[System]
Physical: Like many Varan hailing from the north, the young Torr stands high among men and his toned shoulders echo his ability as a warrior. His long, rugged, black hair hangs down to just below his shoulders, and his black beard hangs down to his chest. Cold, dark blue eyes are set upon his cold face, complete with a fierce demeanor and strong chin.

Equipment: Torr wears chainmail over his torso, covered by a padded tabard, while a black belt wraps around his waist. He wears black, iron-plated gauntlets complete with gloves, and iron greaves cover his black boots. A cloak of wolf fur hangs over his shoulders. In battle Torr wears an iron helmet modeled in the shape of a wolf's head. Most of his apparel is dyed black with dark blue accents, with the emblem of a white wolf's head.

Torr carries an iron-braced, wooden round shield, a longsword, a hand-axe, and his family's ancestral blade. He is a master swordsman and has been regarded as one of Asgeir's finest warriors. He prefers to use his longsword and shield together, resorting to his hand-axe when necessary. His family's ancestral blade is an ancient weapon, and never used; a dark-colored, rune-scribed blade comes forth from its wolf's head hilt. Some would say the runes hold magical power, although Torr does not believe so.

Background: Torr is the son of Tarro, the jarl of Valland. Like all Varan, Torr was brought up as a warrior and would one day take his father's place as jarl. Although he has battled bandits, raiders, and pirates, Torr longs for a real challenge. When news of the Sylver Empire's encroachments reached Asgeir, Torr took up his sword and marched south with ten of his best men.

Faction
Valland Hold, Asgeir
Far to the north lies the realm of Asgeir. It is a land of harsh winters, abundant forests, vast mountains, and chilled valleys. Rivers and tributaries run from the slopes of snow-covered peaks, winding through the dark forests and icy hills before emptying into the seas and lakes.

The High King of Asgeir rules from the capital of Stormhold, the oldest and largest city in the kingdom; Stormhold is also the extent of his power, as the realm is largely governed by independent lords called jarls. Each jarl rules a jarldom and is responsible for its maintenance and protection. Valland Hold is one such jarldom, long ruled by the Valgard clan. The Valgards are capable swordsmen, perhaps the finest in Asgeir. In times of war the Valgards can raise the Wolfguard, legendary horsemen who double as excellent infantry.

The Valgards rule from their walled town of Valland. Their land consists of rolling hills, perfect for grazing and farming, and thick forests which allow forestry and hunting. Winding rivers provide fresh water and fish. The Valgard clan symbol, and thus the symbol of their soldiers, is a dark blue field with a white wolfs head.

Asgeir Military
A jarl may levy the men and women of his province to form a warband, personally led by the jarl himself. All able-bodied men and women are expected to heed the call, although it is usually the head of household and his oldest sons who pick up arms to fight for the jarl. Shieldmaidens are common in Asgeir and can account for 45% of the nation's military. Because of this levy system it is law for all individuals living in Asgeir to own a weapon and shield. Fathers and mothers train their sons and daughters to fight from a young age, guaranteeing a capable military force in times of war.

Asgeir is a vast realm, and the towns and settlements can be spread across vast distances. Therefore horses are almost required to trek the long distances. Horses are also used to work the fields, herd the cattle, and transport necessary food and supplies to other locations. This has led to an equestrian-based society, and almost all families own horses. It is no surprise then that when levied many warriors ride into battle atop their beloved steeds.

Asgeir produces fine horsemen. They may not be as heavily armored as a knight, nor as fast as other riders, but they strike a middle ground and can fulfill a multitude of rolls. When dismounted they double as excellent infantry. The wealthiest warriors ride barded horses and wear chainmail or iron armor, wielding round shields and either axes or swords, along with a lance.

Those men who have lost their horses or otherwise do not own one act as infantry. They bring with them chainmail armor, iron helmets, a round shield, and a melee weapon of their choosing. Infantry are expected to form shieldwalls, which allow them to absorb enemy charges and deflect arrow volleys, so all warriors must bring a shield.

Varan tactics revolve around charging and breaking enemy formations with their cavalry, and then finishing them off with the support of their infantry. Otherwise they absorb the impact of the enemy charge with their infantry, and seek to flank with their cavalry. They lack in missile units, and only a few jarldoms supply dedicated archer units.

Varan Military
The Varan military can be divided into two portions: infantry and cavalry. The Varan are excellent riders, but double as excellent infantry, lacking in archery and artillery.

Command
10 Wolfguard - The Wolfguard are elite warriors from Valland Hold. These chosen champions are hand picked by the jarl himself, serving as his bodyguard in times of war. There are no finer warriors in Valland, and few others in Asgeir can match their prowess in battle. Generally, the Wolfguard are wealthy lords living in Valland who can afford warhorses and maintain a sufficient arsenal; they have thus sworn sacred oaths of loyalty to the jarl, and will fight and die in his name. Some Wolfguard begin as local strongmen who have proven their worth and are granted lands and titles.

The Wolfguard wear iron armor, wolf cloaks, and fearsome helmets meant to instill fear in their opponents. They carry iron-braced, wooden round shields, and an assortment of chosen weapons: greatswords, battleaxes, longswords, maces, etc. Each Wolfguard has a mighty warhorse, protected by barding. While they can act as sufficient cavalrymen, the Wolfguard prefer to fight on foot, utilizing age-old tactics like shieldwalls.

[User]
Erebus continued to remain silent for the Planning. Still standing as a statue with his two chosen. While they made no moves and spoke no words, their presence could hardly be ignored. Not only by their Magical aura that snuffs all Mortals unfamiliar with the Ancient arts, but also by their figure so different from the other men in the room. Erebus didn't know if the others even knew what forces he had been deployed with or the grand feat that can only be described as miracles that they could accomplish. Erebus made sure to enlighten them. Completely coming out of no where, the stationary Iron clad Giant spoke up again. Continuing the Duke's mention of siege units. Again his voice boomed like thunder inside the tent. The dust around him jumped and danced as if to appease the War Master.

"The troops I bring with me can be assigned to any unit that seems fit for their use. My Chosen that you see before you can be sent to assist the Front line with myself, aiding any Heavy Infantry. Such as the Hoplites and the Famed ScaleGuard. My Holy Knights can also be situated behind those lines to provide aid in the arts of Restoration Magic. While my War Mages..."

Erebus's eyes, the fire that only showed through his Helmet, finally moved to look at the Duke. "My War mages can offer long range artillery to the enemy. We will see how well those Auxiliaries fight after witnessing their strongest blades melt down to a liquid pool of metal and their flesh fall off their bones, leaving nothing but a small pile of Ash to continue their so honored legacy..."

The War Master's tone turned from serious to excited quite fast. He caught himself and settled down, remaining silent with his eyes now trained at the Orc leader.

[Assistant]
Alexander Myerscough

---

As Pizurk stepped up to explain his plan, Alexander again remained silent, his index and thumb placed on his chin, his mind hyperfocusing on analysing. His plan sounded...very typical. Most of the infantry in the center, cavalry on two flanks and the archers at the back. He had encountered such strategies pretty commonly in his conquest. Its greatest weakness is that the outcome of the battle is heavily relied on discipline, morale and skills of both sides. If the enemy is superior to his own, then it's over. But here it had higher chances of working because the enemy is the least experienced among Alaric's troops. Also, Alexander liked the sound of keeping the heavy cavalry out, although he would prefer if he placed a group of heavy horses into the line, for breaking and routing purposes. So if it's for the first day, it's fine, but if for later days, Alexander didn't know if he could continue to approve it.

The other commanders seemed to share his own viewpoint. He patiently waited for the rest to finish before speaking up

"It is a sound plan, although I find it a bit reliant on our own individual's skills and leadership in battle. Its casualty rate also depended on that. But since who we are facing is their auxillary troops, so it is viable. But I would prefer to use small heavy cavalry forces for any distress on the battlefield."

[User]
While it might have been more natural for a Uruk to be on the offensive, Pizurk understood well enough that if one intended to keep whatever you took in the first place you were going to have to defend it from someone sooner or later. However, he wasn't a fool in believing that his plan was ironclad or perfect; Seeing the wisdom of the move, he grabbed the marker that represented the Acity Empire's heavy cavalry and placed it on the battlefield... through further back to represent its status as more of a reserve force then anything else.

