[System]
"The surface is a mere allusion, the true marvel is what lingers underneath."
Gender
"I am beyond the constraints of such titles."

Age
Appears to be in very early twenties

Appearance
To describe Dawn's appearance is a rather tricky task as they constantly alter it in some way or another. Their most constant, or rather favored, appearance is that of a slenderly built individual with shockingly pale skin. Their hair is raven black and long, save for the left side where it is shaved close to the skin. Their eyes are usually a deep crimson red with the whites of their eyes being pitch black. They have a series of tattoos that cover their body, the most prominent of which is that of their clan symbol that is located over their heart. Their attire is what one would expect from today's youth, tight fitting pants, sleeveless tops, and countless piercings along with scarves and a pair of thick rimmed glasses. Depending on their mood Dawn is known to alter their body to loose their gender ambiguous appearance, adoupting either more masculine of feminine attributes.

Clan
Tzimisce
"Those true monsters that stalk the nightmares of Kind and Kindred alike."

Disciplines
Vicissitude
2

Koldunic Sorcery
1

Animalism
0

Auspex
0

Backstory
"I find the more I tell this story the ever more tedious it grows. I mean honestly why is it in these nights full of such wondrous beauty and achievement the only thing ever spoken of is the past? It is painfully absurd that so many put so much stock into it. What we used to be doesn't matter, why should it? The miserable kine that I transcended from wasn't worthy enough to lick the scum off of my shoe little alone be bothered talking about. It was such a sniveling insignificant creature, the thought still leaves the taste of bile in my mouth. The insect believed it was truly happy living its pathetic life, living in squalor in the slums of the city barely surviving by making money as a tattoo 'artist', and I use that term as loosely as possible. It is nauseating just to think about it, but it is to my fortune that this all changed with her. She was so beautiful, so refined, so... perfect. She, by some miracle, saw the sliver of potential that was in that horrid human and took such a great pity on it. She embraced that scum and gave birth to a being so much greater, me. Where that wretched kine was the dull, flavorless night I am the Dawn of a better day. I have spent years upon years under the tutelage of my sire honing my talents in the art of sculpting flesh and bone, Vicissitude. I now yearn to but my teachings to the test in this city, to make it truly beautiful."

Personality
Dawn on the surface is a sensual individual, almost on par of that of a Toreador. They have a fascination with the body, breaking what would normally consider personal space boundaries with little thought. They have an appreciation for art in all forms, be it music, painting, and especially body modification. But Dawn's true nature is much more sinister. They truly enjoy their undead state, they revel in their power, and they love manipulating both kine and kindred alike, both mentally and physically.

Derangements
Sadist

Personal Goals
To create the next great monster that will go down in legend

View on humans
Kine are merely blank canvases that await an artist, like myself, to turn them into something grand.

Extras
Dawn prefers to be referred to as a it or they rather than him or her.

[User]
Erinion was pouting as she closed in on the group. She didn't liked the docks to begin with. The soft glimmering of the night lights reflected from the river's surface were a nice add-on to the view from here apartment, so she was alright with rivers being there, sparkling from far away. But she'd never willingly come here. Homeless, young and old, beggars, workers... All mortals. All mortals that didn't interested her in the slightest. They were all just so..."Boring." And now, instead of looking after what was hers, she had to be here, lingering among them like she was some sort of dog forced to roll over at one command from the Prince.
"One, two, three."
Smoothing her hair and brushing off the bangs covering her eyes, Erinion tiptoed to the odd looking group and gave her best to listen. "The Prince of lies." The reason she was here was as simple as reasons can get - death wasn't in Erinion's plans. Avoiding it meant being here so she eventually listened to the black-hooded creature and strolled down to this filthy part of the city.
"Two, three, four, five."
Playing with the thought of scurrying away back to her business she was so impolitely turned away from, Erinion swayed back and forth a few times giving her best to stay put.

"I just wanted to check on it." The two exchanging words before left slightly unsettling aura in the air but Dawn seemed nice enough, so she spoke right after her leaving little to no time for anyone else to jump in. "Make sure I'll get my painting, you know. But then the hoodie came and said I have to be... here." Honesty is sometimes "Never." the best policy and all, but Erinion figured that a short sigh would suffice to display enough of her displeasure, still not knowing who was in the Prince's fan club.
"Manners lovely, were are your manners. Greet them."
"And I didn't want to swim with the fishies, I don't like fishies." She added, a soft frown still framing her face.

"The Queen of rats." Erinion stepped forward and preformed a graceful curtsey before Margarita. They were a strange bunch, made to stop what was about to happen by hiding in the darkness of a very wet, awful smelling place. But sometimes you just have to go with the flow and the best way to start is often a proper greeting.
"And Alex. Alex too." A quick salute was accompanied with a playful grin.
"One that fights, and the Daybreaker. Small vampire." Shooting a smile in their direction, Erinion pulled back to her place. "You may call me Erinion. Eri, if your tongue is troubled."
"Two, three, four, five."
"Five." She said letting her eyes glance over the Kindred before her. "Two, three, four. Five without me." Slowly counting down, Eri raised one finger after another while looking each of the vampires in the eyes. "Five against one. Five against thirty dead." Her lips stretched into a smile - there was a slight chance all of this could end up entertaining her. "And I mean dead dead. Not not dead." She chuckled softly at her explanation.

"The prince wants the Gift."
"The Jack of all trades seeks favours again."
Tilting her head ever so slightly, Erinion turned to the group. "Lady without a nose asked what do I have to offer."
"Favours that will never be repaid."
Manhunts, vampirehunts, any kind of hunts actually were never her specialty. The ones she chose ended up dead sooner or later, the only difference was did she felt like playing with them first.
"Told you, should've stayed home."
"Father speaks through all of us. When the time comes I might be able to share with you." As the sour odour lingering around the docks tickled her senses, Erinion shrugged. "Words spoken, and the ones not so much."
She let her eyes wander around the surroundings for a moment, sopping in all what was around her; the six of Kindred, the ever lingering scent of sludge twirling around them, annoying tapping of human footsteps on the docks, the dread that let her know she was bound to this task no matter the price.
"Two, three, four, five."
"Six." Erinion whispered.

[Assistant] Margarita's hollow eyes never left Alexander's, and her face drew grim at his craven remarks. "You shall find that secrecy within a coterie either finds the secret, or secretive revealed." She drawled commandingly, now moving her attention to the next speaker. A young childe, no older than her late teens. She took a few moments of melancholic remembrance for herself at such a tender age, but tossed such useless memories aside to better focus on the pressing matters at hand. The young girl didn't seem all too happy to attend the meeting, and her curt spitting of self-description did little to assist Margarita's first impression of her. Were all these Kindred so apt at alienating allies? She knew there was more to this girl than her simple advertisement of 'kicking butt'. Ignoring it for now, the Nosferatu nodded at the girl and followed next with a final "Fabulous." Her attention was then trounced by the Tzimisce. Her jarring appearance, as well as unsettling immediate mention of 'foolish rivalries' brought a curious bit of information to the Nosferatu. She stored it as she did everything else she interpreted, and studied her words as they drifted into her ears. The woman's name was remembered with the same scarring relevancy as it's literal meaning, and Margarita shifted her weight in a moment of mental anguish. Finally, there was one: the Malk. She was ready for anything to come out of this queer Kindred, and prepared herself for riddles and tongue-twisters. Having politely ignored her previous musings of veiled nonsense and ignorance, Margarita used calculated logic to attempt and deduce useful information from the Malkavian's insanity. Shortly after her concentration ended, "Words spoken, and the ones not so much," wormed it's way into her brain. Following a brief pause in conversation, the Nosferatu boomed her voice so that none missed a word of her lecture. "As I said before, secrecy in this coterie will not be tolerated. As the current situation prescribes the utmost danger for any of Kindred kind, I would recommend we all establish a proper domain for ourselves. Even further, a herd would be necessary for efficient feeding to propagate a more objective-focused environment for us. We're working as one now, despite how little any one of us might like it. Until the source of these grisly happenings is found, that's not changing. I hope you're all familiar with the phrase, 'clear as a crystal', for I'll accept none less." Her judgmental gaze glowered at the group, waiting for one of the Kindred to misspeak and offer a rude remark, or snide comment about any facet of the operation. She was sure the Prince would back her up.


[System]
Oshea Jackson

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Character Summary
Aliases:  Rocket
Age: 19
Birthday: 06/12/1999
Birth Place: West Baltimore, Maryland.
Gender: Male.
Powers: Super Speed/Speedster.
Affiliation: X-Men.

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Appearance
Height: 6'1.
Weight: 200.
Build: Slim, lean build.
Eyes: Mocha brown.
Hair: Black.
Skin Tone: Dark.
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings:None.
Personal Style: He often wears jean shorts and red Converse with some kind of sports jersey partisan to various professional sports teams. His favorite jersey to wear is a New England Patriots jersey. He has an assortment of different color converse he wears at any given time. He may often wear mismatch color converse. He can often be seen with several fitted caps representing different sports teams as well.

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Psychology
Fast thinker * Unitdy * Unselfish * Impulsive * Introspective * Lacks foresight

Sexuality: Heterosexual.
Relationship Status: Single.
Personality: Oshea is untidy, an ode to his roots in Baltimore's slums. He cares not for order of any kind, but he will listen to those who are in a position of leadership. Otherwise, he is rather unfocused and does not do well with controlling his mind or thoughts--this is possibly because they move too fast for him to have a decisive grasp over. He does his best to focus on one task at a time but often cannot; he is exceeds when tasked with multiple things at once.

