inside the clear cylinders was a bright green almost glowing liquid, various numbing agents and poisons mixed together to make a deadly but effective cocktail.

"Stage four compressor, long range amplifier, some cords, class two tripod, class five minitripod, maybe some camo netting if they have it, some ties, and a little bit more ammo" He said looking back at his equipment before placing his helmet on and leaving the room, the large Turian quietly made his way to the docking port. Upon getting there he leaned against the nearby wall and crossed his arms "So anyone else never been here before, to Omega or am I alone on this?" he asked out loud to seemingly anyone around as he waited.

[Assistant]
"No worries bud, everyone has their first sometime" Hawke laughed at the bad joke and clapped the turian on the shoulder "Ah, trust me, by the time we're all done you'll be sick of lookin' at the place. Not as bad as everyone says if you know your way around He flashed the datapad at Arlus.

"I gotta get all this stuff for the crew anyway, so I can point ya in the right direction. In exchange, I'm gonna need a hand bringin some of this stuff back, sound like a deal? Come on"

About an hour later, the crew was back on board, Hawke was hard at work in the storage bay, checking all the crates and making sure he hadn't missed anything.
"That container there are the supplies requested by the quarian.... Sena, not Reezan. Have someone bring it up to her quarters. he told Carrick, the chief of the dock boys "Those 8 are weapons, should be 2 full of rifles, assault and semi-auto, 2 for assorted pistols and SMGs, 1 for shotguns, 1 of sniper rifles, and the last one should have our launchers. The 4 smaller crates on the end are thermal clips, explosive charges, and grenades. See that they're all unpacked and placed in the armory. Anything we haven't gone through are personal requisitions from the crewmen, they can claim them at their own convenience, list is right here" He handed over the datapad and walked off towards the elevator. As it started to ascend he heard the beep of the P.A. system going live.

"We're arriving at the planet Xerkanos. Strike Team, gather up your gear and meet at the shuttle"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The shuttle rocked and rattled as it descended through the atmosphere. The team all sat around as Tarrin examined a datapad. He tossed it down on the floor and a hologram projected up.
"Ok, initial scans show a spike in electron waves coming from this region. We're dropping in on this ridge overlooking what used to be an Alliance Exploratory Station. We'll survey it from above, then move down and breach. Clear out anyone left then explore for further leads"
They landed and set out, scanning the building below for outward threats.
"Seems clear out here, no cameras in sight except for the one right over the door" Fisher noted "Old Alliance buildings like this were designed with an unfortunate flaw. I can see it from here. There's a control board for internal systems on the right side of it, around the corner from the door. It's meant as a link-in point for exterior security checkpoints or transport stations, but this one has no such structure, but it's there, hidden beneath an off-color silver wall panel. Easy to hack"
Tarrin took charge once more "Ok Fisher, take Sena and Reezan down there, watch their back while they hack in. Arlus and Varok, you'll breach from the rear of the facility. Hang back out of sight until the hack is complete and the door opens itself. Hawke, you're with me. We're goin in the front"


[System]
Female
Appearance:

Even as she grew older and her body more frail, the youthful spirit and the sense of adventure within her never died out. The presence of a new body only made things more perfect. Narkissa has the appearance of a youthful, slender adult. She stands an average height of 5' 5", and while fit, weighs a paltry 111 lbs. Although her hair and eyes have taken a strange albino coloration, her professional sartorial aesthetic remains.

Goals:

What more can Narkissa wish for than to rediscover progress and reclaim the world? To build an empire under a reborn flag, so large in which the sun would never set on its lands? What more can it be than providence?

Would it really be fine if it ended like this?

As the darkness surrounded her, accompanied by the creaks and groans of her vessel of demise, a lifetime of past thoughts flashed through her eyes.

Even now, Narkissa was fascinated with the past. As long as she could remember, her mind had always fluttered to the tales of the past, the mystery, the majesty, and the grandeur of countries long past.

But of them all, there was only one country that had them all… and it wasn't too long ago that her country had stood at the peak of the world. There was nothing more that could fascinate her than the story of the early modern era, of the rise of the British Empire, and its maritime hegemony. She couldn't love the history any than she could love her own country.

Well, in other words, she was a nationalist.

But unlike others, Narkissa really was more interested in learning about things than shitposting on the internet. She became a scholar of history of early modern Britain. What was it like in the early modern era? How did people live? What technology did people use, how did it work? What food did people eat? What was life at sea like, how did people survive? Those were the questions that she asked, answered, and taught.

By the time she was beginning to reach her middle ages, she had become a marine archeologist, traveling to the ends of the world —and the depths of the sea— to explore the secrets that the oceans had swallowed long ago.

It really would be the past that would cause her demise, too.

Narkissa recalled the closing years of the American Revolution, when the British Empire had won a great battle against the French off Dominica. The battle won, the fleet sailed home with their prizes, only to meet their untimely demise in a hurricane in the Atlantic. It was the topic of her research.

Her life's work had finally culminated in finding the wrecks at the bottom of the sea, and for the first time in almost 250 years, human eyes finally beheld the hulls of the wooden battleships.

It really was just a damn shame that the pressure hull of the research submersible began to leak.

Abilities:

Physical Conditioning: Peak human
Your body is naturally tough, durable, and strong. The pinnacle of human physical strength, endurance, and agility. Keep training, and surely you can surpass even stronger beings.

Soul Flare
The ability to turn ones soul into a weapon itself. Needed for most basic magical feats. Channel the mana present in the air through your body to achieve great feats. Allows one to interact with supernatural things, and perceive things others may not.

Affection of the Sea:
The goddess has given you some of her own favor. The sea itself seems to bend to your will. Should you travel by it, you'll always find favorable winds and currents, the sea always seemingly directing you to where your destination is need to go whilst also hindering whatever may wish to do you harm. Theoretically, it can also extend to anything or anyone you 'own' as well, such as ships and sailors, but they will need some sort of relief or symbol to do so. Perhaps should you gain more favor with the goddess, you may even be able to command the seas themselves on some level...

Her clothes on her back… or maybe not?

[User]
She had the basics down? How odd. It felt like she knew next to nothing about magic. Really, it felt more like an applied science to her. She want to protest but perhaps that was good. Rullphana said it took time and research to come up with new things. As for a goal... Did she have anything planned for? No, not really. She had just wanted to survive. "What do I want to learn? I suppose everything might be too much to ask." Augusta mentioned, thinking on it a few seconds more. "Perhaps I want to be unrivaled in power. A lofty goal, though probably common amongst magic users.

The woman stopped and wondered. "If you wanted something more immediate perhaps I want to figure out how to shoot a lightning bolt."

[Assistant]
"Eh? Wait, isn't it still—?!"

Wholly taken off guard by how casually Lazirha dragged her out of Mie's tent, Misaki stumbled a bit as she attempted to not trip over herself. Given what she had done to help the young woman escape from her would-be captors, the foxgirl was not particularly looking forward to possibly facing off against them again...

And without the element of surprise, it wasn't likely she would get off scot-free like she had the last time. Her hands still stung even now, even if the pain was fading a bit faster than she would have expected.

Luckily enough, it seemed that the worst of the trouble had passed them by. Whether that was related to the commotion outside the tent during her negotiations or something else entirely was something to consider, of course, but when she arrived back at Lazirha's home...

Well, the sight she found was not all too surprising. If anything, the fact that there was even anything left slightly untouched was a miracle unto itself.

"...Well, I was—" she began to say, only to be promptly knocked to the ground by the fawn she had left behind. Though slightly rattled by the impact as she was thrown to the ground, Misaki managed to gather herself and pet the animal on the head as it rested on top of her... Despite the pain from the impact, at least.

"It's good to see you're all right," she said back, smiling as she slowly guided the fawn off of her and shakily rose to her feet. One would have usually expected 40 kilos of animal rushing at a person to not leave them unscathed, but it seemed that she had come out with little more than a pain that was quickly fading.

Food for thought.

As she brushed herself off, though, the sight of the nearby obelisk grabbing her attention. As much as she would have liked to stay out of harm's way, though, something about the situation seemed to suspicious for her to simply ignore. Lazirha seemed to want to check whatever it was out too, given the look on her face, but...

"...I don't think it'd be any safer here left in the dark about whatever insanity's going on, given how close we are," Misaki sighed, scratching the back of her head before looking between the deer, Lazirha, and the array of flashing lights and whatnot off in the distance. "So I suppose that the recovery here can wait a bit longer. Is there anywhere we could get a better look? Ideally, safety would be included in that, but..."

