[System]
E I L E E N /// T E S S A

"They say if you bring science into a fantasy setting, God kills a catgirl. I hate catgirls."

O V E R V I E W
A V A T A R

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Ailanthus Altissima

A G E

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32

G E N D E R

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Female

V I S A G E

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Under a dark suit of magical armor is the small, frail frame of Ailanthus Altissima. Though she could have been her ideal self, her PARIAH appearance is (other than being free of blemishes) unremarkable, normal, and bland. That is how she sees herself. She appears slightly younger than she actually is because society reminds her constantly that she hasn't matured because she's not married and still plays games. Her glasses form a very core part of her identity and followed her into PARIAH. When out of armor, she wears a white robe that acts as a closest approximation to a lab coat. She has no desire to 'stay in-character' or preserve 'immersion' for others, intentionally commissioning crafters to make her scientific- and futuristic-looking gear.

Below is her face, 90% of the time:

P E R S O N A L I T Y

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Tessa is a single, middle-aged woman whose work- and social-life has her stressed to breaking point, causing her to indulge in escapist behavior with the aid of electronic media. In some circles, she might be called an 'otaku', which would be true; while others might call her a 'fujoshi', which would be technically incorrect. High-strung and irritable, Tessa has difficulty keeping her stress from flowing into her leisure activities, and is often accused of 'spoiling the mood'. Some question why she even plays games as she has a tendency to become frustrated easily, a trait that stems from performance anxiety.

Though Tessa has difficulty enjoying a game if things don't go her way, she is addicted to the rush of things going right. Despite her thorny and at-times belligerent behavior, Tessa has a deep sense of responsibility, a need to not only pull her own weight, but to go above and beyond. However, she not only holds herself to this level of perfectionism, she expects the same from anyone unfortunate enough to be her teammate.

B A C K G R O U N D

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Urban China was all Eileen ever knew, from the robotic and highly-competitive educational system to the robotic and highly-competitive high-tech industrial work environment. She never stood out when it came to academic excellence, but she did stick her neck out just far enough to warrant being bullied and socially sabotaged by her peers. She went through life with jaded bitterness and social awkwardness.

She retreated daily to social media, illegally downloaded anime, manga, and games, becoming addicted to MMO's in particular. She was known as a rage gamer, logging on alone, joining teams of people she didn't know to participate in dungeons and other party activities. She even attempted forum RP once but only ended up arguing with others, pissing people off, and finally, rage-quitting for good.

Living in the high-tech center of ShenZhen, Eileen is an engineer in a bloated company that produces and sells cheap, barely-functional healthcare devices. Her life is a wreck and she was so caught up in securing her place in the world that her nearer relatives are now suddenly concerned that she will never get married and have kids. Her daily routine has not changed since school: wake up, wash up, commute, attend class/work, commute home, eat, leisure, sleep, repeat.

One day, the company's R&D division wanted to play with the idea of therapeutic VR, and got several PARIAH headsets for the researchers to toy around with. But due to lack of a perceivable market, the project was dropped and the headsets were put in permanent storage. Eileen asked to take one home and the lax inventory manager gave her the OK. She wasn't that interested in VR, but figured she'd give it a go. She figured that the worst that could happen was that she'd lose interest and leave it in a corner to gather dust, which it would have done anyways if she didn't take it.

A T T R I B U T E S

R O L E

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Control Mage

A F F I L A T I O N

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Queon

E L E M E N T A L D O M A I N

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Metal

A R C A N E D O M A I N

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Auras

P R O F E S S I O N

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Enchanter

W E A P O N O F C H O I C E

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Chains

R O U G H V I R T U A L H I S T O R Y

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Ailanthus Altissima, the scientific name for a plant commonly called the 'tree of Heaven'. It is an invasive species with the ability to clone itself through its roots in a technique called 'suckering', and is, like the mythological hydra, difficult to exterminate. It is considered a noxious weed due to the foul-smelling odor it produces. The tree also resprouts vigorously when cut, making its eradication difficult and time-consuming. In many urban areas, it has acquired the derisive nicknames of "ghetto palm", "stink tree", and "tree of Hell".

No one knows, or cares, why Dr. Eileen Fang chose this name, and most refuse to say it in full, earning Eileen the nickname 'Tessa' from Altissima. Since logging on for the first time, Tessa has been like her namesake, invading parties and raising a stink. Her initial desire had been to party up and quest with others, but her belligerence always got in the way.

Eventually, she turned her focus to enchantments, seeing a need in the community for those who only had access to crafted gear to attain gear that could compete with rare drops. While her enchantments aren't that good, properly crafted and enchanted gear at least had a fighting chance against Rares and Epics, and sometimes, a fighting chance was all some adventurers needed. Tessa found her niche, but still needed to satisfy her urge to actually adventure, so she would take enchanting commissions, find out what materials she needed for her enchantments, and then demand the ones who commissioned her to take her with them when they went to farm said materials.

Due to forcing herself into parties in this way, Tessa adopted a flexible, albeit lazy, playstyle: a confusing, semi-immobile walking disaster area, essentially claiming a large portion of the battlefield as her own and manipulating the positions of her enemies, doing some status effects and some damage, while still survivable enough to hold her own.

Tessa has not achieved fame for her enchantments; she instead draws clients by under-sellng other enchanters, a practice that has gotten her in trouble with guilds on more than one occasion.

[User]
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 • Tʜᴇ Dᴜɴɢᴇᴏɴ •

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A barrage of flaming arrows, explosive bolts and fireballs exploded against Arnaakus like the tide crashing against the side of a cliff. Fire washed over the demon's frozen exterior, sending wave after wave of steam billowing up as the slimes were turned to vapor from the sheer heat. The dozens of flung projectiles made the demon's exposed arm their target, burning through that thick build up of ice with surprising rapidity. He gave an angry, pained howl in response that shook the very foundations of the crypt.

"Cooonsuume!"

With strength only it's titanic arms could afford, the monster took hold of the bent steel and splintered wood of the great doors and tore them off at the hinges. A thunderous crash resounded as the mangled remains hit the floor of the chamber. Arnaakus had to duck down to pass through the vaulted ceiling of the hallway, his eyes burning with an intense desire to feed upon the souls standing before him.

He gripped his claws into a tight ball, six razor-sharp shards stabbing forth from the interior of his arm. Icy growths like the spines on an animal's back covered the top portion of Arnaakus's limb, their menacing, jagged tips glimmering in the light of the dungeoneers' pyre. Each was roughly six feet in height and one and a half in width, their crystal-like forms cracked and fragile looking even at a glance.

The titanic boss flung his arm around, sending the spines scattering across the field of battle- targeting three toward the back row of fighters and three toward the front team. The shards shattered on impact with the ground, creating a barrage of hundreds of tiny shards that were sent soaring in every direction. Too small to cripple, maim or kill, the shrapnel was meant more as a particularly painful distraction than anything else.

Arnaakus's primary method of murder came when he held up one of his arms above his head a few seconds later. He took a number of seconds longer to bring it slamming down against the stone, cracking it in the process. The creature grumbled as he brought his limb sweeping from one end of the hallway to the other with the intent to smash anyone caught in his way up against the wall. Only those closest to it- namely the melee fighters and Tiferet- were in danger of being squashed flat.

[Assistant]
Ailanthus_Altissima• The Dungeon •

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Tif almost died, Tessa thought to herself. In the back of her mind, she blamed herself for letting her guard down and not getting her spells back up in time. But it seems Rael had got there just in time, while Graves was capturing the creature's attention. He called out to the party to concentrate damage on the limb, but for someone who specialized in area control, concentrating damage was not her strong point. She did have one spell available though. Since all her spells were hemispheres centered around herself, she had one spell that required quite a casting period that converted all her spherical spells into cone spells. The spheres would split behind her and open up, angle by angle, much like Pac-Man's death animation. At this point, she had got all her spells up, so Arnaakus was being hit by period lightning strikes, slowed by a gravitational field, and slapped by chains; while a protective shield surrounded her allies, reducing their damage taken. if she converted her spells to cones, the damage and intensity would increase substantially, while the shield would block more damage, but was she willing to leave their backs exposed? Sure this brute looked like the boss, and often, for dramatic reasons, boss battles did not involve a random party of monsters suddenly coming in from behind. But did the game still work on such mechanical logic? And didn't Tiferet almost die partially because Tessa hadn't been paranoid enough? Yet the group seemed to be struggling.

"Hold on, I'm going to concentrate my spells!" Tessa called out, and began channeling her concentration spell. The hemispheres reached quarter-spheres (halfway to completion), lightning struck Arnaakus with higher frequency, the gravitational pull became more intense, and the chains started attempting to bind various parts of the creature, when suddenly it shot out exploding ice shards at the party. Tessa winced as the shrapnel hit her, feeling actual pain, and losing part of the channel. Fortunately, Tessa specialized in being able to muscle through interrupts, so instead of canceling her spell completely, it only set her back (to about 25% completion). "Give me just a little bit more time!"

[User]
R a e l

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 • Tʜᴇ Dᴜɴɢᴇᴏɴ •

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The red-headed rogue jumped backwards, twirling her polearm in her fingers as she channeled the magical energies in her body as a loud 'crackle' filled the air around her. As a visible flash of lightning magic traveled from her weapon into her small body as she looked immediately to Tiferet whom it was her responsibility to protect. It was a tiring spell-like ability, but it would get the two of them away from Arnaakus's attempt to render the bulk of them pancakes. She just hoped Graves had a plan to get himself out of harm's way because she wasn't going to be able to help him get spacing from the attack from the gigantic creature. The only thought in her mind as she moved at blistering fast speeds toward Tiferet and away from the creature was the distinct hope that he wouldn't be so dumb to die here and now when everyone in the party needed his bullheaded ass.

