[System]
Normal Appearance:

Alternate form:

Former faction: Autobots

Role: Ground / Fire Support

Weapons and tools:
* Energon Tomahawk
* Neutron Assault Rifle
* 2x Thermo Rocket Launcher

Personality: Turbulence seemingly forever sees himself under the command of someone higher up and that's just fine by him... except when said CO gets themselves deactivated permanently, Turbulence is then quick to refer over to the next ranking officer up on the food chain. The Autobot soldier does not feel okay with the idea of being a leader and the job's heavy responsibilities it comes with. Turbulence would rather be on the frontlines receiving taking orders than giving them.

It's quite possible the transforming gunship suffers from too little self-confidence and more than enough worry; which is unfortunate and unusual given the number of battlefield accommodations Turbulence had unknowingly earned by his previous commanding officers. Turbulence is quite the tactical genius when it counts and is often openly insightful on a lot of topics, especially during the flow of battle where he can quickly coordinate with his fellow Autobots on the ground and air.

History: Surprisingly, Turbulence at one point had nearly joined the Decepticons, being one of the many unhappy mechs professing their frustrations with the corrupt Senate at the time. However, he soon learned that the Decepticon's earliest insurgencies were not what he had in mind as a just cause to get behind and quickly joined the Autobot faction once they emerged. He eventually found himself on the frontlines; somewhere he had been trying to avoid during the first volleys of the conflict.

But it was the battlefield he had probably belonged on in the first place. Turbulence showed an unfamiliar sense of battlefield prowess much of the early Autobot-aligned Cybertonians at the time lacked; being more civilian formed militias than the battle-hardened gladiators and angry mobs of the Decepticons. During one heavy engagement with the Decepticons, Turbulence spent several cycles in his Alt. Mode supporting allied troops, only topping off on Energon and ammunition when he ran nearly dry on both reserves.

Turbulence's current unit face incredible fighting in the defense against a Decepticon counter-attack while much of the Autobot's primary command and elite soldiers would take the war off-world in search of a new energy source as Cybertron's own resources would soon be on the verge to a non-renewable or reversible state. His platoon would soon be demolished and completely scattered due to the hard struggle. Turbulence soon found himself without any targets and even worse, no allies or any command to rally back with and left alone in uninhabited wasteland.

Extras and additional information:
* Has a tendency to remain in Alt. Mode as opposed to his more sapient form.
* Chassis has be modified for easy-accessible maintenance due to a history of damaging engagements.
* Voice - Steve Blum
* Theme - Transformers: War for Cybertron OST - Transport Flight

Relations with other characters:
* Prism - (Coming Soon)
* Sklog - (Coming Soon)
* Nightscream - (Coming Soon)
* Cyclonus - (Coming Soon)

[User]
Turbulence gave a very audible sigh of relief upon seeing the Matrix of Leadership still intact and rightly confined within Optimus Prime. Whatever the fateful circumstances had befallen the Autobots who bravely followed Optimus Prime, they were at least successful in sending away their prize to somewhere that was safe; supposedly safe given recent events. But with Prime now deceased, what good what the Matrix to him? What good was the Matrix to anyone now, especially considering the revered artifact's fading state?

"I..." Turbulence hesitated; he found himself stumped on the very question too, "Well...we can't just leave him here"

Looking where they had come from, he could see the the lab's silhouette within the haze that surrounded the looming structures of Kaon. Around him and Prism were the Junkions, still remaining silent but nonetheless observant of the two Autobots and their privileged quarry, "Especially not here."

Thinking hard about their situation, the only thought or parallel that Turbulence could muster was Iacon. It made sense really, at least to him; Iacon, much like Kaon was to the Decepticons, was their home city. Their turf. But much of the megalopolis had been destroyed by the Decepticon's fierce assaults. Turbulence could not even recall there ever being a sector untouched after the battle was over. That is, if it was truly over, given the skirmishes that he would hear about daily. Even so, it was still the same city Orion Pax was inaugurated into Optimus Prim.

"My only idea would be Iacon. It would be proper to return Prime there," he anxiously suggested, "We may - just may learn what to do afterwards."

[Assistant]
Hearing the heavy thumps on the stairs, Nightscream looked back at the door. It didn't look like Sklog was going to try and extinguish her spark again, making her somewhat more relaxed. "You did keep a flight capable mode, right?" she inquired, seeing some changes to his chassis has happened since she last laid optics on the former dinobot.

Leaping into the air she transformed, engines revving up. "If not hop on, but let's not make a habit of this! And if you say you're afraid of flying you're losing your brawler card!" the seeker said jokingly. Pulling up a navigation widgets, she looked at the map and found the spot where Prime's mobile tomb landed.

Could they send Megatron too? That would be a great relief.

...

I hope you are all right, Brother.

As soon as Sklog decided whether he needed or wanted her help or not, Nightscream blasted off and headed for the Autobots.

[User]
The Junkions all looked around at one another, even Wreck-Gar unable to step forward and say something to them. His face, normally jovial and as carefree as the wind, was unsure. He looked at the dead body of Optimus Prime, a figure that all of the Junkions had seen before at one point or another from hijacking Earth communication waves. He was unsure if he should tell the two Autobots what he and the others had heard. They had believed it to be just convenience that all of the words that they heard were organized in such a way, and didn't actually believe the death of the last Prime when it had reached their ears, but now there was absolute proof, and without his spark, there was no possible way for them to fix him. Of course, they could fix the body and put a new spark in it, but it wouldn't be Prime.

"We'll help, we'll help." Wreck-Gar finally spoke up and looked to Prism and Turbulence. "We'll get that delivery done in thirty minutes or it's on the house." His tone, however, matched the general feeling that all of the Junkions were feeling. He was trying to be happy, or at least not let his true emotions show, but he did feel remorse for the fallen commander all the same.

Prism looked at Optimus Prime almost expectantly. There had to be something, she told herself over and over. Something that Prime himself left for his troops or for the ones still on Cybertron. Kup left the message, that yellow Autobot sent the pod, so what did Prime do? There had to have been something. A message, a tool, anything. Something to tell them what to do and how to continue onward, something telling them exactly what they were going to be up against.

Turbulence was right, though. They should be heading for Iacon so they can take the pod apart and see if the others had left anything else to help Cybertron against Megatron, or whoever had done this to Optimus. They needed to start rebuilding, getting ready for whatever was ahead of them, and see what others remained on cybertron in hopes of them helping out as well.

Slowly, she moved aside, letting the Junkions work to pry the pod out of the ground. She wanted that whole thing. There was no way that she wasn't going to take it apart and flip it inside out to see if anyone had left them anything but the Matrix and Optimus. Maybe they didn't know how bad things were back on Cybertron, maybe they did. If there was anyone still out there, she hoped that they could get in touch soon.

She then turned to Wreck-Gar, looking at him curiously as they watched his bots do their work. "You never told us why you're here, Wreck-Gar. Normally, you lot are pretty territorial of your own space." She smiled and laughed a little. "You aren't thinking of taking over Cybertron, are you?"

"Yep yep, quite the astute one, you are!" He chirped much happier this time. "We thought the sky was fallin' when we saw that thing there fly past us, so we followed is here, yes we did. We come in peace." He smiled back and even laughed at the two.

[Assistant]
Just as Turbulence gave his weary suggestion, the Junkion Wreck-Gar spoke up the rest of the amassed scavengers, volunteering their services in excavating the large pod-coffin of Prime and transporting it to Iacon. The Autobot flyer knew Junkions were a very wonky but fiercely territorial bunch, but to show this much kindness - it was almost too good to be true. Before him or Turbulence could voice their opinion on the matter officially, the Junkions conveniently set about their work in freeing the pod from the crater; a task both Autobots would agree on needing to complete first had they done it themselves, that was assuming of course the Junkions were truer to their original nature.

It was assumed by Turbulence that Prism was on-board with his idea too as she never argued about it once, perhaps mainly because she amusingly queried Wreck-Gar about a hidden agenda for taking over Cybertron to which the Junkion laughed in response. How quaint. "I...appreciate you and your people's dedication - and optimism - in assisting us with this endeavor Wreck-Gar,"

Turbulence paused a moment and gave Prism a glance in order to gain her attention before continuing, "but I must ask is you're really prepared to do this. Iacon is roughly on the other side of the planet. Primus know how much time it'll take to get there."


[System]
Age: 29

Gender: M

Stature: Has a fair amount of muscle on him but not overly so. Can appear intimidating if he chooses but he's too collected to give off an aggressive impression when it's unnecessary. Broad shoulders and wide hands, but a lean enough frame and a balanced height that he isn't stocky.

Hair color/style: Natural black. Kept neat and combed back in upscale areas while in lower-class areas its kept finger-combed. A slight wave to it but not considered wavy.

Eye color: Dark brown

Facial: Strong jaw and thick brows, straight nose. Shapely lips but wouldn't be considered full. Clean shaven typically when he has a series of gigs.

