[System]
Age: 28
Appearance:

Personality: Grim and antisocial, Gareth is the picture of a stoic mercenary. He responds to money and little else, and his face is usually immovable as a stone. He alienates fellow sellswords with his personality, and exclusively takes jobs where he can be by himself. Because of his solitary nature, it's unclear what he truly likes or dislikes, but it is nearly impossible to make him angry, or emotional at all. Perhaps he has everything shut up inside of himself, or maybe he really doesn't feel anything at all. But if the latter case is true, why is he even living life at all?
Reputation: Gareth is well-known in Taenyth, and would be known to those in Afaede who might have knowledge of large-scale criminals (thus, probably the royal family.) He is no secretive thief, and is often so confident in his own strength that he would walk right into a place and take what he wants. He has no home and does not frequent cities much, so the law can seldom touch him. He is known as a wandering brute, or maybe even a wild man who lives in the forest. Because of his rough nature, it is told that he has no honor and would betray anyone. His signature is his weapon (see below, Combat Abilities.)

Motive for kidnapping: The money, of course. He refuses to say who is paying him, but he hails from the rival kingdom of Taenyth, a place he rarely leaves, so it isn't difficult to make an educated guess.
Likes: Solitude, cooking, relaxing in nature, taking things slow.
Dislikes: Noisy people, demanding people, needy people, snakes.

Combat abilities: Gareth's signature weapon is a large two-handed sword, dull and pitted from old age and so much use. While he is mocked for not keeping his weapon sharp, he makes up for it with an exceedingly strong sword-arm, turning the weapon into more of a sword-shaped club than an actual blade. In a fight he focuses mostly on keeping himself steady, defending and watching for good times to strike. He's very difficult to unnerve, even in the heat of battle, which makes him a great fighter and a great strategist, and he excels at making plans on the fly and adapting.

[User]
Afaedean summers were always excruciatingly warm, the air heavy and thick even after the sun had found its bed beneath the horizon. The sky was clear, the moon casting a cool white light across the white and gold stone of the palace, and the city had settled into a peaceful stillness. For now it seemed the bustle of the trade fair the previous week had faded. Namyna sighed, already missing the lively travelers and entertainers it had brought. A yawn came to her lips as she looked across the city from the back halls, the quietest wing of the whole palace. The lake shimmered beyond the city walls, reflecting like thousands of diamonds. She idly wondered whether she could slip past the guards to escape to its cool, windy shores.

"You're up later than usual," a familiar voice commented, amused. Namyna didn't even turn to face him, a smirk crawling its way to her lips.

"I could say the same of you," she returned. "A prince is no good to his people if he sleeps the day away."

"I am not the one that sleeps until after high noon."

Namyna finally turned, her tongue poking out from her lips at the comment. "There are worse things than beauty rest for a princess."

Brelan chuckled, giving a playful hit to her arm. "Is that what you call it?" Namyna struck out against his arm in return, much harder than her twin. He laughed harder, earning another punch. He wrapped his arms around hers, despite the flailing it incurred, placing a kiss against her forehead. She attempted to headbutt him in the process, just barely missing. Still, it brought a smile to her face - she would've denied it if asked.

"Get some sleep," Brelan chuckled as he set her down, turning to continue on his original path down the hallway, waving his hand over his head as he went. "I'm going to make sure you're up for sparring practice at dawn."

"Don't you dare," she called after him, hearing only laughter in his wake.

The princess turned again to the balcony, soaking in the moon's light and the sight of her city. Sleep would still be a while off; it would be no harm if she remained here for a few more minutes.

[Assistant]
This part of the palace was quiet and dark. This was pleasing to Gareth. He liked the quiet well enough, and its relative emptiness was a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle it had been the past week as he laid in wait. For a whole week he had endured being around countless people, pushing, shoving, sweating, making noise... all for the capture of one girl. But now, he couldn't help but feel it was entirely worth it. He had gotten to see such a wonderful view, and the only things that stood in his way were a few guards that were, thankfully, relatively easy to knock out without any fuss. Afaede was a kingdom of relative peace, and it showed in the palace's calm demeanor.

Still, it had been no walk in the park. It had been a grueling week of planning routes, contingencies, and talking to people. All for the glint of gold... His employer should be satisfied with the quality of his work. Nobody had recognized him on the street, and nobody had seen even a hair on his head since he first set foot in the palace. If it were any busier, if patrols were more frequent, it would be easy to come across his trail of unconscious guards. But his target was in sight now. Even if he got ambushed by three or four guards, it would be too late.

As he melded into the shadows, calming his breaths, he watched the prince and princess interact. He had no interest in the prince, but the girl, his target, did interest him. She was a fighter, he could tell from her bearing. Perhaps a bit of a tomboy. Gareth ran a hand through his disheveled hair, closing his eyes for a minute. It was not going to be an easy trip, that was for sure.

The princess was looking out over the balcony, at her city, to be sure. It was a beautiful sight, but for Gareth, it was simply a distraction. And a good one at that. Once he had confirmed the departure of the prince, he left his post in the shadows, sneaking up behind the girl, where he would snake a hand around to grab her mouth, reaching for his sword with the other hand, but not moving aggressively beyond that. Holding this pose, he spoke to her before she could get a word out.

"If you don't struggle, I will not hurt you. If you scream, you're going to sleep. Either way, you're coming with me. What'll it be, Princess?"

[User]
The hand that pressed against her face was unfamiliar, rough skin pressing her lips shut. She smelled the thick scent of leather and metal - he was armed. Panic gripped her, her breath catching in her throat. Even still, she managed to keep herself from lashing out. His gruff voice was in her ear, and she cringed away slightly. Son of a bitch. Her arms shook, her mind raced. Brelan was likely too far off to hear her, even if she did scream out. She would be surprised if there were guards left in the vicinity to help. She didn't even have her own knives on her, the items left stashed in the drawer of her dresser. Her stomach dropped as she suddenly felt terrifyingly alone. But now was not the time to freeze and cry. She had to act.

What felt like minutes must have been seconds before she reacted. Acting on instinct, one arm struck out behind her with her elbow, using her full force to jab towards his rib cage. In the same motion her opposite hand reached for the hand that held her, grabbing the wrist and twisting at the same moment her elbow made contact. Both actions did little harm past the gear he'd adorned, but it still gave her the distraction she needed for just the smallest amount of room to slip from his hand. Without hesitation, or even the curiosity to look back at her attacker, she began to sprint down the hallway.

"Brelan!" she shrieked as she ran, regardless of its usefulness, hoping for anyone to even know her whereabouts. It didn't help that she'd been wearing the Gods-forsaken dress her father had insisted upon. She had few precious seconds to think. Her eyes searched wildly for anything of use. If she could just get a weapon in her hand...

[Assistant]
Gareth felt the elbow aimed to his chest, and the hand that grabbed his wrist. There was no harm done, being that she was unarmed and he was in full leather gear (he had left his plate back at his makeshift camp.) However, it did surprise him. He was expecting a scream, or even a fight, and was prepared to knock her out with the pommel of his sword if she resisted, but what he didn't expect was for her to be so damned fast!

"Ugh, pain in my-" he cut himself off as he wheeled around, giving chase to her fleeing form. He could outrun her, he was confident, but she was raising quite a ruckus. There was only so far she could get in the palace before somebody heard her. Gareth needed to be fast. Luckily, he was as quick to think as he was on his feet. He'd brought a belt of small knives, just four of them strapped to his waist. He would need to be careful, but if he could aim his shots just right... while he was running, no less...

His first throw sailed wide over her head. He would be surprised if she even noticed it, it was so poor a miss. But the second and third were much closer. The second throw had embedded itself slightly within one of the stone pillars that were spread through the hallway; the third knife landed right where he wanted, where the hem of her formal dress touched the floor. It wouldn't be a firm anchor by any means, but it might throw her off balance and slow her flight. He kept his fourth knife on his person just in case, but at least one of the knives had done their proper job. and if the princess was fearful at all of warning shots, she might even stop running entirely.

Well, maybe that last bit is too much to hope for.

The time for negotiations was probably past, so after he had confirmed the last hit, Gareth unsheathed his sword, and old and weathered affair, while closing the distance between himself and the princess. If she wouldn't bend to reason, she would have to bend to steel. And if she continued making noise, he would have to resort to unfortunate measures.

[User]
She wasn't sure she had seen the first blade correctly until the second embedded itself mere inches from her, into one of the stone pillars. Whether he was missing on purpose or just an incredibly horrible shot, he was throwing his weapons with purpose. She flinched instinctively as she ran, hoping he wouldn't have many of the blades left. He didn't seem to want her dead, or she would have been long before she would have had the chance to fight back. No, he was here for something else. She pushed the thought away as she ran.