It wasn't as if she could offer much in the grander scheme of things—at least, not as she was now—which meant that if the others were involved and nearby, being dead weight (or just dead) in the middle of combat or something like that would not end well for anyone involved.

[User]
The Journey Begins

~ Forest Near Liven ~

Interacted with: @Rune_Alchemist

The jets of flame Nick spat out were more pitiful than he thought. He was no pro at this, he admitted, but that was just bad. The undead hounds didn't even caught fire, just singed from what Nick witnessed. He'd bet they didn't even feel it. Oh, he was so dead.

Or so he thought, the sudden bursts of fire from Nick seemed to have put the dogs on edge. They had stopped their attack, now wary of their seemingly-firebreathing prey. The belligerents kept their eyes on each other for a short while. Nick still held his torch and flask firmly, his mouth and lips burning from the slight backdraft, expecting the fight to resume any moment. But to Nick's surprise, it never did. The undead canines turned their heads towards the village and went off, deciding that Nick wasn't worth it.

As soon as they were out of his sight, Nick dropped to his knees. He quickly jabbed his torch standing in the frost and put away his oil flask and began scooping up snow from the ground and stuffing them into his mouth before spitting them out. He soon scooped smaller amounts and let them melt in his mouth before spitting out, trying his best to wash off the residue oil. He repeated this crude procedure several times until his mouth could no longer stand the cold and he was forced to stop. He would need to wash properly later.

Inspecting the ache on his ankle, Nick found that the hound's bite had torn through his denim pants but fortunately, the wound was not at all deep. Still, the pain stung and he had to sit on the snow to cool off, maybe literally, from the fight. Placing his face unto his hands, Nick suppressed sobs and stopped tears from forming. How long was he going to stay here? How long would he last? Will he even make it back home? Did he ever stand a chance? His heart was still beating fast from the encounter, exacerbating his despair. Oh, how Nick wanted to scream and how angry he was for knowing it would probably invite more danger.

Wiping his watery eyes from the self-pity, Nick forced himself to stand up. He still had a job to do, a job he didn't even know how to accomplish. Taking his torch, Nick saw the trail the hooded figure left that lead into another part of the forest. It was good a lead as any so Nick decided to follow.

[Assistant]
Narkissa gave Mie a thumbs-up before rummaging through the tools. A cheap cloth bag did well for keeping the basic ingredients all together, but together with that and all the various knickknacks she'd procured over the past few days, she needed a proper bag for the rest of her stuff as well, so Narkissa picked out a leather knapsack looking bag where she promptly shoved her books and the godly blueprint thing (that she still wasn't entirely too confident on.)

A nice pestle and mortar was a given, together with a few miscellaneous tools, she also needed a flat press of some sort for the corning process—she found a tool used for another purpose as a stop-gap for the time being, but she'd probably have to fashion her own later on if she wanted to be more efficient about it. It was probably better if she fashioned some of her own specialized tools, anyway… She didn't want others deducing her own formulation and methods from the ingredients and tools she picked out.

 Thinking about it further, she'd nearly forgotten a minor ingredient, and ended up asking the Oni for a bottle of distilled alcohol –not a required ingredient, but one that would make creating corned powder far easier than just using random impure water.

Finally equipped with the basics for recreating boom boom powder, she thanked the Oni and Mie if she was around once more, before glancing curiously at the odd display over at the Obelisk. Well, fixing up the powder could probably wait just a bit… she still needed to get an idea of what was going on, after all.


[System]
Age: 23
Place of Birth: Massachusetts
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Language: English
---

Physical Description

Height: 5'6''

Stature: Years of either kneeling or sitting haven't done much for Eli's body. He's stick-thin and has just bones, some meat, and skin.

Hair: He's got dark-chocolate brown hair. He usually keeps it at a short cut but Eli has been letting his curls grow out a bit.

Eyes: Cloudy-blue.

Skin tone: Pale as a ghost. As a child, Eli preferred to stay inside and pray. He's got a smooth and unblemished complexion. Who knows what the sun will do to him.

Features: Eli has an oval face with defined cheekbones, a slightly pointed chin, and a sturdy jaw line. His lips are full and with a cupids bow. His eyes are in a rounded almond shape that are emphasized by his double eye-lids. His slightly bushy eyebrows are forever scrunched up.
Attire: Black clerical shirt, black pants, black robe, black everything. When not preaching, he'll wear some dark brown overalls and white dress shirt.
---

Personality: Eli is your typical staunch believer who wants to spread the word to everyone. He's rather calm and subdued in his actions, preferring to fade in the background. While he may seem meek, do not cross over Eli's no-no line. While it may seem like he's patient and thick-headed, he really isn't. In fact, he can be quite a stubborn bull when he truly believes in something. Other than that, he's polite and always keeps his promises. He chooses to live with a smile on his face and without fear clouding his judgement.

Skills/Talents: If there's one thing special about Eli, it's his way with words. He's got a convincing voice and paired along with his passion, he can easily persuade a crowd.

Dislikes: Eli can't say that he dislikes anything. He's pretty tolerant and straight as an arrow. However, he does have trouble dealing with sarcastic grumps.

Ambitions: To help people accept Christ. Eli wishes to take the most run-down soul and teach him the word so that he or she can go to heaven.

Philosophy of Life: Live life to the fullest. Though, you can say that Eli doesn't really follow his philosophy. The only thing he lives for is the Bible.

Religions/Beliefs: God has always been a part of his life. After all, he was saved by a priest, who took him in and raised him to become a priest. He's forever grateful to his adopted father and wishes to follow his footsteps.

Children: Virgin.

Sexuality and History: Virgin. He's very thick-headed when it comes with relationships. You have to be super direct in order for Eli to even realize someone is interested in him. He's easily embarrassed when someone talks to him about sexual matters and prefers not to involve himself in such…indecencies if you will.

Addictions: It's not really an addiction, but more of a bad-habit Eli can't rid himself of. Whenever he gets stressed, he will kneel right there and then and just pray for hours.

Family: Eli does not know his parents. He lived off the streets for a while until he turned five when he was adopted by a priest. Back then, Eli was feral. He would bite, scratch, and hiss at the priest; he couldn't even speak English. His bad behavior would continue well into his adolescence until he came across an old-worn bible. Soon enough, the elderly priest was reading the tale of Jonah or Ruth to him at bed time. Little Eli longed to be able to read the Bible himself, so he dedicated all of his time to studying and praying. With patience and tender love, Eli grew up to become a respectable priest like his adopted father. After being ordained to priesthood, the diocese relocated him to Kansas.

[User]
He knelt there for what seemed like hours, waiting for the tell-tale sounds of the trap-door opening and strangled choking. For the first time in a long time, Eli felt the tendrils of fear wrapping around him. Surely the Judge would ignore his plea. After all, he was a priest who had just arrived in this town a mere two days ago. He held no political power, only the knowledge of God. However, the orders of execution never came. Eli's eyes fluttered open only to shut close, the suns rays striking him. Bringing his right hand to block the sunlight, his squinted eyes managed to witness the scene unfolding before him.

Finn Casey was being released from his bindings. Whether it was some stroke of luck or God's way of approving Eli's choice; the priest was filled with relief. His words had somehow swayed the public's opinion to his favor. Eli could make out a smile on the Finn's face as he was being held up by two officers by his side. Eli could feel his own lips twitching up into a smile before a feral cry reached his ears. He felt himself freeze in surprise, if not fear. It was a howl akin to the ones he had so frequently heard in his memories. Swallowing, the priest staggered to his feet, the Holy Book still clutched at his chest.

Eli glanced at the two men, nodding. "Of course," he simply responded. There was no doubt that the Judge and Tucker would be watching his every move like vultures patiently waiting for a wounded animal to die. As the officers led Finn Casey down the steps and to Eli's humble home, the crowds slowly began to dissipate. It was likely that the news of a young priest who had intervened in a murderer's execution would spread like wildfire.

Muttering a quick prayer of blessing to the two men, Eli made his way down the steps and towards his home, no, Eli's and Casey's new home.

---

Within a few moments, Eli arrived at the rather old weatherboard house. The paint was peeling, the porch foundations needed to be repaired, and the floor creaked and moaned under the four men's weight. However, it was spacious enough for a four-person family to comfortably live in. Eli didn't know who the previous occupants were, but he was certainly grateful for the opportunity to live here instead of a sod house. There was a living room that could also serve as a dining room, a kitchen, and two closets in the first floor. Upstairs, there were two bedrooms and a bathroom.