The Galatian marker would be left off the board through; If he couldn't trust their leader to shut the hell up and follow his orders, then he wasn't trusting them on the field of battle. He also made a show of removing the markers for the siege weapons and the offensive mages... through he left the markers representing the healers. "Our enemy is watching, no doubt trying to figure out what we'll do and what tricks we have. The more we use things like magic or the big stuff, the more opportunity those attacking us will wise up and try and figure out ways to counter them. However, I don't see any harm in having the healers be a bit more active..."

Thinking for a moment, he picked up the marker for the nine or so tark 'Chosen' and placed it on top of his own infantry in the center. "Don't really know where else to put 'em where they could be of some use." Shaking his head a little, he turned to the tark 'siege expert' with a look in his eyes. "I want you to take anyone not fighting to help your troops dig in. Defenses, traps, what have you. Just give us something solid we can fall back to and hold."

[Assistant]
"Two-thousand Zathii light infantry in the center, flanked on both sides by five-hundred horsemen. Place them under the command of the Elder Chiefs." Alaric's plan was quick, simple, and to-the-point. It garnered worried looks from around the tent. Nevertheless, the young commander eased back into his chair and simply looked at his officers.

It was no surprise that Rexus spoke up first. He opened his dialogue by slamming his fist onto the table. "The Allies will crush the Zathii. By sending them into battle you guarantee the Allies an early victory... you'll inspire them, make them fight all the harder." Rexus leaned further onto the table, knocking over some of the strategy markers in the process. His recklessness here on this mock table only foreshadowed his reckless command on the field. "Give me control of the Sixth, Alaric. I can crush the Allies in one swift battle, and we can be done with this endeavor."

Rexus' input garnered a host of nods from the other officers, who sought a quick end to the campaign. Even Lucius, Alaric's closest friend and most trusted adviser, seemed to agree.

Alaric stood back up and began speaking, moving to replace the markers that Rexus had knocked over. His movements were very precise and calculated. "We would certainly crush the Allies if we deployed the Sixth. But it would be hard-fought and we would lose many men. I cannot risk sending the Empire's best troops into battle."

Lucius inquired next, "then why not deploy the Sixth with the support of the Zathii?"

Alaric acknowledged the sound strategy, but protested. "We all understand the risk of mutiny. The Zathii are here against their will and tensions are rising. We cannot afford a rebellion, not here."

Alaric was not finished speaking, but Lucius finished for him. "So you would thin their ranks by sending their light infantry into battle... those are their youngest men. And you would eradicate their traditions by having their Elder Chieftains slain in battle." Lucius disagreed with the strategy, crossing his arms and frowning.

Alaric could feel guilt coursing through him, but quickly looked away. He regained his stoic composure after a few moments and finally said "it has to be done. Rexus, prepare the auxiliaries."

---

War horns blasted across the Maw. The sun had barely passed its zenith, slowly beginning its western descent. The gates of Alaric's wall swung ajar as hordes of men and horses poured out. They had no discipline, no order, and no composure. It was all a hobbled mess of men and women, though the northern and southern portions of their army were mounted.

The oldest soldier in this force, aside from the Elder Chieftains, had seen thirty-three winters. He had a young wife, two sons, and one daughter. How he wished to be back home, cuddled up close to his wife in the early morning frost. He closed his eyes and tried to remember the playful voices of his two young sons, and that unique laugh that his daughter had. But it was useless; war horns, drums, and angry shouting ruled his mind this day.

No time for love, Lentos, he thought to himself, there's no love in war. He raised his shield and hammered his sword's pommel on it.

The Zathii light infantry advanced ever onward, not yet in range of the Allied missile units. They wielded iron swords, spears, axes, maces, and chipped wooden shields. They were equipped in very little to no armor, composed of cloth and leather. Only the Elder Chiefs wore mail armor. The cavalry were quick, not hindered by armor, and their riders wore little to no armor, armed with javelins and short swords. They were a fair-skinned, long-haired people, and they were far away from home.

The Allies opposed them on the western stretch of the Maw. There, Pizurk's uruk foot soldiers held the center, while they were flanked by the Roffelans, Twilight Knights, Royal Knights, and Hoplites. Behind them were archers and crossbowmen. Light horsemen and Pizurk's own worg riders protected the flanks of the infantry.

The stage was set and the battle was ready to begin.


[System]
Alias (if any):Gungnir

Age:45

Faction: Normal - War Veteran and Hero

Personality: Al is a somber man, cynical to the extreme. He clearly cares little about mincemeating when speaking his opinion out loud and spares no one of his verbal lashing. His usual gruff demeanour is only a consequence of how war-scarred and emotionally numb he is, having grown a thick shell to protect his sanity over the years. Beneath all that, however, lies the once gentle nature of a man who wanted to do what was right for others, and that he would protect the weak with his own strength. Having said that, kids and generally youngsters are exempt from his cynical demeanour, and he has always time to lecture the young about the ways of the world.

Appearance: Albert is a grizzled middle aged man, with graying sideburns on his otherwise brown hair. Despite the surgence of wrinkles and the scars that pepper his entire face and body, he is still a bit of a rough handsome devil with blue eyes. Of average height and constitution, he usually wears a checkered sweater with a shirt, jeans and boots whenever he's off duty. On duty... well whatever his current chief says he has to wear. He carries a butterfly knife at all times, a gift from a fellow comrade-in-arms.

Background: Albert was born in some small town in North England. For the most part, his childhood was humble, but pretty uneventful.
 Just daily routines and chores, and perhaps the odd troublemaking or two. Born the eldest of three, Albert also learned from an early age the responsibility of protecting and teaching the younger. He mused in his infantile behaviour, that perhaps his calling in life was a teacher. However, when the Starbursts happened, his entire world vanished in a single night. His town was ravaged by monsters when he was on a field trip with many others as a teenager. His entire family perished.

The shock made him reconsider his calling in life, and after he hit the legal adult age after being put under estate care, the young man jumped in the armed forces as a sniper, who were bearing the strain of trying to hold the monsters off all while waiting for the Epics to take them out. Over and over again, he tossed himself in the battlefield with his many comrades, knowing that he could not win, only buy time and act as a human shield for the civilians to be spared of the brunt of the clash of monstrous beings versus the Epics. He never faltered. He never truly surrendered nor despaired. The hellish battlefield, and seeing comrades being replaced by new faces over and over again only made him more resolute. His rank ballooned up, mainly because field promotions were abundant in such a chaotic scenario.

And then, just as he was about to break, he managed to do the impossible. He managed to take out monsters with only his grit, his men,
 and decidedly inferior firepower. The events were rare and isolate enough to be noticed, much less alter the course of the war, but the deed had been done. Sooner than later, Albert was approached by his superiors, and decided to lend him to other places and battlefields in the world, usually where the worst situation was.

It was then when Albert broke. He broke two things. First of all, the preconception of Epics as untouchable, and second of them, the world record on sniping distance, as he put away a maddened Epic with a single headshot far from his reach. For his gruesome deed, the propaganda machine churned out a name for him. Gungnir, spear of Odin. He always found that nickname too pretentious, but he conceded, if only because it would lift up the spirit of his comrades in arms.

However, the victories he had won were phyrric, and in the end, the reality forced the governments to shut down the insane operations that had ordered Albert to do, specially after the show of power by the High Epics in Manhattan, which drove deep the point on how badly outclassed normal people were. Albert was relieved from duty, and with great honors. But the man couldn't stay idle. All those years in the battlefield, and knowing that somehow, the battle still raged on.

It was then when he heard about a certain ECPD department in Manhattan that could use people like him...

[User]
Techster - The Docks
@Regitnui]@TheHangedMan@Mercenary Lord

---

Techster stopped, practically froze solid, as the words were broadcasted loud enough for everyone in a half mile radius to hear.

"Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!" He muttered, eyes wide. "I'm sorry, Charlotte. You're going to have to follow me. You get to meet my parents... Lady Lift and Mr. Mass."

He slid out of the vehicle with a heavy sigh. "If you don't, they'll bring you. Just... Let me do the talking."

He a heavy heart, Techster walked to the nearest building with a roof access, dropping a light onto it as he retracted his armor.

Mr Mass stepped lightly onto the roof. Each following step was heavier, until a small spiderweb of cracks spread from his feet. "Son. What did I tell you about leaving the house without telling me or your mother where you're going?"

Techster hung his head. "Not to. But you were both out and it was really important and I hadn't expected to be gone so long and get caught up in everything here, or almost anyways we only just got here, and I left a note on the fridge with my transponder frequency and -"

His father held up a hand. "I know you want to be a hero just like us, but your mother and I would both prefer you finished school first. We've had this talk." Mr Mass folded his arms. "You did know that you left your geography homework unfinished on your desk?"