"Ngh." She uttered as she gritted her teeth, grabbing and pushing Tiferet away from harm's way. For the second time since the "battle" had started. Tiferet would at least recognize the ability -- it had been the exact same one Rael had used to rush in and block the monster's strike at the beginning of the battle after all.

When they had cleared the space, Rael had let go of Tiferet, immediately turning around and barking orders.

"Spread out! Outmaneuver him!"

[Assistant]
Ailanthus_Altissima• The Dungeon •

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"S-spread out?! Tessa called out in surprise, "NO! It's now or never! Concentrate!" Tessa, had, unfortunately, over-committed. By narrowing her spells forward into a 45 degree cone, she was unable to move, and leaving their backs wide open. Still, all the crowd-control now being piled onto the green skeletal being was having a marked effect. Electrified chains slapped at, and wrapped themselves around the boss' limbs, while intense gravity attempted to drag it down. Damage to allies in front of Tessa was also being significantly reduced thanks to concentrating her shield spells as well. She'd never done this before, holding such a behemoth in place for so long, and her mana had drained at such an alarming rate that she had gone through several mana potions just to maintain her hold. "Someone better kill that thing already...!" She called out, knowing that despite concentrating her spells, her damage output was only chipping away at the creature.


[System]
Goes By (Nicknames):Tajjus, or Tajje.
Age: Unknown, though he has a mind set of a 19-35 year old.
Gender: Male
Race: Human(?)

APPEARANCE

Portrayed By (Actor/Actress): Unknown. Tajjus has never shown his face since his baby-years. ((I do not really favor an actor and actress, and, I'd prefer to keep Tajjus's facial features a secret anyways. I think you understand.
Hair Color: Unknown
Eye Color: An unnatural pale teal.
Skin Tone: Unknown
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 360 pounds, armor, weapons, and all.
Body Build: Tajjus is entirely coated in armor, but, it is clear due to his armor's build that his own body structure would not be bulky, but slightly lean, though by far bulkier than any elves' body build. He does not have any minute amount of body fat, and is completely muscle and bones.

Weapons: Tajjus is a man who keeps with him a variety of weaponry, both out of habbit and to ensure his survival.

Knives: These are the backbone of his weaponry. These throwing blades range from six inches long to two feet, some jagged, some double-edged, but all insanely sharp. These blades's metal vary between alloys of iron, steel, bronze, and a metal type exclusive to Tajjus's tribe's region: Territh. This metal is a sacred mixture of different alloys of various metals, and is something that is what the majority of his knives are made of. This metal is light, yet extremely resilient. This blade can be thrown farther distances than his other knives, and are naturally the sharpest of his blades.

Daggers: A more heavy-duty variation of knives, Tajjus has a few of these on him, all approximately 3 feet long. These all are coated with a liquid that is extremely flammable. All blades under this category could be considered more dependable than knives, though they can not be thrown as far.

Claymores: Tajjus does not have in his possession a sword, despite this, on his person he has four claymores, each double edged, and as keenly honed as the rest of his melee items in his inventory. These are more reliable to sustain heavy blows than his other weapons, and two of these are coated with said flammable liquid.

Bow and Quiver:
Tajjus is a skilled and acute marksman, and when he desires or is required to engage his enemy from a far, he is not ill-equipped. His quiver is supplied with a fair amount of arrows, and his bow has seldom let him down in it's capabilities, if at all. Some arrows are poison tipped, though only a small handful are.

Overall Appearance (Clothing Included): pre13.deviantart.net/c62f/th/pre/i/201..

PERSONALITY
Likes: Tajjus enjoys time to himself as much as he would enjoy a friend. He will often go off on a long, silent hunting trip or travel for time to himself and time to think. He is considered a wanderer, and for the most part, he is. Tajjus also will never kill owls, and has a personal liking for them. He finds a small appealing to a calculated risk, and will make and take these repeatedly. He enjoys the independence of his occupation, though banishment makes him lonely at times.
Dislikes: Tajjus does not grin at the thought of a more skilled knife thrower, and it is in his subconscious, though he will never admit this, to be the best knife thrower there is. To see someone defeat him in his blades man ship is a disgrace to him. He dislikes pointless killing, but will tolerate it if he must. He also does not appreciate those who do not apply logical thinking, or any form of hotheadedness.
Strengths:
Mental Strengths:
 -Tajjus is a fighter at heart, and will push himself or battle on until either his opponent(s) is dead, or he is. He does know when to retreat and when to attack, but once engaged, Tajjus will only back down if he absolutely has to.
 -Tajjus is a relatively smart man, and has a developed over the years a slightly detective like instinct, as for when he is searching for prey, such as a bounty target, or just an animal.
 -Tajjus is not the type of man who will ever lie, but, if a circumstance does come where information must not be conveyed, he will often remain silent. Until then, he will most often speak the truth.
Physical Strengths:
-Due to his loss of complete vision, Tajjus's hearing, smelling, and touch have strengthened greatly, and he uses these to his full advantage. He can hear the smallest breath if he tones his ears for so, and can distinguish many textures fairly easily, and has an uncanny knack for identifying things.
-Tajjus has incredibly acrobatic reflexes, and can perform the most intricate maneuvers with what seems to be natural prowess, and graceful ease. Tajjus's reflexes are extremely sharp, rival that of an elven warrior's, and eclipse a regular humans reactions.
-Tajjus may have a weakened arm, but, he is still a very capable knife thrower and bowsman. With his light-weight knives, he can almost throw a knife with pin-point accuracy 100 yards away.
Weaknesses:
Mental Weaknesses:
-Tajjus has sunken into the shades of greys many, many times during his travels. He has a strict form of what is right and wrong, and will do what many or some would think questionable and call it right. Tajjus could be considered somewhat ruthless in this way.
-Ever since banishment from his home, and the death of his loved ones, Tajjus believes the sentence of banishment he was given: He is doomed to a life of violence, and isolation. He often is a bit of a pessimist because of this, and since he believes these words or his final destiny, he will plunge into many different dangerous missions, whether it is wise or not wise.
-Though banished, Tajjus keeps himself constricted to his people's ancient teachings: To never expose himself until circumstances are right, and to remain armed and masked. He also upholds many queer religions, such as knocking on doors three times to keep demons away before entering, and he will always usher a silent prayer before ever breathing in an area that has smoke. This prohibits him form entering a place directly—there are also several holidays or sacred times when he believes it would not believe it is his time to fight.
Physical weaknesses:
-Tajjus is color blind, and lives in a world where his blues and greens are forever his greys and blacks. This partially saddens the warrior, as he can never truly admire the beauty or detail of anything entirely, and also an agitation. He will never be able to tell which color is which.
-Tajjus's right arm is slightly weaker than his right, due to an injury that occurred long ago in a hunting trip. It is more sensitive to pain, and cannot support as much weight as the other. This arm will also break easier, and is just a tad slower than any of his other limbs.
-Tajjus has a bit of a bad heart, and though it pumps strong, if he fights too long he will either pass out, fall into a comma—or worse, he will die. Some say he was cursed with such a thing, and that the days are counting down to when his heart will no longer pump, and he will die. Blows to the chest quicken any of these terrible results/ fates, and he often cannot keep up in a long fight for long. He will try though. And that is what may kill him as well.
-Tajjus is also partly blind in his left eye as well.
Fears: Being banished from his only family and tribe has left Tajjus scarred, and he believes that if he has proven to not be strong enough once, he will fail again. Since he knows failure is inevitable, he is constantly haunted by the prospect of not being able to perform the way he will need to, or be able to meet the demands that his tasks give. Tajjus doesn't only fear his failure, he fears his surroundings a bit, in the sense he does not know everything about the place he has been banished to, and feels perpetually paranoid of the sorts of people he meets, and has witnessed many things that have caused him to wonder and be extremely cautious of what black magic haunts middle earth. He has very little trust for dwarves, elves, and orcs.

Overall Personality: Tajjus is on the quiet side, as in he makes sure with every move he hardly makes a sound. He speaks when spoken to for the most part, and keeps any indications of what he is thinking or feeling concealed with a perpetually calm, gentle voice that echoes of some of his experiences, but holds the energy of one who's ready to go through twice more before sitting down for a retirement. Tajjus has learned the quality of patience and acceptance to their fullest almost. Even his closest hardly knew what he thought, and because of this, very few could defned him from banishment, since they could not confirm any of his intentions or innocence. His iron wall has thus thickened, due to his isolation, and feeling of rejection.
Overall, Tajjus is an open yet closed book. He will tell those who ask the answers of many things, but, if someone tried to nag at what he is or who he is, they will find it a bit more difficult to tug those ropes or hit those notes.

BACKGROUND
Date of Birth: unknown.
Place of Birth: The deserts of a far away land. Little is known about this desert area, save that its residence is a tribe of humans who call themselves the 'Zithe Khan'. A pack of deadly and religious people.
Social Ranking: Stranger, Hunter, foreigner who brings in hunted goods into town for trading. Occasionally Bounty-Hunter
Family: None. All have died.

Other Relationships:

Since he entered Middle Earth, Tajjus has few friends, if any. He knows the basics of being social, he is just having a hard time fitting in, despite how many years he has already been in middle earth.

