[System]
Appearance: She has a dirty-blonde ponytail that reaches to below her collar, tanned skin, and is short, at 5'4" She has dark blue eyes and a permanently tired expression.
Age: 16

Personality: Maria is a manic depressive in the best sense of the word. If she still had coffee, she'd chug it all day long, but instead she stays awake with scrounged caffeine pills and whatever chemicals she's cooked up to keep her awake. Somehow, she's avoided poisoning herself, although it's honestly a matter of time. Benzedrine is a favourite of hers.

She's obsessed with improving the quality of life of the group in any way she can, which mostly ends up in her building everything the group needs, might need, might not need, and probably won't ever need. Whenever she gets inspired, she's off like a shot, fiddling and tinkering until she finishes her project, before heading back to her bunk and crashing and feeling sad.

Biography: Maria calls herself a border hopper born and bred, but she's lived in the US for her whole life. Whilst both her parents were illegals, if she had wished to be, she could have applied for a legitimate citizenship. She never got around to doing so, what with the apocalypse sort of ruining her plans of any normal life.

She grew up in a noisy, messy and pretty dangerous area, and she learnt a lot of things hands on. Her father was a mechanic, her mother a cleaning lady. One taught her metalwork, the other chemicals. She doesn't talk about them much anymore though, or her family, friends, school... Really, she doesn't talk about anything before she met the group. She has her reasons though.

Relationships: They're all dead. All of them. She isn't talking about them though. As she's the most recent inclusion to the group, she hasn't made any meaningful relationships with anyone, but there's plenty of time for that to happen.

What you originally brought:

The JRS (Junker's Rad Suit.) It's a kitbash of diving suit, hazmat equipment and American football armour, minus the power. She constantly tinkers with it and tries to make it better, and most of the time the welder gets pulled out, it's to do something to the JRS. She has a car door shield for it, but rarely uses it and woe betide anyone who touches it. She calls it Jessie. Nobody knows why.

Her machete. Nothing special about it; looks like it comes from an outdoors shop of some kind, although the red ribbon tired around the end isn't standard. It's a good quality steel blade, with a cutting edge that's still sharp and still painful. A bit grimy and a bit dinged about, but it'll cut a mutant to bite-sized-chunks if it needs too, and that's all she needs it to do.

Welding torch and mask: She's rigged it to a car battery to get the power she needs for it. It's the crucial part of her constructs, and she's constantly looking for more juice to hook up to it. Doesn't really work that well, and she has to hand crank the battery constantly, but she'll take what she'll get. Really. The mask is a full-face UV job that prevents serious eye conditions.

Skills:

Now We're Cooking With Gas: She's pretty handy with appliances and the breaking down and reassembling thereof. She has an axe made from a drying machine and a hatchet handle, for example, and has made a bed using parts of a car. She's also constantly tinkering, unless she's being apathetic.

F in Chemistry: A lie. She was good at chemistry. Whilst the really serious stuff is too complex for her, she knows that rust + aluminium filings = explosives, and that you don't want to be caught unprotected when someone lobs a canister of 2-chlorobenzalmalononitrile at you. She should know, she has some. Somewhere. She swears. Fuck it, she'll just make some more.

Step *Click* *Boom*: A slightly unhealthy love of explosives and the fact that she can't be everywhere at once means that she's make quite the set of traps. Like, a lot of traps. Landmines especially- she made one out of lego, a couple of shotgun shells and a microphone.

Waifish: She's short, does little physical activity apart from her surface trips, sleeps a lot, and weighs little. She doesn't need as much food as others do, full stop.

Power tools Are Never Dangerous: She's scary good with power tools and other gear you wouldn't expect a 16-year-old girl to be good with. Chainsaws, power drills, concrete cutters, blowtorches, and, of course, her welder. Shame there's so little power.

Fuck Off and Die, I'm Tired: To put it bluntly, she can be a massive asshole sometimes. Especially when she's tired, which is often. Because of this, she ends up swearing a lot, although after the apocalypse, nobody really blames her.

And There Was Much Rejoicing: She's seen too much death to give a shit about someone else loosing someone.Sure, she sympathises, but she's pretty harsh when it comes to death. She has empathy, it's just in a permanent state of torpor.

Waifish: Sure, she needs less food, but she doesn't exactly hit hard. Unless she uses her blowtorch, but then strength doesn't matter, as she gleefully points out. Before blowtorching your face off. Seriously, don't get in the way of that thing.

Sickly: Maria handles chemicals and materials that in a non-apocalyptic world would be used under much better safety precautions. Whilst her JRS has saved her from major radiation poisoning, she has skin and eye issues, as well as a nasty cough that sometimes crops up.

Other:
She has a bad tendency of slipping into Spanish whenever she gets angry, which means that she often speaks in an incomprehensible language (to the rest of the group,) for hours.

[User]
The latino was unsure if she'd made the right choice in who was the leader here. She wasn't really clear on the dynamics of the group, but even so, men were bad news, and she had good reason for distrust. Shame she had left her machete back on her bed. She settled, instead, for scowling at him and turning around, thumping her chest and looking out at what she could use for scrap and junk. No doubt the myriad of guns pointed at him would quickly leave him with the 'correct' impression.

Bench could be broken down into scrap. She pulled the curtain rail... Damn. If they were all chicks, then this might not have been such a big deal, but it looked like they'd need to waste valuable tarp on privacy. Anyway, behind was a few bottles of bleach, and a 'toilet,' made out of a ceramic seat, a bucket, and an upside down road cone. The smell wasn't as bad as she had expected but...

She unscrewed one of the bottles. Clorox brand. Heh. Not much left, so she emptied it all out into the bucket. Sure, the bottle had had bleach in it, but plastic scrap was plastic scrap. There was a lot she could use it for.

That, was when she heard the sound of a clicker. "We've got company," she said quietly, before carrying the plastic bottle over to her bed and tossing it in the locker at the end. Those could be scrapped too. Of course, that was not the issue here, as she picked up her machete, watching as a rat scurried across the area. A large rat. The kind of rat that could have a lot of rat kids, and all of them would be edible.

FOCUS HERE! She thought to herself, twirling the machete in her hand. "Maybe those guns should be pointed at the clickers?"

[Assistant]
Elijah was holding the knife down by his side, trying to appear as harmless as possible. It wasn't until the impulsive one of the group leveled a pistol at him that he had to restrain the rage. It was a mental self-defense mechanism that all US military personnel were instilled with: if someone points a weapon at you, you eliminate the threat immediately. Nobody probably immediately noticed the Army dogtags that hung around his neck (though they were lined with rubber to prevent them from clanging and being heard). But Elijah had to forgive her, because she obviously hadn't known many military people. The rule of firearms was simple: you only point a gun at someone you want to kill. Never use it to threaten someone. Instead, he took a deep breath and turned his face away slightly, so that he was not looking directly at the woman or her gun. He knew that with his Krav Maga training, he could probably disarm her before she got a fatally accurate shot off, but he didn't want to hurt, or be hurt by, anyone else in the room.

So with his face turned aside, head lowered slightly, he kept everyone in his peripheral, but tried to look both nervous and submissive; he was actually neither.

This time he stepped back while raising his unarmed hand, nearly falling through the threshold of the entrance he'd just walked through. He tried to get a glimpse of the handgun for any vulnerabilities and noticed that it was not of a caliber that had an abundance of ammunition lying around, like his own. 9mm bullets were the most commonly manufactured and used round before the apocalypse, so the same was true after. And since one of the last survivors he'd met was a gunsmith who'd been pretty adept at reloading bullets, Elijah had no shortage of the 9mm caliber bullets, at least compared to most people.

Both his sight and hearing were not that good, so even though he was closer to the real threat down the sewer passageway, he did not perceive it until the latina did. Thankfully she was quiet about warning the others, and as soon as she did, Elijah stepped backwards through the door and turned to the right, making it evident to the woman with the gun that she was not the reason why he was now raising his knife.

"Close-quarters only," he whispered to them, just in case one of them wanted to be less than stealthy while taking on this relatively mild threat. "And shut the door."

Without waiting for the others, except for possibly the latina, who was the first of the ladies to hear it, Elijah dropped his bag of one canned item at the door and moved swiftly but quietly down the corridor toward the oncoming creatures. He'd encountered them before, many times. The two things that saved his skin before was his martial arts training, and not being where the zombie-things thought he was/would be. So Elijah closed on them before they could get closer to the shelter. Even if he was lost, the shelter would be safe.

[User]
Colette's eyes barely flickered from her work when she saw a man appear at the door and clear this throat. By the time the others confronted him, Colette had noticed his only visible weapon was a knife. She put down her needlework and blinked, wide-eyed. There was no reason for her to be involved. Several of the other women had guns, and were brandishing them accordingly. Colette remained frozen. One way or another, they would get rid of him, and she wouldn't lift a finger, nor would she be expected to. Everything was well in hand.

That was what she thought before she heard the screeching and clicking.

Colette didn't need to be told what the source of those awful noises was. In her brief time on her own, she had seen more of them than she could bear. And they were not threats she could be complacent about. Not without devaluing herself in the eyes of those around her.

She hastily stuffed the half-knitted socks into her backpack and extracted a knife held to the inside by a strap. It wasn't particularly sharp - she used it to cook, not to kill. Those who paid close enough attention would realize she didn't have a proper weapon. At least, she hoped they would.

