[System]
but with a yellow tie
Super Name: Anarchy

Powers: He believes his powers are centered around his desire for freedom. As such, they are all tools with which he can either remove restrictions or defend against restrictions.

 Amplification: Suppresses the limits on a person's powers or physical body, amplifying them. The more he amplifies a person's powers the faster it tires them and the more it physically harms them. He is able to suppress the negative effects in himself quite a bit, allowing him to safely amplify his own abilities far more than he could safely amplify another person's. If use on someone with dormant powers, it will let them access their powers, allowing him to give potential meta-humans powers.

 Telepathy: Little more than Empathy unless amplified, he can feel another person's fears, concerns, and pain. If amplified he can speak telepathically, and if they allow it, can view another person's memories, though he can't alter memories or force his way into minds.

 Telekinesis: He can shield himself from attacks, either with a skin-tight or a bubble shield, and can lift objects, whether touching them or not. He can also fly. If not amplified it is limited to a few hundred kilos of strength and a flight speed of 100kph. If amplified he can lift up to 100 tonnes and fly at up to mach 10.

 Technopathy: He recently discovered that if he amplified his powers he could break electronic and computer based encryption and security. He is unable to access the files directly with this power, but he can break into them and download them or view them on the machine itself.

Technology: Railgun pistol, Nanotube Armor body suit, wrist computer

Acquaintances: Kevin Kirk (friend)

Personality: He wants to help people be free. What you do with your freedom is up to you, as long as you don't use it to hurt anyone.

Bio: As a child he was treated terribly but his drug addict parents, who rarely fed him but kept him at home to make him work constantly. When he was twelve he was locked in his home, desperate to get out, when the lock on the door broke and he ran away. He spent the next six years on the run, believing that the cops would lock him up if they caught him. While on the run, he learned to read and eventually learned enough to get his GED. He now realizes that he must have been boosting his intelligence with his powers, which would explain the headaches he kept getting. He also learned to use his powers and use them to his advantage.

He got a job working construction, using his powers to secretly help himself, while taking classes online. Eventually he learned enough about technology, chemistry, and biology to start inventing things and selling the patents. He used the money to start Phoenix Security Services and, as they were one of the few security companies that had the technology to take on super villains, they began guarding research facilities. This included research facilities belonging to Lexcorp, Wayne Enterprises, Star Labs, and others.

About two year ago he discovered that he could break computer security with his powers while investigating a stolen shipment of Lexcorp particle rifles. He found that the theft was ordered by a Us General Wade Eiling for use at a secret government facility in South America, and went there under the guise of a hero to get the shipment back. During the resulting battle, however, the base was destroyed and, when he told the press why he went there, they chose to say he was a terrorist. This got the Justice league involved and he had no choice but to side with the Legion of Doom for his own safety. He convinced them to follow him on the grounds that he would help them destroy the Justice League by amplifying them and their powers and, one year ago today they had their greatest battle ever.

During this battle one hero did die, Superman, when Lex Luthor ran a Kryptonite blade through his heart. Anarchy flew off with the body to see if the Ultrahumanite could save his life, but the man of steel died on the operating table. They cremated him, after taking scans and cell samples to verify that he was completely dead and not just in another healing trance, and Anarchy returned the ashes to Metropolis, where he commissioned a statue for the fallen hero.

After that he built up his Security force, hiring ex heroes and villains, as well as ordinary people, and set to work stabilizing the world by being a kind of police force that specialized in super villains. He hired Kevin Kirk about three weeks after the great battle, and the man became one of his best friends and his advisor.

[User]
Mark Patterson, CEO of Phoenix Security Services, formerly known as Anarchy, was in a meeting with his head of security operations, John Stewart. He looked up as Kevin Kirk, his assistant, opened the door. "Sir, there two men here to see you, Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen."

"Of course," he said, "send them in." After they entered, he greeted them. Neither looked too happy to see him, but they weren't openly hostile. "So, how's the the plan coming?"

"Not too good," said Queen, "Building a prison colony at the bottom of ocean isn't exactly easy."

[Assistant]
Across the way, on the roof of a neighboring building stood a hooded figure. Through a pair of compact binoculars, the renegade archer called Arsenal spied his target's office. He could see Patterson inside along with his security chief, the former Green Lantern John Stewart. Normally he would be crazy to attack Anarchy head on, especially while Stewart was still on the premises. The building was heavily guarded, but as far as Roy knew John still possessed his power ring and could become the Green Lantern again at a moment's notice. He needed to be lured out of the picture, and Arsenal believed he had just the thing for that.

"Look's like we're all set," he said into the earpiece under his hood. Arsenal wasn't alone, a meta named Toon Girl was somewhere on the ground level. Roy met Light not too long ago, and somehow managed to convince her to join his little crusade against Anarchy. Why she agreed, Roy didn't actually know, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that, unlike his ill-fated first attempt to stop Anarchy as Red Arrow, Roy had backup of his own this time, "Stewart's still in the office. Make that distraction as loud as you can. Whatever it takes to get John to respond personally." Roy's plan was simple. Light, who was damn-near indestructible, would create a distraction. This would hopefully keep John Stewart focused on her so that Roy could go after Anarchy directly without a Green Lantern standing in his way.

He waited a few moments until he could hear what surely had to be whatever distraction Toon Girl was making. At that time, he readied a zip-line arrow and aimed it just above Patterson's office window. The next thing everyone in the office knew, an arrow made a small thunk against the building before a hooded man came crashing through the window. Arsenal was quick, landing on the floor to quickly roll back to his feet with a new arrow almost instantly ready to fly, "Mark Patterson, you have-" Roy froze, realizing all too late that John wasn't the only former superhero on the premises. Even if John left to deal with Toon Girl, Patterson was still accompanied by two men Roy knew all too well. Suddenly his plan went from being only a little risky to being downright suicidal. He didn't have time to think, Arsenal just shot his arrow squarely in Patterson's direction knowing damn well that either Bruce or Ollie would easily intercept it and then bolted for the window he'd entered through and actually leaped out.

"Abort!" Arsenal barked into his earpiece, making sure his modulator was distorting his voice so Ollie wouldn't recognize him, "Queen and Wayne are both here! I repeat: Abort!"


[System]
The galaxy is, in a way, it's own character, and everyone is free to add things to it. This is a collection of all the "Meanwhile!" style posts, that either provide some commentary to what's happening, explain some concept within the game, foreshadow certain events or simply add a wonderful little bit of extra flavour to help set the mood. To keep things vaguely organised, the posts will be linked to in the order they've been posted, along with a note of who wrote what.

Meanwhile! The Introduction of Doctor Frosty & Cold Front
Meanwhile, upon Dämmerlicht... by @Valor
A Hendersons Ribs Jingle by @TwelveOf8
A footnote on Swarm Sentience by @DracoLunaris
Meanwhile! An Introduction To Faster-Than-Light Travel
Meanwhile, in the past... by @DepressedSoviet
Meanwhile! Life on Dämmerlicht! by @Valor
Please rise for the national anthem of Monochromia, with notes, by @TwelveOf8
The Hendersons Ribs Safety Jingle, transcribed by @TwelveOf8
A newspaper article from Ofromia Tonight, written by Aggro Deluxe.

[User]
Vanessa waited patiently while Toony vacuumed Maracun. For a brief moment, she saw it. The flash of plastic against the surrounding lights, flitting quickly towards Toony's vacuum tube. With surprising speed, Vanessa grabbed it before it entered into the opening of Toony's vacuum and was potentially destroyed. The ID confirmed Vanessa's suspicions. Tossing the card back towards Toony's vacuum, Vanessa vanished with a pop. The crewmembers knew that she had teleported, but the Twitcher before them would likely be in for a start. Vanessa reappeared again a few moments later. There were several different things to note about Vanessa now. The first was that she was no longer wearing her dress, and was back to a suit. The second was that her body shape was back to it's usual thin form. The third was that she now had her rifle, the fourth was that her rifle was now loaded, and the fifth and final thing to note was that Vanessa had her rifle leveled at Maracun.

Her finger millimeters from the trigger, Vanessa gave a firm command. "Hands up, don't move otherwise. Tell me what you have done with the staff here. If you make any sudden movements or don't follow my commands I will happily shoot you and get my answers elsewhere." Vanessa's glasses were pushed into place, rather than merely resting somewhere along her nose. Her cheek was pressed gently against the stock of her rifle, and with keen enough vision you could see the faint reflection of the sights that Vanessa's rifle had in Vanessa's glasses. Vanessa currently aimed her rifle at Maracun's head. Traditionally, the best place to aim a projectile weapon was into the center of mass, which was usually the torso. The problem here was that Maracun's center of mass was really his head more than anything else, since it was the largest thing on his body. Thus, Vanessa aimed there in order to have the best possible chance of hitting him and likely slaying him should he try anything funnier than he had already been attempting.

