[System]
Race: Human (Calishit)

Age: 24

Class: Monk/Fighter

Physical Description: Rhaak has dark eyes and tan skin. He has long legs and powerful arms, standing near six feet in height, with a lean but muscled physique. Broad shouldered and trim, he cuts a statuesque figure. His face is youthful, giving him a look of someone a few years his junior. With kind eyes and a 5'oclock shadow, he seems both gentle and dangerous at the same time. He wears a maroon vest with matching pants, over a blue undershirt with a blue sash belt. His boots are travel fit, and he wears a chain necklace underneath his clothes that his father gave him.

Mental Description/Personality: A fierce pit fighter from the city of Memnon, Rhaak has a a down-to-earth sense of life and an honor code that becomes noticeable the longer you spend time with him. He hates being chained or imprisoned, as he grew up a slave that had to fight and win his freedom. He has a dry wit and a sarcastic sense of humor when he feels the situation calls for it, but otherwise he is blunt and matter of fact. Rhaak is a good man deep down, with a highly developed sense of loyalty and determination.

[User]
Rhaak blinked, the darkness of the room hiding the black iron cage to the left of him. He was certain he would have found it within moments, but the sudden noise had him turning that way immediately. The voice was attractive and feminine, but within the dungeon of a mad wizard, he tended to trust very little. His warrior senses were heightened, but the cold fury of being trapped in this dark place had a neutral look upon his face, save his severe eyes.

He approached the cage, to see a tall Moon Elf maiden chained within. He blinked, surprised at the odd hue of her skin and the white of her hair. Most people he had seen within his lifetime were tan skinned and dark haired like he was. Other than a few traders from Luskan with golden heads.

Rhaak could tell she was a prisoner like himself, however, and he sighed audibly. "Hold on," the muscled brawler told her. He set the torch down, and searched through the keychain, trying out four different keys before the fifth one popped her cage door open. He then approached her in the cage, holding his hands out to show he meant no harm, and knelt down beside her slowly as he searched for the next key to unlock the chains on her arms that held her to the wall.

"You ok?" He asked her breathily.

[Assistant]
Morwen eyed the tall youth that entered her cage. Human, cautious and trying to help....but the Wizard's techniques weren't above attempts to disarm, this could be another technique to extract information from her. Whatever the situation it was better to be facing it out of chains. She moved around to give the human access to to keyhole on her chains and smiled up at him.

"Fine, fine...I often visit this spa." Her throat was dry and voice horse but she still managed the sarcasm with a smile. "Thank you" She added, not wanting him to think her ungrateful.

Up close she could see the concentration in the human's eye, he seemed very aware of his surroundings and his muscles...well, if there was ever a fighter's body this human had it. If her spells didn't return after leaving the cell at least they would still have a good chance of fighting their way out.

[User]
As luck would have it, Rhaak had heard of the Calimshan Pasha's down in his home country having 'spas,' so the joke wasn't lost on him. He allowed himself a ghost of a smirk, and then there was a sudden 'clink.' Morwen would feel the strength of the chains that were holding her arms above her head suddenly give, and the weight of her arms would finally let them fall below her shoulders. "No problem." he told her, backing up to give her room to stretch or stand.

He could see her well enough, though the dark was much harsher on his eyes than an Elf's. But from her clothing she wasn't a warrior or fighter. He didn't know if she'd slow him down at all, or if she was an evil fey that he unwittingly unleashed as he tried to escape. But he tried to tell himself that was just him being paranoid. Any prisoner of the wizard who put him here was a friend of his for the time being.

It was at that moment he realized he was parched, and his dry tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth for a brief moment. He swallowed, but that helped very little. There was a desk behind him that he had not checked yet, having heard this Elf's voice as soon as he had entered the room.

[Assistant]
Morwen felt the days of ache ease a little as the chains dropped from her arms, a fog lifted from her mind - one she didn't even realise had settled at first. She stretched her body, following a short warm up routine drummed into her from years of dance as a young girl.

Once she was done the aches were still there, the hunger and grime but she felt new energy inside. Tentatively she flexed her hands and prepared her mind, reaching for one of the most basic spells. A small ball of light blossomed from her palm and floated up to rest above her, illuminating the cell a little better than the torch had. It was a bitter sweet success, the spell had worked...but it showed her just how vile the cell she had lived in was. She had to get out.

Morwen strode after the muscled fighter as he left the cell and headed for the desk.

"How did you escape?" She asked, more interested in checking he wasn't part of the wizard's plan than hearing the actual story.

[User]
Rhaak leaped in surprise at the winding ball of light, the hardened warrior visage suddenly becoming much younger with the fright, and even a bit niave in a flash, due to the sudden surprise of magic. He collected himself quickly though, blinking. For a second he did let his paranoia get the better of him, but she didn't seem to be attacking him or leading him into any trap. He turned around and placed a hand on the table, grabbing the torch he had placed on the ground and lifting it to see the table's contents.

"Goblins are stupid and this one let its guard down," the tanned warrior replied, matter of fact. Some dust from the surrounding unused cells had him wrinkle his nose, and he wiped his face with his forearm, sniffing while the items on the table became visible. There was an iron long dagger, 3 gold coins, along with some dried beef, a bronze key, and a cup of water not much larger than a few ounces. Rhaak let his instincts drive him first, reaching down for the water cup and lifting it to his lips.

But before he supped, he turned and looked to the Elven maiden that had approached him. He hesitated, and then handed her the cup for her to drink. "Doesn't smell bad like the water and grog they'd been giving us." He told her, ignoring the dryness of his own mouth, and then grabbed the bronze key, holding it up before his face. He didn't know where it led, or if it even mattered. But better safe than sorry.

He'd take a sip of the water if she left any. Somehow, he felt it worse that she drank from his cup rather than the opposite. He felt he had a better constitution.

[Assistant]
The youth in the man's face surprised Morwen - though the youth in the eyes of any human had once come as a surprise to her. She remembered the first human she met...so old in his face but his eyes hadn't the chance to see the world. This human, however, was busying himself with the contents of the table in front.

"..this one let its guard down" The warrior was saying, the simple explanation either a sign of modesty or a cover story he hadn't much chance to explain. Either way Morwen could cast again now, she felt much safer in that knowledge.

Morwen took the cup, the water wasn't perfect but, as the warrior said, it beat the alternative she had been living on. She sipped carefully, making sure to leave half - she wasn't going to let herself be any further indebted to this man.

The warrior took the key from the desk, a good move though the bunch of keys he already held must open twenty or so other doors and cages.

"Any clue which way is out?" She asked, gazing up and down the corridor curiously.

[User]
Rhaak handed her the knife he had found, giving it to her as a sign of trust. Of course, he'd still watch her very carefully. But it would help neither of them if they both distrusted one another. He wanted out of this dungeon, one way or another. Besides, he also didn't need the blade to be effective if they ran into anything dangerous. As he handed her the knife, he took the cup from her and sipped it greedily, the water quenching his parched, muscled form.

He let out a gasp of satisfaction, and wiped his forearm across his lips. "No, but we'll need to look." He told her, placing the other items in his pockets. He'd give her any of the coins if she asked for them, and then he nodded for her to follow him.

They walked for merely a minute, through the initial archway and down the corridor. The walls were lined with stout stonework and chains hanging limply. Rhaak walked in front of his new Elven companion, as he had the torch, though he glanced back at her often. Even if he believed she was there to get out like he was, someone he had just met and just armed was something to watch. That, and it was also to make sure she was not harmed from some unknown trap.

Soon the corridor turned to the left, and they found themselves looking at a (somewhat) larger room, with six Goblins hauling stones onto a small cart that was then pushed onto a railing, fleeing sight. They then began to fill another cart with building stones as well, working with grumbling reluctance. A large Bugbear stood watch over them, a whip in his clawed hand. The cavernous room looked to be carved out of natural stone, with various entrances out of it across the expanse of the room from where Rhaak and Morwen peeked in. Rhaak pulled the Elf back, whispering so as they couldn't be heard.

"What do you think?" He asked her, his breath hot on her ear from the cramped hallway.

[Assistant]
Morwen took the knife, if her spells failed again it would give her a much better chance. She didn't mention the coins the human had picked up, at the moment the knife was much more valuable. As they continued on through the dungeon the number of prisoners it could host became apparent, empty chains, scratches and stains decorated the walls they passed. The human kept glancing back, Morwen met his gaze with a smile - either he was jumpy and cautious of her or he wanted to ensure she was following some trick...either way a disarming smile was never a bad idea.

They moved down towards the sound of movement and Morwen saw the human's body language change, she made to look past but he pulled her back, asking her opinion. She could hear the movement of several Goblins in the large room ahead, it all depended on the ability of the human but the only real option was to pass through this room.

"We're going to have to get past." She whispered back, moving her mouth to his ear "Either we fight or we sneak...I might be able to confuse some of them whilst we fight the rest. Do you think you can take a few running at you?"

[User]
Confuse them? Rhaak seemed unsure for a moment. Not at his own ability, but he didn't know what this maiden was capable of. She did not seem to be malevolent from what he could tell, however. If she'd wanted to attack him, there had been more than a few opportunities he had presented her just in case.

