[System]
Race: Awoken
Gender: Female
Age n Age: Been a guardian for almost a year now.

Class: Huntress - Gunslinger primary subclass

Ghost: Smartass, upbeat personality with little regard to when he needs to act serious.

Appearance:

Gear: Full Rogue 4.5 set with Cloak of Ragged Fortune
W.o.C: Handcannons and Sniper Rifles (no preference on elements)

Personality: Cecelia is a thrill seeker. She'll jump into a group of fallen just to see how long it takes to kill them. Her best time on Venus is ten seconds and a few milliseconds. She loves to laugh and crack jokes, though knows when to act serious or formal, and when to just shut up. Unlike her ghost, Einstein (that's what she named her ghost).

Background: Cecelia's been a guardian about as long as she's been awoken. (well, revived technically) She was woken up by Einstein, whose first words were "get enough sleep, princess?" And from then on, as long as she called her ghost Einstein, he called her Princess. She prefers her comfortable Rogue set due to its simplicity. And her cloak has seen as much action as she feels she has. Most of her work has been on Earth and Venus, not venturing too far from either of those places. She'll occasionally tag along with some other Guardians for a strike if it's in the area. That's pretty much the only time she uses a sniper rather than her handcannon-rush tactic.

[User]
Cecelia looked the ship over. It was very nice, especially a custom job for this one specific mission. The one thing that bothered Cecelia was why can't they take their own jumpships? It makes sense that someone would need to carry it, but someone could put it in their ship. Not Cecelia's though. Hers was far too small. She's modified it to be as fast, light and stable as possible. In that order. It wouldn't take much to bring it down, but it'd have to hit the ship first.
 Cecelia giggled at the overly-enthused ghost wanting to go in first, and went inside to look. It was cozy, though still too clunky for her taste. Sitting down in a chair, she responds to her fellow Guardian who spoke of their departure. "I got all I need, so I'll just stay here. Got my weapons, armor, and a seat. Ready to kick butt at a moment's notice." After Cecelia got adjusted, Einstein zips out of nowhere, like ghosts normally do. "Hey, any idea why we all need to cram into one jumper? I figured it may have been to hold the weapon, but one person could do that. It doesn't add up." "Dunno. It's pretty comfy in here, though. Worth they lack of subtlety and speed." Ignoring the blatant fact that if this went down, that the six Guardians would be S.O.L., Cecelia leans back in the chair and awaits her teammates.

[Assistant]
Echo hovered over to the ships guns, looking them over as a blue light shining out of his core as is scanned over the surface. "This thing can fight through an armada?" He took a few feet back to fully take in the ships exterior. "Well it definitely looks the part." The ship wasn't too big, but it definitely stood out from the other jumpships. He turned to ask Holliday how more about the ship and the added features that she had failed to mention but she had already made her way back to her little corner of the loading dock. In her hands was a tablet of sorts, a silver frame with a light blue holographic screen within. Just after she tapped a few things on the screen, a plethora of information flooded Echo's database. He now had access to the blueprints and could see the inner workings of the ship itself. It was fitted with new tech that Holliday herself designed and had planned to embed into the newest models of jumpships. Some of this tech included a cloaking mechanism, enhanced tracking on weapons, as well as a cleansing circle built into the small infirmary, a technology extracted from the Vex. Echo returned to Evana but was distracted by the joyful and ecstatic shouting of the young ghost belonging to the human Warlock.

"Echo."

Echo slowing turned his attention to his guardian, amused by the other ghost's reaction. "Hmm?"
"Stay here, have a look around. I must grab a few things from the Vault before we take off," Evana instructed, already starting to walk away toward the Vaults.

"Roger, roger," Echo replied, turning to face the ship when he sees the overjoyed ghost rush out and stop just at the entrance of the ship, exclaiming that there was a minifridge on board. "Sweet…" he murmured, floating toward the entrance. Just as he passed the other ghost he asked, "Think you can steer this baby, kid?" half chuckling as he asked. He went inside to check out the interior, going by a fellow guardian who had made herself comfortable in one of the seats. "I bet the fridge is empty," he said to no one in particular.

--

It didn't take long for Evana to access her Vault, a virtual storage system that holds all the loose items, weapons, and armor she had acquired over a few years. In all honestly, she didn't need much. It was just a relief to be away from all those guardians. There wasn't too much as she didn't feel the need to have anything other than her MIDA Multi-Tool, though she kept a few others around. Mostly, one of each type she felt she'd ever need. Looking through the list of items she had stored, Evana selected some ammo synthesis, in the event of particularly sticky situations. She grabbed an old sniper rifle she had purchased from Future War Cult a long time ago. Though she hardly used it, she didn't know what exactly she'd be facing. It's always better to be safe than sorry, something she had heard was a common term in the olden days.

As she exited out of the Vault, Evana threw her head back, glaring out at the open sky, the large and broken structure that was the Traveler hovering protectively over the Tower. She let out an softly audible sigh before starting her walk toward the others.

[User] Asia listens to the plans of getting said supplies.she would of gone but she didn't exactly know where she's going and she didn't have any money(or whatever it's called).she still felt shy and didn't want seem like an idiot so she didn't say anything but kinda gave the team mates going a wierd and confused look.

[Assistant]
Vayen had kept silent since she last spoke, only following the rest of the fireteam.
She had wished this request had come from her queen back at the Vestian Outpost, her Vestian ship would even be left behind for the mission, not that she minded their new toy, neither did the ghosts it seemed.
Evana ran off to make sure her supplies was with her, the other guardians seemed to be at their own, inspecting their new ship.
Stepping inside she took her fair look inside, sitting down on the co pilot seat. Spinning her chair to face the back of the ship she sighed and looked up with a mixed expression, inbetween relieved and awkardly pushing her social side, "I, well I guess I will introduce myseld shortly, despite the data we have on each other..." she looked around for response, "My name is Vayen Lokh, I have been around for sometime, not good with the names but I will try to not mess up with you folks... My shy and mute of a ghost is named Saga, though she lacks outer communication functions she will happily listen and talk to you through a holoscreen..." She did not know how to continue, despite Evana being away it felt better doing something than to remain silent, besides these were the people she would now start to work with and probably beyond their current mission seeing as what has so far been invested on them.

[User]
Einstein was initially confused by the ghost that had floated by, talking about steering the ship. Through the comm on Cecelia's suit, he remarked "Um... I'd prefer to not navigate a ship, like I always do when we're jumping around." Cecelia smiled a little and rolled her eyes. Hearing another guardian introduce herself, Cecelia figured names of sorts would be a little important. "Hey. I'm Cecelia. My ghost, Einstein, can- and always does- call me princess. Just a nickname. My tactic is up close and in-your-face as much as I can. If there's a large baddie, I'll pull out my sniper. I guess I'm a heavy-impact sort of shooter. Though, with enough Light, I can whip out me a golden gun. I knew I wouldn't need to go to the Vault cause I've been using the same sniper and handcannon since I found them on Mars. Too good to pass up, and nothing that's surpassed them while I've been out in the field or at the Tower's gunsmith. Just works for me. My armor probably isn't optimized, but it's comfy and guards me well enough. What sort of fighting style do you use, Miss Lokh?"
 Fighting styles and tactics were a primary concern for Cecelia, since hers was pretty versatile. It'd be unwise to have six guardians going up-close-and-personal with no sniper backup in case of a few Hobgoblins or that annoying Vandal with the sniper beam-gun. Always hate those, because they threw the biggest wrenches in Cecelia's tactics execution. Too much evasion while trying to approach. Occasionally, she can hit them with a throwing knife right in the face, but that's a really hard shot to make. No matter what, Cecelia would fill the role most needed. If most of them preferred to rush in, she'd stay back. If a lot of them preferred to use distance, she'd be best to rush in. This looked like a jumpship base more than a ship of its own. It'd be big enough to launch smaller jumpships from it, which would be awesome. Like a mobile hanger. Typing it into a holo-note, Cecelia transmitted it to Einstein to work on some rough draft blueprints. Maybe they could make something after this mission. Or at least start. Either way, this mission takes precedence.

[Assistant] "My name is Asia,uh,I really can't say anything about my combat skills"Asia said softly.She wasn't sure why she spoke up and wondered if she should've just stayed quiet.she looks out the window.

[User]
"Mason!" It took the Ghost a few moments to tear itself away from whatever it had been looking at before hovering in the open doorway. "I'm going to leave the introductions to you while I run and grab a few things, alright?"

"Ohhh, okay!" The ghost chirped back at him as he turned to leave the hanger, heading back the way they had came. "I'll do just that." The Ghost muttered to itself as it made it's way through the ship to where the others had gathered just in time for the Titan Vayen Lohk to introduce herself and her Ghost Saga. Fascinated by the fact that Saga had no exterior communication functions but instead used a holoscreen to communicate with most others had the curious Ghost slowly hovering closer to Saga and Vayen, and completely forgetting that Mason was suppose to be introducing themselves to the others.

When the Hunter Cecelia introduced herself and her Ghost Einstein had broken
Mason's interest on Saga and quickly brought back the fact that Mason was suppose to be making introduction. "Oh, right!" The Ghost quickly exclaimed as it remembered it's task. "My name is Mason! I'm belong to the Warlock Atticus Gage. He likes long walks on the beach killing Fallen dregs and he absolutely looooooooooooooooooooves ice cream." The Ghost looked around the room, but failed to look behind it where Atticus now stood before whispering. "Strawberry is his favorite!"

"Mason!"

"Eeep!" Startled the Ghost shot up higher into the air with a resound clang of metal against metal as it hit the roof before making a dash to hide under Vayen sitting in the copilot seat. "Don't do that, meanie!"