Despite his lack of mental focus, Oshea is quite introspective. He possesses a lot of intangible traits: charisma, leadership, intuition, confidence. Oshea can be impulsive, and will sometimes act brash in dangerous situations. This does not mean he will not think about his actions while he is doing something, rather that he will not relent from doing something after he has committed himself to whatever path he has chosen.
Habits: He is untidy and he does not enjoy order in the slightest sense.
Hobbies: Running. Collecting shoes. Placing bets. Collecting sports jerseys. Cooking.
Fears:
* Guns.
* Returning to poverty.
* Being too slow or too late.

Likes:
* Junk food.
* Lots of colors.
* Drawing.
* Video games.
* Building things.
* Girls.

Dislikes: 6 minimal
* Bullies.
* Roaches.
* Egotistical people.
* Inequality.
* Moral discrimination.
* Being alone.

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Cards On The Table
General World Skills: Max 6
* Cooking.
* Driving.
* Good with directions and understanding an environment.
* Deciphering intentions.
* Reading body language.
* Eating.

Combat Skills:
* Hand-to-hand skills (boxing).
* Fighting dirty.

Possessions:
This is generally the list of items that you own, just list your characters possessions.
* A keychain with his friend's face on it.
* Black 8 oz boxing gloves.
* Red goggles.
* Wallet.
* Art supplies (colored pencils, markers, paintbrushes, etc)
* An assortment of 90s rap albums.
* An assortment of underground rap albums.
* Several kinds of Hostess' junk foods.
* A red watch.
* A cape.

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History
How did you discover your powers: Like other mutants, his powers showed themselves in spurts once he hit puberty. It was not until a run-in with the neighborhood bullies that his powers reared themselves in full. Across all of Baltimore there are gangs, organizations who war with one another for control over money and lucrative pipelines for selling product. While Oshea himself was never involved in gangs or drugs, he residency as a Fayette Avenue inhabitant marked him as an enemy of nameless and faceless kids from warring neighborhoods.

One day, Oshea was getting off of the bus that dropped him off on the corner several blocks from his house--and right in the heart of enemy territory. He was soon approached by seven kids of varying sizes and dispositions--each of whom asked no questions and immediately began trying to punish him over a trivial categorical difference: where he lived. But Oshea had ran before, he had ran his entire life--from death, from being perceived as "soft", from guidance; so it was easy for him to run again--and he did. Time slowed, everyone else was standing still and he was moving at inhuman speeds.

Why did you choose the side that you did?: Where Oshea grew up, there was little hope. On the corner of Fayette Avenue, Oshea was privy to every social more in a poverty stricken area: drugs, gangs, violence, betrayal. His love for superheroes and his idolization of prominent figures Charles Xaver and Bishop brought him great solace while trying to survive the city's worst. When his mutant abilities came to fruition, he was soon brought to the Xavier Institute and vowed to use his newfound abilities to fight the horrors he had seen in his own neighborhood.

General History: Born and raised in Baltimore, Oshea never had an easy life. While both of his parents were present in his life, his father worked two jobs and his mother worked as a babysitter at night. For much of his adolescence, Oshea was alone and could have easily shared the fate of many of his peers: in jail, addicted to drugs, or dead. He pre-occupied himself with the arts: reading, writing, painting, music. These all served as suitable outlets for him to express himself in ways less nefarious than the streets. It was in this that Oshea developed a strong independence and reliance on himself.

He grew up fast and learned to provide for himself from an early age. Nights where neither of his parents were home he would prowl Baltimore on the hunt for any scraps of food he could find, often posing as a hobo in hopes of garnishing the sympathy of the occasional well-to-do patron on the finer side of Baltimore where project buildings gave way to high-rises and nice cars. It was this trickery that honed Oshea's skills as a hustler and master of deception. With what food and loose change he could hustle from some charitable soul, Oshea would bought more art supplies to further his craft. He graduated from painting on canvas to painting murals, from writing poetry to performing it locally. He became somewhat of a recognizable face around his neighborhood and was one of few kids to rise above circumstances given to him.

He was certainly not infallible. What little fame he garnered from his art also gained him enemies. He spent many days defending himself from bullies and kids from rival neighborhoods. As such, he used the few hundred dollars he got from the poetry slams to fund boxing lessons for himself at a local gym. It was there that he learned to strike, defend, maneuver, and knock-out the finest amateurs in his neighborhood. For a time (before he attended Xavier's) he turned semi-pro, and had five total fights in which he went 3-2. A nasty head injury from his final fight marked his retirement from amateur boxing, though he has yet to put down the gloves completely.

Since he has been at Xavier's, he has developed a bond with many of the newer and incoming students and often offers advice and guidance to them. He especially tries to mentor the kids who come from disadvantageous backgrounds much like himself. Recently, he was invited to join the resident X-Men team as part of its new generation of young mutants and he vows to use his powers alongside his peers to bring peace to the world at large. Oshea is determined to someday become a teacher at the Institute and he also hopes one day to have a comic book penned after him. Most of all, Oshea wants to serve as a hero worthy of the title and serve as someone kids can look up to much like Oshea did when he was young.

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Extras
Character Quote: "I just run 'til I can't run anymore."
Theme Song: Army of the Godz
Anything Else: Bishop. Create-A-Superhero 2

*By submitting this CS in its completion I am stating I have read all the rules for this Rp and am agreeing to follow them to the fullest with respect and courtesy. I acknowledge that I can and will be removed from the RP without warning if I break a rule or cause problems with my fellow Rpers or the GM.

[User]
Damon Fawkes
Damon watched Carolina stand after he hefted her up with ease. He noted the blushing, but had no idea why she was blushing. Was the situation that embarrassing? He had no idea and it was confusing to him. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck at the thanks and shrugged in response, though his sleeve probably moved showing more of the dragon tattoo on his arm. A tattoo that was probably still coiling around him with an odd lively sort of energy. He was clearly not going to be saying much now. He pulled his hand away and tried not to look too awkward.

Damon gave a slight nod at the introduction. He inhaled and decided to introduce himself back...it was only polite. "Damon Fawkes" He looked at her hand before taking it and shaking it. He then released it and dropped the hand. He wondered how much social interaction he could handle. Probably not a ton today.

[Assistant]
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Ayita Dyrkin

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Location Hanson Power Plant
{"Oh, my. Live prey."}

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Ayita had not gone more than a handful of feet before her now alert senses caught sight of Oshea coming from the direction she was intending to head in. The shortest route away from this girl and people in general had turned into the route that was sure to have her run into people. The amber eyes woman bit back a snarl. Oshea was not deserving of that. She was merely on edge after having been startled, something she rather disliked.

Taking a glance back to see if that route was clear yet, noting Damon's lack of words. He wasn't one to talk much she had noted. Not to the level she was, but someone who wasn't so involved with incessant chatter of the school was nice to be around. Glancing at the speedster, she did wonder what he had to say. Her wound was definitely on the mend. Still it was scabbed over, bound up in bandages and healing secretly. Oshea, however, was slower than usual. The predator inside of her noted this, and saw a wounded bit of prey. Not to eat. She was sated, and had no desire for that. But to stalk, pounce and bat about. Slowly, she moved adjusting herself to more fully see and move towards Oshea. Her steps becoming a slink as she felt her body tense for the pounce. Ayita swore she had the phantom limb of a tail twitching back and forth. Watching Oshea with a oddly interested look, completely out of character for her.


[System]
*Universe: Super Mario
*Appearance:
*Personality: If there's one thing that Donkey Kong undeniably loves, it's bananas. Donkey Kong adamantly adores bananas, and will stop at nothing to protect the Kong family's banana hoard and the beautiful island on which the animals run free... and the bananas grow sweet. DK is a heroic ape, though sometimes his hypos get up and this is when he gets in a bit of trouble with Mario; he is a passionate gorilla and as such would often kidnap Pauline much like his grandfather did. Outside of trouble, Donkey Kong is laid-back, choosing to chill in his treehouse hammock with his pal Diddy Kong.
*Powers/Skills: The first member of the DK Crew, Donkey Kong is bigger, faster, and stronger too. Donkey Kong can pick up and throw heavy objects due to his gorilla strength. DK is agile and can swing through trees, roll on the ground, and run quickly, while still maintaining a high degree of power.

In terms of offensive skills, Donkey Kong relies on brute force, preferring to punish his foes with his fists if diplomacy goes down the drain. Though from long-range, he will pick up the nearest heavy object and throw it; traditionally this has been barrels.
*Brief Bio: Donkey Kong, Jr., more widely-known as Donkey Kong, is the grandson of the original Donkey Kong, now known as the elder Cranky Kong. (Try not to think of the time too much; this is Mario World.) Donkey Kong is the hero and leader of Donkey Kong Island, and an adventurous spirit. If he is hurt, he is angry, and seeks justice through his own means. Usually, DK Island is plagued by the attacks of King K. Rool and his Kremling kronies, but DK and his buddies always rise to the challenge and drive off the Kremling Krew's nefarious schemes. Lately, Donkey Kong Island has nearly fallen to two other fearsome foes: the Tiki Tak Tribe, a gang of sentient tribal instruments who wanted to take over DK Island, and the Snowmads, a gang of Antarctic Viking warrior-animals who also wanted to take over DK Island. Both times, DK drove them off. Often, DK would be invited to participate in Mario's various sports tournaments; despite DK's occasional mischief, there seems to be no bad blood between them. The mighty Kong is quite a match in tennis, kart-racing, baseball, and other sports. After the Snowmad incident, DK thought that he would finally have some time to relax, but soon after, he found himself whisked away from Donkey Kong Island...
*Equipment: His coconut gun, which can fire in spurts. If he shoots ya, it's gonna hurt.
*Others: I'd shower you with coconut cream pies.