Vanessa's senses went into overdrive at this point. She could hear the faint whir of ventilation fans around the landing deck along with the faint buzz of The Bees over the background noise. She could see the individual twitches that Maracun's feelers made, and could smell a diverse collection of various bodily odors along with mechanical smells such as fuel, exhaust, and oil. Her secret as a vampire was blown, so Vanessa might as well make use of every ability afforded to her to gain the upper hand. In the end, vampires were still just slightly improved humans, and some other species throughout the galaxy were almost natural predators against humankind. In those types of encounters, you had to play to your strengths and exploit the weaknesses of those you were up against.

Vanessa only hoped that it would be enough.

[Assistant]
After a bit of playful vacuuming, Toony cleaning all the 'dirty' spots on this snake thing who apparently didn't appreciate her fake vacuum tickling his feelers, Vanessa stepped up briefly and took something from Toony when she was 'cleaning' the snakes cloths. Shutting off the vacuum and reforming her hand with the same mechanical motion, Toony noticed that Vanessa was at the ready to shoot the poor guy, a piece of plastic on her person.

"Vanessa, don't be rude!" Toony said, grabbing maracun and pulling him close to her in a hug. She shifted around so that Marcum was still facing Vanessa's rifle, Toony behind him, but she kept up her fake playful voice. "Dunno why you wanna shoot our party host here. I mean sure hes down on his luck, but I bet all he needs is a hug to feel better!" with that, her arms coiled around Mr. snake in such a way that drastically restricted his movements, while cuddling him as if he was a cute puppy. She did manage to give a wink to Vanessa when Maracun looked away out of... some kind of emotion, it was kinda hard to read his face.

"C'mon, take us to your friends. I'm sure we can sort this out." Toony said, shifting around a little and gesturing with one of her hands for Maracun to guide her along as she 'protected' him from Vanessa.

[User]
A serious answer wasn't given to his question to the Ofromians. Fiddlesticks wasn't surprised, though it did make his secret mission a whole lot more complicated. He reminded himself though, that the people at the party sounded drunk and rowdy. Surely it wouldn't be such a grand feat to find someone with some rather unconventional tastes in robotic partners.

A thought suddenly struck Fiddlesticks. The ladybug cleaner bot didn't reveal the appearance of their online love interest. Without a second thought, Fiddlesticks bolted from bridge of the Quest for Flavour.

Fiddlesticks ran through the halls of the Quest for Flavour , searching for the ladybug cleanerbot, but to no avail. Searched high and low he did, though he didn't call out for it. This was a secret mission after all. The business Fiddlesticks had with the cleanerbot had to be kept secret. Surely anyone else would've gladly helped him find the adorable little bot, but alas, explanations would've been demanded.

Fiddlesticks gave up the search a short time after the ship landed. The ships landing was so smooth that he didn't even notice it at the time. Only when he peeked out of one of the many portholes did he realise that the Quest for Flavour made terra firma.

Fiddlesticks decided that he'd figure something out at the party. Improvisation was a skill that Fiddlesticks prided himself on, but seldom demonstrated well. And so he ventured back towards the bridge to rejoin the rest of the crew. To his surprise, everyone else was gone.

Leaving Fiddlesticks behind, typical sentient being move. There was no time for self pity though, for he was late. Late for a very important date. Fiddlesticks figured that the rest of the crew would've left for the party already, so as not to offend the hosts. Not every planet had the concept of being fashionably late after all. Fiddlesticks hurried out of the bridge, towards the retractable exit ramp of the ship.

Of course, when Fiddlesticks walked upon the landing pad, nobody else was around. That was the time he noticed the strange creature crawl from the side of the Quest for Flavour, and into the open maintenance hatch. And so began Fiddlesticks subterranean misadventure.

The relief Fiddlesticks felt when he found the ladybug cleaner bot down in the maintenance tunnels was palpable. He was starting to get lonely and little freaked, being down there by himself. Fiddlesticks was pretty sure that he was lost at that point. Surely the cleaner bot knew the way out.

[Assistant]
"You're not here to take me back? I'm not going back! I'm going to be free, and, and go wherever I want! I'm going to meet Tabby! She..." the robot's voice quietened down to a low whisper, "...well, she likes that other me, not the me-me. Hmm." @Hylozoist

"I have no idea what you're talking about little cleaner bot" stated Fiddlesticks. "All I know is that I'm lost and I need hot chocolate, and maybe a hug. It's scary and gross down here." Fiddlesticks explained.

"Luckily I have my lucky spanner with me." said Fiddlesticks, patting the giant spanner strapped to his back. "Anyways, what are you doing down here little guy?" he asked.


[System]
Age: 124

Appeared Age: 28

Race: Werewolf

Human Appearance: He stands at about six feet in height, with a lean, muscular build and somewhat broad shoulders. His features themselves are rather mild, a gently squared off jaw, slightly almond shaped eyes, average nose, and thin lips, but has an air of handsomeness around him despite this. He keeps his hair relatively short, though it remains long enough that it is obviously wavy, and is a light chestnut brown shot through with lighter streaks. His eyes, Most of the time, are a light blue, flecked with spots of gold. His skin is lightly tanned, with a smattering of barely distinguishable freckles across the bridge of his nose and tops of his cheeks, but is otherwise free of blemishes or scars.

Wolf's Appearance: He's rather large in size, even for a werewolf. The base coloring of his fur is a dark ashy gray blended with strands of black. The majority of his face, forelegs, and tail however are a pale gray in contrast. In this form, and win the wolf is close to the surface, his eyes are a bright golden yellow.

Personality: Rather reserved the majority of the time, he still seems to be working through a heavy grief still, keeping him from willingly getting close to others. Those Who have known him for a long time however will admit that he has improved over the years, developing relationships quicker than in the past. Even so, He is not quick to reveal details about himself, Especially when it comes to likes and dislikes. He is very protective of those he considers on his side, willing to put himself between them and a harmful situation. But if trust is ever breached, it is very difficult to get back into his good graces. When closer relationships have been established, he is more likely to voice his own opinion on situations, share stories, or show a hint of dry humor. He has a very tactical mind, thriving on solving puzzles and creating strategies.

[User]
With his gaze regularly skimming over the crowd, William's eyes had just glanced in the Direction of a digital clock display hanging in the window of one of the nearby establishments when his attention was snatched by the flash of yellow out of the corner of his eye. As he looked, his attention immediately focused on a little girl in a blue and yellow dress, her curls tied back with a yellow ribbon. Each of her hands were occupied by one each of her parents hands, the couple smiling at her and one another as they strategically lifted and lowered her to and from the ground as they walked, all three of them giggling. A pair of boys trailed them, the Younger of the two chatting enthusiastically with his brother about what sounded like a video game they had gotten the opportunity to test. William's expression softened for a moment, before deepening with sadness an instant before he could pull his stoic mask back into place. With one last glance at the girl and her parents, he forcibly made himself go back to watching the crowd.

And then a powerful smell reached his nostrils, overpowering all others and making him instinctively want to wrinkle his nose or sneeze. Resisting the urge to do either, William had just glanced in the direction that he thought the smell was coming from when a rather neat and orderly looking man stepped up to him and spoke his name in a cool no nonsense voice. Briefly studying the sharp hawk like features, the Blue eyes that resemble chips of ice, he then looked towards the woman at his side, genial smile playing around her lips and Hazel eyes that was so much different than her partner's. Because the two had to be partners, if both recognized him. Confirming his suspicions, the sharp man reached into an inner pocket and pulled out an FBI badge, The woman doing likewise a moment later. With this establishment of identity, he finally nodded his head once to confirm his own, responding to the question he had heard when his name had been spoken. Looking from Agent Archer, As the man identified himself, to Agent Turner, a brief hint of amusement glittered in his eyes at her interruption before he hid it once again.

"Simply William will do just fine," he responded to her in a deep even bass, taking her hand in his own and giving it a firm shake. "Though I agree about the circumstances being less than desirable. Shall we find somewhere to discuss the matter further? Or would you prefer to stay here?" he directed this last question towards Archer, who's frigid demeanor might give the impression that he preferred being outside in the middle of winter rather than seek refuge in a store or restaurant.