Atticus sighed and shook his head as Asia took the chance to introduce herself
before looking back out a window. "Well, anyway," He shifted the gear he had in his arms. "I am Atticus Gage, and that would be my Ghost Mason. Don't take anything Mason says to seriously, as my Ghost an be a bit of a child."

"Hey!" Mason shot up from the hiding place under Vayen, but didn't fly to far away just in case it need a quick return to hide. "That is not very nice! I said wonderful things about you!"

Atticus ignored Mason for the moment as he made his way over to Asia, placing some of the gear he had brought with him into the empty seat beside her. "If you're gonna be traveling with us, you may as well look like you know what you're doing. So I've brought you a spare helmet, coat and boots that I've had for some time. It's nothing special, but it won't stain as easily as that white gear your Ghost made you." He removed the shotgun he had slung over his shoulder and placed it with the rest of the gear. "And I didn't have much in the way spare weapons, but this shottie has gotten me out of some tight jams before. Hopefully it'll do the same for you."

[Assistant]
Cecelia looked over at the freshly awoken Guardian and felt sympathy, but didn't want to make her feel pitied. "Hey, don't worry about what you think of your skill, Asia. First of all, everyone here was a fresh Guardian at some point, and two: this is no Guardian's first time in life. Ghosts have... awakened our bodies from basically a hibernation. You have talent in you, you just need to... remember what it is. We can tell by that bond on you that you're a Warlock. You don't have anything to live up to. You're a blank slate. Each of us has some standard that either we ourselves have set on us or some entity has forced upon us. You got nothin. You can be whatever you want. Except an agent of Darkness. Then we'd have to kill ya, and nobody wants to do that." With a joking smirk at her last two statements, she completes the smile and nods at the young Warlock.
 "Also," Cecelia adds, "if you need another weapon, I can help procure one from an enemy, if you need. I know they have a tendency to go 'POOF' into the darkness after they're killed, but I have taken some weapons from live ones and used them. They don't go 'poof' like the enemies do. Except Vex arms. At any rate, I know this cause Einstein's used that as a challenge of some sort. Each one that I succeeded, I might add." Putting emphasis and a sideways glance at Einstein during the last sentence, Einsteing does the ghost equivalent of rolling his eyes and flashes away. Probably to check out the systems, in case he does have to fly it at some point. "So, What style of fighting do the rest of you do? Cause I can be front-line, in-their-face with my pistol, or I can be ranged support with my sniper. Just tell me which I need to be and I'll be it. Though, if I'm going to be ranged support, I'd prefer to have someone with an auto, scout or pulse rifle with them in case we get rushed. Don't wanna waste sniper rounds on running enemies. Harder for headshots. And my pistol isn't very effective much farther than point-blank-headshot-range. Just sayin."


[System]
Sex: F

Age: 17

House: Dark Magician House

Appearance: "Very well. Please, show me something amusing."

Duel Disk: Ayami's Duel Disk is shaped a bit like the section of a snowflake, with a design similar to this one. It is a light blue bordering on white, and reflects light similarly (and thus shines when in use).

Personality: Ayami is a bit of a cold person and often comes off as somewhat emotionless at times, causing people to tend to not wanting to interact with her more often than not. As a result, she spends much of her time reading books and stories or watching duel replays online, which only furthers her image as a 'person who acts as if she is higher than everyone else'. That's not really the case, though; while she does have money and does seem like she is disinterested in most things, it does not affect her opinion of people. As a result, Ayami does not hold back against any challengers, for that would not only be disrespectful, but also quite irritating upon herself.

History: The child of an investment banker and a writer, Ayami's life was spent in relative solitude and luxury. She was always surrounded by books and stories that her facter (the latter) would always read to her, planting a deep-seated respect for literature that would keep fast into her adolesence. While her family did have enough of an income to purchase whatever they decided on (within reason), Ayami never desired anything. While her mother was perfectly okay with that facet of Ayami's personality, her father was thoroughly confounded and sought to figure out what his daughter wanted (because it was admittedly difficult to obtain gifts with more variety than 'book' and 'foreign book'). His problems came to a close when he saw Ayami holding a Yu-Gi-Oh card one day and seemed to be looking at it with some degree of intrigue. Taking this as an opportunity, Ayami's father quickly got to work buying cards to assemble his daughter a deck that would work well with the card she seemed to be so curious about.
Years came and went, and Ayami continued to refine that deck ever so slowly before her father suggested she try enrolling in the Saotome Duel Institute, which itself was a sugegstion of one of his old friends. With no real reason to decline, Ayami accepted the offer and has been studying there ever since.

Wish: To find life more 'exciting' than it is now.

Deck: * 2x Manju of the Ten Thousand Hands
* 1x Ariel, Priestess of the Nekroz
* 1x Dance Princess of the Nekroz
* 1x Shurit, Strategist of the Nekroz
* 1x Ghost Ogre and Snow Rabbit
* 1x Effect Veiler
* 1x Nekroz of Decisive Armor
* 1x Nekroz of Trishula
* 2x Nekroz of Valkyrus
* 1x Nekroz of Gungnir
* 2x Nekroz of Brionac
* 3x Nekroz of Unicore
* 2x Nekroz of Clausolas
* 1x Hira, Light of the Nekroz*

* 1x Night Beam
* 2x Reinforcement of the Army
* 3x Preparation of Rites
* 2x Nekroz Mirror
* 2x Nekroz Kaleidoscope
* 2x Nekroz Cycle
* 2x Twin Twisters
* 1x Pot of Dichotomy

* 1x Storming Mirror Force
* 1x Solemn Strike
* 1x Dimensional Prison
* 1x Bottomless Trap Hole
* 1x Nekroz Altar*

* 3x Herald of the Arc Light

Hira, Light of the Nekroz [Solar Legacy]
Level 2 Spellcaster type Effect Monster
500 ATK / 1000 DEF
While this card is on the field, all Nekroz Monsters on your side of the field gain 200 ATK.

Nekroz Altar
Counter Trap
When a Monster Special Summoned from the Extra Deck would activate it's effect; negate that target's effect, then you can add one Nekroz Monster from your Graveyard to your hand, except a Ritual Monster. If this card is in the Graveyard: during either player's turn, you can banish this card from your Graveyard; Tribute Monsters from your hand or your side of the field, then Ritual Summon 1 "Nekroz" Monster from your hand whose level exactly equals the total Levels of those monsters. You can only use this effect of "Nekroz Altar" once per turn.

[User]
Fuubi strode around the campus, looking to scope out the competition. He paused beside a fine marble fountain, thrust his left arm into the air (brandishing the duel disk strapped to it in the process), and yelled at the top of his voice!

"Okay-aru! Ret's duel-aru! I, Yagara Fuubi, will accept any opponent-aru!"

Oh boy. He was really playing up his Japanese heritage by horrendously mocking the native language. Not only that, but judging by the way he was waggling his ass as he spoke, he must have thought himself to be a real hot customer. Were Yugi here, he'd probably see a fair bit of comparison between this chump and that creepy little Weevil fella. Both were short, ugly, rude, and arrogant.

[Assistant]
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away...

Aya stared at her reflection in the window. She looked terrible. It has been a mistake to sleep aboard the plane, and her decision to come on the thing dressed in her school uniform had only made things worse. She'd spent the night tossing and turning in unfamiliar clothes, and boy did it show on her face. Her hair, usually curly and flowing, had managed to entangle itself into a black Gordian knot of criss crossing locks, and her eyes had the sunken look of a Verdun veteran. At least she'd managed to sleep through the landing. Everywhere around her, people were shuffling, pulling bags out of compartments and out from under seats, grabbing everything they could remember and shuffling out towards the exit. She waited until last, taking a few minutes to properly wake herself up, before rummaging around through some of the stuff people had left behind. Somebody had left a card stuck between an in flight magazine as an impromptu bookmark. Score!

Customs and immigration was easy, baggage claim was a pain, but before too long, Aya had left the air-conditioned space of the airport and stepped, blinking and unsure of herself into the bright and sunny day that surrounded Haneda airport like a big pillowy mattress. She was thankful to step inside the air-conditioned space of Saotome's school bus instead, even the few seconds she'd spent outside in this heat had made her start sweating like a pig. As if her looks couldn't have gotten any worse today; between the heat and the humidity outside, she wasn't so much wearing her uniform as much as she was stuck to the inside of it, like food in a clingfilm wrapper that was slowly shrinking and tightening around her.

She took a seat near the front. Always a safe choice, being close to where the adults nearly always sat, and since everybody else usually took a seat near the back, it was also likely not to fill up until the last few people got onboard. She sat down, conscienciously facing her body toward the aisle down the middle. You never got a second chance to make a first impression, and she could size up a few of her studants before they'd been officially introduced, try and pick out a few of the nicer kids and try to establish a quick friendship never failed to pay off.

[User]
CAAAAAAAAW

The lone eagle shrieked out before fading away into the overcast sky. What that bird left behind in its flight was a grey overpass which overlooked a closed roadway. Construction machines seemed to be left behind on some partially prepared ground. There was hardly a sound here except for when the air blew through.

And of course, the mechanical rumbling of an engine. The Ghoulish Rider, the Traveler of the Highway of Hell sat idly on his machine staring into the distance.

That mysterious figure of Japanese origins may have got Fyodor Leo Konstantinovich to attend this school, but there was not a chance that he would ever ride with those mundane non-Devil worshippers. Nor was that man going to get him to hang out with them on the grounds. But there might've been a more important detail Fyodor considered.

He needed to test suitable brooding spots for monologuing.

Fyodor got off the motorcycle and marched a few steps towards the side of the bridge. He stomped his right foot on the side of the overpass. He lunged both of his arms to the side as he entered into a soliloquy.

"GWAHAH HA HA!" Guffawed the Ghoulish Rider, the Traveler of the Highway of Hell. With his arms still extended, Fyodor swiftly slammed them together and intertwined his gloved hands in some mockery of a prayer.