Suddenly the dress she loathed so deeply caught behind her. Though the light fabric tore with the weight of her forward movement, the hiccup in her momentum still left her stumbling to the ground. She gasped painfully as her side hit the smooth stone with a resounding thud, pain spreading through her side. Giving herself the smallest moment of hesitation, she rolled onto her back, heart dropping with how close her pursuer still was. Scrambling forward, she made to grab for the blade he'd thrown, before a familiar voice rang through the hall.

"Myna!" Brelan's voice called out, still dishearteningly far from her. She could hear the panic in his voice.

Namyna opened her mouth to call out to him before the sudden flash of steel entered her vision. Her assailant was even more armed than she had realized, the large blade held threateningly in his grip. The princess faltered. Not for the threat of her own safety, for she would have gladly continued to struggle with a blade now within reach. But she had made a terrible mistake. Brelan would be upon them in a matter of minutes even if she remained silent, and she would bet more than her fair share of her father's wealth that he had not grabbed his own weapons in the short time he'd been gone. Her attacker didn't seem to want her dead just yet, but how concerned would he be with others?

Brelan's voice seemed to get closer, a fact that would not have escaped the man standing above her. Acting quickly, Namyna pushed herself away from her attacker's blade, her eyes piercing into him with as much deadly hate as she could muster. "Leave him be," she snarled beneath her breath.

[Assistant]
Nothing was ever easy, was it?

The prince's voice echoed down the hallway as Gareth's target stumbled to the ground. If he were an assassin, it would be time to flee already. These were the first pair of unwanted eyes to catch sight of him tonight, and already it was one pair too many. He could escape now before the other man got too close, but keeping his identity a secret was not the priority here. What was a priority was the girl, and fortunately for him, it seemed like she might have unwittingly revealed an achilles heel. As she bared her teeth to him, she may as well have been baring her neck at the same time. What was important was not that he get in and out unseen. The only important thing was that he was to leave with the girl. And if she cared what happened to her brother, she wouldn't leave the two men alone.

After he finished his quick analysis, Gareth placed his second hand on his sword in a fighting stance. He waited for the prince to draw closer before speaking again.

"Welcome, Prince Brelan, to our little quarrel. I'm not a man for words, so I'll keep this short. Unless you've brought your whole army with you, there's only two people walking out of this room tonight. I'll let the two of you decide who's leaving with me. Whoever's left behind gets gagged and tied to a post. Or killed, for all I care." Gareth shrugged casually. "It's up to you. But now that you're here, if you try to run... well, just don't try to run, alright? Make good life choices."

Gareth's expression might as well have been carved from marble, his gaze remained measured and fixed on the two siblings. Saying he would kill either of them... well, it was a bluff, but one that should be impossible to discern from their position. It was true, however, that he was ready to spring back into chase if either of the two attempted to flee and call for backup. This wasn't like before, he wouldn't be caught off guard again.


[System]
Age: 17

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Other Important Characters

Name: Henry

Age: 14

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

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

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

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

[User]
"Useless? I do have qualities aside from magic, you know." Ghent slipped his backpack off of his shoulders, taking this chance to retrieve the dark gray hoodie he'd packed. On the back, there was a large, faded emblem of a skull, hardly visible after so much wear. No use risking a cold the day of venturing into Wonderland.
 "I can be stealthy, I'm quick on my feet, and -- I know I don't look it -- but I'm strong, too. Bet I could pick up you and Drust without breaking a sweat." Ghent figured he'd get away with these claims; he was almost certain Elayra wouldn't want him to prove it.
 "Plus, I'm handling all of this pretty darn well. If you pulled someone off the street and told them everything you've told me...they'd either think you were crazy, or they'd have a mental breakdown. The way I see it, you lucked out," he started to put the hoodie on, words muffled until he found where to put his arms and head. "You guys need stability," he put emphasis on the word as if were the master of the meaning. "Someone with a good head on their shoulders. I'm the perfect member for your little team."
 With the world visible once again, Ghent saw one big difference. Elayra's smirk had vanished, replaced with a troubled frown.
 "If you've damaged this…"
 Uh oh. "Oh, come on...cut me some slack! It's not actually broken, is it?"
 Ghent peered over her shoulder, surveying the bow for himself. The mark was impossible to miss, but thankfully Elayra didn't seem overly concerned about the cosmetics of the bow, only the functionally.
 "Guess I should work on my aim," he laughed nervously, understanding that he'd avoided two deadly encounters. Hitting Elayra may have killed her, while hitting her bow may have resulted in his death.
 Ghent hadn't heard the word used to summon the rain shield, but he wasn't sure he wanted to try casting a spell so soon after the bolts-shooting-everywhere incident. Using a hand to pull up his hood, he was well prepared to face the rain, though the shimmer of the shield caught his eye. To his surprise, the shield was about twice the size as before. Ghent couldn't tell if this was a friendly gesture or not, so he hung back a few paces until Elayra announced it was time to leave.
 "Uh...right! Coming." Distracted by the shield, Ghent tripped over one of the tables, regaining his footing just in time to fall into step alongside of her. "I think some of the magic moved the tables around." Ghent would rather give a lame excuse rather than to give no excuse at all. He had just started to get on Elayra's good side, he didn't want to lose his progress by being a klutz.
 "What is a 'java,' anyway?"
 Elayra's question offered a chance to change the subject, plus it was easy to answer.
 "Java's just a fancy way to say coffee. It's an overpriced drink that girls your age go crazy over." While he talked, Ghent busied himself with readjusting the left strap of his backpack. "It's alright, I guess...it's either too bitter, or sickeningly sweet."
 Curious as to how she'd known about java, Ghent studied her face, wondering who had taught her to read in the first place. Drust didn't seem like he had the patience to teach reading as well as magic and combat.
 "Why? You want some?"

[Assistant]
Elayra rolled her eyes at Ghent's claims of his abilities, none of which he had demonstrated thus far, and laughed at the concept of him adding a sense of "stability."
 Wonderland's going to eat him alive, she thought with a snort.
 She frowned and gave a displeased shake of her head when, despite his earlier claims, he tripped over one of the legs of a table.
 "You forgot to add 'poised' to your list," she taunted, her smirk returning.
 She gave yet another roll of her eyes at Ghent's excuse for tripping.
 "Pretty sure they're in the same places," she said condescendingly as, at last, he joined her, and the two of them headed back out to the street. With the shield above them, only a few stray raindrops splattered against them, most blown by the gentle breeze that occasionally wove its way through the park.
 When he answered her question, she nodded in recognition of coffee. "It's not the easiest thing to find anymore, but we have coffee in Wonderland. It even has a similar description. Don't make it quite right, and it can pack one heck of a punch."
 Elayra returned his stare with an irate, questioning sideways look, her brows twitching upward.
 "Why? You want some?"
 She snorted. "No, you featherless dodo. Like I said, the portal's by a place called 'Hava Java.' I was merely curious."
 Elayra stopped as they reached where the park's road met a larger street, the shield hovering above them stopping with her. Her back stiffened, and her hand went to the quiver of arrows, ready to pull one out as she glanced down either side of the new, open road, her fingers gently brushing the blue fletching. A car sped by on the opposite side of the street, sending a spray of water up around it from the stream of rainwater flowing beside the curb.
 "Which way?" she asked Ghent, looking to him once the car had passed, the driver hidden behind tinted windows.


[System]
Age: Twenties
Short Bio: Originally born somewhere in Haiti as "Tallulah Black", Vivienne was born to a poor English mother, before she was abducted by slave traders, and forced into servitude under a retired-pirate named Albinus. After countless suffering, Vivienne finally shot him in self-defense, and escaped to New Providence, where she became a very intelligent con-artist, posing as a tavern prostitute, and stealing high-valued items from its customers. Eventually becoming a full-time buccaneer, hiring a crew that consisted John Silver as quartermaster, Vivienne went on many conquests and cunning crusades on her ship "Red Rose" to collect many different treasures and artifacts, becoming the first notorious female pirate to ever arise in the Caribbean. Since the discovery of Salazar's treasure, her personality started to change for the worst.

~ ~ ~

Name: John Silver
Age: Late Twenties
Short Bio: Also known as 'Long' John Silver, due to his claim of having a "long memory", charming con-man John is a walking-mystery to all. With a past most-unknown, and skills rivaling that of Vivienne Black, he originally insinuated himself into the crew of Captain James Flint, after their attack on a merchant ship John was upon. While visiting the brothel, John receives an offer he just couldn't refuse, after he found himself seduced by the 'beauty-of-the-sea': He willingly dived into opportunities, after becoming quartermaster to the crew of Vivienne's Black 'Red Rose'. Some speculate that it's just about looking out for number one, but others speculate that bonds and ties may have made him a bit too staunch...especially when it involves the Lord's daughter.