[User]
Garie - Yellow Flag

The Autoscorer had wandered a bit around after her first encounter, confirming that the memories she had gotten weren't faulty or anything like that. With the situation she was in, she could take no chances. And as well, she wanted to confirm that all the damage from the fight she had been in was repaired, which it seemed to be. That would certainly make things easier for her, and with it confirmed she moved on.

But at the same time, she was taking what she could from those memories. Important people, places, things like that. And she found one, ironically near where she was at the moment. A woman, scarred, with a military coat, who seemed to be important in some regard. Well, it couldn't hurt to meet the powerful people, see if any could promise as good a time as SONG did.

So she walked on, moving down the street at a good clip as she headed towards her destination. She knew it like the back of her hand, though it was still obvious that she was not a native, but that wouldn't be a problem as she at last arrived at where she had been aiming for. Time to meet this person.

Stepping inside, she found some sort of armed conflict going on already, involving the person she had come to see. "Well now, isn't this interesting," she noted to herself as she took up a position against the wall,suitably posed, to watch. It promised to be more than a bit amusing.

[Assistant]
Filia – Mahora Grounds

Still upbeat, Filia accepted Donkey Kong's banana and began to peel it. Almost without thinking she took a big bite, then broke off a piece and inexplicably pushed it beneath her hat. After the ape's introduction the focus passed to the enormous man, whose uncanny stature combined with a spotless and official yet distinctly unnerving appearance filled Filia with an acute sense of dread. This only heightened when he began to talk, speaking in a downright goofy voice and some how stretching his head while he was at it. The only possible explanation in her mind was that this Faust, too, hosted a grotesque and powerful parasite. If so, he didn't deserve her fear, but her sympathy. To her knowledge, Filia was one of the luckier ones. While she didn't trust Faust at all, as was prudent with any parasite-host duo, she did acknowledge his attempt to be cordial, and offered in return her hospitality. "Well, that's okay. It's only a matter of time. Nice to meet you too!" She took Faust's hand.

Meanwhile, more people were arriving. Filia was so preoccupied with sizing them up that she didn't notice Krieg's meltdown until he'd already pulled the trigger, and the ensuing clamor scared Filia badly. She leaped backward, yelping, and her hat ejected from her head. With all eyes on Krieg, though, Samson almost certainly escaped anyone's notice as he grabbed the flying hat with tendrils of hair and pulled it back on. Though the chaos, Filia managed to take note of Reimu, but the middle of a potential problem wasn't the right time to say hi and answer her question.

A moment later, another new arrival to the scene straight-up attacked Krieg to subdue the perceived threat. While nearly anyone was preferably to a masked psycho with a slew of weapons at his zany fingertips, the merciless and obviously supernatural precision and brutality with which Ranma dealt with Krieg made her think twice about immediately thinking of him as an ally. Though she winced, Filia failed to flinch or otherwise recoil, hinting that while she appeared to be one of the most mundane ones here, she in fact had experience with the strange and dangerous. Over the last few weeks, Filia had repeatedly found out the truth behind Samson's words: Trust nobody, 'specially not the ones that look trustworthy. And yet, it was this warlike peacekeeper that suggested moving elsewhere to find answers. Though Filia had been thinking about mentioning the possibility of asking the locals, she hadn't found the right moment to slip her suggestion into the general tumult of questions and introductions.

Therefore, despite her misgivings, Filia found herself agreeing with Ranma. "Food sounds good. Some kind of clue would be even better. It looks like none of us really know what's going on, so asking the city folk might be a good way to start." Confidently, she began to walk in the direction of the cable cars.

"Careful, kid. These people are way dangerous. I can smell 'em. You feel threatened at all, I'll come out swingin'." A gruff whisper came from beneath her cap. Filia could tell, however, that he'd liked the banana, and only now realized that she might have given him away. "Alright, I will."

DIO – Hotel California

"Absolutely...adequate."

In a short span of time, every window of the penthouse suite had been boarded up, shuttered, draped, or otherwise sealed against the eventual glowering sun. This had been performed by a miniature legion of followers eager to gain their master's favor. A lair not impervious to those beauteous but searing rays did not meet the standards of a vampire, particularly one whose only unconditional weakness was ultraviolet radiation. The status of the windows, however good, was not what DIO now referred to.

Giggling faintly, as if breathing her last, the drained body of the hotel's secretary fell to the plush carpet. No matter how hard one searched, they would not find a mark upon her, but all the same her blood and her body were now separated. DIO ran a finger gently across the scar that marked the point where his head met the body of Jonathan Joestar. Once DIO's greatest foe, Jonathan had seemingly beaten DIO all those years ago, only to be killed and his body stolen by the vampire he'd sworn to destroy. Much blood was needed to make the body totally DIO's, but the essence of everyday humans proved so dull and tasteless. It would help, but it would not satisfy.

Sighing, DIO watched as the body of the secretary began to fill back up. In no time at all, she'd returned to normal, with only a few minor exceptions. Her skin was pale, her irises red, her canines lengthened, and her mind DIO's, now and forever. What before was an ordinary human, having willingly given herself to the vampire, was now his spawn. Of course, vampire spawn lacked the power of real vampires, having been born of vampiric essence rather than the sting of a Stone Mask, but otherwise they were similar. And now, DIO had twenty-nine of them. "There we go. My gifts have been given. Power, life, security...peace of mind. Humans desire nothing more. It is time for you, ladies and gentlemen, to return the favor. Tell me about this place." He reclined leisurely upon a sublime sofa and listened.

A short time later, thanks to the combined efforts of all the spawn, DIO had a fairly accurate picture of the City, if not the reasons why he'd been brought here in the first place. "I see. Miss, might I ask another favor of you? Please gather the staff of this place and bring them to me, then close the hotel. As of today, this lovely establishment is under new management. There's going to be some remodeling, reorganization, and so forth. I know I can count on you."

[User]
Kino was perplexed for a few moments when she was given the banana. Not that she would complain about being given food for free, but it was still rather surprising, especially after she had been patted on the head like that. It wasn't something she was used to. She quickly slipped the banana into one of the packs on Hermes, who was currently rather perplexed about being granted his own banana, as well as the one that had been set on his seat. It was about then that she heard the explosives woosh overhead, and detonate far too close. The motion that followed was smooth, flowing almost elegantly. In a flash the small girl's hand had found her hip, wrapped its fingers around the Cannon, and drew it in an instant. All of this happened in an instant, and the revolver was drawn equally as quickly and immediately trained on their origin, the mad masked man.

Just as he was tackled to the ground by a boy in red. For a few moments Kino was silent, but as it seemed to have worked quite well in subduing the man she lowered her weapon and holstered it.

"Would you have shot him even though he missed, if that guy didn't tackle him, Kino?" Hermes asked.

When Kino replied, her voice was calm and collected. It was not a sarcastic comment, simply an honest one.

"What do you think, Hermes?"

After a moment's pause, the motorrad made his own response.

"Oh, I see."

Kino turned towards the directly the smell came from. It... did smell like food, certainly, and there appeared to be some kind of train cars there... That seemed to be the best option, for now, that's all she could say for sure.

Taking both of Hermes' handlebars in her hands, she turned the motorrad to face the cars, and quietly began to head towards them.

[Assistant]
Donkey Kong, upon hearing the shots, ducked and quickly threw his palms over his head. THIS DOES NOT EXPAND DONG.

He stared up at Krieg, with a look that seemed to say, "Why would you do that?"

At once, Krieg was assaulted by Ranma and Kino, leaving Donkey Kong confused, and sniffing the air. He smelled spices, salt, and cooking oil, but he didn't smell bananas. Nonetheless, he was curious, and therefore, as Ranma subdued Krieg, Donkey Kong turned his head towards the train cars. Just in time, too, for Ranma to point them out.

In turning his head, however, he noted that Filia had broken off a chunk of the banana and put it under her hat. Eh? This wasn't a common practice for Kongs; perhaps it was some ritual of man, or some cosmetic application that would leave their hair shiny and lustrous. Donkey Kong resolved to try it himself when he got the chance.

Donkey Kong liked that prospect; he was, indeed, quite befuddled with the prospect of being pulled from his home on Donkey Kong Island. And so he plodded towards the train cars, unconsciously licking his chops and wondering how those scents would mingle with the taste of banana.


[System]
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Alias: Chronarch.

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Everyday Appearance

Standing at an average height of 5'9 inches, with a relatively muscular build thanks to his time spent outdoors, and an average weight of 198.2 pounds, David is a ruggedly handsome looking man with a short, well kept, beard and wavy locks of dirty blond hair.

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Costume

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Age: 35.

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Gender: Male.

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Hometown: Prattville Alabama.