[User]
Tajjus had awakened only minutes after the sun rose, his eyes now on the house which his prey took residence in. He gave a light huff, as he heard the sounds of voices. So everyone was awake. He leaned forward from his concelaled perch in the bushes, listening intently. There was lot of chatter, and an introduction. Tajjus would catch the she-elf's name. He found it to be something as that came so easily off the tongue, something smooth and elegant that fit the elf perfectly. Tajjus sighed as he reviewed how the elf seemed to have a relationship with the dwarf. It was going to weigh on his conscience some if he had to kill her, but not enough to haunt him forever.

He examined one of his poison coated knives, flipping it lightly in his hands, before sheathing it.

-

Kili tried hard to maintain some forms of patience as he stood where he was. Introductions and whatnot…this was taking forever. Kili gave himself the soft reminder to just remain calm, as much as he wanted to pack up and move towards their original goal: the mountains full of gold, which belonged to Thorin. The thought made Kili furrow a brow; hadn't there been speak last night of how man was only driven by greed? Perhaps the same could be said for dwarves? No. Thorin was just seeking his heritage. And the gold did rightfully belong to the dwarves.

[Assistant]
Patience, young Kili, I hope your brother taught you that. Adventure is ahead of you, and I will be there, but now, let's not have any grudges between me and your kin

Saeril's soft voice sounded without her lips moving, although her luminous green-yellow eyes trailed to him. Yes, since she was blessed to both brothers, there was now a mind-link with them, although she knew that they couldn't communicate with between each other the same way. She was emotionally-linked to both Fili and Kili, meaning she could feel their emotions, hear their thoughts, see their memories, whatever she was accessed to inside their heads, but the brothers can't link with each other alone. If either one of them falls, the elf bonded to them can have an emotional change, making them grimmer and imbalanced. This was certainly the reason why the Fangorn Elves were tasked to protect them.

"She will be joining us for this quest", the wizard sounded in the background, which made the Dwarf prince sigh in annoyance. Another elf. It had to be one of the people who betrayed his grandfather. "You need to reach mountain before the last days of Autumn", Beorn recalled over them. "You are running out of time", he added to them. "Which is way we must go through Mirkwood", Gandalf responded the ski changer, which made Saeril frown at hearing such a place. "That forest lies in the deepest part. Foul things creep beneath those trees. I would not venture there, unless in great need", Beorn warned him with grim in his rough voice.


[System]
Tex's epic bad guys
Many details are withheld.
Age: 24

Gender: Male

Appearance: Medium build, wearing the common white marine uniform with a long 'justice' cape draped over his back. Rigid features, a wide nose, strong square jaw, thin Caucasian eyes, thin cheeks, medium neck width. Roughly 5'9'' tall, and weighs about 160 lbs.

Personality: Arrogant, self centered, and cowardly.

Name: Zilto Juma

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Appearance: Light build with very slender arms and legs. His facial features are sharp, and he has a long mane of beautiful blonde hair. He wears the standard navy uniform. Stands 5'8'' tall and only weighs about 130 lbs

Personality: Arrogant, a show off, easy to anger.

[User]
The man appeared to be happy, a bit on the other side of what the normal spectrum usually allowed, but that was surprisingly the majority for most of the people who called the sea their home. So Abigail didn't think much of it. The man was in chains and that was probably enough to justify just how eager he appeared to be. Silently she watched and listened as he explained who the man on the line was. "So he's a slaver then." The red pirate's eyes narrowed at the thought. Slavery wasn't something she was a personal fan of. The man was talking so she blinked and turned her attention back to the man as he started talking about a picture of Treant. "Oh. Well, that's a shame, but I'm sure we'll see him soon enough. I get the feeling he's not the kind of man who'd let anything play out otherwise."

Abigail opened her mouth, expecting for more to come out but she stopped mid-breath when she caught a glimpse of the posters. "Oh." Her hand tightened on her sword. "I see." She paused for a moment, trying to choose her words carefully. "By any chance are you just a fan hoping for an autograph?"

[Assistant] "An autograph?" He rasped, stuffing the wanted fliers into his pocket, "That depends, kiddo. 15 million berries aint nothin' to be too proud of! But still, havin' yer face on a poster... Hmmm..." The man rubbed his chin with a smile and turned towards where Zypha had run off to, suddenly widening his eyes. "30 million berries is pretty nifty though, that Zypha is pretty interesting! Especially for a startin' bounty! What'd you two do to catch the attention of the government? Kill some marines? Hmmm?" The man bent his knees rhythmically and hummed to himself. "Regardless of whether I'm a fan or not, I don't, or rather can't, bring in pirates that have a pure heart!"

[User]
August slammed his fist against the desk; he was in disbelief that there was nothing of value. "What kind of pirate crew doesn't have maps or treasure?" His finger danced through the books on the shelf. Sucking his teeth, he began to complain. "I can find books anywhere."

 Fletcher was planning to pocket most of his findings. What the female captain didn't know wouldn't hurt her. Fortunately, there was nothing for him to pocket saving him the trouble of lying. "How much do these books go for?" August picked a book out of the shelf; he blew the dust of it and began skimming through the pages.

"I'm really not going to anything for this," he said as he threw the book on the desk. Fletcher walked out back to the deck and chose to see how everything else was going.

[Assistant]
Zypha watched as Croma ate and thanked her, ever on her guard just in case. Thankfully such guard was not needed despite the bloodlust as the woman thanked her for the food. "Don't thank me just yet, this crew was just a bunch of lousy crownies, I don't doubt the man behind this will try to get back his merchandise." Zypha looked Croma over more closely when she said merchandise, just to see what the slavers had almost had.

Croma was a pretty woman, slim and skilled with a sword, or scabbard in this case, as she never unsheathed her weapon during the battle. From what little she remembered of the other, non-crazy, prisoner was he had been somewhat of a blond pretty boy. In either case there was little doubt the two would have been worth quite a bit on the slave market. Even if they had managed to escape on their own, it would have been impossible for them to effectively pilot the large pirate vessel and they would have been captured again. It seemed that fate had decided her ship should arrive that day.

"Well, I'll expect you to pay me back for the food at least." Zypha added with a smirk. "Still, I am curious as to how you managed to fall into slaver's hands. Piss off the wrong type of people maybe?"

[User]
"What? Why? What did we do?" Small pause. Abigail's eyes narrowed into two tiny slits towards the man. "There shouldn't be any berries for me at all. Period." She watched the man, hand on her sword. It was hard to tell if she should draw it or not. Was he a threat? She was sure of it. Was he going to attack her? If she tried striking first she had little doubt. Would he attack her anyways? That was where her problems lay. She just couldn't tell. "Personally I had nothing against the marines, but they struck first and when they did several of my..." She paused, because as far as social circumstances went she never liked exaggerating a closeness. "Working colleagues were killed. We just followed the marine's own rule and dealt them some absolute justice. If anything they should be sending us flowers for stopping Yami and his crew's corruption."

"Pure heart?" She looked around to see if there was anyone behind her. "Who? Zypha? Are we going to get off the hook because of Zypha, because I don't have any problems with that." It was tempting to nod enthusiastically at the idea, but a little voice in Abigail's head told her not to, and who was she to argue with that.

[Assistant]
The man's smile disappeared and he begun walking towards Abigail with slanted eyebrows. "Blah blah blah, I've other things to do with my time! Where the hell do you get off lying about your piracy?" He asserted, summoning a small gavel in his right hand and patting it across his opposite palm. "Let yourself be judged by my Judge-Judge-Fruit! The truth will come forth regardless of the legitimacy of your words!" The man continued to approach abigail, patting the mallet in his hand against the air between them. It started to grow bigger, and bigger, changing color from a light green to a deep yellow, until it was blood red.

"It won't hurt if you're innocent!" He assured her, raising his hammer above his head once it reached the size of a small boat, nearly 4 meters in diameter. It was almost comedic to behold.

[User]
Croma continued to eat ripping into the food till there was nothing left even taking upon herself to suck the bone a little trying to get what more nourishment she could and sighing in contentment, still hungry but it would tide her over for a while. Listening to the woman talk explaining her situation admittedly she didn't know anything about how she got in that cell as she merely woke up there. "I'm looking for the captain I wish to check something, " she said, her hand wrapped around the handle of Kichi "As well as pay them back for putting me in a cage" Croma finished picking at the plate making sure she didn't miss anything and leaned back.

"I don't know exactly how I got there all I remember is being hungry and passing out on my boat, then I wake up in the cell, " she recalls her ears perking up with Zypha mentioned paying her back and immediately remembered she had no money "I have no coin of my own but I will certainly try to pay you back"

[Assistant]
Abigail almost took a step back, the stranger's expression had changed so quickly, but she managed to force her feet to stay anchored where they were. He talked a lot for someone who didn't have time. Why did they always talk so much when there wasn't time? By the time he stopped rambling on about judging her there was a mallet over his head, huge and ready to come barreling down on her like a giant's food over a red bug.

"Judgement?" Abigail's mind flashed. It danced around the man's words and she quickly came to the conclusion that anyone willing to allow their fate to be dictated by some relic, be it a god's or the devil's, could never be innocent. innocence wasn't something which came from some sky king's decree, but from the understanding of right, wrong, and the deliberate choice to act accordingly. "Screw you, and screw your judgmental cartoon mallet." She pulled out her blade and rushed at the man, fully intent on swiping at his chest before he could bring down the weapon.

"If I wanted to keep on serving some pretentious version of right or wrong I would've never left home!"

[User]
As August walked back outside, he was stunned at the sight of conflict. He backed himself against a wall instinctively and kept his observation at a silent level. There was not much to infer from the battle. It looked like the crazy guy from before chose to fight one of the pirates.

 Relaxing his muscles, he kept watching the two fight. The crazy guy was equipped with this giant hammer; there was no telling where he had pulled that from. His opponent was a female pirate carrying a sword. Other than that, there was nothing August could speculate.