[User]
At first, both of her captors ignored her; one of them letting go of her, and walking towards the prison cell. "Well, well, well", he mused, having to chuckle at the irony. "Look at what we have here. If it isn't Vivienne Black. Excuse me, Captain Vivienne Black", it was as if he was mocking, or being skeptical of her, finding her position in life to be rather pitiful; pathetic. If only he knew about the about of success the said-woman had achieved. "What's ye interest in the lass?", he, once again, mocked; the other pirate chuckling with him, though his grip on Abigail's arm did not loosen. Just as the girl was about to reach for the medallion, he tightened his grip, before stopping her with a backhand to her face, and yanking the chain off her neck. It dug into her skin slightly, before giving in, breaking. The other pirate, who approached the imprisoned woman, had his smile fade. "Want the gold piece for ye' self?"

Vivienne's own smile faded, as soon as intruder did. Just a frown, once she noticed, and heard, the sound of a slap coming from behind him. Did the girl's new captor just hit her? The pirate lass' gaze only stared at the tall, masculine, and nearly beefy visitor before her; the bars of her cell separating herself and them, the faint smile making itself known again. "My interest?", the brunette asked him rhetorically. "That girl?", she gestured to the direction where Abigail was held. "The gold?", she narrowed her eyes at him. It was like a up-close encounter with this guy. She then suddenly snatched the front of his shirt, and pulled; so fast and strong, his face hit the steel bars between them. "Watch yourself. You tell Captain Low we'll see him soon", she warned him menacingly before finally letting her grip fall from his shirt.

The pirate scowled and brushed himself off. "Yeah", he laughed, but there was also a slight hint of intimidation. Not for the crew, but for him personally. His Captain was one of the best around. But, that didn't mean, personally, he was free. A pirate made many stops, and if someone was out to get you, they could do it away from your crew. He brushed it aside, trying to convince himself that the woman was just in that state of madness, like any other captain, who would sail for too long. "You ain't goin' anywhere but the gallows", he replied, pretending to tip a hat. "Pleasant dreams. Give me regards to Davy Jones", he laughed and turned away. "We got ourselves quite a lady here. Should be interesting. You'll enjoy our Cap'n. He's always been wantin' a bit of sport", that wicked smirk was back, before they pulled Abigail towards the stairs, along with the gold coin.

Vivienne narrowed her eyes once again, before that smile of hers made itself known. But once she made a final glance at Abigail, it made her lose the act of carelessness. Captain Ned Low now had the New World's most expensive of riches; not to mention a person of an even higher class upon his vessel. She needed to get to that coin before Low attempts to sell it for something twice as valuable. But first things first, she needed to find a way out of this bloody cell. It was going to be nearly dawn, and the longer she sat in there, Vivienne was up to the point of passing out in sleep upon the floor.

[Assistant]
The slap was hard and nothing held back. Cheek burning, Abigail blinked back tears. He slapped her. Without thought, without so much of a reply. Her confidence wavered a bit. Now, this was what a pirate was. Not the romanticized version she and Elizabeth had fantasized about. No, this was the dark, dangerous kind that she had been warned about. The type that had no issues hitting a woman, let alone hurting her. Her heart rate picked up slightly and Abigail felt fear. She had never felt the intensity before. But then again, she never had the need to. Even when she had almost died she hadn't felt this kind of fear. But then again, that had happened quickly. And there was something about the fear of drowning - which was intense - and the terror knowing that you were held by men who would do unspeakable things to you and then kill you. And if they didn't kill you, the horrors done might as well be death.

Still, she did her best to at least look strong. Face slightly pale, her neck hurt where the necklace had been ripped off, she kept her posture. She didn't speak but she did her best to mentally put as much anger and fire into her eyes as possible. She would not show fear. Not give them the satisfaction that she was terrified. If she was going to be taken, she would do so with dignity and fire. Her chin lifted again, even as the stinging of her cheek was still evident.

"My father will personally ensure your deaths," she said calmly, coldly. "And believe me, it won't be pleasant." Even as they half carried, half dragged her up the stairs, she did her best to remain confident. Despite every step they took was one closer to possible death. The likelihood of getting out of this was slim.

Her gaze drifted over to Vivianne. She couldn't read the expression on the woman's face due to the distance and lighting. Interesting really. She still felt a bit sad for the woman. She was still a prisoner and to be executed. Despite, her own possible future, Abigail still wished she had been able to do something for Vivienne. Though, she couldn't now. And honestly, she really had more to worry about. But...it did help. Thinking of Vivienne saving her life just made her more determined to survive this.

[User]
The two pirates forcibly put Abigail into a rowboat, and began to row out towards the attacking pirate vessel, sitting out in the open. Explosions continued to sound all around them. And for one moment, a shell nearly hit them, as it screamed overhead. One of her captors kept a tight grip upon her arm the entire trip, while his other hand held the pirate coin, also gripped tightly.

Amid the thunder of cannon fire that surrounded the Fancy, stood an imposing, silhouetted figure by the wheel, too far from where Abigail was firstly deployed, but watched the scene nonetheless. A nonchalant, emotionless stare was all he gave, as he just stood there with a sword at his waist. At the mention of his title, this figure strode in a cool-minded manner towards the stairs, his boots thumping against the wood. A cloud of cannon smoke obscured him for a moment, but as soon as he made it to the deck, his full presence became known: wearing the darkest of colors, but nothing imposing; just a simple dark t-shirt, a dark jacket, and a pair of dark pants, along with the heavy boots that left an echo in the wood at every step, his hair was short, medium-brown, wavy, and just above his shoulders, with a stubble that perfectly angled his lower jaw.

The real element was his scarred, pale right-eye; he was possibly half-blind, with the other appearing perfectly in a normal blue, but he did give off a good penetrating stare with both on his person. He wasn't that tall, being at five-foot eight, nor too strong with an evident slim, athletic physique, which gave off that quality of being easily deceiving. That showed that he was a man you'd fear in a dark alley. The darkness and shadow surrounding the deck proved that right. The right hand resting upon the sword at his waist, armed with a pistol and a dagger, he was before his crew, standing only a few feet away from the newcomer. This was Captain Edward Low, the man behind this nightly massacre.

"Cap'n. Look what we found. She also had this", the pirate finally released her...by pushing her forward, and making her land in a heap at the man's feet, shortly before handing over the coin to him. Low didn't speak a word, he just listened. Listening, and observing the situation; his unconcerned gaze never leaving, even as he was passed the trinket by one of his men. He still didn't speak, just fiddled with the object in his hand, his attention now resting on the girl, who just got deposed of at his feet. It was like he was in a moment of processing the information being passed down to him, while still fiddling with the metal, almost outlining its design.

In just short notice, the captain finally stopped this action, now having his full attention on the girl, to the point of kneeling down to one knee, towering over her. "My apologies, miss", he finally said after a long while, sounding Irish by his accent. The tone wasn't exactly sympathetic, but rather shallow. Casual with monotone. "I confess, they lack manners. Especially with a damsel", it didn't sound deep, but in the normal range of lacking emotion.

[Assistant]
The explosions rocked the town, even as Abigail found herself dragged to a rowboat. She glared at her captors as she did her best to retain her dignity and pride. In the boat she held her head high, keeping the fear of what was to come as well as the fear of getting killed in the raging fight, from her face. She was surprised that the fight was still going on. The pirates must have come fairly prepared though even with the surprise attack they had to be stupid. One didn't attack a British fort with just one ship. Especially one this. Even with the surprise attack, Port Royale was a pretty strong defensive place and as the garrison quickly responded, they would push the pirates out.

Part of this was evident in the town. From where she could see, Abigail noted that the other rowboats were pulling away from the town even as British regulars came down from the garrison slowly regaining control. Shame it had taken them too long. If she survived this, she'd probably have to give them some points on how improving their response time. IF she survived.

The thought brought a chill down her spine. Her best bet was to hope they would ransom her. She was a high valued target and that might convince them to try and ransom her back to her father. Of course, he, in turn, would undoubtedly pay but then hunt them down, wiping every last one of them out. Abigail was no fool. She loved her father and knew he loved her, but her love wasn't completely deaf to the knowledge that he was very strict and one didn't oppose him. She could get away with a few things because she was his only child. And despite being a girl - which usually was a paux for an only child - she knew she just had to smile at him, maybe bat her lashes a little and he'd usually give in. Not that she played that card well. It didn't always work - just once in a while.

Being pulled onto the ship and then tossed at the feet of what was evident to be the captain, Abigail quickly pulled herself up to at least a seated position. Her chin lifted as she stared up coldly at the man. She couldn't hide her surprise at his politeness though it quickly became evident that there was really no emotion behind it. Which in turn made him far more dangerous in some regards.

"I concur, their manners do need to be checked. But I can easily dismiss this," she paused and looked around her before looking back at the captain, "misunderstanding if you kindly provide me a rowboat back to town."

She doubted it would work but if he was going to pretend to be honorable she was going to push him on it.


[System]
Gender: Male

Appearance:
Age: 15

Hometown: Dracotia Village (But is currently traveling.)