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Biography: Born in 1985 to Valerie and James West, David grew up in a small yet busy two story home in Prattville Alabama with his sister Ashley and his older brother Damian. His childhood was pretty much the same as everyone else's. He was enrolled in local school, made friends, and got into fights with bullies. Basically the standard childhood of any boy born at that time.

After he made it out of elementary school along with his brother Damian, David ended up in a local high school and from there worked his way into a nearby community college. It's here that he and his brother worked to earn their Bachelor's degrees in their chosen fields of study. It's also here that their powers to control time first awoke during a dorm party in which a fight had broken out between three other student's in the room right before everything besides them ground to a halt. After figuring out what had happened, the two brother's broke up the fight and left the party a few minutes later, their mind's blown by what they had just witnessed and done.

While they were a bit concerned about what the other students at the party might say, they each reasoned that everyone there was probably too plastered to remember something as significant as two twenty something's seemingly teleporting around the room to break up a fight.

Upon returning to their shared dorm, Damian and David both agreed to swear an oath of secrecy about their power's, lest someone found out and attempted to use them or their newfound powers for malicious purposes. They also set their minds to discovering the exact limits and capabilities of their abilities so they didn't accidentally harm themselves or other's.

Once they had earned their Bachelor's degrees, David's in computer science and Damian's in business management, the pair graduated from college and got matching hourglass tattoos to commemorate their trip through "Hell" as they called it. After this they went their separate ways and took up jobs a various places.

Only a year had passed before they saw each other again. This time under much darker circumstances.

They found out that their sister had been murdered. Having received word from their parent's, both Damian and David made their way back to Prattville where the funeral was being held. The service seemed to stretch on for an eternity before her casket was finally lowered into the ground. Both David and Damian looked on in silence for a long time as a light rain began to fall on the area.

Finally Damian left, leaving his brother standing, alone, over his sister's grave.

And that was the last time David saw him. He searched high and low, on the internet and in Damian's workplace, but came up with nothing. Absolutely nothing. He even hired a private detective and still couldn't find him. It was as though his brother had vanished from off the face of the Earth. After six months of non-stop searching, David grudgingly accepted the fact that he wouldn't see his brother again and did his best to move forward past the loneliness and heartbreak.

He moved from place to place over the year's working as a freelance web developer, until he eventually moved to the California supercity of Bell Reach in early 2020 where people with powers, or metahumans as they were also known, lived in droves. While he moved there mainly to honor a contract he had with a client, David also made the move out of the faint hope that his brother Damian had somehow ended up in the city as well.

---

Personality: Having grown up in a small two story house with two other siblings, David learned patience, tolerance, and respect at a very young age. While his brother and sister would throw tantrums when they didn't get their way, David would calmly wait until his parents decided upon the right time to give him what he'd asked for and if they said no, he simply accepted it and went about his businesses playing with his toys or climbing the large walnut tree in their small backyard while his siblings would run off to their rooms and sulk.

Aside from those traits, David also developed good social skills and found himself most at ease when surrounded by his friends at school. During his school years he also found that he had an intense hatred for bullying and those who preyed on people who weren't able to defend themselves. This hatred ended up getting him into many fights with other boys along with many visits to the principal's office.

While his disgust and hatred for bullies-as well as his grief over his brother's disappearance and his sister's murder-have slowly subsided over the year's, his desire to help other's and do what's right has not and he will not hesitate to use his powers to aid those in need around him.

---

Skillset: As a senior full stack developer, David is good with tech and coding, something he found he had a knack for in his college days, and is relatively skilled in hand-to-hand combat as well as hunting and the handling of a firearm thanks to his families keen interest in the outdoors and outdoor activities.

---

Powers: Chronokinesis - This incredibly powerful ability allows some of its most skilled user's to affect the fourth dimension, and by extension the universe or possibly multiverse (if such a thing exists), in unimaginable ways. Luckily for humanity, normal and metahuman alike, this power is extremely rare and comes with many lethal side effects if overused such as brain hemorrhages, strokes, and accidental lobotomy just to name a few. Less powerful or skilled time controllers must also consciously focus on keeping time stopped, slowed, etc. unlike the most powerful and skilled of manipulators, who can control time as easily as one flips a light switch on and off.

Errors in time can occur as well if the user doesn't know what their doing and if they aren't careful, then they could find find themselves reliving the same moment over and over again, get frozen in time, get erased from existence entirely, or possibly end up stranded in an alternate timeline, again if such a thing exists, where the world is ruled over by a tyrannical regime of sentient hamsters. As such, this power must be used with the utmost caution and care since one slip up could end life, as we at least, know it.

---

Tools and Equipment: The most current model of IPhone, a black backpack, a-licensed-9mm Glock, an Alien Ware PC, and a fixed blade hunting knife.

---

Additional Information: David has an elaborate hourglass tattoo that covers most of his upper back. He got it after he and his brother's graduation from college to commemorate what they jokingly referred to as their journey through "hell".

Before his sudden disappearance after the funeral, David's older brother Damian also had a matching tattoo on his left inner forearm that he often covered up with a long sleeve coat or shirt of some kind after their sister's murder five months after graduation. It was as though the very sight of it had become a constant and jarring reminder of his inability to protect her instead of the lighthearted and fun thing it was supposed to have been originally.

[User]
Barely a minute after she started violating several speeding laws, Erika was pulling up to the scene of the emergency. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of the flames consuming the building and the fire-fighters running around, out of the corner of her eye she saw what looked like a person with grey clothes appear out of no where(teleportation? Awesome!) but she didn't dwell on him, choosing to focus on the emergency in front of her.

Wasting no time, apart from taking a second to set the alarm on her bike, she ran over to the nearest firefighter. "What's the situation?" The man paused in what he was doing with an impatient scowl, probably thinking that she's just a nosy civilian, but after giving her a once over and taking in her apparel, her vigilante status became clear. A conflicted expression crossed his face for a moment, but they needed the help. "Two civilians trapped inside, my men went after them, but no luck so far."

"Got it." Erika said, giving a nod before rushing head-first into the flames. Her mask and goggles helped to keep the smoke out and her skin is pretty much burn-proof, that didn't help with the intense heat though. It was freaking hot in there! Well…considering that the building is basically a giant bon-fire at this point, that wasn't surprising.

Ignoring the heat and the sweat gathering at her brow, Erika rushed forward to the back of the store, paying no regard for the flames as they brushed her skin, her full attention on getting to the civilians and getting them to safety.

[Assistant]
Of course.

The moment that Fringe decided to take a moment to relax and get some food a fire started. At the call for powers, Jin groaned. She shot Professor Devil an apologetic look. She couldn't even order her food before she was out the door and behind an alley changing back into her costume.

And from the rooftops jumped and swung Fringe, the Shanghai Spider in her purple and silver glory to help however she could. Fires weren't something we powers and gadgets were good at combating, but she could still assist in other ways if the firemen needed her.

---

Gone too was young Trent, who knew he could help from the sidelines by directing the water onto the building with ease and even using it to create and easy path down to the ground if any of them chose a window exit. If worse came to worse and he couldn't help with the fire, at least he had medical training to help the people on the ground.

That left Professor Devil to his lonesome with a few others in the restaurant. He smiled. Fringe had been on his watchlist from some time, ever since she left Shanghai as Spider and came to the states with a new look, name, and tools. There were others he was aware of, but she was the first on his list. Of course, Miss Fang was there too. She was the answer to the Government needing to know what went on in the Bastion Halls.

A napkin peppered his face, his spare hand reached up to press the lapel pin on his blazer. The Bastion logo, of course, just in case anyone had any doubts that it wasn't him.

"Novak, was that you? John already went over everything again, do you need to hear it a third time? We're not holding initiations."

"Not me, doc." The Lapel pin was as quiet as a whisper, but just loud enough for Devil to hear clearly. "Just coincidence. You know putting civilian lives in danger is an instant boot. I can check it out if you want, though."

"No." Devil shook his head, despite the fact that the one on the other end could not see him. "Let the public handle it. I could remove a fire with a wave of my hand, but I want to see how these young folk handle a little stress."

[User] She had just finished her food when she heard the sirens and saw the smoke. Frick she fixed her mask and went camouflaged. She took a running jump off the building and leaped to the next one below it shooting out her black ropes (I don't want to call them webs but I don't know what else to call them) as a staff to stop her fall. She kept from roof to roof till she made it too the fire. She crouched on the roof of the building next to it, most seemed to be in the middle of being dealt with and she wasn't sure if she was needed. Then she saw somebody on the second floor looking out the window, a teenager. She jumped to the wall of the building and stopped being in camouflage. She shot a thread down to the ground and helped the teen out the went into the building to scout it out and find more civilians, she found herself with other heroes but didn't really acknowledge them, she was busy.

[Assistant]
David calmly watched as several other hero's, or rather vigilantes if one wanted to get technical, rushed towards the flaming inferno, intent on rescuing those who were still trapped within. Reaching into his pocket and pulling out the bandana he'd taken from his apartment, David pulled it against his mouth and nose before tying the two excess strips of cloth into a tight knot that wrapped snuggly around the back of his skull. Pulling his grey hood over his head to help further conceal his identity, David closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Letting it out slowly, he opened his eye's and watched as the movement of the world around him slowed to a crawl.