"But that's so simple. I'll have it finished in under five minutes," Techster protested. "And I can juggle school and the occasional hero work. I could skip all my classes and graduate now if you guys would just let me. People need help, and I can help! I've got so many inventions I could make to make people safer and help with big events like that rat attack the other night."

"Howard," Mr Mass put a hand on the boy's shoulder, looking into his eyes. "We love you, you know that. But school is important. Even if it isn't what you like and things you find simple. You don't want to be too specialised with that fantastic mind of yours, do you?"

"But I won't be," Techster muttered. "I can learn anything. I've already got straight A's. I already know string theory and quantum physics. I know classifications of stars, what dark and light matter are theorised to be, and why things are called dark energy or matter simply because humanity doesn't understand them yet. It's all so simple. It's not about liking it, because I love learning. It's about being a better person and helping people who need it!"

"And what about the other stuff?" His father asked.

"I can do it all. You are just holding me back," Techster said quietly. "Sorry. That sounded better in my head..."

"One day you'll thank us." Mr Mass' mouth quirked up on one side. "Your brain can't help with the heart, son. And I bet your friend over there won't go get ice cream with you if you try and analyse everything."

Techster chuckled slightly. "That's Looking-Glass, dad. We were hoping to make our Hero debut here, but... Well, that's not happening now. They're actually why I left. I did some... Uh...I found out they needed some assistance with matters and helped."

"And you didn't think it was worth telling us before you left?" His face had gone impassive again. He pressed his hand to his ear, triggering the headset's talk mode. "I've got him dear, and that girl he's been looking up on his computer." Mr Mass' expression made it clear there was going to be a long discussion about this at home. "Yes, love." He kept a hand on Techster's shoulder, though he might have dug his fingers in a little. "Looking-glass, I'd think it best you accompany us home for the night. I'm sure Howard would be willing to give up his bed so you can sleep."

Techster paled noticeably. "I'm sure she'd rather go home, dad."

"Nonsense. It's far too late." He walked over to Looking-glass. "You can call your guardian from our house while Howard changes the bedclothes and cleans up."

Lady Lift stepped onto the roof, the helicopter having set off. "Howard..." Her voice warned of a lot of worry having turned to anger. "You're grounded. For a month. No workshop and no Internet access."

Techster groaned. "I won't argue, but isn't the whole point of keeping me in school to make me learn? I can't learn without access to information, and information is found best online. Can I convince you to just put a time limit on that? Please?"

"A month," she repeated, and a transparent force disk lifted the whole family, and Looking-glass, from the ground. "Consider yourself lucky I'm not taking away your gadgets as well."

"Yes Ma'am..." Techster replied quietly, defeated.

[Assistant]
It was too much. Phantom knew it was time to go. Too many people were showing up. What had originally been a crazy, stupid, deliriously entertaining hit and run had turned into a chaotic frenzy of new weapons and new Epics. These people were crazy! Fucking insane. "Kenny!" he hissed at the grinning woman. "We need to go now! Too much going on!"

"Agreed, you spooky, scary, skeletron!" Kenny whooped, pulling a walkie-talkie out of seemingly no where. "Attention, comrades! We are beating a hasty retreat as of now! Vince is with us. Ernie, shoot up a flare so Maria can see it."

A moment later, an enormous column of flame spiraled into the air. "Gotcha bud," Ernie said. "I'll grab Maria and meet you all back there."

Kenny and Hannah glanced at Phantom. "You heard him," Kenny said. "Let's go!"

---

"That was fucking insane!" David muttered, waving his arms wildly in the air above him. "Why the fuck did I ever let you talk me into that?"

They had all made it back to the apartment in one piece. Vince had taken a moment to wake up, but after a jolt of sparks from Ernie, he sat up with a screech. When everyone stopped laughing at him, they explained what had happened. "Thanks, David," said Vince. "Remind me to save your ass the next time you're unconscious, all right?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" snarled David. "We all could have died. DIED! Those people had fucked up weapons, and fucked up ideals, and they were not fucking around. How can any of you be chill about this?" He kicked and empty can on the floor. "Fuck!" he said again, for good measure.

The others exchanged glances. "It's a messed up world out there, David," Maria said, in her own voice. "You have to laugh at it even when it's about to kill you, or you'll go insane." She laid a hand on his arm, and despite his anger, he found it very hard to stay mad at her.

"She's right," Kenny said, more serious than David had seen her yet. "We're Epics, y'know. People hate us, fear us. The Kryptocopters are just the most vocal ones." She ducked into the kitchen. "That's why it's so important that you stop oogling Marmie there and just pin her up against a wall somewhere."

David flushed immediately. "Kenny, come on..." He caught a glimpse of Maria's raised eyebrow, heard the rest of them laughing from the words, and wished very much to be asleep, so that he could fade from the world entirely.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" Kenny said, popping back into the room. "You've just met her, of course you want to wait a bit before you end up in bed with her." She held up a hand before he could punch her. "You're way too easy to rile up, buddy. Take a breather." She grinned, holding a can up to his face.

"Care for a beer, sir Phantom? A drink for a job well done."

"I hate you all."


[System]
Rank: Swords of Sanghelios Commando

Species: Sangheili

Appearance:
Tar (right) practices CQC tactics with an energy lance

Skills:
Experience of piloting Banshees (Type-27 & Type-54) and Type-57 Phantoms
Covert infiltration
Sabotage
Close quarters combat
Military administration & combat training
Application of non-standard weaponry

Preferred Weapons/Equipment:
Type-1 Energy Sword for hand to hand combat
Type-52 Mauler for closing with targets
Type-57 Carbine for medium/long range engagements
Commando Harness (halopedia.org/Commando_harness) with propulsion unit
Type-2 Spike Grenades and Type-3 Firebombs, if available

Background:
Tar 'Mdalak was born on Brissekh, a pristine frontier world, in the 2520s. Her father was Tarkr 'Mdalakai, old swordsman and kaidon of the planet's largest settlement.

Her homeworld was heavily tapped by the Covenant for fighters, with nearly all Tar's numerous siblings conscripted into the military.

Tar was desperate to earn glory along with her brothers, but the Sangheili ranks wouldn't have her. The place of females was to guard their home keep, and a lot of the Covenant traditionalists preferred it that way. So instead she served as the captain of the guard for her father's keep.

Frustrated with the relatively small scope of her responsibilities, Tar put all her effort into modernising her troops. She expanded their training far beyond basic guard duties, incorporating asymmetric warfare tactics and mechanised detachments.

She also supplemented the traditional energy lances favoured by traditional guard units with the latest Covenant weaponry, like Carbines and Beam Rifles.

There were lots of opponents to her reformist vision, especially seeing as she was a female wielding significant influence over the old kaidon. This often resulted in skirmishes between would-be dissidents and Tar's well equipped militia. It was in danger of boiling over into all out civil war until the Brutes attacked.

The Sangheili-Jiralhanae war hit Brissekh completely by surprise. None of the Keeps received warning of the raid until Brute RCS class cruiser was in low orbit. Before any of the Keeps could react, they'd destroyed the space port and bastion compounds before deploying two companies of heavy infantry to kill as many citizens as they could find.

With the distress signal sent, Tar deployed her troops to the large city outside the Keep. With everyone behind the fortifications, maybe they could hold out until friendly ships arrived.

However, her father wasn't content to cower behind walls while Sangheili across Brissekh were slaughtered. Despite Tar's protest, he struck out for the landing zone with his retinue, seeking a duel with the War Chieftain. They found each other, but survivors say Tarkr 'Mdalakai was separated from his bodyguards during the fight and captured by the enemy.

When Tar found out her father had been imprisoned, a much worse fate than death for Sangheili, she went mad with rage. Abandoning her position near the gates of the Keep, she plowed into the marauding Brute hordes. Her vigorous training and agility let her use the Brute numbers against them, with the weight of bodies allowing her to get in close and butcher them.

When her Energy Sword expired from overuse, she took Maulers and Spike Grenades from eviscerated Brutes and pushed forward. Whipped into a frenzy by their commander's raw fury, her troops set upon the Brutes with a cruel precision. The narrow streets of Brissekh's main city ran with Jiralhanae blood.

Such was the ferocity of the Sangheili counter attack that the landing party never even reached the gates. And when a nearby Swords of Sanghelios battle cruiser arrived to help, the Brutes fled the system, taking Kaidon 'Mdalakai with them.