"I can handle it." He said to her confidently, but grabbed her arm before they moved. "We need to take out the Bugbear, though." Rhaak needed to mention that before he forgot. The Bugbear was a Goblonoid, except unlike the other subspecies, he was seven feet in height and weighed twice as much as most men, with its long claws and a bestial nose that gave the Goblonoid its name. "If we take that out, the Goblins will scatter probably, and there'll be less of a chance of our attack being reported. I can try to kill him if you keep the Goblins off of me."

He gave her a reassuring smile, and let her go. He was ready when she was, and told her as much just before stood up.

[Assistant]
'need to take out the Bugbear' Morwen repeated the statement to herself incredulously 'Oh, he looked harmless, I thought I'd leave him be' her sarcastic mind pushed her lips to repeat the thought but she held back. In battle they needed to be alert and to the point, especially when their partnership was so uncertain. Her nod acknowledged his plan and her hands prepared to carry it out.

The feel of the magic coursed through her as she prepared her spell. First confusion - not a spell she was adept at but one the smaller goblins would most likely fall prey to - once that was done she would cover the human against attack from those who still posed a threat.

As he stood she released the confusion spell, driving it on towards the Goblin workers, her mind switching to draw on her destructive powers now.


[System]
Race: Unseelie Fae

Gender: Male

Age: ???

Personality: Like all Fae, Velethuil is a deal-maker. Bargain with him at your peril, as any debt will be collected on whether you want it to be or not. Worded bonds create power, which he capitalises on to great effect. Each interaction is carefully chosen to never allow for an advantage to be gained over him. He isn't sadistic, despite this, it is merely in his nature. A gleefulness accompanies a job well done. Coldly intellectual, Velethuil doesn't view things through rose-tinted glasses, but rather seeing things exactly as they are. Caring not about emotions or morals, he will do whatever helps him the most in any given situation. Serving only his own interest, he plays politics like a great game sweeping through the Bravado upper echelon like a ghost, meeting those players with the most power and seeing how they can be of use. Velethuil is characterised by a razor-sharp wit and silver tongue.

Bio: In their defense, it's hard to tell and Elf and a Fae apart.

Both hair pointy ears, both have too-perfect features. Only one is dangerous in a conversation. It hadn't even been difficult. Challenging the drunken noble to a game of cards, then throwing harder than a dwarf does his fists. Offering a small gift to the far superior player, she greedily accepted the token. Trap set.

Naturally, offering another game with higher stakes met the anticipated response. She was more than happy to oblige him, seeing the chance for more riches. The hand dealt to him was nothing short of rotten, but that didn't matter. As the last play approached, he asked her to come good on their debt. Obviously, that was met with a quizzical look. The gift had locked them into a contract, one which she now had to pay, in the form of conceding the match. A favour for a favour. Velethuil smiled. Trap sprung.

Hurling all the insults under the sun, she was utterly powerless to stop the unfolding events. Despite the game being poker, he held all the cards. The choice was simple, give up and lose her title, estate and riches. Or don't, and leave a Fae with all the power he wanted over you until the debt was satisfied.

Reminiscing old events was fantastic, especially when accompanied by a soft velvet chair and glass of fine wine in an opulent mansion. That definitely helped things. Things had taken a rather nasty turn when she produced an iron dagger and swung with it, but the guards quickly subdued her. What he had done wasn't illegal, it was common knowledge to never deal with a Fae. Thankfully, the nobles of Bravado fancied themselves more intelligent than the rest of the world, which made them easy pickings. Still, he was thankful for not having to deal with that again. A steel bolt had once found it's merry way into his side, and the scar was still there. Had it been pure iron, he wouldn't be sitting here now.

Regardless, it was time to stop mulling over old memories. He had too many to count as it was, and there was a dinner waiting for him at a Lord's estate, just up the roar. More drunken nobles, ripe for the taking.

Weapons: Snark.

Equipment: Fine, dark-blue and black regalia. A heavy black cloak with white fur lining.

Special Skills: Faerie magic, including glamour to change appearance if need be.
Ability to leverage outstanding deals to influence and bind people.
Expert of ice magic.

[User] Alexander was walking back to Escudo, returning from a day of searching for work. He was obviously tired, spending more than ten hours running around. As he returned to the city, he noticed a commotion. He heard "Xavier" being thrown around often. Xavier? Who is he? Alexander thought to himself. He returned to his estate, removing his armor and changing into more comfortable clothing. Alexander then left and set out to the tavern to get a drink and catch up on some of the latest rumors.

[Assistant]
"Ello Alexander was was your day today?" The barmaid named Jane with a smile on her face,"The usually i would guess?What did the king make ya do today?" She asked him filling up a large mug filled with his favorite mead.The folks around him were talking about a mute solider that was a monster in the battlefield and another rumor of a orc in Escudo that was a exiled prince of his tribe.

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

Meanwhile Xavier was riding on his black horse named "Raknor" riding towards Merche,He knew this would make him a target but knew that Bravado and Meche have a alliance and would not want to break their alliance because of him.He would not want to break this himself he liked the peace and wanted peace to the land and thought his king would be the one to bring peace.

He made his way onto the main road towards Meche thinking of what he would do when he finds the spy,Would he have to fight him he didn't want kill him since the king wanted the spy alive.

[User] Alexander smiled, always happy to see Jane at the tavern. "Ah, yes, The usual indeed." He said, watching her fill the mug. "I was ordered to clear out Blackwater Cave. There was a bear too close to the path to the city." He replied to her. He listened as he heard the gossip going around. That must be Xavier. Alexander thought, piecing the small bits of stories together.

[Assistant]
In Meche nobody cared about the rumors of spy, Especially Astador who Just Wake up. He dressed up and then, as a Captain gave every Guard his Point he will Protect. Astador decided to give Main Gate to himself, because there was rumors that somebody important will enter the Town today. Astador wanted to make Upper Captain proud.

One of the merchants missed his papers and after not letting him in, tryed to hit Astador with a knife, Thankfully for Eagle eye of Astador, he saw the knife before impact, grabbed his Arm and disarmed him. Another situation when death almost looked into his eyes. Caravan leader will not be glad.

[User]
His coffers more noticeably empty than usual Kormac was travelling in rural Bravado rather than his usual haunt of the Meche countryside. He sets up camp in a field outside of town, paying the farmer for the land with the last of his coppers. He sets up his mobile tavern with lamps illuminating the field to dispel darkness and several small boxes loaned from the farmhouse as makeshift tables.

Once done with his preparation he takes a small bundle of flyers into the town. Written upon it the name of several choice craft ales unlikely to have made it through the parts. For those peasants unable to read he also has scribbled a small map showing the way to his encampment. Though before he gives them out he makes his way first to the local tavern, hoping to enter a partnership for his short stay rather than conflicting with local business. His club is hidden under his long coat, he doesn't intend to use it.

[Assistant]
It was a lovely day in Bravado. Clear skies, a nice cool breeze, and a lack of warmth in the sun which gave the air that perfect crisp coldness to it. Velethuil smiled to himself, seeing a lonely young woman sitting on a bench. Grabbing a handful of flowers from the passing garden, he offered them to her. Face lighting up, she took the flowers gently, nodding her appreciation to the man. In doing so, however, placing her in his debt. Something to cash in on later, he thought, merrily.

"Enjoying yourself, Faerie?" With the bitter tone coming from behind, he caught sight of four cloaked figures in dark, earthy brown leather armour. Velethuil had seen their kind before. Hunters.

Continuing to walk, he allowed the smile to widen. "Why, yes. The skies are blue, the air is cool, and the people are stupid. What more can one ask for-"

The tip of a crossbow bolt glinted in the sun as one of the figures drew the weapon from underneath his cloak. With a small chuckle, the Fae spun on his heel, and clicked his fingers. A blast of frigid air burst from the ground beneath their feet, covering the street in a fine mist. Velethuil ducked into a nearby alleyway, and his form melted away with Faerie Glamour, leaving a woman in his place. The same ice-blue hair, now in a bob cut, and a dark blue and black dress reaching down to her knees. Stumbling through the cloud, coughing and spluttering, she fell into the arms of a hunter, also in a coughing fit.

The man looked bewildered. "Did you see where he went, girl?" Seemingly unable to speak, being robbed of breath from the ice-cold air, she could only nod and point to the alley. Taking off with a great deal of enthusiasm, the four hunters vanished. Velethuil promptly stopped coughing, and wandered down the street from the way he had come, not yet undoing the glamour. Instead, the woman's form simply pulled the jacket in hand on over her shoulders and sauntered down the street.

The skies are blue, the air is cool.

The people are stupid.

Let them chase hearsay and rumours for a while, he thought. Passing the girl, still sitting on the bench clasping the flowers tightly to her chest, Velethuil smiled at her again. To the woman, he was an entirely different person this time around. I have a banquet to attend.

[User]
"Oh wow that sounds...dangerous,Glad you are here with the living" The barmaid smiled handing him the somewhat heavy mead filled glass."So does the king have any other orders for ya?Don't want to see a scratch on that pretty face of yours" She said flirting with him now attending to another patron who was flirting with her but she ignored it.

The murmurs were getting a bit louder with another rumor of the mute warrior murdering a hundred Escucdo warriors.