[Assistant]
Official introductions complete, Taya released William's hand with a nod.
 "I'd prefer to have done this at the office," Eli answered William's questions through an almost growling sigh. "Fewer civilians." His gaze followed a few oblivious passersby, eyes narrowing slightly.
 Taya spared her partner a glance.
 "But," she drew out the word as she looked back to William, "I know a good diner near here. Usually not too busy this time of day," she added, looking to Eli, "with a back room they'd probably let us use, so we could talk in private." She turned her head back to William. "And good food, if you're hungry."
 Eli sighed. "Very well." He gestured with a gloved hand for her to lead the way.
 Taya nodded, then headed toward a side road leading from the square. She walked quickly through the streets, eager to get out of the chill of the day. Eli followed, his posture and dour expression a ward against small talk.
 Various shops lined the street. Displays in storefront windows added an extra splash of color between winter's monochromes and the rust-colored bricks of the building strip.
 She paused just long enough to open a door beneath a weathered sign reading, "The Flying Cow." A bell decked in holly jingled as she entered.
 Behind her, Eli eyed the sign's cartoon of a winged purple cow crammed between sandwich fixings and burger buns. Frowning and brows raised skeptically, he followed Taya inside.
 The aroma of fries and cooking meat filled the warm blast of air inside the diner. Taya took a deep breath, enjoying the smell she hoped would drown out Archer's herbal scent for a while. As she had promised, only a handful of people occupied the mismatched chairs and purple upholstered booths. A few paintings drawn by local artists hung from the beige walls.
 A man in his early twenties stepped out from the kitchen, his shock of hair so red it had to be dyed. A waitress with a tray piled with drinks and plates of food balanced in her hands followed him out.
 "Taya!" The man's face lit up with a smile as he looked to her. "It's been a while, doll—" his term of endearment cut off, turning into an awkward clearing of his throat as he noticed Eli behind her. "Er…"
 "Hey, Alex," she answered, unphased as she stepped toward the counter. "Think we could use your party room for a while?" She nodded to where one of the back walls gave way to a folding door.
 He blinked and looked back to Taya. "Yeah. Yeah, sure!" His smile returned a bit tentatively. He quickly gathered three menus from behind the counter.
 Alex cast Taya a curious, knowing glance, but said nothing as he led the way into the back room. He placed the menus on the table in front of three of the nearest chairs.
 "Luce'll be in shortly to take your order." With a last glance to Taya, silently warning her to expect questions the next time he saw her, Alex left, sliding the door shut behind himself.


[System]
Gender:
Female

Age:
Adult

Species:
50% RainWing
25% SandWing
25% SeaWing

Abilities:
- Has a RainWing's venomous spit
- Can change color at will much like other RainWings, though the color fades into a diluted hue as it reaches her flank
- SandWing venom is not potent, causes paralysis in certain parts of body
- Good swimmer
- Thanks to her gills, can breathe underwater for a decent amount of time, though not nearly close enough to pure SeaWings

Shortcomings:
- Poor flyer
- Can't breathe fire like SandWings can
- Dehydrates easily, leading to lethargy
- Her understanding of SeaWing language is very poor
- Sleeps a lot

Appearance:
Her stature is somewhere in between a RainWing and SandWing, with a thicker, SeaWing-like tail. She bears a cyan-hued color most of the time. The scales running along her face are bright yellow in color, and the same can be said for her underside and wing membranes. Her eyes shift colors depending on the shade of her scales. Orangey-yellow stripes swirl down from the base of her neck and down to the middle of her tail, though these too change color depending on the situation. Her frills, which are a slightly darker shade of blue than most of her body, are most prominent under her ears and along her spine until they reach the base of her tail. She can flatten and raise these at will.

Vivid bears gills and webbed claws. Her stinger is almost nonexistent; if one looks close enough at the tip of her tail, her stinger sticks out like a miniature dagger rather than an actual SandWing stinger. The stripes that line her body can light up, though they are much dimmer than a normal SeaWing's bio-luminescent markings. Her fangs protrude slightly from her upper lip, as with all RainWings.

Personality:
Adventurous, happy-go-lucky, talkative, friendly, stubborn, easily frustrated, can be fierce when need be

Other:

[User]
Every single one of her footsteps felt like they were weighed down with boulders. From the shallowest end of the tunnel, she heard the cries of the dragons who hollered for bloodshed and gore. She shuddered. How could they be so willing to see their own kind tear each other apart? If they even consider them at least half their own kind. Vivid wished she could just turn invisible, but then they'd just laugh at her and force her to fight anyway. The light on the other side of the tunnel became brighter and brighter, closer and closer, until both of them were shoved out into the hot daylight once again by the guards.

Her ear pricked slightly at the other hybrid's warning. His words registered in her head, though they were quickly drowned out by what laid in front of them. Rows and rows of dragons, mostly SandWings, hooted and roared from the siderows. An elaborately-decorated booth, cloaked with golden silks and trimmed with silver, was nestled above the rows of writhing heads and wings. There stood Queen Caracal, flanked by two more SandWing guards. Her scales were a brilliant bronze color and her underbelly was a lovely cream, though what caught her attention the most were the black markings that surrounded her eyes and ran down the length of her muzzle. Her ivory horns were adorned with golden rings and bangles inlaid with topaz. Vivid had heard many things of Queen Caracal– of her sheer beauty, her deadly temper, and how she was the only queen in the whole existence of Pyrrhia who ruled both the SandWing Kingdom and the Scorpion's Den. That went to show where her morals lay…

Caracal's wings flared from her seat as her eyes, black as pitch, settled on the dark SandWing from earlier. "What is the meaning of this, Boa? I thought I ordered that the trophies were not to set foot in the ring." Her voice lingered between a hiss and a snarl.

Boa stepped out into the ring behind them. "No worries your Majesty. I thought that you might like something a little more entertaining before your meal."

"The NightWing monster will kill that puny thing in an instant with its ice breath. Answer me this– how will I sell a dead or crippled trophy? Its worth will be gone in an instant."

"Ah, that's the thing, my Queen," Boa answered with a flick of her black tongue. "Let them fight using only their strength. No poison, no ice breath, nothing of the sort. It will thrill the onlookers… along with your palette."

Queen Caracal grinned, revealing golden fangs that glinted in the desert heat. "Very well, then. Let them fight. If something happens, though…" She slowly raised a paw and pointed a golden claw in the SandWing's direction. "Let it be on your head, Boa."

Boa bowed her head and fanned out her wings. The other guards beside her did the same. With that, the crowds' voices raised in excitement once again. Their roars drowned out the thumping of her heart in her ears and muted her thoughts. Before she knew it, she was shoved to one end of the arena. Her shackles were undone, and the unburdening of her wings and limbs felt like she had just ascended to the moons themselves. A sigh left her maw as she raised a paw to rub at her tender scales around her wrists and muzzle. Then, she glanced up at the other hybrid across the Pit. They were both ready to fight. How did one even fight a NightWing-IceWing hybrid, though? Just because he couldn't use his ice breath didn't mean he couldn't read her mind. If he even had those powers to begin with, that is.

Vivid stood up on all-fours and ducked her head, standing her ground in front of Frostbite. If he was confident that his plan could work, then she might as well go along with it. Her yellow eyes glimmered with anticipation as her scales slowly shifted into a vibrant indigo. The crowd's roars turned into chanting as the battle was wont to begin.

[Assistant]
It was difficult to tell if what Frostbite had said actually landed with the smaller hybrid, but that was the best he could give. He didn't want the others to die, contrary to the way he acted most of the time, but he also wasn't going to risk his own life. Especially not for some scrawny SandWing who looked like a stiff breeze would probably knock her over, let alone a claw swipe.

His eyes flickered around the arena, set up the same way as before when he'd fought against the SkyWing. The screams and jeers, the mass of sand colored scales, and perched amongst it all the smug gaze of Queen Caracal. His vision briefly snapped back to the previous time he had been shoved into the Pit. The similarly scrawny SkyWing, scales painted with blue and a wide tail that showed heavily the SeaWing in him. The fear in both their eyes as they were pushed forward, the realization that one of them would die, and the conviction when he decided it would not be him. Instead he had killed someone and regretted it ever since.

The shouts pulled him back to the present as his eyes narrowed up at Caracal. She would be much more beautiful if she didn't always have that smug smirk across her muzzle and an obvious disregard for the lives of other dragons. He glanced curiously at the SandWing guard who had brought them out. Trophies? She must mean the SandWing then because he certainly wasn't that.

Interesting. So the other hybrid wasn't meant to be sent into the Pit, she was meant to be sold, or something similar. As Queen Caracal said it would be on their guard's head should something happen he fought down the more vicious side of himself. The side that told him that he should damage the smaller hybrid just to prove the guard wrong. Take back some control in his life and send the guard to an early grave. Would serve her right for what she did to them. But, he had said he wouldn't hurt Vivid and he wasn't going to go back on his word. That would make him no better than the hoard that watched them.

He stretched out his own wings as they were freed and shook slightly to free the spines on his neck that had clumped together. If there was one benefit to being in the Pit before he knew what these monsters liked. They wanted aggression and violence. A show. That was all this was to them and that much he could do. He just had to be careful not to actually hurt her with his serrated claws. He looked across the Pit and took in a deep breath.