She didn't have to fake her trembling. Never before had she been in a direct confrontation with these creatures, and she had no intention of changing that. She looked around, furrowing her eyebrows in mock confusion, as the sounds grew louder. The man - as well as several of her companions - were already reacting to the approaching threat. Colette could let them handle it for her - couldn't she? She was small for her age, and they probably thought of her as a kid. It was only natural for her to be inexperienced in combat. Despite her trembling, she took a small step forward. The most important thing was not to appear to be a coward. If the others thought she was willing to learn, they would probably be less harsh on her for her initial failure.

Of course, if the others failed, all she could hope for was to run. She bit her lip. No way would that happen. She had been through too much to die so suddenly.

Why did she always have to be so unlucky?

[Assistant]
Despite her lack of strength, Maria had found that killing clickers was actually extremely easy, especially when armoured. They might be fast and brutal, but they relied on sound, and were predictable. As the man turned around to face them, she walked forwards, scraping the tip of her machete against the ground in order to attract them onto her. Although most were focused on other sounds, one turned, arms outstretched, screeched, and rushed towards her.

Or, more specifically, the noise. Just like in the bullfighting ring, she thought to herself. Not like she had ever sen a bullfight, but she knew what happened. The bull charged, the matador moved, the bull swished past the cape. Just like that, the clicker swiped at the noise, and she calmly jumped out of the way, before lashing out with her blade, hitting it in the back of the neck and avoiding the growth at the front of it.

There was a spray of blood, and she averted her face, but the creature simply whirled around- the blow not having been a killing one. Keeping silent, Maria carefully circled around it as it clicked and clacked, before lashing out again at the same place she had done so before, feeling the blade bite down into its spine, the creature howling, but lying on the floor, incapacitated.


[System]
Age: 23

Appearance: Dimitri is a tall, muscular young man, his physique stream-lined and chiseled from years upon years of arduous training and physical exercise. His face is considered 'handsome', with a clearly defined jawline, and strong cheekbones. A minor scuffle could be seen dusting his face, a natural dirty blonde, the exact same as his hair - which is naturally cut short to his head, to avoid anyone gripping it in a fight. His eyes, however, are a dark blue, almost appearing black in different pieces of sunlight. Multiple long, pale scars on evident on his torso and back, with the most prominent one being the three deep, jagged marks scraping across his chest and down his abs. Generally wears a thick, form-fitting, dark-colored long-sleeved shirt, rugged jeans, and combat boots, along with a leather jacket thrown over it, sewn in with Kevlar. Can never be too careful, and he's pretty used to cold and hot temps.

Species/Occupation: Human/Hunter

Background: Dimitri was born in Moscow, Russia, underneath two war-weathered parents; Aleksandr Kozlov, and Marie Kozlov. His father was a veteran from the Spetznaz forces, while his mother was a former soldier in the Marines, having been honorably discharged after a grenade ended with her left arm being torn to shreds. How the two managed to find love in each other, Dimitri would never know; while his father was strict, gruff, cold, and incredibly ruthless in the training of Dimitri, his mother was soft, kind, and gentle, always there with warm treats and cold bottles of water. That's another thing...his training.

Aleksandr Kozlov was both a Spetznaz veteran, and a former Werewolf-Hunter, having to retire from both due to old age, and PTSD. While this made the man quite brutal, it also made him force Dimitri to follow into his footsteps - and not for a bad reason, either. Werewolves - specifically, feral ones - were dangerous, this Dimitri knew from a young age. At first, up to the age of seven, he didn't know what he was training for. His father always made him do pushups, squats, and sprints down the snow-frozen road whenever he was awake and not eating/hydrating, always stopping and limiting the repetitions so that it was just under enough to not have any effect on Dimitri's physical growth. Weapons training and close quarters combat had already began, back when he was six.

Pistols, assault rifles, shotguns...he was a crackshot, naturally skilled in any firearm that was brought before him. Obviously, he was kept to smaller, less destructive weaponry, as his relatively small stature - albeit big for his age - would make it incredibly difficult and inefficient to train with. Krav Maga; it's basic stances and attacks were taught to him as his 'main' chosen fighting style, although it was more along the lines of his father forcing it upon him. When he turned eight, he was brought on his first 'mock mission', which wasn't a mock mission at all.

His father had tracked down a wandering, feral werewolf that preyed on cattle and smaller children that would wander away from their parents, in the park. Seeing his father rip open the werewolf's chest, and give him the silver knife...Dimitri was confused. Sorely confused. But when he saw the corpses of the children, he plunged the dagger down without hesitation. That was the start.

Years passed, and Dimitri was trained with the brutality of a Demon from hell. He became an immensely capable marksman, a master of Krav Maga, and extremely competent and lethal when it came to the art of fighting with melee weapons - he began taking Werewolf Hunting missions at the age of twelve, going for the Werewolves that was blatantly harming others due to lack of mental awareness, or general insanity and love for violence. Life continued on like this, with Dimitri becoming a strong, intelligent, brave young man that did what he had to do in his forced line of work. His mother had passed away due to an illness - something that affected Dimitri greatly, and seemed to inspire his father's fiery ire even more. Finally, the man keeled over from a stress-filled cardiac arrest, on Dimitri's twentieth birthday.

Ever since then, Dimitri has been travelling the globe, always on the case whenever reports of wild werewolf attacks sprung up, or whenever mysterious sightings or murders breezed the grapevine.

Relationships: Thomas Young...Dimitri's partner. They met in Alaska, while Dimitri was hunting a group of feral Werewolves. It was an...interesting predicament, with Thomas managing to stop Dimitri from executing an innocent female Werewolf that had been planning on escaping her wild, out of controlled friends. Yvette was picked up, as his second partner, as they were leaving the frozen state.

It snowballed from there.

[User]
Everything went as expected. People poured into the bar, both familiar faces and curiously unknown ones. Anton was at full speed too. Already. While it certainly took some strong juice to get her going, it never took long. While picking up the glass of cheap booze - "Thanks a bunch, cutie!" - Jesse decided to keep an eye on her situation. Always payed off to stick to the drunks, always came with lots of opportunities.

"Picking on people you think are weaker than you, again?"

While she didn't exactly sweep the room, her sense of smell and hearing got her a pretty good idea about who of the pack participated in the lil' monthly get-together, but somehow she still had missed picking up on Fayth. Odd, she thought, before the full extend of the blondes little 'poking fun/insult' hit her. Causing her to grind her teeth for a brief moment, before she put up the most sickeningly sweet and obviously fake smile.

"Somebody's gotta pay the tab, right?"

Her retort was anything if not odd. Confusing for anyone who didn't know her, no doubt. Jesse loved to poke fun at how uncomplicated it was to simply beat some poor sod into the pavement and take their cash, when the other pack members tried to live a genuine, honest life with a secure income like normal people do. To the average person she'd just seem like a careless thug thriving in the utter absence of the public law in Greyville, but to the pack she was a special kind of pest. One that didn't bother to fit into human society and shamelessly abused her unfair advantages to her personal gain. It was a thorn in everyone's side, specifically for those who masked their true nature and worked hard for their paycheck. She never bothered to hide her mugging deeds either, and often enough described them with a certain pride, just to rub it in and annoy the others even more. For Jesse, there was nothing negative about picking on weaklings. Survival of the fittest in its up-to-date form, as she liked to argument.

Despite the carefree and self-ironical answer, it gnawed on her. The whole woman gnawed on her. She had planned to get back on Fay for a while now, for the beating she received. All it took was an (un)lucky encounter at night...preferably with two other betas, if not three. She had just to work out who'd qualify for the job and how to rile them up against the omega. Not an easy feat for someone who is generally making enemies left and right.

Looking after Fay for just a second, Jess noticed Mori after completely missing her arrival as well. She made a mental note to pick a place that didn't put her back towards the door next time and gave her a respectful nod during a brief moment of eye-contact.

When the bleeding guy entered the bar, she barely reacted. The intense smell of large quantities of blood didn't leave her completely unphased, but she managed to behave and not show it. Letting off steam earlier helped a great deal, too. Contrary to the general awe the bleeding man seemed to inspire, she payed him an impressed whistle. From one blood-splattered person to another.

The night was still young and full of opportunity, and Jess was not nearly lit enough to pick a fight with someone her own size yet, so she decided to sit tight, sip cheap vodka and eavesdrop on Fay and Mori for the time being.

[Assistant]
Thomas

His beer finally arriving to it, taking a long gulp before stopping and gasping for breath, he looked around and more people were giving him glances or even worried looks. He simply shrugs it off, he did however, raise an eyebrow at how some of the patrons began getting a bit more fidgety after seeing him, well specifically, his arm. "Probably the moonshine." he thought to himself before taking a quick gulp of the beer.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a familiar figure, though could barely recognize her because of the beer or the loss of blood, eitherway, "Oh, Yvette, is that you or am I starting to see things?" he asked her outloud with a wide grin, "How's it goin?"

"Ты полный отстой." he heard from a Tall Russian man, with a really thick accent, "Is that Dimitri? No way." he utters but then gets a light slap on the cheek followed by, "Go to the hospital."

"Well, hello to you to Dimitri, got even bulkier last time I saw ya', how is that even humanly possible?" he asked, still maintaining that stupid grin on his face. "This little scratch, I'll get it checked out soon, lemme just finish my beer" he said to him, but leans in and whispers in a serious tone, "Did you notice? Some of em' are eyeing my arm and even getting fidgety."