Starter/Partner:
Greed

Ability: Levitate
Type: Ghost/Poison
Moveset: Psychic,Hypnosis,Dream Eater,Shadow Ball
Other Pokemon:
Skyline

Ability: Inner Focus
Type: Dragon/Flying
Moveset: Fly,Fire Punch,Dragon Pulse,Hyper Beam
Betrayed

Ability: Intimidate
Type: Dark
Moveset: Poison Fang,Ice Fang,Thunder Fang,Foul Play
Titan

Ability: Guts
Type: Bug/Fighting
Moveset: Take Down,Pin Missile,Megahorn,Aerial Ace
Personality: Very eager to fight and also to play, loves getting into mischief and playing practical jokes. Usually on adults, with his pokemon. (who are all very similar to him.) He's very social and friendly enough toward anyone else his age though sometimes he speaks very sarcastically. But is quite scornful and cold toward other adults. He is very impulsive in most of his decisions and highly emotional, ready to laugh out loud when he is enjoying himself and scream when he is upset. He can be quite aggressive in his words and his actions often times not thinking things though. Often encouraged by his gengar, who speaks telepathically to him. He doesn't consider anything he does as wrong, just seeing it is having his harmless fun. Doesn't bully anyone younger than him. He often stands up for anyone he sees getting bullied and has a sense of justice, highly against pokemon thieves like Royal Skies.

Goal: His only real goal is to have his fun, in any way he sees fit.

Keystone: Mega Charm (carries it around in jacket pocket.)

Legendary Guardian: No (I guess not.)

[User]
Pent Shinon the Lucario, Aenir the Froslass, Jill the Skarmory
[Route 701 - Pokémon Center]

Keldeo@Light Lord
At the callout, Pent's face turned a deep shade of red. Despite the clearly joking tone, the Kalosian still felt bad for staring. "....My most sincere apologies, I'm usually not quite that rude..." With his gaze falling back to the unique Pokémon, the man continued, "...A Shaymin? How very fascinating. I've heard of it before, but I unfortunately know very little. You're partners, though? How wonderful. Are those other Pokémon yours as well?"

Shinon had been observing the Shaymin too. He had never seen nor heard of it before, though he knew it was unlike any other Pokémon. It emanated a powerful, courageous aura.

The Lucario's focus changed when the two Trainers mentioned him. A smile crossed Pent's features as he responded for his partner, "Oh...? Well you're both more than welcome to come over and say hello. And your... chat?" Noting that Brent had finished eating, he continued, "Certainly. Would you like to ah... sit over here? There's certainly room. If not, we'll be done soon." With those words said, he continued eating.

After sitting quietly, Shinon spoke up to the other Trainers' Pokémon. <Shaymin... you've just recently met the girl, then?>

[Assistant]
Keldeo@Ninian
Devon
[Route 701 Pokémon Center]

Devon was quietly poking at his tray of pancakes as Pent conversed with the other table, the teen looked over at the two younger Trainers for a few seconds before he gasped. The fork nosily dropping of his hand and clanging against his plate. His brown eyes locked on the Mythical Pokémon that was with the newcomers. "Whoa! No way! It IS a Shaymin! That's the Pokémon that brought all the flowers to Floaroma Town! How did you guys FIND one of them!?"

The now curious teen added on to Pent's offer of a seat at their table, and pointed to the empty bench across from himself with a grin. "Defiantly man! I've never seen a Shaymin for real before! And, you both got Professor Elm's starters over there too. Chikorita and Cyndaquil. You both from Johto? What's your names?"


[System]
Age: 36
Physical Description:

Jehenne is a beautiful brunette with fair skin, sharp, large features, and dark eyes. She stands at just under six feet and has a slender, elegant body type.

Important items: An expensive necklace her older brother gave her. Most likely taken from her.

Short Bio: Jehenne spent most of her life in her older brother's shadow. Rodrick was a proud, arrogant fool, and one of the only people Jehenne truly cared for. His honesty and earnest nature contrasted so much so with her quiet, calculating, and cynical one. They made quite the team, and Jehenne offered the favorite sibling advice. In many ways, if he was successful, she was successful. Parents were a non-issue for Jehenne, they were old, boring, and unambitious. It was a miracle that they raised such interesting children, in her mind. Jehenne lived a pampered, well educated life, and certainly partook in the methods of slavery as well. Benefits of the silver spoon, she supposed. Rodrick was a better person than she, and he always seemed a bit uncomfortable with the flippant way she treated her fellow man, but without even realizing she always deftly maneuvered out of the topic if he ever started to bring it up.

Eventually, his earnest ways took him too far, and he was killed in battle rebelling against who he viewed as a tyrant. Jehenne was broken and saddened by this loss, and the world seemed darker without him. Sometimes, it felt like without him, she was the only real person left...sometimes. Nonetheless, next in line to the throne, Jehenne would be made an example of. Sold into slavery in the city of Venedig, as a househould servant, and potentially other, darker things. A taste of her own bitter medicine, though she certainly hasn't seen it as such. What has been done to her is an abomination and injustice, and escape will be hers, if not vengeance.

Starting Faction: The ex-noble slaves
Spell List:

Suggestion: A spell of Mind Magic origin, Jehenne can use this ability to manipulate the emotions of a single or multiple targets. The more targets there are, the more split her power becomes, and the less effective it is. She can use this to calm, persaude, or manipulate, giving her already silver tongue a sharp, magical edge.

Minor healing: From the school of Change, Jehenne can draw upon the ability to heal minor wounds and calm major wounds. She can also reverse aging, which she does on occasion for herself, and she used to do it on her brother. She's not a vain person...but, well, maybe a little. Nothing wrong with learning to give herself and others a little extra elegance in age?

Exceptional Skill List:

Exceptional Diplomacy x2: Diplomacy was Jehenne's role as a noblewoman. As such, she has a refined skill of telling people what they want to hear, or don't want to hear, in order to get what she wants. Most people are like puzzles to be figured out. Once you know what to say, one could play them like an instrument.

Exceptional Lying: Jehenne is an excellent liar. Using her words alone, one would never be able to tell she wasn't telling the truth. Evidence and catching her out on contradictions is the only way, and she is very good at making sure that doesn't happen.

Exceptional Investigation: Jehenne can finds things. Whether it be people, contacts, or objects. It's hard to hide things from her.

[User]
Mergoux glared down at the girl, then turned on the Mercs. "Leave her be." she said.

And with that, the Warrior walked away, vanishing into the crowds, ne'er to be seen again.

[Assistant]
Tamlorn Winter-Rose

---

Jehenne's eyes caught Tam, like a memory. Up close, it seemed she hadn't changed. Her hair, those eyes, the sculpt of her shoulder...

Then she spoke, and ice had touched inside his chest. The spell broke. The breath he had not realised he'd been holding escaped. He blinked. Then his eyes flitted away, to the floating staff, the ground, his feet, anything else. Remorse stabbed its thin fingers into his heart and began tugging it downwards. Reluctantly, his face rose again to meet hers. There she stood swaddled in a motley of emotions and simple clothes, all beneath the dread-coloured patina that was fear.

He dredged words from murk of his mind, "I'm sorry," he spoke lamely, his words clipped, his mouth twitched. He kept watching her, "For everything."

Blessedly, Rote caught his attention. The man was a mystery, appearing at once mad yet also in possession of all his faculties. It was not clear whether his mannerisms were born of delusion or his noble upbringing. Perhaps both.

He followed them to the canal. He knew not what else he could do, seemingly trapped within the thoughts of his own mind, memories, words forming and reforming in a hundred iterations of a sentence and coming no closer to what he wanted to say.

The damp smells of flotsam and refuse clung inside his nose.

Danger sharpened his mind like a stone knapping flint. A wandering mind was a dangerous thing; now he stared down a dozen barrels of a dozen men. He recognised some of the faces, once fellow knights. Victory was a slim possibility, yet Tamlorn gripped his weapon, ready.

But, conflict was avoided. He bobbed his head at the Inquisitor, a small smile playing across his lips, "And house Winter-Rose will not forget." He stepped onto the boat, equal parts curious and concerned of Jehenne's fate. He was not sure he could leave even if he wanted to.

It was not until the black scar upon the cityscape, the Cathedral, reached up before them as if defying the heavens, that Tam spoke once more. Jehenne had pointendly ignored him the entire journey, so Tam had stewed in his own thoughts.

"Does the Church want anything with them?" Tam asked the Inquisitor, "Beyond their freedom?"

[User]
City: ???
Location: Black Cathedral - Entrance

BGM: Melody of Water

The carriage soon reached the outskirts of the Black Cathedral, an edifice one could call the Church of Inquisition's "base of operations". Ominous as it was, this was the goal behind Libero and Carmilla's plan. Away from Venedig's corrupt ideals, they would hide Noel from the corruption of the slave market and trade. "We're arriving at the destination." The butler spoke from the outside. Noel opened the curtains, curious as how they had arrived at somewhere supposedly five days away from Venedig in such a short time like three and a half hours of travel. When he opened it, he saw the cathedral and was immediately brought in shock. "T-That's... the Black Cathedral. Big brother, weren't we supposed to be going to the Reich's capital as Father ordered?" He asked. "There is no way I would hand you over to the emperor. This isn't what either me or Mom would want for you, Noel. We don't need another slave trader in our home." Libero explained. "Then... your plan was for you to take me here to the Cathedral? To the enemies of Venedig and the whole Iron Decree?" Noel asked. "Yes. From here, you'll be able to learn the opposite of what Dad has been wishing. You'll be able to pursue the dream you always wanted, Noel. The dream of making an institute for magic research, learning and control for all people." Libero spoke, happy.