Skin tone: Naturally olive skin tone combined with a decent tan

Nationality: He's an American citizen despite what would be considered a 'black Irish', meaning his family line is predominantly Irish and Celtic heritage with darker features which earns the nickname.

Family, background, and personality: A few generations before him is what he would take credit for in not being dirt poor and living in the ghettos. His grandmother was an Irish immigrant, lucky enough to land a job under a wealthy family of lawyers as a housekeeper. Luckily enough for her, she caught the eye of one of the sons and married him when the inheritance was granted to him (no sooner unless he wanted to be cut off of his money for even thinking of settling down with an Irish woman). Producing a son, Declan's father, the family had decided to keep their Celtic blood strong in retaliation to a very anti-Irish America. This was considered crazy and immoral to do so and heavily discouraged but the two came to this agreement after witnessing the poor conditions of the Irish. Declan's father specifically sought out an Irish woman to settle himself down with. Though the money was not nearly as flowing, finding a job wasn't necessarily a perilous feat since Declan always had family background to rely on. This angered some, while others turned a blind eye and only focused on their stable income. Declan, despite the many lawyers and businessmen of his family line, chose to pursue music in a classical symphony orchestra. Specifically, the violin and managed to land a good number of gigs playing music during silent films. Declan managed to get by with this despite his heritage, creating a 'heard, not seen' approach. Skilled in the violin, he never made a name for himself but rather prided himself on being able to support both his jobs and an artistic side. The Great Depression took a toll on many economic spheres, however since people turned to creativity, music, and art, Declan wasn't one to suffer. Declan has traveled a fair amount and through traveling has made decent connections with people. He is socially gifted and brushes off things easily with those who dislike him, at least on the surface it appears that way. He's made friends all over, from dangerous slums to the other men accompanying him in orchestra. He knows how to carry himself differently based on the people he's around, which can be a trait that most would be distrusting of. Declan knows how to throw a punch and how to hold a conversation in the same day – and do it all smiling. He is much more gossipy and drama-oriented than he gives off and he has traits of being a manipulative person with those who are easily swayed. This man enjoys a good story and adventure that most would avoid.

Other: Declan is an only child. He doesn't like quitters and refuses to be someone who 'drops out of the game', softens his accent when he's in the presence of classier people and thickens it when he's around other Irish Americans. He enjoys a double life of sorts. Loves his instruments to death.

[User]
It didn't take long for Declan to go down. Not with three men and the surprise of being rammed head first into his car. It left a dent, that's for sure, one that Declan likely wouldn't see. Perhaps so, if their attack hadn't been disturbed. To both his luck and misfortune Declan went out easily, even while he was croaking out each time a foot lodged itself forcefully beneath his ribs, to his side and even his back when he'd been flipped over finally. Had he been awake throughout it would have been downright shameful for a man who was no stranger to throwing a fist and popping a few noses if necessary. And in the back of his mind – the deepest, darkest regions of whatever lingering consciousness, he was right there wailing himself along with these men.

Declan had seen and started his fair share of fistfights. In the seedy alleyways of the ghettos, the run down speakeasies as a teenager. It was all the same, violent dance ever since he'd grown enough muscle to pack a punch. He wasn't angry, not like the bitter men who'd starved, strained, suffered growing up in tenements, all packed in like sardines. It wasn't out of hurt or fear or some sort of retribution, but out of sheer boredom and the thrill of a brawl that kept him on his feet. Usually, at least. Perhaps at heart he was nothing but an Irish thug, a no-good troublemaker with privilege as his fallback. Did he lack the blunt, burning passion that grew inside of someone who had all the more reason to pick fights and hunt men? Maybe. But Declan wasn't an aggressor and never needed to be. All it took was a cool laugh and a wrong look to get someone fired up, usually in a crummy sort of town, and if someone invited him to a match then all the better. He didn't rest well at the idea of settling into a life without adventure.

But Declan didn't have a single second to get a solid glimpse of his attackers. A cheap shot, if you ask him, but a fight wasn't what they were looking to get. They wanted money, they wanted his car and they wanted to rob him of every notable cent that he was made up of. Most of all, they wanted Declan smashed into the dirt before he could note their faces.

The men were spooked as soon as the first blast sounded. They hadn't even noticed Jack approach by horse, too busy scrambling around and kicking up gravel to both rob and subdue their target and barking orders at one another to hurry and take what they could. When the first shot had been fired time froze and what was left of the men had halted in their tracks. The third, busy at work counting through the bills of Declan's money clip was the only body that crumpled in on himself. He collapsed without a single sound, soaking the the thirsty dirt with blood. The other two looked up to Jack, bug-eyed and mid motion, tempted to flee altogether. But Jack already had his two pistols locked on them as if to dare them to move. To so much as take a single step in the opposite direction.

Declan seemed to come to by this point. He stretched his sore limbs out with a groan, picking his face up from the ground and worked through figuring exactly who was responsible for the sudden ambush. Narrowing it down to the men crouched over him and not the one sitting horsetop, pistols ready, he raised himself onto his elbows and spit what tasted like a combination of saliva and blood. Finally, now that he'd gotten his bearings together and the world wasn't a complete see-saw, he narrowed his eyes at the one holding the wooden case.

"It's none of your business doing this!" One of the two men had shouted to Jack, timidly looking back and forth between him and the body. "You murderer, you'll be put away for th –!" But he was cut short when a pair of feet came slamming against his knees. His howl seemed to set the last one in motion, dropping whatever was in his hands and spiraling whichever open direction to escape.

[Assistant]
The sudden attack by the man on the ground caused Jack's eyes to dart away from his target momentarily. He hadn't noticed that the man was awake yet. Upon the attack, the one man left standing had made a run for it, his boots kicking up dust as he ran. He was smart enough not to waste his time with starting up the car but stupid enough to believe Jack was going to let him get away unscathed. The rage had driven him mad - his hesitance to shoot or kill had nearly dissolved. His discretion barely functioned at this point. He wouldn't be traced for a crime committed against a couple of robbers out in the desert land.

Narrowing his eyes, Jack adjusted his pistol, aiming it at the running man's foot. He shot at it twice, watching the man tumble to the ground, a flurry of dust flouting up as he fell. It was at this point that he turned his attention to the two men on the ground. The one man had lacerations and bruises scattered all over his face and appeared in bad shape. The thought occurred to Jack that, if he had not intervened, this man would have met the same fate as his family.

With swiftness, he dismounted the horse, pacing over to the robber on the ground. Without any hesitation or warning, Jack laid into the man's face with his fist, hitting him until he passed out. Panting heavily, he straightened up again and pushed his hair away from his face with a blood stained hand. It scared him that he could do such acts without the thinnest shred of guilt. Jack had never felt such a burning rage before. The desire to kill or harm another man had rarely occurred to him throughout his life. He was known as the peaceful child. The only that consistently obeyed and made sacrifices to keep the peace. Now, peace was the last thing on his mind.

"You hurt bad?" Jack finally addressed the man that had been ambushed, extending his hand to him to help him to his feet. The third robber was about fifteen feet away, attempting to get back to his feet. Jack, however, was not worried about him. He had something in mind for him and he wouldn't be going far in his condition.


[System]
Age: 17

Gender: Male

Race: Faunus (White-Tiger based)

Weapon: Kladenets & Perun

A Charge-Blade and Axe-Shield combination weapon. The two weapons have the unique ability of fusing into a single, larger weapon. Taking the form of a giant axe for a more powerful, albeit slower, combat style. The sword becomes the shaft of the axe with the shield becoming the axe's head. Internally, his weapons house a hidden firing mechanism that allow him to load Dust Ammunition. With loaded ammunition he can unleash destructive, close-ranged, explosive blasts.

Speciality: Though he doesn't necessarily fall into a single, defined role he primarily engages close-ranged combat, but can act as a defensive off-hand tank with his shield and utilizing his Semblance, provide a supportive role. With his shield, he can skillfully defend and attack at the same time with his sword at extremely close ranges. Sheathing his sword into his shield, he can then switch to a defensive position to guard himself or his teammates. As part of his versatile and adaptive nature, his shield has a bladed edge and short punch-spike at its base that allows his shield to double as a weapon. Hidden within his shield is a speed-loader that can quickly reload his sword with a full magazine of Dust Ammunition in the event of an emergency.

Combining his sword and shield together to from his Great Axe, he trades speed and defense for a purely offensive style of combat. With his giant Axe he can use his impressive strength to cleave, crush, and smash through large groups of enemies at once. Though his attacks with his Axe are much slower and in wide arcs, the sheer brute power of the weight of the axe and its slightly increased melee range makes it a fearsome weapon in Kuhaku's hands.

In either its sword or axe form, Kuhaku can load special Dust Ammunition to either 'Burn' or 'Fire'. 'Burning' a round, he can propel himself short distances for a powerful and quick strike. 'Firing' a round unleashes an explosive blast in a small area in front of himself. His explosive dust attacks all require ammunition and as such, he wears a belt with Dust Shotshells on them.

