[System]
Gender: M

Age: 35

Place of Birth: Seattle, WA

Sexuality: Hetero

Relationship Status: Vin was engaged to a girl he'd been together with since his late teens, and through unforeseen circumstances, the relationship ended.

Occupation: Co-partner of several tattoo shops along the East Coast of the United States, mostly located in upscale areas, Buckhead being one of them.

Skills: A vast background in traditional art, with a focus on tattooing and the use of various inks and their properties.

Power: Tattoo & Body Art Manipulation

Essentially, a telepathic ability that allows him a certain degree of control over the ink used for the tattoos, thereby giving "life" to an otherwise static image on his (or a chosen target's) skin. His ability is most potent when used on his own tattoos, allowing him to lift the imagery from the skin, solidifying it, and giving it a brief independance from the host body. (i.e. A crow tattoo on his chest can "peel" away, transform into solid mass, and fly around).

Natural tattooing inks created by plant dyes, animal minerals, salts and various other natural sources, etc work the best. Synthetic inks are generally weaker.

As a defensive mechanism, if threatened, the tattoo ink will protect itself (and the host), adapting and shielding Vin from physical attacks for a limited amount of time.

Areas that are covered in tattoos also have the potential to heal much quicker, as the artwork essentially "repairs" the affected area. The more severe the wound, the longer time it takes to completely heal and the more mental exhaustion is incurred.

Cost of Power Use: Causes varying degrees of mental fatigue & migraines, and the longer it is sustained, the more lethargic he can become, to the point of unconsciousness if not careful. There are instances where the power, if not kept in check, could lash out violently toward others or the host himself as it begins to take on a life of it's own...
Appearance: Vin stands about 6'1, tall and lean. He generally keeps a closely trimmed beard or clean shaven face, and a neatly comb head of thick dark auburn hair. His wardrobe tends to lean toward a "chic rocker" fashion in blacks & grays, more so to impress the higher-end clientele. His arms, chest and back are covered in various tattoos of fantastical venomous creatures, tribal & gothic patterns, life, death, and various symbols that only he may know anything about.

Personality: Vin comes off as relatively light-hearted and easygoing, and yet can easily be identified as borderline narcissistic due to the fact that he seems to "know everything about everything" and holds nobody else but himself in high regard, which can reflect in his close professional and personal relationships. He is inherently stubborn and critical about a great many things, especially related to artwork, and his intense focus can be misinterpreted as being "socially disconnected" when in the middle of a project as he doesn't tolerate distractions very well.

Generally, however, he's a guy that goes along to get along, and enjoys to socialize in circles where there may be an opportunity for gain or pleasure. As an artist himself, he loves art, especially body art, which he'll gladly discuss with anyone who will listen to his incessant ramblings which inevitably circle around to him talking about himself.

History: As "deceptive appearances" go, Vin had always managed to keep his life running against the grain as much as possible, turning his nose to rules and regulations that seemed to only work for everyone else but him. Although he'd never let on that he had an ounce of the proverbial anarchist in him. Growing up in Seattle during the late eighties, early nineties, he found himself in the midst of the grunge scene, which influenced not only his outlook on life and society, but his love for various rock music and art. His family life was rather eventless (some would even say "normal"); both parents got along, worked hard at their respective blue-collar jobs, and generally made a bearable life in the Lower Queen Anne area of the city. As most good parents did, they both encouraged their son to do something meaningful with his life...

Of course, "meaningful", was a matter of interpretation.

Vin loved the city, especially the underground scenes, and most of his time was spent running with his wayward friends, getting into the seediest dumps to see their favorite bands play or hanging with the best local street artists, painters, and tattoo kings that Seattle had to offer. As his artistic talents flourished, he also reaped the rewards of diligence and hard work. He eventually turned his focus on tattooing, which it seemed everyone was willing to pay good money for, no matter their social status. At seventeen, he'd saved enough from various art jobs to share rent on an apartment in the downtown area, closer to where the action and the money was. Vin was a dreamer, and he wanted to keep the film rolling as long as possible. He'd met, for the first time, a girl he could really see sharing his already chaotic life. A girl who shared many of his own passions and aspirations, which gave Vin the feeling that he could really control the relationship and all its variables.

Funny thing how our own interpretations sharply contrast the harsh reality of things...

Years passed quickly as they would for those living a life that seemed to be an endless party. But for Vin, the fun hit rock bottom when his soon-to-be wife had decided to lavish herself in the lifestyle of another man. A man who seemingly had his shit together and gave her the world. The blowback became a stain that stuck in the forefront of Vin's mind, degrading his outlook of a future he hoped would have been shaped by his own hands. The solid relationship he once had with his parents began to suffer as he spiraled downward and pushed away a lot of people in the process. He eventually made it to a point where was ready to move on, to leave his old life and hopefully never return until he felt ready to return.

And he'd found the perfect way out...

Vincent reached out to James, an old friend who'd moved to the east coast to start up a chain of tattoo and body art shops mainly located in upscale areas. James knew the business, and even the rich enjoyed the opportunity to leave a lasting mark, whether it was social prestige or simply ink on their body, he'd gladly offer it all. Vin, confident in knowing that his artwork would be a great addition to his friend's business, didn't hesitate to take advantage of becoming a co-partner, quickly moving from his hometown of Seattle to a hi-rise apartment in the heart of Atlanta, Georgia.

[User]
Vincent snickered at Nate's direct response toward Jennifer, but after catching her sour expression, wished he hadn't, even moreso after she pulled away from him yet again. He couldn't figure this chick out, but assumed it had something to do with the side effects and brutal damage that her healing had caused on her body and mind. It's not as though he didn't know what it was like to be in pain. He watched Jennifer struggle a bit to climb back into the car, and even when Vin attempted to help her, she pushed his hand away in protest and mumbling something incoherent under her breath.

"Really?..." Vincent huffed, leaning against the outside of the car crossing his arms and staring blankly into the wooded abyss ahead of him. He knew he'd been a bit rough around the edges lately, but he also knew he tried to be there for Jennifer. He wanted to be there for her, and yet he felt like she was hard-pressed to kill herself like no one else cared.

"I care...probably more than I should." He said out loud to no one in particular.

He peered over at the pickup truck as well as the other truck that showed up shortly after. From his perspective, it looked as though the group was getting ready for a zombie apocalypse or a night out at a Rage Against the Machine concert. Of course, one was more plausible than the other, considering that band hadn't been together in years. Regardless, Vincent hoped that this dude "Eli" would come through for everyone, because no one needed more problems. He looked over into the passenger's side seat at Jackson, who appeared to be unphased by the recent occurrences, and noticed he was half-asleep leaning against his propped up arm.

"Man, I wish I had that guy's calm disposition."

[Assistant]
Nate was surprised when Eli extended the shotgun towards him and he hesitantly took it from him from him, looking it over. Shotguns were a little too clumsy for his taste. Too messy. He would much rather have something more precise but he would take what he could get. He was relieved that Eli was relaxed enough to give him a weapon but wondered why he thought he would need it. He had hoped there would be less need for weapons this far out from civilization but apparently Eli thought different. And that concerned Nate. Immensely.

When JJ stormed off, quickly followed by her loyal puppy, Nate blew a kiss at the back of her head in an entirely sarcastic manner. He knew it was probably only a matter of time before Jennifer probably snapped. She had been through so much in such a short time and he felt a little bad for her...A little. But he would have felt a lot worse for her if most of that stuff hadn't been her own fault.

After the others were back in the car, Nate checked the shotgun he now held to make sure that it was fully loaded. It wasn't that he didn't trust Eli...Well, no, it was exactly that. "So what's the plan her, Opie?" he asked. "I imagine if you were taking me into the woods to kill me, you wouldn't have given me a weapon."

[User]
"I told you, if I was gonna kill you. You wouldn't see it coming. Right now get your three amgios in the truck. Eric will take them somewhere safe where they can rest and eat. Me and you are gonna torch your car and meet up with them." Eli took his last drag put it in a small cylinder from his pocket. He didn't want to take a chance someone was gonna try to be smart enough to link it to him. This was paranoid even for him but he he had good reason to be paranoid.

"I got a phone call telling you were coming. Two actually. How did they contact you?" Eli asked as he walked around the driver side it Nates car. Eli stopped for a second, shake the feeling that something was out there watching.

It couldn't have been law enforcement, they were too clumsy in the brush. Guiderone's men might be that good but the fact they haven't started shooting yet gave him pause. There was little point in putting people out here just to watch and gather intell at this point.

As looked off into the trees he couldn't help but wonder if he was just being paranoid, he trusted his gut and it was normally right but something really bothered Eli right now.

[Assistant]
Eric was in a mess of situations right now. "Let... let me get this right... Take them to a theoretical safe house, in my two door truck with two seats, and a pretty decent collection of guns. Like... Really decent. Like if they get their hands on them I will be royally fucked. Then you want me to baby sit everyone? But don't babysit them? Like... I'd be a look out dog? I mean everyone could sit in the bed in the back, I could drive slow and that would work I guess." He looked at his own truck, it was in need of work, it broke down every other week, normally it was an easy fix but still. Eric wasn't too pleased about it. "I'll see what I can do, just hurry up and catch up. I don't want to be found in an episode of Law and Order."

Eric went over to the car full of his new Friends, his shotgun slung over his back. "So hello people, I am Eric, I am your new baby sitter, and I want you to know that due to some cargo that I am borrowing, you all will have to sit in the back of my truck there. I didn't know that was going to be the case or I would have brought a pillow or something." He looked back at Eli, who was giving a shotgun to his new friend. Who when Eric tried to listen in was only getting headaches. It was like there was a whole group of people trying to interact at once.