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

Xavier was riding his horse down the long dirt road wanting to have people stare at him with their eyes,Noticing a caravan it was empty and he wanted to buy some items. Dismounting off his horse bringing the horse with him looking into the empty trailer wondering if anyone was inside.Tapping on the wooden panel of the trailer with his armored hand letting out a soft child like moan since he couldn't speak.

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

-cell

The banquet would be at a noble's house named Lavquie who along with the other nobles would be discuses what they would be doing to deal with the rising criminal actions in the town.

[Assistant] Alexander laughed a bit and nodded. "It wasn't all that bad." He said, rubbing a claw wound on his shoulder. He smirked as she heard the flirt from the beautiful barmaid. "I have one more task...to talk to him later for a special task. Not sure what it is." He said, watching her move across the tavern and serve people.

[User] Once she was done serving the patrons of the bar she came back to Alexander taking care of the bar while her boss Cad was serving patrons drinks."Weird im sure it's to take care of a giant rat or something" Jane smiled to the other man.She took a quick break for their conversation to serve a patron obviously drunk another drink while trying to grope Jane who would have none of that.

[Assistant]
Approaching the opulent palace, it was truly a sight to behold. After freshening up after the hi-jinks of earlier - and finally undoing the glamour - Velethuil strode along to Lavquie's abode. The guards checked the list before waving him in. If the outside was impressive, then the inside stole the words from even his mouth. Golden chandeliers, elaborate jeweled sculptures and lavish fabrics covered every nook and cranny of the expansive room. Servants wandered around offering guests hors d'oeuvres and wine. A passing girl held the tray in Velethuil's direction, who politely refused. Being a Fae and all, the small bag at his side held a selection of wines and food brought from home.

As the night drew on and the guests became steadily more drunk, everyone was seated around a large mahogany table, with Lavquie at the head. Tonight was about some kind of crime wave sweeping the city. The topic didn't interest him all that much, but it was a nice way to pass the time. Food of all shapes and sizes were brought out onto the table as a plethora of wondrous smells filled the air. Sending a small token of appreciation to this evening's host meant that partaking in the meal would balance the deal fairly. Velethuil didn't mind, though, as it looked delicious.

[User]
-cell

During the course of the parties they were rumors of a solider that had a high price on his head and another rumor of a woman in Bravado that was the cardinal's lover and was part of The Holy Order Of St.Jerika. Later into the night Velethuil could see his a woman wearing a golden dress and looked beautiful.

"Hello...i am sorry to bother you milord but i was wondering if you wanted to dance?" She asked him with a smile,The music form the musician group was getting louder and more vibrate.

[Assistant] Alexander laughed yet again from the banter they exchanged. "Probably." He said. He looked at her go deal with some patrons. He stood up as he saw the grope and looked at Jane. "Need some help?" He asked, taking a step towards her. Alexander was more relaxed in taverns, but he would glady brawl if necessary.

[User] "Ummm it's no problem...im just havin...we're having some fun so don't worry" The patron said shaking his head now rubbing Jane's upper thigh,"Umm look i don't want any trouble" Jane said to both the Patron and The Alexander.Her face betrayed her looking away form Alex showing that wanted Alex to intervene.

[Assistant]
Gossip was a wonderful thing. Even the smallest piece of information filtered through lips loosened by alcohol could be devastating when used by the right person. One of the reason why gathering like this was always something Velethuil made time for. That and the general misplaced arrogance of the Bravado noblemen and women. Still, one of the more graceful guests had caught his eye. More than that, even, when she had outright approached him and asked to dance. Something the Fae had mastered over countless years. He offering a hand with a sweeping bow.

"I assure you, my dear, it would take far more than that to bother me. Dancing with you would be a pleasure." She took his hand, and the two made their way to the floor, waltzing to the soothing music drifting out from the band.


[System]
Male
Age 31
Appearance
6'2"
Blue eyes
Long neat blonde hair that reaches down to the shoulders.
Bangs can easily cover his face if Felix doesn't keep them pinned to the side.
Felix has a rugged face with scruffy patchy facial hair (constant five o' clock shadow)
Felix wears glasses only for reading, and heavy arch-mage robes.

This is what Felix basically looks like.
I'm
Magician Savant: Felix is well versed in virtually every magic style the Catholic church is aware of. He is a master of both combat and defensive magic, as well has healing magic. Felix has always been exceptional at magic, to the point of even creating his own spell and combat style.
Manaegis: At the age of twenty he created Manaegis, his flagship ability. Manaegis forces latent mana within the user out into a physical manifestation of a bright blue full suit of armor and a weapon. Both the armor and weapon are essentially weightless, but are slightly stronger than steel.
Manalysis: Due to Felix's mastery and large mana reservoir, he has an ability known as manalysis. Manalysis allows Felix to comprehend mana in a way most people cannot. First off, Felix can physically see the auras of other Talents. These auras each have colors unique to the individual's aura. This color has to do with the type of magic the Talent has a mastery in, as well as their personal morality alignment. The size of the aura is directly correspondent to the size of the Talent's mana well. Manalysis also allows him to feel small shifts within mana waves in the air. Nature exudes its own mana waves, which are disrupted by other mana users who have their own magic wave radiation. Felix is able to feel this discrepancy and interpret use it to sense others. He can use this in combat to predict his enemies moves, as well as out of combat to detect mana users. Manalysis while not rare, is very difficult to master to the degree that Felix has.

Felix also has a mastery of spacial magic allowing him to levitate and teleport on a whim.

Felix was born in New York City, New York. When Felix was an infant, the Catholic magi scouts detected a large amount of mana residing within the Felix's household. Knowing about the newborn and the massive reserves of mana held within him, the scouts approached Felix's parents telling them of the situation. Felix's parents, having seen small displays of magic from Felix decided they were not equipped to raise the child and relinquished the custodial rights to the Catholic Church. Throughout his childhood, he studied and lived at the NYC Catholic cathedral. At around the age of sixteen, he showed such prowess and proficiency with magic, that the NYC cathedral had nothing left to teach him, so he was sent off to the Vatican to learn from the best of the best. After studying at the Vatican, it wasn't long before Felix achieved the status of Arch-mage and earned a seat in the inner council. At the age of twenty Felix developed his own magic style, manaegis. After developing this magic style, he was asked to become an instructor at the Vatican and teach others to master the magic style. This is where he resides to this day.

Armor looks essentially like this
But is completely smooth without bolt marks and bumps, and is also a bit transparent as well with a blue ethereal glow.
The weapon looks like this
but completely blue with the same transparency and ethereal glow as the armor

Felix is headstrong, intelligent, and very wise (although only 31 years old). Felix does his best to be passive, but has no problem fighting if he deems it necessary. Felix hardly ever gets angry, and when he does it is always justified. Stuck in his ways, he can be a little too headstrong. This resulted in him not leaving the Catholic church until recently, even though he knew some of the problems the organization had. Felix loves music, and is very musical himself. He carries with him at all times a Hoener Marineband Special 20 B♭ harmonica. He knows how to play the harmonica, piano, and guitar. As a professor, he is very instructive, and is a great mentor. Felix is very friendly and tends to think of everyone he meets as a friend. Even when Felix has a problem with someone, he will not hold any ill-will toward them.

[User]
After arriving in a dark spot of a back alley, Nemo began to wander aimlessly throughout New York. He tried to examine what had changed in the years he spent locked up; which was arguably, not that much from first impressions. However he would eventually find that while people weren't quite in hoverboards yet, the inner works of New York had undergone quite a few changes.

Nemo wasn't lying on the note, after taking a tourist brochure he started to cross things off the list throughout the day-including the art shows and food he mentioned earlier. He used the time to gather as much information as he could. Nemo figured his best bet was eavesdropping on anybody with a significant mana pool. As someone who consumes mana for power, it goes without saying that his manalysis was quite advanced. Even developing the ability to track another person's mana trail like a bloodhound.

It wasn't long until Nemo got a lock onto someone. While ordering a bratwurst from a street vendor he noticed somebody with sizable mana pool. He started to tail the man, using his trail to keep track of him from a distance. After a minute the man abruptly turned into an alleyway, causing Nemo to quickly scarf down the rest of his meal and turn into the alley as well. He sensed the man had come to a stop around the corner. Something that would of alerted most people, but Nemo didn't seem to be worried.

When he turned the corner he was met with a scene even he wasn't expecting: Three men. The Talent from before was joined with two Untalent men wearing half masks and hats. One of them brandishing a cane. As soon as Nemo met the gaze of the party, the Talent set off a spell from the ground that quickly spread throughout the whole alley like a wave. It covered the area in a giant semi-transparent bubble that sealed them off from the public. A type of trap spell often used to hide battles from the common folk.

As soon as the spell completed, the man with the cane began to laugh. He stepped forward with a slow clap before addressing Nemo. "You know, I'm really quite surprised. When I heard you got out I thought you'd be gone for good. And yet here you are, walking right into my sights... Looks like it's my lucky day." The man opened, pulling his mask down afterwards.