Stepping past the police cordon, David ran towards the burning building at full speed with his hand raised in front of his face in a vain attempt to block some of the intense heat radiating from the firestorm. To the outside observer, it appeared as though a grey blur had just shot through the area and into the collapsing store, but to David the world around him moved at a snail's pace, events seeming to drag on for ages as he ran through the flames, smoke, and ash billowing from the buildings entrance. Once in inside, he began to make his way towards the very back of the store, all while doing his best to avoid falling debris raining down from the crumbling ceiling above his head.


[System]
Age: 29
Gender: Female
Role: Crew Member

Specialty: Linguist/Cartographer

Personality: Brooke is a bubbly woman with a passion for exploration and knowledge for the betterment of all. Good-hearted, kind, Brooke enjoys making friends and spreading her own ideas and taking in the ideas of others. It's a shame she's exceptionally awkward and uncharismatic. One would not have to take themselves too seriously in order to become friends with the woman who stammers and gesticulates wildly when trying to express an idea she is particularly invested in. Self-awareness isn't one of her strengths, but she has just enough of it to be embarassed after the fact. Brooke tries to be humble but what pride she does have is easily bruised. She's also a terrible liar and accidentally wears her heart on her sleeves, even though she often tries to put up a facade of being cool and 'scientist-y'. Brooke is insatiably curious and frankly put: gullible. It was this gullibility that allowed her to trust in herself that her grandfather, and Atlantis, was real, and worth pursuing. She has a borderline obsessive nature with the lost empire, and though she has accomplished some tasks in her academic career, the only thing she has ever truly wanted was to find that vanished bastion of civilization that vanished into the sea untold millenia ago. Since she severely lacks people to talk too about the things she cares about, Brooke has developed a habit of thinking aloud, or talking to herself.

This all being said, Ms. Everett is an exceptionally skilled linguist and cartographer. Her lack of tact is not to be confused with a lack of intelligence. It is her life's passion and work.

Brooke has a distaste for violence, and is particularly aware of the flaws of the society she lives in. If anything good has come out of her struggles, it's her deeply burning empathy with the experiences of others. Brooke also is addicted too really likes Cola, reading, playing board games. Of course, maps and languages are pretty great, too.

Brooke is fluent in English, Atlantean, Spanish, and Chinese. She's also basically skilled in Russian, Japanese, Italian, French, and Louisiana Creole thanks to her childhood friend, Penny.

Appearance: Brooke is black woman with a slender, almost-athletic build. Her short, curly black hair is kept up and semi-side swept, though it becomes unkempt quite frequently. She has big, glittering brown eyes, a broad flat nose and full, plump lips that smile easy, revealing her chipped right front tooth. Resting on the bridge of her nose is almost always a pair of thin-rimmed circular glasses that tuck neatly over her small ears.

Her glasses serve two purposes- to help with her short sightedness, and to subdue the effects of her amblyopia, sometimes referred too as lazy eye. When not wearing her glasses, her right eye tends to drift inwards towards her nose rather then agreeing with wherever her left eye is looking. She can still see out of it when it's like it, but it's vision is blurrier and it's much easier to just focus on what her left eye is seeing rather then straining herself to look out of her lazy one. Especially when it's mostly just her nose and whatever the left eye is seeing, but worse.

Her clothes are brightly colored, casually formal and practical. White undershirts underneath red vests or blazers, and tucked into pants or skirts depending on her mood or situation. The scholar slips into heels, pumps, and boots easily.

art stolen from kiikiibee.tumblr.com. check them out for cool drawings

Other: Brooke's American accent is almost North-Eastern but a little too sugary southern sweet. Brooke is also decent at plumbing, so if this whole cartography thing doesn't work out she'll fall back on that and just be a little bit unsatisfied and bored for the rest of her life, but that's not too bad.

History: Brooke was raised by her grandfather, Raymond Everett, after her parents Raymond Jr. and Patricia Everett passed away shortly when she was a toddler. She didn't know them much personally, but she learned much of them and the type of people they were. Good, hard-working, rebellious and stubborn. The ideal American, the kind so very often disparaged by most of the real Americans. Through stories her grandfather told of her father and his daughter-in-law they seemed to be respectable, loving people. Even though they weren't around to teach her the more indepth lessons of being a person in this world, she looks up to them anyway.

But Raymond was the man who she took after the most, a self-made man born in the Northern United States before the Civil War. The deck was stacked against him, as it were, but he got lucky, and made it work. He taught her often of linguistics and map-making. He didn't push her into it, he didn't even particularly want her to follow in his footsteps, but his passion and love for the subject was contagious. It was his identity, and his smile brightened the room whenever little Brooke dared to ask about the subject unprompted.

Brooke made friends with a little girl named Penny, two years her junior, who moved up North with her family a while ago. They became fast friends, even though they came from different backgrounds, especially when it came to class.

But soon Penny's nomadic family moved again, to somewhere else. Raymond Everett became obsessed with Atlantis, a lost forgotten Empire. He drudged up evidence and books and found the beginnings of the Atlantean language. He needed Shepherd's Journal, but he could never quite track it down. She saw him less and less towards the final years of his life, and though he was a great man, he never could just let it go.

Years have passed since then, and Brooke found herself taking up her grandfather's torch in the field of Academia. Most of whatever money he had intended to pass down to her was gone, or has been spent in the time since his passing. Originally, she planned to not fall down the same trap he did and become ensared by visions of Atlantis. Instead she wanted to study other aspects of those fields and become renowned for her own discoveries. For a while, this was true, but...it was hard not to think about.

So, working as a plumber in the boiler room of a University, she has slowly but surely built a little bit of a name for herself, if not publicly. Since she's technically not really a scholar, her work tends to be co-opted without credit by other members of academia. It has gotten under her skin recently, but she'd distracted herself more and more with focusing on the Lost Empire of Atlantis and cracking the code of the Atlantean language. Within the last year she has finally gotten fluent with it, has learned it's syntax and grammar, and can read and write it. Even her grandfather was a novice at the language, but she had his work as a headstart. Now, she's diving headlong into finally making a name for herself with a discovery that can't possibly be covered up or be taken credit for by somebody else- the discovery of the lost city itself. All she needs, is Shepherd's Journal and-

Oh, boy. Here we go again. This time, though, she'll be careful. Fortunately, it's not like there's anyone relying on her, so no one will miss her if she goes crazy. Plus...she's actually onto something here!

[User]
"Afraid I'm not much of an expert myself. My understanding is that it isn't much different from a normal ship. Just have to be a tad more careful about seals." Thucydides offered, puffing in his cigar as he took another look around the bay. An entire convoy of trucks loaded down with supplies was already starting on up the boarding ramp, though most of the crew itself was still lingering. That would change soon.

"I'm not much more excited than you about traveling in this thing, believe me. Prefer to know there's sky a certain distance above me. We have our duty though. Is there anything else you need prepared before we embark?"

[Assistant]
Szalai Zalán

"Just like a normal ship huh", Szalai replied as he looked at the submarine. "I will take your for word it then and then it should not be too hard to live in". Being in a submarine sure will be an experience, being underwater and everything. Granted he will be waiting around for a time before they find traces of the lost city. Still, it will be worth it once they found what they were looking for and Szalai is excited about it.

"I am just excited to find the lost city is all and not exactly excited to travel in a submarine. Just it will be new for me and being in an impressive submarine like this one". Szalai noticed the supply trucks and moving up the boarding ramp. "I take it that we are leaving soon and as for me Commander. I just to retrieve some things from my bunk and I should be good to go. It should be fast to get and I assume you are ready to depart?

[User]
Brooke Everett: The Cartographer

 Brooke Everett was scrambling to the bridge of the ship, clutching several scrolls of maps, balancing some on a small open-topped wooden box with various books inside. The young woman's frazzled short black hair that was shorter on one side raised just above her large, circular glasses that made her big brown eyes seem even bigger. Brooke had been a beacon of anxious energy throughout the entire trip, having had her entire life turned upside down. The sleeves of her white undershirt were rolled up to the elbows, and a red vest clung tightly to her body. The shirt was tucked into a belt that kept up a pair of black pants that tucked into a pair of boots. Everything was tucked. Perhaps not of any desire to be orderly or prim, infact it was more likely that had her clothes not been so tightly tucked they would be flying all over the place and getting stuck on every possible place they could get stuck on. It was a matter of necessity, almost.

 Preston Whitmore had changed her life. All those years of waiting, searching, hoping, it had finally come true. She was about to prove her and her grandfather right, and the Everett name would be brought to the public consciousness in the good light that it deserved. Finding Atlantis, following the notes of Shepherd's Journal in a high tech submarine---it was almost too good to be true! That was why she was so incredibly concerned with not messing anything up.

 Despite some of the crew's potentially mixed feelings, Brooke was a true believer in the lost empire and expounded vibrantly upon the subject whenever someone dared broach it with her- or whenever they didn't.

 Carrying the box and the scrolls full of text and words that no one other then a cartographer and linguist could make any sense of, Brooke came to a door that lead to where she needed to go. There was a small glass porthole, and the top half of her face peered through, the large round glasses poking around to try and see anyone on the other side.

 With no free hands to operate the complicated naval door that only submarines had, Brooke pushed her forehead against the glass.

 "Hello?" She asked.

 Brooke leaned back against a nearby wall and extended her leg outward and began to kick at something like a handle or a wheel, trying to find a good grip on it to get the door open. "C-c-could somone---" She stumbled, slipping, and had to rebound before a map fell to the ground. She treated the maps as if they were expensive Chinese porceclain creations. Were they to fall onto the steel floor of the submarine, they would surely shatter into a million pieces. Brooke tried not to blink too much because she was certain that if she kept her eyes closed for too long she would wake up and be back in her gloomy New England apartment.