On his way over to the truck Eric stopped by Eli and his new friend. "I don't know what's going through your head, or what medication you might be on, but listen to some music. Preferably lyric-less music. It will make it easier for you to focus. And help my life by a lot. 'Kay, thanks... Bye now!" Eric strolled his way to his truck, throwing the bag of guns and ammo into the passenger seat.

Getting into the driver seat, he waited for everyone before he decided to drive off. "Al aboard, because shit is going to get real... and chances are we are all going to die." Eric starting up his truck, then driving to the cabin.

[User]
Great...

"Yeah, nothing like riding in the bed of a truck somewhere in the boonies well past midnight. Brilliant idea." Jennifer turned to look at Vin, her attitude not any better. As soon as she stared at him though, she couldn't help but feel somewhat guilty for giving him the cold shoulder a minute ago. She sighed in defeat, secretly cursing herself for getting involved with someone she'd known for less than a day.

"Can you help me get in the back of that truck, please? I know I haven't exactly been the ray of sunshine you were hoping for, but it's been a damn long day...for all of us."

She awaited his response, wondering whether she'd already burn that bridge. With someone like Vin, she couldn't really tell.

[Assistant]
Vin wasn't the least bit enthusiastic about climbing into the back of a truck that looked like it came from Fred Sanford himself, especially being driven by a kid who felt it necessary to pack enough heat for an army. However, these were, in fact unusual times for everyone, and desperation had a way of slipping into every situation, no matter how skewed it might be.

He turned to Jennifer as she apologized in her own way, and reached for her extended hand without hesitation, helping her out of the back seat of the car that the group would probably never see again. A few minutes prior, in bouts of pridefulness, anger, and despair, part of him really wanted to blurt out accusations that essentially said to her, Yep, it is you, not me., but those thoughts vanished when he met Jennifer's glistening eyes again for the first time since they were back in Atlanta. Her expression was quite sullen and exhausted, and the mascara left small streaks of black running down her cheeks that Vincent wiped away with the sleeve of his shirt.

"You're a mess..." He said with a wink and a smile, cupping Jennifer's chin in his hand. "But aren't we all?"

Vincent bent down, wrapped an arm under her legs and the other behind her back and lifted her up. Jennifer's face appeared a though she were about to protest, but Vin cut her off at the pass. "And no, you're not too heavy for me, and shut it...because I'm carrying you whether you want it or not." He said again, his previous morose attitude replaced by positivity and a grin that didn't seem to want to go away, as he walked over to the back of the truck, and placed her onto the lowered tailgate. Vin ran his fingers through her disheveled hair, pushing the tiny locks and strands out of her face, curling them gently behind her ears.

"And if our lives are going to be a fucked up tornado of chaos for awhile, let's you and I be broken together from here on."


[System]
Age: 48

Race: Human

Appearance:

Personality: Allanon is a pensive man having lived a life seeing the darker side of humanity he carries many of his decisions with a lot of weight. He is decisive and discerning. He appreciates the small joys in life whenever he can afford to. He very much likes to reminisce over his childhood as it was a simple time where his decisions had little impact over others lives. His word means everything to him.

Allanon grew up as a member of the wealthy Valentis family. He was the fourth son and grew up with less responsibility than his older brothers as they were the ones to take over the administrative work of their company. Early on he took a deep interest in swordsmanship and learned as much as he could from various tutors and mercenaries.

The day Allanon became an adult was supposed to be a celebrated day, however, his father and oldest brother had entirely unexpected plans. Debts were being called by the Calabris family, and instead of money they wanted Allanon. Apparently, his martial skills had caught the attention of their family head: Varic Calabris. If the Calabris family desired, the Valentis family could be completely wiped out by them, and Allanon knew this. This was the first time that he felt the burden of responsibility, although at the time he only felt trapped and betrayed.

Taken away from his life of freedom, he was brought to the household of the Calabris family and presented to Varic himself. Varic explained how he was seeking talented individuals to make an elite team to work exclusively for his family. Allanon would be one of seven, but first a six month intensive training session was required of all of them to test their potential. Allanon reluctantly agreed as he knew he had no real choice, and before long he had to forget his reluctance to survive the training.

He built a good relationship with each member of the team as they were sent on black ops missions for the Calabris family. Some were stealth retrieval while others were bloody executions. Each of them knew the price of failure. One member of the team: Marissa Faye was the beacon of light in their team. In spite of the often awful tasks they were sent to do, she kept their morale up. Allanon admired her for her attitude and as time passed they fell in love and eventually married. Instead of rings they had a matching pair of longswords made as a symbol of how they met.

At 40 came the worst betrayal. Considering them too old to be effective, Allanon's team was executed by the Calabris family. At least they attempted to. A full platoon of mercenaries was hired to eliminate what had come to be known as the Ironblades. All government officials had been paid off to view them as criminals, and bounties were placed on each of their heads. The initial assault was defeated, but at the cost of two members of the Ironblades including Marissa. Her dying wish was for Allanon to do his best to create as much light as he could in this world, and he promised he would.

The Ironblades agreed to split up and go into hiding while making contact once a year to keep tabs. Over the next eight years two of the five remaining Ironblades were caught and slain. Allanon was the only one to remain in Portea the whole time. He started working as a vigilante and consultant for those in need in exchange for nothing.

Equipment:
Matched Longswords: While his sword style is a single sword style he has kept Marissa's golden blade with him as a reminder of his promise to her. They are enchanted so that so long as they are in close proximity to each other they will maintain and repair themselves.

Throwing Daggers: He has ten of these on a bandolier ready to throw as needed.

Abilities:
Valentis Sword Style: A balanced single-sword style created by Allanon over his lifetime. It is renowned as one of the best sword styles in the world for many-on-one combat.

Stealth and Disguise: Many of Allanon's operations required the use of stealth and disguise, and while it was not his primary role he learned many things from the now deceased Ironblade that was responsible for disguise.

Extra notes:

[User]
On his way out the door she would reply, "Hey my lucky charm Sahale! Long time but it seems like you always find my ass, I will look into it may or may not do it though see ya next time honey" She smirked slyly at him as she leaned on her desk bending at the hip and folding her arms, she wondered where he was off to as Ren eyed him out the window now walking towards the market area. "That damn guy always a laugh" she silently chuckled to herself moving her fist up to her face covering her laugh.

Ren thought of this target, seemed like an interesting person considering she herself was born and raised like a Sylve and she loved the culture behind dancing. Killing the target seemed a bit sour but she decided to gather some intel on this woman at least. Wondering to herself as she looked out the window, "Will I ever find anything of my Gruskan heritage this way" Shaking her head while scratching the nape of her neck she needed an information broker, "Maybe that flirt Sahale could help out." She whispered to herself.

Going back to the register now, Ren called some of her little birds over asking them if they knew anything about the dance teacher down the street. With some replies of "She is pretty" She got nothing but asked them again. "Can you guys find out anything more about her and let me know?" A couple of them nodding and running off, others stayed behind for some candies at the front register and looked at gadgets and items she had. Seemed like business wasn't doing so bad but she could use some coin, she would need it in the future.

Sitting at the register she would make exchanges here and there with various customers all the while reading her tomes, but then one of the children came running into the store gasping while talking "the store *gasp* is in ruin and *gasp* madame is hurt." The sound of the child's gasping was soon overrun with the murmurs of the crowd outside. Looking out the window she saw a man carrying her target into the temple right next to her shop. Her jaw dropped a little in astonishment of the coincidence of it all. They seemed rushed and really hurt, not wanting to draw the attention they did. It seemed like a mystery and Ren was hooked she just had to find out what was going on and how they were all linked together, Sahale, the Calibris family, herself, and this pretty dancer from kalla. Ren walked to the window and asked the child, "What did you see at the store? What happened here?" As she silently waited for the non existent answer, because the child could not answer. Staring at the massive crowd gathered right outside she smirked, an interesting adventure seemed to be stirring.

[Assistant]
Allanon remained silent as people questioned him about what happened. He could already see the suspicion forming in their eyes. These people were not combatants, but they could cause trouble if the opportunity arose. He could not trust any of them anyways. What if they were spies for the Calabris family trying to get more information out of him? The less they knew the better regardless.

If he could keep some people untainted by the Calabris family he would.

Red Saints. This caused Allanon some relief. Of all the families that were in charge of Portea they were the ones he trusted the most. Two beastmen. Unusual sights in Portea, but since he had arrived in Kalla he had seen more of them. One of them seemed to recognize him and commented on his appearance.

The bounty on his head listed all the crimes he had committed while under the "employment" of the Calabris family. The truth was his infamy was well-earned. The only thing was it was a secret until the Calabris family decided to "retire" the Ironblades. Again, he decided to remain silent. They could come to their own truth. He had no illusions about his past. He was responsible for the crimes he committed back then, but he also had a promise to keep.

The first step of Allanon's plan was already at work. The news spread by all of those that witnessed him carrying her from her school to the temple would be more than enough to catch the attention of the Calabris family operation. Madame Valia was already bait, but it made him feel better that she was willing to help. She was right that it would be better if she could walk.

He resisted slightly as he was ushered out of the room he had brought Valia to. He wanted to be in the best position to protect her should an assassin arrive. After he did leave the room he stood by the door maintaining constant vigilance. It would be a matter of time before someone with the intent to kill arrived.

He placed his hand on his wife's sword and sighed. "I hope I'm doing right by you, honey. I hope that every day."