A grin formed on his already smiling face,
"Hah, fucking with you man, course there's no Wolves in here eh?" he said finally and finished the last drop of his drink, he get's up then stretches, and he also notices the blood spots and gives a bigger tip than usual. Right before leaving, he notices Fay, waving his injured hand at her caused the blood to smear on Dimitri's back, Yvette's face and a random customers shirt, bowing a quick apology to them, he quickly ran away and says to Fay right before, "Well, uhm, sorry I'll be leaving you with the mess, there's a tip on the table."

After saying that sentence, Thomas runs out of the bar, hearing what sounded like a whistle towards him before hitting the door.

Right after leaving the door and losing his balance, there was a beep that came on his phone, a message, but with Thomas being out for the count, he couldn't check it.

[User]
Taking his sweet time to get to the bar, Kalib walked with a pop song beat in his step and in no hurry to join the others. The Californian embraced the chill of the night air, savoring its freshness and relative familiarity. "The guys should be having a blast by the time I get there." He thought to himself, ticking off the names of his fellow pack mates as he spotted some dark drippings on the sidewalk. "Or, maybe the "fun" is just getting started. I really hope this wasn't Jesse again." With a sigh he began to jog his way to the bar, hoping to god that a fight hasn't started when a man came crashing through the bar door. The scent of blood overcame Kalib.

"Whoa!" He exclaimed, dodging before the bloody man fell on him. Sure he was used to seeing guys literally falling out of the bar drunk off their rockers but what the hell?! "Hey, are you okay?" He questioned, careful not to step on the stranger or get blood on himself. "Say something, dude!"

For a moment he glanced into the bar window and spotted Carlson and Mori --relieved the alphas were there. His eyes quickly scanned to find Jesse at the bar and thankfully not looking like she was the one to bloody this guy at his feet. Kalib turned his attention back to the guy but ready to jump into the building for some help.

[Assistant]
"Whoa hey!" Yvette yelped as Thomas had attempted to walk himself. "Don't be stupi-" She was about to grab onto his shirt collar, but instead someone had caught him. "Uh..." Maybe what Thomas was rambling about was true? Her Uncle was right... And he was far from being sane. She immediately ran to her ally's side, yanked him away from the other male and dipped her head down. "He's in my care, sorry for the trouble."

She cleared her throat, gave the man a long stare, and shook her head. "Uh, fuck. I need a med kit, because there's no way he's going to survive a ride to the hospital like this. Do me a favor, go inside and start screaming or something." Yvette propped him up at the wall and removed her jacket so that she'd be able to tear a part of her shirt to at least delay the bleeding slightly while whoever had so decided to help would actually do something.

The phone in her back jeans pocket buzzed, making her raise a brow and check real quick before scoffing and setting it to the side so that she would be able to focus on her injured ally. "God damn... You really fucked yourself over." She murmured, shaking her head lightly as she wrapped the torn piece of cloth over his wound.

"Please hurry up with the kit?"

[User] Kalib let the woman take her bleeding friend from him and nodded. "Right," and headed inside. He recognized the black-haired bartender and ran to her. "Hey, call an ambulance. Some guy just fell outside and he's covered in blood! His friend it out there with him but he really needs to get to the hospital, and fast." Keeping his voice calm, he tried not to make anyone panic. He told himself in his head that the guy will be okay so long as 911 comes.

[Assistant]
Dimitri scowled once he saw the guy ask for the ambulance, rather than getting a medkit, as asked. Maintaining his temper; which he was rather easy at, the Russian got up from where he was leaning on the wall, nearby, moving towards the bar's counter. Easily sliding over, he quickly located the red and white medkit, underneath the counter's tabletop. Grabbing it, Dimitri slid back over the counter, long legs quickly striding him over to where his two accomplices were leaning against the building, outside.

His sunglasses were back on, hiding his eyes, but it also allowed him to see easily, despite the darkness from the nightsky. Crouching down, Dimitri handed Yvette the first-aid kit, before taking a few steps back, so that he wouldn't get in her way. First-aid was definitely not his forte, and he knew that Yvette had training in it...most-likely from her delusional Uncle. "Dumbass..." He muttered underneath his voice, once again, but it was unknown on who the insult was directed towards.


[System]
Age: 25

 Gender: Female

 Race: Naga (attempting to transition to another race through magical means)

 Class: Artificer

 Personality: Fieri Angharad is haughty and opinionated, and almost religiously believes in the superiority of magic over all other things. Fieri Angharad has spent decades working in a secluded university, away from all humanoid contact, and is exactly as desperate for affection as that implies. Beneath a thick veneer of contempt, Fieri Angharad is close to a child in terms of practical experience and romance. For some odd reason, Fieri "Diamond-Tail" Angharad insists that everyone refers to her by her full name, nickname and all. Thanks to a hostile environment outside of her birthplace and an inability to cope with it, Fieri is ashamed of her current state of being, and is seeking to change it as soon as possible. Due to this, Fieri gets flustered if her most prominent physical traits are exposed or accentuated.

 Fieri was born in the bustling town of Cartus Magnum, located in the western portion of the nation of Ithillin. Fieri's parents found work as porters and washerwomen in the prestigious university that largely encompassed the town's workings. Cartus Magnum University was a mage's college dedicated to teaching practical magic and hard sciences, and held a stable of fantastic teachers to facilitate this. People from across the continent came to the town almost exclusively to either work for or study in the university, and Fieri's family was no exception. Fieri's father was, rather controversially, a tenured Senior Wrangler, who very narrowly avoided being fired for an ill-advised fling with Fieri's mother, a migrant washerwoman. Unfortunately for both Fieri and her father, Fieri's mother abandoned the both of them almost as soon as she was born, moving on without even a word of warning. With no knowledge of how to raise a child and no wife to do it for him, Fieri's father did what he always did: let the university handle it. And so, Fieri's upbringing was brought entirely into the hands of the university's servants, professors, and students.

 Fieri spent almost the entirety of her life within the confines of the university. Educating the young Fieri was a pet project of most of the university's faculty, who found an unceasing audience in the cheerful naga. As Fieri grew, so did her wealth of knowledge. Mathematics, philosophy, theology, herbology, and artificing all opened their gates to Fieri. Thanks to her father's extensive connections with the university and Fieri's minor status as a staple of the university's live-in entertainment, Fieri was afforded the faculty's level best in education, for no charge-- after all, any money taken in for her education would go right back to her father.

 At the tender age of 18, a startling idea crossed Fieri-- she could be learning to have a job! Startled and mesmerized at the prospect of having to work to earn her daily bread, Fieri nervously opted to follow a career in artificing-- utilizing advanced magic to enchant mundane objects into powerful tools. The idea of making her job trivially easy without even needing to expend too much mana was immensely appealing to Fieri, and she threw herself into her studies with gusto. Fieri studied like a madwoman, egged on by her father, and very nearly graduated at the top of her class at the age of 24. With her magical potential unlocked through rigorous training and studying, and a bevy of spells and enchanted objects at her belt, Fieri... promptly attempted to return to her life of lazing about the university and looking smugly at the students. It was at that point that her father gently but firmly encouraged her to go find a job elsewhere, and politely informed her that, if she continued to stay at the university, she would be arrested and convicted for vagrancy. With no small amount of bitterness, Fieri moved out of the university, and set off into the world. Fieri now wanders aimlessly, searching for odd jobs and helpful servants.

 Equipment: Fieri Angharad is equipped with a variety of self-made magical tools. The weapons underneath are poor-quality, but the enchantments on them are made with love. Fieri's arsenal is as follows.
* Staff of the Diamond-Tail: a university-provided magical focus, that allows Fieri to store and release large amounts of mana. In effect, it is a battery, for intensive magical works. Thanks to the wonderful efforts of the university's engineers, this staff is also capable of drawing mana from ambient sources. In broad daylight or in the light of a full moon, the Staff of the Diamond-Tail regenerates mana very slowly. The staff is also quite sturdy and hurts to be hit with. It is currently filled with several days' worth of stored mana.
* Knife of Lacerations: A standard household bread knife, enchanted to unleash a blast of concussive force exactly the size of its blade on impact. It's useful against unarmored, unexpecting targets, but nearly worthless against armor.
* Bag of Holding: Fieri's thesis project. This is a simple leather satchel, enchanted to magically shrink down anything placed within it. Even thought it is about the size of a traveller's pack, its carrying capacity is about the size of a shipping crate.
* Mana Battery Kit: The mainstay of Fieri's repertoire, this is one of the only things that cannot be made by an artificer. With this advanced piece of magitechnology, one can handily replicate the effects of the university's staffs in a smaller and less powerful form. The kit takes any stone, metal nugget, or gemstone and fills it with mana. These mana-filled minerals can then be inserted into an artificed object to make them usable for non-mages. The more valuable and conductive the material used, the more mana the resulting battery can contain.