"Oh Infernal Host, Almighty Devil.
 Demon who brought me salvation
 For you I provide this narration.
 Flesh be torn
 And blood be spilt.
 I shall fill the graves with goodness.
 Upon which we shall erect your throne.
 Devil you shall be sworn
 As the rightful ruler of flesh and bone."

"Amen."

Fyodor marched back towards his motorcycle and gazed back at what he was initially watching in the distance. The Duel Academy was waiting, and more importantly, his blasphemous quest which the Devil requested of him.

After a few revs, The Ghoulish Rider, Traveler of the Highway of Hell began laughing maniacally as he rode towards the school.

[Assistant]
The quiet turning of the pages of a book and the sounds of the music emanating from her phone's earbuds were the only noises Ayami was aware of during her time waiting in the car. She found it much less of a hassle to ride on public transportation, though, insistent as her parents were on having someone drive her to the school instead; something about riding a bus or a train was considerably less motion sickness-inducing. Her home in Shinjuku would have been more useful if the school was within the prefecture, but complaining at this point was next to worthless. She had already made clear that she'd ride the bus over to her parents, but even so they still insisted on at least driving her to the airport...

Even if the subway was much more efficient. To give them credit, though, the lack of any major traffic jams en route made the trip less irritating (if not stalled by pedestrians as it would have been anyways).

As the car finally came to a stop, Ayami thanked the driver and placed a bookmark on the center of the page of the book she was on before clapping it shut and slipping it into her bag before exiting the vehicle. Walking around to grab her belongings from the trunk, the young woman nodded to the driver as she took the last of them out and closed the trunk, silently watching as he drove to... Wherever his next destination was.

With her bags gripped firmly in her hands, Ayami walked over to where all the other students were gathering, opting to remain silent as those around her continued to chatter amongst themselves. The heat was a bit of a nuisance, yes, but nothing too unbearable. She ignored the teacher who had been sent to pick them up for the most part, though; trying too hard to appeal and be 'intriguing' was, to her, quite a dull way of doing things.

When the students finally began to fill the buses, Ayami let out a sigh of relief, quiet as it was; it had taken far too long to handle such a thing, and she had honestly wondered for a while why they hadn't just sent them into the buses to begin with. It was a much better way of handling something like ferrying students off to the school, and since the administration was likely to just take attendance there, it would have been much faster to send buses off as they filled up rather than sending them all at once.

She had no room to criticize, though; maybe that was just how the school handled things. Maybe it was faster this way. Maybe it was because the drivers were probably hired for the job and only one knew the route by heart?

...All things considered, it was probably the last of that set. It wasn't as if she knew how schools operated that well, anyhow; far too tedious for her to entertain the though of even dealing with administrative issues.

Taking a seat near the front of the bus she was on (the back was far too unstable for her liking), the student-to-be quietly tucked her bags away and took out her book again, wishing to continue her read as the ride went along. If someone spoke to her, she would return in kind, but it seemed as if most everyone else was occupied on their own. No matter; reading alone was fine, too.


[System]
Age: 26

Appearance: Mal has been blessed with an all encompassing charm. His eyes are a deep sea blue that could drown someone that looked too deeply, his hair is thick and as black as a demon's heart. He sports a small ponytail tied up to trail down his neck, effortlessly worn. His jawline is positively distracting and his nose perfectly proportioned, only matched by his lean body of trim muscles. He tends to wear business casual, generally a vest over a white dress shirt and well tailored pants. It's only when he has to appear in public, however. He much prefers his darkly colored mystic's robes. The one quality that he could do without is a brand on his left shoulder he is careful to cover up at all times; four great black marks, like claw marks of black ink, the demon Mephistopheles cursed him with the day they met, long ago.

Concept: Suave Sorcerer

Powers/skills:

Magic: Specifically manipulation of mystic forces, the unbinding of curses, and conjuration. Most spells beyond cantrips require a conduit like a staff.

Devilishly Handsome: Malcador is easy on the eyes, and he'll use it to his advantage.

Lying: He's a swindler and a consummate liar. His voice is smooth and enticing, and that only helps his normal ease at the vice. He had to learn it growing up in and out of the streets and foster care.

History Degree: Graduated from the University of Stanford with a Bachelor's.

Staff: (See Jaelle Codona's sheet)

Things Your Character Wants to Happen (probably wont):

Parents: The rescuing of his parents souls.

Jaelle: The rescuing of Jaelle's spirit.

Things You as a Writer Wants to Happen (Maybe will):

The Book: Finding the Book of Black Malediction. Some say it could bind Mephistopheles and call upon greater demonic powers to control the diabolic.

Tomb: Finding the Tomb of Merlin. Merlin was a hero of his growing up, and he very much wishes to locate and appropriating his trappings and teachings.

Ladies: He likes 'em

Writing Sample? - Excuse me? Please. I am a professional now.

Eleanor Tregellen: What do I think of Ellie? I don't really think of her more than "boss," though I respect her dedication to her responsibilities. Usually people ask her what she thinks of me, and she gives the loveliest anecdotes of my prior activities. Still, I could do without the hard looks once in awhile. I might have my problems, but I work as hard as anyone. Still, she's smart as a whip. Oh, I have to admit Eleanor does have grand taste in women. Emma is a amazing.

Jaelle Codona: Sometimes I cannot imagine my life without her, and other times I wish she was tangible so I could smack her on the back of the head. She reminds me of a few girls I knew at the orphanage, in that capacity. Still, I care about her. She's a very good friend, even if she can be a giant pain in the ass.

Fynn Laplace: A stand-up fellow, a bit boorish sometimes, but he is certainly amusing and a fine friend to have when there's need for either software or hardware. Truth be told, we get along quite well, even if he gives a few snide comments here or there. Keeps me on my toes.

Primrose Chastain: Primrose is bit posh, but I admire her dedication for her attempt at bringing aristocracy to the 21st century. I could never date her, though. A bit too much like me for my tastes. Still, glad to have her on the team.

Alyx Bellamy: She is a delight! We don't always see eye to eye, but I love it when she gives me and anyone else a piece of her mind. It gets my own mind racing and brings me back to reality if I'm distracted by anything unbecoming. It's always fun making her smile, but I admit I try not to read for too lengthy of a time at the office, because I get the feeling a locked door won't keep her away if she needs something, and I feel more guilty avoiding her than I do Eleanor.

[User]
Fynn LaPlace

Hey Eleanor,

Mrs. Primrose and I are on our way to 'Madame Lafitte's' just in case you want to know. Would appreciate if you'd call back because we're worried.

P.S.: You could finally grant me the budget to develop my gun blast recognition software. Like voice recognition, you remember ? Just triggering on shots fired and certain people moaning in agony instead to send automated notifications...

This was so completely unnecessary! People actually having to call others manually in order to inform them of trouble just felt like such an antiquated thing at times. Much less antiquated however was the small drone Fynn started to assemble on his lap while they were driving to the club.

"Nothing like good reconnaissance..." he mumbled as he inserted the battery pack and gave the camera lens a decent cleanup. He could have thrown the thing out the window and used the remote control to guide it all around the traffic jams and red lights to the club directly, but experience dictated that other drivers on the adjacent lane could respond in a rather confused and irritated manner upon flying objects appearing in front fo their wind shield. Also he had somewhat promised Primrose to do some online research as well and couldn't do both at the same time.

With his rather large laptop on his hands, Fynn browsed for the club's own homepage at first. "Seems pretty standard to me, though I can already tell I won't like the music played there. However there's a member login. Maybe they're hiding something behind that ? Could try to find a way in." There also was the darknet, a rather abstract but also vast space Fynn was not unfamiliar with, even though more on the investigative side than anything else. Aside from a bunch of drug dealers stupid enough to openly announce they'd sell their stuff at some dark hours near the club's array of garbage dumps however there was nothing conspicuous to find it seemed.

[Assistant]
One of the strangest things about being a wraith was how real Jaelle still felt. When she touched her skin, it felt as warm and alive as it always had. She moved as she used to, breathed as she used to, and when the destroyer of worlds erupted in the center of a back-water gas station, her stomach dropped just like a living person's might.

Got she hoped Mal had killed them. And not killed himself in the process.

"What was that?" If possible, Debbie Peterson's voice had doubled in pitch, and her face had gone deathly pale. She reached out as if to grip Jaelle's arm, but Jaelle stepped back before the other woman realized she wasn't actually all there. "Were those men terrorists?!"

"I didn't even see the bomb!" Liam Peterson said.

Jaelle held up her hands. "Let's not jump to conclusions. I'll just—"

A spray of gunfire interrupted her, and Jaelle went cold. Mal hadn't killed them. How was that possible? Nothing could have survived that blast. Nothing. Unless someone else was shooting. Had the police come back? Were they firing on Mal cause they didn't understand?

Liam pulled his wife down—the most sensible thing either of them had done recently. Jaelle copied the movement as though there was any chance that a stray bullet might actually hurt her. From the road behind them, the sound of squealing tires pierced the thick, Louisiana air, and Debbie looked more horrified by this than anything that had happened so far. "They're getting away?!"

"We don't know that," Jaelle said. "That might have been back up arriving. I'll go check. You two stay here. You are now important witnesses and your testimony is vital for your country. If you call yourselves patriots, you'll protect that information by laying low."

A bit theatrical, perhaps, but Jaelle had half-learned English through Netflix.

It seemed to work for Liam. He gave her a stalwart nod, and Jaelle had to give it to Eleanor. There was magic in a sharp blouse. Something that made you look like you knew what you were doing.

"Alright. I'll return soon."

As soon as she was out of sight, Jaelle ran, blurring through trees rather than bothering to go around them. She hit the washed-out concrete in half the time it had taken her to get the Petersons away, once again invisible to the mortal eye. The lot was a wreck. Debris lay everywhere, a rainbow of garish advertising beneath shattered glass, cinderblock, and burning insulation. It smelled horrible.