As the call to begin echoed through the area he raised his head and let out a bellowing roar to the delight of the crowd. Idiots. He used his wings, star white scales on the undersides glinting in the light of the desert, to give himself a push towards Vivid. He made it across the Pit faster than one would expect of a dragon his size; taking a somewhat curved route so that he could slam his full weight into the smaller hybrid from the side. He cuffed her hard on the side of the head, making sure not to use his claws, as they tumbled to the ground. He knew how to make a fight look good even if he didn't actually hurt her. She just had to trust him.

[User]
Vivid crouched lower to the ground when Frostbite roared out of anticipation and, honestly, a little bit of fear. She thought she would be quick enough to dodge his attack, what with the size and shape of her body, but he was surprisingly fast. His initial attack knocked the breath out of her as she was sent skidding across the sand. She tried to recuperate, but her eyes widened in shock when she saw his paw raise to claw her face. Her heart racing, she tried to shield herself with her wings in preparation for the blow, but even the second part of the attack was way too quick. Luckily, she was only met with a smack that half-dazed her. Thank the moons he didn't claw her– his talons were so terrifying, she was sure they'd rend her in half.

Somewhat disoriented, yet still full of vigor, Vivid snarled as she charged at Frostbite with all of the speed she could muster. She leapt into the air and clung to his shoulder before she sunk her teeth into the side of his neck. Vivid was careful not to exert too much pressure as to terribly wound him, and she was sure to keep any of her venom from slipping into his blood. Her heart thumped in her chest. What came next? Oh, right, she should probably claw him. Her talons scratched at his dark scales, leaving shallow scrapes that didn't produce much blood, if any at all. She could feel the SandWings' eyes on them, Caracal's own scorching into her back like the desert sun. Vivid knew she had to feign a proper fight, unless they saw through their ruse. Things would get bad quickly if they did, and she was sure that Frostbite's plan would get buried under the sand beneath them.

[Assistant]
Frostbite was somewhat surprised by the sudden vigor shown by the little hybrid, but he supposed when you were fighting for your life it gave a bit more of a push. He snarled back at her as she charged him, trying to rear up to bat at her as she leapt at him. It gave her the opening to grab onto his shoulder, and he roared in over exaggerated pain as she sunk her teeth into his neck.

He could feel her claws scraping on his scales and knew that they would protect him well enough. The shallow scrapes weren't enough to do more than sting, but blood leaking onto the sand sold the act more.

A growl rumbled in his throat as he swung himself to the side into a roll, crushing Vivid underneath the majority of his weight to get her to let go. As he rolled back onto his feet he swung his spiked tail downwards. He could kill her easily but he aimed for her side rather than anything vital. He left a deep enough gash to make it bleed, but no more as she had done for him.

His breath was starting to come in heavy pants from the lack of food and water as well as the exertion of the fight. The sun beat down on his dark scales as gave Vivid the opportunity to get back to get back onto her feet. They would only need to draw it out for a bit longer before he felt like he could end it and get his plan under way. He had no idea how well it would work, he just hoped that it would.


[System]
26|5'10"|Male

[ S Y N O P S I S ]

Edward is an enthusiastic reporter hailing from an island within the Ventuian airspace. He currently lives in Edgenook on Ventui's main continent, under the employment of the Winged Gazette (a large news firm in the city). After several years of cajoling his boss, Ed was finally allowed to accompany an expedition beyond the Ring of Thunder, for what Edward promises will be the "story of the century".

[ A P P E A R A N C E ]

The Winged Gazette has a very stringent dress code: no piercings, visible tattoos, or dyed/long hair is accepted at his workplace: only clean, contained haircuts are allowed. There is no rule against facial hair, however, and Ed, having recently learned he can finally grow a full beard, has started to let his hair grow out. He likes the scruffy look, although more importantly he likes not having to shave as frequently.

He stands tall and with his shoulders back most of the time: his boarding-school upbringing was sure to keep slouching out of his life, but now he likes to relax as comfortably as possible when working. Slouching, recline, or flat out laying down are all positions he enjoys, but that militaristic-level of straight-backed standing has never truly gone.

[ P E R S O N A L I T Y ]

Edward is fairly extroverted, with a talent for asking questions and getting answers. He likes talking to others, but he also enjoys his alone time, to recharge his batteries and take deep breaths before the next round of socializing. As a reporter, the line between what is acceptable and what is necessary has become somewhat blurred to him, and Ed has no trouble asking uncomfortable questions if he thinks it will bring him closer to a story. Blunt and to the point is as easy as tactful and roundabout questioning for him.

On the flipside of that same coin, Ed also knows that there are times to be silent, and he is more than willing to keep his mouth shut and listen as well. While notetaking or thinking, he is far less amiable, answering questions or comments with short answers and little focus. He doesn't mean to be rude, but Ed knows that none of the great questions of life were solved by yammering about stupid topics.

[ H I S T O R Y ]

Edward Samick was born with an inquisitve pair of eyes. His mother and father called him "the little hawk", on account of his sharp eyes staring at anything and everything with hunger and obssession, like a tiny litle baby crazy person trying to drink up the world with his eyes. Not that it mattered to him: he was a baby and didn't care about trivial things like being crazy.

As he grew, the little hawk slowly refined his gaze: no longer did he stare with a crazed need. Instead, he gradually transformed the look into one of interest, intensity...query. For many years, he spoke not at all: his parents were worried he had some kind of mental illness, as his eyes bugged out at everything, but his lips remained sealed.

He was four when he started speaking: the doctors had dubbed him a "mute of unknown reasoning", but Ed had simply been biding his time. When he spoke, it was in full sentences. And once he started, Mr. and Mrs. Samick could not get the little hawk to shut up. His first word was "why". In an effort to teach Ed some self control and get some peace and quiet for themselves, his parents sent him away to a boarding school as soon as he was allowed to leave.

Teachers were delighted by Ed's questioning, when compared with the surly little monsters who were his peers. This resulted in a kind of feedback loop where, being rewarded for being talkative, Ed developed into an extrovert slowly and surely. He was generally well-liekd by his peers, although his penchant for asking questions got him in trouble on so numerous an amount of occasions, that he was once nearly expelled when a well-placed question at the wrong time started a riot in the school cafeteria.

Still, Ed was bright, quick to smile, and good at managing his time. His father gifted him with an old pocketwatch when he was 16: it was a family heirloom passed down at the 16th birthday for generations. With the help of that watch, his parents, and a keen mind, Ed graduated school with flying colors, and went on to pursue a degree in Journalism at the prestigious University of Gelbek, a regional university of great renown within Ventui.

College went about the same as his early schooling: he got on well enough with his professors and his peers, despite his absolute need to know all sorts of answers to all sorts of questions. Journalism came easily to Ed, and by the time of his graduation, he had worked several internships with the Winged Gazette in Edgenook, Ventui. He graduated to a well paying job in one of the most exciting cities in the known world, and for several years he worked with an enthusiam that led to quite a bit of success.

It was the discovery of the second obelisk outside the Ring of Thunder that got Ed on the hook. Suddenly there were hundreds of questions pouring into his mind about the outside world, and he really had no way to answer them where he was. So he bgan badgering his boss to let him join a trip down below. He bothered and bothered and bothered until finally his boss he could go and that he'd better get a fucking scoop or so help me god Edward I am going to jam a spoon down your throat--

His path was set. Ed got in touch with the UINC, explained the situation, got the proper clearances, and packed his bags. He said goodbye to his parents, smiled at his scowling boss, and headed out for the biggest story of the history of the world.

[ N O T E S / O T H E R I N F O ]

Edward carries a very old pocketwatch; it is a family heirloom, passed down to the eldest child of the family on their 16th birthday. Through a strange twist of fate, almost all of the generations have been single childs.

He also carries a notebook of waterproof paper and a pen. He has an excellent memory, and will often write down the important details of an event that night, long after they have occured.

[User]
"You're not fine, so stop telling me you are when I can see the evidence that you aren't" Luna said, perhaps a bit too harshly, but that was probably due to the conditions she was working in. "You need to work on your reaction time, when something big comes at you, you dive away from it. We can't always keep an eye on everything for you" When she was done, she sighed continuing with her examination, finally standing and getting the officer to help get Constance out the cave. She couldn't very well carrying the woman that far!

Once back at Camp, Luna opened her kit, and said with an apologetic tone "This is going to hurt, but you were thrown so chances are you hit your head, and I don't want to give you pain killers in case you have a concussion, but I have to stitch the wounds shut so you don't bleed out. Let me know if it gets too much" She said softly, regretting what she had to do, but knowing that it needed to be done. who knew when the others would get back? She hoped none of them needed medical treatment with her here. When they made it back to the boat, Luna had Constance taken to the infirmary, where she could watch her.

Finally figuring that enough time had passed that she could risk some pain medication, she made up a tonic, and gave it to Constance, sitting back to wait for the others to come back aboard, hoping that they would all be alright. When everyone returned, Luna was relieved. She bustled around the medbay to make sure it was organised, but it was mostly nit-picking. She didn't particularly want to leave Constance alone-just in case.