August decided it was better to view the people on board. Interfering wasn't going to help him in the slightest, and viewing the others might give him more of an idea of what he is temporarily stuck with.

[Assistant]
"Don't worry about money, I'll figure out some way you can repay me." Zypha Got up and stretched her arms a little to relax her tense muscles. "For the moment you're free to tag along if you prove yourself useful." Zypha took a glance at the woman's sword to which she seemed very attached to.

"The name's Zypha, Zypha Celtus if you must know the full name and I...well became the captain of this small vessel quite recently." The events of their last landfall still haunted her a bit even though she was already plenty used to death.

"Well if you want to find the enemy captain he should still be knocked out over there, maybe you can get some answers from him. Well I better take one last look over there before we hightail it out of here. I am not about to get captured by slavers!"  Zypha gave the side of the cabin a sudden smash quite suddenly, the wood creaked a little.

Zypha turned and exited the cabin, turned back toward the ship only to see the largest hammer she had ever seen! "What in the Grand Line is that!?" From her vantage point she could really only see the hammer and not who wielded it and who was on the receiving end. With a quick curse, she made her way back on the vessel to see what was going on.

[User]
The crazed man tilted his head from side to side as Abigail spoke. His pupils wandered like a pair of unbound marbles, ignorant of what the woman was saying to him. He didn't care about her excuses or moral contradictions! This was a courtroom now!

"Podium-" The man howled. Suddenly, a tube of mass, in the same shape of his judgement hammer, appeared under his feet and rose him up, letting abigail's sword strike it. Her blade went right through the 'podium' though, cutting it like cheese. "Ohoho~? You can cut my podium?" He mused, shrinking his hammer back down to a gavel-sized tool, and looking down at Abigail from his podium of power, "Let me assure you, my dear pirate," The man wheezed, pulling another wanted poster from his pocket and hanging it over Abigail's head.

"My judgement isn't pretentious or flawed!"

The poster showed a rather unflattering portrait of the crazed man sticking out his tongue and making a pair of 'OK' signs with his hands.

'Judge' Mathias
350'000'000 Berries

"We Shichibukai are a little smarter than the navy that's hired us!"

[Assistant]
While everyone was distracted with the things Mathias was doing, they failed to notice that one of the ships that was still at the docks had been manned by a large group of pirates. They boarded the vessel, which headed towards the Lotus ship and the first enemy ship at great speed. There was a total of 50 men visible on deck, one of which stood out from the large crowd with a greyish cape, to show that he was the captain.

"ONWARD MEN!!! SHOW EM WHAT HAPPENS TO THOSE, WHO MESS WITH THE RUSTSILVER PIRATES!!!" The captain roared, as the ship was about to ram into the first enemy ship. It aimed specifically for the first ship, as Mathias's giant hammer had attracted most of their attention. At the way things was going, it appeared that nobody would have the time to act at all.


[System]
(サラ ・ ラインハルト)
Sara Ráinharuto

---

---

Alias:
Sara Ackerman, Miss/Lady/Lieutenant Ackerman (or Reinhardt), Ma'am, Pale Titan, The Angel (of Humanity).

Species: Human, Intelligent Titan.
Gender: Female
Birthdate: April 18th.
Age: 25.
Height: 5' 7" (Human), 14 m (Titan)

Relatives/Relationships:
Kenny Ackerman - Biological Father (alive)
Rosa Reinhardt - Biological Mother (deceased)
Fae Reinhardt - Biological Sister (unknown)
Kuchel Ackerman - Biological Aunt (deceased)
Levi Ackerman - Biological First-Cousin; Older (alive)
Armin's Mother - First-Cousin/Once-Removed; Older (deceased)
Armin Arlelt - First-Cousin/Twice-Removed; Younger (alive)

Current Residence: Utopia District in Wall Rose.
Former Residence: Underground of Wall Sina.
Occupation: Elite Survey Corps Member, Lieutenant.
Affiliation: Survey Corps; Scout Regiment.

Hair Color: Platinum-Blonde.
Eye Color: Blue.

---

Personality:
Even when she was a child, Sara always seemed to hold a sense of maturity, and very strong independence upon her being. Even though she grew up in a very corrupted and chaotic society, she stays quiet, calm, and level-headed - hardly ever losing her cool, even in the face of danger. However, when expressing such an emotion, Sara proves to be fierce and quite aggressive, especially when resorting to physical violence. Apart from this, she is a very methodical and patient individual, who always analyzes a situation before making any advances - although she does not always find this necessary, as she does have her impulsive moments.

After waking up, with the powers of a Titan, and not have much recollection of her early life, Sara seldom smiles, and gives off a rather cold, almost-stoic disposition, having to never give any signs of distress during escalating situations, and keep her head on seeing a mission to its end. She claims herself to be "not good with feelings", and admits on having a hard time making friends; personally, this makes Sara more of a socially-awkward, introverted person, rather than one who is antisocial, in spite of being seen alone, and using her own resources. Furthermore, due to all of her time fighting, and attempting to fulfill her purpose, Sara hasn't put in a lot of time being social.

Often very distant, and preferring to study people before giving away any personal info,

However, for all of her toughness and seemingly-detached nature, she does possess a more vulnerable side, even when it involves making close connections - especially romantic and familial ones. In fact, Sara is so noble, maternal, compassionate, and loyal on the inside, she will give protection, strength, comfort, and reassurance to anyone who might need it, giving off the impression of an "angelic" individual; hence the nickname "The Angel of Humanity". It's because of these traits that Sara is a fierce and determined fighter: She will do anything for the survival of herself and others, to the point where she's constantly finding ways to get out of predicaments.

Abilities:
Omni-Directional Mobility Gear & Blade-Wielding : Sara is so physically-excellent in blade-wielding and with her ODM gear, rumor has it that she may have been personally-trained by her more-proficient cousin Levi, or if she ever used it before joining the military; she would rather not tell. Her level of experience just might be a few inches higher than that of Mikasa.

Expert Combatant : Even before joining the military, Sara Reinhardt was trained extensively in hand-to-hand combat, having to do feats that would allow her to fight dirty and overpower others. This has been extended into her Titan form, which makes her all-the-more dangerous. Considerable in her peak physical condition, she is also a strong and fast athlete with great reflexes in her maneuvers.

Hunting Expertise/Intuition : Controversy surrounds Sara with this skill. Considering that her father was an infamous serial killer, it is highly-possible that she may have learned tactics on how to pursue and avoid her targets, having to hold extensive knowledge on the ways of stealth, tracking, luring, and trapping, of which proves itself useful in her fight with the Titans - even while operating as one. This would arguably have made her the perfect assassin. She also shows some knowledge in gun-wielding, as well as creating and mixing edibles, whether medicinal or poisonous.

Awakened Power : Coming from a nearly-extinct bloodline of the Ackerman warrior-family, Sara inherits some kind of dormant power that can only be triggered whenever she's expressing the strongest of emotions, allowing her physical attributes to become far more developed than that of an average human; perhaps a "byproduct of Titan science".

Power of the Titans : Sometime in her early years, Sara acquired the powers of a Titan-Shifter, becoming referred to as the "Pale Titan"; the only Intelligent Titan with albino traits (like herself), whenever she transforms; nearly-identical to the Female Titan, in both the physical sense and special ability (skin hardening and willful regeneration). Standing at fourteen meters, Sara can easily dominate pure Titans, overpower a few Survey Corps members (who attacked her out of fear and confusion), and even rival herself with other Titan-Shifters.

Voiced By:Live-Portrayer:Theme Song(s):

[User]
She remembered herself as a bit mellow and soft, as she was growing up, but then, the last thing she knew that was (supposedly) happy, was being in her mother's presence, and being told by an older male, to find Eren Jaeger. Everything was a blur, and the notion of where her mother Rosa, and her unknown father might be, had dissipated in time, since the incident. There was darkness, and then, she found herself in the middle of nowhere, within the body of a Titan, where Levi and Erwin have found her. They didn't know who she was, until blood ties became more apparent during training. She was nineteen-twenty years old, at the time.

She never saw her parents in the same frame, mainly due to her unknown father not being part of the picture, in times of need. However, it was only one day where Sara remembered crossing paths with a mysterious man in a hat on the streets, a few times without her mother's knowledge, and having to be secretly taught things that would definitely benefit the both of them. The name of this man was a sliver, but she happened to recall the name 'Kenny', from time to time, to which was all-too familiar for her cousin. She wasn't even sure if he or Rosa were even still alive. In her mind, Levi was all she had in biological relations, although she did remember her mother briefly mentioning about her sister, who happened to be cadet Armin's own mother, making him count, pretty count.

Perhaps she was much more comfortable in her more professional persona, since she found it to be a much easier mindset during interaction. The memories of her childhood came out as shards, as it wasn't entirely cheerful, while having to be quite gray, mostly revolving around books, discipline, and survival. Sara didn't have a lot of friends, or really any, mainly due to the fact that she was mainly soft-spoken, quiet and, if one looked more closely, shy. Her training and professionalism only made her a bit more hardened, although it seemed that Kate was able to make her outer shell briefly crack. She spoke again, after a moment, with the softness still evident within her voice.

"Alright then...Katherine"

Perhaps the other young woman was right that, in a way, Sara could try to show who she really was, underneath her usual businesslike temperament, to which the platinum-blonde completely shrouded, since she had been found, all those years ago, starting with her stepping away from using the usual titles. It would be, at least, fair that Bellows would do the same for her, by calling Sara by her first name, rather than by her professional one.