It's true... Noel's wish was to create an institute academy where people could research, learn and control magic. An organization not solely for the nobles of the Reich, but for all who wished to learn it. It may be an utopic dream, but it was Noel's dream. "Libero, I... I don't know what to say... but if Father finds out, then you'll be-" Noel spoke, speechless and worried about Libero. "Don't worry about me. I did this knowing of all risks. I'd rather be dead but with a clean conscience that you are safe than alive regretting that you became another of us." Libero said. Still, this worried Noel. However, he had no arguments to tackle his brother back. Soon, the carriage stopped. "My lords, we have arrived at the Black Cathedral!" The butler spoke.

Noel and Libero left the carriage inside and were now at the entrance. The river seemed to flow underneath it, as if it was a secret entrance. In the distance, Noel saw a bot coming their way. "Look, there's a boat with people coming our way!" He pointed it out. "My contact has arrived. Let's wait a little bit before getting inside." Libero spoke.

[Assistant]
City Event - Mostly for the Main Party

Mergoux, Rote, Jehenne, Tamlorn and Noel

"That we have, Milady Alcroft," Rote said to Jehenne as the Gondola docked at a side entrance of the Black Cathedral. His face was solemn, solemn and sad. "I'm sorry about all this tragedy - I wasn't lying or deluded when I said what I said on the slave market about its cause, but I wasn't expecting to have additional proof so early. Assuming that our good Inquisitor here has additional proof, of course."

Inquisitor Malamocco looked at Rote and said, "Not now. Inside the building first. Although if you want small talk with the Alcroft woman, you should do that - It seems you don't know how to talk to women or what to talk to them about."

Then turning to Tamlorn, the Inquisitor said, "Haven't you been listening to Rote's words? We're on the brink of the greatest crisis since Wolfram's Cataclysm! Whoever won the Nobles' Rebellion, Noble or Crown, was going to play into the hands of the enemies of civilization itself! Now no more delays, we have to go in!" Inquisitor Malamocco frowned deeper, and then entered the building, muttering about, "These young folk nowadays..."

Once inside the Black Cathedral, Inquisitor Malamocco continued, "The Nobles' Rebellion was instigated by the Cult of the Keeper, who wanted to return the Old Gods back to Erde. The Cult also had agents in the Royal Court in Kaisersdat, whose job was to ensure that if the Crown won, it would come down hard on the rebels. As I said, whoever won, Noble or Crown, was going to play into the hands of those who want to destroy civilization - Only by bringing Humanity down to the level of savages can the Old Gods expect regular worship once more."

A pause as the Inquisitor waved to the just-arrived Libero and Noel accompanying them, before he continued, "If the Nobles won, the Reich would have fallen apart. If the Crown won, all that was needed was to provoke the Emperor into overreaching with the Iron Decree, thus compromising the credibility of the Crown and the Reich as a whole. Either way, the sense of security of everyone in the Western Continent would be impacted in some form. Do you people get where I am going with this?"

"I do," Rote said as he noticed Noel and Libero's presence. "Now, give me a break from business to meet with an old friend, please." And with that, he ran up to where Noel was, tackle-hugging, the young man and saying "NOEL! I'm so happy to see you! Heck, the only thing that'd make it better is if I had an excuse to be naked -"

Inquisitor Malamocco rolled his eyes and cleared his throat. "Young men nowadays." He then looked at Libero and said, "Greetings, Fragach scion. Your actions have brought the approval of the good aspects of Existence today." A frown as he continued, "Here is something that might stay your father's anger - We have the identity of the Cult of the Keeper's agent in Kaisersdat. As I said, the Cult of the Keeper is a group trying to bring down civilization as we know it so that the Old Gods can be worshipped due to everyone forgetting they are mere mortals with great magical power."

The Inquisitor smiled, "Her name is Katherine Sophia Gotha, and she is the one who planted the idea for the Iron Decree in our sovereign's brain."

Louise

N/A for now, waiting for Smike.

@Stern Algorithm@Overlord Thraka@Aqutanama@Rune_Alchemist@Zoey White@Landaus Five-One@Solaris@jdh97@MagusDream:


[System]
Age: 18

Gender: Female

Appearance
Kim has long, straight black hair, which she usually keeps tied back in braids or a ponytail. Her russet eyes are usually hidden behind glasses, which she switches out often because she frequently breaks them. At 5'3", she's shorter than average; she also weighs more than average, although most of her 130lbs is muscle, not fat. Kim is unattractive and she knows it - she's built like a gruff dwarf rather than a willowy elf, and she has thick eyebrows, freckles, and thin lips, none of which contribute to her attractiveness. However, she's long since come to terms with his less-than-average looks, and she doesn't let them bother her.

Personality
Kim is blunt, cold, and stubborn, but not a bad person at heart. She enjoys freedom and self-sufficiency, and has a fiercely independent streak. Although she can work in a group if she must, she hates being forced to rely on others. She readily cooperates with reasonable authority figures, but she won't blindly follow orders, and she doesn't hesitate to break rules if she has what she sees as a good reason. Kim doesn't hesitate to say what she's thinking even if may offend listeners, and her utter lack of tact has earned her the ire of peers and professors alike. Nonetheless, she is able to befriend people who can appreciate, or at least tolerate, her frank nature, and know to give her the space that she needs. She doesn't make friends easily, but she is extremely loyal to the ones she does have. Kim always looks out for herself and the people she cares about first - they're what she values most. At times, Kim can be rather cynical and pessimistic, but she won't give up even if she doesn't expect a good outcome. She's also quite hardworking and efficient, putting effort into everything she does.

History
Kim grew up as an only child in an upper-middle class family. Her father was a successful businessman and her mother was a dissatisfied housewife. When she was younger, she frequently rebelled against her well-intentioned but overbearing mother; in recent years, she's calmed down and matured enough to understand her mother's point of view, and their relationship has improved immensely as a result. Her father is disappointed that his daughter doesn't have more ambition, but he tries to hide his disappointment, and Kim pretends not to notice.

In her childhood, she'd dreamed of becoming an Olympic gymnast, and she almost made it to the junior national team. However, as time went on, it became obvious that she was good, but not quite good enough. No matter how much she practiced, she just didn't have the natural talent of the other girls on her team, and she eventually quit. Her parents were disappointed in her performance, and she retained feelings of inadequacy for many years. Eventually, she forced herself to move on and not let those feelings weigh her down. Later, she took up parkour and freerunning as hobbies that she could apply her gymnastics background to, and she enjoys doing them on a casual basis with friends.

After she failed to achieve her dreams, Kim became more cynical and less ambitious than she had been before. She entered college planning to major in accounting in preparation for a future career as a self-employed accountant. Although she isn't passionate about them, Kim is fairly good at logical subjects like math and science, so accounting seemed like a reasonable career choice. Kim gave up on achieving excellence or success and told herself to be content with a stable income and the opportunity to pursue her hobbies in her spare time. She enjoys crafts and DIY projects because she likes to repair and create things for herself, and she does parkour and freerunning on her college campus.

Specializations

High (30): Agility
Kim may not have been able to make it to the Olympics, but she was still very good at gymnastics. Her continued practice of parkour and freerunning have further improved her physical fitness and given her new skills in this regard. For example, Kim is capable of maintaining her balance while running on a roof's edge, climbing walls, and doing backflips.

Medium (25): Determination
She's very stubborn and determined. No setback can keep her down for long - she'll keep trying if there's even the slightest chance of victory. Once she's chosen a goal, Kim focuses on it like a laser and puts forth all her effort.

Low (22): Intelligence
Kim has a good head for numbers, and does fairly well in school, earning A's and B's. She's not passionate about academics, but she recognizes that they're important, so she works hard in her classes.

Imperfections

High (10): Appearance
Her eyebrows are too thick, her lips are too thin, her height is too short, and her weight is too heavy. This bothered her a great deal in her preteen years, but she's stopped caring a long time ago.

Medium (15): Charisma
Kim isn't unsociable, but she does lack tact. She rarely stops to consider the effect her words will have before she says them, which results in offenses and upsets. She's also a bit too independent and stubborn for her own good. Nonetheless, she is capable of forming lasting friendships.

Low (18): Happiness
She's cynical and pessimistic. Although she isn't always unhappy, Kim does tend to have a negative outlook, which drives other people away and reduces her own emotional wellness.