The officers dumped Finn Casey on the floor before taking their leave, both saying their farewells to the priest before taking their leave. Eli said his thanks before turning his attention to the tied convict. He blinked a few times before exhaling, bending down to untie Finn. Occasionally, he would rub the sun-burnt skin around his neck area. Less than thirty minutes out in the sun and he was already suffering. Eli frowned as he attempted to weave his way through the many knots before striking up a conversation with Finn.

"Well, there are going to be rules here Finn. First, you are by no means allowed to break another law or the Judge'll have my hide. No drinking, no cursing, and no women. I'll teach you the Lord's words and you'll have daily confessions as well. If you're illiterate, I can help you learn and..." Eli licked his lips in thought before continuing on. "Well, you'll have to do something with your appearance. Cut your hair, or at last comb it, and take a bath." He finally undid the ropes, releasing Finn. "Any questions?"

[Assistant]
Finn was in a state of utter disbelief that the Judge had allowed him his life. Part of him scorned the round fool that today wasn't his final one. The other part of him rejoiced that he'd live to see many, many more. Being pawned off to a simple priest in exchange for a weak promise of his salvation wasn't a sound investment, but if it meant a warm bed and a hot meal until he could round up means to jump town then he'd take it over a dirty cell any day. As soon as he was released into Eli's home, his head perked up like a new dog, scanning the area almost as if he'd chosen the space and was congratulating himself for landing a house of decent value. Worn and broken in, but a nice one just the same and better than he could ever afford on his own. Oddly, if you sliced the top floor off and was left with the bottom it could almost pass for his old family home. Deciding that he liked what he saw, an indolent smile crept on his face.

But the smile didn't last as long as he would've liked. With the Judge's rules, his face couldn't help but fall into what could only be described as a child's pout. His light brows furrowed close together, his lips pressed close as if he were deep in thought. No drinking? No cursing? No women... Essentially, a life of abstinence, prayer and good deeds was expected of him. Well, Finn never was good with rules. As soon as the clasps on his wrists were free and once again he was a free man he stood tall over Eli, inspecting the smaller man like a falcon looming over a desert mouse before the first swoop. He certainly didn't have much on him, nor was he the tallest, but to make someone like Finn seem more nourished and filled out he didn't think was possible. A life of servitude to the Lord and a flighty disposition must have been the cause if even a beanpole like Finn towered him. The criminal found it funny but withheld his comments. Instead he stood impossibly close that he wouldn't be surprised if Eli could hear his every breath.

"Daily confessions?" Finn exhaled a deep laugh through his nose. His eyes bore down on the priest. "You'll have me all run outta sin keepin' me cooped up here you won't have nothing to send up to God. No women, no drinkin'... I thought you were a good man, Father. That's just straight torture."

Then, Finn took the liberty to explore his new home freely. He ambled slowly around Eli, rounding him as the number of rules floated around his mind. No doubt Tucker would have his men scouting around Eli's home for a scrap of evidence that he'd violated this new probation of sorts. If he left tonight or even this week, no gun and no means of travel he would surely die at the feet of the law. He'd wait; it would just take him a bit of time. For now he might as well have a bit of fun. And what better way than with a holy man of the Lord?

"That judge," he went on with a flicker of his eyes downward and curled-up lips, "-'s a cock-suckin' son'va bitch. He can shovel shit for a livin' if he wasn't already doin' it now."


[System]
Anything with an asterisk is an edit for the arena.

Timore Scarborough

Theme
Alias: N/A.
Nicknames: Timmy.
Age: 21. *26
Species: Human.
Relations: None.

Appearance: Timore prefers to war scarves along with neutral colored T-shirts and jeans. Metentis can be found wrapped around his left arm, his ring on his right ring finger, and his necklace around his neck. He has an earring in each ear and they are typically small triangles or small diamonds with no crystal or the like to speak of.

General Activity – Musician: As a Musician at the Academy he spends his time in class and socializing here and there. He also loves to just find a place to play.

Personality: Oh, you'll see.

Biography: All you need to know is he's grown up with a passion for music, and magic, all his life. Beyond that it's only notable that he has no family to speak of, though no one seems to know that, and that he is a bit of a troublemaker. He joined the Academy only recently and thus has yet to really make any friends.
Equipment:

Fulcrum: A necklace purchased from at a shady establishment for enchanted, or anamolous, items, Fulcrum has the passive ability to absorb nearby emotions and essence. With minimal skill and individual can draw forth these things from it and use them for their own purposes. Fulcrum can be used in a more active fashion to actually sap emotions from people consciously, but this process is incredibly gradual and only works through pulling at the essence of those nearby. The object cannot work on anyone thirty meters from its location. Prolonged exposure its effects can cause mood swings, depression, apathy, and emotional exhaustion.

*Timore can release the emotions/essence within Fulcrum and manipulate them with Metentis. Fulcrum currently has no essence within it, but plenty of emotions.

Metentis(Harvester): The instrument given to him by the Academy a few years prior to his moving to his apartment near its location. This instrument is always kept spiralled around his wrist and it has several essential methods of use. Timore can use it as a whip, allowing it to become a dangerous implement that he can channel his essence through so as to instigate a severing effect on any essence it comes into contact with. When it is kept around his wrist, Timore can channel his essence through it with incredible precision to instigate different notes, which can influence the emotions of others. In this state it is capable of invoking only two major emotions in those it effects, and Timore will be incapable of deciding who its notes are directed at. The two emotions are fear and love.

The third use is the traditional method that the intrument can be utilized, which is by unwinding it from his wrist, straightening it out, and allowing it to temporarily become rigid. In this state it acts much like a mixture of a flute and a saxophone, though the music it produces is much more akin to a flute. In this state Metentis is in what is nearly its optimal form and thus it can manipulate the emotions of the listener(s) to varying extents depending on the skill of the user. Metentis' final form is instigated by feeding it emotional energy, and raw essence, allowing it to become considerably larger in both thickness and length, and act as an actual snake does. In this state the instrument's mentality becomes quite apparent and it can, to some measure, act on its lonesome.

In terms of Metentis' personality, the instrument is a ravenous deceiver, considering people to be as a winery is to wine, worth something only for the emotions they produce. Its creators marveled at how coherent the serpent's mind and thoughts appear to be, but in actuality there is quite a bit of chaos that goes on in the instrument's twisted little mind. However, many of the personalities held within it have agreed to cooperate with the one who refers to itself as Metentis, as this particular being –who was once a demon-- seeks almost solely to feed them as a whole. Yet, secretly, Metentis wishes to escape the instrument's form and regain his own body, something that has so far been a slow and grueling process. In terms of communication, Metentis is capable of speaking with Timore telepathically and verbally through the mouth of the flute. Metentis has had several players over the years, but all of them have, thus far, succumbed to various ailments, be they mental or otherwise. However, the instrument thinks that it's current wielder, Timore, holds much promise....

*Metentis can attempt to influence emotions, but it takes time (preps) for the effect to actually work properly. He must either charge essence in the flute to create an effect that will immediately become useful, or he has to continuously play the flute.

Praecisio: The concealed form of his not so inconspicuous weapon, this ring is in actuality an enchanted weapon, which has shifted its shape to its master's will. It is actually a rather dangerous curved sword, which feeds on the blood of those it cuts. While the blade is plainly demonic in nature, it has no aura to speak of unless it has recently been fed. When it has been fed the blade will cause others near it to feel uneasy. Praecisio sucks out blood or essence when it cuts something. On living things it leaves behind a burning sensation on the wound, which fades over the space of a minute.

Physical and Mental Capabilities

Athletic Physique: While he does in fact enjoy playing his instrument, Timore makes it a point to stay in shape and thus goes to the Gym tri-weekly as well as practicing mixed martial arts at a nearby establishment. Still, he is no Olympic athlete, but he does possess a considerable amount of stamina and an above average level of physical strength and speed.

Genius Flutist: Having studied, and played, the flute since he was young, Timore has a passion, and a natural talent, for it. Thus he has gained quite the level of skill throughout his years, allowing him to now play somewhere between a skilled musician and a professional.

Sweet Talker: In short, Timore is an exceptionally charming young man and is very good at getting people to think that what he wants them to do, was their own idea (and furthermore that it is a good idea). He is well acquainted with the opposite sex and how they think and happens to be a very intense hopeless romantic.