 Abilities: Fieri's magical powers are based around utilizing mana in its raw and pure form. These abilities are relatively expensive to use mana-wise, but can also draw from her staff's reserves.
* Mana Bolt: Fieri is capable of projecting a bolt of pure mana at her opponent. The bolt is relatively effective against uncovered flesh, and causes moderate to severe burns on contact. Against large amounts of mana, the bolt reacts violently and explosively.
* Miasma: Fieri is capable of venting large amounts of vaporized mana into the surrounding area at once. The mana, while not strictly toxic, is almost unbearably hot and temporarily interferes with any sources of magic. Prolonged exposure to Miasma results in severe nausea and disorientation. Fieri is not immune to the Miasma's effects.
* Artifice: The gross sum of Fieri's life and Fieri's true calling, this is what Fieri is best at. With a generous amount of mana, a targeted object, and some imagination, Fieri can enchant anything. The more valuable the object is, the easier it is to enchant. It takes half an hour to a day of concentrated work for an Artificing to be completed, and the resulting object must be charged with mana to function properly. What Fieri can enchant is limited only by her scientific knowledge and imagination-- if she can logically conceive of a way to make a ring capable of teleporting its wearer, Fieri can enchant one to do it. Researching and developing new enchantments takes time, mana, and plenty of test subjects. A list of enchantments Fieri currently knows follows.

	+ Emit Force/Absorb Force: Phenomenally simple, this enchantment is designed around converting mana into directed kinetic energy, either to work against incoming blows or amplify them.
	+ Emit/Absorb Heat: Exactly as simple, this enchantment is designed around emitting large amounts of heat or absorbing large amounts of it. With some more sophisticated supplementary enchantments, the weapon appears to emit flames or bolts of frost from it, though the effects are the same.
	+ Discharge/Absorb Mana: This enchantment is explicitly required on every Cartus Magnum Artificer's products, for safety reasons. Upon being discharged, the enchanted object immediately releases all stored mana in a single blast that, at higher levels, overloads other magical items and causes extreme burns. Upon its Absorb function being activated, the object briefly draws from any source of mana directly connected to it.
	+ Feather/Burden: A simple and efficient enchantment, used widely across the continent. When active, the enchantment actively lifts itself (or pushes itself down), making carrying heavy objects significantly easier. In most cases, Feather is attached to armor.
	+ Grow/Shrink: A strange branch of enchantment explored by few, the effects of these enchantments are directly tied to the current size of the object affecting it. When activated, anything touching the enchantment will be either shrunken or grown to a predetermined level. At the same time, both its volume and mass change, allowing for even heavy objects to be carried with ease.

[User]
Al nodded at the doctor's words. He understood that alcohol was good. A trained medical professional only confirmed that it could cure outside injuries, not just inside ones.

The swordsman immediately bought a very large, very strong bottle of whiskey, slipping it inside his bag.

"I think it's like a tomb or something. I knew some guys that cleared out the upper floors the other month; they made out with some decent loot. It's got like traps and stuff, but if you're looking for cash we can head towards the lower floors." he explained to the dog girl. Or was it a fox girl? Al made a mental note to ask after he'd secured a paycheck.

"Yeah, I'll join. It'll be an adventure!" he told Marc, emphasizing 'adventure' by pounding his fist into his hand, as the mental note was buried under thoughts like 'That tail is rather fluffy' and 'I hope Haldric's tomb doesn't have terribly many snakes'.

[Assistant]
"A-adventure!" Sergeant Wykes waved about in a dizzy fashion. "Okay miss Paladin. I'll join you." Sergeant Wykes offered, looking down at her arm. She tried moving her arm, but the act was met with more pain than anything else. In other words, the splint was effective. The knight attempted to pick at her arm a little bit. She wondered what it would be like should she have an itch- not that it mattered quite yet.

Sergeant Wykes attempted to reach to her back, untying the knot right off her neck as she moved the arm a little bit out to stretch. "Oh... it's all better" Cristine giggled in drunken confusion. She hiccuped again and began shadowboxing at the air.

"Thanks bird lady"

[User]
Tanya cleared her throat. Good, the soldier woman was healed, and everything seemed to have quite nicely quieted down. And indeed, there were many who seemed rather interested in what she had to say. Even the drunken woman, who would hopefully sober up before they got going. Tanya was not to keen on taking a drunk into a dungeon, especially for a mission as important as this. To be fair, the lack of exposure to the deepest point of Haldric's Prison-Castle meant she was not sure exactly what evil lurked there, but regardless bringing someone who was drunk seemed a poor idea. However, some people sobered up quickly, a fact that Tanya was glad for in any situation.

"The Prison-Castle of the Mad King Haldric is not too far from here," she began, "And within it, a terrible evil lies. There is a reason goblins are drawn to it and it's filled with mindless undead. There's something at the bottom. Something acting as a beacon to foul creatures like that. As a Paladin of Reon, it is my duty to eradicate evil such as this. However, many of my usual allies are unable to accompany me. With two exceptions."

She paused for a moment, glancing from Sophia to the Mayonite Paladin and back. "That is why I have come to this...

Tanya paused for a moment. She hated taverns.

"... Wonderful place. In order to gather a party to reach the final floor of the Prison-Castle and slay the darkness there. I will only take a small amount of wealth for the Church, all else may be divided between each of you."

Indeed, Tanya certainly did not want for wealth.

"Sophia, our scholar and nun, will inform you more of the Prison-Castle."

[Assistant]
Not a sound was made as Fieri's leathery tail slithered along the confines of Haldric's Prison-Castle. The halls ahead, barren and looted long ago, were dimly lit by still-burning torches helpfully placed by the castle's previous plunderers. The gloomy light emitted by the torches playfully flickered along the floor, revealing conspicuously missing tiles. On closer inspection, the tiles appeared to be pressure plates long-ago uprooted, their mechanic innards looted and sold. A brief splash of inspiration struck Fieri-- the forester said something about this castle being filled with traps. All I need to do it loot them, and I'll be rich! An evil glint shone in Fieri's eye, as a whole range of mercantile opportunities opened themselves to her. Fieri slithered on.

The nondescript, winding walls of the Prison-Castle gradually began to reveal more and more of their creator's personal tastes. Though the castle's ancient traps had been made almost obnoxiously conspicuous through either previous adventurers' markings or their mechanisms obvious absence, they were becoming alarmingly common. Every few yards, another shattered or removed pressure plate would cross her view. Whatever the Prison-Castle's previous occupants did, it was clear that they had to do it carefully. The sheer density of traps on this floor spoke volumes of the Mad King's paranoia. Fieri, harrowed but unwilling to turn back, occupied herself by brainstorming. Fieri, being an entrepreneur, knew that she couldn't earn any customers by simply offering services, she would have to offer goods as well. A proof of concept could go a long way to ensure that she would be worth the money she wanted from them. To do that, she would need to Artifice. To Artifice, she needed ideas. It was at that point that Fieri activated a cleverly-hidden spike trap.

In retrospect, Fieri probably shouldn't have been thinking so hard on what enchantments would be useful, especially given where she was. It was only thanks to dumb luck and the misfortune of a previous adventurer that Fieri avoided impalement. Instead of meeting hard, rusty steel at the end of a spike, Fieri was instead struck with the corpse of a leather-clad humanoid, rotted far beyond the point of recognizability. For a moment, Fieri was dumbstruck. Then, like a bloated float rising from the depths, Fieri emitted an animal noise, mindless and pained. What started as an idiot's croak grew quickly into a shrill scream, and Fieri flung herself backwards until her back slammed into the wall. Fieri, overcome with panic, curled up into the fetal position, and began sobbing hysterically.


[System]
Alias - Miss Mountain (she prefers friends to call her Dana or MM)

Age - 16

Powers - Geokinesis, or earth/rock manipulation. The power of her Geokinesis is controlled by her emotions. If her emotions are fiery or powerful than the proportions of her earthly abilities are measurable on the Richter scale. Dana is trying to obtain more control over her powers and emotions in fear she'll harm her friends.

Weaknesses - She is quick-tempered and has "rocky" emotions. If she loses control of her temper or emotions, she will put herself and everyone in her surroundings in danger. She can trigger small earthquakes with her anger and utterly destroy buildings near her. Also, as a result of her Geokinesis, she has an accelerated metabolism, which basically means she must eat three times more a day than the average human being. Hunger and anger or synonymous for her.

Personality - courageous, sarcastic, fierce

Appearance -

Miss Mountain wears an armored suit that glows the color of Obsidian rock, and the suit — besides being flame-resistant — can channel her emotions fluently, for the betterment of controlling her geokinetic powers. She is also equipped with a visor the is holstered in a hip compartment in the suit that expands from a small paper-clip sized piece of technology to a full visor that fits to her face to cover her eyes. The visor highlights all objects that her earthly abilities allow her to interact with. She lets her blonde her fall on her shoulders and seldom styles it up in any respective hairstyle unless it's for a special occasion. She is 5'6 and despite the masses of food her body requires her to digest she only weighs 125 pounds, because most of it is burned for energy.

BRIEF Bio - Dana never knew her parents, she was raised in a Metropolis orphanage most of her life. She never met the stereotypical cruel orphan owners; in fact she was treated quite well and enjoyed her time among the several different orphanages she had to alternate between after she unknowingly sank the first three she stayed at halfway underground.

She wasn't aware of her special abilities until age 10, and by that time she'd already been taken in by foster parents, who were extremely compassionate of her and she loved them dearly. She tried to hone her special powers and got better and better at them until things turned for the worst when her foster parents died in a car crash. Angry at the world, the entire city of Metropolis mysteriously shook in magnitude. It felt like what would be considered an aftershock to an earthquake.