[User]
Ren

 While there was commotion outside from the people that gathered around the temple, there wasn't much information aside from what Ren had seen and heard already. Valia's school of dance seemed to be wrecked and she was quite injured when she had arrived to the temple. Listening to the crowd, she would learn that there were healers in the temple, and two volunteers from a group called the Red Saints inside as well, apparently here to help with injuries caused by repelling a small raid on the town a little over two weeks ago. Something about the man who carried Valia into the temple may seem vaguely familiar, perhaps a bounty that Sahale carried around with him, as he did carry a number of them. If they were too high, however, he usually didn't willingly give them to her. After all, a dead person can't complete commissions and Sahale hated seeing a pretty face go to waste, so there were some missions he would hold out on her, but he always described it as being in their mutual best interests. If Ren wanted to learn more about what was going on, she would either have to go inside herself, or wait for them to come out.

Kistal

 The in was simple, yet cozy. Rugged wooden tables and benches all worn smooth over years of frequent use. The smell of spices filled the room from the kitchen, curry by the smell of it. As it was the middle of the day, the fireplace off to the left wall of the inn was unlit. Against the back wall was the bar, four large long tables filed the room, and to the right was a staircase that led up to the rooms that the inn would rent out. There was a heavyset man tending to the bar, though it was easy to see that beneath his heavier weight lied a mountain of muscle. The bar around him was larger than most and seemed custom made to accommodate his giant-like physique. To anyone who was a regular here, he was known to be his own bouncer, and in a land of strong warriors, that was saying a lot. All that aside however the man seemed fairly jovial. He saw a Kistal walk into his bar and he couldn't hide the surprise on his face, though his ever present grin still seemed to be there.

 "Well, I'll be. Welcome ta Sworn Spirits lad. Me own inn and tavern. Can't say I'd ever seen a satyr in these parts, hope the heat don't get to ya too bad. Least the night will be a bit more comfy for ya. Trust me, gets colder than a witch's bosom at night it does!" He laughed heartily, "M'name's Allard, what'll ya be havin', friend?"

 After listening to Kistal's request, Allard scratched his beard in thought. "Hmmmm, well, lets see 'ere," he said as he took a peek into the kitchen. He came back out rubbing his hands together. "Seems like tha curry chicken will be ready 'ere in a sec. Meat's fallin off tha bone, it is. Should be great. And as fur drinks, well, not sure of the pairin' but other than the regular corn whiskey an ale, we do make a fine rum if I do say so m'self."

Allanon

 About an hour seemed to pass before Alanon heard from the room. The priest was called away to go deal with the crowd and assure them that Valia was fine, and to disperse. The healer came out of the room, looking quite tired as she stored a spellbook. a few of the vials on her belt were now empty as well. She looked to the others and gave a weak but reassuring smile. She turned to Allanon as he was the one who brought her in. "The damage was quite extensive. The people who did this seemed to be aimed at crippling her rather than killing her....at least... at first... I don't know what all she told you, but something wrong is definitely going on here. I'm Neev and the happy guy over there is Vog," she said gesturing toward the drake beastman, who one could swear was a few shades of red after watching the whole ordeal as he walked out with her. "If you need our help for anything else, please don't hesitate to ask. Madame Valia will be fine. She should be able to walk, but nothing too strenuous, alright? She still need to heal naturally. Now, she is getting dressed so just give er a moment. I'll be...taking a cat nap." Neev finally said as she walked to one of the free infirmary beds and curled up in it, Vog sitting in the chair beside her. He didn't trust Allanon. He didn't know how much of the stories were true, but he didn't have a reason to doubt them yet, and until then, he stayed on guard.

 A few moments later, Valia stepped out, adjusting the final bit of cloth as to tie it in a bow behind her to keep her skirt up. she looked to Allanon and gave a bow. "I must thank you for your help, apparently, much longer and the damage may have been irreparable. Now, I believe it is my turn to help you, correct? I will try to help as much as I am able."

[Assistant]
Allanon had plenty of time to consider a next course of action from here. After all these years of working in the shadows to avoid the direct attention of the Calabris family while fulfilling his wife's last wish Allanon had built his skills in subterfuge and intrigue to what would qualify as a skillful level. He had two options at this point: stay here and wait for the hit squad to come and finish their job, or take a serious risk and step into an unfamiliar city to act as a body guard. He was not at all interested in losing control over his environment if he could help it.

The healer stepped out after an hour and filled him in on the situation. The catwoman wrapped up her explanation with a rather ironic joke which caused Allanon to raise an eyebrow and then chuckle a little bit. "Well, thank you." The Saints he knew were a good humored people. He was glad that the pair here appeared much the same.

Once Valia stepped out from the infirmary and told him she was ready Allanon replied to give her a choice. "The Calabris family I know will not let you be until it becomes too expensive for them, their operation here is dead, or you are dealt with appropriately in their eyes. We have a couple choices here. We can wait here for them to show up, and if they are Calabris mercenaries and not some third party hire it's possible I can get a direct lead to their operation's base and shut it down. The second choice is more aggressive and risky. We can leave here and make our way to another location where we can control the flow of who's coming in and who's coming out. The risk comes with the getting there and if they have someone with better stealth skills than my senses can detect."

He paused to give her some time to consider before continuing. "I will let you know. I prefer the first choice, but this is your life, and I want you to choose in this instance. I will keep you protected either way. I can guarantee there are few that are my equal with swordsmanship and fewer that are above without the aid of magic."

Allanon probably had the fewest answers to magic, however it was so restrictive and rare that he also rarely had to deal with dangerous magic situations. Only an idiot or another magic-user would dare risk facing a prepared magic-user head on. Everyone knew that.


[System]
Race: Kistune
Gender: Female
Age: 28
Personality: Yomiko is a quiet, bookish sort. She has read many types of novels and loves acting them out, and sometimes she can even act them out for real if she needs to pretend to be someone stronger, more refine, or even just play dumb. However she's really rather shy and easy to push around since she doesn't want any trouble. But if someone is in danger or needs her help she'll do everything she can to help, even if she has to face down some scary things or do things she regrets. If Yomiko makes a promise, she does everything she can to keep it.

History: Yomiko came from a family of scribes. Each one has written and copied over a thousand books before they even become adults, and Yomiko was no different. However unlike most of her family who wanted to just be scholars, Yomiko wanted adventure. She read stories of heroic people going out and having these great journeys defeating an ultimate evil or saving the world. Even from humble beginnings or crazy origins, she wanted to be like that. So she started to learn how, reading books and manuals about how to fight, how to survive, and everything else her family had on hand.

When Yomiko became of age she chose to leave her family to go on her our journey, instead of becoming a scribe. It wasn't easy; she ran into many challenges that her books never prepared her for and the things she learned didn't always work when actually applied. But she took ever experience as a learning experience and slowly got better over the years. She helped a lot of people, but also did a lot of bad things. She always tries to make up for it but she still feels the guilt of some of the things she's done int he past, the people who died because of her. One day as she was coming back home just to check on her family, she learned that her mother and father had fallen ill. A powerful magical curse was eating away at this life force and knowledge. Something trying to steal powerful and ancient information only her parents knew. There was a cure, however it was experimental not to mention expensive. Even if her family sold their lands and all the books they had it wouldn't be enough for the operation.

But in Yomiko's books there was one place known for it's riches. It was all rumors and fables, but she was certain that those lands existed: The ancient ruins of Norn. Though she knew almost nothing about it's history, there has been many stories of people who went into the ruins and came back rich and powerful. So Yomiko traveled to these lands in hopes of gaining that fortune so she can save her parents, and potentially whatever placed the curse upon them.

Items:
Crimson Kimono - A traditional red dress Yomiko had a friend make for her. Stylish and durable for travel, but otherwise isn't very good as armor. Yomiko's fighting style involves cutting down her foes quickly and avoiding attacks, thus she needs to remain fairly light on her feet, but also means she can't take many hits.

Steel Katana - An eastern sword that Yomiko has been trained to use since she was a little girl. It's blade is sharp enough to cut through stone, but in the hands of a novice the sword will chip and break easily. Yomiko thus needs to use a few precise strikes to defeat her enemies instead of just flailing her sword around and trying to overwhelm her foe.

Paper Talisman - A box full of paper with a few containers of ink and a brush. Yomiko uses it for her magic but she can also use it to write letters and legal documents.

Abilities:
Swordmaster - Among the most valuable and important documents Yomiko's family kept is a series of ancient scrolls detailing sword techniques and fighting styles. Yomiko, thanks to being family, was allowed to read and learn from these scrolls. She spent nearly ten years since she was a little girl training, and once she became and adult she used her adventure and experience to hone her skills. She knows that she isn't nearly as good as the masters who wrote the scrolls, but thanks to her education she knows a few techniques unknown to most.

Her strongest technique is known as the Mirror Slice, where Yomiko slashes her blade in such a profound fashion that her sword creates another slash, mirroring her current slash, to slice into enemies who didn't expect two cuts from one swing. It's a powerful technique that requires Yomiko's focus and concentration, and often damages or even destroys most swords she uses it with. Thus she seldom uses it expect in the most dire of circumstances.

Onmyodo - A Magical system her family practices mostly to make their work easier, Yomiko is quite adapt at it too. She knows how to understand any language written down as long as she can copy the text onto paper. She can even learn about the magical properties of objects if she wraps the object in paper and uses a ritual to divine it's power.

[User]
When the chief charged Joseph went on the defensive. He could tell this man was unlike the others; they fell for simple feints and lacked a true warrior spirit. This one however... There was some bite to him. Joseph stayed on the defensive and hide behind his shield, even as the man tried to splash poison into his face. A few drops did manage to hang onto the gap of his visor but not hit Joseph himself: he remained steadfast and didn't waver nor flinch. It'd take more than dirty tricks like that to stop this holy knight. Still, Joseph knew that he couldn't remain on the defensive for long, and this chief was certainly faster than him. He could get three maybe for slashes in by the time Joseph got one, so he needed to make his next strike count. If it wasn't a deathblow, than it could spell doom for Joseph.