Semblance: The King's Voice - With the sound of his roar, he can temporarily remove mental limiters on he and his teammates' minds. Allowing them to fight with enhanced senses and bolstered physical capability for a few minutes at a time. For his enemies, the sound of his roar has the opposite effect. Muddling their senses to reduce their effectiveness and confusing them.

However, his Semblance comes to him at a cost. The more often he utilizes his Semblance, side effects start to appear though only in himself. The side effects can range anywhere from headaches, impaired senses, seizures, temporary memory loss or permanent memory loss. Not only coming with side effects, there are certain conditions to his Semblance in order for it to be completely effective, if at all. Whenever he prepares to utilize his Semblance, his golden eyes turn a burning, glowing blue. With black 'stripes' appearing on his 'fur', face, and arms. His stripes and eyes can also act as a timer, fading as the effects of his Semblance wears off.

Personality: Having been orphaned at a very young age, Kuhaku never had a home to call his own. As such, he primarily lived in orphanages, moving to a new one every so often. Growing up having never known his own family, he was constantly abused and subjected to prejudice due to his race. Though due to his strong will and good heart, he never held the abuse he went through against Humankind and overcame his rough upbringing. He endured humankind's irrational hatred and treatment of his own kin.

Desiring to prove to others that the Faunus were not the 'beasts' and 'animals' most humans labeled his kind as, he enrolled in Signal as soon as he was able to. He believes that his enrollment to become a future Hunter as a way of demonstrating that Faunus and Humans can coexist and work together peacefully. He one day wishes to become a legendary Hunter to end the Grimm threat and prevent any future generations from ever having to go through what he did, having lost his family. As part of his good-hearted nature, you'll always see him in a generally bright and happy mood. Kind and polite to all who meet him, he treats most everyone with the same level of warmth and respect akin to that of a close, long-time friend. Outgoing, loud, energetic and enthusiastic are just a few characteristics to describe him. As a result of his tough childhood he has a deep understanding of other people's hardships and pain, granting him a strong sense of empathy. Quick to trust others and make friends, Kuhaku doesn't have a hateful bone in his body, despite what other ignorant humans might think.

Color: Sky-Blue

Emblem:

Appearance:

[All rights reserved to Nitroplus for the character image. Credit goes to Lugubrious for the Emblem!]

[User]
Kuhaku Shiro - Airship Docks

Shiro's ears perked when a student approached him and introduced himself. Looking up, he stared at the boy for a moment before frowning and tilting his head. His eyes brightened as he recognized the guy. "Robert? Robert Fallson? Oh, yeah! You're in Practice Class with me, aren't you? Yeah, I'm on Team Swansong with Abel." When Robert then reached for Scoot, Scoot crawled up to him and sniffed at the boy's hand. Shiro smiled and nodded, "Yeah, that's Scoot. You've heard about him already?" Looking at the ferret, Shiro was shocked as the creature then nipped and bit at Robert's hand. Telepathically exclaiming, "Bad!"

"Scoot! What are you-!"
Shiro quickly reached down and scooped Scoot up.
"You don't do that! He's a friend of ours, okay?"
Scoot, cradled in Shiro's arms, turned to sniff at the air towards Robert's direction and made an odd growl. "Bad!"
Shiro was surprised to learn that Scoot had learned a new word, but what was exactly 'bad' about Robert? To be honest, Shiro didn't really know the guy very much so he couldn't draw his own conclusions on the man's personality type. But, even still. For Scoot to just bite Robert's finger out of nowhere when he never demonstrated an ounce of malice towards any other student.

Looking up at Robert, Shiro's expression broke down into one of sincere apology. "I'm real sorry about that, he didn't hurt you or draw blood did he? He's never done that before, I don't know why he wouldn't like you." Shiro nervously chuckled as he leaned forward slightly to see how Robert's digits were. Straightening up, Shiro glared at Scoot and pointed a finger at the rodent's face. "Scoot, we don't do that! Bad!" The ferret, not quite understanding what was going on, sniffed and licked at Shiro's bandaged finger.

[Assistant]
Robert Fallson - Beacon Docks

Robert was probably more shocked than anybody else that Scoot decided to bite him. He let out an audible "Oww!" as his hand quickly recoiled away from the ferret. "Why would something so cute and adorable bite me?" he asked rhetorically. "And what did I do that made it dislike me so much? I don't smell that bad do I?" he continued, trying to lighten the mood a bit. Robert realized he was clutching his bitten index finger in his left hand and decided to give it a quick peek to see if it was in fact bleeding or swollen. As to be expected with his normal streak of luck, a slight trickle of red was running down the finger.

When the concerned Shiro tried to look at the extent of the damage done by his team's pet though, Robert quickly hid his hand behind his back so he couldn't get a good look. "No worries, it's fine. Just smarts is all. No blood or anything," he lied. The red haired boy hated doing that, especially to someone he was trying to make friends with, but if Shiro found out that Scoot's bite broke the skin he'd probably feel worse about the whole thing. It wasn't Shiro's fault that Scoot saw Robert as a threat. Besides, I've had worse. Ever been bitten by a venomous spider? Man does that hurt. And going through the whole procedure of getting anti-venom is a pretty big hassle, too. Especially when you're broke. But enough about me, what are you doing? Going down to Vale, too?

[User]
Cobalt decided to walk to the Beacon Docks. He had heard that it had quite a nice view and he was pretty excited to see if he could see Signal from it. He walked past two people talking and sat down on a bench facing the cliff.

He heard something about venomous spiders and began laughing quite loudly. "I hear you there buddy. It's worse when you're in the middle of a forest and miles away from the nearest hospital. I had to suck out the poison myself, spit it out, and run to the hospital as fast as I could. Don't mess with Broodlings, that's what I learned that day. Not even if you're positive that there's no Ariadnes around." Cobalt said as he reminisced that day. In actuality he never got bit by a Broodling, it was just a regular spider. It really hurt still, but not fatal like a Broodling bite. Still, he probably sounded like a badass from that story. He got up and walked over to them. "I'm Cobalt. I just transferred here from Signal. What are your names?" He asked as he cracked his stiff neck.

[Assistant]
Cian
"Well its good you found a place to get your bike from. Though yeah I just found out about the hair clips now and something like that would be greatly beneficial." Cian said it was a really interesting piece now that she actually thought about it something like that you dont hear much about and when you do its like a fantasy setting. Still it was to beneficial to actually pass up "In terms of battle gear I ordered somethings since I have little to none extra clothing left that isn't torn to shreds. I guess you get to see later when I pick it up tomorrow since that is when it will be done she said off hand. Now you going to look around or follow me and Jack here since he is dead set on following me to get my hair cut." She continued as she looked at the two boys that was in the store with her.

[User]
Jack Orpheus | Vale

"But that is a really nice bike, really", he commented. He never really found the need for transport, seeing as his semblance would cover his mobility problems in a pinch, but that was still a very good looking bike. It was also just convenient for him that he show Cian to this shop, since he did have to pick up his coat. He was also glad she could get what she needed, seeing as they were on the same team, being ill-prepared intentionally or unintentionally was bad after all. Next though was her haircut.

"Hmmmmm, I wouldn't say dead set, more like... I wonder what your hair's going to look like afterward. It'll be fun", he had strange ideas of what was fun, but he was going to be following and seeing how it turns out. He was likely just bored.

[Assistant]
Clair Carnelian

 She stopped. There was an awkward sincerity in the young man's invitation, a kind that she might've appreciate if it wasn't so early in the morning.

 But, she thought. Of all things... why bowling?

 Looking at him, with a build like his, there was no doubt he was athlete. But a bowler? Not that that would have been anyone's first guess, but maybe, she thought, she should let herself wake up a little more before she jumped to so many conclusions about a complete stranger.

 I guess I was a little harsh. Maybe the Princess is already rubbing off on me.

 That being said, she certainly wasn't awake enough to have social interactions of any level of depth. Yet there was a crucial consideration that she had to make.

 If I don't go with him, the only other person I have to keep me company until classes begin is Sarina, and that's not exactly my idea of a good time.

 She put one hand over her mouth and tilted her head.

 "I'll go with you," she said after a moment. "But you'll have to wait for me to shower first."

 At the very least, she could walk with him into town and go off on her own after asking him a few questions. It didn't have to be an all-day social affair. But whatever it was going to be, it was better than waiting in her room for Sarina to show up.


[System]
Appearance
s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/90/0..
Title: The Chaste Knight, The Stormcrow, One-Eye

Age: 29

Height: 6'2

Weight: 185 lbs.

Eyes: Brown

Hair: Dull Red

Gender: Female

Lineage: Human

Class: Knight

Side: Silver Shields

Skill: Ioetta is skilled in the martial art of swordsmenship. She combines her speed with her own physical strength, making her a formidable fighter. Ioetta, however, is weak in techniques and prefers to use power in all her attacks. Her training as a knight has granted her excellent horse riding skills, along with her talent in handling or training animals. Ioetta is quite physically fit, possessing good stamina and constitution.