The black car was still there, one of its tires blown out so that it sagged, lopsided onto a steel wheel. A still corpse lay against one of the pumps, its head gone but the rest of the body untouched. It was male and entirely hairless.

Jaelle couldn't bring herself to look into the gas station where she had last seen Mal. Couldn't bring herself to check if his body was still whole or if he had impaled himself on debris from his own explosion.

Compared to that horror, to the return of existing alone while she slowly lost herself to the degradation of mind that awaited a soul without a body, dealing with the corpse was easy. When Jaelle was born, some few hundred years before the current day, people had not been so good at hiding death. They died more often, for one. No more fragile but much worse equipped to deal with the uncertainties of illness and injury. There was not the same availability of chemical preservatives, and families of the Roma cared for the bodies of their deceased.
Jaelle was no stranger to the bodies of the dead.

She crouched down beside it, looking for tattoos or sigils or other identifying marks. There was nothing on his skin that she could make out, but something odd shined from his mangled neck. Silver ichor dripped from wire flashing that seemed to disappear into his spine where nerves ought to have been according to the seventh-grade anatomy home-school course that she'd watched on Youtube. More nodes mixed in the pulverized contents of his skull, a soup of grey matter and machine. Jaelle turned away, reeling. If she could have vomited just then, she would have, but she hadn't eaten in three centuries.

That left only Mal. Hidden in the remains of the gas station. She was going to have to go in there. There was no one else.

The thing that made feeling real so incredibly odd was that nothing else ever did. The flames still licking around the gas station's ruined entrance did not warm her, and the hanging metal beams did not cut or bar her way. Jaelle moved through it all, this endless dreamland of her not-life, looking for the person who had rescued her from the void.

"Mal! I swear to GOD if you're dead, I'm going to find your spirit and kill you!" She wouldn't, really. But still, it was the principle of the thing. "Mal!!!"


[System]
Gender: M

Age: 26

Career/Class:Soldier / Ex-Soldier

Weapons:
* Basket Hilted Broadsword
* Imperial Dagger
* Norscan round Shield (Took from his first felled enemy)
* Aged Pistol

Physical Description Cyrdic is tall and lean, but solidly built, standing an inch over 6 feet in height. His eyes are reminiscent of shaped wrought iron. His face is ruddy and echoes a youthful appearance, though battles and training had roughed him into the look of a mature soldier. He has quite the rugged quality about him. Two scars mar his face. One parallel to the bottom of his left eye, and another scraping across his right jawline. His legs are long and his his facial hair is only a coarse, 5'oclock shadow thanks to his knife. He's clad in fine and tough leather over a chainmail hauberk, with sturdy traveling shoes and a worn belt.

Mental Description/Personality: Cyrdic isn't a fool. He spent a year apprenticed to a Quartermaster (as punishment for recklessness) and learned how to read and write (to a degree). The best way to describe him would be a hardened, rough soldier at the brink of his youth. He'll use what he can in his disposal to win, though half the time it turns out he'll need to fuck someone up anyway. His fierce independence and rough nature can only be matched by his determination to survive. He's not tactically intelligent, but he has a sense of how battlefields shift and can command smaller troops with his powerful voice. He tends to have a take-no-shit (unless it's from a superior officer) lookout on life. He's amiable to certain people however, and will have a dry wit around those he enjoys (or to people he wishes he could be more honest with). While fighting and killing and marching has been his entire life, he's not particularly fond of being thrust into impossible situations and doesn't lack a healthy sense of self preservation. He's gotten quite tired of working for corrupt officers. He's a devout Sigmarite thanks to his upbringing, and has a hammer chained necklace upon his breast to signify this.

[User]
Cyrdic had noticed the ethereal woman, too. He leaned over closer to Camilla to get a better look, before a meeting he couldn't have anticipated transpired almost too quickly for him to grasp, and in all honesty it happened so fast Cyrdic wasn't sure he was comfortable with it. Not to say he didn't trust Camilla and her judgements on who to befriend, but still.

To say Cyrdic was nonplussed would be an understatement. He had heard Camilla whisper enough Tilean to where he was beginning to not feel completely lost if he heard it, but he had caught less than half of their conversation before they began to speak in Reikspeil.

When the hand was thrust out for him to shake, he glanced at a bewildered but otherwise happy Camilla, and he decided he wouldn't be the jealous type. "Lucky," Cyrdic replied honestly. Images of the past few months and all of the times they saved one another passed through his head. Cyrdic's handshake was strong, and this Tilean shook his hand to match his strength. If Cyrdic didn't know any better, he would have felt the man didn't want to be shown up in any way. He certainly had the look of someone with an ego.

"It's good to meet a friend of Camilla's" The Northman said and finished the handshake, sitting down next to his companion once more. He smiled, letting Ricardo know he was fine to sit with them. "So what brings you to Marienburg?" He asked, taking one of the closed bottles on the ground (probably knocked off by the Kislevites), popping off the cork to begin and refill their glasses, and fill Riccardo's up if he gestured for it.

The lack of howling from his sword helped keep Cyrdic somewhat at ease. No Chaos taint anywhere near here. Just a rowdy tavern in a bustling city, he told himself...

[Assistant]
Camilla's head was still spinning as Ricardo streched out, leaning back on his chair and allowing Cydric to fill his cup.

"To wives and lovers," he proposed, lifting his cup.

"May they never meet," Camilla completed and they drank down the toast.

"Yes why are you here? Its a long way from Tratino," Camilla inquired eagerly leaning forward to listen to the tale. Ricardo smiled, clearly enjoying the audience. He had changed since she had last met him, he was harder and leaner but the young man she knew was still there. She remembered watching him leap across a wide boulevard from roof to roof with the watch in pursuit, risk his last coin on a turn of the cards. They were pleasant warm memories of the Tilean summer but that seemed very far away.

"It is a long way," Ricardo agreed, "as my ass reminds me to this very moment." He made a theatrical show of rubbing his rump and Camilla couldn't help but snort in amusement even though most of the journey had to have been made by sea. He grinned and then his face grew serious and he leaned in close.

"I have been given a task by the Contessa Di Raiario," he said conspiratorially. Ricardo turned a sidelong glance to Camilla.

"Certamente siamo amanti professionali," he added for her benifit.

"Naturalmente io sottolineo," Camilla nodded her understanding.

"Something very valuable has been stolen from her," Richardo's Tielan accented Reikspiel sounded like it had too many syllables and rendered very valuable closer to berry baluable.

"A piece from her Arabyian collection," he went on. Camilla blinked in shock.

"Maria Di Raiario is one of the foremost collectors of Arabyian artefacts and curios in Tilea," she translated for Cydric. Some of those pieces were solid gold, some were rumored to be from fabled Khemri. They were also supposed to be amongst the most heavily protected collections in the land. Contessa Raiario was a notorious paranoid and kept a small army of mercenaries at her beck and call.

"Tutto questo per un trinket degli amanti? Sembra un po 'molto," Camilla said skeptically, momentarily forgetting that Cydric didn't speak tilean. Ricardo spread his hands as if a fair point had been made.

"There is money Camilla, of course there is money, but you are right. People start wondering how such a thing could be stolen, it wouldn't be a big leap to start asking how the Contessa's new companion might be involved. Dios, If I thought I could manage it I would have just ridden for Pavona or some other place and waited it out." Ricardo took another long drink and Camilla could tell that despite his outward facade the man really was concerned.

"Maybe you too would be interested in helping, like I said there is money," he rubbed his fingers together in emphasis.

[User]
Cyrdic doubted many of his old lads would have taken much from the conversation other than the words 'countess' and 'gold' which granted, was all Cyrdic needed to hear to consider the prospect. The lands of Araby brought to him visions of a place he had never seen before, nor imagined was truly real to his sensibilities. The old quartermaster had told him stories of the place, a land of naught but sand dunes, with islands of city states filled with magic and gold.

Despite himself, he felt a bit of trepidation. If he was being truthful, he'd rather face a bloody skirmish with Norscans than be involved with anything mysterious south of the Old World. But they were in need of money, and Camilla trusted this man. He supposed making dealings with shady contacts in a Marienburg tavern wasn't too far fetched for traveling sellswords like them.

"I'm in," he said bluntly, taking his flagon and draining it with a large swig. His cup 'clapped' onto the table. He didn't realize that Ricardo had been looking more at Cyrdic than Camilla when he offered, as if he expected the woman to be on board.

"Excellent," the Tilean said, his smile wide and almost predatory, showing his teeth. "Remember my friend, this will require a certain subtlety, however..." His accent sounded very much smoother than Cyrdic's rough speech. It was odd to hear a male speaking with such an accent. Ricardo looked to Camilla, to see if she'd vouche for Cyrdic's abilities.

Behind them, an uproarious amount of laughter and hoots came from a few Middenlanders at the bar, and one held his hands up in mock victory as if to rally his fellows to greater heights of revelry.

[Assistant]
Camilla nodded enthusiastically hoping Ricardo would have some of this alleged money upfront. It was a long way to Tilea if he were expecting to get back home before he collected his reward. Richardo looked fairly well heeled though, he must have bought some money with him. Even if he had been living as the Contessa's lover he would have laid some money aside, it was nearly the first thing one did after securing the affections of a patron.

"Cydric can do subtle," Camilla confirmed, he had managed to fool the court of Middenheim after all. Ricardo slammed his cup down on the table in enthusiasm, his smile radiant.