Physiological Knowledge: Having grown up with a doctor for a father, Timore was often asked questions and taught about human biology. Thus, over the years, he has gained a considerable amount of knowledge in said field both through his father, and through his own research in more recent years.

Magical Skills:

Essence Flow and Differentiation: While no mage, Timore does have some magical talent, allowing him to subtly manipulate the flow of essence both inside his own body, and in his direct vicinity. While he is not capable of too many magical feats, he can amplify his own physical attributes through manipulating the flow of his internal essence, as well as being able to cause some basic phenomena in his direct vicinity. Specifically Timore is able to create pulses or generate a push or pull utilizing his own essence. Timore, through his unique synesthesia, and ability to manipulate the flow of essence, is capable of differentiating between different types of essence. This allows him to recognize the use of different forms of magic within a half a mile or so, but only if it is fairly strong. The closer it is to him, the easier it is for him to sense. Additionally, he can typically tell someone's race as well. He could learn how to read people's emotions through this ability with time.

Magical Synesthesia: Born with this, Timore has lived his life learning to cope with this strange trait. To specify what exactly it does, Timore's synesthesia allows him to not only see essence in colors around him and other people, but it also allows him to hear emotions in people's voices. Timore's sight is much more potent than his hearing, likely due to his body's attempt to cope with the bustling environment of society. Still, because of this, Timore prefers to stay away from places with massive crowds.

*Essence Manipulation: Timore can weave essence into simple constructs such as barriers, blades or other fairly simple implements. He can charge essence with emotions imparting different effects, which he can then weaponize. All weaponized/emotion charged essence requires at least 1 prep to infuse before it can be utilized. The more preps the stronger the effect.

>1 prep is a very weak effect.
>Combining emotions requires 1 uninterrupted prep--can dodge, but not block or attack during this prep.

Rage: Containing a great amount of malcontent and destructive influence, any essence infused with this emotion can explode or burn those touching it, including the user. Can be explosive.

Joy: Charges anything touched with incredible energy. This energy can, if too greatly infused, cause an explosion. However, things touched by the explosion are strengthened rather than harmed, becoming more durable.

Love: Slightly reinforces things touched by the infused essence. However, has the primary effect of repairing or healing things in contact with itself.

Despair: Degrading effect, causes things in contact with the infused essence to gradually deteriorate be they physical or energetic.

[User]
Timore Scarborough
Initialization

---

Reaching his destination he placed a hand on a tree trunk four trees away from the one which his target was in. He smiled and then turned around, leaning against the tree. He'd felt something pass over him, though he wasn't quite sure what it had been. Now in position he let essence trail around the ring before he flipped it into the air, making it clearly visible, before it suddenly fired forwards and directly at the girl. His essence traveled up through the tree behind him and his tongue continued to click as he hummed. The energy continued to gather upon the mechanical object. Perhaps his maneuver would get her to do something.

If not he'd be rather disappointed really.

[Assistant]
The ring began to accumulate a disturbance. Katheryn's real body remained still, although she wished to tense for a dodge, but she knew her heightened senses would prepare her. Suddenly, if one swift movement, the ring, heavy with disturbance and gaining more, find quickly at her. She knew she was too weak to deflect it, and that disturbance would make it even more powerful she was sure. All the while, the man continued humming. It was beginning to bug her, as if he was laughing in her face. Shaking the thoughts away, Katheryn realized that this set the fact in stone that he had a partner. He himself did not have enough disturbance to view her himself, but his green-eyed coil did. The tree behind him gained a disturbance. He was about halfway inbetween the center and the edge of her range.

Gathering all her speed, after that lightning-fast chain of thought due to the Wiring, Katheryn broke the connection and rolled her head, which the ring was aimed at, to one side as if stretching. The ring shot past, barely missing her. She rolled her head around a bit more, as if mocking his 'act' with another. Well, that and the short maneuver was all she had time for. She hoped that the coil was watching, and relaying it to the man all the while. Katheryn smirked.


[System]
'Yahoo~! Everyone's idol just arrived!"'

Utaha is actually a pretty tall girl in comparison to most girls, and even guys, standing at 1.90 meters. Her build is actually quite curvy. Her orange hair reaches her back and is almost always kept straight, but she knows how to arrange it in lots of ways, for when she becomes a real idol.
Gender: Female

Age: 17

Arcana: Sun

Personality: Utaha is extremely lively, way too lively for the good of anyone in her vicinity. It is hard to see her stay put, and she likes jumping around as much as possible, even with her big body. She likes singing and dancing a lot too. Without regards of personal space whatsoever or the slightest hint of what the hell is the so-called delicacy she keeps hearing so much about, Utaha can be quite intrusive upon personal matters, even though she always has the best interests of people in mind, even though she can be quite the nuisance too. She always gives it her all to achieve her dream of becoming an idol, and always gives her 200% at everything, and also expecting that others will follow her example. She also does not accept any kind of slacker, and will force them into working, no matter what it takes.

An airhead and a klutz by nature, Utaha is someone who trips over nothing, forgets things rather quickly, can't read the mood or take a hint, and her fingers seem to be made out of butter, everything slipping through them most of the times. Unable to ever differentiate left from right, there are few actual things she is good at, such as dancing, and also, quite few things that can upset her, being almost always able to keep her cool no matter the circumstances. Still, there are a lot of things that can upset the ever happy Utaha, such as commenting over her height or telling her that her dream to become an idol is a fool's errand.

Equipment/Skills: Weapon: Unsuited for a fighting style that is less than graceful, due to her dancing skills and clumsy nature, Utaha would actually prefer to make use of a spear or lance when the time comes, so she would be able to put it to good use with her big body.

Armor: Not much, the usual school uniform and maybe something underneath it, but nothing slowing her legs down.

Skills: Dancing, singing. Due to an elective she was practically forced to take during middle school, she also knows Judo, if at least the basics. Her grades aren't that bad either, and she's able to memorize lyrics and whatnot in a matter of seconds.

Background: Born to a family of overachievers, Utaha spent most of her life being the black sheep in a family full of people that did not know what it meant to fail, at anything at all, and given how she is, and has always been, Utaha was actually looked down upon a lot. Her brother and sister always thought of her as being worthless and also called her names related to her height and build, hence building to her build complex. Her father barely paid her any attention, and not to say anything about her mother, who knew she was too much of a goody two shoes to actually tell anyone what she was doing behind her family's back. Utaha pretty much just had to put up with it.

Her life, well, it could not be called a living hell, she did not want to call it that, since many others had it even worse than her, but it wasn't something pretty. There was a single thing that kept her on the game, and it was the love she had for the idol Kiruri Izumi. Her songs and dances got right to her heart, and even so, it wasn't the songs themselves that made her hopeful. It was the fact that anyone could become that, even her. It was not long until Izumi released a song that actually filled Utaha with the courage she needed. That day, she was able to finally tell her dad about what her mom was doing, not only wringling every penny out of him, but also cheating on him. A divorce ensued, of course, and she ended up living with her father. He was no longer able of treating Utaha as he did, even though he still spent a lot of time in his work, he now calls regularly to check on her.

Utaha now feels happy about what she did and now aims to become an idol just like Kiruri Izumi, someone that makes and sings songs that reach people's hearts and fills them with emotions, that's what she wants to do the most. Still, she finds obstacles at every turn. Not one agency has hired her in all the time she has been attending idol auditions because of her height and build not fitting the image they search for in an idol. While it puts her down at times, she still gives it her best always and keeps up a positive outlook at everything. She will not let anyone put her down or ridicule her dream of becoming an idol that will reach everyone's hearts!

Persona: Terpsichore, nicknamed Terpsi-chan by Utaha.

Appearance:

Abilities: Agi, Dia, Tarukaja.

[User]
Alexei Dragunov
Thursday, After School, April 16th

The past few days had literally flown by. Noboru had completed a startling vanishing act and to add a new question, a guy named Matthew had gone missing. A gaijin like him and apparently president of the more famous Agriculture Club.

The reports had said that he was kidnapped and that police were still looking for traces. Alexei was a bit concerned about the recent developments so he had set up for a co-worker to pick up his sister from school and drop at the hospital with his mother. That's be the last thing he would be able to contend with. She was too precious to him to not panic a bit with the new developments.

He also had decided to make changes to her daily schedule and incorporate some self defense lessons. Maybe get her excited to be Inoue's sparring buddy.

Because there was Drama on today, he wanted to be on time for once. Ensuring that Sagat would be walking Inoue home, he walked out of the lecture room straight to the practicing room.