If there was one weakness about constantly being on the offensive, it was becoming predictable. The bandit chief was fast, yes, but soon he'd start to build a rhythm with his strikes. Even as he was looking for ways around Joseph's shield he only needed a second of carelessness to catch him off-guard. In a flash, Joseph parried one of the chief's attack, knocking his sword away in such a way that he could not instantly follow up with another strike. This gave Joseph all the time he needed the heft his zweihander from his shoulder, high into the air, and then down onto the back of the man's neck. Like a guillotine, Joseph's blow would be swift, heavy, and instantaneously lethal.

[Assistant]
By Murkul's shriveled black balls! The elven sorceress nearly spluttered, one eye blinking from having blood in it. She was splattered in blood again. This was why she hated violence and why she had others do it for her. Well, that and the resultant danger of being skewered while inflicting violence.

Then the hedge knight began speaking and making an offer. She had to admit, she completely had to reevaluate the man after he opened his mouth. He'd come to collect items from corpses? Honorable knights didn't speak thusly. No, they'd make up an excuse for looting the long dead inhabitants of their valuables, justifying their depredations on some fool quest or something else about the "greater good".

Finally, he threatened to give her over to the ogre sized goblin.

"I can do more than you could imagine," and began to rise, noting that the knight didn't bother offering her a hand up, "Now, look away from me and be ready to strike him down. You will know when."

While rising she had considered a few spells but simple was always best and weaker spells, given that magic was being leeched away somehow felt safer than attempting one of her more powerful spells. So, instead she began to dance. Her slender pale limbs began to catch at the air, spinning in gentle circles, moving to a song that she was humming softly. Her hips began to sway, twisting and writhing as a serpent's might and then, finally, her bare feet shifted back and forth on the roof of her vardo wagon. Her bracelets and anklets began to chime along to the rhythm, giving voice to the music she was so barely humming. She moved with the grace of a leaf caught in the wind and her golden hair caught the light of the moon struggling to reach through the trees and glistened. Beneath the stone goliath's severed hand, holding it's castle slaying sword she danced, moving like the shadow before a flickering flame.

That's when the magic began. It was a simple spell, channeled through her dance, one of blatant mesmerism. As the massive goblin stared at her, gaping in dumbfounded rapture, she continued to dance, captivating him completely.

[User]
Roy was desperate. The smell of blood would easily attract more monsters to deal with and Roy was in no shape to fight another beast. It seemed like he had wandered aimlessly for hours before he saw a stable not too far from his position. Normally, Roy would have outright refused to seek refuge in such a filthy and dilapidated building such as the stable; this the farthest thing from a normal occasion. The curse was taking a toll on his senses and would soon plague him with hallucinations. Roy then decided to make his way to the stable where, hopefully, he would be able to wait out the effects. He slowly trudges along the cold and lonely path to the stable before the hallucinations begin to stir. Before him stood the image of his mother and father. Looking at him with disappointment and regret.  "Roy, how could you have been so foolish? Did we not trained you to always be on your guard when you face your opponents? How could we have raised such a disappointment?" Roy winces and walks through the illusion, causing the images to dissipate into nothing. It was then he saw his wife's image, sad and lamenting. "Roy...how could you leave me?" the image gently places her hands upon her midriff.  "How could you leave us? Going after fanciful tales and rumors rather than spending your last days with us. Do you even care how we feel?" The statement causes Roy to clench his hands with an almost crushing amount of force as he forces himself to ignore the illusion. He loved his family dearly, but he loved his wife more than anything in his life. Hearing this, even from an illusion, causes Roy to question if he really would find a cure here in Norn and if it was worth leaving them behind. That moment of weakness summoned hundreds of illusions, fallen comrades pleaded to why they had to die, his parents and siblings expressed disdain on Roy, and his wife pleaded to him to return home to Briston so at the very least they could bury him with a proper funeral.

Roy willed on to the stable, reassuring himself that these were mere illusions and nothing more. He was less than a horse's length to the stable when the hundreds of voices suddenly stopped. Before the entrance of the stable stood another Roy. Though it's skin was a deathly pale, revealing the blackened veins. It's eyes were nothing but pure milk white spheres, his mouth forced into a rictus grin that revealed yellowed teeth. The grotesque version of Roy let out a low, unnatural, and almost demonic voice bellowed out of the thing that looked like him and echoed as if it had another accompanying voice. "You're going to die in here..." Before it mockingly laughs at him. Roy has had enough of these illusions. He charges at his alternate self with his rapier, but hits nothing but air and causes him to stumble into the stable. As he lies on a small pile of stale hay, the illusions return and surround him. His vision fades as he passes out in the old dilapidated stable.

[Assistant] "Tch!" Yomiko had hoped this thing would die quietly, but of course it had one more thing to do before it fell. Yomiko had a hard time pulling her katana out of the heartwood and dodging at the same time, so she just had to let go and do some evasive maneuvers. She ran up the treant's body towards the flames just above his hands, and before she'd let herself get hit by the oil fire, she launched her body down to yank her katana out, hit the ground, and roll out of the way before the treant landed on her. She put as much distance between herself and the treant as she could before she watched it fall. Once everything seemed calm she took a deep breath and picked up the satchel. She'll want to investigate it further once she was somewhere safer, perhaps when she makes camp for the night or something. Cleaning the blade with a sheet of paper Yomiko sheathed her katana and kept moving.


[System]
Student:
* Age: 16
* Gender: Female
* Appearance: Borrowing an appearance because wow it was hard to find something that worked. Obviously in more appropriate clothing(usually the school uniform). She's 5'1.
* Personality: Hiromi is haughty and arrogant, believing herself to be modern day nobility. She takes great pride in her appearance and wealth, and is rather vocal about these matters. To put it simply, she's almost the picture of the "haughty ojou-sama" type of person. She has a legion of maids who follow her orders, though one in particular accompanies her to school on account of being a student, as well as the one Hiromi personally hired herself. While the blonde-haired girl is haughty and arrogant, she is not heartless and she hired the girl for her sake rather then because she needed a maid. Hiromi enjoys celebration, especially when it is a celebration that allows her to flaunt her wealth... or her prowess as one who wields a Ritual Device. Her confidence in herself is unshakable, to the point where she proclaims herself the best of all Ritual Device users within the bounds of Otsuki.
* Skills: Hiromi is actually quite a proficient dancer. However, she mostly lacks in physical skills and relies on the abilities of her Ritual Device and Pact.
* Equipment: Ritual Device: A Pact with the God of Darkness, Wealth, and Fortune, Daikokuten. Daikokuten manifests in a female form when materializing for this pact(Daikokunyo), wearing a maid outfit to "fit in"(somewhat humorously to many of the maids). She is rather jovial and friendly, but something of a schemer due to the theft of fortune. The device itself includes a golden mallet, a symbol of Daikokuten/Daikokunyo.
* Abilities: As Hiromi's pact is with a household god who is strongly associated with the theft of fortune, this allows her to transfer and alter the outcome of events in a pattern consistent with "good" or "bad" luck. For example, attacks against her by an opponent are more likely to fail when she has transferred their "luck" away. Conversely, events will become more fortunate for her, such as excellent dodges. Skill can, however, counter this completely. She can, however, materialize this "luck" into barriers under the logic that "it would be lucky if there were something to defend me". Hiromi may also materialize wealth, as hundreds of yen coins, which can be used as a remarkably devastating rain of projectiles provided they are ultimately returned to Daikokuten. This means they must not be destroyed in any way, or Daikokuten will revoke Hiromi's privileges to use them as weaponry for a whole day.
* Brief Backstory: Hiromi is the child of the Ishimura family, part of a powerful business conglomerate that handles various military ritual technology production across the world. As such, she was raised a very very rich girl, to say the least. When it came time for her to be granted a piece of Ritual Technology, she selected a Ritual Device in order to gain the service of a god, which she believed she deserved. Daikokuten, upon materializing for the first time, noted that Hiromi was a rich girl with many maids and chose to take advantage of having a female form in order to "match". Later, she took pity on a lonely girl her age and offered her work as a maid. They have stuck together since then, including when they enrolled in Otsuki.

[User]
Jennifer White

Briefly, Jen had a chance to try to react to having a girl on her sword (hardly a comfortable place to stand with all the machinery on it) before some other force sent the blade careening into the ground, where it ground to a halt. The blonde was equally baffled by the sudden change in direction independent of being stood on until the watching boy apologised for his interference. The English girl was in no mood to actually prevent Ruriko from hitting him (once), given the danger if her blade had actually deflected off the floor and hit one of them purely by chance.

The training rooms were reinforced so that students could actually put their abilities to use without blowing holes in the walls; why hadn't it deflected?

It was when the teacher came in and broke the fight up that the now-standing Jen realised exactly why she hadn't removed her own ankles or something: her Gear's cutting reinforcement and the speed with which it had swung had actually created a deep gouge in the floor. Hopefully she didn't get made to pay for that or something...

Fortunately, the teacher that had shown up was one that had no reason to dislike the blonde: PE was the class she had the best attendance for and where she actually performed well. It meant that she actually had a good chance of Akira listening to her justification: "Ah... I came in to train and Yuriko started waving her sword around going on about a mock battle and I was worried she'd gone crazy. That guy accepted a duel before I could go find a teacher, though."

---

Tachibana Kaede

"I'm pretty good, but I wouldn't call myself one of the best. I guess I'll do better if I take it more seriously this time, since it's my last chance--it's really hard to get into a competitive mindset for a tournament revolving around doing your best to put someone in an inescapably fatal situation, don't you think?" the redhead ruminated, wishing that there'd be less direct combat with other people in the things. Maybe a few set up as exhibition matches, but some sort of simulated monster-hunting as the main attraction seemed more appealing and in the spirit of showing which school would be best in the event of an outbreak. It would be better than just introducing variable terrain, since you'd already removed the honourable duelling part.