"Da dios piccola uccella, with your help I am sure we can recover it! Listen I'll tell you what I have found so far," the Tilean leaned in, spreading his hands but before he could begin to speak the noise behind him swelled in intensity. Good natured shouts began to devolve into snarls as the Middenlanders collided with the Kislivite contingent. A drink was emptied over one of the northeners and within moments they were on their feet shoving each other. One of the Middenlanders, a burly blonde giant with an eyepatch bought a tankard down on a Kislivite with shattering force, and suddenly the brawl was on.

"Damn it," Camilla sighed, looking around for another exit, but it seemed there would be little option. The men were surging towards them and she barely had time to get to her feet before they crashed into the table, upending it in a spray of watery ale. Ricardo was a fraction slower than she and his chair was kicked out from under him. The Tielan let out an outraged sqwak as he fell onto the straw covered ground, already rolling to avoid being trampled. Before he could right himself a boot caught him in the chest, driving the air from his lungs. Camilla ducked behind Cydric as was her custom, using her friend to avoid being jostled. Consequently she was probably the only person in the bar who saw the blond Middenlander pull a short bladed knife from his sleeve and drive it downward at the prone Ricardo.

Even taken by surprise and winded Ricardo was fast. He grabbed his chair one handed and slammed it upward at the Middenlander the fragile wood splintering under the force of the downward blow. He tried to twist it to disarm the man, a classic duelist trick, but the Middenlander let go of the knife and delivered a stomping kick to the Tilean's stomach, clearly content to stomp the man to death if the easier option were denied to him.

"Cydric!" yelled thrusting her finger towards the scuffle, even as one of the Kislivite's threw a punch at the Ostlander.


[System]
Appearance:
Age: 25

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Bisexual

Role: Cook

Personality: Normally friendly and polite, but she's easily irritated and snaps/talks back a lot. She makes a lot of food that would be considered exotic (bushmeat, strange plants, insects, grubs) and hates it if anyone complains. In the event that there is a complaint...well, you're going to have to go out and forage, because she won't feed you unless she's forced to. When she is not cooking or directly planning meals, one can usually find her testing the plants on the island to determine whether they're poisonous. Finding natural salt deposits makes her practically swoon! Although she usually just gets it from distilling seawater. She likes cookbooks with strange recipes. Funny enough, her favorite food is fish (uh oh!). But she wouldn't be unfriendly to a mermaid; she might make a joke about calamari.

Bio: Luz grew up on the main continent, and she was a preteen when the dictator took over. Her mother, the only parent she had, after a year of this madness, told Luz of her plan: they would commit suicide together. Luz, too terrified to say no, agreed to the plan, but when it came to it she didn't have the courage to drink the poisoned water. Her mother, having already downed the whole glass, died slowly in front of her, so she just left.
She lived a few years on the street after that, carefully avoiding other people, and was very nearly recruited into sex trafficking at 16. Luckily, a few rebels picked a fight with the shady creep who'd found her sleeping under a bridge, and they got Luz out of there. Not wanting a useless new teenage crew member, they taught her multiple trades; the one she loved the most and was best at was cooking, and she's been getting better and better ever since.
She made sure to obtain plenty of books on nutrition, and steal a good number of citrus fruits, before setting sail with the Phoenix Pirates.

[User]
Balon sighed in comfort. A hot water spring, who would've thought! Setting foot on land after weeks on the ship was such a relief... Maybe now, they would finally be able to find peace. Being a handy man, and somewhat of a "do-what-I-feel-like"-guy, he had decided to build his home among the trees. A treehouse near the northern clearing, near the beautiful flowers and the meadow. It had taken longer and he had to pay (or bribe) some of the passagers to help him build it, and sure it wasn't very big but it was comfortably living up in the trees with such a beautiful view.

Resting his arms and head on the edge of the hot water spring, he sighed once more. "Isn't this just the best thing?" he said to Blythe. "Free of responsibility of the homeland, no longer the feeling of being constantly hunted... No longer fearing for our lives!" he smiled and closed his eyes. "This is paradise."
Little did he know, however, that the merfolk were aware of their pressence on the island... And probably watching them this very moment.
"Hey, why'd you try to jump off that darn cliff anyway?" he said, exhaling the smoke of his cigarette like always.

[Assistant]
Now that the ordeal of stopping the Captain from leaping off of a cliff had thankfully ended, Luz could finally relax and breathe in the wonderful, tropical, free air of the island. She was immensely pleased because on top of all the perks the island had, there were also coconuts near the shore. She'd had to climb up one of the trees and knock some green ones off of the branch, and now, with slightly-achey muscles, she cracked them against a rock and poured the water into cups for the crew. She'd decided that she'd wait to use the hot spring until she could get a moment alone.
More pressing, though, was the fact that up to the north there was a lake full of fish. Fresh fish...the thought made Luz salivate. She was absolutely going to head up there and fish later.

[User]
Blythe was floating on his back in the spring and chuckled while answering Balon's question. "I just thought it'd be fun, I just forgot a drop that high would kill me." He agreed with Balon. Living on this island away from all the violence was fantastic. Blythe wouldn't mind growing old and dying in this place. Meanwhile Drake was creating make-shift poles at the lake. Passengers had started fishing either with the poles or spears. A purple haired woman with a very pointy spear. "Wow where did you get that? And what happened to your hair?" Drake tried to recognize what passenger this person was but could not recall. "Who... are you exactly?"

"O-oh I'm uh... From your boat." The jellyfish mermaid was very nervous. She had never been this close to a human before. She didn't want to hurt him but the queen's orders were to capture them all. This one seemed the smallest and most vulnerable. Once the humans get busy I'll stab his legs and take him under the ocean, she thought. At first she felt bad for the human, he seemed innocent, then she remembered her days of being a slave. Not only was this a human, but he was also a man. Her sympathy left her and she was ready to attack the human when the time became right.

"I think I'd remember someone with pink hair... Whatever, what do you need?"

"Um.. A fishing pole?" The thought of sticking a hook through a fishes mouth disgusted her.

[Assistant] "How do you even capture a human?!" Amphi was frantically pacing back and forth in the trees, it was always much easier to pace with legs. " Do you stuff them in a bag?" Making hand gestures as she thought aloud, almost completely oblivious to her surroundings. "Or maybe i'll hit them with a stick and tie them up, yeah that's good!" She stops dead in her tracks. "...but then how would i move them?...And what if they woke up?!" Amphi started pacing again her panic rising as she started to pull at her hair. She sighed and leaned against a tree, seeking any sort of stability. She reached out to a young sapling growing to her left, caressing its leaves, wishing that maybe one day she could be a tree. " I know i'm hopeless aren't I? I probably couldn't even get close enough to a human to hit them with a stick. I'd probably just run away like i always do." As the panic started to ebb away it was soon replaced with dread. "Gaahhh, it's the queen so I at least have to try, right? If i just gave up, it would be like giving up on our home. On the other hand if I did try i would probably end up captured and then what? Would I end up dead,...or worse?" Amphi curled into a ball, trying to hold herself together. "Maybe i'll just live out the rest of my life as a fish."

[User] Blythe decided to cool off by taking a walk on the island. The cool air felt nice on his bare chest. He spent way too long in that hot spring. A pineapple tree caught his eyes and as it did his stomach growled. He climbed to the top and grabbed one. Forgetting the fact that prickly things hurt the captain yelped in pain and fell from the tree right next to a curled up Mermaid. He got up and brushed himself off. "'Allo lass! How are ya? You seem troubled?" He gave her a kind and charismatic smile.

[Assistant] Frozen in absolute terror with large tears rolling down her face Amphi was still curled up next to the tree. great. her worst nightmare has come to life. Humans were now falling from the sky. She couldn't move and she kept trying to breathe but no matter how much air she took in she felt as if she couldn't get any in. Her breath got quicker and quicker as panic started to overwhelm her. Everything got blury and her heart beat faster and faster until the world went dark. (she hyperventilated then passed out.)

[User] Blythe chuckled at how silly this girl was being. "I can't believe she fainted! Haha, I guess I should take her to our doctor." Blythe picked her up like a damsel in distress and carried her back to camp... When he arrived he set her down in a hut and put a blanket over her. "Poor thing is too frail." Blythe said examining the girl. "Better get Luz to cook her something up too, she's so thin." Blythe left her alone to go and grab the doctor and Luz.

[Assistant]
Luz had just stepped out of the cave, hoping to go fishing in the lake. She had been itching to get to work on that front ever since the rich lake had been discovered, and not noticing Blythe approaching from a distance, she clapped her hands and rubbed them together in a plotting sort of way. She muttered aloud to herself: "We're having fish for dinner tonight. Mwaha!" She could not be more excited to have fresh fish after all that time over empty ocean where resources had been scant.
She put her long red hair in a neat ponytail and checked that her supplies were on her: a good sharp knife, a longer blade for cutting through foliage, a canteen full of water and some hardtack in case she happened to get lost out in the tropical landscape. After that she tightened the ties on her boots; she didn't want them to come off if she had to wade into a muddy lake.

[User]
Balon followed Blythe with his gaze as he left the spring. He himself decided to stay a bit longer. Sure, they had been there all morning, but it was just -too- comfortable to leave now. He looked behind him where his clothes were neatly stacked with both his swords on top, and snickered. Though he had become quite the scoundrel over the years as a rebel, he still kept some habits from the royal guard... Such as: always look presentable. Always stack your clothes neatly. Always keep your hair and beard trimmed. And most importantly: always keep your swords maintained and -close-. They were just a hand's length away, like always. He never kept them further than that.

Looking around he felt the calm of the island surround him. He closed his eyes and leaned back, sighing once again in comfort and relief. He was alone.