It didn't take Nemo long to realize what had happened. The Talent was bait for him to run into a Witch Hunter ambush. Nemo gave a small smirk after the first man spoke. "Well, if it isn't the three stooges. Hold your horses there Moe, I'm not here to cause any trouble with you, I'm just trying to find someone today, Raiya Mamushi." He explained.

"Of course you'd be looking for her wouldn't you? You'd be in good company with that treacherous snake. Headed for the Lightning Capital to cut a deal with her huh? Trying to exchange something for her protection?" The man spat back.

"You're close." Nemo retorted.

"No matter, the only place you're headed for is that cell of yours back in Mamertine. That or maybe I'll send you straight to the creator myself." He said, stomping his cane on the cement. It was at that point Nemo realized this wasn't any regular group of Salem hunters, it was a group of ex-Disciples turned Church members. Their small sect served as a special operations group.

"Oh come on boys, don't be like that. I've got somebody who's gonna be really upset if he finds out I killed anyone today." Nemo pleaded.

"So you can't kill us? That should dull your edge quite a bit." The hunter with the cane said with a smirk as he prepared himself.

Nemo's humored attitude and expression seemed to fade after the cane wielder's last response. "No... no, you see that's not what I said. I said he's gonna be upset if he finds out I killed anybody." Nemo interjected. "If nobody sees it... didn't happen." He finished as his head cocked to the side.

---

About seven minutes later Nemo walked out from the alley, spinning the hook of the hunter's cane around his hand while humming a tune to himself. He then launched it into a nearby trash bin. Even though it had gotten dark, that conflict wasn't for nothing. His plan worked out in the end. While talking earlier he heard the leader use the term "Lightning Capital" like it was a location. It took a few tries, but eventually somebody was able to point him to a large Asian district when he brought up the term.

Nemo took a train to the district, knowing he was starting to waste valuable time at this point. After exiting the station he finally got to get a good look at the area; that's when he knew he was lost. Nemo didn't know how to read any of the signs besides some random scattered English words, nor did he have any luck speaking to anybody as well. Most people seemed to be ignoring him. On top of that, this district seemed to be quite developed and prosperous compared to the others. While it might be good for the residents, the increase in size was making Nemo's task even harder.

Nemo was beginning to lose hope until he noticed a lot of faint mana trails leading to the center of the district. As he followed them he began to sense large pools of mana in the distance. While all the food of the ethnic markets and street vendor stands were greatly enticing him, he knew he had blown all of his free time that he could. Nemo figured he was on the right track when things seemed to get increasingly more shady as he got closer to the source of the trails.

Soon enough the source finally came into view: A very large stone building with oriental accents and two blue neon signs. One with Japanese symbols for "Raikyo" And the other with larger English lettering for "Lightning Capital" right below it. Besides the two titles were large flashy lightning bolts. Judging from the loud music blaring out from the building Nemo guessed it was some sort of nightclub.

Nemo adjusted his jacket and made his way for the door. However his sense of accomplishment was quickly taken from him when a rock solid hand pushed him back. Nemo's most formidable enemy yet: The Doorman. He stood a good four inches above Nemo, with slicked back black hair, a black t-shirt and earpiece. Clearly not recognizing Nemo the man simply looked down on him.

"Open Sesame?" Nemo stated to him, hoping he'd catch a break.

The Doorman didn't seem to be amused. He extended his hand to turn him away. "Get the hell outta he-" Was the only thing the man was able to get out before Nemo grabbed his arm and pulled him towards him, knocking him off balance. Nemo then swiftly used his strength and free hand to slam the doorman's head into the stone wall and knock him unconscious.

With that taken care of, he was finally able to enter the club. However what he had done so far was sadly only the easy part.

[Assistant]
The Church Magi appeared surprisingly unfazed by Travis' awkward behavior and showed no signs of caution or hostility when he had unintentionally revealed his charm, something any sane person who knew what it was would definitely not appreciate its presence. In fact, the Magi didn't even acknowledge his nervous query either; though whether that was good or still a bad thing would later be determined. Completely out of left field, the Magi from the Catholic Church - whom now Travis believed to be of a higher rank than originally perceived - actually whistled in positive recognition to his recent endeavor, even calling him a genius for devising a hybrid rune of ancient and modern knowledge. While Travis himself enjoyed compliments and praises, he couldn't help but notice the mage's extraordinary perception and analysis of the scene to even compile such an accurate result of what happened here minutes ago.

However, that was hardly the most shocking part about the Magi. The astounding thing was that he knew Travis' full name. So many questions exploded in Travis' mind like how this Church official knew who he was and how he was located, especially when he gone through the effort of covering his own mana signature and discreetly managing his activities to avoid major suspicion. Eventually his self-question had abruptly ended when the Magi finally revealed himself as Felix Glasius. Travis slowly lowered his arms and attempted to reply back with as much professional composure as he could muster.

"I-I appreciate the kind gesture, Felix. I go by..."

Idiot. he knows who you are, thought Travis as he reminded himself of Felix's apparent wealth of knowledge, "...If I may ask you openly; how do you know who I am - how did you find me here?"


[System]
---

---

Age:unknown

Gender:F

Race:Oni

---

Personality: Rishi, like the many members of her race she likes crushing people with a massive club, moonlit walks on the beach, and drinking gallons upon gallons of alcohol, she likes the simple things and looks to the lighter side of most situations despite how terrible the situation might be. Like many large creatures surrounded by smaller creatures, she has an arrow-proof attitude feeling as if nothing can really hurt her unless it's bigger and stronger than she is. While she seems simple when getting to know her Rishi is really really simple, she doesn't understand the human concept of money or caring for something smaller or helpless and believes that if you leave certain creatures alive they will come back to kill you later if they don't learn they aren't as strong as her or fighting her is useless and will give people an ass-kicking so they can learn it first hand.

History

Rishi's story changes with each time someone asks where she is from, in one story she could say she's from another world and had fallen into a portal to this one while she was in search of gold, alcohol, and out of boredom; in another, she would say that she was birthed by a human mother on a tiny farm not far from the current city that she is allowed into and woke up big with horns one morning; while in yet another, she would say that she was split from her mother and father during a fire and grew up in the wilderness without parents or anyone to take care of her. Her history is mostly all over the place, but she use to deal with a number of Oni that lived in a village, she would usually stay nomadic and wander the lands on her own wielding a number of iron clubs; a path of defeated humans would usually be the trail leading to her cave or the camp she would have set up, most of the humans that survived fighting her call her The Red whirlwind.

The moment the decay started to happen she didn't care about what was going on, nor did she think that the decay would affect her kind in any way, but she was wrong, really wrong. When she went to check on the village of Oni she would frequent a plague rolled in, many were lying in their own sick, unable to move, growing spots along their bodies with some even turning a sickly color, Rishi escaped from the village so she wouldn't get infected with whatever illness that they were blighted with. Back at her cave, Rishi wondered what could've infected, grabbing her favorite clubs, Rishi set out on a journey to find something that would help them.

---

Weapons

* Metal spiked great club
* Studded wooden great club
* Skinny metal great club

Magic

* Oni roar: Rishi lets out a monstrous roar that puts fear in the hearts of true cowards and weeds out stronger and more courageous of people to fight her.
* You're going nowhere: Rishi creates a magical barrier to prevent people from running away from her in the middle of an ass-kicking.

Other

Theme Song:

[User]
Just as the two Seekers had begun to converse, a head peaked out from within the newly occupied home. "I thought I heard someone outside this door, are you new Seekers?", the rest of the man's body came out from behind the door to reveal he was somewhat short compared to Eleanor. His head was balding with grey hairs amongst the black that remained atop his head. A goatee beard had begun to grow out somewhat, most likely due to the state of things here in the city. With prominent ears that flared outwards from his head, one might have mistaken the man for a dwarf at first glance. "Ah but where are my manners. Hello, I am Printh, Scholar Printh. I work with Archivist Hervig in analyzing the knowledge you Seekers bring back to us", there was a nervously excited tone in the scholar's voice as he spoke, his eyes wild as he eyed the two mew arrivals. "Oh forgive me, I forget myself, please come in", Printh pushed open the door before heading inside, bidding his guests to follow.

With haste he began to clear a table as the other scholars hurriedly traversed the home, moving documents to categorized shelves. Once the table was cleared Printh place some chairs around it before bringing forth bread and some dried meat. "Here we are, I do wish I could do better for you but as of now that's the best meal you'll find in Venridge. In fact, I cant remember the last I've had anything other than bread and dried meat...enough of that, tell me, have either of you found anything of note? Sorry, I am beside myself, I never asked your names"

[Assistant]
From the blighted forest limped a lone figure, half a dozen torn and muddy cloaks draped across his body, with his face obscured in the oppressive darkness of his hood. Each step was dreadfully slow as it favored one leg over the other, clearly badly sprained from weeks of travel. Yet the figure persisted without fail as step by step the dead city of Venridge came closer. It was here there would be rest.
Food.
Warmth.

Ironically, for a city so close to death, there would be life.

At the gates he was met with armed guards. Their words were lost to the warlock as he felt their lifeforce practically begging him to take it. It would be so simple to reach out his hand and wrap his fingers across this ones throat. To squeeze the air from his lungs as his vitality was siphoned into Jeggred.
His own hand was halfway to the guards throat when his faltering will stopped the intention.