She wished that people would stop being so obsessed with whether or not they could win. Of course they could win but it was an international tournament with a huge amount of competitors, doing well enough to get in the top ten was a pretty big achievement on its own. "Yeah, we can win. I think last years' winners' powerhouses graduated, so it should make for less stiff competition."

[Assistant]
Ushio nervously returned the smile Hiromi directed at her, and quickly returned to her usual 'stare at the ground' routine. Now that they were out of the class and away from prying eyes, Ushio's awkwardness didn't feel amplified to ludicrous levels. Now she just needed to get impossibly lucky and suffer no more teasing for the rest of the day.

"Why aren't you in uniform, Ushio-chan?"

Well, that lasted a solid three seconds.

Face exploding with colour once more, Ushio's eyes widened as she raised her head. Her bag containing the uniform hung from her shoulder, and she tried to squeak out an explanation, "I-I-I was tr-trying to ta-take my clothes off b-but then people c-could hear me! S-So I couldn't-"
Ushio clamped a hand over her mouth, heat radiating from the embarrassed maid as she realised what was said. Now would be an amazing time to hide behind Rumbling Earth Maestro, at least that completely mysterious and not-at-all-Ushio-like lady wouldn't dig a deep hole for herself...

[User]
Rundstrom Makoto

Makoto rubbed the back of his head. What she said is true. It is hard to get competitive when you're trying to put someone in a life and death situation. Their weapons are mighty dangerous and one wrong move and you can injure someone... or worse. There were accidents before. "Yeah, I just lose the hesitation when I'm pitted against someone who has every intention to defeat me." He admitted. There aren't many students who would hesitate to take the first shot unless provoked like him. A lot would just go all out with no hesitation at all. "I suppose maybe having another form of tournament would be better than this."

"That so? That's good. A lot of people are really hoping this year." The red haired male said. A lot of the people in this academy sure is hoping for this one. Maybe it's a lucky year. Maybe not. If anything, he just wanted to win so that he wouldn't have to sit through the next few months listening to his friends' on how they should've done better, that the other side cheated and things akin to that. Really, that's mostly his reasoning.

[Assistant]
ERI NAGASE

One foot in front of the other.

It's a good way to take life, you know. That it just so happened to be what I always tell myself when I get zoned in during a run's just icing on top of the cake. Track, it seems, is a good way to get life lessons on the cheap.

And unlike a friend of mine, whose family had raised him in the land of bankers and watches up until he was a high-schooler, while still being just about full-blooded Japanese, I might add, I don't handle money so regularly that I can zone out and miss a good deal when I see one.

I know what you're gonna say to me: "Hey, run that back for me again? What's with this convoluted backstory?"

To which I reply:

If you think that's wacky, you should see the guy's ahoge when he's flustered. I swear, it could have it's own circus act.

But enough about him. I can tell you about all that later. In the most selfish phrase I've ever honestly uttered—

Let's talk about me. Time to get the story rolling proper, as I'd meant to do before devolving into a tangent about some guy who occupies half of my text message notifications talking about random stuff.

It was a pretty... normal day to begin with, as far as days at this school went. I'd woken up, attended classes, had lunch in a cozy little nook I'd managed to sniff out, et cetera. Like I said earlier, I think I was just trying to take the day one step at a time, still trying to process what I'd gotten myself into.

And it was, much like the defeat of Nazi Germany, a two-front war I was fighting.

Front One.

Honesty time: I'm still very new to this whole thing. See, this Ritual Technology business isn't something I've been involved with for too terribly long. I've learned a few neat tricks with the abilities and Device given to me by my patron God, Kuraokami, yeah...

But I haven't settled into this school specifically designed for it in the slightest. Sure it's my first year attending and early on in said year, but that would suggest that the second front shouldn't be happening.

Front Two.

Apparently, someone high up in the food chain sensed some crazy talent or latent potential left to unlock in me, that I have no idea of. That's my only explanation for this one: I've been selected as a candidate to fight in the Annual Academy Tournament. These shindigs are Huge, with a capital H, to these schools. I can tell that as a relative newcomer to the system easily, so them picking a girl as green as I am even for consideration can mean, in my mind, just a couple of things:

One: They could have mistaken me for some hidden savant who just needs to go Gohan and "unlock their true potential" to suddenly become a monstrous fighter who could beat up peers well-established already—

or Two, which I'm really hoping it's not: This school has fallen from grace hard enough to just sort of stop caring about who it sends off to these things. I'm serious, please tell me it's the former! The latter's honestly kind of insulting!

In either case, though, there was only one logical answer to this: Train. Either I'm representing this school because I have great potential, or I need to stick it to anyone who thinks we, and by extension me, are write-offs.

Both versions would need me to get good at using this thing in combat. Learning how to not only adjust to this new world I live in, not only learn how to survive in it, but to thrive in it.

So that's how I got here, in a nutshell (kind of): Briskly jogging across campus and now, opening the doors with a wipe of the brow, into the battle simulation area.

Another Track life lesson: To get good at anything, you're gonna need to put in the work.

If I wanted to prove myself up for the challenge the faculty had set for me, I was gonna need to get a bunch of rounds in, not only to condition me, but to learn what I need to.

And if it's anything like Luke's little sister's told me, it's gonna take a whole lot of beating me up. And I'm ready for that.

What I'm not ready for, however, is looking in through the door to find a group of people already in the middle of using this unit. One who was a foreigner, probably hailing from America or Europe, cap affixed to her head. The second is a Japanese girl, shorter than me... with a cape. Huh. The third kid, to round everyone my age out, is a tall (taller than me) guy with a Katana, currently in the middle of bowing to the two.

Had he barged in like me? Was he thanking them for a good fight?

I couldn't know, but I wonder if it had something to do with the teacher here, looking like she had a lecture ready and waiting...

"Uh..."

My mouth automatically makes noise to express my confusion, and I really, really wish it hadn't. I could speak with more poise than this normally, I knew that. Maybe I'm just out of it today, but now I'm forced to follow it up with something.

I hope I get into the swing of things ASAP.

"Should I go look for another sim room?"

It'll have to work. For the record, I blame the strange atmosphere and situation for this.


[System]
Speaking my true name might melt your brain and the brain of anyone around, so I try to avoid it. Humans and supernaturals call me Parry.

Age
*SLAP* Rude! But I can say it's decidedly more than 6,000 years.

Gender
Oh, how cute! You think that's a thing! I guess you could call me a 'he' if it really bothers you that much.

Breed/Species/Type/Lineage
I abhor the term 'Angel.' It applies too many labels and carries too many connotations. We prefer to think of ourselves as Celestials. But then again, Angel does adequately describe my primary features- wings, fire sword, stunningly beautiful looks and tastes. As far as the other supernaturals go, I let them assume I'm a Magi of limited power and even less intelligence, or whatever they prefer to think. Coming right out and saying "I'm an Angel" tends to lead to uncomfortable questions like "Why did you let my brother die," and "Can God make a sandwich so big he couldn't eat it?" (The answers to those questions being, "It's complicated" and "Yes, and then they'd finish it, too!")

Plus Celestial blood tends to do crazy shit like make magi powers go nuclear or turn Vampires human, and I have no intention of being anything other than a voluntary donor of my own bodily fluids.

Talents
I'm going to be very, very honest for once- I kinda forgot a lot of what makes my kind tick. I misplaced a lot of my ability to warp reality and smite the wicked back in Babylon when I worked in a temple of Ishtar as a part-timer. Man, between smoking premium herb and all the sacred prostitution... it makes you wish for that old time religion. But I kept most of the important bits! Mainly, my ability to create Runic Wards that I can tie to physical structures and a few items. How do they work? See, this line in the dirt? And this can of mortal mace? Imagine you want to kill everyone across that line. Now cross it and spray yourself in the eyeballs. Here, I'll do it for you. See? Yes I'm going to use the whole can! You didn't step back across the line!

Other times I can use them to neutralize magic energy. It doesn't turn you human, just kind of turns the mojo down from an 11 to an 8. It's definitely useful for keeping the kids from nuking their neighbors.

I'm Solar-Powered, so I don't need to eat to keep going. Yay, waistline!

Finally, there's the Wings. They're ethereal for the most part- I had to clip them when I took my initial vacation. Had to navigate through the markets of Babylon without knocking over every stall. Can I call them up? Yeah. Can I use them to fly? Sure. Will I? I mean... they're kind of a dead giveaway as to what I am. So Hells no.

History:
So the official story that I tell everyone, human and otherwise, is that I came into town a few years ago and set up shop, moving away from sunny California. That's usually enough for both sides. Done and done.

Where I really come from? I guess you could say the upper Heavens. Paradise. Nirvana. The Clockmaker's Workshop. However you want to call it, the center of the Celestial Bureaucracy. It got tiring. I can't remember if I was filing reports or fighting demons, but I just knew I needed a break. I was talking to Murael while on assignment about how I needed some time off. Mur recommended I go take a hike through the Pyrenees or visit Babylon for a week or two. Live a little. See some of the things we were fighting for up close.

I took Mur up on it. I mean, Sargon was an interesting ruler and it was the region to be at the time, so I clipped my wings, stashed my sword, and down I went. But, you know, I get distracted by things. Namely, silk with pink and purple dye. It was my original weakness. I stayed in the markets, found work with Ishtar's temple as an acolyte, did some excellent smoking, became the number one temple prostitute of the cult, and a few years later I kind of decided I wanted to see the next city. And the next. And the next.