As he walked into the room, it was still empty. He threw his bag on one of the chairs and took a look around the whole hall. Though it wasn't that grand or regal, still it had considerable size. He raised his arms beside him and inhaled deeply. He wouldn't want anyone to crash on this moment but that hardly concerned him enough to drop his pose.

The last practice was still vaguely in his mind. He wanted his impression to change on the stern president. He arched his back and looked towards the ceiling as his entire form seemed to emanate a certain oppressive force. Like a hawk just before grabbing his prey, Alexei stood there with his open, thick log-like arms and an expression of relief.

This club somewhat helped in washing away all the tension that regularly piled upon him.

[Assistant]
Kotori Shirohane - Warakuma High School: Agriculture Club | After School

Kotori wasn't really sure what to be expecting - but it certainly hadn't been the sudden approach of one of the two girls. It was only when she actually stood right before her and had to bend down to bring them face to face that Kotori realised just how tall she was - whilst she herself usually was in the taller half, this girl was something else. Kotori barely got a moment to reply to any of the questions she asked; the girl simply talking on before she had the chance - before grabbing her hands and pulling her over to the table where the other girl sat. A bit startled at how sudden it all was, she could only give a quick "Nice to meet you too, Utaha-san" and having little opportunity for a more polite bow as she was directed toward one of the seats.

Once there, the other girl - Keiko, as she'd caught her name the other day - spoke up; noting that joining would be a little difficult with no one to allow such a thing around. Introducing herself nonetheless and also reaffirming Utaha's name, Keiko then asked Kotori's name. Now seated and with a slightly dumbfounded look on her face, Kotori simply nodded before slowly regaining her wits. "Ah, yes, I'm Kotori Shirohane from Class 2-2," she confirmed after a moment's pause to both Keiko's and Utaha's question.

"Are you girls waiting for someone...?" Fidgeting with the hem of her skirt, Kotori was almost thankful when yet another voice spoke up and drew the immediate attention away from her - looking up and to the door, she saw a black-haired boy standing there who seemed to be wondering why there were three people in a club room that they weren't part of. Given that there probably was little reason for anyone to come to this room without a purpose, Kotori assumed that he was a club member - on whose club they were intruding right now. Quickly standing up, she gave a bow before speaking. "Please excuse us, we were hoping to find someone from the Agriculture Club." Her voice was as quiet as ever - and trailed off a little toward the end as she realised that she wasn't even sure if that was the real reason that Utaha and Keiko were here for. Remaining standing for an awkward moment, she then sat back down; hoping that the others would clear things up if necessary.

[User]
Sieg Kasumi: Warakuma High-Drama Club Meeting Room

The past few days flew by for Sieghardt, if he wasn't doing anything that had to do with theater and its amazing arts. Then he was usually wasting it at his house, although it did get lonely over there. He was for the most part the only one there besides his families maids, butlers, or whatever else they needed. Despite all those people being there, it always felt lonely there. Thats why he loved going to drama club, it wasn't lonely, and people reacted to what he did. Mostly Leiko, it was adorable seeing her reactions to what he would say. Last time he played a man who taunted her, it seemed to have its desired effect. This time he decided he should be more energetic than he was before. Just to throw them off a bit.

So after avoiding his teachers grasp to talk about his lovely school performance, he made his way to the auditorium while hearing about Matthew have being kidnapped, or missing. It spread quite quickly, might be cause he was a club president, or his parents got worried after him not coming home. After a couple of minutes he made his way through the auditorium entrance. He however would be second again, this time one of those mma guys beating him to the punch. He chuckled to himself about the pun. Punch, cause the guy punched things and those things being people.

Well not that it mattered, he went over to a table and sat down upon it, pulling out the play Hamlet. Might as well do some school work he enjoyed while waiting for everyone else to show up, but oh how the mighty have fallen, Leiko wasn't first this time around. That was amusing in itself.

[Assistant]
Kashiwagi Utaha - Warakuma High
After School||April 16||Agriculture Club

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Kotori-chan~! You two have such pretty names~" Utaha said, taking a seat again and complimenting both of her companions. Still, things to talk about would eventually run out, they just met now, after all, and it would be difficult to keep up a conversation with everyone when one of them was really shy. No matter how talkative she was, not even Utaha would be able to keep a conversation going with Kotori if she wasn't willing to. "How about we play shiratori~?" She suggested. Well, at the very least, they could kill some time until someone got to the club so they could hand over their applications. That is, IF someone ever showed up. They could just play between themselves until they felt like it.

Another guy suddenly showed up in the door, a guy with black hair. Though he only seemed to notice two of them, Utaha still greeted him with all of her energy, or at the very least, that's what she intended to do. When she tried to get up, Utaha suddenly fell down and hit her face directly with the floor. That was the worst timing to start being clumsy, and yet, she just had to go and fall like that. "Ouchie..." She said before, getting into a sitting position so she could caress her nose that she hit. "I'm sorry about that~ I kind of lost my balance~"

Utaha finally got up, dusted herself off and said to the guy, "As Kotori-chan said~ We were waiting for anyone else from the agriculture club so they could take our club applications, but it seems we aren't having any luck yet~ Are you in the Agriculture club as well, um...?" She asked the guy's name.


[System]
Gender
Male
Age
23
Appearance
With typical Darcsen blue-black hair and a thin beard, Harald is nothing special. His off-duty wear consists of a well-worn traditional Darscen robe adapted for his former role as a police officer with a number of leather straps and sewn in pouches. When in his uniform, Harald shows his heritage with a sash worn across the chest.
Rank
Sergeant, Squad 4 NCO Commanding
Class
Scout
Weapons and Equipment

Gallian S1 Rifle and bayonet
Grenade bandoleer with space for three B-Type M1 grenades
Small Ragnaid canister and first aid pouch
Gallian Police Constabulary Service Revolver, .38 cal
Personality
Like many of his Darcsen brethren, Harald is calm and collected, possessed of patience born from a lifetime's persecution. He is likely to bite his tongue and walk away when provoked, but rest assured he will have his vengeance in the end, even if it is a petty one. When in the presence of someone who can see beyond his dark hair, Harald is relaxed and friendly, the very picture of a smiling bobby on the beat. He treats his subordinates like his own children and is prone to occasional fits of paternal rage if they are hurt or wronged.

Bio
The Gallian Police Constabulary rarely admits Darcsen as constables, but in the southern town of Rinneheim there are exceptions. Years ago the town was home to a large ragnite refinery and its itinerant population of Darcsen workers; even once the refinery went bankrupt and the industrialists moved on, the workers stayed to settle. By the time of the Second Europan War, Rinneheim was home to hundreds of Darcsen in various professional capacities, making it both a cultural melting pot and a tempting target for regular slaving raids from across the border. In order to maintain its appearance as a national force, the GPC loosened its recruitment criteria and a young man named Harald became the first Darcsen constable in the region.

Having lost his parents to disease and being bereft of siblings, Harald was raised on the street. His early years were nothing special; a mix of begging, stealing and odd jobs. During his compulsory military education he specialised in reconnaissance and demolitions, hoping to perhaps enter the Gallian Army upon graduation. Even his career with the GPC was uneventful, as Rinneheim was a peaceful city with little crime. However as the years rolled on and tensions rose across Europa, Imperial raids across the border escalated and the GPC soon found itself working as adhoc border guards. Failure by the government and the military to protect border towns such as Rinneheim led to growing unrest among the Darcsen minority, often the target of slave raids and sometimes outright ethnic cleansing.

Finding himself caught between these two opposing forces, Harald became disillusioned with his role as a constable and began to drift away from his increasingly right-wing co-workers. As March 1935 rolled around, Harald was questioning his life and role in society, questioning whether his loyalty should be to his state or his people. The events of that day in early March soon gave him his answer.

RP Sample
A lone figure strolled down Rinneheim's main street, his breath crystallising in the early morning air. AM beats were always his favourite; the air was crisp and fresh, the people too groggy to cause problems. He thought of it as a pleasant walk after a good morning coffee at the station. He rounded a corner, entering the area known among his fellow constables as Darktown, home to Rinneheim's vibrant Darcsen community. The change in atmosphere was sudden and drastic; Darktown was alive with the sounds of industry as a dozen blacksmiths plied their trade and apprentices ran to and fro across the street. The policeman smiled, nodding to the occasional worker as he rolled a cigarette. Just as he was sparking up, a melodic voice floated down from a second story window. 'Morning Harry! Still hung over?' The copper flashed one irate finger in reply as he walked on, not even deigning to look at the young woman. 'Oh really? Really, Harald? Same place, same time tonight or I'll rip your balls off!'