"You must sign in." The guard proceeded, wary now of tricks from the unstable looking figure. Two more guards were inching closer.

"Nnn..." The words hurt. SO long since he had spoken. Dust in his throat where words should be. In a dry raspy tone he croaked out a soft no before trying to push his way through.

Two guards were quick to grab his arms and pull him to the side roughly, tossing him down. Unable to support his own weight in his weakened state Jeggred fell to the ground and lay still as he struggled for breath.

"Take any and all weapons. Set him in irons."

The superior of the three issued his orders, the others were quick to comply. Clearly familiar with brushing down potential desperate hostiles on the verge of violence they were trained to disarm them before an event could occur.
In his weakened state, Jeggred couldn't even warn them. The blade on his back was a prison cell itself. Instead of physical bars of steel in locked the souls of foolish wielders in its multi-faceted gemstones glittering on the guard. The first guard grasped the sword for a mere moment before his screams echoed across the city, falling to the ground thrashing as he tried to let go of the blade. Flesh turned pale at an alarming rate as the other guards reacted swiftly, if confused.

The senior captain was hasty. Sloppy. His own sword struck Lightsbane out of the aged guards hands onto the ground to slide at Jeggreds side. Greedily he took the blade by the hilt and felt the fresh vitality of life dwelling in the sword and drank deeply. Eyes wide with the thrill of the healing waves washing over his sore body it felt like he was twenty again.
With power to spare.

The souls of humans were rich with power, strength only those trained could harness. As he did so now.

A sigh of pleasure punctuated his revitalization as Jeggred returned to his feet. Still favoring one over the other, the limp was not nearly as noticable. Even his posture had changed to a more defensive hunch with the blade waving infront of him.

"Do not.. touch.... OR SOuls... GONE! GONE!" The words came quickly, tumbling from his tongue oozing with fear. Not for himself but for the others. "No. NO! YOu cannot, will not.." Hunched and coughing he felt the magic already fading. "Must help. Darkness. Shriveling. IT COMES TO you ALL. YOU. YOU, ME, HER, ALL."

The voices in his head shrieked their nonsense as he visibly struggled to stay steady.

"Take me. Now. YOur master. I serve.."

The blade lowered until the tip rubbed against the stones at his feet while he panted heavily. The guard who had touched the blade was pale and motionless but breathing, a great deal of his vitality sapped when caught unaware. It would be days before they recovered but recover they would.

"I serve." He whispered again, glancing all around him.


[System]
Personality
Alignment: Neutral
Positive personality Traits: Efficient, Stable, Intelligent, Dedicated, Dependable.
Negative Personality Traits: Ruthless, Stubborn, Predictable, Arrogant, Judgemental.

Rasteva's imposing stature, and rather terrifying appearance cause people to be wary of them at best. At worst they presume them to be nothing more than a monstrosity bent on harming anyone crossing their path. Such reactions are not new to Rasteva and they have grown indifferent to them throughout their existence, making no effort to correct anyone on the matter unless it absolutely conflicts with their personal interests and existence. Rasteva will not be found helping others without being sure that they will receive what they consider a sufficient reward in return. Doing good for the sake of good is not something they will be found engaging in, and concepts such as valor and honor are of no interest to them. Rasteva only ever adheres to the laws of a given territory, not because it is the right thing to do, but because it will simply save them trouble to do so at all. The only upside to this is that Rasteva is equally uninterested in doing Evil for the sake of Evil, and makes no direct effort to go out of their way to harm others unless they feel particularly threatened, They can and will however engage in acts of evil should they find it to be most beneficial to their existence and overall goals, whatever they may be at the time.

Despite being unconcerned and indifferent to morality, Rasteva is rather even tempered and polite, often greeting others with a great deal of respect and surprising kindness. Rasteva does enjoy conversation quite a bit, and they are especially fond of gossip and stories even if they prove to be true or not. A self proclaimed collector of knowledge, Rasteva has spent countless millennia of existence travelling and absorbing as much as they possibly can. This is possibly the single most glaring loophole in their indifference as Rasteva will gladly assist someone in a given task in exchange for something previously unknown. This insatiable hunger for knowledge is something that Rasteva is unable to ignore and deny, and may very well be their sole reason for existence.

Rasteva is quite confident and self assured as most of their kind tend to be, and rarely, if ever doubts in themselves or their abilities. An exceptionally long existence has granted Rasteva with learning and experience unfathomable by shorter lived races. This of course also comes a high degree of arrogance, though they feel it to be completely deserved as many Supernatural Entities are prone to. This has also led to Rasteva being exceptionally set in their own ways, and changing their opinion on nearly anything is a hard fought battle, and more often than not is a lost cause.

While not prone to starting fights or causing trouble for others, Rasteva can show a terrifying lack of empathy to anyone not deemed an immediate ally. The Daemon can be as ruthless in regular interaction as they are in combat, caring nothing for the motives or ideals of their opponents. Rasteva has no qualms about killing in the slightest, and won't even make excuses for doing so beyond that it was convenient for them to do so at the time. Rasteva will only ever act in a manner that is beneficial to them and their continued existence. To Rasteva the only thing that matters and will always matter is Rasteva. They make no pains to compare the lives of others to their own, as the Daemon's life is the only one worth considering and holds value immeasurable. Good and Evil are the same thing to the Daemon, and as such makes no effort to differentiate between the two. The only things that Rasteva makes any effort to distinguish from each other is things that can be made use of, and things that have no use at all.

Anything found to be wholly useless is cast aside without a second thought.

History/Mythology

Rasteva has existed far longer than many other beings, and has witnessed the rise and fall of civilizations. Their true age is unknown and Rasteva has no interest in knowing what it may be. A traveller like the rest of their kind, Rasteva's existence has been spent wandering their own universe and perhaps even others in an effort to gain as much knowledge as they possibly can, all in an effort to find the core of their individual existence.

Rasteva is a member of supernatural entities referred to as Daemon.Despite sharing a namesake with the more well known Demons of myth and folklore,Daemons are neither inherently good or evil. Their ambiguous nature can leave many that do manage to meet one wary as their true motives are often up for debate. In actuality a Daemon's ambiguity is in reality a 'Default setting' and all of them are driven by an unknown and all consuming impulse to discover their individual nature. Defining it only as a drive to be their "Complete Self", it can range from each Daemon becoming either a complete monster like the Demons they share a namesake with, or beings of complete virtue. From the moment of their conception up until their existence ends altogether, a Daemon's sole drive is to seek out and find the meaning of their own existence.

Daemons can and will meddle in the affairs of Mortals.This can be something as innocuous as choosing an individual to watch and learn about while remaining unperceived, or something a bit less harmless such as making their existence known and giving people portions of their own power to see what happens.

It tends to go about as well as one would expect.

Daemons are incorporeal by nature, and lack true physical forms. The best way to describe a Daemon is not as a living being, but instead as a 'concept', flitting at the edges of realities but never truly making themselves known.Because they most often exist outside of the realities inhabited by mortals Daemons cannot be perceived or even fully comprehended unless they actively choose to be. The closest an individual can come to seeing a Daemon as they are will describe it as noticing a shadow flitting by at the edge of their vision, but will disappear when looked at or even considered fully. This has led to myths considering them to be the wandering spirits of the dead, and rarely divine beings such as Gods.This statement is for the most part false, though some Daemons have been able to achieve near Godlike power through unknown methods. Daemons that choose to manifest in a reality to better observe and interact with mortals are forced to take on a physical form as their existence simply cannot BE without one. Some choose to take the forms of animals, though most will disguise themselves as mortal beings. Some have even been known to take the form of inanimate objects,and each form often coincides with a particular Daemon's goals in whatever reality they've manifested in and their own personal tastes. Daemons mostly adhere to the same laws of physics that other beings do in whatever reality they've found themselves in, and while not capable of feeling pain, they can still be injured, dismantled and killed while in a physical form. A particularly weak Daemon that cannot manifest their own form will often take possession of a random object until they are strong enough to project a form of their own. This is often done out of desperation on the Daemon's part and is often considered to be embarrassing and shameful.

Daemons do not adhere to a particular hierarchy within their society, if they even have a society at all. Daemons that come across each other will recognize another of their kind on sight and they will usually stop to exchange pleasantries and stories of their travels before moving on their way. Daemons do not gather together for any reason outside of chance meetings, and do not actively seek each other out unless they specifically know another of their kind to be nearby and willing to interact with them. Though their species does not possess any lands or holdings to claim heritage to, a Daemon that takes a liking to a particular reality will gladly choose to settle there.