As she aged she ran into continuous problems with her abilities. Eventually, on her fifteenth birthday, she saw a young team of heroes living the dream. They were adored by fans after bringing down a villain in Star City. She idolized them and traveled to Star City to see them there. She joined them after proving her worth with her geokinesis. She got over her paparazzi-like approach to her teammates after a while as she matured into a successful hero; she became part of the people she idolized. After her lack of attention as a child what with being a foster kid, she was ready to become the center of attention a one of the heroes of Young Justice.

Notes - she is kind most of the time, but is a completely different person in combat. She is a relentless fighter and very protective of her friends.

[User] Miss Mountain was lurking nearby and managed to hear the entire debriefing of the situation, fortunately for The Question. She felt she was coming off as weird and creepy with the silence and stealth in her walk so she cleared out her throat before speaking, "What are Flash's enemies doing in Star City?" That was the first time her teammates heard her voice.

[Assistant]
At the Question's comments towards her, which came off almost as the verbal equivalent of a slap to the face, Kendra felt her hands tighten into fists, before she relaxed them again. She waited as the Question explained the situation before speaking again. "No, Question," she said, coolly. "You obviously do have a superpower. Your power is that every time you open your mouth, everyone in the room gets the powerful urge to throttle you."

It was then Miss Mountain made her presence known and Kendra glanced round at the girl. "Maybe they all got sick of being thwarted by the Flash and are trying to, err, 'make a living', in a different city," Kendra suggested. She grimaced slightly at the thought before glancing back at the unconscious Ditto. They must have done a number on one of his clones for him to end up like that.

[User]
'Left jab... Right cross... Jab, cross, hook, cross, roundhouse... Stay focused... Stay relax-'

The thought was cut short by the ringing of the alarm. Beck sighed as he wiped the sweat from his brow, and stepped away from the bag. 'Always something,' he thought to himself. Not many knew he kickboxed. It wasn't a technique he employed often in combat, simply because he didn't have to. Why bother, when he could simply whack an opponent with a chunk of ice? That said, it wasn't entirely a hobby; he took up a form of hand-to-hand combat at Ice's request. It was, however, extremely satisfying. He removed his gloves and handwraps as he ran to his room to suit up. The alarm could mean anything, he had to be ready.

Now out of sweats and into costume, Beck skidded out of his room and ran down the hall towards the monitor room. He noticed the fallen ditto and other heroes gathered around through the frame of the door. He rushed in during someone yelling. It sounded like Kendra, but he wasn't sure.

"... No, Question, you obviously do have a superpower. Your power is that every time you open your mouth, everyone in the room gets the powerful urge to throttle you..."

 Oh boy.

 Having missed the Question's analysis of the situation, Beck stooped down beside Ditto briefly, before realizing that the others would have checked vitals before he got there. Standing back up, he looked around at the faces that were actually gathered around; Kendra was there, as well as the Question, Armory, Miss Mountain... All new. Their real names weren't coming to him. Didn't matter right now. Nothing -or anybody- would have knocked Killian out from there, so something must have happened to one of his clones. Could that happen? He knew Killian felt their pain, but Beck had never seen him knocked unconscious from it...

 "Maybe they all got sick of being thwarted by the Flash and are trying to, err, 'make a living', in a different city," Kendra suggested.

Thwarted by the Flash? Were his enemies attacking Star City now?

"If something's going down, we need to get out there now. And, you two. Cassandra, Question. Play nice."

[Assistant]
Gabe tried his very best not to swagger into his room. He'd already failed to keep his smile from looking like a Joker impersonation. Combine that with a stroll, and his teammates would think that something had happened to him, that he was sick, that he'd gone off the edge. If there was something Gabe Harlan didn't do, it was swagger, especially after that kerfuffle with Granny; that old lady sure had a way of draining her prisoner's energy... by the end of it they're left looking like Sleeping Beauty.

Gabe laughed, then gasped in shock. What was happening to him? First he's strutting, then he's laughing at his own terrible jokes? If there was one thing Gabe knew, it was that Sleeping Beauty was no joke. One of Granny's best operatives, she'd given him and Fenrir more trouble than most -- that woman went to great lengths to please her master. Gabe shuddered. He was thankful to find focus replacing his too-good-humour.

He put his costume on, every part but the helmet, and checked his wristpad, an upgrade courtesy of Jin. Opening the program he'd installed to it, he checked his readings.

BLOOD PRESSURE
120/80

BODY TEMPERATURE
122º F

HEARTRATE
72 BPM

RESPIRATORY RATE
20 BPM

RADIOACTIVITY
0 Bq

Satisfied that he was safe to go out into the field, Gabe ran to the monitor room, carrying his helmet. Frowning as he passed an unconscious Ditto, he entered the monitor room. He immediately felt the tension in the room, and the frown deepened. Ditto's reason for taking a nap, he could easily understand; assuming that this particular Ditto was Killian, then the only possible explanation would be that something had happened to one of his clones. That, or he got lost and thought the wall was the way into the monitor room. However, the tension was less easy for Gabe to wrap his head around. What could the tension possibly be about?

Charles, Cassandra, Tea, that new girl, Miss Mountain, and Beck were in the room, and, defying all laws of physics, Gabe's frown deepened even further. He probably looked ridiculous. But he didn't care; his concern was elsewhere -- where was Jin? She should be here by now.

"If something's going down, we need to get out there now. And, you two. Cassandra, Question. Play nice," said Beck, and Gabe suddenly understood where the tension was coming from. Great. The team know-it-all versus the team scryer. Wouldn't that be a battle to behold?

"Sorry I'm late," he said, breaking the silence, "But as Beck said, we should probably go. The guys that aren't here yet will catch up." He turned to walk out of the monitor room, speaking over his shoulder. "Beck, could you fill me in while we make our way to wherever we're going?"

Beck nodded. "You got it, boss."

Gabe shook his head inwardly. That was professional. What a great example for the only senior member in the room to lead.

Gabe laughed. Yeah, he needed to work on his leadership skills.

[User] Tea sighed as Cassandra (Okay, that's too long. I'm calling her Cassie. If she'll let me) and Mouth started arguing. Luckily the others, she assumed, had begun to arrive. While she had yet to meet any of them, one of them, identified by one man as Beck, had identified that same man as Boss. That and his demeanor clearly put him in charge. Standing up, she stepped over to Cassie and placed her hand on her shoulder "Hey, ignore him. As sad as it is, his brain is useful for mission. Off mission, we can always kick his ass" she said, offering a smile and chuckle, before rezzing her armor "I'm ready when you guys are"...

[Assistant]
Dana clicked a button on her suit's belt and the suit responded by forming a semi-helmet on her head, spurring a crimson visor over her eyes. Dana's uneasiness faded away as she began to feel in control; her vision was red as a result of the technology that covered her peripherals. The visor scanned the area for objects subject to her geokinetic powers.

"I was born ready," Miss Mountain said in response to Tea with an obvious joking tone, but she did mean it. She was as ready as ever, actually. She couldn't wait to get back in touch with "the good ol' earth". The terrain that she knew and loved. She'd only been separated from the ground for a mere half hour, but just thirty minutes seemed like a whole day to Dana. On most occasions when she'd been separated from contact with the ground for more than only two hours, she cuddles with the earth and kisses the ground immediately when her feet are back on the ground.

Dana felt her stomach growling and immediately scurried to the refrigerator where she subsequently wolfed down a beef sandwich that she had stored in there. With her huge appetite and the fact that they were going on a mission where she would end up using her powers she had to eat. She looked like a tiger on its prey as she finished the sandwich in a matter of twenty seconds before walking back over to the team.


[System]
Race: Bean Nighe
Gender: Female
Age: 22
Occupation: Unemployed, robs graves for a living.

Personality/Interests
On the surface, she seems like a very easy person to talk to, someone who you can trust, someone who knows a lot about the world. On the inside, though, Mysaren just desperately wants to be accepted by people. One of her biggest fears is people not liking her. Mysaren can be seen as somewhat manipulative, lying and cheating to people often to get her way, although this is something that she is trying to fix. She's definitely not above dirty tricks in order to get what she wants, or sometimes needs. She's very good at feigning confidence, which is how she does her "job", by either brute force or pretending that she's supposed to be in area's that she's not supposed to go. Despite this, she's definitely loyal to those she cares about, and definitely tries to help her friends in family in any way she can. Mysaren is somewhat hot-headed, and has a very quick temper. On the inside, she's a very sensitive person, though. She takes a lot of things literally, and doesn't really appreciate jokes or teasing at all.

She cares immensely about her family at home, and her greatest fear is something bad happening to them. Her entire life has been spent trying to support them the best she can, even stealing and cheating in order to get money. She's often very cheap, not liking to spend money frivolously, even if she has money. She has a bit of a mistrust for anyone with large amounts of money as well.
Appearance
Mysaren is a rather tall women, having the look of a warrior. She's muscular, with a chiseled, prominent jaw and square face. She has short, curly black hair, which barely goes past her ears, although her bangs cover her eyes if not pulled back. She has dark brown skin, which is marred with various scars. Her eyes are deep-set, and blue eyes that look like the deep end of the pool. Freckles cover a large amount of her face, and are lightly sprinkled on her shoulders.

Details
Body build: Muscular, well built.
Hair: Short, curly.
Hair color: Black.
Skin color: Dark brown.
Eye/Iris color: Dark blue.
Height/Weight: 6'3, 185.
Notable Features: Freckles, her arms and legs are somewhat covered in scars.