The same old jokes, same old banter. Such was life in Darktown, where everyone knew one another, had grown up together; the same couldn't be said for the rest of the town. The up-town beat was Harald's least favourite, where the shop owners sneered as he passed, people crossed the street to avoid him... and worst off, the little old ladies never invited him in for a cup of tea. Philistines. As he strolled through the ghetto he passed the occasional empty building, barren and silent... The Imperial raids had grown worse recently, with entire families taken in the night. He shuddered to think what fate awaited those taken by the raiders, especially considering the... examples they sometimes left behind. Harald found himself subconsciously reaching for his old service revolver, conflicting feelings of outrage and responsibility weighing down on him. If things didn't change soon, if the government didn't take steps to protect its citizens... He glanced around morosely, reflecting on how fragile a place like Darktown was. If those raids ever became something more concrete... He stopped himself. Such pessimism had no place in the eyes of a on-duty constable. Squaring his shoulders and lighting up another cigarette, Harald set off toward the station to begin his next beat.

I want to be Nancy Dufour's Onii-chan.

[User]
Celeste

"Would be a nice change of pace with all the combat we'll see in the coming days." Celeste smiled. "I wouldn't mind just relaxing, listening to the leaves rustle in the wind, without the worry of tomorrows training or missions." She finished up after speaking. Walking out of the showers in a simple tank top and shorts. Her uniform draped over her arm, and hair properly straightened. "Well, I'd like to get some shut eye. If you're of a similar mind, would you like to follow me?" She had a smile on her face "I won't be offended if you want to socialize with a few of the others before you go to bed." She walked off to the bunks.

Brenna

Brenna waited for a few minutes after the Sergeant left, before she let out and exhausted sigh. She looked to the bench, and chose to slouch into it. She needed to relax for a bit before she could walk to the bunks. With everything being communal, she was sure to have many more encounters. Brenna had been lucky to slip by in the showers.

After a few minutes, Brenna stood up and went to the bunk room, falling asleep almost immediately once she laid down on a bed.

[Assistant]
Lilly's Post
Lilly had just managed to finish straightening her hair, when Celeste left the shower. She decided not to take her up on her offer, though, as Lilly wanted to meet a few more people. Maybe chat with Private Glaive. "If you have no objections, Corporal, I would like to talk with a few more people. It would be good to get to know more of the squad." With Celeste's permission, Lilly saluted and then turned to head towards the common room. It was getting late, but other people might still be there.

...

Apparently the squad had been far more tired than she had anticipated. When Lilly got to the common area, she found it empty, with everyone who had been there before having already gone to bed. Shrugging, sat down at one of the chairs and gazed out the window. The sun had already set and the moon was high in the sky, providing just enough light to write or read by. Lilly didn't want to go to sleep just yet. She was tired, but there were a great deal of things on her mind. She decided to write a letter home, both to inform her father and aids that she was still unharmed, as well as to request supplies and clear her head. Writing had always helped to calm her mind.

"Dear Father, I am writing to inform you that I still live..."

...

The letter took longer than Lilly had expected, taking nearly two hours before she was satisfied. She smiled as she folded it up and headed back to her room. Her father would no doubt be pleased to hear that she was safe, and her butlers and maids would probably be interested in learning of what she had been doing in her training. She even had included a humble request for supplies from her father, explaining the situation of how the militia squads were relatively poorly equipped and needed to seek out their own benefactors. Her father had not approved of her joining the militia in the slightest, but she doubted that he would let that petty grievance cloud his judgement. He could probably spare a crate or two of rifles and munitions for them, the only question was how long it would take for them to arrive.

Sneaking into the female quarters, Lilly crept past the occupied bunks as quietly as she could, not wanting to disturb anyone's rest. Eventually she came to her bed located on the bottom bunk at the far end of the room. Placing her letter into her footlocker to be mailed tomorrow, Lilly lay down for the evening, hoping to be able to get a good rest for the next days training. This was not to pass, however, as her sleep was disturbed by constant horrifying and violent nightmares. She was going to look very haggard tomorrow, indeed.

Evan's Post
The rest of the group seemed to be of a similar opinion to him, but everyone was tired. Not much conversation sparked up after that, and it didn't take long for people to start trickling back to their bunks to bed down for the evening. Eventually, Evan decided to follow suit, waving goodbye to Alex and heading through the door. "G'night, Glaive. See you in the morning."

After trudging up the hallway and into the male sleeping quarters, he set about in search of his bunk. It turned out his bunk bed was on the upper level, and was directly over top of Alonso. "Night, Kid." Evan's booming voice echoed through the room, a bit louder than he intended, no doubt startling the boy who seemed to be half a minute away from nodding off. Clambering up the wooden latter, he fell onto his bed with a thud, falling asleep nearly instantly. Despite not acting like it, he actually was exhausted from the days work.


[System]
Character age:
23
Physical information:
Loria is a slender woman of average height, surprisingly healthy even after the most recent years of personal misfortune. Even though she's somewhat muscled (compared to her former peers), she's mostly suited to tasks of speed, agility and dexterity but isn't particularly strong. She does well in (close quarters) combat due to some skill and a fierce demeanour. Her skin tone is naturally a nice tan, but as she is nowadays usually covered in some sort of dust, dirt and/or grime, coupled with her attire and various visible minor wounds, she has an overall rough appearance.
Those who know what to look for would see long thin spider-like fingers, angular facial features and a seemingly innate grace of movement and confidence of posture, all signs of someone born in one of the high castes, but all most see are the signs of a prisoner – a head shorn almost to the point of baldness, the simple but standardized clothing and perhaps the most damning sign; a brand of a runic letter on her left palm (near the base of the thumb) representing her crime (betrayal). She has black hair (what little there is of it), blue-grey eyes and wears dark grey trousers, sleeveless shirt and has a warm cloak for nights or cold days. After being released from imprisonment (to be sent on the Path of the Void), she was given some basic personal equipment and supplies (knife, dagger, backpack with spare clothes, first aid, water flask and such).
Psychological information:
Her rather sheltered and mostly happy childhood has given her a solid foundation for good mental health even in adulthood, though she has long since grown out of her initial naivety. Loria retains some of the adventurous, curious and at times thrill-seeking spirit she had displayed in childhood, but those traits have been heavily tempered by her being disillusioned by reality. Her life experiences have shown her that her early good life was just an illusion her father had tried to maintain for them both. At her very core, Loria is now a determined survivalist.
The event that lead to her imprisonment revealed to her that she is quite temperamental under pressure. She suffers from mild insomnia due to her father, mother and ex-fiancé haunting her dreams in various life states (that is, alive, dead, as ghosts and everything in between). The less sleep she gets the more irritable she becomes and even as she curses this weakness, she can't help but eventually succumb and resort to some sort of violence (preferably in a controlled manner/environment where it would cause least harm). This frustrates Loria particularly because she deeply believes in cooperation, tolerance and patience as the best basis for relationships with other people. Her time in prison made her much less trusting and she is now willing to only make allies, close acquaintances at best, perhaps tentative friendships in extreme and unlikely cases. She is proud of her heritage, but ashamed of her crime and will tell others that her reason for volunteering for the mission is to be accepted back into society (on the slim chance that she returns successful), however she is in truth on a search for atonement.
Biography:
Loria was born in the Ar'revik hermit community of the Kraahr Mountains to the two people who were the Hand. Her community has always been led by a married pair who were the Hand together and as such, when Loria's mother died about 5 years after her birth, her father – now a widower – became one of the Wise (considered an offshoot of the Path of the Hand and as such not a path switch). The Wise is a collective name for people who had either been on the Path of the Hand and hadn't been chosen or people who had for some reason or another ceased being the Hand. The Wise serve as mentors, elders and advisors to others and are generally considered to be the bridge between the ruling and common folk. A person of the Wise is usually closest to one Path and their people. He or she may also choose to complete some of that Path's trials if doing so would be more beneficial to cooperation with that specific group and to the whole community.
Even though Loria's father was no longer the Hand, she was the heiress to one of those families expected to go on the Path of the Hand. Besides being on the Path of Knowledge alongside others, her father also passed down some of his expertise to her, which was culturally expected and more than acceptable. Loria was somewhat sheltered by her father but she gradually learned on her own that everything was nowhere nearly quite so well. She also had a penchant to sneak off with some other children to watch the Rangers, whom she admired (not at all uncommon), go on their missions and return from them.