Weary, she sat down, wondering what else would happen on their adventure. It certainly had been an elightening time so far. She had learned so much about herself, already. And they certainly had had excitement. The ship being on fire, the storm...the monster...surely there couldn't be much more to experience? yet then, just how far had they come? It was an interesting thought process, and Luna leaned back in her chair.

[Assistant]
Constance rested with her back against the railing of the ship, her head turned from the others while she rubbed her finger around the rim of a glass as if she was disinterested by their presence or perhaps just distracted by the beautiful blue sky. Neither were truly the case; in fact, they were both quite the opposite. She was worried that the others might be watching her (funny, considering how normally she was worried that they weren't), and feared that the slightest grimace would make it appear as if she was badly pained and should be kept bedridden like some sickly child. She could hardly bear the thought of being restricted in her comings and goings, and so she silently prayed that the shade cast upon her face from her hat was enough to hide her expression—which, as the boat rocked gently, was twisted into the face one normally made when they had just unexpectedly taken a drink of water only to find out it had been vodka.

Although, she wouldn't mind a surprise like that now, considering her glass was now nothing more than tonic water and the slightest hint of salt. Officer Raoul had made it clear that until the set of stitches in Constance's side were ready to be taken out she would have to avoid any kind of hard spirits; apparently, he was under the impression that they would interfere with the healing process. Constance was tempted to call him on his quackery, but she was able to show some restraint, much like how she was now showing restraint by engaging in dreadful temperance—and it wasn't just because she was worried that Luna had been sent by the medical officer to make sure that she had listened to his orders. She wanted her wounds to heal properly; she didn't need any more scars.

Yet whenever Edward flickered on that mystical map of his anyone would be able to notice how quickly Constance's eyes darted over to the object only to jump away almost immediately as if she was a bashful lovestruck teen. Truth be told, she coveted the map. By all right it should've been hers: she was the one who had gone into the cave first (willingly), and it had been her gunshots that had drawn Conway and the others to them (thankfully). She could only imagine what sort of information it had on it, but with Ed constantly fussing with it she could make neither heads or tails of the flashes she saw. Constance was tempted to snatch it right out of his hand; she wasn't above just taking what she wanted, after all.

Fortunately, Ed had said something that managed to stop her from doing anything drastic, as well as almost immediately drew her out of her silent state of concentration. She turned to the others, tucking a bit of windswept hair behind her ear as she beamed at them, any hints of pain completely erased from her face. It was as if Ed had reached over and flipped a switch on Constance to start her up like an engine when, in the end, he had just given her an excuse to talk about her most favorite thing in the entire world: herself.

"Eddy! I'm not going to tell you how to do your job, but normally doesn't the reporter do a bit more than just ask for a story to show up?" she asked, waving her hand dismissively to show that she was teasing. "Fortunately, darling, I have the utmost respect for those in your profession and I can hardly bare the thought of you being stuck in a rut. Let's see, a story…" She tilted her head and pressed a finger to her cheek, her eyes wandering up to the brim of her hat as if she had written tales of her exploits on it like a crib sheet. "Well, before I start would you want a happy one or a sad one?"


[System]
NICKNAME: JRock, JarBear(his ex's pet name for him), and just Jar
AGE: 23
GENDER: Male
APPEARANCE:
EX: Clover Clayburn
FAVORITE MUSIC: Hardcore/screamo/metal/rock, but he pretty much likes anything except country
FAVORITE COLOR: Silver
HOBBY(s): plays guitar (among other instruments), DJing, songwriting, partying
PERSONALITY: Jareth is a party animal and, despite the grungy exterior, he has quite the soft side. He is incredibly artistically-inclined, but not always the most intelligent person in the room. Ambitious and hardworking, he hopes to chase his passion for music into stardom.
TATTOOS/PIERCINGS/OTHER: lip ring offset to the left, small gauges in both ears, various tattoos on arms, chest, and back, as well as one small facial tattoo of just dots.
MAJOR IN COLLEGE: Music Performance, junior year
OTHER: Jareth came from an unfortunate upbringing, including being bounced around unloving and unsupportive foster homes. After getting kicked out at age 18, Jar worked at a pizza place for two years while playing in his garage band, Crim Son, before starting college. Now that he is in college, he sees a free counselor that helps him get the meds he needs for his depression and anxiety. That being said, he has a bit of a self-medicating drug habit, but it's nothing serious if you ask him.

[User]
---

Just as Jar was crossing the hall to his room to get dressed, Hunter came through the door. Thankfully he wasn't the bashful type, so Jar didn't blush at his state of undress, not that there was much time to be embarrassed because Hunter began hurling venom at him after slamming the door closed. "You asshole! You fucking asshole!" he bellowed and stormed towards him.

"Jesus!" Jar swore to a god he had never believed in as he stepped back and clutched a hand around the towel to keep it up. Was Hunter going to hit him? Sure, Jareth and Hunter had gotten into their fair share of fist fights through the years, but never with each other. Honestly, Jareth didn't even know what he had done, so he just kept backing away from Hunter's advance with a dumbfounded expression.

"You knew I had a problem! And what's the first thing you do once we get on this god dammed ship?! YOU FUCKING SERVED FUCKING DRINKS!?" Hunter did all the explaining that Jareth needed. Shit… He thought guiltily. It was true, he did do that. But it's not like he was being malicious, hell, it was fucking vacation for crying out loud. And not for nothing, but it was only a few shots, because he had convinced the waiter to give him virgin drinks without Hunter noticing last night.

"I-I'm sorry." Jar stammered out a quick apology. "You're right, that was an asshole thing to do. I wasn't thinking about that, you know how I am." And how was he, exactly... inconsiderate? Selfish? An asshole? He could be all three, sometimes. Hunter continued angrily venting his frustrations. Jareth's cheeks flushed, not a blush, but a response to getting upset. He was about to apologize again when he got really fed up. No, he wasn't supposed to internalize things… it wasn't healthy, that's what Wendy had said. "You know what? Whatever, man. It was just a few shots before dinner. Those drinks you think you had at dinner were alcohol-free. No need to thank me for that, though, asshole! Because you're right, I'm the best scapegoat for your fucking problems, right? No, no, no, I don't think so! Yeah, I gave you a drink, but I was also looking out for you. Whatever you did to fuck up after that is on you, don't put that shit on me."  Jareth broke his rant to refill his lungs with air.

"Waitwaitwait… hold up." Something that Hunter said was finally just registering in his frazzled mind. "Did you just say Delilah? As in your ex, Delilah? 'So-super-hot-you'll-never-believe-it-Jar-but-no-I-don't-have-any-pictures-to-prove-it', Delilah?" Still pissed, Hunter managed to nod his head in acknowledgement. Actually, he looked less pissed and more sick now.

"That's fucking crazy!" Jar mused, "I just ran into Clo too." Saying his pet name for her out loud stung a bit more than it should have. He could hardly remember why he was arguing anymore. "Man… why are we fighting? This is supposed to be the vacation of our lives. I'm sorry things went downhill for you last night. Look, no more alcohol." Jar said before picking up his glass of whiskey and dumping it down the sink. No more alcohol for Hunter, that is. "See? Let's just go get some pizza and waste some time in the arcade or something. Just us, and forget all about exes and drama. Okay?" He flashed a smile, the stupidly perfect white grin serving as a flag of surrender... and an apology.

---

[Assistant]
---

Delilah was peacefully contemplating the open sea when a woman's voice called out "hey" to her, shifting Lila's thoughts back to the present. She turned in the direction of the woman and smiled as her her best friend Clover slipped into the jacuzzi beside her. "Jesus, you always smell so good," Clover commented, flashing Lila a grin as she bumped their feet together playfully under the water.

"Hello yourself! Thank you so much! You know I practically drench myself in perfume before going anywhere." Lila greeted and thanked enthusiastically, taking note of how amazing Clo looked in her bathing suit. It was a very pleasant surprise for Lila to see her friend venturing from her usual conservative items and trying out new things, as she knew how hesitant Clo could be about taking risks. Lila was usually very open, honest and vocal about her opinions whenever good or bad, so she quickly went on to compliment Clover's looks. "And, babe, let me tell you that you are slaying with that bathing suit!" Lila could be a bitch, but she always gave praise and credit when it was well-deserved.

"I'm astonished that you don't have at least three guys fawning over you right now. Are you losing your touch, Delilah?" Clover teased affectionately.