Upon meeting the rescue ship's commanders, Tar immediately invoked the right of release, an intention to rescue her father from a shameful life of capture. In the spirit of Thel 'Vadam's liberalisation of the Swords military, the cruiser's captain granted her passage and enlistment aboard.

The cruiser gave chase to the Brute ship, but it got away. They searched for the aggressors, but the trail went cold. Tar vowed never to give up, but accepted that she needed to contribute.

She quickly fell in with a squad of Brute hunters that were formerly part of the Silent Shadow division of Covenant crack troops. They were operating from the battle cruiser and had learned of Tar's plight. When they realised her ability in combat, they offered her a place on missions slaughtering any Jiralhanae they could find. Tar gained a reputation for exceptional cruelty when it came to Brutes, often appearing to exact personal revenge on each combatant.

It took three long years of searching before Tar got a solid lead. Some of the Brutes they'd interrogated had heard a rumor Sangheili kaidons were being held on Brute ships near a Forerunner construct known as Sarcophagus. Her squad tried to convince her the intel was shaky at best, but Tar didn't care.

She parted ways with Silent Shadow and set out on her own. Finding passage aboard a military vessel, she gained access to the Sangheili-Human facilities on Sarcophagus by joining the colony's defensive contingent.

However, despite searching for months, Tar could find no trace of the Brute cruiser. To make matters worse, she couldn't stray far from her unit for fear of being tried as a deserter. Many of the assignments on Sarcophagus were for life, but Tar certainly wasn't planning on staying that long if she could help it.

[User]
Yalu 'Suumko

"They're giving ground already?" Yalu asked himself. "That chieftain was clear, but..." His eyes dilated in realisation. Shortly before Tar was fired upon by the human with the assault weapon, Yalu was already loping into a broad sprint down the right flank, sliding to a stop facing to one side. The human gunner flowed into his sights and five plasma rounds shot towards his centre.

"'Mdalak! Right side clear!" He hesitated, not yet seeing any sign of a jammer, let alone any extra movement on his motion sensor yet. "This feels like a lure!" He added over a growl.

Yalu kept his wits, trying to listen and feel more than see. Brutes liked activate camouflage in packs, and this valley between the walkways was perfect for their prey.

[Assistant]
The two folded into the Aviza brute-killing group (foreshadowing) as they began their descent into the corridor, it would only be a matter of time before they would go toe to toe with a huge group of bad guys. Elna kept her head on a swivel looking around, looking like a paranoid bat of some sort as she expected for Rebels to come flying off the walls. For Roy (Ray) though it would just be another series of motions and actions he would be forced to go through, the two treaded through before Aviza called for contaaaaact! Roy moved forward and jumped behind hard cover before getting up to fire at the rebels.

Elna also followed quickly planting herself up against hard cover as she got her Br-55 up and sent rounds down range towards the rebels and it was only a matter of time before they routed and ran away! Aviza quickly corpsed a flanking brute, taking him out without an ounce of remorse. The whole group began to rout but not in full, it could of been a trap - maybe it was? They were nowhere near the crates at this time so they could possibly be safe, though Ray kept his finger on the trigger.

"Keep an eye out Corporal, thinks aren't as they seem." Elna returned a curt nod towards the spook she babysits, both got up and returned fired onto some nearby rebels quickly killing them as they stepped out of cover.

[User]
Situational awareness is crucial upon the field of battle, Spartan Aviza had learned this through many years of not only combat training but also experience in live fire situations. Unfortunately, it appeared that some of the other members of her immediate squad had either forgotten this important tactic or were more brazen and impatient than the others. To Aviza, is was clear that the hostiles had set up some kind of trap for them, though she was unsure what that trap would be. Perhaps they were trying to lure some of the forces into an area then cut them off from the others with some sort of energy barrier? That would make them easy to overwhelm, and the hostile forces on the other side would have to somehow deactivate the shield before being able to assist. Whatever their plan was, Spartan Aviza was not about to let any harm come to those under her command.

Quickly, Aviza gave orders to the two had moved away from the rest of the squad, "Why are you advancing into what is most likely a trap? What happens if you two get cut off from the rest of the squad and we can not help? I want both of you back to my position immediately, the rest of us will provide cover and then try to find out what they have planned for us ahead." Spartan Aivza hoped that there was still time for the two Sangheili to correct their mistake, if not, the situation at hand was about to get much worse.

[Assistant]
There was some delay in the response from the enemy. They waited behind cover on the far side of the room, only giving token return fire as they waited for their attackers to take the space they had given up. However, Aviza did not give the order to advance, and the delay would give some time to try and retreat back to her position.

When it became clear that their attackers had, for the most part, not taken the bait, the Chieftain let out a roar. Right away, Brute stalkers, four at least, emerged from active camouflage on the walkway directly above the team's position. They did not have an angle to shoot down on Aviza or those who stayed back, but Tar and Yalu were within their sights. Two opened fire with spikers, while the other two tried to throw incendiary grenades to block their retreat. It was, indeed, an ambush, though it was far from ideal for the Brutes, as both of the Sangheili were still fairly close to Aviza's position. In any case, the Chieftain's roar had been the signal for an all-in attack. The Brutes started charging from far across the room through the crates, while the Human rebels positioned themselves to provide supporting fire. Although, they did have a fair amount of ground to cover to cross the entire length of the room.

[User]
Grikgar /Grik/ Seeker
// Unggoy Ultra // Demolitions and Artillery // Location: Enemy Stronghold

Grikgar shifted quickly from one point of cover to the next. "Copy Grik be careful now. Many explosions good for Grik but not good for everyone else." Getting to the pillar next to the Spartan Grik nodded and activated the shield he got from the jackal. The bright orange glow of the shield illuminated his position in time for the machine gun to open up on his position. "Grikgar create opening for Spartan."

Turing from cover his shield flared then broke along with his energy shield, Grik gar was only able to get two shots off with an unsteady hand before diving back into cover. "Shields recharging." What a rush, a bit risky but a rush all the same.

[Assistant]
Vael 'Virisusai and Tasuma

---

While Grikgar had not had much time to take his shots,the jackal shield had at least bought him enough time to be able to put one on target. The first sailed over the top and exploded on the far wall, but the second struck the barricades directly. It did not entirely destroy the barricades, and the rebels behind them were able to duck for cover, but the machine gun emplacement was caught in the blast. Ryker would still have to deal with armed resistance, with better cover, on the upper walkway, but there was no heavy gun to keep him pinned.

Some of the rebels had retained their bearings well enough and had managed to retreat out from the smoke cloud in the center of the room to form up behind the cover of the support struts on the far side. They had no heavy emplaced weapons, but they were well-armed on their own and had good sight lines. It would still not be trivial to displace them. If Ryker and Grikgar could claim the upper walkway, they would have a position on the high ground, at least.

Amid the smoke, Vael stalked the rebels who had not escaped like prey. Using motion trackers, or simply the sounds they made to track them, Vael weaved between the crates to deal with them up close and personal. From the outside, one would see nothing until he came close enough to a target to flick on his energy sword, which illuminated the thick smoke in a blue glow. It was generally followed by a short burst of gunfire, then the scream of a Human.

Tasuma did not make light of its own injuries, but in any case, it still moved into the smoke cloud as well. It was concerned less with killing stragglers as it was positioning itself to handle the rebels defending the far side of the room. The smoke would dissipate eventually, so it moved to find enough of a stack of crates that it could use for cover, instead of relying wholly on its armor for protection.


[System]
Nickname: Rusty Randy
Race: Demihuman (Red Squirrel)
Age: Twenty
Gender: Male

Proportionality:
Weight:305 lbs
Height:6'11"
Frame: A large frame, very bulky and muscular under the fur and large gutted  Use a hider.
_______________________

Personality:- Bruno is often defined as the quieter and distant type, and he really is. Although that doesn't mean he dislikes the company of people, in fact depending on the person or sometimes simply where the company is well appreciated. His distance is more seen in often a quietness and lack of expression or something simple such as asking about the weather unless it suits a particular need of some sort or another. On the other hand he can often daydream when doing some repetitive task or while being alone, being quite oddly perverse in the confines of his own mind. Bruno's lack of expression is occasionally connected to the weirder sides of himself such as obsession toward certain people often crushes are role models or in new technology seen and brought to him. Another darker piece of Bruno though rarely seen since childhood conflict is an odd enjoyment of the fight often when he himself is the one being beaten down and somewhat less the other way around. If there is a kindness available to be done, and nothing particular in its or Bruno's way, often he will do it out of an odd sense of duty to do so rather than just being kind, or it is speculated as such.
Job: Engineer/Repairman

Fighting Style: Bruno, doesn't subscribe to a particular fighting style, depending at first if possible avoiding combat is the tactic. Beyond that, he goes with whatever the hell gets the job done. Whether it be punching, elbowing, clawing, pulling or a swift kick or knee to the groin area if necessary. He's more swift in his attacks than actually being powerful in them and more often used to absorbing and taking on multiple powerful blows. When in tight spaces or in panicked moments often using the arms to redirect blows and instead go with a knee or a swift kick to any vulnerable part.