[Assistant]
Leo stepped up onto the beach, shaking out her newly formed legs. It always took her a moment to get her land legs about her but she impatiently forged on. Her heart was in her throat she had just learned that Amphi had been sent on patrol. AMPHI, for Posiden's sake!! As her jello legs got more surly she hastened to a jog. Oh! Where could her dear friend be!! If she was hurt-! Leo's blood chilled and she quickened to a sprint, she didn't know what she would do if Amphi was hurt but she knew that it would be unpleasant for the humans!
Not paying attention to where she was going Leo fell head first into a hot spring. Gasping and sputtering as the hot water stung her lungs Leo Came face to face with a rogueish looking human with a sword sitting within arms reach. it was at moment that Leo realized that she was in such a hurry to come to Amphis rescue that she hadn't even remember to grab her dual short blades. She stared at the human wide eyed, well shit.

[User]
The sound of hasty footsteps made Balon look up, and suddenly someone fell into the water with him! She stuck her head up from the water, looking surprised and staring at him wide-eyed. "Why... Hello there." he said carefully, quite surprised himself. She looked humanoid but not entirely human. Her ears were pointy and her skin a light tone of purple, and she had long white hair. Both his arms were resting against the rocks behind him and he didn't move. "Girls tend to fall for me I admit, but this is something new." he said with but a hint of a grin. He didn't know wether or not to expect trouble or comedy, but he was confident. His swords were close, and few could match him once he had one in his grasp.
He keeps looking at the girl, a brow raised and a playfull grin on his face.

[Assistant] The pink haired mermaid thought the time right to attack Drake and with a quick motion she stabbed him in his left leg. Drake was busy making her a fishing pole so there was no way to dodge. He let out a very loud yelp of pain that was cut off when the mermaid covered his mouth. She then grabbed his arms and started to drag him into the woods. Is this a soldier of the dictator? he thought. Clenching his teeth he wriggled free and started to limp back to base camp. The girl caught up to him easily but not before Drake had a chance to cry for help.


[System]
Age: 18

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Weapon:
Two metal tonfas, Artorius and Gwenhwyfar (formerly Lawnslot). Both are identical, visually, save perhaps a few differences in internal mechanism. In the traditionally held position, the longest part of the body aligning along the forearm, the forward facing post is actually a shotgun barrel; though standard shells are the usual ammunition, dust rounds can be loaded instead. The storage area expands along the spine of the weapon. The recoil is often used for propulsion when useful. The primary length of each tonfa actually has a blade running along it, resembling one half of a sword, to be specific.

This is because both weapons are capable of combining into a large, long sword; Caledfwlch. The two weapons reconfigure in such a way as to create a long, straight two-handed sword with a straight crossguard. The shotgun barrels are reoriented as the crossguard, one pointing to the left and the other to the right, used to enhance the power behind his swings.

Artorius and Gwenhwyfar both have one other unique attribute; high capacity batteries built into their frame. Each battery continuously siphons a supply of Aura from Benjamin, building the energy up so long as they are, in some way, upon his person. This energy can be released with a button built in below the shotguns' triggers, on the handle of the combined blade, or on the handle of the smaller tonfas. The release of this energy usually is used to power his Semblance, and must be replenished over time when discharged.

Joyous Guard
Expansion Calibrated for Ultimate Resistance
B. Lloyd #8 of 7

An expansion device manufactured to work in conjunction with Artorius and Gwenhwyfar. In its default form the Joyous Guard is a tower shield, large and incredibly heavy. Two racks are integrated into its back side for holding the two tonfa when not in use. It can be held in hand, affixed to the forearm (vertically or horizontally) or stored on Benjamin's back. The top and bottom sides taper off into wedges, enabling it to be used as an offensive bludgeoning weapon when affixed horizontally to the forearm. Its connection to the forearm is carefully designed to ensure that both tonfa are compatible in use when the shield is in play, though Joyous Guard is primarily intended for use with Caletfwlch. The shield is manufactured from dense, durable metals, making it even heavier than it looks. For this reason Gravity Dust was used in its construction, making it nearly weightless in Ben's hand. Notably, however, it is Aura-coded to Ben's Aura; in the hands of anyone not on its whitelist, the Gravity Dust reverses and makes it too heavy to be lifted.

Joyous Guard's secondary configuration requires the use of Artorius and Gwenhwyfar. The shield unfolds, incorporating the transformation mechanisms in both tonfa to provide the necessary components for the configuration. Namely they provide part of the edges and part of the hilt of the immense two-handed sword Joyous Guard becomes. The effects of the Dust carry over in this form, ensuring that Ben can swing it almost as easily as he would Caletfwlch. In fact, due to the nature of F=ma, a swing from it will be many times as devastating with a fraction of the effort. Like Caleftwlch, the shotgun barrels incorporated into the hilt aid in granting increased force to its swings.

Finally, in a tertiary configuration, Joyous Guard can convert while affixed to Ben's forearm by splitting down the middle and orienting the magnetic racks used to hold Artorius and Lawnslot along the two horizontal halves. The Lightning Dust used to generate that magnetic field, in this form, cranks into overdrive to turn the shield into a forearm mounted electromagnetic cannon. Slow-firing, but incredibly potent in its offensive power. Artorius and Lawnslot are absolutely necessary for this configuration, as they provide the additional structural stability needed to let Joyous Guard withstand the considerable forces exerted. As a bonus, however, this makes their shotgun barrels useful in this configuration.
Specialty: Benjamin is a highly adaptable fighter. He lacks dedicated defensive capabilities, but his weapons serve very well as augmentation to forearm blocks. The lightweight nature of his weapons, however, also means that he is a highly agile fighter. His preference is to move as quickly as possible, landing strikes when opportunities present themselves and evading blows (blocking if absolutely unavoidable).

Use of both his Semblance and Caledfwlch is exceedingly rare, to the point that they have not yet been used during his career at Beacon. Both are abilities and options he keeps to himself, aces up the sleeve. Ultimately, his style permits him to act as the situation demands, though the drawback to the continuous siphoning of his Aura, as well as his lack of any dedicated defensive tools, is that his personal defenses are noticeably lower than others'.

Semblance: Deinamig: Benjamin is capable of using Aura to fuel an individual section of his body to well beyond its usual limits. Fueling his legs, for example, will drastically increase both speed and power of his legs, and fueling his arms will do much the same. This can, theoretically, be applied to any section of his body. The Aura for this is usually provided by the resevoirs built up within his weapons, but that supply is not infinite. If a situation arises where he is unable to tap into it (or it runs out) he can directly fuel his Semblance with his present Aura.

Personality: Benjamin is a friendly guy. He also, at first glance through his performance in school, nothing to write home about. Average or slightly above in all his classes, with the only oddities appearing once one takes a closer look. His homework assignments represent minimal effort, while all examination scores actually place him near the top of the grading scale. Between the two, depending on how the class is run, they average out to roughly average grades. In short, Benjamin doesn't bother to do his homework until the last minute, if at all. He conforms to a decidedly nonstandard view of what is important, and what is not. Things he views as "busy work", such as most homework assignments, are treated with at best casual disregard, while things he views as important (tests, examinations, practice, getting to know people) works at. His strange views actually are rooted in a single opinion; if it isn't something he needs to do in order to do well in his life, it doesn't really matter. People skills will be important, combat skills will be important, all of the knowledge he amasses will be important. So he takes his tests and exams seriously, but at the end of the day… Who's going to care, once he leaves Beacon, whether or not his did his vocabulary flash cards?

This practical viewpoint extends to many aspects of his life, but he will always make an effort to get to know people. His wit might be a little sarcastic at times, but anyone who he views as a friend will find that few will go to greater lengths for their friends. Aside from his practicality, which more than a few teachers might instead term "laziness", Ben has one other notable quirk. He seldom fights at full capacity. He believes it is always best to have an ace or two tucked away up the sleeve, so that if a situation ever arises where he simply can't handle it, or needs just a little more power… He has something to draw on.

Color: Steel Gray

Emblem: A single inverted sword set behind a shield emblazoned with a crown device.

Appearance: Benjamin is a few inches short of six feet, making about average height for his gender. He has an athletic build, obviously necessary given his school, but he isn't overly muscular.The fighting style he prefers requires nimble movements, mandating that he maintain both a reasonable muscle mass as well as his agility. A faint grin is his default expression, blue-gray eyes bright with life under slightly messy light brown hair. He wears the Beacon school uniform completely unmodified, though it isn't at all uncommon to see him take the coat off and carry it around. When not attending class (and thus not required to wear his uniform), he tends to default to jeans paired with a black or gray long sleeved shirt. Light but durable boots are his footwear of choice, as his usual field attire simply adds some lightweight gray armor over his torso, and perhaps greaves to his shins. Artorius and Lawsnlot are carried at his belt, one on either side.

[User]
IC: Amaranth sighed, her hand twitching involuntarily as she and the rest of the newly minted team Bastion walked out of the Headmaster's office. She felt... exposed for the first time in her life. They were the rejects, and it didn't take a genius to figure that out. None of them had uniforms, they hadn't been around for the first part of the day... It wasn't difficult. Ordinarily, Amy wouldn't complain about the uniform situation, but it was just another thing separating her from the rest of the school. At least she had thought to wear her toboggan hat today, she thought, pulling it down over her ears–and her feathers.

Isolation, isolation she could deal with. But... for the rest of the school year all four of them would have to be on their toes. Because any tripping up... and team Bastion would be as dead as the Grimm that Unchained Fury had torn apart.

[Assistant] Robert is not the what you think. Yes Rayna may sound mean but she's not insulting Pricilla. If she was I'd tell her to screw off and leave us alone before I would make her leave, but she's just giving Pricilla advice." Greyson said to Robert wanting to calm him before he did anything stupid that he would regret. In all honesty Greyson would never hit a woman but neither would he ever let anyone hurt the feelings of the girl he cared about. Right now Greyson was thinking about how Pricilla would react to Rayna's "constructive criticism"

[User]
Well. That was unexpected.