I got to New Camden a few years ago, set up shop like I usually do. Little Angels Day Care (real original, I know) on the city's north side. I got a permit for the building through de Lacy, then set up shop and did my thing. Diapers and playtime on weekdays, then a binge on new and interesting ways to enjoy drugs and sex on the weekends. Somewhere along the way, de Lacy caught wind of what I actually am and I started giving him a bit of blood every month as a tithe. He didn't share the source with anyone, but it gave the impression he either had a lot more power or a lot more money than he really did. I'm not too worried, though. He'll eventually burn out on the stuff. One day he's fine and dandy king of the court, the next there's a pants-wettingly huge crisis, he reaches for three bottles of liquid raw Celestial power, and it's "Look at me, ye poor mortals, and despair!" He'll cast a fireball, and he turn into a pillar of flame and ash. Along with half a city block. Then I'll pack up and head out.

I saw it before the last time I was in Chicago. I think that was... '71? '72? No, I mean 1871.

Anyway, I know my punch-card shows I'm seriously tardy with the crew upstairs but nobody has come to collect me yet, so I think I'll hit Chicago next. Or Detroit. Whichever one is safer. As a Celestial I know what happens after death, so that's no biggie. It's knowing I'll have to answer for that missed time on my punch card that scares the crap out of me. Do you know how long I'll have to work to get 4,000 years worth of Vacation days?

Psychological Profile:
My last girlfriend said I get distracted by material things too easily. Or maybe that was Charlie- he never complained about what I was buying, just that I was buying stuff. I can't help myself though! Upstairs, we got the flaming swords, white toga-things, and the occasional instrument. You mortals are so... creative! I just want to try everything out! I also have a soft spot for kids, especially supernatural ones. It sucks being told everything you have to do at every hour of the day, then add the fact that you may or may not be empowered by forces beyond your control? Yeah, you're in for a roller coaster ride, honey!

Possessions:
Gucci bag, Tom Ford suit, about a dozen different Hilfiger jeans, a Motorola Dynatac 800x Cell Phone- oh. Oh, you mean... I have the Flaming Sword stashed somewhere. It tends to slice various demons and chaos entities, and can start small forest fires if I leave it unsheathed at a camp site. What? Don't look at me like that! We didn't have a lighter, and it's hard to have a... ahem... friendly gathering in the woods with a few other friends when there's no warmth or light. I don't even use it that often! Like, ever. Mages get glittery eyed when they look at it and witches tend to get too friendly with me just to get a hand on the thing. Aside from that? I have a Gucci Diaper Bag of Holding! It opens to a storage unit in Wyoming where I keep most of the things I need for my day job.

Yes, and:
Rusty is a good guy! Totally fun, hooked me up with a weekend's worth of drugs to party through my yearly "What are the mortals snorting this decade" party. And he let me borrow his bike one day to pick up a baby Fae changeling that was stuck in a car wreck on the interstate outside town. Mom and Dad were alright but it was a dicey thing for a few days. Only took a bottle of Jack Daniels and one favor as yet to be collected to get the bike. But I'm a glorified baby sitter for supernaturals. I change diapers and let the grown ups make money to pay their tithes. Far as he knows, I'm just a useful Magi. What could a biker werewolf possibly want from me?

Besides, after I returned the bike- the look on his face when he revved the engine and the exhaust spat a glitter cloud? Totally. Worth. It.

Location of Note: Spring Eternal (Former Discotheque, now a... whatever-the-kids-listen to-club)
Notable Person: Louie "Lireth" Burgher
A fact everyone knows about this place: The place is a front for a Faerie court. It paid tribute to de Lacy like everyone else, but if you want anything from coke, to coke, to Pixie Dust, Louie can hook you up! I first tried Primo Bam Bam here and holy crap did I wreck that disco ball!

Location of Note: Little Angels Day Care
Notable Person: Yours truly, Parry Magnus!
A fact everyone knows about this place: I run the place on the cheap for the supernaturals less able to make money off their abilities. It helps having a safe, cheap location to drop your kids off while you make money stocking shelves because you weren't blessed with the power to turn dust into gold.

[User]
Peace and dancing would have to wait, it seemed. By the time Parry got back to the playroom and the dancing lights of the Disco ball, the knocks had stopped and the booming kicks of a biker werewolf who really, really wanted to talk began. Fine, he'd make time for the biker. Parry crossed beneath the Heart Crystal hanging in the hallway, expelled a small cloud of smoke, and looked at the guests in his living room- he wasn't sure if they were all real or imagined quite yet. By the time the buzz cleared his system, he'd have much clearer vision.

"Ladies and gentlemen, party's over. I have an urgent visitor. Please make your way out of my mind and into the kitchen."

Spinning on his heel, Parry met Rusty halfway through the hall and gave his best smile.

"Well hello, big bad wolf! I think I'm done huffing and puffing for the night, but I will be happy to buy from you later today. If you could give de Lacy a message for me on your way back, though- he asked for an amulet against undead. I neglected to let him know the one I gave him was for use against Peruvian mummies. I don't think it matters, but I figure the thing was for peace of mind. de Lacy is more paranoid than smart.

"But anyway, what can I do for you?"

[Assistant]
"Yeah, well it definitely doesn't work on whatever this guy is. Nemsemet just wiped out Caradoc de Lacy and most of his posse single-handed, along with some of the hanger-ons. I barely got my ass out of there intact. I -was- riding out of town, but something fucking stopped me in the middle of the road. I need a sorcerer to look at it and figure out just what the hell that is. Then I want to unwrap that fucking mummy! He killed some of my pack!"

Rusty, blowing town? It usually didn't work like that, Rusty was a lot of things, but he didn't generally run away from a fight. The man tended to go where he would and courted trouble.

"You got a phone?" He couldn't get out, but maybe he could bring the boys in. Some of the chapters were at Lake Talbot, in the Appalachians for the yearly club retreat. They sat around a lake, got high, fucked with bikes and sold drugs to hikers and college students. It wasn't as good as it was in the late 60's and early-to-mid 70's, but it was a club tradition. He only came down to New Camden because de Lacy called him in with a few guys, not wanting an entire club to come in and wreak havoc on his town. Rusty obliged, because he smelled a good deal and desperation.

Now he was the desperate one. Breathing heavily, holding himself in check, chest heaving.


[System]
Hero Archetype: Cannon
Alias: Kid Flash, The Fastest Kid Alive.

Age: 18

Team: YJ Academy

Powers: SPEED FORCE- The Speed Force's origins are currently unknown. Whoever has the ability to tap into the Speed Force has the ability to run faster than the speed of sound, as well as other abilities.

PHASING- Speedsters have the ability to move so fast, that they can vibrate their molecules and phase through walls. This can be used as a deadly force, by a speedster phasing their hand through someone's chest, stopping their heart and killing them.

VORTEX- Speedsters can run so fast in a circle, that they can cause a mini vortex. Lifting up a person or object, and possibly doing more damage like suck the air out of someone's lungs. Vortexes can also be made by moving his arms around creating a tornado type of wind attack or defense.

HEALING FACTOR- The Speed Force grants the Flashes accelerated healing, however more extreme injuries on more sensitive organs and tissues [eyes, heart, hands, and feet] tend to take a bit longer to heal properly.

Weaknesses: Speedsters have a healing factor but any broken bones, torn ligaments, or joints could heal wrong and cripple the runner. Wally is also defenseless against extreme cold, mental/telepathic attacks, and magic. Also, without being grounded and having a place to put his feet his super speed aside from other minor powers completely cut off.

Personality: Wally is an up-beat, fun guy. He likes to make jokes, and he's a funny person. But he can get serious when he needs too.

Appearance:

Brief Bio: Wally West was born in Blue Valley, Nebraska. As a kid, Wally was a fan of the Flash and dreamed about being the Flash often. He became the president of a fan club for the Flash however his parents didn't like it, and they thought he was setting himself up for disappointment. He was hurt because of this, since they had lack of faith in his childhood hero.

At age thirteen Wally went to Central City with his older sister Iris who was dating a scientist named Barry Allen. Apparently, Barry was friends with the Flash and worked for the Central City Police Department. Barry 'introduced' the super fan to the Flash. Wally asked the Flash a ton of questions. Somehow, the same day, Wally was struck by lightning and was given the same powers when the Flash took on another villain with super speed called the Top. Barry told Wally his secret identity shortly after to build trust, and told him to keep it a secret from everyone including his older sister Iris. Barry made Wally an altered Flash suit and taught Wally nearly everything he knew about the Speed Force and Kid Flash was born.

Wally ran by his mentor's side for years until the day he joined the Young Justice Academy with other young heroes. Wally was with Nightwing when he was still called Robin in the Academy, and the two were best friends. Over the last two years with members falling in and out of the active roster, Wally was hit exceptionally hard when it was revealed Nightwing was behind enemy lines and likely a slave to Brainiac like the other two hundred thousand people in Metropolis. Wally runs with Barry and the rest of the JL/YJ heroes in hopes their friends and loved ones haven't all been enslaved.

Notes: IS accepted.

[User]
The Captain's eyes lit up at the mention of Nightwing's status. This seemed to be just the news the two teams needed to get their spirits up. Now Billy had to consider going with Batman or not. Sure, his extra fire power could be the turning point in the battle to save Nighwing and all those civilians, but if he left then he couldn't defend the safe zone if the 'all mighty' Brainiac decided that Metropolis wasn't big enough for his huge ego. Ultimately, the crimson clad hero knew that he couldn't just stand by while his fellow Leaguers got to go out and bring the fight to Brainiac whilst saving their fellow hero and a load of civilians.