Weapons from strongest to weakest: Wrench, mallet

Armors/Outfits He doesn't really tend to wear much that can be defined as 'armor' perhaps occasionally a welding mask and tough gloves for work in the past. Beyond that, often Bruno is simply found in basic grey overalls, some pants underneath often with a convenient fanny back and a small leather pouch attached onto its waistband.

Familiar:

Familiar Abilities: Lighting & Wind, Absorb electricity, resist wind, weak to ice, booming blasts of sound or music that can push back projectiles and smaller foes, can eat weak or defeated foes

Trance: (none of this found yet) Trance is more often caused by lust and strong resolution for Bruno. While in trance, his stomach and chest expand and practically 'puff out' to a degree as if to form a masculine wall. His defense quintuples and speed doubles, because of his familiar's nature, Bruno can levitate or 'fly' sort of with gusts of wind normally being noticed below his feet and appearing as small tornadoes.

- The way Trance is activated is through stress and emotions. So tension can induce this.
- Your body can shift form due to the sheer power. Such as changing figure a bit.

Racial Advantages
Pros- He can hold multiple weapons
Cons- As a human he is limited to having very few magics that are not his Familiar's.
Self advantages
Pros- Bruno's main strengths combat wise is his durability and speed. Beyond that simply may be his techno-know-how and engineering skills
Cons- While Bruno is fast, what he has in speed is what lacks from his average if not below attacks. Seeing as his combat has no real technique, rather it is simply beating up the opponent with whatever comes to mind it can difficult to combat some who have fighting technique on their side.

Background:
 Bruno was born and raised in Lindblum and for the most part it still remains home to him in many aspects. He used to live there with his father and mother under the same house, though the two divorced when he was eight after some big fight. He had seen the two actually fight which lead to his mom, shoving the other down and the floor and quickly leaving, soon the divorce happened and Bruno's dad who had been wealthily employed in the engineer business had received custody. Often through the years there were a few troubles that plagued Bruno's childhood and up. Rumor spread that Bruno's father, Barret was a weakling and had been beaten up by a woman though the source of this rumor has still been unknown to this day what followed after it was a bunch of bullying and fights from others around at the time. Barett, seemed to change over the years as well despite Bruno helping with projects, his dad always seemed to belittle or insult him over the years, and oddly always had to know where Bruno had been.

 Over the years of this, Bruno just started to grow kind of silent and took what came at him. The pain was seeming normal, just something that would have to occur. On certain days, Bruno would just stick up in his room and lose himself in daydreams and oddly growing perverse dreams around the age of twelve. In secret, he began working on some of his own projects one of which was trying to create a blue automation named Reveater or 'Rev' for short. It took a few close calls and lies to hide the project. After a while, he grew worried that the project would be discovered, after it grew and grew so he looked for a place to hide it. Soon after, he found where his mom was staying and planned to visit, but more bullies blocked the way and Bruno had to take a bit of beating before arriving, some of the project was destroyed in the process but not all. It wasn't long after finding his mother, Clarece that she agreed to keep the project hidden, on one condition, that Bruno start protecting himself. She didn't specify any particular tactics, besides a move that redirected punches and lead up to a swift knee to the ground and abdomen and saying to fight for himself, although Bruno could see the fact that she wanted to step in for him instead. She couldn't handle more trouble at the time because of even more bitter rumors and many watchful eyes wanting to taker her down at a moment's notice.

 Bruno, soon did as Clarece had asked of him. Fighting back felt good, and eventually from it most of the previous bullies were no longer challenging him. Oddly, he had missed the fights, having even developed a pleasure in them but more in receiving the blows, after a while of them they ceased to even hurt. Years, and years later around sixteen had Bruno stopped working on projects in secret, despite Barrett calling most of the projects inferior or terrible with some word or another. He felt as if he had to do something and make more projects, as only a year before had Clarece disappeared (though some claimed she was arrested) along with 'Rev'. As years passed by more and more projects were taken under, even simple neighborhood projects for people that needed repairs or replacements for old rusted pieces for something or another and that's how Bruno Randaplh earned the name 'Rusty Randy' although he couldn't tell if that was a positive or negative name. He continued on in silence, enjoying the work and even to some degrees becoming obsessed with it, the innovations in the field and some of those who led it. At the age of eighteen 'Rusty Randy' was moving on up and was asked to work on airship, this day perhaps being the strongest in memory. Not only did Bruno's father seemed pleased, he seemed nearly excited about it and threw a small going away party for the work. Rusty Randy, continued his work after that and never returned home.

[User]
"What the blazes?!" Dren let go of his hand and was sent stumbling forward, striking his cane into the ground to steady himself as the ship began to become unsteady, feeling his balance vanish under his feet as the massive vessel plummeted. Not something he could say he was used to, nor was he prepared for it.

The crash knocked him off his feet and sent him tumbling as he became a red rolled up blur of a man, flying into the air. He probably woud've broken several bones had he not still been clasping his cane, using the mage to teleport and d avoid trees, still hitting the ground and landing in a small grove of trees, hat gone from his head and cloak blown open from the trip. He was dazed for a while before he finally began to recover, getting to his feet and brushing himself down, getting leaves twigs and mud off of his attire. Now he took the time to look around... he was alone, as far as he could tell. None of those others from the ship could be seen around him... perhaps this was his chance to get back to civilization and end this nonsense... but... wait, something felt wrong. Dren's eyes became wide as saucers as he patted his head.

"MY HAT!" he shouted in dismay, quickly scanning the area for it and looking around, zipping from place to place as he scoured for it. Finally, he spotted it atop a branch on a spikey tree. He rapped on the trunk twice with his cane as his hat sailed back down, replacing the garment upon his head. He sighed with relief as he felt at peace again...

"Now then, onward, to civilization." he said stoutheartedly, holding his cane in one hand as he produly marched into the woods beyond.

[Assistant]
Karn chuckled a bit at the compliment, standing up once she finished and raised her hands, wiggling her fingers gingerly. "What can I say? My paws are very skilled and useful. But maybe if I retire from a life of Purrincess catnapping, I'll think about becoming a famous massagist that they will write in litteracy." she smirked a little. Through pickpocketing, using a whip, practicing martial arts, engineering... the feline's hands were quite skilled in general. Plus, massaging muscles was useful for a martial artist, she had to be sure her body was in top shape and surprisingly a good massage helped out. Don't want the body to be knotted up and pull a charlie horse or something when fighting or running away.

Stumbling as the there was a large thud, her stance moving to a more stable one as she quickly got her feet. "Looks like the party already started! Better grab onto something Wildcat!" The blonde demi-human said before unhooking her whip and whipping it toward Wylde to wrap around her waist and pull her closer to the stairs. Tying the other woman to it to be more secure before her feline ears perked as members of the crew quickly entered and simply gave them all a smirk.

"Awe thanks fella's! Remind me to give you all a kiss if we survive this!" Karn snickered as she quickly stumbled over to the table in the middle, turning off the lantern, wishing to avoid the ship being caught on fire before stumbling on it as there was another thud. Fingers gripping the table. Ears perking at the sound of Boss' voice, she took out her box from one of the pouches of her utility belt and clicked her tongue a little. Moving to the wall and pulling off a large rope and tossing to the rest of the crew.

"Everyone tie yourselves down, get down and hold onto something!" The feline instructed as her lighter body bounced a bit as the ship received another thud before she quickly gripped onto the other stair post. When the ride finally ended so to say, the blonde quickly stood and looked over everyone. "Everyone breathing?" she said before her ears twitched as she felt the gravity gradually shift and she gave a soft hiss before moving up the steps. Making sure they were somewhat right side up, the blonde tried opening the door, but she could feel the heavy weight on it. Most likely blocked by some something perhaps fallen debris or maybe they were deeper then they thought.