[User]
Rasteva hopped onto the table excitedly as Sara pulled the indicated book from the shelf, looking up to answer her question. "Ah, I do enjoy learning about the world around me. Specifically how it works, what it does, what it CAN do." The Raven turned their eyes back to the book, tapping at a particular chapter with their beak and indicating that they would like for Sar to turn to that particular section. "I do enjoy reading a great deal and I used to travel quite often as well. Wherever there was knowledge to be had, I would be found there." The Daemon eyed the lines of text with interest, hopping side to side as they scanned the book's pages. This was one of Rasteva's many interests. They were not content to simply exist in the world, they wanted an understanding of how they were able to do so at all. Daemons were not like the other creatures found here. And their own world was as much of an enigma as they were. It was for this reason that Rasteva wanted to better understand how two completely different realms were even able to interact. The Daemon paused their reading, looking up at Sara. "I have long wondered over the physical properties of your world. Where I come from we do not have standard Laws of Physics, it is most interesting." The Raven resumed scanning the book's pages, becoming fully engrossed in the words written down. Every so often they would pause and ask Sara to turn the page, but it was apparent that the book did not interest her as much as it did the Daemon. They heard her getting up to leave a little while later, more than likely off to find a book that would hold her attention as much as the Physics book did Rasteva. They couldn't blame her really, this was nothing more than a standard textbook. Only Humans devoted solely to the subject would find any use of it. It was certainly not printed for casual reading.

Rasteva had to settle for turning the pages themselves while Sara was gone. It was difficult at first. They could only grasp hold of the pages to turn over with their beak, all the while taking care to not rip any of them. After several more, they began getting the hang of it. The Daemon could not help but feel a small sense of pride at their accomplishment. Despite all that had happened, they were still finding ways to be self-sufficient even if it was in small ways. Every step that they could take by themselves was a step that Sara would not be required to spend helping them. A sudden crash and a scream drew the Raven's attention and their head snapped up. Students and Faculty alike were rushing out of the Library, though a few stayed to see what the commotion was all about. Rasteva felt a sudden sense of panic and quickly flew towards the crowd, hoping to spot Sara in the chaos.

They found her not far from the scene, helping another student out from a pile of books on the floor. He seemed none the worse for the wear, but some of it may have been in no small part of the Gorilla Daemon holding up the large shelf. Rasteva perched on Sara's shoulder and eyed the man carefully. His words caught the Daemon's interest and they could not help but question him. "I beg your pardon Sir, but what did these people look like? Did they have Daemons as well?"

[Assistant]
Feeling feet on her shoulder, her eyes cast towards Rasteva for a brief moment before returning to the young man in front of her. "Can we even call them that? 'People'? People don't act like that. They don't try pushing a bookshelf on others!" Frowning, he calmed himself for a brief moment before giving his Daemon a quick embrace, thanking them for helping. "They're pretty hard to miss most times, unless they've pressured other students into doing their dirty work..They usually sport a black t-shirt and jeans. They stick out, but not by their clothes. You'd be hard-pressed to find them normally." He sighed. "I don't even know what I even did to catch their attention.." Looking towards his Daemon, he groaned. "It might just be because of the strength my Daemon has. Granted, we haven't done too many fights, they're just naturally inclined that way." The description wouldn't help too much, as far as trying to catch who did it...but they would be in numbers, hopefully.

After making sure a faculty member was taking the boy to the nurse's office, some other students got the books back onto the shelves. Grabbing the ones she was interested in again, she made her way back towards the table from before, sitting down. "Sorry for the disturbance." She rubbed the back of her neck. "This just has me more on edge. Who pushes a bookshelf on someone? Were they even targeting a specific person, or just a group hoping to catch the slowest one, like in the wild?" Sara asked, looking worried at the table, since Rasteva was on her shoulder. "I don't even know what advice to give you if we are attacked, Rasteva. We can't really fight very well...you might do best to try to head off or something."

She wasn't really thinking clearly, her brain still in a slight panic over the events that transpired. Rasteva certainly wasn't naturally strong - but...they did like to gain knowledge. Maybe they could try just learning about this group? Would it matter? Should she ask Rasteva to look over most situations that caused for people to suffer at the hands of the Purgers? Would that help them try to avoid, or even help discourage the attacks if they could even have an idea of what to look for? Running a hand through her hair, she gave a heavy sigh. "Do you think it feasible to gather intel on their attacks? Everything has some sort of pattern, right?"


[System]
Age: 21
Bio:
* Was initially catatonic when she was found, barely responding even after being treated. Apparently the only thing she used to do was weep at night, but she has little memory of this happening. Eventually she would follow instructions and generally react to the adults speaking to her, but wouldn't speak. Once she did come out of her shell, her strong personality clashed with the other children, often expecting them to bend to her will without question.
* Her earliest memory comes from getting hit by a ball, having been taken on a walk by one of the workers. Despite getting hit in the face, she apparently laughed it off, letting go of the worker's hand to go play with the other children.
* She was particularly attached to another orphan by the name of Grisha, a dark haired boy. Often chasing him around (much to his irritation), she was particularly apologetic to him, though when asked why he wouldn't leave him alone, she would only reply that she needed to apologize. As for what, no one knew, but Grisha wasn't too happy about it. Fortunately for him, as they got older, she did put a more respectful distance and eventually they got along better. He was one of the boys in a group that ended up getting indoctrinated some years down the line.
* One of the caretakers, an older woman by the name of Natasha, suspected Katya may have been nobility by the way she acted. She helped the child transition into a common life, teaching her how to speak to people without being so haughty. She found it rather amusing that despite having no memories, she still acted like a member of a noble family and often indulged her when she could. Instilling good values into the girl to the best of her ability, she is the reason why Katya works to get what she wants, having taught her that if you wanted something you had to get out there and take it for yourself. Sadly she passed away when Katya was a teenager of old age.
* Katya has an unexplainable desire to find someone; she wants to think that it is her family, but she feels it is not the case. She does not know who it is nor does she have any idea why, only 'feeling' it and figuring she would know when she would find them. She rarely brings it up, realizing it is an impossible task and one unlikely to happen. The one thing she wants more than anything is to find this person and apologize, though she doesn't even know why or what she did.
* Has sold her hair twice; the first time she was outright approached as a child, and despite not quite understanding why the man had wanted her hair, she obliged. Natasha wasn't too happy when Katya returned to the orphanage with a shaved head, though her heavy pockets let her know that this was a great way to make money. The second time was after Natasha's death, and was Katya's first step into working towards her goal.

Natasha Alexeev - Primary caretaker, she oversaw much of the operations of the orphanage Katya grew up in. She assumed Katya to be nobility by the clothing she wore, ordering the other caretakers to hide her once the Bolsheviks came searching for any runaway royalty. Despite the girl having no memory of who she was, her strong personality caused adult and child alike to reject her. Taking pity, Natasha raised her the best she could, teaching her how to better socialize. When Katya mentioned wanting to work, she was initially concerned the girl's naivete would cause her to get taken advantage of. Before she passed away, she left her entire set of jewelry to Katya, including a pair of silver earrings (ones she wore often) and a pair of valuable sapphire earrings.

Grisha Dobrow - A young boy who was placed in the orphanage by his father after his mother passed away. His father returned for him when he was 16, and drafted several other boys his age to be indoctrined into the Bolsehvik army. He has grown into a hardened soldier and learned the truth of the siege, believing that it was a necessary evil despite the lives lost. He doesn't believe the rumor going around about the survival of the last Romanov, but looks to dispel it as quickly as possible, only lamenting that an innocent soul has to be taken in exchange.

Yana and Lev - A pair of inseparable boys, the mischievous Lev always had a follower in Yana. He was best friends with Grisha, though he would often butt heads with Katya over her clinginess to him. Lev has grown crueler over the years, with Yana following dutifully, even as he quietly questions the things happening in their country as well as his friends' sanity.
Age 9 - Catatonic for two months, slowly starts to come out of her shell, amnesia apparent

Age 10 - Her attachment to Grisha is apparent, much to the boy's annoyance

Age 11 - While out in the street, a man makes a comment on how much someone would pay for her hair. Katya sells it and gives the money to Natasha, who is none too pleased.

Age 15 - The boys are adopted by a soldier. Grisha and Katya promise to reunite someday.

Age 16 - Natasha passes away. Katya shaves her head and starts working in hopes of getting a ticket out of Russia.

Age 21 - Finally gets enough money for her ticket to Paris. [RP Start]

[User]
Jesus, she was chatty. Feliks had been expecting some simple, unrevealing "I'm an orphan" answer, not a life story. Not to mention the sickening optimism. He would have envied her her naivete if he didn't think it was so foolish. Of course, as he listened, admittedly intrigued by Katya's memory loss, his mind couldn't help but wander to the possibility…

"A lot of children were lost in the siege," he said absently, eyes on the fire. Nearly frozen to death in an alley, huh? He supposed he could relate, though his circumstances immediately after the siege had also involved a pile of corpses and a gunshot wound.

There was a silence between them for a moment, Feliks turning his options over in his mind. He knew it was foolish, and impossible, but he simply couldn't keep Katya's eerie resemblance to Katerina from his mind. But Katerina was dead, he was sure of it. So why did he keep wondering if it was possible?

He supposed the ten million rubles might be part of it.

But it was ridiculous! What, was he meant to believe that God happened to smile upon him today, inform him of the reward offered by the Dowager Empress and then just drop a reincarnated Katerina in his lap? Preposterous. She was dead, long dead, along with the rest of the Vasilievs. Along with his mother, and every other innocent soul the Bolsheviks thought deserved to die that night. That reward was just the last remnant of desperate hope from a heartsick old woman in Paris.