Lila raised her sunglasses to give a mocking scowl towards Clover. "Me? Losing my touch? Oh, please! Do you know who you're talking to?" she replied, playfully splashing water in Clover's direction and sliding her sunglasses back in place with a laugh. "So, what were you up to this morning?" she asked, genuinely curious about what she'd been up to because by the time Lila had woken up, none of the other girls had been at the suite. But before Clover could even begin to formulate an answer to Lila's question, the latter's eyes fell on her best friend's smooth, sleek red hair and she was unable to hold back the giggles. "Oh my God. Tell me you did not actually blow-dry your hair to come hang out at a jacuzzi?!" Lila exclaimed, clearly amused at the sight. She had always been jealous of Clover's hair and skin color (in a good way, of course). It was a dream of hers to be a redhead, but she knew it would clash horribly with her skin tone. And as for Clo's skin tone, Lila thought of it as perfect because pretty much all hair colors would suit her. Lila wasn't making the comment to humiliate or make fun of her in any way, but was instead trying to understand the strange logic that drove Clover to take the time to blow-dry her hair when their trip would mostly be spent on hot and humid places where it would get wet.

[User]
---

Clover flushes a little under the other girl's praise, scratching at her nose and giving a soft cough. "Aw, you flatterer. Stop it, I'll turn all one color," the pale girl quips, flicking a little bit of water at Lila.

"So, what were you up to this morning?" The brunette asks as she slips her sunglasses back down. Lila's skin almost looks golden in the early afternoon sun and one of the pool boys is openly gawking at her from across the Solarium. 'That's more like it,' the ginger thought. Delilah Duclerc was the kind of girl that lit up any room she entered and she always garnered a lot of attention from men and women alike.

"I went to the gym. I'm down to a six minute mile," Clover explains, letting herself relax back into the water. The temperature was perfect and felt splendid against her sore muscles.

"Oh my God. Tell me you did not actually blow-dry your hair to come hang out at a jacuzzi?!"

"Mmhmm," Clover hums, cracking an eye open and peeking at Lila. "I sure did. And once you hear about my morning, I think you'll agree that it was the right decision." The pale girl straightens back up and turns so that she's facing the younger girl completely.

"So I ran into…," she pauses here and glances around quickly, almost like she was checking to make sure no one else was around. Her former boyfriend was a lot like Voldemort, she tried not to speak his name unless she had to. "...Jareth. And he looked perfect, like he was getting ready for a fashion show or something. And I looked like a wet dog. Seriously, I was in my ancient, 'Save the Dolphins!' t-shirt and covered in sweat. My hair wasn't even brushed, I just had it up in a ponytail." Clover makes a mortified groan and she buries her face in her hands, feeling her ears burn at the remembered humiliation from that encounter.

She really was all one color now.

"So I'm not leaving the suite anymore unless I look my best. I can't face him again unless we're on equal footing," she finishes, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear before letting her hands fall back into the water. "What kind of fresh hell is this, that all of our exes are here? We must have been wretched people in past lives, like the kind that kicked puppies or tripped little old ladies or something."

[Assistant]
Hunter

Hunter was on the verge of breaking down. Jareth was right, Hunter was looking for a scapegoat for his problems. He always was looking for one no matter how bad things seemed to get. He was also right on the fact that this was supposed to be the vacation of their lives! And so far things just seemed to be getting worse by the minute. Even though he hated the idea of Jareth restricting the idea of his friend restricting himself due to Hunter's problems he felt a sense of relief when Jareth poured the drink down the sink. "Pizza sounds nice man... it sounds really nice." Hunter was barely able to speak. "Uh... Jareth? Look man... sorry for freaking out on you like that... I'm just... just stressed as hell." Hunter want tot eh living area to find his wallet from his pants from the day before. He found it with his shirt that he was wearing the other day as well. Now he was still wondering how he woke up in a shirt that wasn't his, and who's shirt it was. And why was his shirt still here if he changed into a new one? 'Dammit' He thought as he tried to remember. "Reason one hundred and fifty two to stop drinking." He brushed it off and met Jar at the door again.

Hunter put a smile on his face. It was forced but he was looking forward to things getting better. "Alright then, let's go have some fun." Hunter started to leave when he remembered something. "Also, I found a picture of Delilah if you're interested? It's somewhere in my wallet full of coupons, receipts, matches, and gift cards with about 30 cents on them. Maybe even a couple dollars." He started to dig through all the random crap in his wallet when he pulled out a cheaply printed picture of his ex studding in the campus library, she was unaware of the picture when it was taken. "Proof! Told you I have the ability to have hot girlfriends." He was still struggling to hold a smile but it wasn't as forced now.


[System]
Codename: Impulse
Gender: Female
Age: Appears 26
Ethnicity: Minor-Deity (Taken after Setesh, which means unknown)
Nationality: North American

Height: 5' 2''
Weight: 125
Appearance:

Personality: Dice is always hyper and on edge, no matter what motion she becomes associated with it's usually the very end or passed the limit of of how far it can go, which is the reason why she tends to be overly excited all the time. She's always curious, excitable, upset-able, and surprise-able.

Classification: Divinity

Powers/Abilities:

Anything that had recently died, still with flesh, a brain, and not controlled by anything else.

Note: Effects can city-wide and can only be used on ordinary human beings. Can affect grave sites with recently deceased (No walking skeletons). Those brought back have 2-3x their original strength but have no intellect, are ordinary, slow-fast walking zombies. Nothing is healed, their bodies merely reanimated.
Create havoc and chaos, defined as explosions, busting of glass, roads split, earthquakes rumble, fires burst from any flammable source, normal animals become wild and aggressive. Also cause slight 'zero-g' environments; not jump into space, but everything becomes a little lighter and travels further. This is her personal, natural power from herself. It is not just for causing havoc, but for the rest of its' abilities lie in non-combat roles.

Notes: Only breaks what is physically breakable by human kinetic force. If it is flammable easily (As a type of gas, unlikely for wood to just start burning), can be shattered, crumbled, etc. easily, it does. Bulk head doors, thick and solid concrete, bullet proof glass are examples of hardened material and do not get erupted during Disorder. Earthquakes are completely random and not able to be use in targeting, same as tornadoes from Chaotic Storms. Is city-wide but on small scales.
Creation of a City-wide storm that causes electrical storms, disturbances, heavy and fast winds, and multiple lightning strikes (Chance of creating derechos, tornadoes, water cyclones, and maybe even Supercell Tornadoes, depending on the location).
Ability to travel through solid surfaces through a specific type of focusing, i.e. can not 'phase through' a solid object being thrown at Dice at random. Also able to manipulate own body parts to other places within a certain range. i.e. producing her hand and arm out of a wall or the floor. (Must have seen the area to know its location) -- When striking her own staff with the body part. As a result of having this ability, Dice naturally floats, or hovers in the air. Another result allows her to 'blink' travel. The distance and amount of uses requires intense amount of power, an example of how much power needed is it is recommended only for her blink within half a mile at most. The farther she blinks, the less she can use it. The more of other powers she uses, the less she is allowed to use the blink travel. (Associate blink with teleport)

Weaknesses:

She has little to no physical strength in resistance or power. She relies heavily on her staff for most of her powers.

For most of her abilities, she uses a staff imbued by her father, Setesh. The Staff essentially uses abilities from her father, and she can manipulate what is used and how much power is used. But how much power is also taken from her Father. If she uses too much power, or uses too many of her abilities at once, her Father can choose to 'cut her off' from the source, leaving her with only her personal powers. EVERY power, except Disorder requires intense of amounts of power the wider it is used and the longer it is used. Even for a few minutes it takes incredible amount of power. Each day only one power can be used, excluding Disorder which may be used multiple times, and if attempting to use a single or multiple powers more than once, too long, or too wide, results in immediate cut off for the rest of the day.

No matter the emotion, she is always on the peak of it. If she is happy, she is as excited as humanly possible. If she's nervous, she's nearly to the point of crying. If she's saddened, she becomes suicidal. If she's scared, she will snap and probably go unconscious.

Weapons:
Created by Setesh and given to her when she was matured enough, the staff is a direct link to some of her Fathers power and abilities. It was given to her as a fail-safe and not a toy, in case of emergency as she is unable to physically fight for herself. The staff also can act as a shield or weapon for melee, giving her the ability to fight face to face with her attackers. The strength of the staff in physical use is as strong as needed. But as it was intended for defensive purposes, it is made sure to never break with Setesh' power, but not be able to break everything it hits. In the unlikely event that Setesh cuts Dice off from his power, the staff will still not break, but it will not hold the resistance it had before, basically able to prevent a powerful blow to her, but not allowing her to keep her footing.

Gear: Along with her simple skin-tight clothing, she likes keeping two pistols with her for normal combat.

Skills:High Precision, incredible agility, stupidly overconfident, with her powers and abilities, mostly because of who she comes from, she believes nothing bad will ever happen to her, and she will never have bad luck (Although she acts like she lives on bad luck), because her father is Setesh and if anything happens he will come to her aid. Contrary to the thought, Setesh' only impact on her life was her birth and the gift of the staff. He will truly never encounter her again, reasons why are unknown.