Quickly she looked around, spotting a crack in the ceiling, a slight shimmer of light seeping in. So at least they weren't fully under. "Zenero, give me a boost!" Karn said as she went over to Wylde and untied the whip before turning and jumping on the fellow demi-human's shoulders as he stood under the cracked wood. Launching off and swinging her body and slamming her foot against the cracked wood. Breaking it apart and making a hole. Quickly grabbing the edges and clawing her way out, she stood and surveyed their surroundings. It seemed they landed in a small pond. And were sinking.

"Everyone time to move your asses and tails! We got to get out now!" Karn said as she looked over and reached out, Benero tossed up a rope and the feline caught it, looking around for a stable support. Looking up, she saw a overhanging tree and quickly took one end of the rope and tossed it down to the others in the cargo hold readied her whip and ran. Swinging the whip to wrap around the branch and jumping swinging her body briefly to land on the branch. Tying the end of the rope she brought with her tightly to the branch then leaping back down to the ship.

"Alright crmewmates, climb up and get out." Karn instructed, holding out her hand for anyone who needed assistance.


[System]
Species: Saiyan
Age: 34
Gender: Female
Appearance

Personality: Tabaga used to be an enthusiastic warrior who never ran from a fight. After the destruction of her home-world, she entered into a sort of catatonic state after unlocking her Super Saiyan transformation which lasted a number of days. At the moment, her grasp on mental stability is tenuous to put it mildly.

Bio: Tabaga was one of the elites on Planet Vegeta. Born to a high ranking family and born with an above average power level she quickly began to rise through the ranks as she began her training. She was known for being a ruthless sparring partner and an even more ruthless warrior. The Saiyans of her universe never knew how fortunate they were, as the Freeze force did not exist in their universe. Without Freeza and his family to limit their growth, The Saiyans were able to expand beyond Planet Vegeta eventually although it took quite a bit longer. They eventually set out to conquer their home galaxy and nearly succeeded in doing so. Unknown to the war-hungry Saiyans however, another, far more ancient and vicious race had set their sights on the Saiyan's home galaxy after annihilating the inhabitants of the East, West and South Galaxies and adding them to their own Empire.

Although the Saiyans attempted to do what they did best, the unknown warriors cut through them without much effort over years of bloody battle and more and more planets began to fall to the unknown warriors. Eventually, the Saiyans were beat back to Planet Vegeta and the Planet itself was wiped clean of all life after a massive battle. Tabaga, whose grip on her mental stability was already hanging by a thread after continued losses to the invaders, was forced to watch and know she could do nothing as Planet Vegeta finally fell. As she watched flames engulf her home planet, something inside her snapped. She could feel her power rising exponentially and a massive golden aura began to surround her. She didn't exactly remember what happened next, but she had flashes of memory of the invaders being cut down by the dozens and of a massive explosion that wiped out all life in Planet Vegeta's solar system. The last flash of memory she had was a rather tall unknown figure placing her in an attack ball, looking down at her and telling her everything would be fine as the hibernation sequence began to activate.

What seemed like minutes for her were actually years outside of the attack ball. Unknown to Tabaga, her attack ball had been moved. It was no longer in her home universe, rather it sitting outside of a ruined temple.

Techniques:
Ki Sword:

Dragon Cannon:

Dragon's roar: Tabaga unleashes a massive Ki blast from her mouth that causes expanding waves of destruction. Not very effective in range unless she is in Super Saiyan form or above.))

Transformations:

Super Saiyan: Tabaga unlocked this technique after the fall of the Saiyan Home world. It may not have allowed her to save her home-world but it allowed her to take revenge on those who aided in it's destruction.

Other Info: A universal war between the Saiyan Race and a race of unknown warriors who annihilated everything in their path is what destroyed Tabaga's home galaxy. The Unknown warriors couldn't be stopped through normal means and cut down everything in front of them.

[User]
Death, destruction, pain and than darkness. These were the ingredients chosen to ruin a young girls perfect day. But than an extra ingredient was added to the concoction, space magic. And so it was that instead of falling into a crack in the ground to her doom, burning up into a crisp, having her lungs detonate, her face melt off, her skin boil, her eyes explode or meeting some similar and equally displeasing and yet altogether expected fate Mia found her self in the unusual position of lifting up her eyes in hell.

Or had she? As her eyes adjusted to a sky that wasn't black and burning she couldn't but help think it didn't look like any hell she imagined. For one thing the sky wasn't burning. Although it certainly smelled like it. And she always pictured hell as having more gothic spires and lava pits and less ruins. Than again it didn't look like heaven either. Not that she knew what the two looked like. Mia newer was very religious. A week ago if someone had told her about an afterlife she'd have laughed at it. But now she wasn't so sure. After all one does not just survive the destruction of a planet least of all while having her feet planted on it. Still she simply couldn't imagine either of the big ones would let their domain go this badly. So where had she gone?

Mia carefully considered her options. She wasn't evil. So hell was probably out of the question. After all she wasn't that sinful. A smirk involuntarily passed her face as she recalled her, now sadly canceled, plans for the evening. Alright, maybe just a bit. But still, her life of fighting and fun were hardly a reason to... well, what ever. Living or dead, hell or heaven might as well make the best of it.

Thus she got up, dusted her self off and decided to go find some other undead to chat up and see what answers this new world had to offer.

[Assistant]
"It has been an honor fighting alongside you, Supreme Kai Shin"

"Likewise Yaksh...no, Prince Dimsum, I believe?"

"Heh. I believe the odds aren't that bad. Majin Frieza and Majin Buu. Two of us remaining in this scorched planet."

"I admire your optimism, human."

"Defiant to the end, that's how we are. Here they come - ORYAAAA!"

Yaksha's mind still throbbed, after being bereaved from probably his death in combat. A unknown yet familiar landscape appeared before him, as he tried to get his bearings to where he had ended up. Unfortunately for him, he was in freefall and as he pondered he fell in the fountain of Conton City, making one hell of a splash. The shock seemed to make him regain his senses, before he hapzardly climbed out, and eyed the wreckage of the city and its ethereal surroundings.

He wanted desperatedly to go back to the battle, and try and do the impossible. Save Earth from Majin Buu. Odds were appalling, but he wasn't gonna wait it out to die. He had to stand up for those that were gone or could not. But the reality kicked in. This was in all likelyhood, Conton City, according to Shin's tales and Kami's guidance.

Or whatever was left of it, anyway. Well, no use in dwelling on it, he guessed, as he snapped his fingers, revealing a quick change of clothes with Magic Materialization. He was now wearing a dry, fresh suit of a Supreme Kai's attendant. He wore it better than Kibito, that was for sure. Only one person could make sense out of tails, and he knew better than to look haggard in front of such a respectable presence. He honed his senses, and remembered the vague, distinct feeling of divine Ki. It was hard to sense, and most mortals, even those of Kami's race would forever be denied the ability to sense it, but he knew. He could. Alongside, there were other ki senses he picked, but they were mostly in disarray, it seemed...although not hostile.

"Kai Kai!" He energetically said, as he vanished in an instant...

...Only to appear before the Supreme Kai of Time, inside the Time Nest, offering an elegant bow. "So it was wished, so it shall be. This one called Yaksha greets the Supreme Kai of Time. How may I be of service?" Yaksha said solemny.

And you had better have a good reason from plucking me out of my timeline in the moment I was most needed.


[System]
Nicknames: Known by his middle name, Robert, but more specifically, Rob. Hates being called "Jack."

Age: 24

Favorite Song: Panic Attack - Dream Theater. Rob practiced the drums to this song constantly, and still does on occasion, although his technical skill has moved far past this.

Appearance:

Rob is in the middle of what he deems a "transitional period." After deciding to grow out his thick brown hair some time ago, hoodies have been making a comeback with him, and fast. His beard, however, had been on his face since he'd been able to grow one.

Physically fit, although slightly malproportioned, Rob is extraordinary strong in the arms and chest but albeit normal below the waist. He's taking up hiking to compensate in recent years.

Hobbies: Drumming, hiking, drinking, smoking (old habits), and most things seclusive. He has a habit of journaling, although he tried quite hard to hide it.

Personality: Most people erroneously assume Rob to be generally bi-polar, and very nearly sociopathic. In reality, he can just be particular, forward, distant, and driven.