"...I'll see about those papers," Feliks said finally, grasping the arm of the chair by the fire and using it to hoist himself painfully back to his feet. He clenched his jaw with the effort, but held in his usual groan, not one to complain around company. Already stiff from having been kneeling, his limp was a bit more pronounced than normal as he made his way over to his shelf, pulling out a folder and flipping through some delicate-looking documents within. Feliks stared intently at them, thinking. She needed a permanent exit visa to Paris, fine, but that meant she needed a passport to attach it to, which meant she needed a picture and a full name, information on her date and place of birth, occupation, marital status, all manner of overbearing government-required personal details. From someone who remembered none of it. Excellent.

They were just going to have to get creative.

He fingered through some other documents on his shelf, grateful to find a blank copy of a passport document ready to go. "I'll need some more information from you - we might need to fabricate a lot of it - and you'll need to get your picture taken," he explained, not looking over. He pulled a few more things from the shelf and crossed over to the document-strewn table, sitting gratefully at it. "I know someone who can do that for you, though he doesn't work for free. Once that's done, I can have your documents completed in about a day."

Finally he looked up, over his shoulder at the girl by the fire. "Are you living nearby? You won't want to go too far."

[Assistant]
Feliks' silence was a little concerning, but he wasn't calling her crazy, so that was a step in the right direction. As the silence stretched between them, she made sure to follow his lead and stay quiet as well. Not that she was complaining, it wasn't uncomfortable, he was probably just as focused as she was on warming up. The blonde was greatly enjoying the break from the cold with a forlorn sigh of happiness. She had half a mind to curl up on the floor and sleep, the idea of having a warm nap greatly enticing the woman as she hugged her knees. If she caught on fire, so be it, at least she would die warm and not frozen.

Once he would speak, Katya perked up with hopeful eyes. Maybe this meant she would be leaving sooner rather than later! She stayed where she was, turning to watch as he would make his way over to the shelf, curious to see what he was doing. Not that she knew; she had no idea how he would go about giving her the paperwork needed, but she wasn't going to question it. The less she knew, the better, anyway.

At his comment of having to fabricate the information, she gave him a shrug. Not like she had much choice; she didn't know anything, anyway, so it was best to do as he said. She did, however, brighten up immensely as he mentioned he would be able to have everything ready in a day. He was fast! She nodded enthusiastically, though she hesitated as he mentioned the picture-taker-man wouldn't take it for free. Well, she did anticipate this costing her something, so hopefully it wouldn't set her back too much.

"I usually spend the day doing odd jobs, but I can just stay here for today if it's easier for you," Katya said, her eyes wandering once again around the unfamiliar room. Actually, as long as she was here, she wouldn't mind exploring the place. "I'm going to take a look around the place." She wasn't entirely sure why she was even telling him, but the room alone wasn't enough to satiate her curiosity, her now-warmed legs energetic enough to at least take a peek back the way they had come.

[User]
"Have at it," Felikes replied unenthusiastically, looking back down at the table and moving to clear some of the clutter away. Good, she'd get out of his hair for a while. Good thing too, he needed to focus. It was lucky that he had a blank passport ready, but his forged visa stamp had seen better days - precisely the reason he had gone to the stationery. He needed to carve a new one, and it would take up the bulk of the day's estimate he'd given Katya to do. It had to be perfect, after all; he inwardly groaned at the prospect, already dreading hours of testing and tweaking that lay ahead of him.

"Oh, word of warning," he mentioned before Katya was gone, "The building isn't always stable. And I can't finish this until you get your picture taken, so make sure you come back and get the photographer's address before you leave. And try not to get lost." There was more boredom in his voice than actual concern, and he barely looked up from unpacking his purchases. But it was an important warning nonetheless; he wasn't a complete jackass, and he also didn't want to lose a paying customer. Besides, he didn't need to come across a corpse on his way through the place anytime soon.

[Assistant]
"No promises on that last one," Katya replied rather cheekily, giving Feliks a rather lazy wave once she was sure he wouldn't say anything else.

The warning was probably appreciated, but she figured exploring was better than sitting there watching. The palace had this allure about it, a forbidden place that she had always wanted to unravel, to see why it was always off-limits. Nothing in particular seemed to stand out as she traversed the hall, the previous sadness of seeing the place in shambles returning as she looked around. In its day, everything was probably sparkling, filled with light and bustling with people. The brown carpets were probably red at one point, her muffled footsteps being the only thing that accompanied her through the halls.

The cold returned the further she went, though it still wasn't as bad as it was outside, thankfully. Katya walked comfortably, her pace slow as she looked around for...something. Her lips curved into a frown as that thought crossed her mind, wondering why it even came to mind. Being here was becoming confusing, stirring some odd feelings within her. Maybe she was the daughter of a servant? Well, they had executed anyone associated with the royal family, so she could understand why she was forbidden to approach the palace. But that didn't seem right, like she was missing something.

Turning the corner into another hall, the faded architecture suddenly improved. Still in shambles, but the quality shifted even in its disarray. As she looked back to where she came from, she wondered if maybe she had come from the servants' quarters. So if she kept going, she'd reach where the royal family lived. The realization didn't sit too well with her, azure eyes darting around for something as an unfamiliar anxiety popped up.

Go! Get out of here!

Clearing her head of that thought, she ignored that odd feeling as she continued onwards through the hall. It opened to what looked like what could have been a grand ballroom. It was huge and empty, the windows barely hanging onto the hinges as the wind threatened to further crack the glass. A large tapestry had managed to hang onto the wall, albeit in disarray with a majority of it having been stabbed or torn. There was a rather thick layer of dust on the floor and on what little furniture remained; there was no reason to be here, nor did it have anything to offer. Disappointing, but what was she expecting? The palace had been abandoned for years, it was surprising that Feliks had chosen to take refuge here, anyway.

Deciding that she should probably stop wasting her time, Katya turned back to go the way she came, stopping before the tapestry. Two adults, one man and one woman, were surrounded by five children, four girls and one boy. The man's face had been left a mystery, the area surrounded his head having been torn to shreds, though it chilled her to see that the tears didn't look as old as they should have. Part of the woman's face had been obscured as a result, though the children's faces were mostly intact. Their hair colors were all on the lighter side, with the youngest girl's locks being a bright blonde color and the oldest girl sporting a sandy color.

Katya couldn't stop looking at the tapestry, her hand gently touching it. Her heart was racing in her chest, eyes glued to the oldest girl. Why?


[System]
Gender: Female

Age: 21

Career/Class: Courtesan/Duelist

Physical Description: Camilla is a medium sized woman around 5'5. She possess the slightly bronzed skin, angular features and dark hair common among Tileans. She has the smooth clean lines of a classical statue and the lean musculature of a dancer. Every part of her seems artfully contrived, as though she stepped from the canvas of a master painter. Camilla moves with deliberate grace which is appropriate to her profession.

Mental Description/Personality: Camilla is a fiery impetuous young woman. As a child she was selected from among orphan's for her physical beauty and raised to fill the role of Courtesan in the decadent courts of her native Tilea. Among her studies were poetry, dance, repartee, song, politics, literature, art and sword play.

Camilla is out of place in rough and dangerous situations, and although naturally adventurous and curious about the world she is no heroine. She has a fiery temper and has a tendency to act rather than to wait if given the chance. While technically trained with the sword, Camilla's education is that of the stylized art of the sword rather than the rough and brutal style of real combat, while she is perfectly comfortable fighting a duel to the tough for the entertainment of a crowd, she had little experience with real killing.

Camilla has a passing devotion to Randald and Shyalla, although she tends to focus on the world in front of her rather than the world beyond.

[User]
Amal was no stranger to tombs. He had plundered them before, back when there had been a city wide search for him in Al-Hiekk. But most of them had open entrances one could find if they were clever enough, and whenever he found himself against something otherworldly, he had the good sense to flee from whence he came. That caution, however, fled when he saw the emeralds the size of small apples embedded in the beautiful woman's eyes.

Emmaline saw the hunger in Amal's eyes after a moment, and shook her head emphatically. The thief had looked as if he was about to scale the statue and pry them out with his dagger. The thought had certainly crossed his mind...

"You're right," he sighed, clearly annoyed at the misfortune of seeing a jewel he couldn't take. There would have to be consequences, yes? That was how all of the tales worked. There was also the small detail Amal, and Emmaline likely, knew of. Asaph was also the goddess of vengeance. Amal had enough bad luck at the moment. He wouldn't stir the wrath of an ancient pagan deity. Not without good cause at least, he thought as he gazed at the emeralds.

"Is there no way to close the entrance to outsiders?" Amal asked, hoping they could at least protect themselves from the bandits. His lovely companion shook her head, explaining that even if there was, there was no gauruntee of opening it again later. Amal cursed in Arabyan, and decided he needed to be pragmatic in a different way. If they couldn't escape readily, they might as well start to get in Asaph's good graces.

He nimbly leaped over the sunken pool, Emmaline watching as he casually made a jump most men would be fearful of. Landing easily, he made his way over to the simple stone altar, a square with the carving of a Cobra on its head. Amal tried to press down on it, but there was no pressure point under it. After a moment, he decided to beseech Asaph, giving a prayer to the Goddess with a dramatic air so as to draw her attention.