As she entered her teen years, her father's health began deteriorating and even though this affected them both negatively, Loria felt that they could get by as long as they had each other. She was eventually introduced to her (at that time) future fiancé, a heir to another prominent family, who would be her partner in their attempts to become the Hand. Loria's first impressions were that her fiancé (a few years' older male of the Seroux family) was cold-hearted, stand-offish and almost obsessed with becoming the Hand, but this hadn't worried her initially.
She eventually completed her coming of age trial and officially got engaged to her fiancé. They began on the Path of the Hand, having to compete against tree other pairs in their generation (there were usually 3 – 8 pairs on this path per generation). However it was also at this time that Loria's father's health declined even further and soon after she had started on her Path with her fiancé, her father died. After this, Loria was left with practically no support – her fiancé was indifferent and at times rude and any other people she had been close to were busy with their own paths. The culmination of grief, stress, various rumours, accusation from her fiancé, lack of sleep and an eventual failure in one of their trials resulted in a remarkable argument between Loria and her fiancé in which she somehow or other injured him gravely, nearly causing his death. He did survive, but Loria (from too high a caste to be exiled) was imprisoned indefinitely.

The change from her life as a part one of the high castes in a community where cooperation was a highly practiced ideal, to the life of a prisoner where competition was rife and the culture was more similar to what one would expect of Wastelanders, was tremendous. There was a system in place where prisoners would be able to either return to society through earning trust and reputation of the people by completing various tasks and jobs or eventually be sent to the Wastes (which some found a preferable option). Prisoners competed amongst themselves – most for (better) living arrangements, some to get any job, others for what were considered the "best" tasks, some just because they wanted to be left alone and a few because they wanted in on an expedition to the Wastes. It was here that Loria picked up various skills and combat experiences, though she never became a master of any one particular thing (if she wanted to, she would have to return to society and officially start on a Path). Seeing the mission to the Void as the best available option, she volunteered, and due to the reputation (as being mostly reliable) she has earned during her years taking on various tasks as a prisoner, she was accepted. Even though she's quite experienced considering her age, she's ultimately unprepared for what it means to be in the outside world facing its dangers for any long periods of time.

[User]
e̒̒̑̈́̌ͨ̚ ̫̫͔n͓̳̟̫̂̒̀ͮ̊ ͙͚̗̏͛̐ͅt̼̳͙̯̎̔ ͫr̩̙̒̽̊̐̚ ̳̞̬̦̑o͈̲̺̟͎͋̒͛ͩͅ ͚̱͙͇̲̗̩̔ͨͮ͋͒p̮͉͉ͯ ̟̣̳̿ͨ͋ͬ̒y͖no̡ųn •̵ ͘a͟ ́la̧c͘k̵ ͡of ǫr͠d͟ér͟ or̷ pr҉e̛di̕c͟t̵a̴b̵i̴l҉it͡y̢; ҉gr͜a̸d̡ùal ͞de̴cline i̴nt̕o̷ disor̶d̀èr.
i n c h a r a c t e r

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[Assistant]
t h e m o u n t a i n s o f j u l ' r i t a r z i

t h e f i r s t d a y

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Even the great wastes, barren and cruel as it is, seemed to understand: for this many mountain hermits to venture through the valley, something truly abnormal was happening. No event in the hermit's history, not any Void Conclave or meeting of hands, led this many hermits to embark on pilgrimage. By all accords, the Fourth Void Conclave shouldn't be unusual - albeit, in all fairness, rare - but this time, more than the hands and the offerings embarked on the journey to the Jul'ritarzi Mountains, the traditional site of the Void Conclaves. This time, the five Lorekeeper Enclaves were summoned to the Conclave; never had the Lorekeeper Enclaves made a journey like this in the history of their path, leading many to wonder and speculate. Had the hands lost their minds, now bearing the prophecies of the keepers alongside the teachings of the minds? Or is something more complicated at work?

The Jul'ritarzi Mountains, of all the mountains of Myar, are the most unique. Some would call them grand: the tallest of the five ranges, going as far as to pierce the clouds; others would call them ominous: Gothic and unforgiving in their steep construction, with steep paths and points sharp enough to stab a man with. For many in the great wastes, it's an ominous warning: that the mountain hermits are cruel people, for only demons would live in a mountain range fit for a hellscape; many of them lack a sense of irony. It was here that all prior Voidsmen were sent out into the abyss, from the rocket ship fired from the Last Path's Reentrant on the east side of the mountain range to the sleeker vehicle more like a house in design, believed to be from the last days before the cataclysm.

From all corners of Myar, envoys for the Fourth Void Conclave have made their way to the Jul'ritarzi Mountains. Near the greatest summit of the mountain, in the ominously undisclosed depths of the Hall of the Void, the Hand and Keepers of the Jul'ritarzi Mountains wait for their distant counterparts to arrive.


[System]
* Age: 228
* Gender: Female
* Race: Sentient Undead (Human)
* Appearance:
 Though at one time as shiny and luminescent as pictured, Tyaethe's armour has lost much of its lustre due to a combination of two hundred years of constant use and an inability to perfectly clean it whilst in use. The result is a blurring of the intricate detailing on the paladin's shield and armour, and the shining metal is now a dull grey verging on black—when not coated in blood. It got cleaned. The scarf obscures how the throat is heavily armoured, beyond what one would expect of such an ensemble.
Though none still in the knights can say for certain what she looks like underneath all the armour, her eyes are clearly an unusually brilliant red and her hair white. Since the armour's on the intentionally bulky side and doesn't come off, it's not quite clear what Tyaethe's height is... though probably over six feet. Currently, she seems to be trapped in appearance as a child... though her armour's size doesn't quite mesh with the old paintings.
* Personality: If there's one thing that all her instructors tried to do, it was to cure Tyaethe of her temper. Fervour and determination in a battle is all well and good but carrying that attitude over to your everyday life? Despite their efforts, it was a fruitless endeavour and the tall paladin is as irascible as ever, though with enough self-control to avoid the worst outcomes.
At heart, Tyaethe is a dutiful knight and a good person. So despite her frequent anger, she has never once backed down on her duties or struck out at a child or someone truly innocent, even if rather aggressive verbally. Her unfaltering devotion to her duty—or anything else, as she seems too stubborn to ever back down—is best exemplified by her continued presence in the Iron Rose Knights, despite the drift from being a religious order.
Something more familiar to the newer recruits than the veterans is her sullenness and risk-taking. Not a behaviour always evident but at the same time a concerning trend, as if her patience for something is running out.
One trait carried over from her normal life is a dislike of being seen out of her armour. Since Elionne's death, this has exacerbated into a full refusal to remove it for any reason short of their first captain's return. Partly, at least, this is to prevent anyone from learning of her undeath and to preserve the idea of an immortal knight.
* Brief Backstory: Tyaethe was born to a minor noble family and, as the only child, was expected to carry on the family's duty as knights. To this end, at the age of seven, her education was entrusted to an important but highly religious duke that owed her father his life. It was for this reason that instead of continuing on to be a squire, the young Tyaethe pledged her service to the church and became a paladin.
As an adult, her strength and steadfast service was admirable, even though her hot-headed attitude caused friction with some of those she had to work with. It was for this reason that she was granted the honour of protecting the High Priestess and, when reports of an incoming force surfaced, left Falthir in order to conduct the fighting when she wouldn't be at risk. Naturally, this backfired and it was only Elionne's intervention that prevented the deception from being successful due to the diversion of the guards.
Owing the maiden for fulfilling her duty where she could not, Tyaethe swore to serve her in life and in death, second only to the goddesses. Part of the Iron Rose Knights since their inception, Tyaethe's death came in a pitched battle where their foes managed to split herself, Elionne, and some less experienced knights from the majority of their comrades.
The reason for her survival has never been perfectly explained. Some of the knights assumed it was just sheer luck and the high level of mana in the region and the more religious assigned it to divine intervention. Some of her detractors have even accused Tyaethe of dabbling in necromancy. As for the paladin herself, she cites her oath and willpower, as well as a refusal to go down whilst Elionne was still in danger. The fact of her undeath has been kept a secret within the knights, to cultivate a reputation as an immortal holy warrior, though doubtless people have guessed the truth.
Tyaethe has been unsurprisingly steadily more bitter since the original captain left, wanting to know why and find out what happened. Despite this, she has faithfully explained new captains their duties and guided them through it, even as the knights have drifted further and further from the religious unit she joined.
* Equipment: Forged nearly two hundred years before, the styling of Tyaethe's armour is antiquated to say the least—though the decorations, obscured as they are, resemble the current pieces made on the behalf of the church. Few people can move efficiently in such weighty protection, let alone adjust to how it restricts movement in order to fight but even going for its vulnerabilities leads to a difficult time in scoring a fatal injury. Of particular note is the one addition made before Elionne left: a reinforced gorget, to make even accidental decapitation even less likely.
Her other armament consists of a sword that most refuse to treat as one and an immense shield. Both are as long as she is tall and the sword itself unreasonably broad and tough; it crushes as much as it actually cuts. The shield, scratched though the design is over the years, contains a wolf rampant in its design—a lesser-used Mayonite symbol.
All three pieces were blessed and enchanted to regenerate under moonlight, since even before Tyaethe's death they took vast amounts of punishment and repairing them manually was prohibitively costly.
* Skills: Raised as a member of the nobility and intended to become a far more ordinary knight, Tyaethe knows falconry, board games, how to ride, and the social graces needed for polite company. All of these skills, save the riding—and that relies on draught horses in her case—are incredibly rusty skills due to neglect. Her literacy and ability to recite scripture on a whim, due to her training as a paladin, are as strong as ever.
In combat, Tyaethe's immense strength and armour leads to an approach best likened to an oncoming tide: she's not the most agile or that hard to hit but actually stopping her or resisting the offence is futile. Her speed can also be deceptive; she chooses to adopt a slow approach for psychological reasons and is more than capable of surging forwards to strike down a threat. Though a shield might seem redundant with such armour, she happily uses it as a second weapon or to force an opening from someone hoping to budge her defence.
With over a century of experience on her side and an initial training in the arts of warfare, Tyaethe is also a valuable tactical and strategic source—provided that you ask her opinion when she's not agitated in some manner and ensure that the reason Tyaethe suggests she be put in the thick of it is due to needing an immovable obstacle.