Balancing a rigorous, unyielding regimen on practicing his instrument and being seclusive with a loud, abrasive personality at night, Rob tends to throw people off with the things he deems with his time. Even those closest to him never really get to see a change in his pattern, or ever feel rather close to him. Simply put, Rob is aggressive about what he deems important. Whatever he desires, he goes for. He's unconcerned with feelings, social structure, or rules.

History: Growing up in the same town as the rest of his bandmates, Rob faced a lot of personal conflict and issues with his own identity. He was the only adopted child of two very wealthy, but very busy parents, and eventually raised himself up. Rob juggled and toyed with many hobbies, before eventually settling on the drums, and managing to practice nearly every night since Junior High. His drive eventually led him to several of the friendships that resulted in the band. Whether these are genuine or circumstantial friendships, Rob still isn't sure of. All he knows is that this band could be his ticket out of that dreadful town.

At the very least, this tour will be.

[User]
A long time had passed around Rob. Maybe an hour, maybe a few. It was hard to tell.

He had existed in an odd median between asleep and awake on the park bench, occasionally looking through his sunglasses, seeing people passing by, giving slight stares as they walked across in front of him.

Shaking himself, he slipped his phone out of his pocket, ready to face the reality:

Please Come Back.

Rob gave a slight grimace at the response.

He knew he had hurt Jane by leaving. But it was for the best. If he had stayed, he wasn't sure how to react. Embracing a person who had embraced another—even in some slight, meaningless way. Perhaps he was being much too demanding of her. Not recognizing the strength it must have taken to deny Lena. The little concessions she (and him) had made to be with each other.

It was so odd, being so accountable to another person. The very same communication he was demanding from Jane was also demanding upon himself—to allow someone else to enter his own head, understand who he was on his most visceral level.

It was time to face facts.

…

He returned to the room soon after, finding Jane asleep in the bed. The way she was positioned was not the same as when he left her. Had she gotten up? Had she been away to see someone?

Thoughts such as those reminded him of his own weaknesses. Images of Zoe plagued his mind, and he decided that whatever Jane had done or whoever she had seen, was of little importance.

Things weren't supposed to be this way. Entering into a relationship with a best friend was supposed to be so much simpler. And yet Rob had never experienced a relationship that demanded so much of him as Jane did. Perhaps it was easier to mess things up with a stranger than someone you care so much about.

Rob decided to wait in the kitchen, not wanting yet another bedside confrontation. So much of their time had been spent with each other, each morning and night, only to awaken the other to discuss some hard or sad news.

Not anymore.

Rob made some coffee for himself and Jane, taking a cupful and leaving the rest on the warmer. He pulled out his phone, googling the band's name. Hoping for some vapid reactions to clear his head.

After reading the daily tabloids and blogs on what they had been doing, he tossed the phone to the couch, drinking his coffee in the relative silence. Without the digital connection, he lost track of the time that past. It might have been minutes or hours, but either way Rob waited, until Jane emerged from the room.

"Sorry," he had said. "I was going to get in bed, but…I don't know. I guess I didn't want to keep talking about stuff like this in bed."

He took another sip of coffee. "I left this morning because I got freaked out. I'm not used to dealing with this stuff with another person. Usually…with other relationships, it's so much simpler. Because I don't mind if I end that relationship. But I just don't want to fuck up so bad I end up fucking up regardless."

He tried to laugh to himself. "But I'm not mad at you. I guess I just don't trust myself enough to respond the right way without prior thought. That's why it's easy for me to talk with Vicarious, I guess. If I fuck up with them, no harm done. But if I fuck up with you…?"

Rob looked down to the floor. "Well, I don't want to fuck that up."

He scratched his elbow and thought for a moment, then: "Maybe we all want to run away from our feelings."

So he elected to stay, wait, and listen.

[Assistant]
Jane had finally awoken from her second sleep of the day, but she opted to lay in bed for a few moments to stare at the ceiling before getting herself up. The talk with Andy and her nap had made her feel better, but a dark cloud was still looming over her, and the fact that Rob wasn't in bed with her yet was a great reminder.

She found a large tee shirt on the floor and began to pull it over her body as she opened the door, but she stopped in her tracks at the sight of Rob on the couch. Why was he waiting out here for her? Why hasn't he come in the room to be with her?

She finished pulling the shirt down as she approached him, then sat on the coffee table across from him.

It was nice to hear his words - his thoughts similar to hers - but Jane's pride kept her demeanor stone cold as she listened to him. While her ego worked on her outside, her heart tugged at her from the inside, though, telling her to get over it, that it wasn't important enough to stay upset over.

"I get what you mean," she began as she cleared the nap from her throat. "You know me, I usually don't give a fuck about anything." That caused her to chuckle quietly.

"But, I do care about you. A lot. Sometimes, I think, too much. It drives me crazy. I want to be angry at you so badly for running away from our discussion. After I tried so hard to talk to you instead of just fuck you." Her own words made her wince. "See?"

She stood up from her seat on the coffee table and positioned herself next to him on the couch, and her arms wrapped around his bicep as her eyes locked on his. "Let's stop tip-toeing around each other, yeah? I think it's doing more harm than good." She leaned in and kissed his arm. "I'm sorry about what happened with Lena. And I'm sorry everything's been so weird."

After a conversation like this, Jane hoped that things could finally be normal again. Ever since their disagreement about the single, it seemed as though there was always some sort of obstacle their relationship had to overcome. She wanted to finally be able to relax with him without any sort of tension or weird energy lingering in the air - just like it was when they were younger, when they didn't haven't anything to fight over.

"Look, Rob," her voice was growing more hoarse as she continued. "Things are only going to get crazier for us out there. Let's make sure it doesn't get to us, yeah? I..."

She began to cough, causing a halt in her sentence. That sentence, however, contained the words she wasn't certain she wanted to say to him. How she was truly feeling.

"I guess that's enough talking for now, yeah?" She whispered before coughing a bit more. She couldn't bring herself to confess how desperately attached she was to him. That she loved him. By relationship standards, it was all too fast and crazy for her to feel such things, but she reminded herself that what they had wasn't exactly normal. Jane had always been codependent on Rob in a strange way. Whether it was running to him during times of chaos or him saving her from the bar at 2 AM. Still, she decided to wait.

"I got one day left of bed rest before we have to deal with all the bullshit again." Her hand had moved to his chest, and her fingers slowly grazed it back and forth. "We're cool, right?"

Jane's mind flashed to the fact that Tob had been growing closer to Zoe. It was probably all innocent, she had decided, so she kept her thoughts to herself for now.


[System]
Alias: Bearman/ Mr. Teddy
Age: 37
Gender: Male
Powers
What are the powers of the bearman, you ask? He is a bear, and he is a man. The perks include being a 3 meter tall musclebound beast with claws the size of daggers and a hide so thick it can stop small calibre bullets with ease. And you get to keep your opposable thumbs! Bearman is an enormous, powerful hunk of flesh and claws, backed by human intellect and the capability to use tools.

Bearman has a distinctive sense of smell, and can track people over long distances. He's also quite fast, can climb with ease, and is near to immune to cold temperatures.

Abilities:
Mastery of a unique martial art called 'Bear Fu'. It focuses on fighting with your bear hands, although there's also a section on armed combat. The reason nobody else can use Bear Fu is because it requires immense physical strength, as well as claws and teeth.

In all seriousness, Bearman is an expert in melee combat, a master warrior who knows perfectly how to use the strengths of his hybrid form. He's also a good marksman, experienced with the use of fully automatic weaponry, a decent pilot and a good driver. He has extensive military training, can recognize most weapons and tactics for what they are, and has extensive knowledge on the subject of bears.

Equipment:
A custom made suit of armour plating forged from molecularly altered ceramics. In addition to being immune to temperatures of up to 4000 degrees, it's impenetrable to all but the heaviest calibres of bullets. This suit would be too heavy for a normal person, but is comfortable to Bearman.

Often Bearman carries a heavy gattling gun into the battlefield. While usually this weapon would be mounted on a tank, Bearman carries it along with ease, allowing him to unleash immense firepower on his enemies. He lovingly refers to it as 'Vanessa'.

Bearman has an arsenal of weapons at his disposal, from rocket launchers to axes. He may carry any number of additional weapons into the battlefield, if he so desires.

Weaknesses:
Bearman is Bearman, he needs no weaknesses! Bearman's only weakness is his hatred for stairs - he cannot walk up them. He also severely dislikes small doors, and tight spaces.