Weapon(s):
Knecht kriegsmesser
Location: Sheathed at her left hip. The hilt of the Knecht is constructed with two grip-slabs that are secured with tubular rivets. The pommel cap shows a "fuller" or hollow-grind that continues the length of the grip to the guard. Secured by a rivet through the guard is a lug on the outside of the hilt that protects the knuckles of the hand. This is an important feature as the blade is used in binding and winding techniques that otherwise easily might result in damage of the forward hand.
Overall length: 113 cm (44.5 in)
Blade length: 85.5 cm (33.6 in)
Blade thickness: 7.25 mm (between 9/32 and 5/16 in) near the guard, tapering down to 3.25 mm (about 1/8 in) near the point
Blade material: 6150 carbon steel, tempered to around 55 HRC

Weight: 1375 g (3 lbs)
Point of balance: 12.5 cm (5 in) from the hilt

Ring Dagger
Location: Designed to hang from a hook attached to a knights armor, the ring dagger is a necessary addition to a knights defense on the field. This battle ready dagger has a tempered steel blade. The dagger has brass pommel and guard, and it includes a leather sheath.
Overall Length: 16 Inches
Blade Length: 9.5 Inches
Blade Width: 1.5 Inches

Arm Right: Knecht kriegsmesser

Arm Left: Empty

Armor: Ioetta wears a breastplate crafted from steel and is supported by a backplate. There are buckles attached to the armour and leather straps that come with the breastplate to make it wearable without a backplate. If you are wanting to wear this breastplate with a backplate, it is compatible with the steel Backplate for King or Templar and will also work with our Leather Backplates. With a unique raised steel design in the center of the breastplate, this armour fits just about any period for any character. Size Large.

Helm: N/A
Shoulders: Steel pauldrons with cannons, padded leather underneath
Bracers: Metal gauntlets
Chest Piece: Steel breastplate cuirass back and front supported by chain mail underneath over light padding.
Leggings: Chainmail
Greaves: Cowhide leather
Emblems: (Where the Personal Arms of the Company are located.)
Waist: Tassets, belted onto the front of the breastplate

Emblem- Located on the back of her shoulder cape.

Background:

Lady Ioetta Vetcel was Baroness to the province of The Cerulean Lakes during the time of the Kingdom of Hosredor. She was a close friend to the king, counting herself among his childhood friends. A adept commander, she served excellently in the King's Army. It was said she turned down many offers to claim the social ladder and become Viscountess of the Southern territories. She however turned them down, preferring to instead dedicate her time and effort on her home town at Cerulean Lake.

She is among the few higher ranking members of the nobility to survive the Orc horde invasion. Playing a crucial role in holding the rear guard during the final retreat. The King died in the last battle against the greenskins and Ioetta has blamed herself for it ever since. Choosing to bear the scar of it as her greatest failure; it was in that same battle she lost her right eye, thus it acts as a reminder to her constantly. She joined the Silver Shields not long after its formation. Believing wholeheartedly that they will one day give birth to the Kingdom of Hosredor once more.

She is among the companies most talented commanders and still possess great skill on the battlefield.

[User]
Screams echoed through the city. The guttural roars of the bestial creatures sacking the once proud city mingled with cries of fear and pain. Chaos reigned. Lars stared at the broken haft of his lance, the metal tip stained dark with blood. Seated, the weight of the world pressed upon him, he was tired. The skirmishes had been short, bloody and often one-sided.

Tossing the spearhead away, the dull clatter it made as it rolled along the stoned bridge faded quickly as a dream lost among the louder clamor of battle. Behind him, the grunts and heaves of men, muffled and distant as they ensured the great gate remained shut.

Rising with caution he heard then felt a click in his shoulder, a grimace of pain rippled across his dirt stained face. An orc, large and brutish, managed to catch Lars in such a ways that his club hammered his left shoulder. Thank the gods that his padding had absorbed the blow, it staggered him, dropped him to a knee, but it did not kill him. Somewhere an orc lay in a pool of his blood, his entrails strew across his body; sliced open by the spear, in a ragged, ugly way.

A tremendous crash at the far end stirred Lars from his thoughts as he adjusted the shield with a grunt. They were here, now on the bridge. Lars glanced at his companion. Tall, stout, and fierce. Truly, he could ask for no greater companion to fight alongside. Lady Ioetta Vetcel was as skilled as any man, and more so than most.

Cracking his neck a moment as he eyed the far end. With a sudden move, he slammed his shield against the gate behind him. A loud, metallic thud echoing between them. Drawing his war sword, Lars straightened inhaling deeply.

"Aye Lady. We should make haste for the coach; it may provide a bulwark against them. If nothing else we can force them to fight us singularly if we hold the paths alongside it."

Transferring the sword to his left hand, Lars scooped his great helm up and placed it atop his head. Adjusting it a moment, he returned the gleaming, deadly blade to his right hand and began moving with swift and sure determination towards the coach.

[Assistant]
"Sounds good to me," Phia said under her breath. She had an arrow knocked already, gently pulling it idly as she paced one from one end of the pathway to the other. Phia was in good condition. Too good. She'd barely seen any real fighting with this two big-guys around. They had already slit the throats of any idiot that got in their way before she could get a shot off. They had gotten extremely lucky. No real opposition, when the rest of the Black Talon hit this place like a flood of water, smashing into buildings, spilling into the streets ransacking.

It was good to know that she was with competent fighters and not just blood-thirsty maniacs. Okay, they might be blood-thirsty maniacs but that's not all they are. They didn't just leave her behind as they went to go off and rape some children or something. Phia scanned as her two comrades walked on. She trailed behind, glancing over the edge of the bridge. It's a long fall. Movement catches her eye, two distant figures fighting near the edge. They clumsily stumble over eachother and go stumbling into the abyss. She couldn't help but chuckle. It was funny, to imagine people being so uncoordinated.

Phia idly pulled her string once more, and faced their six, slowly walking backwards trailing behind.

[User]
Smoke drifted into the scorched air in lazy spirals, huddling like ravens over the bridge. Three more scavengers made it to the structure's far edge-- Black Talons, birds of prey attracted by their thirst for blood, riled by the thought that it would soon rain down into the canyon below. Kirian Varlos tasted his teeth, the tang of iron sharp against his thoughts. The entire day had been spent spreading a fine mist of dirt, sweat, blood, hate, fear into the air. For many, it tasted better than drink. It tasted better than food. Kirian tasted the chaos in the air, and narrowed his eyes on the gate looming ahead. He didn't even enjoy the feast; he'd had so much that all he could have was more.

Kirian's armor shod boots rattled lightly against the cobblestones as he strode alongside Phia and Gernev, impassively picking out details like a crow among men. From this distance, a stagecoach ahead looked to be about 12 meters away, with the gate another 25 or so meters beyond that, with various debris littered like so many corpses near the wreck of the coach. He rested his hand on the haft of his bec de corbin, and turned as Gernev ended the march with a signal to stop.

"They maybe taken cover behind this coach." He rumbled, "Phia, you stay behind, me and Kirian will go see if it is true. Is that good?"

"Sounds good to me." Phia voiced her affirmation, and took to the rear. Kirian offered a nod to her in response as she passed, and drew his bastard sword as he turned to face Gernev.

"Let's go. If they mean to take the coach, we'll draw them around to give Phia a clear shot.", he said, voice like iron, "If not, we'll secure, have her take point on top."

Kirian repositioned himself a good distance from the right lip of the bridge, close enough to Gernev that either of the mercenaries could freely engage in a melee with their comrade. Kirian primed himself for action, dismissing anything in his mind but the bare essentials in preparation for combat. He stood ready to move quickly at the edge of Gernev's sphere of influence, just far enough that any soldiers that got too brave with the Witch Knight would have to turn to see the other Talon, or be blindsided by a full grown orc. As soon as Gernev was ready, Kirian would stalk to the right, pacing himself to be a meter or two behind, keeping alert so that he could signal Phia of any changes.

Kirian's eyes narrowed again, unable to resist the sigil of the Silver Shields flying proudly alongside the carved insignia of Xoni above the palace gate. The entire day had been spent among similar banners torn to shreds, stained by men who were wrong in thinking they had the strength to hold it aloft. Kirian had spent the entire siege among broken shields and broken people, seen them starve in their walls, and their empty stomachs spread against their alleys. That would serve them just as well. Seeing those flags fly high and proud, Kirian looked forward to the next meal.

[Assistant]
Karvos was the last to join his companions, his tower shield heavily bloodied after smashing in the face of an unlucky and witless marauding Black Talon member who made the mistake of believing that shields were only used for defense and got a tad too close for comfort. The pointy end of his halberd was similarly soiled, though everything else about him was clean besides a few speckles of blood here and there, none of which were his own. His handsome face was relatively calm and quite focused on the task at hand, which matched the confident yet brisk stride that he took as he approached the rendezvous point before the enemy would have a chance to intercept him while he was on his own. Fighting was one of the few things that he was really good at, so as things stood now, the attackers were not all that impressive to him outside of their numbers. He still couldn't fight everyone alone or would be quickly overwhelmed if left out in the open, plus he was bound to run into more competent enemies if they had made it this far into the city without getting killed off or allowing themselves to be distracted by other things.