When he washed out of the entrance exam, Benjamin fully believed that that was the end of it. It would have been worse, too, because it would have been his own fault. His reluctance to use his ace up the sleeve nearly lost him his chance at being a hunter. Now, though, he had another chance. He didn't expect to get it, and he still expected to wake up any minute. Starting on the back foot or not, he had a chance.

The thought was sobering, too. He knew his reputation was starting with a mark against it, and it wasn't just his reputation anymore. If he screwed up, the rest of them would pay for it, too. So he couldn't screw up. He needed to do his best, even if that meant not always having another trick up his sleeve.

Truthfully, there was also the fact that he didn't really know his team all the well. Maybe Ozpin did some team building exercises after the entrance exam or something, but he'd (obviously) missed them. Ben had ended up working with them mostly by chance, and there hadn't been an excessive amount of time to talk since then. He was acutely aware of the girl, probably older than him, with a decidedly nonstandard sense of fashion walking near him. Amy. The other guy on the team, probably same age, maybe a little younger. Trad. And Sangue, the other girl who was probably older than him. And seemed to have one arm.

From the look on Goodwitch's face, she wasn't happy about having a team of exam rejects walking around. He had a bad feeling they'd see that expression again, and not just on her face.

Well. One more obstacle to overcome.

"So, schedule says we're supposed to be in lunch. If I remember how we got to Oz's office right, that'd be down the stair, and to the left, right?"

[Assistant]
The silence from the professor was agonizing. Trad had worked his heart out practicing for the exam, only to fail in misery. It was probably his fault too, he was over protective of his team and got in their way trying to shield them from attacks they most likely could have avoided. That didn't stop him though. He continued his practice and learned from his mistakes during the exam, and as luck would have it, it paid off. Now here he was, in the headmaster's office waiting to hear the verdict. The anxiety was killing him, and the disapproving stares of Ms. Goodwitch only made things worse. Still, he did his best to stand firm and at attention.

Finally Ozpin spoke, reminding him and the others of their humiliation during the exams. He couldn't help but feel this might not be the reconsideration he had hoped for. Then, he heard the words from Ozpin,

"That is why you four are hereby admitted to Beacon Academy"

Trad couldn't help but smile. Despite all that had happened he was now a student of Beacon! His joy was quickly hushed by an even colder stare from Goodwitch, as if to remind him of how thin of ice he would be on.

When the team was dismissed and they all left the office, Trad let out a long sigh,

"I'm not the best when it comes to history, but I think we may be the first rejects to be allowed in."

Trad wasn't sure he could eat just yet, he was still trying to take in the fact that he was now a student. More than that, he was member of a team! Still, they could use the time to get a game plan. Figure out schedules and class locations.

"I think that's the right way. If not I'm sure we'll find it one way or another."

[User]
IC: "It's the right way," Amaranth said, her eyes staying straight ahead, not looking at any of her teammates. "Let's eat before lunch is over, or we're going to have to face the legitimate students with empty stomachs." She looked slightly to the side, sizing up each of the others standing in the hall. Trad and Ben were easy enough to read, Sangue was a little more difficult... She was going to have to get used to them. Sangue, entirely offense, but blunt as anything... Trad, an excellent defender, self styled Guardian of Remnant. Benjamin Lloyd, fast, adaptable... But every sign pointed to him being slacker.

Hell, they were going to have to get used to her. She almost felt sorry for them. Amaranth Desire. If that wasn't a name somebody could judge her by, she didn't know what was. Amaranth Desire, dressed in clothes that would make her grandmother blush... They were all human, too, and while she didn't paint any of them as being prejudiced, they still didn't know she was a... Faunus. Her hand went to the collar around her neck, one finger slipping inside it–was she nervous? Her chest rose and fell in a deep breath, and she sighed.

"Call me Amy. Not Amaranth."

[Assistant]
"Ben. Good to meet you." He extended a hand to shake, the other kept in his pocket. It was kind of funny, Benjamin thought, that he'd gotten to know how they fought, but had yet to actually get to know them. His teammates. Stuck together for four years, if he was lucky, first met days ago, and only now getting around to proper introductions. Showed where all of their priorities were. A faint grin crossed his face, only a moment after he held out his hand.

"Well, officially. Don't really count fighting, though. Isn't really an introduction." Amaranth, he decided, was both one of the easiest to read, and the hardest to work out. Her attire was decidedly... Unusual, and she didn't really look like the type to attend Beacon. Then again, first impressions were remarkably deceptive. Those in glass houses shouldn't throw stones and all that. "Hell of a "welcome to Beacon", huh?"


[System]
Known as: (Callsign) Loken

Species: Human

Gender: Male

Age: 30

Vocation: Naval Intelligence Officer - Special Operations Group

History: Callsign Loken is the name of an agent belonging to the Ministry of Defence's Department of Intelligence. Heavily involved in the events which followed the discovery of The Nomad by his department a few years before his birth. He, and those like him, were left to pick up the pieces of what had been discovered, and keep the truth of the extent of the damage hidden from the masses. He and his department had been those who, along with a few departments of scientists, had discovered the means by which to destroy The Nomad and disable its armies during humanities most desperate hour.

Prior to being known only as Loken, he was a thorough military man, having served in a airborne infantry regiment of the army, taking part in a number of colonisation efforts, quelling insurrections, crushing rebellions, scouring for insurgents, and otherwise securing the peaceful ways of the UWG. Having served for a decade in the army, he passed selection into a branch of the army's special forces, specialising in reconnaissance, counter-insurgency, misinformation, counter-insurgency, training loyalists in planetary separatist civil wars, and so on. He was a skilled soldier, observer, instructor, was at the peak of his physical fitness, and was brutally uncompromising, loyal to the UWG in ways that those outside the departments of intelligence or the armed forces may not understand. These skills and traits are what lead to him being tapped on the shoulder by Department of Naval Intelligence, the largest, most heavily funded and most authoritative of the intelligence branches. It was at that point that Loken was born, and the preceding life he lead ceased to exist on all records.

During his career in the Naval Intelligence Loken has trained anti-insurrectionists, taken part in assassinations, brokered clandestine deals with planetary leaders outside the UWG, and lead combat teams in numerous search and seizure missions in space. The most striking part of his career was his involvement in the recent defeat of The Nomad. Having taken part in the physical battle in space above Earth and leading a team in assistance of the weapon being deployed, Loken played a major role, as did those under his command. Following the war, Loken has lead a small team of five men aboard a number of vessels to numerous planets in efforts to gather evidence of their weapon, and to control the information that was exposed to the public.

Miscellaneous: Unofficially in command of the UWG Scythian.

[User]
@Elevation

Dalry heard Miranda's warning to hide, but she couldn't move. She couldn't will her legs to get up. She might be able to open her eyes, but she didn't want to. She couldn't cope with this. With being thrown back into the chaos and gunfire. If she shut it out for long enough, it might die down, or put her out of her misery. She din't know which one she'd prefer, but she'd prefer both to having to face the chaos again.

She felt herself getting lifted up, and gasped in relief, grabbing a tight hold of the soldier who'd just rescued her. When she was put down, she dared to open her eyes, and as soon as she saw it was safe, she sprang to her feet with poise and grace that nobody possessing should be fearing this situation that much, and she backed herself against the wall furthest from the entrance before nodding. She was breathing heavily, but less in a 'physically exerted herself' way and more in a 'panic attack' way.

"I'm okay now. Just...that chaos and gunfire...I'm Dalry Soumers. Ex-UWLA. Corporal. I'm a First Contact survivor."

She didn't need to elaborate what she'd had first contact with, or why that explained how she behaved the way she did. Any soldier who knew about the Nomad would understand.

[Assistant]
"Sir! You need to calm down! Firing on the crowds will do us more harm than goods!"

Said the weapon officer on board the bridge of the Scythian, to the rash Nelson, who, still in his enraged fury, just ordered the crews to open fire.

"I don't need to know that! They aren't civilians! They are our enemies! They killed our men!" Nelson shouted back to him, but was suddenly grabbed in the shoulder by him himself.

"Sir! If you fire on the crowd you risk losing your entire career right here, right now! And your killer will still be there, sitting with his ass above his crossed feet peacefully! You will not get yourself a revenge like this! Wake up!"

Despite how fiercely Nelson protested, the man kept holding on to him, gripping his shoulders tightly, until the Lieutenant calm down. The officer was being unusually calm and patient, as opposed to his impulsive superior. The reason was simple: he was a former subordinate of Nelson. He knew Nelson's rashness, his rage. Although not thorough, but still, he knew it. He saw his eyes. And then he knew that he couldn't afford to be impatient like him. He couldn't waste his entire career, his life to some rash and illogical decisions, nor he could afford to lose the Lieutenant as his superior. The universe would lose a Nelson.

It took around a minute to calm the man down, as his shoulders began to loosen itself. The anger still lingered somewhere within him, but at the least, the man could gave a sigh of temporary relief, as he knew that he had led way for his real self to come out. His genius self.

Nelson sighed as he clinched his forehead, releasing all his anger, trying to vaporize it into thin air, as he said.

"Tell me officer. What are we provided with?"

There it is.

"Not much I'm afraid. We have three CIWS machine guns, and a bundle of navy personals, but almost half are recruits and do not have much experience."

"That's already enough." Nelson turned to address the entire room. "All hands, man your stations. I want all well-trained personals to handle the guns. Watchers and navigators, keep a close eye on the surrounding buildings."

"What are you trying to do sir?" Another officer asked, a middle-aged man.

"I was targetted by a sniper. And as far as I know, there is one lurking out there, trying to fling shots on our butts the moment we stick it out of the ship. And we will not let him accomplish that goal"

Nelson then walked to the observation area, where the situation was slowly unraveling in front of his eyes. He could see several shots coming from two large building not far from there. That was where those snipers were stationed in. Fools. They think that by staying there they will be totally safe? Such arrogance will be their grave mistake.