Brief History: Dice was kept in secret for most of her maturity, even after release she stayed under the radar. Her 'modern life' becoming heavily associated with being the 'princess of chaos.' Although she kept off the radar, she has been through many professions (not any that increase her combat skills, just a more understanding of the world and its situation, also for fun).

But when the news came that there was a new main enemy to everyone, and a super team was being assembled to fight them back, Dice saw this as an opportunity to show off. Not to be 'good,' but she always wanted to get into new and crazy things. And fighting aliens may sound corny but for her it was something new to do and did not sound 'normal' to this 'modern day living.' Dice always loved change, which is the reason for her multiple different professions. She also thought it would be hilarious to think about how the conversation would go as 'I'm the daughter of the Egyptian god Setesh.'

Other: Dice has been alive for along time, but her aging is significantly different than the average human being. She is not, unfortunately immortal, and the lifespan of hers seeming to range to a max of 10,000 years at most. When she realized she was mortal and would only live for such a length of time, she has been known to keep her weaknesses and age a secret. When attempting to converse with her about life, illness, or otherwise similar, she tends to immediately become anti-social or run away. Due to her mental state, anything negative throws her off completely and she can not handle it.

[User]
Sighed, as it seemed she wasn't going to be of much help on this venture. "Well guys, everything I do is reaaaally destructive. Maybe I should just sit back and watch until the shit hits the fan? But... oh! You know... I have this cool trick... that if I can actually see a place by any means, I can... do this!" She raised her staff up, and her other hand more or less punched it. The top of the staff had a black circle, where her hand proceeded to punch through, but her hand didn't appear on the other side.

Her hand proceeded to protrude through the table, right in front of Meltdown, where it waved and then gave a thumbs up. "Literally, if Nici could get into the security room, I could do anything. Anything that uh... fits through this... hole" She giggled, thinking lewdly. "Like, drop in some sort of gas grenade, unlock or open a door. Pick up a gun and use it on someone... the possibilities are endless! If it's small enough, I can even take it out of the room!"

[Assistant]
Gamer

"If you don't mind, I think I'll go head and take a look around..." Before she'd even finished speaking Nicotine faded from sight, her constituent molecules breaking apart as she drifted on the wind towards the base.

In this form she couldn't really do anything, but she would be able to 'see' for herself if what the sensors had been showing was really the state of the base or not.

With her mist form spread as widely as she could make it while still being able to fully control herself, something she had enough trouble doing while in one piece, Nicotine gradually settled over the surface complex and began to work her way done the lift shafts, airducts, pipes and every other opening to the surface she could find.

[User]
Phoenix"I am sorry that I addressed you wrong Pirate Queen." He said to her with no tone at all. "I could lay down a heavy mist so that we have the element of surprise or bring in a thunder storm for the over all distraction factor. But either way one team has caver for their entry and the other has a major distraction." F7 said after listening to her speak.

To demonstrate, he took his gloves off and focused. After a few seconds fog slowly began to pour out of his hands and he willed it to surround them.

" It can be done on a more massive scale if you want. He said to them in general.

Some thing inside of him sparked awake. Something he had not felt in a long time; Excitement. It was faint but he knew it was there and it kind of scared F7. Maybe that therapist was right about human interaction.

[Assistant] Nici being so spread apart made her invisible to the human based eyes of the patrols who continued with their movements as if nothing was happening. The surface level was like the projection showed and what was likely expected, both guards and workers around moving things onto lifts and several vehicles sitting around unmanned outside a of a truck with items in the back. Shed' find it a pretty far way down to the underground portion of the facility, once there she'd find it like a less well funded version of Prometheus. Metal corridors leading to various rooms where soldiers and scientists worked on things and tested weapons, several rooms were so secured that even her air form couldn't slide through. Most other rooms she would be able to slip into most having only the standard guards around, none of them carrying any weapons that seemed alien by appearance. Very little of the base seemed out of the ordinary in fact, anything more advanced or crazy was either very well disguised or was sealed off in the more secured rooms. 4 in the west end and 5 in the east, were the rooms that her smoke form couldn't breach as well as the ones with the most security. A control room for most (but not all) of the base security systems were in a room at the start of the east wing, a few security guys monitoring cameras and computers while a few others with weapons stood inside. Maps and labels screens gave a better idea of what was what and clearer access to see inside the non hidden rooms, none of them showed signs of obvious alien technologies or presence.

[User]
For a moment Nicotine let her consciousness linger in the control room, tempted to try and take the place herself without waiting for the rest of the team, but with with four men watching the screens and three more standing nearby armed it would be a close run thing to pull off. There'd be no way she'd be able to without someone raising an alarm in the process, and if that happened Nicotine would be hard pressed to hold the place alone against a concentrated effort to take the room back before the rest of the team could get inside.

Pulling back her mist, refocusing herself back outside the facility Nicotine stepped back towards the briefing table where the rest of the team were still sitting and talking. Scowling at their inactivity while she'd been doing the 'hard' work she moved gracefully back to her seat, reaching for the interface controls. Quickly she sketched in the details she'd managed to gather of the base's interior, clearly marking the sealed areas and the control room.

"I hope I'm not disturbing your little chat," She said sharply pointing at the updated display, "but here's an idea of what we have to work against."

Giving the team a moment to examine the map she'd drawn Nicotine continued to lay down the information as she'd seen it, explaining the guards' armaments and patrol routes, as well as the heavy presence in the control room. "It'll take several of us working together to disable their security centre, there's too many guards in there for any of us to be able to do it alone. I'm more worried about where they may be keeping this equipment we're supposed to be looking for though, I couldn't find a trace of it anywhere."

[Assistant]
Finn was thinking about the possibilities of what could go wrong in the mission when Nicotine came back from her surveillance and looked at the picture she had drawn of the area and informed them about the guards.

"I have a plan, first I will summon my familiar to help us" he said the words of his summon familiar spell and Drake the fox dragon appeared beside him.

"Hello" the creature said to them as its tail moved from side to side.

"Okay so can any of you fly in a way that won't attract attention? I was thinking that one you and Drake keep a look out from above and if you seen anything than tell Drake and he'll send me the information through our mental connection. As for everyone else, we keep the more obvious team members back in case we need a contingency plan and have the more sneakier members infiltrate the base. We can definitely use Relay's telepathy as well of alerting the people outside in case we need help." he told them.

"Does that sound like a plan?"


[System]
Chemist of the Night
ALIASES AND NICKNAMES: Jar, Chemist of the Night, JRock, The Cook.
AGE: 57
TURNED: June 4th, 1982

PERSONALITY:Fun-loving, dark-hearted, musical, calculating, hot-headed, passionate, mean-spirited and extremely ambitious. Don't let the rocker looks fool you, his business acumen is unmatched. His intelligence also makes him prideful and hard to get along with at times. Jareth also does everything with a dramatic - often theatrical and bordering on flamboyant - flair.

BIOGRAPHY: Jareth was at his prime in the late seventies and early eighties. He spent his days sleeping in and his nights getting drunk, high, and making music with the boys. Jareth was the lead singer and guitarist for Crim Son, a little band he started in his foster parents' garage - before they kicked him out, that is. I guess they didn't like the drugs, or his friends, or his music, or… him.

Even before vampirism - even with the excessive drug use - Jareth had a great mind, talent, and ambition on his side. His little garage band took off in the local Portland region, gaining a decent following and, fortunate for the boys, a few groupies. After a show one night, Jar was smoking out in the alley behind the bar when a hot little thing with fiery hair and a leather miniskirt approached him. Thinking her another groupie and always being one to objectify women, Jareth pinned her against the brick wall and kissed her hard and fast.

At his brutish reaction to her charm, the vampire woman clutched her hand around his chin and switched their position only to slam him against the wall with enough force to make him shudder. "No, no, little beauty. I'm going to teach you how to submit." She said in a purr.

Jareth can't remember much of what happened next, he remembers pain similar to getting a tattoo, except one his neck. He assumes that's when she bit him. But she didn't turn him then, oh no, that would have ruined all her fun. When he woke up he was tied up in leather and chains, coated in his own blood. She did things to him, evil torturous things, sometimes pleasurable things, and in a way it may have seemed like she was doing these things to show him that the way he treated women was wrong. But that wasn't the case, she was just evil, and her behavior only caused his hatred to grow, but Jareth was clever in his hatred. Such a clever boy.

The ruby-haired woman promised that if he should ever learn to submit to her, she would make him strong like she was, and he could be hers forever. Strength, Jareth craved to feel strong again, so he put his mind to work. He had convinced her that she had broken him, that he had come to love her in all the torture and time. So she turned him into a vampire, and as soon as he was able, he killed her.