 "I need some-" She once again began and prematurely ended a sentence, this time adding a beleaguered, good-natured giggle. "Oh, heck." She leaned up against the wall and tried to balance the box in her arms. At this point she was nothing more then a pair of trousers supporting a shaking box. This was going to take a while, and her obvious, loud plight would need to be solved by someone else. Eventually she may figure out how to put down the box and open the door and pick the box back up again. Again, if she put down the box, the rocking of the submarine may cause it to drift into the wall, have a collision, and burst into flames. Anything was on the table at this point.

[Assistant]
"Just finished the inspection of all my team's equipment. We should be prepared for just about any breed of danger that might keep in on us." Thucydides replied. He paused then when he spotted the young Black woman trying to manage her rather copious luggage. He nodded politely toward the Hungarian. "If'll excuse me, seems our cartographer needs an extra pair of hands."

He gave a brief salute before he loped over toward the young woman. Thucydides loomed easily over the woman, and was probably four times her weight in muscle and bone, but even then he had to his best to not appear threatening.

"Let me give you a hand with that, Miss Everett." He said, his Louisiana drawl as thick as could be. The big man offered a polite smile as he turned the wheel to open the hatch for her. "Captain Thucydides Beauregard. Pleasure to meet you at last. Raymond would be proud seeing all this."


[System]
Race: Rock Gnome

Age: 72

Gender: Female

Appearance: Short, of course, with brown skin and blond braided hair. Her clothing's relatively light - a plain tan shirt and vest, a grey skirt, and black boots and gloves.

Class: Sorcerer

Alignment: Neutral

Bio: Cyanak was born in Tinkertown, though her affinity for magic over technology resulted in her leaving as soon as she could, at age 40. She skipped over the Northern continent, opting for the less-stable Western continent and its constantly shifting map for a few reasons. For one, she was quite fond of the chaos - as long as she kept her head low and didn't openly support any regime, she was regarded as useful by more than a handful of people over the years. She sold her brewed items to whoever was willing to pay her cheap prices and, if things got too exciting, she packed up shop and moved to another kingdom. When things began to grow relatively stable, she found herself becoming bored and finding new ways to keep herself amused - offering her services as a utility mage to adventurers wanting to explore the desert, studying alchemical recipes, kidnapping people's pets, all sorts of things. The last one ended up getting her arrested eventually and she would have been beheaded had an adventurer's group not bailed her out - they needed a magic-user to support them, and they'd be keeping her around for the long run. Cyanak agreed since, sure, she needed something to do anyhow if she wasn't going to be executed.

The last time she saw them, the barbarian and rogue threw the halfling fighter into the dragon's mouth at his request and were hoping he'd be able to cut through as he promised. She still has no idea if he ever did.

Personality: Cyanak is, at a glance, extremely sweet and kind. She'll gladly chat you up if you're interested, will not bother you if you aren't, will volunteer for raids without demanding compensation beyond healing and supplies used, and will likely gush over your animal companions. She seems content to use her magic for support as opposed to front-line fighting, and she barely seems capable of lying. She believes in honoring any promises she made and that she should be as upfront as is comfortable. That all said, she also seems to have an intense love for fighting and killing, and her love of magic tends to emphasize how she can turn a fight around with a flick of her wrist and a word. It also cannot be emphasized enough she should not be left alone with small animals. While promises are important, she doesn't hold any particular loyalty to anyone, considering herself a drifter. A good teammate if you can put up with her rather inconsistent personality, a villain if you cannot.

Equipment: Alchemist's crafting kit, crowbar, one set of caltrops, two flasks of oil, four empty flasks, four sets of rations, a waterskin, a bedroll, a sling, sling bullets, spell component pouch, and of course a backpack.

[User]
Cyanak blinked at - the paladin, huh? ...Best not to attract too much attention to herself then. "Oh. Thought you were already traveling with... Bozidar." She gestured at Bozidar. Sounded like a male name. Maybe they were a guy. It didn't seem that implausible, really. "I guess if he can afford you too, I'm not gonna object." And hopefully, that wouldn't set off a speech about how 'he' was a female, followed by a flurry of arrows.

"Anyways-" She turned back to Bozidar. "I'm a sorceress, if that's not a problem. Sure, some people might advocate for the wizard, but they can't cast as much and if you needed something else anyways, you're out of luck for the day either way. Besides, I've never met a particularly friendly wizard." In fact, she'd probably only gotten the silent treatment from that one because she wasn't dressed in casting robes. "So I guess if you need diplomacy-" She seemed less than enthused about the idea that the mission was not killing a dragon or the like. "-A sorcerer's still a better bet for not irritating everyone." And then the pep in her voice was back, and she was smiling. "So, yeah, short version, utility sorceress, alchemist, hope those aren't problems!"

Cyanak glanced at her bag, which she had noticed Bozidar looking at earlier. "...those don't count, though, I mean when I actually start brewing things while working for you."

[Assistant]
Bozidar was caught a little of guard by the "paladin" himself. Though spot wasn't a trained cleric skill, his wisdom bonus of balanced that. Though he noticed the lack of any sword but, he didn't have ranks in knowledge (nobility and royalty) so he assumed that it was some weird custom or whatever. "Well... if your interested by all means your very welcome to join us Sir. Toshiro, we need someone other than me for frontline combat anyways!"

Bozidar turned back to Cyanak, "Finally! Do you have any idea how many people have addressed me as miss or m'lady since I arrived? I'm glad someone finally sees that I am, in fact, a man. Regardless, your both obviously hired, if you wish to join me that is. As for quest specifics, a powerful magical artifact was recently stolen from the druid grove where I was raised and trained as a cleric. The thief was very powerful, and managed to steal the artifact before any of our higher level druids could even get involved. We need to find out where the artifact is, who took it, and then we need to get it back... unfortunately I don't have a tracker and unless one of you has cross class ranks in survival AND the track feat we need to find the culprit a different way..." Bozidar sighed at what That way was. "So, you two still interested? "

[User]
Toshiro scratched his left temple and again fell silent for a good while. He was obviously weighing his options about possible rewards and risks. "I'll gladly join you good sir, but there are just a few things I will make clear." He finished his pint of water and got on his feet. "I'm not that kind a paladin who upholds the law to the letter - you know, those fellows who nag at you for jaywalking or something like that. I'll accept some minor thievery if it is necessary for completing a task. You need not worry about me marching in to a bandit camp to challenge them in to honorable combat or something like that - except if we need a distraction so the rest of the group can sneak in through the back."

He glanced ever so slightly to his left and stared at the farthest wall of the inn before again continuing. "However I will not accept doing something wrong for the sake of it being 'cool' or 'awesome' - I will not accept killing children or other innocent noncombatants, be they of any race or alignment if they do not pose a threat to us." Toshiro adjusted his cloak slightly. "Oh... and for me being a paladin is a profession, not a class." He flashed a little smile - one of those smiles all old monks had even without it being a class feature. "I am a monk with 18 levels under my belt - so this'll probably be my last adventure anyways, though if things go well and we all live through this I'll gladly join you on a second adventure as well." He again paused and swung his head to the other side like he was listening to a very quick conversation between several people. "Since I'm a member of the nobility having me in the group will perhaps give us alteast some advantage in our quest - after all we don't have to constantly go lurking in the side alleys and might even get some help from the city guards of many places. We might get even more help if our travels happen to take us close to Azure city."

[Assistant]
Cyanak shrugged. "I had to dump a stat somewhere, and I needed some Strength to carry my alchemy crafting kit, so Wisdom went out the window." That was a short way of saying her Survival skill would not be adequate for tracking, even if she had invested ranks into it and gotten the feat for whatever reason, like it'd somehow be reasonable to get Tracking when the terrain was generally sandy. "But hey! I'm in for cutting the guy's head off when we find him and getting your artifact back!" Hopefully Bozidar would make a fine reference later for other jobs. "So when do we go? Now?"

She glanced up at Toshiro. Wow. She was only - what, level 12? Just picked up her first sixth-level spell before opting to find a new employer. "Question - can you really make a person's heart explode? That might be cooler than decapitation." It was a valid question. Hey, if he wasn't really a paladin, maybe he wouldn't object to her proclivities.

[User]
"18 levels huh? Well... that would be very useful. And I've no intention on hurting anyone who doesn't deserve it, I am Neutral good after all. Though I'm not sure how close to azure city we are going to get... but we may pass by eventually." as Bozidar said this he wasn't really sure about it... or anything really... well at least now he wouldn't have to go back to the grove and ask the druids to handle it.

"Well... I suppose we should make some sort of official contract or... something right? I'm kinda new yo this whole adventuring thing... you know I've only got 9 levels of cleric so... I may be lower than both of you... but I can still be an effective healer. Plus I'm kinda forming the group so I can really be... fired... so anyone have paper or something? "

[Assistant]
"As it so happens yes, yes we can." Toshiro glanced at Cyanak with such excitement in his voice that it was difficult to think him as lawful aligned. "Though I personally prefer doing nonlethal damage - takes people out from the fight same way as lethal damage, but I'm not taking lives." He added with a bit more subdued tone. "Ah, nice of you to mention that, sir Bozidar. I just so happen to have an adventuring contract here." The monk had actually just appropriated a roll of parchment and ink from the bartender when the fellow wasn't looking - so either he had used sleight of hand which wasn't a standard monk skill or somehow had utilized his flurry of blows ability to snatch the items in a sort of a disarming roll which too was very unorthodox.