"There" He pointed at the two buildings. "That abandoned building. In the crack of the chaos, we'll go straight for it."
The line was directed at his officers, who looked at each other.

"You mean taking off?"

"They have given themselves to us already." Nelson said. "By appearing that we are retreating from the area, we can close in on them without them making a single move to counteract them."

He then turned to voice himself into the radio, in a manner different from his original.

"Attention all personals. Return to your station immediately. The ship will be taking off in 10 minutes."


[System]
Height: 6'4"

Weight: 211lbs

Hair Color: Dull Brown

Eye Color:
Left Eye: Green
Right Eye: Hidden beneath Eyepatch, assumed missing
Age: 37

Personality: Taskmage Atreides might be described as sarcastic, disrespectful to anyone who attempts to assert superiority over him, bitter and jaded to the world as a whole. They would not be wrong, but they would not know the whole picture of the Taskmage either. Wandering the lands of the Imperium, doing work for whomever needed his services hardens a man to the suffering and pain the world has. The first to reply to an insult or taunt with a sardonic and often times venomous reply, one would be surprised to note that when the Taskmage takes someone under his protection and tutelage, nothing short of complete obliteration stays his hand when it comes to bettering said person. Such unshakeable loyalty made him a popular hired hand, since once he took the money, he didn't betray his employer until the job, as listed per contract, was complete and someone paid him more to form a new contract. So despite his sardonic comments, his often times unlikeable statements and displeasing aura he seems to have, Atreides is not one to abandon the few that earn his loyalty rather then buy it, regardless the cost to himself.

Weapons:
+Luna (Detailed in main image): A blade forged with equal parts magic and forge work, this weapon is his primary means of fighting in hand to hand, and his only means of armed combat outside his magic. Due to its unique forging process, it acts as a natural focus and can channel both his ritual magics and actual combat spells when in a bind.

+Khopesh Blade: An enigma of a weapon, Atreides refuses to explain the weapon or why he carries it when it serves no purpose that Luna, his main sword, could not possibly do better. It is completely immune to any spells he has ever attempted to cast on it, some far more powerful effect deflecting any overriding enchantments from his rituals, but it never seems to leave his person. Even when lost, its back in his pack within a few hours when no one is looking.

Abilities (Magic):
Taskmage: Rather then specialize in any one specific arcane art, Taskmages are expected to be able to act as the jack of all trades, when referenced against the arcane practitioners of the realm. This comes as a twin edged blade, some seeing an advantage, others, a grave disadvantage. Taskmages will rarely best enemy wizards in the field the hostile mage has dedicated him or herself to, however, Taskmages can command a far greater, and wider, variety of spells without any more training than most normal mages, and generally have a knack for quickly copying spells for their own use, albeit taking time to bring them up to a well trained enough level to be dangerous. Generally, only one to three spells from any one school of magic might be known at any one time, although legends of the predecessors to modern Taskmages make stories of men and women capable of utilizing advanced magic from many different schools, after many years of application and training.

Current Schools Utilized: Electromancy, Geomancy, Pyromancy

Ritualistic Magic: As many times as a Taskmage might be hired to join a Mercenary band to provide a versatile hidden weapon, they are as often hired to prepare and enact various rituals that more dedicated archmages are too busy, or ask too high a price, to do. Protective wards, weapon enchanting, tracking spells, Ritual Magic is generally not seen as a in combat viability for the most part, instead used to prepare for combat before hand, runes and phrases prepared to trigger the effects stored by the rituals. Usually, even with prior preparation, a lengthy phrase must be recited to trigger a rituals effect.

Current Known Rituals:
Weapon Empowerment: (Atreides can currently only activate these on his own specially prepared blade)
+Ignis (Engulfs the Weapon in flames, Atreides most preferred and his go to enchantment)
+Umbra (Cloaks the weapon in shadow, creating an afterimage which reduces enemies ability to defend against following attacks)
+Sol (Encases the weapon in holy Light, highly effective against unholy and daemonic beings. Can also act as an impromptu torch)

Raise Barrier: Arcane (Made of pure energy, vice terraforming or utilizing surrounding natural elements)

Track Object: Living (Supplied with a piece of the target's body, such as hair or fingers, he can glean a general direction in which the target fled. The fresher the sample, the more effective and accurate the tracking is. Only works on targets alive at the time of casting.)

Other: Taskmage Atreides appears to be blind in his right eye, even without the eyepatch covering it, and refuses to discuss the circumstances leading to this happening to anyone besides one specific person.

[User]
Ugnis was surprised when he heard the distinct sound of a blade on the relic, but was more surprised as to why not one of the other mercenaries came after him when he caught it. "Weren't they after this?" he asked himself quietly as he took in the sounds of their breathing, the boy's notably more labored than Sable's. Ugnis understood that exhaustion would have prevented either of them from pursuing the relic, but why had the seemingly normal Crimson Streak suddenly stop and lose interest? "I suppose I shouldn't worry about it," He thought to himself, perfectly fine with not having to fend them off.

After a silent moment among all of them, he heard a shout come from the boy, posing an important question: what would he do with the relic? Noticing the breathing sleepily slow, Ugnis raised his voice. "Kid, the town's right next to you. At least try to get there before you crash for the night." He walked towards where the boy was to lend a hand, gathering the possible solutions for the question asked of him. "I don't need money, but I don't really want to keep this thing around," Ugnis thought, as he rolled the artifact in his hand, feeling the wild energy it seemed to be emitting. "I can't give it to the other mercs because they'll probably just sell it, and the boy doesn't want that to happen for some reason."

Ugnis sighed at the answer he came to. "I suppose I'll be keeping this for now." he announced, not really wanting the burden to fall on himself. Nonetheless, it felt fulfilling to have it for some reason. He'd just have to work a bit harder to stay calm. Suddenly, Ugnis remembered to do something else. "Say, what's your name anyways, kid?" He could never tell who someone was unless their name was mentioned. Thus, it became a personal duty for Ugnis to learn every person's name that he came across, especially if they were a fellow mercenary that wasn't out for his blood.

[Assistant]
Atreides caught the tail end of the squabble and action going on between the various people. Sable seemed to be doing rather well by herself so far, then something happened. Something distracted her, he knew Meat well enough to know when that happened, and her next throw sent the relic hurtling off towards a blind man. Great, unknowns, of everyone here, he knew that blind was NOT defenseless. The man declaring it would be his and his alone didn't help, and his comment was not nearly as pleasant as everyone else so far, speaking from experience.

"Or we take a relic of mysterious capacities, considering what it damn well did to that bastard of a bear, and get rid of it before it starts causing problems here? Turn a profit along the way as well, split it since you have custody. Everyone of us gets a cut and walks away a bit richer."

Atreides glanced at Sable briefly, she knew the expression on his face. It was one of that they would talk over what happened. Later. But for now he returned his focus onto the kid and blind man, arms crossed like he was not going to be of any threat what so ever. His motions coming out here were precise and controlled, seeming to have moved in a small circle for no apparent reason, for those who were paying attention. Most probably missed his small oddity in his motions coming out to speak to the two younger folks. He didn't relish the thought of splitting the pay, but some money was better than none, so he awaited their responses, and keeping the corner of his vision on Sable just in case. He did make one last question, making sure they knew he expected an answer.

"How about it kids? Relics tend to contaminate their surroundings or bearers when improperly built, and looking at the bear's remains, that damn thing leaks magic everywhere."

[User]
Mal's smile was softer than normal as he took the hand of the blindfolded man and hauled himself up to his feet. He barely managed to keep from stumbling into the man as exhaustion tried to weigh him down. Even at this distance he could feel the magic energy buzzing off his skin. He could feel the spirit inside him strain against his skin as if prepared to lash out at the object.

"Thanks..." He chuckled, "and the name's Mal Tersva. Pleasure..."

 He struggled to keep his balance. The chains went from something bearable to the weight of the world as his legs shook. He was a legitimate glass cannon - he knew that. And the spirit sapped a lot from him too. His eyelids felt like falling down on him, which he really wish they didn't -

 Because with Eye-patch's last comment, Mal desperately wanted to drive one of his snakes through the man's throat.
 Still using Blindfold as support, he stepped towards the eye-patch guy,

"Oh, because the people you're selling it to will just lock it away, right? Or are you apathetic to the rest of the world's plight? The 13 might've stopped the Shattering but this world is still in shambles, and I doubt some selfish ruler is gonna make it better..."

 And with his monologue, Mal fell to his knees, his breathing heavy as dark spots gathered at the edges of his vision.

Damn it... don't pass out now! he thought as he held onto consciousness with heavy breathing.

[Assistant]
Sable blinked at the sound of her partner's voice, looking up in time to catch his knowing glance. To that, she simply nodded, listening in silence between the three men's conversation. Hearing the hooded boy practically threaten Atreides, she moved to grab the eye-patched man's arm softly, stopping him before he did something stupid.

"Apologies," she said in monotone to the hooded boy. "Consider the Relic yours to do with for now. There are others to search for. Enjoy your day."

With that said, she turned in the other direction and walked away, expecting Atreides to follow her. It was best not to create an enemy they knew nothing about, especially one with dark powers like that. She could sense the negativity in that boy, almost like the…

"I heard a voice," she said aloud, hopefully to Atreides if he actually bothered to follow. If not, she didn't mind talking her thoughts out to herself.

Something was…wrong here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Get the fuck back here!"

A crackle of purple colored electricity exploded through the small cavern. Although the Relic had not moved physically, an overbearing presence began to fill the area around it, almost like a mist of negativity.

"Bring me the bitch you worthless piece of shit! Bring me to her!"

The Relic continued to scream out curses and threats to the fading form of Yem before slowly decreasing in volume. The electricity seemed to recline back into the Relic, as if satisfied by something. It would wait then. Wait until its bringer would return.