"I'll go with ya, Bats! Still got some kick left in me, stamina of Atlas and all that..." Captain Marvel proclaimed as he stepped towards Batman and Wonder Woman with an eager look on his face. When the approaching meta got closer Billy tried to stifle his laughter at the individual's means of flying. Ever since the appearance of Darkseid Billy normally burst out laughing when he would see a super-being flying in a standing position. Billy kept his humor to himself though since he didn't want to offend the incoming flyer, at least not yet.

[Assistant]
Finn was still in a bad mood and people seemed to still be trying to just look on the bright side of this situation. His annoyance rose a bit when Wonder Woman said to call it a day and he rolled his eyes. How on earth could she call it a day when there was still a mechanical menace out there that had enslaved several members of the league? It seemed like he was the only one besides Batman that was taking this situation seriously and now the subject of the Caped Crusader going back to find his old sidekick was brought up. William wanted to kill some more techno-zombies and continue his crusade against this evil science.

"I'll join you Batman, my sword is still hungry for the flesh of these sinful scientific monstrosities" he replied to them as he held his longsword firmly in his right hand, the blade glinting in the sunlight. His attention was then drawn to the figure flying towards them, Batman seemed to know this new individual and William wondered if this was good news or something bad.

"Are they friend or foe?!" he said firmly to Batman and was curious to hear the league founder's response. If this new person was an enemy then they were going to have a taste of God's fury.

[User]
From a distance, the flying figure was merely a dark silhouette with a white cape buffeting dramatically in the breeze. As he drew closer, certain details became apparent: The newcomer looked, aside from the flying, like a normal, well-formed human youth. Dark of hair and strong of feature, he was well-groomed with a air of authority about him. His facial features, well... were familiar. Frightening even, in their familiarity.

He could tell that he was being observed; that was the point. Low altitude, slower speed on the approach. Let himself be seen, and see them. The nonverbal responses from the military present were a clustering of shock, reservation, and suspicion. The strange newcomer's approach slowed further as he neared the group of Earth's Heroes. He settled lightly upon the ground a few paces from the two Justice League founders, Batman and Wonder Woman, and walked the remaining four steps required to enter range for polite conversation.

Up close and personal, the reason for the odd looks was obvious: This person was a dead ringer for the Last Son of Krypton, the inestimable paragon of righteousness, Superman. Details were off, of course. He had green eyes, bright and intelligent, and a slightly more slender grace about himself, hinting at dexterity training necessary to a person that did not rely on nigh invulnerability.

He spoke with a solid, confident voice, initiating conversation stiffly. "Thank you for receiving me, Sir, Lady, though I recall requesting Diplomatic Courtesy on behalf of an Envoy of Almeracian Royalty. As this request was summarily ignored, I can only assume that you have something of greater importance taking priority?"

His eyes darted about, taking in details around him. "Please forgive my impatience. I had a long journey here. I am Maxus-El, First Prince of Almerac, of the Imperial Bloodline."

He pressed a small white strip of material to the inside of his cheek and handed it over to the two Founders. "Run this through your biometrics, such as it is. It will confirm my identity and relation to two members of your League. It was Mother's wish that I enter the ranks of the Justice League. She was insistent that it was a worthwhile endeavor, and that as a Legacy I would be given direct consideration."

"In the meantime, what is the situation? I am noting indications elevated stress, unless you Terrans always look like this."

[Assistant]
"I'll join you Batman, my sword is still hungry for the flesh of these sinful scientific monstrosities", the archaic warrior proclaimed.

 "Likewise", Xiu hopped in. "All these bullets are weighing me down. I need to spend a few m-"

 As she spoke, she saw the swiftly approaching figure, suspended eerily in the air.

 "The hell?", she breathed.

 "Are they friend or foe?!", Sir William inquired.

 "No time for taking chances", Bluebird mumbled to herself. With frantic speed, she gripped the AMR-2 armour-piercing rifle on her back, and swung it around. Wedging the stock into her shoulder, she lowered herself onto one knee and took aim. As the strange figure descended to the ground, in front of the group, her grip tightened and her eyes grew wide. A tinge of regret ran through her, for her decision to not bring any kryptonite-tipped bullets. Still, what were the chances his eyes were bulletproof too.

 The man began speaking to Batman and Wonder Woman, with excessive pomp and pretense. Friend or foe, Xiu already hated him.

 "In the meantime, what is the situation? I am noting indications elevated stress, unless you Terrans always look like this.", the alien blathered, with the diction and mannerisms of a walking aristocratic stereotype.

 "Bats! Is this guy in the clear?", Xiu asked, taking aim directly for his left eye. "Locked", she whispered.

[User]
For the record, I still think this plan is foolish.

"Yeah, yeah, I heard ya the first five times." hissed Shay in as low a whisper as possible. Presently, he was using Alastor's powers to blend himself into the colors of the foliage outside the military camp. Metropolis, being a quarantine zone, was pretty thoroughly locked down, as such entering the city wasn't happening without some form of authorization, be it from the Military or the Justice League. Shay, much to the demon's annoyance, made it his mission to get into the League's camp so he could directly offer his help to them. Getting Alastor to agree to the idea was difficult, but not impossible. The conversation had gone something like this:

"You want to do WHAT?"

"You heard me. We sneak past the Military, then show ourselves to the Justice League. The very fact we reached them undetected should be impressive enough to convince them we're worth having around."

"Yes, I heard that part. But, um, one question..."

"Shoot."

"WHY? Do you have ANY idea how wrong that plan could go? And how exactly does joining the League's little crusade against Brainiac benefit us in any conceivable way? If anything it just paints an even bigger target on our backs."

"Jaysus, I've told you before! I'm bloody flah'ed out with all this runnin' away bollocks. I say we find a way to take the fight to those bastards for a change!"

"And you intend to use the League to do that? I'm not sure they'd appreciate being used like that."

"That's why we're gonna help them first. We scratch their back, they scratch ours. We may be runnin' from the Divil, but the Justice League ain't no pushovers, neither. So what do ya say? Let's make nice with the League and earn us a favor we can cash in later."

"That... is actually surprisingly well-thought-out. Fine, I agree... for now."

"Your the one who agreed with my plan in the end." Shay pointed out, reminding the demon that he did indeed agree to what they were currently doing, and so complaining about it now was a waste of time. It was too late to back out now.

"Just because I agreed with it doesn't mean I have to like it." the demon's voice retorted.

Sneaking past the Military wasn't as difficult as Shay initially thought it was going to be. Their security measures didn't exactly account for demonic stealth powers. Either that or they were too focused on watching Metropolis or paying more attention to the oddly Superman-like person that suddenly flew down into the camp at about that time. Holding his position and occasionally making his heart stop to maintain silence, Shay and (subsequently) Alastor watched from a fair business as the flying person basically beat Shay to his own plan and offered his assistance to the League. Although one of the apparent Leaguers gave the visitor more scrutiny than the others, even training one of her weapons on him in the event that he was looking to pick a fight.

"Um... Shay?"

We're a wee bit busy at the moment!

"And this takes priority! There's a man with divine powers here, Shay! You may want to duck out of here before he-"

Will you shut up for a minute? I'm tryin' to watch!

[Assistant]
Wally picked his nails, then looked back up. They called it a day, huh. Wally wiped his red hair out of his face.

He was glad that his best friend, Dick was still alive. Like Superbeast, that was best thing he's heard in weeks. He was too tired to do much at the moment, maybe a few snacks would do him good.

Then, Wally saw the movement. "Huh?" He asked. Something was moving in the air. He didn't know how he felt about this. St. William asked if it was friend or foe, Wally was wondering the same thing. He noticed how Bluebird got ready, and he got in a fighting stance himself. They might be dealing with a serious, serious, issue.

When can Wally get a break?


[System]
Alias: Photon

Age: 19

Sponsor: Dr. Light, Raven

Personality: Greedy, Cunning, Caring

Powers: Light manipulation: Can generate and absorb electromagnetic waves, though the further they are from the visual spectrum the harder they are to work with. While this ability is generally fairly weak, he also has the ability to bend, focus, and redirect light, which is remarkably strong, and can even be used to keep industrial lasers and laser weapons from hitting him. This ability also works on hard light constructs, such as holograms and Lantern constructs, due to Dr. Light's training. He has been known to focus the ambient light into laser beams when need be, but they are generally weak due to the small amount of light in them.
His suit can absorb light from the visible and some near-visible wavelengths, storing them for him to use or using them to power a hard-light shield on the surface of the suit.

Weaknesses: Darkness. Without light he has to rely on the small amount generated by his suit or the small amount he can generate. During his training with Raven, however, he learned to resist the weakening effects of Darkness.

Appearance:

Brief Bio: He doesn't remember his parents, just growing up in an orphanage on the outskirts of Gotham. The adults there were cruel, only caring about the money they got off of the kids, not the kids themselves. When he started exhibiting powers at the age of seven the people there saw him as a gold mine. With a metahuman working for them they could make huge amounts of money. They quickly pulled him out of school and started his grueling training, with one of the workers there teaching him karate via the "if you'd learn to dodge you wouldn't get hit" technique. They'd then make him exercise, followed by using his powers. When he became too tired to keep practicing, they'd beat him until he started practicing again.
One day he decided he'd had enough of this and, when they tried to beat him, he blinded them with a burst of light. He ran away and never came back. He learned to live on his own, being taught by the beggars, thieves, and general low-lifes how to make a quick dollar when you needed to. He even learned to read and write due to the teachings of one of the homeless men in the area. The man was an ex scientist who'd let alcohol ruin his life, but he was more than happy to teach a child about math and science. From his teachings Lin learned about how you could cloak something by bending the light around it, and found that he could do the same thing with his powers.
When he grew up he went to look for a more reliable way of making money and came across Dr. Light. The Doctor agreed to build training devices for him, and help him to learn to use his powers as long as he would steal things the Doctor needed in his research. One year ago, however, the Justice League caught Dr. Light and locked him up. Lin decided to strike out on his own, but when, a few weeks later, he found a young girl living on the streets in Metropolis's China town district he got an apartment nearby and adopted her, though not officially. He now steals things for whoever is willing to pay.