"As you can read from here my terms are simple - the ones I already mentioned and in addition to that I'd be most honored if I was given the first pick if we happen to find any magical items that might be of more use for my class than yours. Also I can take most of the guard shifts during our little trip thanks to my magical ring. I don't need to eat, drink, worry about bodily functions... oh and I only need two hours of sleep as long as I have this thing on. So... let's see... I'll just add my signature here... aaaand..." Toshiro passed the contract, ink and quill to Bozidar. "Seem a fair enough deal?"

[User]
"Well, we'll still need to rest a full eight hours. Magic and all." Though at least nice to know the likelihood she'd need to take a shift was low. She'd done it before, going a few days without full rest and rationing out her spells, but she tended to run out of first-levels rather quickly and then regret doing so. Besides, actually, didn't a cleric need rest anyhow? She didn't really pay a lot of attention to those who ordered from her, not that Bozidar needed to hear that.

And no fair, the contract was well over her head. Even standing on her tip-toes, she couldn't quite read it. Though she was assuming Toshiro had slipped in other terms. "What kind of magic items does a monk need anyhow?" Monks were just unheard of, though considering gnomes took an inherent negative to the strength stat, well, hopefully he wouldn't be claiming any dexterity or charisma bonuses.

[Assistant] Toshiro smiled politely "Well I could always use more strenght, a bit more wisdom... A dash of dexiterity, you know, all that. Mostly I'm looking for magical items that noticeably boost my monk abilities - such as Monk's Belt or an Amulet of Mighty Fists... Ofcourse a Ring of Divine Power wouldn't hurt either..." The monk shrugged his shoulders and shook his head a bit "Though coming up with the latter items would be a bit difficult except if we happen to run in to a wizard who happens to be exceptionally proficient in crafting items, but what would be the odds of that?"

[User] Bozidar giggled at bit as the gnome clearly wanted to get a better look at the contract, "Cyanak if you want to read the contract for yourself just ask amd I'll show it to you. As for magic items we may have to discuss wisdom boosting ones Sir. Toshiro as I need wisdom for my spells. But we can work that out as we find such items, so the contract seems fine to me so I'll sign you on!" Bozidar took the quill and ink and signed his name on the parchment. After that Bozidar took and placed it on a chair for Cyanak to see it. "Alright, as soon as Cyanak here confirms her agreement we can stop this ridiculous contract simulator and get to adventuring! I can hardly wait... of course it's for a serious reason but I don't see why I can't have fun on my first real quest."

[Assistant]
"Alright then. Hope you picked the Magic Domain, because I didn't pick Identify." After all, many were loath to give the needed material component, so Cyanak had deemed the spell useless and avoided it. She glanced over the contract, just enough to skim it. It was a formality; so far, she hadn't heard anything that was a particular dealbreaker. "Anyway, sounds good. The most important part of any journey of bloodshed and robbery is to have a good time." She paused and then glanced up to the other two. "I have a feeling that didn't apply to either of you. Disregard it." Right, not home. Totally different continent, in fact. She signed her name, ending her name with a flourish, and carefully rolled it up to keep the ink from staining the contract.

"Glad we got that settled. So you mentioned a druid's artifact, huh?" Did Knowledge (Arcana) cover knowing whether or not it would make sense for druids to have an artifact? Might as well make the check.


[System]
Nickname: Optional
Race: Human
Age: 21.
Gender: Female.

Appearance: Picture or description. Use a hider.

Proportionality:
Weight: 63 kg
Height: 1.73 m
Frame: Atlethic Use a hider.
_______________________

Personality:- Wylde is an extremely straightforward person. She does what she wants, says what is on her mind and doesn't hold back for no one. She prefers company over solitude and has been known to search for people to spend time with. Due her work as a duelist for hire, she is used to traveling and loves it. Additionally she loves to meet new people and duel them if the chance presents itself. Warrior, mages, rogues, archers and all others, she loves experiencing new challenges and actively seeks out strong opponents. As a last note to mention she enjoys alcohol a lot. Especially before and after fights or when it's full moon.

Job: Duelist

Fighting Style: When without weapon, Wylde's main fighting style on extreme mobility and footwork that allows her to dodge and position herself for fast retaliation strikes, targeting vital points.

Weapons from strongest to weakest: – Rappier > long sword > dagger .
Armors/Outfits Besides a single armguard on her left hand and a kneeguard on her right leg, she wears no other armor. As clothing she wears light so it doesn't affect her mobility.

Familiar: Naisha

Familiar Abilities: Allows for ice magic to be used. Grants complete immunity to frost. Passive- keeps the user's body temperature stable even at extreme conditions. Weak to fire.
Movement Type: Is it Stationary like a sentry? Does it fly? Or does it walk and run?

Familiar Size: Medium (Human height.)

Relic Weapons: Light blue rapier, that gives off a cold haze around it as it eminate with frost energy.

Relic Armors: An armor that coveres her entire right arm. It's light blue in color like her the rapier and is cool on touch. It overwrites anything she has on her arm and replaces it until dismissed.

Trance: In trance, Wylde's speed triples along with her reflexes. Her body seems to get even slender, but without losing any physical strength. Her body starts to shine in pale blue and her weapon usually turns into crystal.

- The way Trance is activated is through stress and emotions. So tension can induce this.
- Your body can shift form due to the sheer power. Such as changing figure a bit.

Pros- Your Strengths. Extremely fast, hard to hit and has devastating counters, the ice magic combos well with her fighting abilities, has a lot of practice in fighting.
Cons- Your weaknesses. Dependent on dodges, has low health, doesn't have magic besides her familiar's

Background: Wylde was born in the capital of Alexandria. Daughter of a small noble, it was decided she will be a member of the military since the day she was born. As a young child she showed extreme promises as she seemed to be a natural athlete. By the age of 17 she had proven she is indeed worthy of the army and was already considered an accomplished duelist with great potential. The life in the army didn't suit her though. She was always catching herself looking in the far distance and down towards the misty lands, yearning to go out on her own into the vast open world. Many times during guard duty, she would sneak away into the library to read of distant lands and monsters that one couldn't see near Alexandria.

 It was two months after her 17th birthday that she finally decided she will leave the army and head out on her own. Her choice was not received well by her family and her superiors, but she had already decided and there was no way anyone would stop her really once her mind was made up. She left her uniform behind and set out with the first airship that left the capital. She didn't even ask where they were headed, she was going to find out when they arrived!

[User]
Hitori had been curled up, hidden beneath his Tails and dreaming of the place where all forests were one; relishing in fond memories that felt like they were a lifetime ago. Ada poked his head up from the Tails and cheerfully warbled a Good Morning to the Princess who had been trying to wake Hitori up. He saw Hitori was being a Lazy Bones and with all his Dolly Might he began to slap Hitori's face senselessly to wake him up. The Sensations of the Princess poking him, the Karn woman nudging him, and Ada slapping the fuck out of him awoken him and unintentionally startled him. He had forgotten where he was and saw all these people around him and panicked, causing him to grab Ada and rush to another Corner before he finally realized what was going on and calmed down, "Oh....Good Morning...or whatever time it is... Sorry I was just a little lost in my dream..." He said as he began to piece together what was going on Again. Ada's muffled warbles were only barely heard as the Doll began to squirm and flail to get out of Hitori's grip, Hitori noticed and stopped squeezing Ada, "I'm Sorry Ada, I didn't realize I had you so tightly." He apologized to the Doll who then bopped him on the head and pouted, warbling something about Hitori needs to calm down.

After hearing a lot of bad and loud noise Hitori noticed the tension was high and walked toward the Princess, "The Cassius Man, he hates us doesn't he? I mean I wouldn't mind if it was only me, I'm used to that by now but...He has no reason to hate the rest of you...I don't understand the hate in his heart at all." Ada heard this and sighed as he climbed onto Hitori's shoulder and sat down, petting his ears.

[Assistant]
Dren had found himself a little corner the prior night and had tipped his hat brim over his face so as not to be disturbed by a morning of descending light. Turns out it didn't work too well... this was hardly his preferred choice of sleeping spot, after all. Were he to fall asleep sitting he'd prefer to do so in a fine armchair with a good book. No such things available in the forest of death and lung choking fog, sadly. And he was awoken by a booming voice that practically jolted him out of a particularly odd dream involving a chicken becoming an egg and vice versa.

"Blimey..." he muttered as he stood up and brushed himself down and set his top hat back in its rightful position atop his bonce. He took a moment to cast his gaze around the ship. Everyone seemed to be preparing to move out, something he was more than fine with. The large one he had helped yesterday seemed to be recovering nicely, the fox was being prodded by... the princess of all people. Hm. He didn't think it would be proper of a princess... or was it queens he was thinking of? Whatever, not his business. The ladies from last night seemed more than occupied too.