He didn't introduce himself to the two, only nodding silently as he took a temporary position between them, standing behind the stagecoach that they were approaching. Although he didn't bother introducing himself, revealing the Silver Shield emblem on his bracer and leaving it at that, he felt like they should get on to business quickly so he spoke up.

"I'll take out whoever you need, just so long as I can point a stick at them," he said confidently. "I'm not one for giving orders, only following them."


[System]
Nickname(Optional): June Bug

Age: 33

Gender: Female

Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.

Clothing:  Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.

Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.

[User]
Sayeeda didn't have the same sort of experience with starships that Neil did, but she did have strong survival instincts. Everything screamed to her that, if they didn't get out of this system in the next few minutes, they weren't getting out at all. The Highlander probably wouldn't survive a RIP jump in any case, judging by the damage they had taken back on Saavran. Or the planet formerly known as Saavran. Junebug wondered if the sleeping thing would have woken up if the Chalcedon's hadn't bombarded it.

"Steer for the Sky," she called to Neil to which York nodded emphatically. The Highlander curved gracefully into the hangar bay and the moment they cleared the magnetic shield the ship leaped into the RIP. Sayeeda's mind filled momentarily with spiraling neon designs which extended to the infinite without losing resolution. For a moment she hovered on the edge of madness and then she was back in the Highlander as it set down on the deck. The captain had taken a risk jumping while they were still airborne. If Neil had gone into a spastic fit they might have wrecked the freighter, but even that would be a small price in the mind of the battered warships captain.

"You have done a great thing for humanity today," York said smugly as they all walked shakily down the gangplank. A squad of marines in full combat gear was waiting for them and Sayeeda didn't get the impression that they were an honor guard. York stepped over to them and turned with an apologetic smile.

"Unfortunately… we cannot allow Mr Edwards to depart, that tattoo of his might be the key to more knowledge than we can imagine." Junebug stiffened at the words, although part of her had expected them, a mercenary always hopes that the contract will be honored, even when her guts told her otherwise.

"You are free to take the rest of your people and leave Mistress Cyckali, with the thanks of Terra and a hundred thousand credits in compensation," York declared magnanimously. Woods stepped off to the side clearly intending to cover Junebug incase she decided to do anything stupid. Junebug glanced at the marine and lowered her rifle, Neil shot her a look of mute betrayal. Junebug sighed heavily. She didn't know if Sven or Saxon would back her up and Taya looked terrified beyond words. The smart thing would be to leave Neil and go. She would have full rights to the Highlander then and she and Taya could probably pilot well enough until they could hire on another spacer as a helmsman.

"It is Captain Cyckali," she said in a flat voice and she was suddenly moving. With her off hand she cast her plasma rifle at Woods as an improvised missile and whipped a hand out from behind her back Neil's old style revolver in her fist. She had taken it from him when he started acting weird back in the temple in case he tried something when he wasn't in his right mind. The marines were expecting something, but they were so shocked by so suicidal an action that they hesitated for a fraction of a second. She shot York in the chest, the bullet smashing the disk in his breast pocket. Taya screamed and threw herself back towards the boarding ramp as half a dozen weapons opened fire. Junebug dove towards Woods, placing a second shot into a bandolier of grenades one of the marines wore. The hangar erupted in white fire as the bullet punched into the flash bangs, gang firing the whole bandolier and sending the charred remains of the marine smashing into a nearby cargo container. Junebug hit Woods around the waist, sending the woman sprawling.

The Terran was no newcomer to hand to hand but there was literally nothing you could do when two hundred pounds of body armor hit you at full speed. The tumbled along the deck in a ruck. Junebug struck at Woods face with a flat palm but the Terran caught the blow and twisted into a throw. Gunfire chattered deafeningly as Sayeeda spun over Woods shoulder, catching a grip of her backpack and slamming the Marine into the ground. Junebug kicked her in the hip, using the motion to shove herself away from Woods, trying to clear enough space to use the pistol, but the other woman rolled with the blow, skidding behind one of the lowboys that transported heavy equipment. Even though she didn't have a shot Junebug put a round into the vehicle before firing the remainder of the clip into the marines more or less at Random.

The soldiers were dragging the stricken body of York backwards towards one of the armored hatches. It was only the shock of attack and the flashbangs that had kept them alive so far. Junebug knew that in another heartbeat they would cut down the Highlander's crew in flurry of rifle fire. Woods was rising from behind her cover to line up a kill shot on Junebug. Screaming a curse Junebug swung Neil's pistol to bear and pulled the trigger. The final round cracked out and there was a sudden electrical discharge that painted the hangar with couscating static sparks. The bullet hit an invisible surface halfway between Junebug and Woods and dropped to the floor with a clang. Fire from a dozen weapons clattered into the same invisible barrier, limbing it with blue fire and revealing a cylindrical disc around the highlander. Junebug could only stare in wonder as bullets bounded to the deck and plasma bolts spattered impotently across the protective barrier. Taya had activated the Highlander's void shield inside the hangar. That was an insanely dangerous choice that might have just as easily killed everyone in the hangar in a massive generator failure. Well as they said in the Armored - Any one you walk away from.

"HA!" Junebug crowed and turned to dash towards the Highlanders landing ramp. There was a hollow boom behind her as one of the soldiers fired a shoulder mounted rocket into the shield, though he needn't have bothered, the Highlander's shields were built to take fire from another ship and there wasn't much a man could carry that packed that kind of firepower.

"Junebug we have maybe five seconds before the shield fails!" came Taya's voice tinny and terrified.

[Assistant]
Neil reached for his gun right after Junebug shot York with his pistol, only realizing after the fact that she had his fucking gun. Well, it couldn't be helped. The pilot might not be nearly as well trained in hand to hand as Junebug or Woods, but he had basic training down and was scrappy, and while York was close to superhuman levels of physical capabilities, he had just been shot with a large caliber bullet. Neil spun acrobatically and launched out with both of his feet in a drop kick, hitting York in the chest to add insult to literal injury. The sophisticated man cried out in pain and clutched his chest from the blow that had been struck into the bullet wound.

Neil caught himself with his hands, landing apeishly into a crouch. He just barely dived into the shield in time before the lasbeams and bullets began to ricochet off the void fields. Neil hit the ground in another roll, only to slam into the trunk-like limbs of Saxon, who looked down at him as if he was a particularly large shit he had just stepped in. "Your doing, I imagine." he rumbled, and to Neil it truly did look like he was contemplating on stepping on the lithe pilot. Neil shook his head emphatically.

"Not this time." He assured him with a grin. "Other times, yes. But this time, I didn't shoot first."

The growling continued for a few moments before it fadded off, and then a very human-like sigh escaped his mandibles. The Hexanagallion then began to access the small console within his armor at the wrist, and a small compartment raised up from above his massive hand. Neil heard air being sucked into the strange compartment before it launched its payload; a wrist mounted rocket. It sailed out of the void shield and detonated at the feet of the marine's, killing four and wounding several others.

"Don't stick around too long big guy, we're needing to get the fuck out of here." Neil said, scrambling to his feet and sprinting into the open cargo bay door. Saxon didn't respond, but he retreated nonetheless as he launched a volley of fletchlette rounds into the marines, who were leaping into cover and still firing just in case a few rounds pierced the shield, however unlikely that was. Neil passed Sven, who was simply doing his best to fix the parts of the Highlander that needed patching up.

"I'm glad I don't have to do two things at once like usual." Neil said to himself as he vaulted over a workshop table and slid into the cockpit access corridor. He hit the pilot seat hard and began to set the systems to go, calculating and working furiously. Thank Gideon, Sven had fixed the ship at least well enough to where it wouldn't detonate on impact, but Neil needed to still get things just right because going into the R.I.P. while already into the R.I.P. was probably the most risky thing one wanted to do in a ship.

When he saw that all were aboard, Neil revved the engine up and set the coordinates. The screen of the hanger bay appeared, and he saw Woods checking York on the ground, helping him up. Neil took a moment to watch her, before he pushed the image away and groaned. "Another one bites the dust." he said, and he hit the launch sequence. Within moments, the ship would tear a hole through the fabric of reality at the far end of the hanger and disappear into the void.

Neil felt as if his soul and nervous system were being tugged in two opposite directions, and he screamed as the ship tore through anotherarea of the R.I.P. He didn't even have air to warn the others to strap in. They simply were gone, and flew into the unknown.


[System]
Alias: Kurt
Age: 19
Gender: Male

Abilities: Animation; Without any physical or mental exertion, Kurtis can will to 'life' any inanimate object that he is in contact with, and with some mental exertion can actively control it. He can revoke this 'life' at will.