Would it be possible that Kate was under a similar umbrella? That her real self may be shrouded by the one she currently displayed? It could explain the girl's efforts in keeping her emotions buried. That very thought was in her mind, once more, as she continued to look at her with soft yet concentrated eyes, from the other side of the table, as if the woman was trying to pinpoint on whether if she was right or not, at the very moment.

[Assistant]
Funnily enough, Sara was pretty close to being on the mark about Katherine's own guarded feelings. The only significant difference was that it was actually a case of protecting the one she was inside from that which was outside. There were things in the world that her psyche couldn't handle, so it had gone and locked up to kkeep from being harmed. The Titans were, strangely enough, not the root of the cause. They just didn't help. Sara's attempts to figure Kate out would not fail to understand certain things. If Kate were hiding her real self, then her outbursts had to be a definite unsurpressed Kate that would be more outgoing and free, if not for something. She didn't let herself 'out' as often because it wasn't safe. She felt exposed in these circumstances, and that led her to 'burrow in' and wait out the danger.

The only times that she had outbursts were when she simply could not contain what was bothering her or making her happy, and of course during he more savage moments when attacking Titans. Kate wasn't well-adjusted, but emotionally skewed and trying to push herself back into balance with her intellect. More to the point, it wasn't as though she lacked emotional ties, but rather had trouble forging them, so whatever ones she had were ultimately important to her. Imagine the trouble that Eren had been in, and how that affected her. She wasn't as seemingly close to him as Mikasa was, but like Armin, she was devoted and would probably take any news of something bad happening to any of the trio pretty badly. Kate had invited Sara to that short list of people she felt secure around, although...when you think about it, it wouldn't be as hard as you might think.

Perhaps it was just a coincidence, but...in all the praise of her mother or Hange Zoe, or even her own abilities, did you notice that she never mentioned her father? Well, in any case, it might be that they had things in common, or that Kate really wanted to get to know Sara because she'd decided that the Lieutenant was ultimately trustworthy to some capacity. She smiled as Sara appeared to ease up, maybe even let down her own guard, as well. Or perhaps...it had been down right when they had started talking. Katherine made mention of her discomfort, yet she had apparently endured other people who referred to her professionally without comment. That was a definite sign that she wanted Sara to not be her cold self around her, at least when she didn't have to be. She was almost finished with her meal now, when the Brunette spoke up again.

"So, any plans before tomorrow? Once I deliver the 'beans', I'll be all set."


[System]
Appearance:
Height: 5'9, medium lean and muscular build.

Complexion: Fair, evidence - small nicks and scars - of his experience in combat. Dark blonde hair clipped to a French crop. Hazel eyes. Facial hair generally well kept and short.

Attire: Everyday clothes are usually understated, plain linen; a long-sleeve belted tunic, trousers with leg wraps and leather shoes or low cut boot, leather bracers, fit for sparring or riding. Court clothes would include an embroidered quilted tunic (belted) dyed in a deep red or blue over a shirt, and appropriately matching trousers and tall leather boots, a dense fur-trimmed cloak is worn across one shoulder closed together with a heavy silver ouroboros broach, and some articles of jewellery; necklaces and rings.

Age:
21

Bio:
Erick is the middle child of King Henrick, who rules the northern Kingdom of Jörda. The fringes of the country begin at the other side of the river that cuts through Sahas, they have hard borders up against several Gilthan states in the far north and west, meaning the Kingdom has been involved in conflicts for some time to push back Gilthan advance. Fortunately, much of the northern terrain is hilly and mountainous and larger settlements in Jörda are heavily fortified, King Henrick however fears these advantages will not be sufficient to halt enemy advances indefinitely, and has therefore decided that an alliance with Astalia will be necessary in the preservation of the sovereignty of Jörda.

Jörda has fertile land centrally and south towards the river, highly self sufficient in growing crops for textiles and food, it's people, whom are predominantly human, are also skilled boat builders; they make use of the river for freshwater fishing as well as occasional access to the Eastern sea where settlements aren't near the coast. The mountainous regions are rich in ores and some precious metals, consequently, Jörda produces some of the hardest metal weaponry. Jörda traders abroad may be seen with wares such as animal pelts, textiles, and fine crafted weapons and jewellery.

Erick's older brother Andor, whom was the eldest of the three children, was killed some months ago in a bloody battle at the northern front, from which Erick has returned after completing his brother's work. He is a skilled swordsman, equestrian and archer. There has been little time for Erick to pursue other interests outside the scope of warfare, as the country is embroiled in perpetual conflict, and he has been tasked with defending the people of Jörda.

[User]
Finding this 'Court of Flowers' was easier in Vyarin's mind than it was quickly turning out to be. The palace was tall, imposing even on the inside, intricately decorated down to the smallest corner. In his lone eye, the world within seemed stretched upwards uncannily, like cowhide in a tannery. Windows stood the height of two of himself, but barely the width of three-quarters himself, packed closely together in organized regiments one after the other. The effect was exacerbated by the figure of the doorways that line the halls and the various items of furnishing and decoration, all built conversely too small for him. He had to duck down to enter into giant spaces. It was a fever dream to navigate, like something out of the maddest stories his carers would tell to him.

In the end, Vyarin decided the best path forward was tried and true methodology. It was simple, once he thought back on it. He will simply start entering doors and offshoots until he reached the Court of Flowers. There were only so many places a courtyard fit for a party could be; he will doubtless stumble onto it long before it ended. So, alone and armed with his conviction, he began his search . . . and immediately rammed headlong into a particularly thin candle sconce. Rubbing his temple and glowering, he righted the object, looking around for any sign of disturbed castellans, which there fortunately were none. He will keep a hand to the wall at all times.

Path after path, road after road, a few minutes began to stretch to near the majority of an hour. Most of the rooms he came across were as strange themselves as devoid of flowers. Some were bare of all things, blocked off by a simplistic looking door, awaiting a renovation that may take centuries to come. Others were perhaps bedchambers, but so clean that it was most like prepared for some guest that will never arrive, as evidenced by the thin sheen of dust upon the desks and sheets. Good luck was on Vyarin's side, for he did not stumble upon any spaces already occupied, and quite unfriendly to his sudden intrusion. Yet, as his ears picked up the faint sounds of some commotion, he concluded that was not to be for long. Instinctively, he felt relieved at the presence of a resident of some sort. He could ask their guide towards this elusive Court. Then, he stopped short, realizing the fault in that reasoning. It would entail him having to communicate his own desire, as well as understand their response all in Astalian. Holding a hand to his forehead, he rehearsed some crude phrases to himself.

"Excuse . . . where . . . the Chamber of the . . . the Primrose? The Chamber of the Primrose . . . is . . . to be? Excuse, where the Chamber of the Primrose . . . is to be . . ." He nodded, and raised himself to full height, striding purposefully in.

He didn't know what to expect from this next room, but that was not it. A lone girl, one of the four daughters in fact, armed with a sword far larger than his own, dancing about and striking at invisible foes. Vyarin could only watch for a few moments, observing the movements closely. They were precise, swift, she is obviously familiar with their use. Was it their way, in this strange land, to arm and train women as one would do for the men?

"Excuse," he finally said, breaking the silence. He pointed to the sword, the one so great it must be wielded in two hands. "Apology. Is . . . interest. Very interest." A heavy silence fell on the room, absent of the clatter of shoes on polished wood.

[Assistant]
At footsteps, Jinayah grumbled very faintly. She had her back turned and was still midswing, thinking it was one of her sisters coming to collect her. "Yes, I'm going to the party in just a moment, let me finish this." Of course she had said that to herself nearly 20 minutes back, and again at 10 minutes. But the voice that spoke out was definitely none of her sisters, neither was it her father or any of the other knights she knew by name.

Ever so slowly, she turned around, finally seeing Prince Vyarin darkening the doorway. "Ah." Carefully, she sheathed the practice blade and stared just a bit at him. What to say? She imagined he had a thousand questions, the first of which was likely why a woman was allowed a blade in the first place.

"He- hello Prince Vyarin." She dipped a low curtsy, the tip of the scabbard at her back nearly brushing the ground. "Er, I suppose you're wondering what I'm doing out here instead of at the party." Was she imagining that shocked gaze? He looked so blank she wasn't sure what to do. "M-my father has permitted me the use of the sword since I was of age to start squire training. If you wish to know what was behind that decision, please feel free to ask him." The sword, despite it not being hers, gave her courage. Her carefully coifed hair was in disarray, and there was dust on the edges of her pink gown. But she was still of the royal family and would command herself as such. "If you wish to know why I wanted to learn anyway, well, look around you. The Empire creeps insidious into our back rooms, taking what they will from our people. I will not sit by and do needlepoint while my world is taken from me. I have no kingdom to inherit, no magic, no spies. By Gods, if all I have is a blade and my body, that will be enough."

"Father may see me as a piece on a board and that's just fine. But I aim to be the Steel Dragoon, if I'm to be a piece at all." In the game of war, the Steel Dragoon was a most sought after piece to get onto the board. It could capture and remove adjacent pieces, sometimes drastically changing the flow of the game in its wake.

"No man, not even you, will keep me from this ambition." Her piece said, she waited with head held high for the outrage. Instead, she just found confusion on the Prince's face. Only then did she remember the translator from earlier.

"Oh no. You didn't understand a word of that, did you?" She smiled in a truly embarrassed way and shook her head, her cheeks burning. What to say now? Slowly, she put the sword back in the rack with its brothers, and took a moment to collect herself.

"Good evening, Prince Vyarin." She said in careful Prodzy. She had practiced these phrases for a solid month, but they were slipping from her mind as she spoke. "It is… an evening of beauty, no? What is your… preference - no, purpose! What is your purpose?"