Clothing Description
She tends to wear long, dark purple robes with a gold trim around the edges, and a hood. Underneath, she wears a black tunic, a normal pair of pants which are brown, and a belt, which is covered in various small pockets and bags. She carries a larger, messenger bag that's made of black leather and has several runes carved into it. She also wears thick, black leather gloves, and rather strong, worn boots, made for travelling.

Equipment
A spell book and several other books, a few healing and mana potions, various materials for her spell work, a shovel, a lantern, and a bottle of oil.

Weapon(s)
Her wand, a knife, and a small sword.

Powers
Due to her years spent living in the darkness, she has a heightened sense of sight.

Abilities
She is able to tell when someone is about to die, although she can't get specifics on who/why/how. It's usually just a loud, wordless muttering in the back of her mind.

Talents
Hand to hand combat.
Petty thievery
Her persuasive power.

Magic
Deals primarily in Necromancy. Talking with the deceased, being able to call upon them in times of battle.
Sessamaru - "He seems level-headed, but I am envious of his rather joyous personality."

Historia - "A naive little bird. I do hope she at least knows enough to stay out of trouble."

Saha - "Never much liked snakes."

Katelia - "An annoyance."

Julio - "He knows how to keep his mouth shut. I can respect that."

Azzrix - "Pompous ass. I can't help but respect his ability to kill rich people though. Keeps me in business."

Margaret - "I don't much respect greediness, but she's at least a good companion otherwise."

Naida - "Rather nice. Pretty cute as well."

Drubbins - "An idiot. Lovable, but an idiot."

Tahira - "One of them brainy types, and not so good with people. Kinda painful to talk with her."

Rimau - "He has a very similar sense of humor as me, and he's pretty friendly. I like him a lot."

Claire - "Rather shy, but not bad to talk to. Could be a good friend."

Viggo - "I can't stand him or his music."

Rouen - "Some pretty rich boy who thinks he knows how the world works because he's lived in a nice castle all his life."

Falen - "I respect him a lot. He kinda scares me sometimes though..."

[User]
Rimau was about to look further into the job about the golden mask when the paper was suddenly taken off the board by some kid in fancy robes. He attempted to position himself in such a manner that he could continue reading, but no such luck; the kid was simply too big for him to not obscure Rimau's vision. He screwed up his face and grumbled for a brief moment. Alas, if he could see through solid objects, not only would he be the world's greatest marksman, without a doubt, but this sort of annoyance wouldn't happen.

Soon, however, the kid suddenly turned around and looked Rimau directly in the eyes, the invisible 'force' of which prompted Rimau's own eyes to widen and his the line that was his mouth to upturn in a more friendly manner. It was then he realised something; the kid was actually a woman. A square-jawed woman, sure, but still a woman. Those were some thick robes. The sort of robes Rimau would die in if he wore them.

Deciding that you can always get more done in life if you're nice to people, Rimau decided to clamber down off of his stool and make his way over to the lady; as fun as it was to keep rivalries, most of the time it tended to be impractical and juvenile to insist on a professional rivalry with a specific individual, especially if the job was well-paying. Merely competing with other mercs and hunters was a fact of business. But 'sportsmanlike' rivalry? Laughable.

"Heyo there, kid. Couldn't 'elp but notice y'took down that mighty interestin' job proposition off the wall. ...Can't say I've seen y'round 'ere before, either." He said as he approached the lady, that weird muffle effect the Tavern seemed to have turning on. He stopped to look her over, see if she was the trustworthy type. She was certainly a lot taller than she looked, even taller than most humans he'd seen, who all tended to be taller than Rimau anyway. Made them easier to target.

Raising one brow, he looked over her scars; clearly, she had experience with fighting, then. You don't get the sorts of scars on her face from cutting yourself while shaving... not that she'd need to shave, but still. Her attire seemed to suggest a magic user; magic and him didn't get along too well, but its practitioners had their uses. Their flashy tricks were very distracting for most people, and Skrin'Ko was indeed bound to him by an enchantier. Very nice fellow, he was.

After a few seconds, Rimau decided he may as well introduce himself; after all, a name doesn't convey much. But he kept his hands close to his body, in case she was the twitchy kind.

"...Th'name's Rimau. Rimau Ekoy-Rimau Eng-Dasku, but that's, uh... well, y'don't wanna know m'full name. Believe me, some'un once asked for it, an' lemme tell ya... uh, never mind. What's your name, kid?" He asked, smiling a little.

[Assistant]
Mysaren quirked an eyebrow when the lizard man came over to her, and she finally looked him over. He dressed... he dressed in an interesting manner, with large goggles, and bright feathers on the side of some leather vest. His skin was a rather drab looking green, and from the cracks, he was probably very old. She smiled when he spoke to her finally, looking at the paper in her hand again. "Ah, well, I'm new. I... I travel a lot," she said finally, not bothering to make up some elaborate lie. No need. "I was hoping to find some work around here."

He looked weathered, the type of person (lizard?) who had seen a lot, and she could respect that. She craned her neck down to look at him, and even then she couldn't see that much. She was at least a foot taller than him, but she felt that maybe it would be a bit rude to kneel down, so she decided not to. "My name is Mysaren," she said. "Pleasure to meet you, Rimau. It's alright, I don't...don't need a full name." Full names were perhaps too much. Hell, telling people her name in the first place made her itch, but she would look suspicious if she didn't.

"Actually, Rimau, I was just about to go looking for someone who may assist me on this mission, yeah? Seems dangerous, and while I won't say that I'm not a good fighter, I could always use an extra hand. Were you also interested?" Maybe going on a mission with a strange lizard she just met wasn't the best of ideas, but he seemed trustworthy enough. Besides, if he did betray her, well, she could handle herself pretty well. She could probably pick him up if she truly wanted to, and she knew her way around a sword, as well as magic.

Mysaren always preferred using magic, something that most folk didn't like, especially the type of magic she used. Necromancy was rather frowned upon, considering that bringing people back from the dead as nothing more than zombies to be controlled might be a bit of a problem for most people, but she hoped that Rimau didn't have any prejudices in that department. She was rather excited to go on a mission, and a good companion could be the difference between life and death for her.

[User]
Rimau stood and listened to Mysaren's proposition carefully, with his arms crossed and his eyes squinting with focus to let her know he was listening.

"Well, as it 'appens, I was mighty interested in that particular employment opportunity." He replied, curtly. "An' from the looks o' yer, I'd bet m'grand-pappy's soul that y'were some kinda magic specialista."

After he said that, he idly sniffed at the lady by sticking his long, reptilian tongue out for a brief second. It was half-unconscious really, an old habit of his. When a Zizz met a new colleague, it was considered normal to sniff at them to show that they trusted them enough to disregard any blood they may have on them. Which was quite often.

Unfortunately for Rimau, though, the scent he picked up off Mysaren's robes made him wince slightly. She had the stench of death coming off her, there was no doubt. And not just the figurative stench of a killer, but a literal stench of corpses.

"...Necromancy, p'raps?" He asked, in as friendly as polite a tone he could manage. If she was, it'd be understandable if she wanted to hide it, but Rimau had nothing against Necromancers. If anything, he thought zombies made for an excellent barrel of laughs on a dull day, and that's ignoring his religious beliefs.

"...Skills like that work 'specially well as a distraction." He continued, with interest. "...Lemme tell ya, some kids get real touchy when they see dead folks walkin', an' that makes fer a mighty effective distraction. From, say, the barrel of a nice Rifle trained at their 'ead." He said with a slightly devilish grin, pointing at Skrin-Ko's stock on his back; if he was right about her being a Necromancer, it only seemed fair he let her know what his preferred form of combat was.

"I think we could work well t'gether."

[Assistant]
It took a moment for Mysaren to decipher Rimau's accent, before she nodded. "Yeah, I dabble a bit in magic." She said, watching as Rimau sniffed her curiously. She noticed the wince and mentally slapped herself. He smelled the corpses, she could tell that much. "Yeah, Necromancy." She thanked the gods that he didn't ask why she smelled like that. If anyone found out about her robbing graves, well, she was in a crowded tavern. She could try to run, but she wouldn't get far, and that made her feel might claustrophobic.

"They work for more than distractions," She said, glad that Rimau didn't seem to mind the necromancy thing, "They're not bad at fighting. Not great, but you know. Yeah, most people get a bit.. skeeved out by it. Never understood why." People's concerns and disgust with the idea of death confused Mysaren. Maybe she just grew up around so much of it, maybe her blessing/curse made her desensitized, but she saw nothing wrong or morbid about death. Death was just as natural as life to her, the two forces working together instead of in opposition.

Mysaren smiled, noting the rifle on his back. It definitely looked dangerous, and Mysaren wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of it. "I do think that we would make a rather effective team, no? Yes, we could split the reward." They'd get plenty from the mission, and then she could split her half of the reward, and everything would be fine. Yes, she could make this work.

She considered telling Rimau about her gift, the muttering and screaming in her head, but decided against it. He didn't need to know that, at least not right now. A power like that could be exploited, and even if she thought that she could take on Rimau by herself, she wouldn't know what to do if someone else in the tavern heard, someone bigger and stronger with more friends. Someone who would use her power to do bad things. Someone who woul- she decided to not think anymore about bad things happening to her.

"I'm ready when you are, chief."


[System]
Runan Isles Savior Corps

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Established in the wake of Westwel's destruction, the Runan Isles Savior Corps is by no means the most impressive program on Illun, but it's well-funded and well-run by a few survivors of Westwel's own Corps.