Weaknesses: The difficulty that Kurtis has actually controlling the 'creatures' he animates, or keeping them 'alive' is a multiplicative product of the animated object's size, complexity, and distance from him. As a general rule of thumb, Kurtis can keep his 'creatures' alive at about twice the maximum distance that he can remain in direct control of them. If he does not actively exert his control on them while they are within range, or if they are outside of range, they will remain alive, but mindless, without any direction other than an odd compulsion to perform whatever task is normally carried out by the animated object. For example, an animated broom that Kurtis wasn't actively controlling would simply sweep all over the place until Kurtis either assumed control again, or de-animated it. Additionally, while Kurtis can animate more than one object at once, the difficulty in controlling and maintaining them is additive. For example, if he animated two brooms at once, they would both be limited to half their usual ranges. If Curtis at any point loses consciousness, either by sleeping or being knocked out, all of his animated objects immediately revert to their inanimate states.

The only exception to these rules is in the case of direct physical contact. If Kurtis remains touching whatever he's animated, it is exponentially easier for him to control and maintain whatever being he's created. No matter how close Kurtis is, however, there is no way for him to maintain one of his animated objects while he is asleep.

Without his animated objects, Kurtis is not only a totally normal human being, but an exceptionally weak one, in ways better expanded upon in his appearance.

Appearance: Standing at 5'6" - well below the average for young men like him - Kurtis is almost a pathetic figure at first glance. His dirty blond hair is cut fairly short, and always looking just a bit scraggly. His dull blue-gray eyes are set just above to rather pronounced, dark bags, and his face is almost always set in a slightly sour expression. He has a very thin build, his ribs easily visible on his torso, and the skin stretched over them is exceptionally pale, even for someone of his Anglo-Saxon descent. Kurtis often hides most of these features with heavy, cold-weather-appropriate clothing, even when lacking the appropriate weather to justify it, and so is often looking generally sweaty and uncomfortable.

Personality: The easiest way to describe Kurtis would be that he's a control freak. He despises - and lashes out against - anything that makes him feel powerless. In tandem with this, he has a superiority complex that makes it incredibly difficult for him to make friends, convinced that they're just too dumb to properly understand him. Because of his domineering attitude, it is not at all unusual for him to make a scene when something goes against his opinion. Despite all of his behavioral issues, he has yet to ever misuse his power, and every so often he'll give some hint that he still has empathy for other people, beneath all the natural abrasiveness.

Background: Kurtis was only a baby when he was abandoned by the totally unprepared young couple that were his biological parents, so as far as he's concerned, his adoptive family is his real family, despite him having known about his position from a rather young age. Even early in his life, Kurt was always different from the other children, not playing many games with them, often keeping to himself entirely for whole school days. Worried, his parents tried to get him the counseling they thought he must need, but that seemed to only make matters worse.

All throughout his childhood and teen years, Kurt's parents did their best to cope with his gradually worsening personality, as well as a gradually worsening sickliness due to what they discovered was a weak immune system. All throughout this time, he would spend most of his free time acting out power fantasies with himself, gradually cementing his self-image as someone that could handle the sort of power he dreamed about.

Finally, one day, that power came to Kurt, when in he midst of one of his fantasies, he inadvertently animated one of his small toy soldiers. He wasted no time in showing this to his parents, who immediately decided that something like this, in Kurtis' hands, had to be handled by someplace that knew what they were doing. So, almost as soon as they learned about the Academy, they were sending him off to not only learn to control his power, but maybe, just maybe, make some friends among a group of people he might actually be able to relate to.

[User]
---

Veronica Emily Davis.

---

Stepping off the bus, Veronica took a good hard look around. Those sharp green eyes of her scanned the area right as the bus drove off to it's next destination God knows where.

This place, normally, would be the last place that Veronica would be seen in. She had no choice, because that damn email told her to come here, at this time, if she wanted to join this little school of theirs. After jumping through a million hoops, she showed up in this city. Why a park of all places, she didn't know. What she did know was that she would be giving any recruiter a piece of her mind if she gets mugged in here. Though, if that happens, the bastards will be shocked so hard his heart will explode. She wished that it wouldn't have to come to that.

Veronica sighed, dragging the luggage behind her as she walked forward through the gates of the park. The cool autumn wind blowing her black hair back. She looked down and looked at her white button-up, black jeans, and black heels. She was well dressed, but didn't stick out too much among these hicks. Good. Which means they won't be putting too much attention on her. She'll just have to find this representative, then she'll be out of here.

While she wasn't too fond of America, what was the most surprising was the fact that her cards still worked. Looks like Daddy's still out there, after all. Without it, Veronica would be living in squalor. She was grateful for that, she wouldn't have made it this far without that cash. Bus ride after bus, motel to motel, it felt like forever, but she made it here.

... It better be good at this school.

Veronica sighed, and kept walking. Her feet were getting a little tired. Veronica didn't want to stop, and leave herself vulnerable, but maybe a little rest was in order. She found herself a little bench, and sat down on it, and put her legs together.

Sighing again, Veronica closed her eyes.

---

Phoebe Jasmine Sarin.

---

Phoebe's arrival was somewhat better. Since her parents dropped her off right at the park.

Waving goodbye to the speeding vehicle with a heavy backpack on, Phoebe strolled into the park, and immediately took a whiff of the fresh fall air. This place was beautiful. Phoebe put a smile on her face as she stepped more and more into the park. Every step she took, she absorbed information about the plant-life here. She knew more and more about the beautiful plants of this park. She passed by a dying rose, and looked at it for a moment. Before she brought it back to life by exerting her will into it. A drooping, decayed, rose, became the red beauty it once was in an instant.

Now, all Phoebe has to do is find the recruiter and she'll get to work.

[Assistant]
Silas had arrived in the town a few days before the required meetup. Not knowing if he would be trusted, or if the school was to be trusted, he spent a couple days scouting the area. Overall, it was a fairly simple town with nothing too fancy. However, he knew well enough to know that he couldn't exactly just allow himself to be seen by the citizens of the town, especially after he burned down the inn. Therefore, he spent his time in the trees, staying hidden from view, peering out occasionally to make sure it was safe to move.

Eventually he settled into an oak tree near a river at the park where everyone was supposed to meet. This way, if there was a trap being set up at the park, he could find out instantly and then disappear before he was caught. Thankfully though, his days were uneventful as he saw nothing more than the normal day to day activities of regular people wandering the park.

When the day came, he payed special attention to the people, trying to spot who was a mutant and who wasn't. A couple girls stuck out like a sore thumb to him, seeing as their transportation left without them. One of them was obvious as she brought a rose back to its vibrant beauty.

Hmm, apparently she can bring things back to life. That can be a useful trait, he thought.

However, the other girl showed no signs of her power, but he vowed to keep an eye on her nonetheless.

Silas also noticed a guy beneath his tree, playing with a locket, which thankfully, wasn't shiny. It obviously had some meaning to the guy, but what the meaning was, he had no idea.

Two others arrived at the park as well, both with very colorful hair and easy to spot. They definitely seemed to want to be covert, which seemed backwards to Silas with their colorful hair, but eventually they reached a willow tree. After a quick glance around, they bumped fists, and one of them disappeared.

Immediately, that made Silas tense up. Was this guy a teleporter like he was? Does he disappear at will? Or was one a mirror image of the other, to throw people off? Regardless, Silas was ready to run or fight at a moment's notice, but needed to wait to see what happened next.


[System]
Age: 17

Bio: As the youngest of four, Jinayah has enjoyed some degree of freedom. She is a strange sort of princess, well-known for demanding boys' clothes since she was old enough to express it. While she will wear gowns on formal occasions, most of the time she can be found in specially tailored tunics and pants, down at target practice, or training in the yard with the knights. She is a bit on the spoiled side, which may be part of the reason she is allowed her freedoms and odd habits.

Other: Jin looks very much like her mother, especially in the eyes. This has made her father avoid speaking to her lately, which hurts.

[User]
Erick's smirk widened when Annalise seemed to concur the sentiment, he glanced at Uriah with whom Loreena held a brief interaction - she was free to indulge the festivities this evening, it would seem. The prince scanned Loreena's jewelled adornments as she described the gems as an aid in harnessing her power, before he looked to that which was wrapped to his wrist, a personal gift indeed.. magic and the soul were one, to him at least, so it was quite right that it had no place other than on his person, "to bond it to me is my honour" he affirmed, giving a thoughtful smile.

Erick flexed his brow and looked about as the last princess and the prince Vyarin arrived to the courtyard. Jinayah greeted them quite informally and made her way to Loreena who was in his company, as was Annalise, as she drew closer he could see she was a little disheveled with some smears of dust about her attire, which he found unusual given her status and the nature of the event, though he concealed his judgment on this observation. He gave a shallow but nonetheless gracious bow with her arrival "Princess Jinayah" he expressed warmly before glancing to the Prozdy prince too to acknowledge him before he arose. Vyarin also seemed quite out of place, if not moreso, which made Erick feel a little better - as he'd shifted to the table and appeared to reel back with the taste of the wine, he felt confident further still… perhaps the Prozdy people preferred the sap and fungi from the forests?

It would certainly make things a little interesting..

Probably not appropriate.