[System]
BASIC
Goes By: Maleficent (alter-ego)
Age: 5,739
Gender: Female
Race: Half-Sindarin, Half-Silvan Elf

APPEARANCE

Portrayed By: Angelina Jolie with a slight Russian accent
Hair Color: Dark, Auburn-Brown
Eye Color: Luminous Yellow-Green
Skin Tone: Porcelain Pale
Height: 5' 11"
Weight: 119 lbs
Body Build: Tall and Slender

Wing-Cloak

Natural Elven Attire (with and without wings)

Battle Outfit

PERSONALITY

Likes: Humans, Elves, Dwarves, Happiness, Animals, Flying, Her Godsons
Dislikes: Chaos, Greed, Spiders, Darkness, Orcs, Sorrow
Strengths: Fighting, Beauty, Wisdom, Inspiration
Weaknesses: Mentions of Her Past, Loneliness, Anger
Fears: Losing Her Family, Her Past

Overall Personality:
Mysterious | Regal | Soft-Spoken | Larger Than Life | Elegant | Compassionate | Unpredictably Vicious

Everyone believed Saeril to be born a creature of chaos and pure evil, but they just do not know the true story. Rather than a woman who is evil, Saeril was instead a benevolent young woman of purity; she valued the peaceful nature on Middle-Earth, and she had a fierce passion of guarding various realms and its inhabitants. As a fierce protector, Saeril is a desired perfectionist, and a woman of her word; due to the despair and sorrow of even the most vulnerable of races, she focuses on finding the best intentions for them, even if it means to risk her life. As she suffers from a devastating past that involved the Deceiver's corruption upon her mind, Saeril is truly hurt and very lonely inside, interpreted by her amnesiac guilt for her crimes. Her ultimate goal was to redeem herself and dissipate her inner darkness.

However, she never anticipated this goal to be changed when she rekindled herself with her Dwarven godsons, Fili and Kili; she grew to care for them as a motherly figure, forming an adopted-parental bond with them. Despite herself being closest to the youngest, Kili, Saeril was devastated after witnessing Azog kill the eldest brother, causing her to scream in agony and grief. Determined to keep the youngest from falling into the same fate, she became strictly protective of Kili. As his blessed godparent, Saeril would do anything to keep him alive, and as a result, she went with him in many ventures, though she did not always agree with them. Regarding him, her bond with Kili was very strong, therefore her main goal was to keep him safe.

Saeril will not hesitate in giving others her blunt opinion, and she would often guide them when they are upset or need advice. Proud and proper she was, she will never bow to anyone she disagreed with. Evident by her relationship with Thorin Oakenshield, it's complicated when it comes to terms of trust; she betrayed him (as he claimed) by revealing the truth of the quest, and by "stealing" the starlight jewels from his treasure hoard for King Thranduil. Although she was claimed as not "trusting", Saeril openly showed that she cared a great deal for him, saving his life multiple times on different occasions.

BACKGROUND

Date of Birth: YT 1578
Place of Birth: Fangorn Forest, located north of Rohan
Social Ranking: Royalty (formerly)
Family:
- Kili Durin (Godson; alive) (Dwarf)
- Fili Durin (Godson; alive) (Dwarf)
- Dis Durin (Compadre; unknown) (Dwarf)
- Hermia (Mother; deceased) (Sindarin Elf)
- Lysander (Father; deceased) (Silvan Elf)
- Ulla (Aunt; deceased) (Sindarin Elf)
- Kinloch (Uncle; deceased) (Sindarin Elf)

Other Relations:
- Gandalf the Grey (Mentor; alive) (Maiar)
- Thorin II Oakenshield (Friend; alive) (Dwarf)
- Aragorn II Elessar (Friend; alive) (Man)
- Azog The Defiler (Enemy; alive) (Orc)
- Meliya Ardorion (Friend; alive) (Silvan Elf)

[User]
"But how on earth did you get past the goblins?!" Kili asked, astounded that the hobbit had managed to escape the tunnels alone.
"How indeed!" Dwalin echoed, wanting to know just as badly.
"Yes, well..." Bilbo cleared his throat awkwardly and slipped the ring subtly back into his pocket, hoping they wouldn't notice.

Gandalf however it seemed had noticed, though he didn't say anything and simply shook his head.
"That doesn't matter now, what matters is he is back, and all in one piece!"
"It matters!" Thorin insisted in a growl, stepping forward. "I want to know!" turning to face the hobbit he asked. "Why did you come back?"

[Assistant]
"Look, I know you doubt me. I know...I know you always have. And you're right, I often think of Bag End. I miss my books, and my arm chair, and my garden. See, that's where I belong. That's home. And that's why I came back, cause...you don't have one. A home. It was taken from you, but I will help you take it back if I can", Bilbo explained calmly to the group, and the fae couldn't help but curl a smile on her lips.

Azog and his warg army show up, seeing the group down the mountainside. "Run them down! Tear them to pieces!", he yelled in Black Speech to which Maleficent understood perfectly. A couple of wargs come running down the mountain, howling.

Maleficent's smile dissappeared when she saw the wargs coming. "Run. Run!", she started small until she raised her voice for them to hear. "Run with them, I'll catch up", she told the twins.

[User]
"But..." Kili began to protest though he couldn't finish his sentence as Fili grabbed his cloak and pulled him after the others who were already running behind Gandalf down the mountain.

However, they were then put in a predicament because they found that it soon ended in a cliff, and they had nowhere left to run to. Thinking quickly, Gandalf shouted to them.
"Climb the trees, quickly!"

[Assistant] As they continued to climb the tree, Fili was helping his brother climb, but the youngest almost lost his grip as the tree began to shake. The wargs were trying to knock the tree down! That wasn't going to help them at this rate, and getting wasn't an option! A warg managed to at least climb a little up the tree, but didn't get far. A female shout of Black Speech came to the creatures, and the fae aggressively collided and toppled one of them off the cliff that was below. Knowing that it wasn't over yet, the female charged back and hit one of the riders head-on.

[User]
Bilbo had been forced to stop, by sheer luck managing to stab the Warg that had chased him through the head, killing it. However, his sword then got stuck in the creature's skull and he had to brace his foot against it to be able to pull it back out. By then all the others were up in the branches of the tree, and the pack was still advancing.
"Oh dear..."

[Assistant] "Do you smell it? The scent of fear? I remember your father reeked of it, Thorin son of Thrain", Azog taunted as he looked upon Thorin. "It cannot be", the dwarven Prince was softly astonished. "That one is mine. Kill the others!", the wargs continued to jump up to catch the dwarves as they hung off the trees. "Drink their blood!", Maleficent was just in mid-flight to swing back around until she was forced to stop when seeing her godsons dangle on the tree, holding on for dear life.

[User]
Fili, Kili, Dwalin and Bilbo were forced to jump from the tree they had been sitting in into the next one across when the wargs pulled that one up by the roots and it started to collapse. Before long, all thirteen dwarves, plus the wizard and hobbit, were all squashed into the top branches of one tree, which was starting to fall off the edge of the cliff.

As Ori fell backwards out of the tree, Nori lunged to try and grab him, but fell out himself, crying out. "Mr Gandalf!!"
Gandalf quickly stuck out his staff, which the dwarf could grab on to, and kept a hold of it, with Ori hanging tightly onto Nori's boot. They were safe, for now.

[Assistant] Maleficent knew that they won't be able to stay on the tree for long as it dangled over the edge. Instead of her charging at the wargs, she had to support her friends in current distress. In order to prevent more weight, she lightly landed on the dangling tree like a feather, and carefully traced herself towards her godsons, having the urge to comfort them and tell them that the situation was worth dying together for. Minus that part, she just had to help them. The tree continuing to creak, it made another sudden jolt downward as the wood kept itself connected to the stump. She managed to hold her balance as she trailed the bark, but the jolt almost made her lose it.

[User]
It was at that moment that Thorin had stood from where he had been perched near the bottom of the tree, raised Orcrist, and charged down the trunk directly towards Azog.

"Thorin!!" Kili and Fili had shouted after him, they could not reach him to go to his aid, only watch in horror as Azog kicked the warg into a run and hit the dwarf prince with a powerful swing of the mace he held in his hand, sending Thorin crashing to the ground.
"Thorin, no..." Balin breathed softly as he too watched, only praying that Thorin would get up again.

[Assistant] Maleficent couldn't believe that Thorin would do such a thing. An opportunity that could result in death. He shouldn't and couldn't die now. She looked at her godsons and then back to the wounded Thorin. She made an exasperated sigh before standing on the tree. "Azog!", she shouted. "Why kill another of the Durin blood, when I have already killed another?!", she exclaimed at him before hovering above the fire. "Spare him, and let me take the fall", she challenged as she landed on the ground a few yards away from the orc.

[User]
"Foolish fae!" Azog spat at Maleficent. "One is not enough, I want them all dead!" Turning sideways to the orc beside him, he muttered. "Bring me the dwarf's head."

The orc grinned maliciously and advanced towards Thorin, who tried weakly to reach for Orcrist that he had dropped, but he was too weak and instead just lay there, preparing to accept his fate.

With a loud shout, Bilbo charged at the orc, and stabbed it repeatedly until it died, swinging Sting back and forth as he stood between Thorin and Azog. The dwarf prince just managed to stay conscious long enough to see Bilbo come to his rescue, but then passed out...