It didn't take long for Jareth to figure out what his special powers were. His strengths in life became his strengths in death, as his brilliant mind constantly worked in overdrive. In the dawn of modern science, Jareth had a knack for things like chemistry and synthesis. And what did he do with his awesome powers, well he figured out how to make money, of course. Vampires, especially old vampires, get bored easily -They have an eternity to live, to explore, to contemplate, and they can't even get high? And what do vampires have a lot of, especially the older ones? Money, and they are more than willing to spend it, especially on the darker things in life.

Jareth got to work synthesizing a drug that works on vampires. He figured out a way to genetically and chemically alter human blood so that it gave vampires the effect of being high, a high much like that of tripping on acid. All vampires react to O-neg a bit differently, but for Jar, it gave him back the only thing he missed about his humanity: a way to escape his own mind. For some vampires it felt like ecstasy, or just pot, or acid, it could take you all the way up and then let you crash through the floorboards. For Jareth, it gave him back the inspiration he needed to continue with his music, it stopped the endless thinking, thinking, thinking…

Vampires took to O-neg like kids in a candy store, and before long, Jareth was one of the youngest extremely wealthy vampires in the US. Wealthy, but not famous, Jareth wasn't stupid; He kept his recipe hidden in his head and his work severely underground. In his travels, Jareth met Theo and they bonded like two f**ked up peas in a pod. Jareth is the money and brains behind Blod, and Theo is the brute strength. Theo was just the person that Jar needed to find in order to keep him safe from his own ambitious ways.

FAMILY: Rogue – Blod family member. Jareth keeps his membership to Blod a secret, much like his O-neg lab. Even Adelisa wouldn't recognize him as a Blod member… the only one who knows, and the only one who matters, is Theo.

POWER: Brilliant Mind. The whole idea of people having a stronger left brain or right brain doesn't apply to Jareth, he excels at both the arts and sciences. He is what the humans would call a bonafide genius. That being said, his mind is his own strength and weakness – it is impermeable to compulsion and mental manipulation, but his intelligence hinders his perception of social cues and morality.

SIDES: Downright evil. He likes other vampires, but he seeks out the fall of the other established families in the city, desiring to have the whole city in O-neg's grasp. Jareth is more than willing to drink from and kill humans. He is also known to be an extreme misogynist.

WEAPON:Chemical warfare, where he lacks in strength, he makes up for in intelligence and crafty weaponry. Homemade bombs and acids, chemicals and fire, those sorts of things are his forte.

OTHER:Don't let the rocker chic and the charm fool you, Jareth is NOT one of the good guys.

[User]
Klaus was pleasantly surprised not to hear the other vampire unsheathe a blade or pull a gun as he turned back. Instead, he followed in silence, probably just as tense as he was. It seemed more and more apparent that the other didn't mean any immediate harm, though Klaus was still understandably hesitant to trust him. When they reached the kitchen, he noticed Mithias' gaze on the book, which he addressed as he opened the freezer.

"It was co-written by a vampire," Klaus explained, wrinkling his nose in contempt. He pulled out a single bag of blood and then wrinkled his nose at that. He just didn't like anything about the house, it seemed. "I'm Klaus," he added. Despite his age, Klaus wasn't a terribly big name in the vampire world--he spent most of his time off the supernatural grid and definitely staying out of family business. He glanced to the other before tossing the bag into the microwave. When he found the right buttons, his attention turned to the cupboards where he fetched a single mug. Then, since all he could do was wait for the blood to warm, he focused his attention on the other guest again.

Those golden eyes were complimented by a handsome face and long hair, and Klaus' gaze flickered away for a moment. He had nothing more to say and he was still hesitant to ask questions as the wrong questions could give the stranger answers better kept secrets. So instead, his gaze flickered to the clock above the kitchen entrance; he wondered where Mira was and--he would never admit it--but he did hope Praetor walked in with her. The more Kingstons the merrier at the moment. He turned back to the microwave. He was quick to pull the bag out, dump its contents into the mug as he tensed at the scent, and set it before Mithias.

[Assistant]
*"I see them as no better than Englishmen."* said Adrian.

Just the thought of the English folk made Béatrix audibly growl, she'd never really given up the grudge that she held since before she was made a vampire. Adrian then mentioned that she always looked more like herself covered in someone else's blood.

"Covered, you think?" Trixy asked, "I'd like to think that a mild splattering from gunshots accents my eyes better." She gave a dark smile and chuckled at her own joke. Trixy flitted over to the door, the excitement of the hunt propelling her.

[User]
**Alistair Blackmoore**

"But certainly not as *fun* as the Englishmen," Alistair said, the words dredging up memories of Jacobites and the Union as he moved to follow Adrian. He gazed around the room of unconscious humans with a pensive frown. "I'll call in a few friends to erase their memories."

He grinned wolfishly at Trixy. "One day, we'll get you in a blood-red, poofy Victorian dress. I'm sure that'll accent your eyes too."

**Morven Blackmoore**

"It's none of our business, Ches – or, well, yours'. I just don't like you being so close to it all." Morven said, standing on her tiptoes to tuck the strand of hair back behind the taller – older – vampire's ear. Still untidy, but ever so slightly better, enough for her to nod to herself. "My grandson's probably dealing with it right this second."

She linked arms with Ches to keep them moving. It was certainly unsafe for the two to just stand still, a pair of freaks, in the middle of the sidewalk. "When was the last time you had a bath? Your hair can be both... tickly *and* filled with dread from not washing."

[Assistant]
Ches pursed his lips like a disappointed child when he was told he couldn't help, nudging another pebble with his toe. But his pouting stopped and was replaced with the homeless vampire's usual goofy grin as Morven linked arms with him. He looked down at the smaller vampire, or rather just turned his head towards the girl's general direction as there was no way for him to see through the bandages around his eyes.

He cocked his head to the side as he considered Morven's question, as if it was truly difficult. **"Hmm... Ches played in the green water at the big park last time Mama Melody was on the funny box."** He said, though it was little vague Morven could figure out Ches meant he went swimming in the lake at central park.

[User]
Adelisa silently followed the small group. They looked over at the tavern, but went past it and toward the docks. Adelisa stiffened slightly, knowing the amount of new vampires but still decided to follow. Of course she did not trust newly turned. She watched the group join the others, but at a distance.

She could hear them talking about their adventures and she rolled her eyes at how "amazing" they thought this all was. She hated it, but she shoved that down to watch the newbies at work.

[Assistant]
"Is that so?" Mithias responded about the book, concluding from the wrinkled nose that it didn't belong to Klaus. He tilted his head ever so slightly as he watched Klaus warm a blood bag for him. Truly, he had expected a wine or scotch, but blood... this was an offering.

Blood was life. It was a sacrifice given by a single person, one member of the species Mithias had come to call his kindred. In a way, at least to Mithias, it was sacred. Blood was something required by a vampire, and if not given it would be taken in the heat of an uncontrollable thirst. Such a drink wasn't the same as any other. It was like giving sustenance, adding to one's health, a gift that truly promoted power survival and sanity. Mithias was touched.

Lifting the mug in two hands and holding it before him, the black-clad warrior bowed deeply. "My gratitude, Klaus." Mithias knew that no matter where Klaus had gotten this blood, he could have used it himself, but instead had shared it with Mithias.

He drank deeply from the mug. The vision of a hefty young man with dirty blonde hair and military uniform lying on a table at some mall somewhere appeared in his mind. A good heart he had, having grown into adulthood with discipline and a loving family... his mother in particular, smiling at him. Only a flash, but the blood spoke to Mithias of the soul of the being it came from.

Eyes closed and head bowed, the vampire hovered a moment over his mug. A red glow faintly fading from his eyes as he looked up again. How long would it be before Mira returned?

[User] Adrian started walking with his hands grasping slightly at his suit jacket and when they were finally walking he turned to Alistair, "I have good reason to believe these vamps want to make a name for themselves." His tone darkened, "I got a letter from Morgan..." He pulled Trixy and Alistair closer with his massive arms, "All that was in the letter was a crow feather...but we all know Morgan's gift is divination... And the crow represents death..." Adrian released his grasp and his cheer suddenly returned as they started making their way to the docks.

[Assistant]
"When it comes to dresses, I much prefer purple. It shows the world just how royal I am." Trixy responded to Alistair with a playful smile that lit up her eyes, giving a nod to the noble heritage she was forced to leave behind. She linked her arm in his in propriety as they headed out the door. Suddenly Adrian piped up and spoke to them of foreboding news from his sire.

"There will be death, and a lot of it, as I cross off every name on my list" Trixy said with a sly smile, masking her true emotions. Truth be told, she knew that divination was a powerful gift, one that often spoke volumes of the future. Morgan would only send a message that dark if she was confident in its accuracy.

Béatrix felt a stab of fear, and the realization that she had made a mistake gripped her throat like an iron vice. She should have never settled down, she should have never made the choice to care for these people. A Blackmoore was going to die… but who?