[User]
Even in this situation, the Knight Slayer grinned. It was a vicious, animalistic grin, filled with cold joy at the prospect of death and pain.

His enormous sword flashed, clashing against the undead knight's. With inhuman-seeming strength, he pushed the attack off-course, and whirled to deflect the blow from Garret with speed that would have seemed quite unlikely for someone with one useless arm and such a massive sword. His feet shifted, and suddenly he was further back, the massive blade raised and his eyes wild, almost sharpened teeth visible in a widening grin.

"You think you can win!?" he snarled. Even though the odds, of course, seemed to favor the knights, Jeremiah seemed to believe otherwise. How could one injured man believe that he held the advantage? "Years and years of my life have been spent spilling blood time and time again! My whole life is a song of violence! Never has a day passed where I did not kill a man! Can you say the same, knights?! Can you tell me you have done the same?!"

His enormous blade glistened with the blood of the man he had cut in half not long before he engaged in battle with Fanilly, as Jeremiah raised it towards his opponents.

"Your order will die here, by my hand! Today you-"

There are some things that no-one can expect. As wild and manic as he was, Jeremiah was focused on his opponents. He had not seen a spell cast beyond the now-frozen log. For all his experience in the act of killing, his bloody-minded rage intermixed with glee had kept him from perceiving this more distant threat. At least, until this moment.

The golden bolt of lightning tore towards him, faster then he realized. Jeremiah's eyes widened in shock, and he had no time to react. No time to dodge.

There was a crack like thunder as it hit him. The bolt exploded through his body, crackling as it burned a hole clear through him, a wide, smoking cavity that exited out his back, showing nothing but blackened, unrecognizable matter around the edges. The bolt hit the ground with another thunderclap, tossing up dirt and debris behind him.

Jeremiah took a step back.

"... Kuh... you... damn you..."

He let out a wheeze, falling to his knees.

"I... always hated... magic..."

He fell, face down into the dirt, his enormous blade clattering against the ground.

Knight's Doom Jeremiah, the Three Hundred Man-Slayer, was dead.

[Assistant]
Tiral stared at Marianne with an incredulous look as she asked for his aid. His hands were already sort of tied right now, given how he was not exactly in a position to cast much anything else unless he wanted to risk going unconscious in the middle of the battlefield. At the same time, though, with his goal having already been achieved by now and the bandits mostly routed, the mage responded with a nod and a somewhat-strained smile as he drew his dagger from its icy sheath.

"I shall... Do my best."

What he was not expecting, though, was the spear of lightning that his fellow knight had formed right in front of him. The heat was astounding, melting the ice near where she had anchored herself nearby. How she could stand retaining such a spell... Well, given how Tiral hadn't ventured out further past his current repertoire, maybe it would be in his best interests to learn what caused this phenomenon. Later, though. That would have to come later.

The fight against the Captain's enemy was over in an instant; once the spear of lightning had launched, it was as if it became an unstoppable force, easily plowing through the man's chest and leaving nothing but a burnt hole in its wake. Tiral winced at the sight; how brutal. Unforgiving.

But somehow satisfying to see.

"Well. That was... A spectacle. Could do with some more speed in the incantation, though..." Tiral mused to himself as he extended a hand to help Marianne down from the log. There seemed to be a bit of electricity floating around her in terms of spark, but surely that was just a trick of the light, right?

[User]
Sult bit her lip, as she watched the effect of her little trick miss her mark, but not entirely. It was all a moot point, though, as both the undead and Sir Garret restarted the assault with renewed strength, as if two wild beasts smelling the blood from a wounded prey. She snapped her head at her surroundings, noticing a cold draft enveloping the trunk.

Wow, certain ice jerk is really useful to come around. She pondered, wondering briefly how many people she would have to offer displays of gratitude today. Better make a list or something. It was then when a second sensation crept up in the back of her neck, as she stiffed slightly and huddled against Fanilly, shielding her captain once more with her body. Her eyes peeked at the figure of Marianne, reading something that seemed more overcompensation than any spell proper.

Well, looks like you're done for. I love when I don't have much to do! She thought, but for a second she shielded Fanilly's view from the gory explosion. She was a captain, but that wasn't something kids should see. Heck, not even adults should see that.

"Woah, Sparky. That um...was impressive. It almost makes me feel like stealing a kiss from your maiden's lips!" Sult publically anounced, while crouching down and quickly reaching the ear of her captain.

"Well, captain, we somehow got through. We need to regroup and report. And there is that piece of museum who will keep judging you, so do your best gameface and give them praise, asking for a report aswell. Hang in there, okay?" She whispered, probably crossing several lines while doing so. It didn't matter. She was the dead last of three girls and four boys, and never had a little sister to counsel. "We'll talk later." She said, before unfolding and releasing the captain from her protection, her face quickly assembling in her slightly smiling of a visage.

"That was a BIIIG rat." Sult whistled to everyone, looking at the corpse. "Oh, but sir Garret, you're wounded. Stupid rats and their fangs, yes? But you're kind of a good sport...so maybe Sult has a freebie for you."

The knight damsel advanced upon the barbarian, and winking slightly, she recited.

"O Lady of the Sun. Bathe thine children in thy divine light, and banish the decay upon this body." Her hand started to glow in a warm gold, and the wounds began to close in the sculpted physique of the barbarian. Although it seemed somehow that her hand lingered far too long in some parts, aswell.

She then flicked her hair, proud of her handiwork. "I normally hate showing off my priestess training, so consider yourself fortunate."

[Assistant]
That was disappointing. There was no other way to put the way that bout had ended, though with the number of people involved it was inevitable that he would have been brought down so easily. The battlefield never allows for a fight to be savoured. To be sent to hunt something down alone once again...

The church seemed to feel no need to call on Tyaethe for any other obligations and so she shoved it to the back of her mind, taking stock of the battle winding down. Someone had put the tree out, interestingly, which meant they might have proper magical support in the future rather than these tricks. To make sure any bandits still fighting on the other side of the trunk realised how little chance they had, the undead knelt and grasped the knight slayer's body, hefting it before shunting it to the other side of the tree. They could pick it up in a few minutes if Fanilly wanted to take proof.

One of the newcomers seemed to have shielded the captain from the view. A strange choice but, with the number of people cut in two today, probably not an unwelcome one. Tyaethe continued to emulate a statue and watched her for some reason come over. The grey-armoured knight twitched at the unnecessary battlefield flirting... but the healing was interesting. Priestess training? Maybe the order wasn't entirely devoid of the faithful after all.

Now that things were finished, however...

"Captain, I would prefer it if you did not send me to a separate flank in future. Had this bandit been armoured..."