Aaaaand the one person Dren actually trusted slightly had just stormed out... mentioning something about clearing a path. He was torn slightly, half of him considering it wouldn't be worth going after him in a state such as this, not to mention that Blank person had also gone... but on the other hand, were he to be a beneficiary to their group, his potions and concoctions would be his best bet... and he knew his cloak contained a decent amount of empty glassware right now. He couldn't whip up anything too complex given he was in the wild without the proper tools for big time potions... but if he could even just find a few simple herbs and materials, he might at the very least be able to provide something for the group, a handy healing potion per person would certainly be useful... he only lamented not being able to sell them. He could try but in this climate, he'd be asking for trouble.

With a stamp of his cane on the ground, he headed out, not uttering a word to the others, they'd barely noticed him at this point anyway, he found the two duelists going at it nearby and decided to wait until they done or he could catch their attention before he spoke up.
"Pardon the intrusion." he began formally with a slight tip of his hat. "I overheard mention of a healing spring and furthermore, a need to clear a path. I'd like to accompany you myself. More hands to carry supplies, and if I can find some good ingredients, we can hand out some proper curatives to the group before we proceed anywhere danger... well, more dangerous." he corrected himself mid sentence.

[User]
Karn simply just looked at Cassius, her expression unchanging from the calm monotone. "The correct term is pussy, as I'm not a dog. But I'd rather be a asshole then a temperamental child. Ready to point their gun at anyone that offends their good graces. Grow up. Crossdresser."  came another blunt calm response, before watching him go. Her emerald gaze narrowed at the Princess but turned to look at Blank as he spoke to her. She simply crossed her arms over her chest. Her face remaining the same, showing no hint of remorse or guilt or anger nor joy in the matter at hand.

"I'm a asshole. Shocker. I'm not going to pretend and play the cute kitten just to please someone who throws a tantrum as they try to play leader. Threatening those who don't agree or do what they say. Someone like that doesn't deserve to be treated like how they want to be. I ain't gonna lie or beat around the bush just because he can. Like it or not, someone like him needs to be treated like this to turn him down a few pegs and show him a little bit of reality. Their blindness often kills people anyway. If that makes me a bad guy then so be it. I was already tired rolling over for people like him years ago. Only thing we have in common is the same mission. Once that's done, he can go continue with his own kind. Won't have to deal with asshole Karn once the Princess is safely in Lindbulm." The blonde replied, in the same monotone blunt manner. She knew very well she was a asshole, she spoke her mind to a fault. Wasn't generally a likable person because of it. But at least she was a honest asshole who knew herself.

Sure, that made her more harder to make friends with whomever, but she didn't mind. She had her family, the only ones that did know her and understood. And even then, she was pretty sure she'd be fine if she had to live in solitude. She wouldn't be ashamed of herself regardless. Still she watched as Blank follow after the crossdresser, rolling her eyes as she checked around for needed supplies while checking on the rest of the crew. Lightly kicking them awake.

[Assistant]
As the night went on and others had gone off to rest, Randy would rather remain quite restless. He had managed to get himself standing back on two feet and was oddly rather proud of that feet despite it likely not to be fully contribute to him. Seeing as others, aid him by both bringing him here in the first place and also giving him some restorative agents such as potions and that fruit. The latter he had still not taken since the need for it seemed to be rather gone for the time being. Perhaps it was the potions or simply because Randy felt like doing stuff instead of lying around with more rest. He felt like he had plenty of that on the way here and lying about the floor only a few moments ago. If anything an excitement and energetic feeling was rather passing through him quite quickly. He had to go do something with that.

He began immediately working or trying to find things to work or do with this new found energy arising in the night. He began to try gather and scavenge bunch of random things that seemed appeared to be useful for possible repair, or fuel for a fire or anything that seemed to have use or in need of repair including tools if there was any to be found. He began humming along while cleaning the mallet he had with him against any spare cloth or rag if it could be found if not, his overalls would have to do. The thought of having goblin skull and brain upon the tool was a little sickening. The events of using the mallet today were somewhat exciting and a bit romanticized trying to glance over the death inflicted. Poets would have exaggerated the event as much as his daydreaming would, and that had been happening all day.

He looked about and tried to find something else of small entertainment to keep him focused instead of daydreaming. Perhaps a small music box that played a sweet tune or Romantic music would be a nice or some schematic for a later project to give interest and desire. If nothing of the sort could be found, he would rather set out to repairing or trying to better any piece of junk that was lying around or simply pointless tasks such as stacking objects on top of each other. Briefly imagining himself as poet. "The iron bent shaped" He began whispering and took a pause to come up with more words. "Composed is into a new shape…" He took another pause starting to struggle with the form. "is lost but pleasured." He shrugged, it would do for now. It was, somewhat impressive to him. Despite its lack of expression, effort or beauty into it.

Time had flew on by. It seemed like the night was being lost. He quickly flopped onto the ground and lied there with his eyes closed in order to try and sleep. Sleep did not come, but a wakeup call did and that was soon followed by a nudge. Randy feigned pandiculation, rather poorly. He immediately stood up and tried to zone his attention back as to what was going on. It seemed he was rather having trouble, for a few seconds it felt like he had rather gone deaf except for a few tunes playing through his head. It was dismissed as himself zoning out briefly. He did, however manage to notice Hitori's rather startled awakening. Randy rather, and somewhat oddly went after the other to try and calm them but that seemed a mistake from square one with his own conversational skill set. He would try to pat Hitori softly on the back and ask simply in a word "Nightmare?" rather quietly.


[System]
Age: 17

Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.

Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.

Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.

Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.

Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.

Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.

Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.

Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.

Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).

Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.

Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.

Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening.  Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"

Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.

Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
 For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
 Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
 The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
 As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
 News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
 Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
 Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.

Other Important Characters

Name: Henry

Age: 14

Appearance:  Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.

Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.

Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.

Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
 Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
 After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
 Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.

[User]
As soon as it was Elayra's turn to keep watch, Ghent handed over the OmniChrono and returned to his backpack. He mumbled some sort of warning about the fog to her, but the words came out in a slurred, jumbled mess. Unsurprisingly, it didn't take long for him to fall into a deep sleep, his surroundings completely lost to him.
 When morning came around, Ghent was lying on his back, his arms and legs sprawled out in weird angles like he'd fallen from a tree. He would have stayed that way for hours, had it not been for Elayra. The grip on his shoulder pulled Ghent out of his dreamless sleep, startling him awake.
 "What? What's going on?" Ghent started to sit up, completely disoriented. As Elayra came into focus, he heard her mention breakfast. Normally, that would be enough to entice him, but he was too tired to care about food. He groaned and flopped his head against his backpack, pulling the cloak over his face in the same action.
 "Breakfast? My stomach isn't even awake yet!" Ghent complained, the words muffled underneath the fabric. He wasn't ready to face the day, and he definitely wasn't ready to face Wonderland.
 As if to prove his statement wrong, his stomach growled. Ghent grimaced. He wanted nothing more than to get a few more precious moments of sleep, but the prospect of getting out of Hollow Forest was enough for him to reconsider.
 Slow as a sloth, he sat up, the cloak slipping down to settle in his lap. "Fiiine," he sighed in defeat, suspecting had no choice in the matter regardless of what he wanted. He began to stand, stiff and sore after their misadventures through Wonderland.
 "Let me guess. We're eating that weird, bumpy jerky again," he rubbed at his eye, sniffing once as he studied her face. "And it's Ghent, Blondie," he grumbled, knocking a stray twig out of his hair. "How'd you sleep? Man, that Kingly Cure-All sure knocked you out. I thought you were in a coma or something."

[Assistant]
Elayra pulled back when Ghent stirred. Remaining crouched, she rested her hands on her knees. He wasn't the quickest waker, but at least it didn't take more than one attempt to get him up.
 She rolled her eyes as his stomach contradicted Ghent's statement. "Riiight."
 She stood as he did. Her cloak shifted as she crossed her arms over her chest. She sighed heavily, noticing his stiff movements. If that didn't work itself out, he'd slow them down. And the last thing she wanted was to have to spend more time in Hollow Forest than necessary.
 She glanced to the lightening forest. A couple shapes swirled in the fog, wandering almost in a confused state before vanishing.
 She turned her attention back to Ghent with a snort at his comment about the jerky. "Get used to it. There's nothing to hunt here, anyway." She frowned as the memory of her last kill, the deerdrin, came longingly to mind. Though she didn't mind the toatunt jerky, she'd take deerdrin instead any day. "Living animals don't come here. Even the Cursed ones are too smart for that."
 She shrugged at his question. "Felt like I was in a coma. But it worked." She rubbed the back of her head lightly, the bump that had formed there already gone. "And it's Elayra, Featherhead," she added, smirking to attempt hiding her annoyance at the nickname.
 She glanced to Drust as he pulled a worn hooded cowl from his bag. He let it drop beside the bundle of jerky, a piece of the cured meat in his mouth.
 She reached into her pouch again and removed the OmniChrono. "Drust."
 As soon as he focused on her, Elayra tossed the Chrono to him.
 He caught it easily in one hand and grabbed the bundle of jerky in the other. Without missing a beat, he tossed the bundle to her. He jerked his head to Ghent as he placed the Chrono in one of the belt pouches already in their place at his waist.
 "What's it gonna be?" She held the long bundle out to Ghent. "Breakfast, or starve until you have the time to hunt and skin something else?"
 Drust tore off the end of his jerky with his teeth. "There won't be time," he growled around the jerky. He closed his pack and glanced to Ghent. "Keep out a couple pieces. Put the rest in your pack." He slipped the cowl on over his head, keeping the hood down. It matched the rest of his brown and black clothing, its once vivid coloring faded with use and age. "We've delayed enough as it is."