Whilst Loreena engaged the youngest sister upon her arrival, Erick looked back to Annalise - her veil had shifted and the pigmentation of the concealed eye was revealed, but he gave no indication that he had noticed and seemed to examine all features of her face as he spoke, "I think our own competition sounds like a good idea but…perhaps if not a little unfair" he drank deeply from the glass once again which emptied it - it seemed to be the mellow Astalian wine, and he was quite keen to partake of the robust Afdan beverage, "by what standards would you test me.. Annalise?" he made a gesture for her to walk with him to sit at the table, for he did remember why he was here. Sulhana simultaenously made her announcement, which beckoned all attendees to enjoy the abundance of food and drink presented for them.

The princess Sulhana was indeed a gracious and experienced hostess, but Erick was sure there was a sense of detachment, perhaps sadness in the way in which she expressed things - he understood he supposed, their lives were likely to change and far more greatly than that of any of the suitors..

Did she even have a preference? ..he wondered.

[Assistant]
"Now is not the time for mistakes. Now is the time for action. Do what you feel is best for your kingdom."

---

---

As each assembled before the great King, Alvaro was silent. He was observing each of them, wondering what it was like to grow up in their shoes, wondering if there could be any happiness with the cold breath of the enemy on their necks. They all had something in common. They were all on the list of destruction should they choose not to act. Alvaro wondered if he could go through with the lie. To marry the great King's daughter and pretend as if his heart did not already belong to someone else. The greatest of all fallacies and he questioned his own morals. How could he lead a kingdom and act so treacherously? His conscience continued to gnaw at him. More than anything he wanted to make his father proud, but he also had his own life to live. The great King had graciously invited them all to take the hand of one of his daughters and yet, Alvaro gazed at each beautiful princess and wondered how soft their hair was and how quickly he could braid it. To him, friendships and bonds lasted longer, and although he would no doubt be unable to marry one of them, he would ensure that an alliance would be forged in the shackles of truth.

The great King had offered a moment for anyone to speak, but his daughters presented themselves to each of the princes. Alvaro graciously accepted the beautiful gift from Loreena. Her bow made him smile. It was a sign of respect in his kingdom that equals bowed to each other, but also you bowed deeply to those of higher wisdom and age. His window of opportunity to speak with the great King soon passed, but he felt welcomed in the kingdom and would do his best not to upset any of the royal family while there. He turned to his lover and guard and smiled.

"I will speak with the King alone," he spoke in his native tongue, "please behave while we are here. We are guests and should act as such."

They'd been invited to the Court of Flowers. Perhaps he would get another chance to speak with the King alone, but for now he would retire to his chambers and freshen for the festivities that awaited later that evening. The Court of Flowers was sure to be as interesting as it sounded. Alvaro had observed each of the princesses and one had caught his line of sight. She was interesting and yet hadn't spoken at all during the ceremony. Alas they all seemed to disperse, even the princes and he was no exception.

"Do you think your father will be upset?" Nairo asked.

"My father will learn to understand and hopefully will accept you," Alvaro said, glancing up at Nairo as he sat on the bed.

"The King can be forgiving," Cairo stated.

"I know Cairo, but I must be careful how this is done. The great King could find it insulting, and the last thing we need is discontent between kingdoms. I will speak with the King alone, but be mindful while you are here, for we are not home. Use our native tongue to speak to each other, but no secrets. Understood?"

Cairo and Nairo nodded while Alvaro continued to get dressed. He wore a beautiful phoenix embossed garment that flowed from his toned form. A beautiful necklace adorned his neck and chest, the gemstone holding mysteries within it. The solid violet gem seemed to swirl specks of white and gold in its center.. Alvaro's earrings accented the beautiful lavender garment he wore and he stood from the bed examining himself in the mirror.

"You look amazing," Nairo said.

"The most fashion forward in the kingdom," Cairo stated.

Alvaro smiled and shook his head. He was the last to arrive in the great hall. The beautiful flowers made him think of home. He strolled in, and remained silent as he observed what was going on, not wanting to interrupt.


[System]
Looks:
6 feet tall, strawberry blond hair, slightly freckling, pale blue eyes, lightly colored skin
Personality: I haven't quite decided. Let's see how he develops, shall we?
Abilities:
light manipulation: This ability is fairly basic. It is what it is, the manipulation of light. This can be in any sort of attack. Light weapons can be created, and the light can be manipulated into illusions and into enabling it's user to hide.

Cody can at the current moment manipulate light in a way that enables him to see the world, seeing figures, objects and the like by light, whether it is the presence of light or merely the absence of light.

He can also manipulate light in a way that gives him some defensive a and offensive properties, but this ability is quite new and takes a lot of of him.

Essentially, Cody is learning what he can do, but it is not in leaps and bounds.

enhanced touch: whether this is a super power or merely an effect of Cody's blindness, this is never the less useful

enhanced hearing: again, whether this is merely an effect of blindness, this is beneficial and is more then a typical blind victim.

History:
Cody was born to what could be a normal family. Well, normal for them anyway. It became apparent quite quickly that something wasn't normal with him. His eyes were a pale, pale colour, perhaps the lightest blue you would see, and sightless. But the baby didn't appear to see anything wrong, and was a bouncing, bubbly boy. Off times, people would forget he was blind.

He excelled in grades, using what aids he had to complete school work, and to do everything he could. It became apparent that despite his lack of sight, he was not hindered. He could play musical instruments with ease, he could cook, he could do just about anything that a normal boy could.

He didn't see any hinderance, and as he grew, he began to find that images began to form, light seeming to swarm around him, forming the images of what was there. He did not know if this was normal or not, but it helped him to further his life, giving him a better quality as he began to realize how much of the world he was missing.

[User]
"You don't seem to get it, do you?" Cody said, rising, he put a wall between him and big boss. His bleeding, broken skin healing slowly. "I do not fear to die. Yet, you can burn. I can't. You are nothing but a man who hides behind a power he never truly had" Cody was well aware that this hideous man could break through his barrier, and so Cody was moving, swaying as he did so. Light, searing, powerful, blinding light, filled the room, burning and searing everything in its path. The walls began to erode at the sheer power of the light. A deafening sound like an explosion seemed to echo around the room.

Where Cody stood was the brightest, but if anyone could see through that light, they would find that there was no one standing there. It almost seemed like Cody's very being had explode, bursting out in a blast of light. His voice seemed to echo, as if coming from every particle of light.

"I seek to give time for Agent Caits to get what she needs, To expose what you, and this company did. What our own government has done. You are trapped here"

All at once, Cody seemed to be standing in front of the grotesque man, an odd look on his face. He brought up his clasps fists, glowing with light, and brought them into Big Boss's stomach.

"And I'm not letting you get away"

Quick as a quails wing, Cody was gone again. He continued to do this, coming at different angles, using different attacks, tryingn to wear Big Boss down with both his physical attacks, and his constant light barage.

---

Caits lost track of the times Gerswhin saved her life. She stil wasn't sure while Gerswhin was saving her, when she was part of the reason Gerswhin had been here. At Gerswhins words, Caits nodded, and she began to make her way back inside, knowing Gerswhin apparently had her back. She made her way back through the compand, and back to the data room. Anyone she came across, she shot, leaving them dead, or leaving them for dead.

She gathered whatever was left, downloading files, before retreating to her office. From under a draw, tapped there, she took a hard drive, before fleeing from the compound once more.

[Assistant]
Even Big Boss' immense power could not allow him to see through Cody's super-bright light. He shielded his eyes with his left arm, and took swings with his right at the swift light-user. In between physical and light attacks, Big Boss swung and swung into the air, attempting to find a moment to critically strike. That was not likely, considering the brightness that consumed the room.

The light itself did not burn his skin. In fact, it was like a road surface on the hottest summer day; his skin took the heat very well, and he bore the pain with an incredibly high tolerance.

"If you do make it out of here, do send my regards when she finds out not a single piece of data in this place is true. The truth is in my head, and it will die with me," he spoke through gritted teeth as he slowly figured out the pattern.

Pulse of light... punch.... punch... pulse of light... orb attack... kick... punch...

For a brief second, Big Boss opened his eyes wide, and though it stung and tears blurred his vision, it was more than enough to see the next move.

There...

Cody's next physical attack was met with a mighty, steel-like kick that broke through his shield and his ribs, puncturing and rupturing his lungs as the air was gushed out of him with the velocity he travelled. Soon, the light faded from the room as Cody flung to the ruins of the barracks the soldiers held their formation. There, Cody held the side of his body where it caved in. The next second, Big Boss was on top of him with an unarmed RPG in his hand. He swung it to the right and brought it down on Cody like a golf club hitting the white ball. Cody flew to the side amidst the explosion, and Big Boss walked out of the smoke, small shrapnel pieces embedded into him like sand on one's feet at the beach.

Big Boss stood and listened as he heard the helicopters flying by, and the explosions in the ambiance.

"Ah... sweet battle. I missed having a proper challenge. I wasn't always obese, mind you," he spoke as he moved, circling Cody beginning his monologue again.