Character Info

Name – Besca Darroh
Age – 35
Affiliation – R.I.S.C.

Originally from Westwel, Besca Darroh has been around Saviors her entire life. Her grandfather had helped fell the Modir who would become "Dragon," and her father had headed Westwel's burgeoning Savior program. She met dozens of pilots, watched as their connection to the Modir ate away at their minds and bodies. Other nations treated their pilots like a resource to be burned through, kept at arm's length in all but public affairs. Besca, however, went out of her way to engage with Westwel's pilots and even piloting candidates, caring after them with a degree of humanity which was, frankly, missing in the programs of other nations. Her methods were derided as frivolous and naïve by her peers, but the pilots appreciated it, which, to her, was all that mattered.

She lost many things in Westwel's fall; her home, her father, her friends, and no small piece of her faith in humanity, but ironically enough she didn't lose her job. When Runa took in her country's refugees, and subsequently acquired their first Savior, they came to the last living member of Westwel's program for help in founding their own.

Nowadays, Besca doesn't often involve herself in the politics of the program. Technically speaking she isn't even chief of operations—a position occupied by the Runan government—but rather, her duties revolve around "pilot maintenance." While she hasn't lost her desire to make life easier for the pilots, she isn't nearly as incorrigibly optimistic or sunny as she once was.

Character Info

Name – Dahlia St. Senn
Age – 18
Affiliation – R.I.S.C.

Dahlia was a toddler when her home was destroyed by the Modir, spirited away from Westwel in the arms of a family friend. She spent the first fourteen years of her life in the quiet, lakeside town of Hovvi. She was, like many children, absolutely enthralled by the Saviors, so when she tested positive and was whisked away into orbit, Dahlia thought her dream had come true. She missed her friends, and her adoptive father, but this was her opportunity to do something important. This was her chance to help.

She had no idea.

Runa's Savior, Dragon, had not been phased by a single pilot until Dahlia entered the cockpit. With its potential finally unleashed, she was able to end invasions within minutes—which was crucial, because she couldn't remain connected for much longer than that before the giant's neural regeneration reached critical levels.

Dahlia has become Runa's WMD, and as such, she actually doesn't pilot as much as she did before R.I.S.C. acquired its two other Saviors. Besca has become rather protective of her, not wanting to risk putting her in situations where she may be forced to over-exert herself, or risk being overtaken.

Character Info

Name – Hadrian Ghaust
Age – 38
Affiliation – R.I.S.C.

Hadrian Ghaust is Helburke personified. He is strong, unrelenting, stoic to a chilling degree, and utterly devastating in the cockpit. Ghaust is also a veteran pilot, having commanded the Savior Marrowman in service of the Helburken crown for 20 years, and despite a phasing speed so slow that he rarely deigns to use his magic at all, he was well on his way to becoming one of his country's most accomplished pilots.

However, Ghaust's priority has always been the fight against the Modir, and Helburke's clamor for political power is something he viewed with silent disdain. To him, using Saviors to settle diplomatic disputes isn't just wasteful, it's shameful. So, when Helburke ordered him to bring Marrowman to bear against the newly-risen Runa's Dragon, he refused. When, then, he was given the ultimatum of going through with the duel or forfeiting his rank and position, he looked his general in the eye, ripped the pilot's medal from his collar, and left his home behind.

Overnight Ghaust was made a Pariah in Helburke, and his home turned against him. He was forced to leave, and though several foreign programs sought him out, Ghaust denied them all, even passing up a pilot's seat in Eusero. Instead, he went straight to the burgeoning program in Runa, who was more than happy to take him.

Character Info

Name – Safie Calhan
Age – 22
Affiliation – R.I.S.C.

R.I.S.C.'s newest pilot, Safie has spent the past year earning her place at Dahlia and Ghaust's sides. Born and raised in Runa's largest city, Queenshand, Safie was one of countless starry-eyed youths who dreamed of the day she'd get to step inside the cockpit of a Savior. A positive connection-test put her on the path, but it was the months upon months of personal training, rigorous study, and nights spent running sims until dawn that pulled her ahead of the other aspirants. With a phase potential speed just above average, she was a perfect fit between Runa's other two pilots.

While Dahlia has accrued something of a heroic mythos about her, she's often reclusive and hesitant to make many public appearances. Safie on the other hand loves to meet the people she's helping, be that with personal visits, answering fan-mail, or simply getting her hands dirty cleaning up after the messier invasions. Some see her approach as distinctly Euseran, but Safie didn't become a pilot for the attention, she became a pilot because it was the right thing to do.

Character Info

Name – Lucis Abroix
Age – 25
Affiliation – Casoban, on loan to the R.I.S.C.

Casoban's sole effort to save Westwel, while ultimately futile, planted the seeds of goodwill between it and Runa. Casoban has always lived in the influential shadows of Helburke and Eusero, but allied with Runa, the two manage a strong presence on the world stage.

As a show of solidarity, Casoban has even begun sending a Savior of its own as backup to Runa's invasions. Enter: Lucis Abroix.

Lucis is perhaps one of Casoban's most beloved pilots, despite having only a handful of deployments to his name. Handsome, personable, with a poetic flare and the voice of an angel, many people back home already consider him the face of Casoban's Savior program—a role he is more than happy to play. Lucis makes regular public appearances, seemingly never missing an opportunity to espouse his love for the beauty of the world, and his burning desire to protect it from the Modir.

[User]
There were few words more terrifying to hear from a pilot than: "Trust me", but Besca didn't object, because there also few words that could make her feel as helpless. Trust her, she thought. Well I don't have much of a choice.

She watched as Blotklau took a few starting steps forward, only to stop as Quinn…taunted her? Besca balked, she wouldn't have thought Quinn capable of insult. Then again, up until last week, she wouldn't have thought her capable of swearing, either. It was a crass jab, and, frankly, about as blatant a play as she'd ever seen anyone make.

And it seemed to work like a charm.

"Oh, I get it," Roaki growled in her head. "You think making me mad'll get me to kill you quick?"

Blotklau hunched, her hands flew out wide and her claws tore unreal holes into the air. Swiping her arms across her chest, the axes flew into being, blades bursting to life with white fire.

"Tough fucking luck! I'm gonna pull you apart slow and careful! You're not gonna die 'til I say you can die!"

The girl screamed fury, but even with her voice in the comms, Blotklau's roar was louder. The Savior broke into a mad sprint, low and nimble, closing the distance with frightening speed. With only a hill between them, she reeled back one of her axes and threw it in a whirling arc for Ablaze's leg, poising to lash out with the other.

[Assistant]
Quinn's right arm flew back to the cannon. She didn't want Blotklau—good GOD that thing was terrifying—to get caught in the crossfire. She hoped she had the trajectory right. Aimed at the ground. Aimed at the axe. And then, as it was nearly upon her, she pulled the trigger. There was a loud crack as a bloom of white light rent the soil, sending the axe screaming into the air. Clods of earth sprayed out, pinging uselessly against the advancing horror of Blotklau.

But that wasn't the point.

It all worked according to plan. The kick of the cannon—the sheer force of the shockwave—exploded so close to her that she was sent rocketing into the air. She spared just a moment to check behind herself and adjust for landing before looking forward again. Good, she'd only cleared a valley between two hills. Hoppping out of the crater she'd left, she huffed out a shaky breath and swore quietly off of comms. "I can't believe that worked."

She'd taken some breathing room. But she knew from the footage she'd seen that Blotklau could cover that space in the blink of an eye. And the way it had run at her had only reinforced that. She clenched her jaw tight, jagged teeth scraping against each other with a sound like falling stones. She couldn't get too far away. Not until she phased. She'd even gone too far just then. The less she did that, the better.

She tensed her muscles to dodge. Blinked. Recalled.

Remember, don't watch my hands, watch me. Watch my body, watch my eyes. Don't try to figure out what I'm going to do, I'll tell you. You just have to listen.

"You won't be killing anybody like that, kiddo. Who taught you to throw?" Keep her talking, keep her mad, keep her predictable. She hated this, and she hated herself for doing it. But it was better than the alternative. Anything was better than the alternative. She counted the seconds as they ticked down. Phase. Phase already.


[System]
Age: 15

Godly parent: Artemis

Background:

Joanne is a half-wolf, half-human child of Artemis fashioned out of the bones and flesh of a dead she-wolf, and imbued it with part of the Goddess' spirit. Of course, Artemis couldn't keep the baby girl she had created, but she did know of a good family for her. Soon a little girl baby was found at the doorstep of and later adopted by Scott Fountain, Alaska State Police and Michelle Fountain, Scott's older sister, and a practicing veterinarian.

Joanne lived in the city of Lakes, Alaska. From an early age, Joanne seemed to have a special bond with the outdoors. She could handle a rifle with ease, shoot a bow with an unbelievable level of accuracy, and loved to hike and camp with her dad and aunt. She was a slightly average student but struggled with learning disabilities that often frustrated her. But on the athletic field and rifle range, she really shined, particularly in running, and cross-country skiing. By middle school, Joanne was successfully competing in state archery, biathlon and cross country skiing competitions, and there was serious talk of her going to the Olympics someday.