Other
Because Kim likes to feel self-sufficient, she's learned to do things like troubleshoot computer problems and mend broken appliances for herself. She also took up carpentry during high school, and built herself a table that's only slightly wobbly.

[User]
It had to be like ten 'o' clock in the morning...or was it later? Evan didn't know and he didn't care. A yawn rolled out of his mouth as he rolled over on the couch in the living room of the apartment he shared with Devin, his roommate who was still in his room sleeping.

Thud!

Failing to pay close attention, mostly due to the confusion caused by his hangover, Evan rolled too far over and ended up falling on the floor. Shocked away, Evan looked up at the clock on the wall to see that he had slept well into the afternoon. Fortunately, he was off from his mediocre job today. He let out another yawn and planted himself back down onto the couch. The television sat in front of him turned off. How was going to spend his free day? Would he surf through channels, play a video game, or maybe he would go outside for a walk? Evan mulled over the possibilities before deciding to go for the walk. The weather outside wasn't all that bad. Maybe he would finally have some good luck and met the girl of his dreams.

Speaking of good luck, Evan felt the pocket of his shorts only to discover that something small was inside. Funny, he didn't remember putting anything there. Then again he didn't remember much from the night before at all. Curious to see what it was, he slid his hand into his pocket, grasped the object, and pulled it out. He held the die between two of his fingers and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah," he said as it suddenly came back to him.

It was odd, he found the die lying on the ground out back of the apartment complex by the dumpster when taking out the garbage yesterday. It wasn't everyday that one found a die so he picked up and took it for himself. Plus, which was even odder, Evan recalled that he felt as if the die wanted him to pick it up. Putting the die back into his pocket, Evan got dressed, left his apartment, and headed towards the nearby park. Upon arriving he sat down on a bench and looked at the mysterious die in his palm.

Just what am I going to do with this thing? Evan wondered.

He wasn't much of a gambler. There were a group of guys who often played dice games in the park. That wasn't Evan's cup of tea for they were all risk with little promise of reward. But, if his die was rigged, then maybe he could use it to turn the tables in his favor and score him some extra money. Of course it was highly unlikely that the die he randomly found on the ground was tricky in any kind of way. Yet, Evan knew there was something special about it. It couldn't be just luck that he found the die sitting near the dumpster. Or maybe it was just another person in his building's trash that fell out of their bag when they went to throw it away.

As the saying goes - one man's trash is another man's treasure.

And with that thought in mind Evan rolled the die across the ground in front of him.

[Assistant]
"HO-LY SHIT."

Mark couldn't believe it. He'd just blinked, and it was like he was looking at a different person. He rubbed at his face, pulled at his ears, just to be certain. He ran back into his room and grabbed his phone again, and saw that there was a new message. As he opened the home screen, he also noticed the new app. It seemed like, rather than a text response, he could have just used the app to assign points on his own. But the person replying had done so so quickly, and he was seeing these results in real time without any waiting period...

He sank down to the floor, slowly, his back against the wall. His head was spinning.

"There's no way this is possible. But it happened. So it's real." he said, still talking to himself. "But...implications...consequences..."

Though it probably went under "intelligence," in terms of stats, another thing Mark prided himself on was being a logical thinker. Even when writing his book--no, perhaps especially when writing, given that he wrote fiction--everything had to have an internal, consistent logic. If A, then B.

"Okay, so. Unknown entity, tied to this die. Rolling the die was the trigger...for this series of events, anyway." he began. He put his phone face down on the floor and tilted his head up at the ceiling. "Possibility that the entity is only active when die are rolled, points are used, and quests are given or completed. But also possible that the entity has been active all along, and for some reason has only just now begun to interact with me. If this is God's way of trying to make up for how shit my life's been, he waited an awful long time..."

He looked back down at his phone's back, and shook his head.

"No. Gods work on divine providence. Not luck and random events. Whatever you are, X, you're no god. If you were, I still wouldn't follow you."

He picked up the phone and turned it over.

"Alright, here's a question for you, assuming you're somehow aware of what's going on around me. You knew about my new goal, so I guess you can hear me. My life has suddenly become like a video game. By doing these quests I can change whatever I want about myself. Awesome. And entirely too good to be free." He looked once more at the status screen on the app. He saw stats, and quests, and skills...He did not see "equipment."

"Question one: I walk in tall grass. Do monsters, or some other enemies, attack me? Question two: I meet another person who is in this situation. Do we have to fight each other? Question three: By using the power of the die already, have I sold my eternal soul and/or years off my life, anything like that, to a demon or other malignant entity? I've got more, tons more, but I have a feeling you're gonna be a cryptic asshole about it. In the books and games, faceless figures behind supernatural games tend to be like that."

[User]
Niel Grace
Sweet, phone guy was cool. Still three month prepaid was a bit much for his current cash. He'd defiantly need a job. Did that count as a new motivation? Whatever. Niel quickly shopped for some cleaning stuff with some of his valuable cash and freshened up at a pool shower. Then he took his nice clothes out of the bag he carried his few possessions in. "Never though I'd need these." Niel muttered to himself as he got dressed. He was decently respectable now. Technically he didn't need to wear them until, and if, he got interviewed but it didn't hurt to make a good impression on anyone who was watching. It didn't take long for him to find somewhere that was hiring, some sort of burger place. He whipped out a pen and filled it out, slowly but surely, then submitted it. Hm, not much to do now. He could work on the friend quest. Technically he could send like a few bucks back home but, A) He would feel bad B) Trying to use loopholes probably wasn't a good idea. Some quests just took a while, he could afford to wait. After all it wasn't like he'd had any plans before this. Niel changed back into his street clothes, set up his music box, and set down his hat. Preforming was his best skill, it'd be a shame not to use it right. Maybe he could make friends with one the people that came to watch.

[Assistant]
Kim wasn't enthused by X's response, but she hadn't been expecting anything different. She still didn't trust X, given that he/she/they/it was a mysterious being with unknown motivations and powers, but X didn't seem openly malevolent. Even if they were, their dice had incredible potential. Kim thought about all the things she'd told herself to accept, to give up on, because no amount of determination could change them. No matter what she did, she was biologically short - nothing she did could change her DNA. Even though she practiced more hours than anyone else, all her hard work had been useless in the face of other gymnasts' pure talent. Ultimately, most people lived mundane lives, achieving neither wealth or fame, making no mark on the world, and Kim was most people. She had forced herself to believe that it didn't matter that she was short and ugly, that she should give up on being a gymnast, and that she could be content with an boring, unspectacular existence. Perhaps that had even been true before, but now that she had the dice, Kim knew that she would never give up on herself. She had the power to be whoever she wished and do whatever she wanted, and she would grab it with both hands.

She opened up her phone and looked at the Quests tab again. Kim had thought that her interest in gymnastics was dead and gone, but attending one more competition wouldn't hurt. Maybe it would even reignite her passion; it wasn't too late to try again. If she remembered correctly, there was a regional-level competition going on at the gymnastics center across town. It was casual enough that anyone could just walk in and register without being part of a pre-approved team; that was good, since she only had a week to prepare. Kim headed out and took the bus over to the center, mentally preparing her training regime.

After she disembarked at the closest bus stop to the training center, Kim noticed a street performer with a music box. Normally, she wouldn't have stopped, but this young man was especially talented. She checked her watch - it was still early enough that the gymnastics center might not be open to the public yet. Since Kim had some extra time, she allowed herself to stand nearby and enjoy the performance. During a lull in the music, Kim stepped forward and dropped a bill into his hat.


[System]
Age: 29
Height: 6
Weight: 180

Nationality: Kosovar Shqiptar
(Une Jam Shqiptar!)

Bio: The year is 1998, and the KLA are in a bloody conflict with the Serbians. Schools are bombed, government buildings destroyed. Women, children, and the old are lined up in death camps and destroyed. What able bodied men are left take up arms, or create their own sick devices, and the bloodiest terrorist war of Europe post ww2 rages.

 Young men from all over Kosovo are forced into combat, and forced still to watch the Serbians rage through their land. The dreaded Scorpions enact countless war crimes across the land, and boys are born into men by fire and brimstone.

 Nearly two decades later some of these boy veterans find their skills for hire by the rest of the world and private clients. These are the Albanian hit squads, and ex KLA Armend Sotir is one of a team of six, hired for revenge on a Shqiptar Mafia Baba's missing nephew, last seen bumming around japan, and supposedly abducted for unknown reasons.

[User]
Armend looked around before grabbing a soft metal file used to get the bur off the edges of the hanging blades. He knelt down by Sean's foot and slid of his shoe. Blood was trickling out of a large hole in his once white sock, and Armend looked up at the irishman with distaste.

 "You know," Armend started slowly, "dey make powder vor shoe odors."

 When he got little in terms of a reply from the gagged man he shook his head and tried not to think about the foot odor as he brought a lighter under the file. It took a few minutes, and the humming of "putting on the ritz" before the file's end turned a cherry red under the intense heat of the continuous fire.