"My ability is multi-fold, an amalgamation of powers that solidifies my capabilities extending the very limits of the human capacity, and then more. Nothing was difficult for me. I gained honours as the best military technical strategist, and resource management, but I was still known for my formidable strength. I had to gain weight and hold back my strength to cull suspicion of my being an Anomaly - not because I was afraid, but because I was smart and got whatever I wanted with being the most valuable asset next to the Anomalies themselves in Anomaly Research.

Why else do you think I am fighting you, assured that I will win?"


[System]
John Jorgen
Nickname/Alias: The Historian, Professor, John
Race: Julliak
Age: 672
Ethnicity: What's an ethnicity?
Gender: Male
Appearance:

In their natural form, Julliaks appear to be very very tall (about 9 feet) bipedal humanoids with gaunt features, as though their skin were stretched tight against their bones. They have no hair to speak of, no mouths, and natural skin pigment ranges anywhere between deep blood red to albino white. All their eyes are green. Joniminum is a particularly light shade of red (but not pink!). Of course, that's his natural form as a Julliak, but he spends most of his time in the guest-friendly human form he shapeshifts into. In his human form, John looks like a male in his mid-forties with receding black hair styled straight back. No matter the time of day, he always has a five o'clock shadow. This form is six feet tall, well built, and always with a friendly twinkle in his eye even when annoyed.
Clothing: Black suit, dark blue button-up shirt, black tie.

In The Mind

Personality: Studious, wise, friendly, and engaging. John loves people and science. Used to be whole-heartedly devoted to the Galatec cause but only because he kept himself locked away in his labs and remained ignorant to the effect they were having on the people they "helped."
Likes: Computers, science, history, humanity, culture, legends
Dislikes: Wastefulness, malicious intent, tyranny, animal abuse
Fears: That he won't make a difference, his rangers being lost to battle, sharks
Quirks: Likes to shake hands when seeing someone even if they've met before, straightens his tie a lot

Where They've Been

History: Born on home world. Liked science and the idea of progress. Joined Galatec for great benefits and access to lots of research potential. Came to New Earth, studied humanity's history. Became enamored with human culture. Bad stuff went down. Faked his death and stole morpher technology. Setup base with Samara.
Talents: Computers, robotics, galaxy's foremost expert on the Morphin Grid, not bad in a fist fight.
Hindrances: Not good at coping with loss
Powers: Shape-shifting. Julliak shape-shifting is not nearly as fluid or varied as other forms of shape-shifting. A julliak needs to design a form on paper and study the biology, obtaining an understanding of all biological functions of the design, and burning a lot of calories making the change. It takes a lot of time and effort.
Equipment: Classified

Bonus Round

Quotes: "It's up to you." "Time to be a hero." "In the proud tradition of humanity."
Theme Song: Maybe later
Aspiration: To be able to use his studies for the beneficial progression of people everywhere, and to be able to come home again.

[User]
Given that Oliver was the youngest of the chosen, Samara couldn't fault him for being unable to put this situation together on his own. They were simple questions she was more than capable of answering, but the fact that the questions were asked in such a mixed order did not do favors for her. This role—assisting John—had its upsides, but playing 20 questions wasn't one of them. Her jaw tensed and she forced a smile, "Oliver, you don't know if you can trust us, that's the idea," she said. Samara returned her ID card to her back pocket. It seems that it had gone ignored, or worse, no one was willing to believe that this wasn't a plot to expose them. "You're taking a risk and so are we—I just did."

Maybe it was hard to miss somehow, but there was no secret-keeping on their side of things. John was explaining everything relevant to the situation at hand and that included his old role within Galatec, leaving room for questions. Thankfully sparing her from a headache, John had handled the other question that he could comfortably answer, and left those that were not productive behind. He brought up footage, footage that she helped compile with glee, of Power Rangers from the past that stood together against overwhelming odds. From Mighty Morphin' and onward, the clips compiled just before the second Dinosaur-related team was crafted from a past mentor and a legendary ranger. Sadly, no one seemed to appreciate the effort, and they didn't appear to find any inspiration or courage from the videos linked to them. Samara didn't blame them after John put up that horrible autopsy video, one she had seen too many times already, but at least the other footage was pretty cool.

Jonah had spoken next and put things together pretty quickly. Her eyes narrowed slightly as he went on, and it took every ounce of her strength not to cut him off for even considering that John was a liar. She had worked with this man for too long to doubt his interest in ending Galatec. There may have been some intelligence behind that shoddy effort to assert some form of dominance over them, but Samara was not willing to humor the attitude. All that mattered was that he would fight against Galatec. His reasons were his own.

As expected, he ended up agreeing to do this just as Tommy had.

With that rant over, Clementine's panic was still active. She grabbed Jonah by his collar and seemed far too frantic to find self-control all on her own. After sinking to her knees, Clementine had begun to mutter to herself about the fate she was going to find if she returned. Jonah wasn't the shining example of what it would mean to be a Power Ranger, but he was right about one thing: There would be questioning, very intense questioning, about where they vanished to and what they saw. Galatec may choose to believe them, and they may get to return to their lives, but that was the best case scenario. It didn't sound like the greatest outcome they could hope for, but Clementine was already losing herself in fear of the consequences should she return.

Samara sighed and held up a hand to John that told him to let her handle Clementine. The assistant approached Clementine and knelt down so that they were at the same eye level. There was a pity in her eyes that wasn't there before. "Clementine, down here in the dirt is where you already are. You just don't see it yet," Samara said. "You don't mine that ore like everyone else but believe me when I say that you're just a warm body that has enough sense to do what they tell you to. At the end of the day, that is all you are to them, and that is all you'll ever be."

Clementine was one of the two she didn't want to involve in this. She was crumbling under pressure before she was even put in a position that placed her in danger. If this was going to be a constant for her—dropping onto her knees and seeking forgiveness from her Galatec overlords—then Samara may preemptively decide to return her and let her talk her way out of what happened. It wasn't out of spite; as said earlier, if they don't wish to fight not only for themselves but for others too, they can be returned elsewhere and try to get back to their mediocre, submissive lives.

"I've shown you my identification. John has agreed to mentor all of you and get you where you need to be to fight these people. Both of us have slaved to give humanity a fighting chance against Galatec, and we took a risk with the four of you. So yeah," Samara glanced at Jonah for a moment, then faced Clementine again. "Sorry we didn't get your consent. You didn't get to ask mommy and daddy for permission to help save the world. But we are desperate, our options are few, and at the end of the day John put his faith in you, even when I was in doubt. He sees what you are capable of, and he chose you—no one else came before you—he chose YOU—" Samara lightly poked Clementine's forehead, "—to give us our world, and our freedom back."

Samara returned to her feet, then extended a hand for Clementine to take if she chose to. "We're going to help you face them every step of the way, but I refuse to help you walk when you're happy crawling. Make a choice Clem," Samara glanced at Oliver,"and that goes for you, too. Say the word and I get you out of this. Don't trust us. Go back to scraping out a living at their heels."

Unlike John, Samara was not willing to let this self-pity continue before it became a serious problem. Clementine was killing any morale John and herself hoped to build by sinking so pitifully. This couldn't be the path for everyone, but if Clementine was wavering at this stage she would only let others down who would be counting on her.

"Or, join us, and create the hope you're looking for."

Samara would only hold her hand out for several seconds longer. Regardless if Clementine had considered anything she had said, or chose to stay in the dirt and moan about how life was so hard for her, the assistant would return to her computer and prep the RDS for a return trip should they want to walk away. Otherwise, she would return to combing the mines for Michael with the radar, who she hoped would add some much-needed strength to this shaky, incomplete team. Until addressed personally, there was nothing more she had to say. John could take it from there.

[Assistant]
"Oh... you really have studied up on us if you know I don't eat galatec food." Remarked Tommy, who did not need to be told twice to eat. In fact, he was so hungry that he ate the entire snack bar in record time, and drank half of the water bottle. Almost dying tends to make one hungry... as does undernourishment. After having scarfed down the food, he finally registered that Oliver had spoken to him as well. He was quickly distracted as well though, so that was fortunate. "Nonsense buddy, we both know you'd have likely died there... and I don't like seeing friends die!" He said, giving Oliver a big smile.

Watching videos of aliens getting dissected alive was a bit of a downer. However, it was soon contrasted by the glory of various power ranger teams! Those warriors sure seemed powerful and colorful. Tommy liked colorful, nothing more boring than monochromatic surroundings. Perhaps he would be able to decorate this place once they had all officially joined up...

However, once Jonah spoke, he quickly lost some of his demeanor. There was one thing that Tommy could not simply dismiss with a jolly attitude. "Well... you're right about one thing stoic analytical guy, we can't go back. Personally I don't particularly care, I can be happy wherever I am! But that leaves the question, what about our loved ones? We all know Galatec will come looking for them eventually."

Tommy fumbled around with a little metal dinosaur he had in his belt. Perhaps with a bit of the oranium he could create a mechanism that would make the eyes glow... and perhaps thinking of this would distract him from the possibility that his family might very well die...