[Assistant] Maleficent flew to the unconcious Thorin and shielded him. "Thank you, master Baggins", she whispered to the Hobbit before tracing the dwarven prince's face with a finger cuff, moving his Raven black hair out of the way. Looking up at Azog, she didn't pay attention when a warg bit into her feathered wing, making her let out a loud pained screech, before the creature threw her towards the falling tree, landing near the twins.

[User]
Bilbo lunged for the warg to try and defend Maleficent but wasn't quick enough to stop it from throwing her into the tree first. The hobbit gulped and braced himself to be torn to bits as Azog and his white warg began to advance towards him and Thorin.

However, at that moment a great eagle swooped from the sky and picked Bilbo up, dropping him off the edge of the cliff where he landed on the back of another eagle. It then went back to pick up Maleficent since her wing was probably too injured for her to fly straight away. More eagles dove out of the sky, some attacking the wargs and orcs whilst others picked up the dwarves and Gandalf out of the trees to fly them to safety.

[Assistant] All the fae felt was something lifting her up from where she laid. A great eagle picked her and flew among the others as they crossed mountains and plains. She wasnt awake, but she was aware that this was an eagle pulling them to safety. "Thorin!", she heard Fili shout, as he sounded obviously terrified of what condition his uncle was in. Barely awake, she did manage to look at the unconcious Prince, until she let out a relieved sigh before slipping back into unconsciousness.

[User]
The eagles carried them to the Carrock, which overlooked the plains where the skinchanger Beorn made his home, and set them down there, before flying back to their eyrie. They could not carry them any further, the men that lived in these parts were afraid of the giant birds and would shoot at them if they saw them.

"Thorin!" Kili repeated as he started to run towards his uncle, but he was stopped as Gandalf knelt beside the dwarf prince and muttered something elvish under his breath, passing his hand over the dwarf's face. Thorin suddenly gasped and opened his eyes.
"Where's the...hobbit...and the...fae?" he managed to cough out.
"It's alright, Thorin. They're both here, and quite safe." Gandalf reassured him.

[Assistant] Maleficent was set down carefully upon the rock, while laying on her back with her head laid sideways. Her injured wing twitched as some of the feathers were missing from the bite. Finally being able to open her yellow-green eyes, she was semi-conscious, but a little. When she tried to get up, all that was heard from her was a groan of pain from the injury.

[User] "Are you alright?" now that he knew his uncle was okay, Kili left Thorin and raced to Maleficent's side.

[Assistant] "Just...an unexpected bite from a warg. I'm fine", she softly reassured him. Glad that he and his brother were okay, the fae still had faith that what she did, was worth protecting them. Risking her own life to save their own, and the result was getting her wings in proper pain. "You're all safe, that's what matters", she added before moving a strand of Raven black hair from his face with a gentle smile that looked motherly.


[System]
Age: 18 (Totes 18 in Dragon years.)

Height: 5'6 in Human Guise, 8 foot tall and 16 foot long as a Dragon.
Species: Chinese Dragon.

Character Image:

[User]
The Prince of the Fae indeed.

No self-respecting Prince would be caught dead in the attire of paupers and street-beggars, whoever this person was, his commands meant very little to a rugged guard, but inspired something a little more in the victim who was already trying to crawl towards the sea. He took it all back, the wishing to experience life beyond the brine, the desire to meet others that he would perhaps better relate to-- the world that he did not belong to was no less vicious than his own, tide-commanding mother, who was mere meters away. He didn't want whatever a 'Doctor' was, he wanted to crawl into a cavern and wither. At the very least, he required a quiet place to recuperate-- as many animals often did. Every half-effort shuffle was a few inches closer to the water-side, hand-outstretched to her gentle encouragement. What was he thinking, running away like that? He should have just returned... yes, that would have been the smart thing to do.

"I do believe the palace Doctor is a little too high-brow for the likes of a pauper and his little pet spy, eh?"

The clubbed piece of wood swung all the more, this time, at the Prince himself.

"No..." There was no way Sindre could have mustered enough strength to take or dissuade the brunt of another swing, pinkened-reds merely stared through half-opened lids, helpless, pathetic as he had always thought himself to be. Even now, he couldn't protect another. Blood filled his senses, awakened his olfactory senses and even inspired the faint lick of his lips. Blood... and he was so, so very hungry, how unfair was fate when she tempted him with a meal. He had fangs, vaguely translucent and curved, much like a serpent-- and no less so, for his predatory canine's contained potent venom, a paralysing agent, perfect for underwater meal-time.

No, no this was Prince Amanti.

He couldn't.

He wouldn't. He'd promised himself. When had it last been that blood had dripped from those pale lips? Not blood of piscene or natural prey, the blood of a humanoid, a drowning passenger, a stranded sailor, an unfortunate swimmer-- all of them were fair play to a creature who struggled to hunt competitively. Morals be damned when creatures of the deep decided to hunger. A spurt of desperation saw the creature grasp for a guard's leg-- but it was far too fatigued. By now, more had came-- some with winces, for they new that the Prince was indeed as he had proclaimed, royalty.

Whispers carried between royal protectors, someone would have to call the Doctor-- and quickly, less their comrade's mistake dearly cost him. Two of the men-- since none of the Palace's servants seemed to be Dragons at all, given their eyes-- stepped forwards to help take hold of Prince and Mer, gentle, so as to not endanger their jobs or lives. The mer-thing was uneasy on his legs, certainly, they wobbled and struggled to remain upright, for it was a lanky, tall being when not weighed down by the muscular appendage that was his tail. Blood trickled very slowly, pieces of glass that had spiked into him during the escape-- but the wounds were superficial. The hits to his cranium, however, were still to be determined.

"Take them to Lei, he'll know what treatment is the best course of action... hopefully we'll keep our jobs after this." Lei, a doctor, and one who excelled in his job-- and perhaps the oldest resident in the Palace. Not often seen, but revered none-the-less. He wasn't as trying as Emperor and Son-- likely because he was no longer apart of ruling the Dragons. Medicine was his truer passion, not politics, and it was back into the marbled Kingdom that the staff intended to schlep Amanti and his latest gift, apologies presented like welcoming mats to the Fae. No wonder, they didn't want to lose their employment or organs once word got out of this. Lei would be able to fix this... hopefully Emperor Yao would take it better from his elder, for what happened upon the beach was nothing if not pure embarrassment to the Kingdom staff, and by default, to Yao. That thought alone was sobering. Dragged across sand and grass, the albino mer, whom had caused this trouble to begin with, attempted to converse with what little sense the bludgeoning had left in his head. "Wassn't... running away... wass... ssomeone... wass calling me.." He had to let Prince Amanti know. He had never intended to flee, but someone upon the beach had caught his interest-- whoever they were, he hardly even saw by the time he'd reached the shore.

[Assistant]
Wood wasn't supposed to hurt him. He knew of the wood fae that lived within the trees of the forest, they respected him enough he would believe, but he must have caused them some form of impeachment. His vision flashed white, then brown as he turned his head up almost in time to receive the blow. His ears rang, deaf to the mocking snub from the guard as he felt the sand cushion his fall. And faintly, he heard the softest chuckle graze his eardrum before the world swam around him. Damn the heart of this world should he lose consciousness though. One blow wouldn't be enough to condemn this planet though.

 Blinking away the muddy sand from his lashes, he shook his head and pressed one palm into the fickle surface and pushed himself back up. White grains of sand clinging to his hair, hidden amongst the golden locks. His eyes blazed even beneath his shut eyelids, the light seeping through like sunlight from a curtained window. Burning to the unfortunate bedridden individual, piercing like high beams through the darkness as he stared down at the sand burying his fingers. The cool air was choked with the grittiness of the grains scraping his throat, but all the same he inhaled and exhaled, slowly and surely as if he had to make sure each breath of air was monitored comprehensively to avoid filling his lungs with too much or not enough.

 The soft rasp from the forgotten creature drew his attention. His shoulders slumping as he toned down the brightness and heat he was emitting, taking in the weedy nature that was a direct product only from the thrashing of the guard. His fingers curled in the sand, what gave anyone the right to reduce another to this state? If not for the soft footfalls trekking over the sand, the single guard stood before them would know just how lucky he was to have avoided what might've been.

 As the rest of the guard came to surround them, he lifted his head, refusing to let a single blow completely dislodge his senses even if the area around his forehead was feeling rather sore and tender at the moment and his vision was still blurred and indecisive. He refused to let a single blow dislodge all of his senses though, lifting his head to stare up at the stranger faces. Their garb no doubt revealed they were of the palace though and should Amanti choose to recognize any of them, they'd be in trouble from the cloth they dawned alone. That was the last thing on his mind now though.

 "Take, Take him to the doctor and see that he is tended to and given adequate meals. Let him eat on his own choice. I do not wish to hear complaints from him that you have mistreated a creature belonging to me."

 His own command was perhaps dampened by him having to be helped to his feet by another, his own foot still askew to a side so as to not to aggravate the raggedly bandaged wound. Refusing the wince as he listened to them prattle on worriedly in how they could possibly cover up such a blunder on their companion's part. Amanti didn't feel like speaking up and soothing their worries, for now he just wanted to be treated to this Dr "Lei" and for the night to end on a sleepless, hungry note. For now though, as long as they feared, they would follow his orders even if his own position held no real standing in this place other than as a 'guest of the Emperor."

 Limping besides the carried creature, his ears pricked at the raspy utterance the creature was trying to form into words, "Hush now, Sindre. You're going to be taken care off now, there isn't anything to worry about." He soothed, gazing at the Mer, eyes drawn to the bruises he had sustained during the brutal clobbering.

 He could no longer see the guard, but rest assured he would be well informed of his mistake.