Joanne was always easy going, and she had a few friends in school. But she really didn't hang out too much and generally did better with dogs than people. She often helped out at her aunt's clinic and nearby animal shelter. When not working, studying or competing, Joanne preferred to spend her time outside on long hikes or camping. It was during one of her hikes that she found a lone gray wolf cub clinging for dear life to a small log in the middle of a cold stream. Headless of her own safety, Joanne waded into the stream and plucked the cub from danger, suffering a torrent of licks from the very grateful cub in the process. Taking the cub home, and with help from her aunt, Joanne nursed it back to full health. In the process girl and wolf bonded. Joanne named the cub Smoke after her gray and white fur.

At first, Joanne's aunt and father wanted to return Smoke to the wild as soon as possible since Gray Wolves do not really make good pets. But this wolf was clearly different, for it took Joanne's commands easily, and became surprisingly well domesticated. It was as if wolf and girl were made for each other and Joanne's aunt and father eventually relented.

It was the summer of Joanne's second year in high school that her life changed forever. Returning from an early morning walk, she could see smoke rising from where her house was. She then heard multiple gunshots. Joanne and Smoke rushed home to find the house on fire and her father and aunt torn apart and left for dead in pools of their own blood.

Falling to her knees in grief, it was Smoke's growling that shook her out of her grief to notice some sort of monster rushing towards them. Smoke leapt at it, but was batted away. The monster lunged towards Joanne, and she barely managed to roll out of the way of its claws. Grabbing her hunting bow as she rolled, Joanne came up on her knee and in one swift motion nocked three arrows at once and let them fly. The broad hunting arrowheads ripped into the monster's throat. Surprised and moaning in pain, the monster took a step away from Joanne, only to find itself struck again and again by a quick succession of arrows. Soon a cluster of arrows was in the creature's neck. The creature reached up to try to pull them out, but each time it did, it was replaced by another fired from Joanne's bow. Eventually it was just too much and the monster crashed to the ground, dead.

After taking a few deep breaths to calm down. Joanne knelt before the now dead creature to make sure it was truly dead. She had absolutely no idea what it was, but she blessed her decision to bring her bow with her that morning. Smoke seemed ok, perhaps only her pride was hurt from getting batted aside

Smoke bound up to her mistress and gave her a quick nuzzle, as if to ask if Joanne was ok. She was not. Joanne turned to what was left of her family and broke down crying. Smoke sat next to her and leaned in a bit to comfort her mistress. Wolf and girl sat this way for what seemed to be a long time before two female Hunters appeared. They had been sent to rescue Joanne from that monster, and were stunned to find she had killed it alone. As gently as they could they could, they informed Joanne that she was in further danger and she needed to leave, now. Sirens could now be heard in the distance, probably the local sheriff and the fire rescue services, the hunters realized. Glumly nodding her assent, Joanne bid farewell to her father and aunt. The two hunters pulled Joanne to her feet and with Smoke trailing closely behind, all four disappeared scant seconds before the first fire truck arrived at the burning cabin.

Powers:

Skin of Nature: Wild animals will take no notice of Joanne and she can move through underbrush with ease, and with high degree of silence and stealth. Joanne will not leave any tracks unless she wishes to.

Natural Hunter: Joanne has the predatory instincts of a gray wolf, making her highly skilled in hunting, tracking, and reading how "prey" will react. Joanne's senses are enhanced to canine levels. She can see in the dark, track and differentiate between different scents and has enhanced levels of hearing.

Alpha Female: Joanne has the ability to communicate with and command canines of any species. She cannot command police or similarly trained dogs, but they will generally be indifferent to her presence.

Weapon or gifts from godly parent:

Joanne has a modern compound hunting bow that she can shoot with a superhuman level of accuracy. She received it as a birthday present from her father last year. The woman behind the counter said it would be perfect for Joanne.

Note: Smoke is Joanne's friend and companion out her own free will, and Joanne would never dare attempt to "command" Smoke unless circumstances were dire. The two share an empathic link and know each other's feelings. Though she appears to be a regular adolescent grey wolf, Smoke is smarter (same as an Australian Shepard), and can endure more punishment than a normal wolf.

[User]
After the Dryad went off with smoke, who he thought was just going to have to get used to him, he beckoned Joanne over as he spotted Lilith.

"I say the three of us sit together and see who join. I mean we are the newest I believe." He said as he smiled at Joanne and walked over to a table. He waved at Lilith to cone sit with then and then at Chiron before a cloud nymph flew over with a plate and dropped it in from on him with a cup filled with a green liquid.

"Oh wow this looks like the herbal tea I used to get and my favorite!" A pile of fruits was on one side and on the other was a meat that had been smothered in a sauce with mushrooms. Syrus began to dig in and listened to the conversations around him.

[Assistant]
As he ate he began to feel light headed. He tried to shake off the feeling but to no avale. He looked around and didn't see Lilith or Joanne but he did see people staring and then he heard a few screams.

Mist had rolled in and taken hold of Syrus as the screams began. The mist levitated him off the ground and began pouring into his body through his mouth. Once it had stopped his staff appeared in his hand. He then lifted it and then as if stone where his feet he struck the air with the bottom of it. His hair turned a shock white and he blinked but when his eyes opened again they swirled with fire and mist. As he began to speak his voice came out as if through a megaphone as well as alot deeper.

"The doors of death closed and giants slain. Gia put to rest and demigod's won fame. God turned mortal and emperor's gain. All mean nothing against his name. Woke by harm against his wife, his wrath will bring end to life. To be stopped the new moon must rise as the son of the owl earns his prize. Luck shall suffer defeat as two sides of the same coin meey. the whisper shall fule the fate of us all, as she brings gods to call. Forks in the journey many and long only the mist can hear the true song. The final act as truth once told come to gather at the start of it all. Shadow's Crest shall bring egress, as long as retrieved at the guardian's request. Defeat is certain if one does die so be certain to not lie." The prophecy spoken Syrus floated down and stood by the table he had been at. A torch kinda like his staff but old and wooden appeared in his other hand. He slammed it on the ground and flames traveled down the length to the ground then along ground. Once there it split and traveled to other demi-gods in the crowd. Two of which were the girls he met today. The flame travel up there body and then to their palm where it seared there. An image of a flame now emblazoned.

"Gather ye heroes emblazoned by the flame of choice. Forge your path and fulfil the prophecy! You are my chosen, the path I choose to see, the torches that will light the future from darkness." The second staff then burst into flame and dissolved into ash. Syrus for the second time today collapsed. In the hand that held the burning staff was now a flame seared into his skin.

[User]
@golani@JrVader

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Lilith was eating with the girls of Aphrodite when Syrus went into his act and if it hadn't been for the reaction of the others around her she would have thought it an impromptu play.

"The doors of death closed and giants slain. Gia put to rest and demigod's won fame. God turned mortal and emperor's gain. All mean nothing against his name. Woke by harm against his wife, his wrath will bring end to life. To be stopped the new moon must rise as the son of the owl earns his prize. As the chronicler inspires the king to fall, the whisper shall fuel the fate of us all. Forks in the journey many and long only the mist can hear the true song. The finale act as truth once told come to gather at the start of it all. Doors shall open before the fall egress made at the call. Defeat is certain if one does die so be certain to not lie." He had said and like most oracle his words as much a riddle as a poem.

It was obvious by the repeated references that this was an elder and they had a connection to a past war; "What else was new in the world of the mythical?" she thought.

Not one to panic Lilith pulled her notepad out of her pocket and put it all down word for for word before time altered her memory of it.

It was while she was writing her notes her memory was nudged so she sought the source of her inspiration.

If she remembered Zeus once stripped Apollo and Poseidon of their divine authority and made them work for Laomedon for rebelling against him and if she was recalling correctly Apollo was stripped once more and made the servant of a Shepherd. She was sketchy on detail at the moment probably due to all the excitement but she knew she was going to find the way to scratch the itch.

Then she read the poem once more and saw a connection once more; "Gaia had a half giant son with Poseidon named Antaeus, temple of skulls, wrestling matches, and Far to the west of the the Carthaginians and was interrupted in her thoughts by a tingling sensation in her off hand. At first she thought that the pad had cut her but when she looked saw the flame mark and wrote Glyph Quest.

[Assistant] Isaac could only stare as the Mist swirled into the dining pavilion and enveloped and possessed Syrus and he spoke a prophecy. Most of it made little sense to Isaac, but a few things stood out as he rushed to help Syrus again. "Okay, so I think we're dealing with Ouranous waking up again, if I understood those first lines correctly," he began as he propped Syrus up. "We just won a war against the Giants and Gaea and closed the doors of death, but with Gaea's defeat, we woke up her husband, Ouranous, who had been chopped into a thousand pieces and thrown into Tartarus by Kronos, but if Kronos can come back from being chopped up, I assume Ouranous can as well, and he was definitely not someone you want to make mad according to the old stories." He contemplated the rest of the prophecy. "I'm not sure what the new moon rising means, possibly something to do with Artemis, and the son of the owl probably refers to a son of Athena," he looked at the flame seared on his palm. "Apparently, me. The rest of it is a mystery to me. Who is the chronicler or the king who will fall or the whisper? Forks in the journey sounds like something Hecate would be interested in, and we have one of her sons here, and if he has control of the Mist, then maybe he can show us the way. I can't make heads or tails of the last two lines, though." He was talking mainly to himself as he tried to sort out the meaning of the mysterious prophecy, but he had spoken clearly enough that his musings on the subject were easily heard by everyone around him and Syrus.