 He looked up to Sean, "do you vant to do it? Learn a little willpower in the face of pain?"

 His eyebrow cocked, then he realized he wasn't going to get an answer from the incredulous man and decided to just get it over with. The metal hissed on the melting skin as Armend pinched the wound with one hand, and maneuvered the metal in the other. He worked quickly and expertly on pinching and sealing the wound. He even lifted the man's foot to check the side the bullet had escaped from, closing the wound completely after scraping out flakes of the lead.

 "I vouldn't run around for a little," Armend said grimly, "if you can avoid it."

[Assistant]
Tzu tapped the glass of the window and the driver started up again and the cavalcade continued on through the streets running over zombies left and right. Then the driver made a turn around the bin and eventually on a dirt path through the woods. The pathe eventually turned to gravel as the limo and several other cars made its way through. Eventually they made it to the gates and the gates opened taking them with in the Yakuza compound. Once the pulled to a stop he gestured to the door beside the manager. "Get out,... don't forget to hold the door for the lady" He said. He waited for both of them to exit before exiting himself and then he looked to the guards at the gate. "Initiate complete lock down and disable the buttons at the gate. " He said and the guards nodded and went off to do just that.

 He began to look for his nephew and found him he did in the armory where a wounded was being treated. He rose a brow and Zomura just shrugged. "Don't ask Uncle,..." He said and Tzu nodded.
"When your all finished here meet me in the dining building." He said and then left them there to their devices.

Zomura decided to follow his uncle Yumiko following right behind him. Zomura just wanted to be with his uncle at the time. Plus all this excitement made him hungry and he could not wait to eat right now.

[User]
Danica smirked as Armend mentioned the foot powder. "I have been telling him that for years but he never listens," she said as she glanced back over to Sean. "Okay man, brace yourself, this is gonna suck," she warned as she pinned hos shoulders down with her elbows and locked his legs in place with her thighs; trying not to laugh as Armend hummed.

 Sean's eyes widened as he watched Armend and attempted to scream as his wound was cauterized but could only manage muffled cries of pain as Armend worked; trying to flail bit Danica kept him pinned in place until Lonestar was done working. Once he was Danica hopped up and grabbed her bag, pulling out a first aid kit and bandaged his foot up.

 "There you go twinkle toes," she said before putting her stuff back in her bag, grabbing a few more clips and a katana for good measure before looking over at Armend. "I think we need to give him the raspberry," she said with a laugh as she made her way towards the dining building as she snatched her hoodie from Sean's mouth; who was still laying on the floor whimpering.

 "Bloody hell, help me up woman!" Sean grumbled and Danica just kept walking. They were safe for now it seemed, he could deal with this himself for a while.

[Assistant]
Otis shrugged at Zomura's comment on the Irishman, and said, "Whatever you say, babe." He gave a hearty laugh after his words. He held his firearm in one hand, pointed towards the ceiling. "But I'll follow you, boss. For now. Till the army shows up." He said.

His attention was suddenly diverted towards the display of cutlery on the wall. Something that piqued his interest was the kukri knife. "Ohhh?" He grinned mischievously as he took it from the wall. He let his firearm hang by the sling as he unsheathed the knife. It was as beautiful and sharp as ever and he took an instant liking to it. He sheathed it and attached it to his field load carrier. He looked exactly the way he thought he looked; like a partisan fighter.

"I would say I feel badass, but I always feel badass." He picked up his gun in hand, and followed behind Zomura, turning and walking backwards out of the armory. "Let's leave Sean, his name, yes? Here, in the compound. He can do administrative work or something, like cleaning and cooking. It's safer. We don't need more zombies to fight."

[User]
"No one dares give you the raspberry, yes?" Armend laughed as he saluted Armend before walking off behind Danica, eager to fill his stomach with what he could before the scene turned dark and rather tasteless dinners conquered their afternoons.

 He slung the sword he retrieved across his back next to his rifle, and shifted in his armored suit a little as he walked, getting used to the increase in weight after his resupply. After a few steps everything seemed to fall and place, and his suit felt as home as a cotton blanket under the autumn moon, only this could actually keep night time monsters at bay.

 A small creeped across his lips as he thought about how silly it would be fighting monsters with blankets, but how sillier it would be if it worked. Suddenly he was thinking about how one could fight with a blanket. Maybe as a distraction to catch the offenders off guard, or as a cushioned shield against blows when wrapped around the arm.

 He snapped out of his thoughts suddenly, and his eyes blurred and fixed back onto reality. He coughed, "I vonder vhats for dinner." He said trying to find something worth while to focus on.

[Assistant]
"Of course not, they'll go plaid if they do," Danica joked as she wandered into the dining hall, glancing around at her surroundings as she laced her hoodie back around her waist before taking a seat. They had shelter for now, a wall between them and whatever hordes lay out there, food, weapons and people. It seemed to fall into place but she wondered just how long it would last. These type of holdings never seemed to last long in the movies or the T.V. shows and the sad fact of the matter was that it wasn't usually the zombies that were the biggest issue. It was the people themselves. Even in instances where a group truly bonded and looked out for each other, there were always others that came along to disturb that peace, thinking they could just snatch it away and it would be theirs. They were usually always wrong. Human nature, no matter the situation, always seemed to be the biggest issue and the rest was just decoration for the scenario.

 Looking around at the group, they seemed to be well rounded enough and thankfully were able to communicate with each other though things perhaps would get lost in translation over time. Sliding her elbow along the table, she rested her head in the palm of her hand and sat there; drumming the finger of her free hand on the cool surface as she thought. Glancing over towards Otis she nodded slightly to his earlier comment about Sean. "Yeah, probably would be best if he wasn't on the outside. The man can climb right along-side me up a vertical rock face and not break a sweat; but seems he would just cause more issues out there than in here. I swear if I hear him scream again I am going to duct tape his mouth shut," she groaned slightly.

 Sean had been her photographer for years and she depended on him to help her get the job done but the job was different now. She doubted she was going to be conquering any mountains anytime soon or need any photographs for a travel article. Seeing the sites of Toyko without being bitten might not be the exactly what the magazine was looking for anymore. Then again, who knows, might be able to trade ammo for a survival brochure soon.

 Rolling her head slightly on the palm of her hand she looked over towards Armend and smiled. "After this morning, hopefully not noodles," she said with a slight laugh and then cringed inwardly as she thought back to Sean losing his breakfast after she killed the zombie on the way to the compound. She could gut a creature without flinching, dead people didn't bother her; a person upchucking though was never a fun experience to her.

 "If we are going to be here long term, or even have the hope of being here long term, we might want to keep an eye out for seeds when we are on runs. You know, like a garden center or a home improvement place. Somewhere we can get seeds, repair things like cement, fencing, etc. Once the stores run out of items we will have to grow things ourselves. And we have no idea if this zombie disease is going to affect wildlife, so the meat supply might dwindle quickly as well. Hate to say it but we may have to go red neck at one point; you know grow food and herd our own animals to keep going," she commented as her finger drew spirals over the table top. "That and a way to collect and purify water for drinking. We have no idea how long this will last, might as well plan for the long run. "

 Meanwhile Sean had finally managed to make it to his feet, using his tripod as a makeshift cane and eventually hopping into the dinning hall. Seeing Danica he grumbled a bit before he hobbled over to a free spot away from the rest of the group and collapsed into a chair; pulling another chair over to him he was able to prop her injured foot into it and just tried to remain quiet. He felt like a complete fool the way he had screamed earlier and the incident with the gun was likely to make him look like the weakest link, which in his mind meant that he would be first to be offered up for zombie chum.

[User]
Zomura proceeded into the kitchen, the tables and seats in the eating chambers of the building were different then most. The chairs where pillows and he tables for eating were like trays almost. He began to prepare something for their little gang and started by steaming up some rice. While that proceeded he began to pull out some beef and cut it into strips and began to boil it. Yumiko took a seat and just watched him cook. While the beef began to cook and boil he began to chop up various vegitables such as a few peppers, a couple onions, and even some cabbage and then tossed it into a frying pan once he had it all done. He then proceeded to add a few spices to it giving it a little kick.
Once it was done he turned the fryers down to a simmer and then drained the water to the beef and added it in. Stiring it around until it was mixed in.

 He then began chopping some raw fish as well for sushi incase anyone wanted it. IT was fine sliced salmon recently brought in from the fish markets. He then checked the rice and nodded. He then proceeded to put that said rice into bowls putting the main entree on a dish and then took them out and placed them on trays. He then took out a seperate tray which held the sushi.
The meal looked like something you would get from Panda express only this time it was made in a country that actually cooked the stuff.

 Zomura took to slices of the sushi and placed it on his rice. Yumiko moved to sit close by. "Can you pass the sushi?..." She asked him and he did so. She took a two slices and put one on her rice while she proceeded to stuff her mouth with the other. It was good and she almost forgot how hungry she was earlier. The food quickly reminded her of it.