Nothing happened as he invoked her name, Emmaline approaching with her lit coin to provide light on if they missed anything. The stone around the large, odd statue looked as if it might be a door, perhaps. But it still looked solid enough to not budge, and Amal felt it was fruitless. "We are getting nowhere with this. We-..." he stopped, his eyes falling onto the coin. Inching his hand forward, he asked Emmaline. "May I?"

Questionably, she gave him the coin. He gingerly let it drop onto his palm, gripping it so the entire chamber was now pitch black. Whispering, he invoked her name once more, and opening his palm to bathe the room in light again, he dropped it atop the central altar. There was a loud thud, as if the coin weighed ten times it's normal amount, and the light was sucked out of the coin instantly. Amal stepped back, guarding Emmaline until the emerald of the statue shined like beacons in the darkness, lighting the entire room up.

As the room was filled with light, eerily there was now clear, pristine water in the pool they had passed. Amal shrugged, giving Emmaline a handsome smile. "I think all she needed was a little magic." he explained, but the moment of debonairness dissipated as a shout was heard down the corridor, and something heavy dropped against stone. They needed to act, and quickly. As the northern woman said, there was no way out. What to do...

Amal grabbed the rope he had kept coiled around his arm. "Pray to your Sigmah, or whoever it is. Your Renald? Either way." He remarked, and tossed a length of the rope around one of the pillars, having the majority of the rope clinging to his midsection. "Tie yourself to me and hold onto me."

"What?"

"Do it, golden one!" he snapped, referring to her hair. She did so immediately, realizing he had a plan that would likely help keep them alive, though it seemed like a longshot in such dire straits. Once she was tightly pressed to him, he began to climb the snake-like pillar, using the rope to help keep him steady and to use the friction to keep them stable. Up and up Amal went, his hard muscles like marble beneath Emmaline's hands.

"Do you know what you're doing?" She asked.

"If I know thieves," Amal whispered. "And I do. These men will not be able to help themselves..." As the scene below unfolded.

[Assistant]
"Come out come out where ever you hide!," a brutish voice called as torchlight cast harsh shadows down the entrance passage. Emmaline opened her mouth to scream but Amal's hand clamped over her mouth. A moment later a brutal looking bandit with an eye patch stepped into the chamber below them. In one hand he clutched a scimitar and in the other a burning torch. The camel they had led into the chamber snorted nervously as several more bandits spilled into the room.

"Hand her over boy, we will give you some of the gold we sell her for and let you keep your balls," the bandit went on in a wheedling tone.

"By Allah's beard," one of his underlings exclaimed as torch light played across the facets of the emeralds in the statues eyes, making them glint and shimmer. There was a collective intake of breath as the bandits realised the value of the stones and then a general disorganized rush towards the statue.

"We should run," Emmaline whispered urgently as the boot falls of the freebooters covered her words.

"There might be more outside," Amal conseled, "let us wait a moment more."

The bandits realised the stones were too high to reach and began dragging one of the heavy ceramic amphorae closer to the statue to use as a step. As the lip of it bumped the statue Emmaline felt a stirring of magic both ancient and powerful.

"Let us go," Amal hissed urgently, but Emmaline couldn't move, only stare transfixed at the unfolding scene. The one eyed bandit climbed up onto the amphora and, at full extension pressed his knife into the statues eye socket, preparatory to removing it. There was a sudden howling wind that seemed to carry with it not only the dry heat of the desert but the distant and perfumed reek of southern jungles. An arm burst from the statue in a shower of rock dust and seized the bandit by the neck. Emmaline realised in horrified fascination that it wasn't an arm inside the statue, it was the statue itself, cracks ran down the limestone facing and the avatar of Asaph stepped free. The things body was composed of carved ivory and gold above the waist and interlocking plates of jade to form its serpentine lower quarters. The bandits fled screaming before the avatar but Asaph, it seemed, was no merciful goddess. The avatar crushed the bandit in her grip with a negligent gesture, the tomb echoing with the crack of the man's ribs before pitching like a missile at the remainder, driving them to a ground in a sprawl. With a seductive swish of her hips that echoed mesmerizingly through her tail she closed the distance and fell on the survivors, each hand jerking a long silvery blade from what had appeared to be carven sheaths.

[User]
Amal watched, entranced at the spectacle for a brief moment. The serpentine seductress hacked off limbs and lashed out with her stone tail with the moves of a belly dancer, breaking legs with each twist of her lower half. She almost looked to toy with the men she hadn't killed in a manner that made Amal believe the statue was almost sapient. He wasn't certain if it had ears, but he would take no chance and he silently lowered himself and Emmaline, quietly bouncing off the pillar like a mountain climber lowering himself. Emmaline pressed her face into the back of Amal's thick head of hair so she wouldn't scream as he pushed off the pillar thrice until they made it to the ground.

"There's no way out," Emmaline whispered.

Amal placed a finger to her lips and nodded in the direction of where the statue had been. The ethereal lights within the chamber betrayed the location of a tunnel. Amal didn't know about his new companion, but a cutthroat's existence was about improvisation. Another door opens? You take it and hope you amuse Allah or whatever other God enough to curry their favor.

As they made their way across the room, they noticed snakes began to pour out of small holes in the stonework. Adders, Black Mambas, Cobras, and the like slithered into view and fell lazily to the floor if they were higher up, some simply gazing out at the two from their high perches as if it was a curiosity to see them die. Amal ignored them, his adrenaline pumping, keeping ahold of Emmaline's rope as they hadn't had much time to untie themselves.

The tunnel was lit only by the light that permeated the chamber, and it fed into a small cavern that widened into a great chamber of naturally carved rock, and they could hear the running water before they could see it. A small walkway made of marble, framed by terrifying figures of women with hair and fangs like Cobras, led toward's an ancient dock. Even Amal made a small gasp of relief when he saw the sight of the river, and a boat still within it.

He was suspicious of the statues, but luckily none of them came to life as they passed. They need only figure out how to leave, for the small oaken boat was not tied down, but fixed in its position by an ornate brass pole, carved in the likeness of a Cobra, small rubies placed in its eye sockets. He could focus on the jewelry once they escaped, but for now he placed his thieving hands on the staff and pulled to free the boat as Emmaline hopped in.

The Staff couldn't, wouldn't budge. Hard muscles from years of climbing and fighting grew prominent, but with all of his strength he couldn't move the staff. It was then when a great silhouette filled the chamber, and they both looked up to see the Guardian of Asaph, her swords and hips dripping in blood, appear at the entrance. She paused for but a moment, and then with blinding speed she charged their position.

Amal took up his Shamshir and held it aloft in a brave show to attempt to ward off what was coming, and with a last desperation, Emmaline grabbed at the staff, only for it to simply pop out of the water. The woman stumbled back into Amal and they both hit the floor of the small boat. No one had pushed off, however, and the thing was nearly upon them, was upon them! Emmaline held the Cobra Staff up at a vain attempt to guard a falling Scimitar...only for the blow to never come.

As the small boat floated deeper into the current, they saw the Guardian, once poised to strike, shrinking back from the Staff as if it were a stone wall. Amal looked between Emmaline holding the thing, and the Guardian, and then he simply let out a relieved laugh that echoed across the cavern. "Asaph favors a beauty with magic!" he exclaimed. "Particularly one with blood on her hands." Amal helped himself and Emmaline up from their fall, and he gave her a grin that showed his teeth. "Asaph and I seem to have similar tastes."

Any continuation of the shameless conversation was blocked out as the boat was suddenly swallowed up by a lightless cavern, and they were whisked off to Allah knows where into the mountains...

[Assistant]
"Can't you make another light?" Amal asked as they were swept off into the darkness.

"I don't have any more money," Emmaline admitted, then much to her own surprise, she started to laugh and Amal joined her the pair of them roaring with the mirth of recent death narrowly averted. Amal squeezed her hand and she squeezed back

"What about the staff," he asked. Emmaline gripped the golden staff, she could feel the magic pulsing inside the thing, though she had no idea for the moment what it did. Adding her own spell to the enchanted metal could have a variety of effects, ranging from bad to disastrously bad. She opened her mouth to tell Amal this and then a sound reached her ears. Water rushing over rocks. Amal didn't react but then he had lived his life in an arrid landscape where water was rare. He hadn't heard the roar of Riechbach falls, or seen the mighty Tablec tumble from its headwaters.

"Waterfall!" she yelled, "Grab hold of something!" The boat picked up speed suddenly and the roar swelled to a crescendo. Spray flicked up over her face and she grabbed hold of the boat desperately. With a horrifying lurch, the boat plunged into the darkness and water poured over them soaking them both as they plunged into blackness.

Emmaline opened her eyes and rolled over onto her back. It was still pitch black but she could feel water lapping at her ankles. Her entire body arched and throbbed. Her hand still clutched the staff in a grip that would have whitened her knuckles if she were able to see. Gathering her will she spoke the words of a spell, drawing miniature flecks of iron from the sand around her into a ball of metal that burst into a soft silver glow. Amal was sitting up beside her her rubbing his eyes and their boat lay in splintered ruins upon an underground beach. A dark passage ran from the top of the beach, eaten away perhaps by ancient flows of water.

"You… sure know how to show a girl a good time," she muttered.