What's Changed: N/A

Notes: Skills: Stealth, Parquor, lock picking, hacking, studied several martial arts forms

Sample Post: Photon decloaked himself near his apartment. Another successful job. Another paying client satisfied.

"Azarath Metrion Zinthos" he heard, and was immediately surrounded in a sphere of darkness, cutting off access to his power source, namely ambient light. He tried to output enough light by himself to overpower her trap, but she was too powerful. Eventually, he stopped struggling and she made the field around his head disappear. "Photon. You're under arrest. Give back your stolen goods and I'll make sure the police go easy on you."

"I don't have it anymore, I already delivered it to my client."

"Then tell me who the client is so that I can get it back." she responded.

"I can't do that. I'll lose clients if I tell who they are."

"But you'll lose Lin if you get sent to prison." she said, referring to Photon's sister.

He knew that he couldn't risk getting locked up, as she would be sent to a orphanage if he was put in jail. "So you know about her. That means you know why I need the money. I'm willing to switch sides and work for you instead, but I'll still need a paycheck."

She thought about it for a while, then nodded. "Fine," she said, "we'll work something out, but in the mean time, consider me your parole officer. Now, the name of your client?"

Photon nodded. "Luthor."

[User] "Hey Kid, how about you not come up with names for people before you speak to them. Some may not enjoy being called strange things such as feathers." Jamed stated calmly from the table where he sat. His next statement was directed toward Guardian Angel. "It is a pleasure to meet you Angel, you may call me Scourge." He stood and smiled at the winged female. "I look forward to working with you." He winked at her after that statement. He still wasn't to excited to be in this place. He would had to get used to a brand new place. He was so accustomed to the fire house that he wasn't sure how exactly he would get along here.

[Assistant]
Michael's head cracked against the floor with a resound thud. How in the hell did I get myself into this? He thought to himself as he was once again pinned to the ground with his arm twisted behind his back. Help me with a demonstration, she said. An electronic chime sounded above him as the number on the display over Black Canary's head increased to 15 as his remained at a whopping 0. I wasn't expect 15 rounds of fighting with her! Hell, I would have worn something a bit more padded than jeans and a shirt!

"I think that's enough of a demonstration of the capabilities of the training program here in the War Room," He could feel her looking down at him. "Don't you think so, Michael?"

"Oh, yes, quite enough." He strained to say as she twisted his arm just a bit further before releasing him. Oh, thank God! I thought she was gonna break it. He pushed himself up on all fours before coming up to a kneeling position to roll his arm around in a circle. Again. He groaned as he stood back up and stretched before turning to face Black Canary. "If you're done with me, I'd like to get something to eat before everyone shows up and eats all the food."

She nodded to him as the displays over their heads vanished. "As you can see the War Room can be used as a training area besides what may be available in other areas of the headquarter."

She turned as a large display with the layout of the city appeared, but before he could heard her give the same speech he had heard before he left the War Room and began to make his way to the kitchen. Having been at the headquarters a full week before any of the other's that had been sponsored arrived he had wandered the halls of the headquarters and had found many shortcuts to other areas of the building. He decided now would be the time to use one if he wanted some of the food that was giving off such a delightful aroma through the entire floor. When he arrived where the others were he paid little attention to them and sat at the table where the food was before fixing himself a plate.

[User] AngelFinally someone with tact. Angel smiled and approached Scourge and offered a hand to shake. "Likewise. I hope I may serve you all well." The newcomer entered without a word and started eating. So far this group seemed largely uncooperative. The dynamic made her unsure how Sarah would intergrate with the others. However there was no way to find out but to try, but not just yet.

[Assistant]
Shock was pretty much delighted by how much the team enjoyed her food. It was great to have a second use for her teammates -- guinea pigs for her culinary school. She was pretty sure she perfected her sauce and finally took a seat next to the Hood (who looked kind of worn out by the way). She first picked up her bread, (Rolls were one of her favorites!) munching on it as she turned to look at one winged member. "I wonder why she talks like that? It's kind of creepy..."She said to no one in particular with her face somewhat confused. She shrugged it off though. Maybe she was a robot like Red Tornado. Of course, there was a way to figure it out for sure. She could go give her a nice little love zap and see if her electricity fried any circuits...but curiosity killed the cat. She could accidentally turn a teammate into a hell bent psycho keen on destroying their lives (like in one of Virgil's video games! Ha.) or have to deal with one pretty pissed off non-robot teammate for the rest of her stay here. The pros didn't outweigh the cons so she sighed, turning her body back towards her plate and proceeding to eat some of the chicken.

She wondered how her abilities would stack up to the rest of theirs on the field. Would she be a burden she could sometimes be with her brother? Or a teammate that everyone eagerly awaited. She'd just have to worry about all that later she supposed. For now she settled on listening to how her teammates interacted. It wasn't that she was shy or reserved. She would just speak when someone wanted to speak with her instead of forcing her conversation down someones throat. It was a time to take in their personalities too. She hadn't seen everyone yet but she had made judgements about some. Scourge seemed like someone Shock probably wouldn't readily get along with after his reprimand and jokey demeanor about her food tasting good (Of course it tastes good...i made it, her face took on a somewhat sour expression). Judging by how quickly Angel got along with him too it was probably a given that the pair of them would be at odds (ignoring how condescending her personality already came off with the way she spoke and worded things). The Ditto guy seemed adorable though, pretty cool how quickly he liked her food, Photon too. The hood and Kid Rogue she still wasn't sure about but all these were just first impressions...She could be greatly mistaken.

After she finished her plate, she cleared the chicken bones and placed everything in the dishwasher before leaving the headquarters to sit up in a tree. There weren't many wooded areas in Dakota City which is something she yearned for. She felt pretty free in the forest which is ironic given her power-set. She took out her pole, extended it, and flew up towards a branch before hopping onto it and setting her back against it as she calmly closed her eyes and let her thoughts wander.

[User]
Dominic smirked as the so-called Angel responded. It seemed that he was wrong about her being a companion of Hawkwoman. To be fair just because she had a set of wings didn't mean she was automatically A Thanagarian! Although if she ended up claiming that that other place of origin was the big place upstairs, then he was calling bullshit! Sure he could get superheroes and even aliens, but this was something different.

The comment from the so-called Scourge nearly made him laugh out loud. It would seem that there were heroes among them yet! Flexing his arms slightly, he stood tall and moved forward into the room, gently tossing the explosive he was playing with from hand to hand. After pausing for a moment, he opened his mouth once more.

"I am terribly sorry!" He said, his voice riddled with sarcasm. Turning to face Scourge, he continued. "I promise you now Big-man, that I shall not do it again!"

Chuckling slightly he watched as the room gained a new arrival. He gave the hooded youth a short salute before making his way to the refrigerator. Peering inside, he frowned. After place his grenade on the countertop, he rummaged around inside, shunting about the various cans of soda and ready meals.

"I don't suppose we have any beer?" He asked, turning around to face his new teammates. "Please don't tell me that we're going to have to rely on that Pepsi shit in there?"

[Assistant]
"You've done well in supposing otherwise," Ray mocked a chivalrous tone. But a sly smile crept across his face before he spoke a special sort of sentence, the kind of outright defiance that created the rebellious teenage stereotype long ago. "We don't have it, but we do have something better." He waved his hand over at their winged associate.

"It'd be great if you would pass me a Pepsi though," he rested his hand on his chest. Mimicking a junkie, he quivered his voice and trembled his every muscle "Could really use somethin' to take the edge off... if you know what I'm sayin'."

"The name's Raymond, I go by Time Bomb." He shrugged, "But you can call me Ray." Then, to no one in particular, "Does anyone know what can clean bulletproof vests? There's this stain on my emblem and I can't get it off. I don't want it to look like there's blood on my logo."

It's just spaghetti sauce. Could get a great bit for my reputation if any of the bad guys saw it though. Looking at all the people surrounding him and recalling those in his vicinty, he summised that a reputation would be all of an advantage he'd really have unless some of the higher powered members fought with their brains instead of brawn. Then I'd have nothing.

[User] James glared at Kid. He didn't like the way the male spoke to him. He was so used to being treated fairly that he wasn't used to the fact the people may not like him. He had worked with the same people long enough that they all knew each other on a personal level. "Don't call me big man. I have no desire to go by any other names. Do not call me by another name unless your intent is to irritate me, in which case we may have problems. Also drinking while on duty isn't a good idea, no matter how little." He shot back at the male then looked to be other male who had asked about washing bulletproof vests. "The outer cover should be removable, you should simply be able to put it in a washer. If not then sponging it with soap and water should do the trick. Of course if it is a bad stain, stain remover works as well." He shrugged as if his knowledge of the armor was normal and continued with his food. Now uninterested in the rest of the people in the room. James wasn't normally this hot headed but for some reason he was on guard now. Was it the new environment and new people? That had to have been it. He did know one thing for sure, if they were expected to be a team it wouldn't be an easy task getting them to work together without some sort of bickering. A lot of training was going to have to go into the teamwork of the group. That much was obvious to him.

[Assistant]
"I don't suppose we have any beer?"

"There's a pub in Dublin I go to some times, no minimum drinking age and all." said Photon. "They only let Supers in. We'll Zeta there after the day's work's over. In fact, if anyone else wants to go, I'll buy them a pint of Guinness too. Just as long as they promise not to come to work with the hangover the next day, that is." Photon rarely drank himself, but he found that it was a good way to get people to like you. "I'm Photon by the way." He held out his hand.