[Assistant]
The manager got out of the limo quite angrily as he grabbed opened the door for Kazumi with some sort of aggression, he hated being forced into this kind of stuff; he wanted his money and he just wanted everything to get back to normal. Kazumi got out slowly before the manager slammed the door and grabbed her arm, forcefully whispering in her ear while her quiet squeaks for help were ignored by the manager 'Don't you dare, do anything rash!! do you understand??' as to which Kazumi nodded. After being shoved away by the manager Kazumi looked to Tzu in shame, she has never experienced her manager being this aggressive before with her.

While being shoved away she fell onto the floor but got up quickly and adjusted herself as much as she could before the manager told her off for not keeping her clothes clean 'Tzu! I am ready!' she projected softly'


[System]
Apparent Age: 20? 25?

"IS": A rabbit, for all you know.

Description: This Kite stands at 4'4" as a bipedal white rabbit shrouded in black attire noted in 'Armaments'. Lithe and otherwise physically unimposing.

Armaments: Mage attire, at a glance. They're garbed in a yet-to-be-inspected midnight-black fabric: A hooded robe ending at the knees and elbows, long boots with a yet-to-be-inspected metal 1.5inch heel and toes, gloves end in similar metal segments at each fingertip. All Kites currently seen are dressed the same, sporting a horned bird mask which somewhat obscures the fact that they're not human, though the fur of Violet's kite is snow white. The purpose of the mask is currently unknown.

Teraterifficence: Violet's Kite apparently wields a terrifying proficiency with psionics, capable of 'thinking' concepts into reality either inside another person's mind as vivid, potentially brain-melting hallucinations or, as demonstrated in Post Zero, manifesting physical objects typically in the form of nebulous and fleeting bladed objects.
A uniqueness in what 'pact' that has apparently been signed with Violet, Violet's Kite does not stay dead, apparently capable of rapidly recovering from mortal injury or at least eschewing the finality of spells that would otherwise outright kill a target. The extent of this power is currently unknown.

Your World: The Backwards Castle; built upside-down, its tallest tower reaches far underground.

Backstory: There is a tree. There is a kite. There is more than one kite. This one belongs to Violet.

Main Theme

Boss Theme 0: 'The Tangled Kites'

Name: Keepakura Suketthe Nyvaal 'The Seer of Eyes and Biter of Teeth', 'The Keeper of All Hollows', 'The Bird That Eats Us'

Apparent Age: Indeterminable

"IS": Indeterminable

Description: A snow-white beak and nebulous darkness filling in their empty eye-sockets and mouth save for how a set of large humanoid teeth and a long ink-black tongue seemingly float within. They posess a myriad of hands and heads, though a body has yet to be seen.

Armaments: Indeterminable

Teraterifficence: Unknown

Your World: The Backwards Castle

Backstory: "See nawh...once upon a tiiiime...ah simply was...an now here we aahr~"

Other: Speaks with a hauntingly pleasant southern drawl akin to a gentleman at all times.
"The Haunt"

"The Bird That Eats Us!"

Obligatory: Sponsor 'MasonParker' on Paetreon for their artwork that I used for 'Keepa'

Name: Kaath...
Apparent Age: Their alien race makes it difficult to discern anything between "25-40"
"IS": A monster
Description: Standing at about 5'6, Kaath appears monstrous and feathered. They wear a greatcoat of a mastercraft design, plates of metal set in and out in a quilted pattern with a belt around the waist to distribute the weight. Underneath sits a bespoke fit of a breastplate over a gambeson. Breeches tuck into plated boots with greaves hanging casually from their thigh. Casual, almost lazy of a donning. Upon the lapel of their coat's collar are three distinct pins of honorific significance. Simple, but profound in each of their design.

Armaments: A sword of radiant magnificence and perfection that stands in stark contrast to its current wielder's motif.
Teraterifficence: Currently displayed is a strength and speed wholly supernatural in demonstration, wielding a greatsword with the tact and speed that one would a shortsword.
Your World: Yet to be elucidated.
Backstory: Kaath's coat has a few pins upon their lapel. One of a crest of galvanized steel, a shield with two spears linked with laurels. One of a serpentine dragon on a plate of presumably silver, kept well polished. One simple dagger with a backdrop of a crescent moon.
Other: Nothing yet.

[User]
Violet would listen as Walker would try to make his inclusion based on her opinion. As she heard him talk, she remembered a term used in comics from her world, A "tsundere". Walker seemed like he was playing hard to get. It probably wasn't accurate but it was a fun idea to play around with. Violet would playfully lean towards Walker, Awwww Walker, is that your way of saying you want to join us? She'd let out a chuckle and continue. If you'll leave it up to me then I'd be happy to have you with us. She'd give a curtsy as a way to welcome her already accepted teammate. He's rough around the edges at times but he's still got plenty of worth to him. She'd raise her head to look at Walker, Your realism helps keep me grounded so to speak. As long as you can put up with my 'outbursts' then I think we can be a great pair!
 She'd look over as Jasper spoke up. I did notice you seemed a bit distracted. We're you expecting them to lead us to town? Sure they could take the glory, no matter how undeserved it is, but a little extra security wouldn't hurt. She tried to think about how Jasper felt about this. Given how distracted he was, she couldn't tell if it was impatience or fear. Both seemed rather unlikely, given Jasper's character, but still, something that needed to be considered. So should we be ready for a fight when these people show up or will things go smoothly for the most part? Violet wasn't ready to fight now and if the enemy's size is to be taken at face value, they could easily end up surrounded. The better question would be what to do should they get captured. True she could 'say' that she and Walker give up on their quest should they force the topic, but what if they say to 'kill the rabbit and let go of the string'? Her hands would be tied then. The best she can hope for is to follow those two across the bridge and hope for the best.
 Violet then had a thought. Hey these people we're waiting for, you don't think Kaath went after them, do you? From what you said, it sounds like she doesn't like them very much, and when she left the cave, she seemed to be in a pretty sour mood. You don't think she's... dealing with them, do you? She'd been thinking about everything since they left the cave. She'd let her guard down since they were in new scenery and felt like, without the presence of Keepa, she didn't have too much to be afraid of. Wondering about how much she missed or didn't think about, she quickly remembered something she let go of. That guy who ran off when your hand fell on him, was he one of Kedvan's... boys? If so, they could already know we're here and could set up an ambush. She'd look to the bridge but it looked sturdy enough to not give way under anything minor. Everyone, stay sharp, they could be lying in wait anywhere.

[Assistant]
"My way of saying that, as before and as always, I keep acting in the interest of others and some damned greater good." Fat lot of good that had done him, robbed him of whatever passed for an afterlife in his home..city, he couldn't bring himself to say or call it anything else at the moment. She made her decision, and he snuffed out the pipe, but not before taking one last drag and blowing out a series of rings, letting them float through the air as he stared at them, intently, before putting out the pipe and pocketing it. The rings would drift on for sometime, far longer than they had any right to, but fade eventually they would. Seemed she was keen on having his type around, well there was no accounting for taste. Maybe dragging her out of that mess with Keepa was a smart idea after all, even if it had left his shoulder smarting something fierce for a fair bit. "That's a mutual expression, V. When it comes to all that...mage nonsense you'll be on point. I know just enough about it to know when to keep my hands to myself."

 That was...mostly true at any rate. He knew a bit more than he would let on, Walker never dealt in complete honesty outside of the most dire of circumstances, but he could be known to tell mostly truths. Of course the cog golem would make some backhanded apology, and he snorted at the remark on both manner of speech and accent. Fine, let the field be calm for now, he wasn't going to get anywhere antagonizing what passed for their only escort through this place. Though before he could remark on that, the thing decided to finally speak up that the men who were supposed to be here were missing. Wonder if these bastards were lazy or got themselves into trouble, both, or neither even. Hard to say with dishonest crooks, never knew where you stood with their lot. He didn't like the idea of fighting a whole gang, not in the woods. Nor on this bridge for that matter, as he scanned the surroundings intently. Too many ways to come up the sides, too many places to ambush from. Like some damn alleyway only greener. "What did happen to her, anyways? Halfway reasonable and gets...vanished? Whatever words are appropriate for whatever mage trickery that was..."

 "Odds of scrapping it out with an entire gang is tricky. If they're halfway smart, they would get the first hits in, and make them count. Keep alert for anything out of place, near as we can tell of course, and be ready to move. Really depends on who we run into first, and their temperament. Here's an old saying from back home some of the nicer folks kept by that might be useful for now: 'Offer one hand in friendship, but arm the other one just in case'." In such a situation, figuratively speaking, you'd have one of their hands preoccupied to slide a knife into between their ribs if they proved to be unfriendly. Still, if they needed this gang, well, there was far worse he could do for company. He ran his own gang for awhile before things went poorly, they come across this Kedvin, the biggest tool, and he might just be able to get a handle on what and how this fellow operated. Would speak volumes on their odds of getting anything more than a fight out of him.