 Again, Amanti pushed that out of his mind, glad to leave the dark unsure sand of the shore to the comparable warmth of the palace once more, letting himself be led by the guards, hoping that their entrance wouldn't arouse sleeping minds. Then again, who knew what was lurking within the walls?


[System]
Age/Gender: 30/Male

Nationality: Norwegian

Appearance:

Rank: Corporal

Preferred Role: Grenadier/Special Forces Operative

Brief Background: Born and raised on the countryside in eastern Norway, Erik was up for the compulsory military service of the Norwegian Armed Forced, though he was allowed to finish his studies in Maritime machine operator before being drafted. Once drafted, he was one of few draftees that enjoyed the military life and all it had to offer, and so he decided to stay. He soon found a longing for tougher challenges, and after serving in Afghanistan and peace-keeping operations outside the Somalian coast, he applied for the best the Norwegian army could offer: FSK, Forsvarets Spesialkommando. Everything about Erik afterwards was top-secret, even more so after his transfer to the so-called Task Force Zero.

Notes: (Any added info that doesn't fit elsewhere)

[User]
The helicopter descended slowly onto the landing pad on the fantail of the Ticonderoga-Class Guided Missile Cruiser. As soon the rotary wing aircraft was on the deck, the pilot shut the engines down and the US Naval personnel responsible for maintaining the ship's aircraft began lashing the bird to the mooring rings on the deck. This was to prevent the helicopter from being tossed overboard if the ship were to hit rough seas.

Sergeant Morse exited the aircraft and followed the other members of Alpha Team down the ladders, walkways and ramps, over the side and into the zodiac rubber boat at the water line. The waves were not rough, but enough to make the boat rise and fall a foot or two. Tyus took the stern position to operate the till at Captain Upton's direction. When the members of Alpha Team were loaded, Sergeant Morse guided the boat out away from the ship to wait for the Bravo Team. Once they were loaded the boats raced towards the shoreline. Sergeant Morse kept his eyes on Captain Upton to receive guidance on direction and speed.

After concealing the rubber boat in some bushes and covering with palm branches, the team moved out towards its primary Observation Post (OP). The team trekked through rough jungle terrain, up and down hills, all the while sweating their asses off. Roughly one hour later, a silent hand and arm signal communicated a halt. The team was at their OP and time to set up.

Captain Upton assigned sectors for the team members to observe and secure a perimeter. One member would face the rear to observe anyone approaching from that direction. Sergeant Morse had been using his AN/PVS-14 Night Vision sights since they left the ship. He was accustomed to the greenish hues providing him images of what was in front of him. There was no sign of their suspected opposition known as the Valkyrie Network last known to be operating here in Indonesia. He grasped his SCAR 17, placing it on the ground in front of him while laying in the prone position.

In whispered tones, Sergeant Morse conducted a radio check with the Combat Information Center (CIC) aboard the USS George Washington. This was to insure they had radio communications with the ship that would provide Close Air Support (CAS) if the need should arise. The radio check was successful and SGT Morse advised the CIC there were no requests at this time. The last word, Dash received from the Team Commander, Captain Upton was there would probably not be a need for it. But as everyone who has ever been in combat knows, it is better to have and not need than to need and not have. Have you ever met a soldier in a firefight who had too much ammunition?

---

Sergeant Czerepusko followed Corporal Thatcher and the Bravo Team to their Zodiac. The Alpha team's craft pulled away and waited for the B Team to load up. Once the two were loaded, they sped off in the direction of some unspoken Indonesian island. Romek, also known as Scooter had no clue where he was.

Once they were ashore at their insertion point and the rubber boat, concealed, the Sniper Team, now known as Team Sigma donned their Ghillie Suits. They followed the B Team lead by Chief Bastion on the way to their pre-designated Observation Positions (OP). Team Sigma broke off from Merlin's team more than a kilometer before they reached their OPs. With his Bor rifle secured to his back, Romek kept the Mini-Beryl carbine slung high under his right arm, ready to use if needed.

Upon reaching OP Charlie, Corporal Thatcher found a suitable firing platform. Sergeant Czerepuszko set up near a tree. He crawled into position, extended the bipods on his Bor Rifle and stored the carbine. He looked down the sites using the AN/PVS-14 Night Vision sights. From where he lay, he could see several potential contacts. He made a mental range card of various objects within his field of view. Most of the items on his range card spread from six hundred to nine hundred meters. He counted no fewer than fifteen potential hostiles either standing still or moving about in his field of vision.

"You are right about the views, Wraith," Sergeant Romek Czerepuszko responded. Romek actually enjoyed listening to the New Zealand accent. It was pleasing to his ears. He found understanding the South Pacific Islander quite easy. "I am ready to fire," Scooter responded to Wraith. Then he keyed his throat mic, "Eagle, this is Scooter. Team Sigma in position. Eyes on target. I count fifteen hostiles. Weapons Hold, over." Sergeant Czerepuszko informed the Team Commander, Captain Upton that the sniper team arrived at OP Charlie, were ready for the next phase of their operation. He could see 15 potential targets in his field of vision and that he would not open fire until told to do so. There are three weapons statuses: Hold, Tight and Fee. Hold means to not fire until ordered to do so; tight means do not fire unless fired upon and free means fire on any confirmed enemy target in your field of vision.

[Assistant] Breach closely followed behind Sergeant Morse as he led through the mission. She kept her weapon drawn and steady as she walked behind him, being prepared for anything that happened. Of course she had her uzi out due to it being just a safer situation to use it at close range, and a giant explosion would probably cause a lot of commotion which would cause this mission to pretty much be screwed. It was a fair trek before the group stopped at their OP and set up their base. Breach understood what was up and took the rear with her grenade launcher equipped, a set of generic night-vision goggles on her face, and her clothes covered in muck. On the ground she stared around at the environment and very carefully tried to not give away the position the group was in, but she couldn't help but be a bit jumpy with the occasional animal running past and the illusion of it being a hostile. Thank God she kept the safety on when she tried shooting a fox. Eventually, Breach calmed down and wasn't as jumpy, and waited for the moment where things went to shit and she could use her explosive friend. Hushedly, she spoke out to her squad mates: "Awaiting orders..."

[User]
"Copy that Wizard. Hold position" Upton said as he resumed scanning the front of the base, looking for something to cause enough of a distraction to give Bravo time to move. The front of the base was eerily quiet. Both guard towers were unmanned, ditto for the gate checkpoint. In fact, JB could only see a single guard, leaning against the corner of the large building that dominated most of the base's interior, at least up on this end.

'Before anything else, we need visual confirmation' he thought, setting his sights on what appeared to be a large propane tank poked away around a far corner 'Not that they'd need it in this weather'

"Sigma, scan those hostiles again, any of 'em stand out to you? Different ethnicity or maybe someone who looks like they're in charge? We need confirmation Primary Target or Targets are in the base before we even bother to engage. Over"

----

"Joker here, we're camped up about 60 meters back from the trail. The grunts stopped at an outpost, little more than a checkpoint you'd pass in the road... except there's no road anywhere around. We have a clear line to ghost them, advise. Over"

He looked across at Viking and whispered to his squadmate.
"Anything silent on ya? Left mine at home, gonna have to get up close with the knife if we get the order"

[Assistant]
"Sigma, scan those hostiles again, any of 'em stand out to you? Different ethnicity or maybe someone who looks like they're in charge? We need confirmation Primary Target or Targets are in the base before we even bother to engage. Over"

Romek listened to Captain Upton's voice. He focused his eye on the Leupold Scope to get a better look at the occupants of the base. He scanned each individual in his field of vision that he could see. After scanning for more than several seconds he came to an obvious conclusion. Of the fifteen combatants he was looking at, there were obvious differences in two different races of people.

He counted ten soldiers who all stood roughly five feet to five feet six inches in height. They had lightly tanned flesh, black hair and Asian almond shaped eyes. Their uniforms were the same camouflage pattern used by members of the Indonesian Army, but none wore the Indonesian flag on the right shoulder or the name tapes over the breast pockets. Their uniforms appeared worn and old. These soldiers carried an assortment of Russian and Chinese built small arms and wore Chinese made jungle hats. A few were unshaven and none appeared as though they were currently serving in the Indonesian Army. They did appear as though they may be veterans of the local military but currently spending their time as rebel insurgents.

The second group of people he could identify numbered at least five and appeared closer to home for the Polish Paratrooper. They were all between five foot nine and six foot five in height. Their flesh was pale white. Two of them wore full beards and mustaches. Two wore camouflaged jungle hats, one wore a light blue beret and the other two wore olive drab bandannas tied in a knot at the back of the head. They also carried Russian built small arms. The camouflage uniforms they wore were slightly different from their local insurgent counterparts working with them. As an Eastern European, Romek thought the uniforms were the same as those used by Russian Infantry, but then noticed something strange about them. It was quite possible this group originated from Southern Russia near the border with Georgia or Azerbaijan. 'Chechens?' Romek thought to himself. 'What the fuck would Chechens be doing on a South Pacific Island?'

"Eagle, this is Scooter, I can identify ten local insurgents clad in the same camouflage uniforms worn by the Indonesian Army, minus the standard identifying patches of active soldiers; possibly Indonesian veterans. Another five appear to be Eastern European; possibly Chechens or Azerbaijanis, wearing Russian Camouflage uniforms. They appear to be experienced hard core troops who have seen action, over." Romek was slightly nervous about this revelation. He knew, if these guys were Russians or Chechen veterans, they would not role over on them. They would fight to the death. 'Who the fuck is this Valkyrie Syndicate anyway?' Romek thought to himself in Russian. He figured if he was going to be working against Russians or Chechens he should freshen up his Russian.