History:
Once upon a time, a man was bitten by a radioactive bear. That man died. It was a radioactive bear, there is no way you're going to survive that encounter.

Meanwhile in Russia, the perfect soldier was being developed. Mad scientists mixed man with animal, to create a being with the best traits of both. A bear supesoldier, the soon to be Captain Russia. However, the soldier in question had other plans.

Nikolai escaped the labaratory after the modifications had been completed. The process had meddled with his brain, and he lost his memories. Even now he cannot remember quite what happened, nor can he remember what group had attempted to mutate him. All he knows is that he emerged as Bearman, and he has been Bearman ever since.

Personality:
Bearman is simple, yet theatrical. He is gentle, with a tendency to make horrible bear puns. He dislikes complexity, and loves to make a show of whatever he happens to be doing. However, he has quite the temper. You wouldn't like him when he's angry.

Bearman is loyal to those he trusts, seeing his friends as family. He's straightforward and honest, disliking nothing more than traitors and liars.

He is also severely grumpy in the morning.

Family
Everyone is Bearman's family!

Friends
Same thing! What's the difference?

Crush/Relationship
Does crushing one's enemies beneath one's claws count?

[User] "Dormammu..." Aiden muttered before he blinked a few times. It took him a few moments before sat up, a dazed look on his face. He sat there stunned before he turned to Isis. "Dude that was so not cool!" He said, throwing his hands into the air. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."

[Assistant]
Cassandra actually enjoyed this little fight because they knew what they were doing -AND- both of them were sorcerers. Her head was just going left to right left to right, figuring out what was going to happen.

A few moments into the battle something happened between Aiden and Isis. But it had to be Isis's doing, she suddenly stood up and ran towards Aiden but he was already fine when she got right next to them.

"Oh. Alrighty then. What happened..?"

[User] 533 had become bored sitting around and headed to where she heard the fighting, which was apparently the training room. Missing the action she only heard Aiden say he almost had a heart attack. Moving closer she frowned slightly. "Do it again I missed it."

[Assistant]
Gwen: I drop down when Aiden mentions Dormammu. I look at him "What was that you said?" I look directly at Aiden, my eyes under my mask almost popping out. I point at Isis, "What did you do? Why did he almost have a heart attack?"
Dormammu… a distant memory echoing through with that name. 'I can't REMEMBER. Why can't I figure it out? I have heard it…or did Peter hear it?' I think to myself, a headache setting in, just like every other time I try to remember something. I have photographic memory…yet I can't remember without it hurting…

[User]
"Hey, I'm sorry okay? I didn't mean in...it's what happens when I use my powers. I thought you could handle it. Who's Dormammu anyways? You're the one who said you defeated people like me on a daily basis." Isis glared at him, before sighing and holding a hand our so he could get up. "Sorry Aiden, that was a good fight though."

Isis then turned over to Gwen, who was questioning her. "I became his biggest fear, not that big of a deal."

[Assistant]
It had been a long time since Bearman had seen the inside of a military facility. Again and again they had told him it wasn't, but Bearman could practically smell it. Weapons, sweat, determination..... this was a place where soldiers were trained. Whether they used guns, or some form of paranormal ability, it made little difference. They were the men and women who chose a cause to fight for, who chose a cause to die for. They were the soldiers of this new organization, SHIELD.

Walking through the hallways, he considered the implications of being a soldier once again. He couldn't remember his own time serving the Soviet Union, and as such he had little experience he could call upon. However, in certain ways the concept was appealing. He had always enjoyed fighting, and if one is going to fight anyway, why not do so in a manner that helps people? At least at the moment, Bearman could find no reason not to do so, which was why he had accepted SHIELD's invitation in the first place.

The sound and smell of battle, not too far away. It was not battle with guns, but rather with paranormal capabilities, as would be expected in a facility such as this. For some reason, people were fighting.

Moving on all fours, Bearman rushed through the tight corridors. SHIELD personnel and guards alike were bowled over, some managing to jump aside in time to avoid an unhealthy meeting with the ground. Arriving at the scene of the fight, he found his way barred by a door - and a small one at that. However, there was no time to find an alternate route.

With a crack and a bang, the wall collapsed, as the door itself was propelled across the room, slowly skidding to a stop on the stone floor of the training area. Through the newly created hole stepped Bearman, standing on his hind legs as he marched into the area. The cloud of dust and broken stone that had gathered around his legs like a brownish fog only added to the figure he struck. "Bearman has arrived! Where is da fighting?!"

[User] Gwen: I turn to this 'Bearman' "Oh great…well you already destroyed a door…which automatically opens. I was wondering when the walls would start being destroyed." I roll my eyes at the 'Bearman' then look back Aiden, waiting for his answer.

[Assistant]
Aiden had a slight glare in his eyes directed towards Isis, but he let out a sigh and took her hand of help. He couldn't be mad at her, she was just using her powers. But he didn't have long to properly regain his footing before a on slot of questions cane to him by his other team mates. He awkwardly shuffled on his feet and rubbed the back of his neck. "Uhh he is... uhh nobody, don't worry about it." He clumsily stammered out, trying to find a way to change the topic. Luckily this came in the form of a large speaking bear who went by the name Bearman, a real shocker that one. Aiden never thought he would be so happy to have a giant bear in the same room as him.

--------------

"Smooth move you over grown teddy bear, it isn't like doors open or anything." A dark haired boy in a Three Days Grace T-shirt under a black leather jacket said as he walked through the cloud of dust that used to be the door to the training room. He had a cocky smirk on his face and his arms crossed in front of his broad chest as he looked over the people in the room. "Sup chumps, you can call me Vince."

[User]
Bearman didn't like the smirking one, he looked like a brat. He'd make sure to throw him across the room sometime. In Bearman's experience, high-speed impacts with the far wall had a tendency to severely reduce people's tendency to be annoying. Occasionally due to fear of repetition, and occasionally because they were incapable of cognitive thought. Either way, it was a highly effective method, which he had found need to apply often.

"You build your doors too small! You need a bear-sized door!" Growling, bearman marched across the room, as he looked down. One of the people here smelled like demon. Bearman had no problem with demons, unlike most sentient beings in general. As long as demons didn't mess with him, he didn't mess with them - and as far as he could remember, no demon had messed with him or his family. The others were human, as far as Bearman could tell. Most of them were but children, clearly unsuited for battle. "Why are all these children here, fighting? You should be in your rooms, and let the grownups fight!"

Had Bearman had eyebrows, he would have furrowed them. Whilst this group certainly smelled strange, he found the quantity of teenagers among them disconcerting. What were they doing in a military location?

[Assistant]
Gwen: "Did you just call use kids? I don't know about these people…but I will have you know that I am twenty-three!" I grin at Bearman, aiming my web shooters at both of his feet. Firing the webbing at him, it coats his feet and sticks to the ground. "Now apologize for breaking the door…which by the way, was Hulk sized…trust me."

Turning back to Aiden, I giving him a look of disbelief, "Now, why did you mention Dormammu when Isis became your greatest fear, if he is no one. I have hear the name before, so spill it…" I stare directly at Aiden, aiming my web shooters at Bearman.

'Vince? He sounds like trouble, I don't like his attitude. I might need to avoid him, and focus on these magic users, and that Bearman…reminds me of a more human Hulk.' I think to myself.

[User] Cassandra shrugged not knowing what they were talking about as she finally stood up, seeing that she was knelt down next to Aiden trying to figure out what was going on with him but it seems that, it was taken care of. "Alrighty then..." she placed a hand on Aiden's back giving him a smile. Worried that he might have not been alright, he was pretty frozen back there... frozen with fear. Whatever it was, she was going to be there for him.~ Cassandra was now crossing her arms. "So..what do we do now..?" and then someone comes into the room, but she ignored him being worried about Aiden so she was staring at him until she told him if he was alright!

[Assistant]
533 was becoming disinterested with what was going on. She had come hoping to see a fight, not watch a bunch of girls fall all over themselves for Aiden. Bearman was almost a welcome change of pace as he took the wall down with the door. Some new hotshot made a comment on that particular action and Gwen as usual was still talking. The comment about children was

Groaning slightly she walked over and looked over the hole in the wall. "It looks like an improvement to me. Maybe we should make the rest of the facility to match." Really the state of the place couldn't matter less to 533. So far they were just left to goof around which the others made liberal use of.


[System]
Gender:
Male

Appearance:

Stands at a large 6'4. Broad of shoulder and hulking in build. Well-defined muscle, though deeply scarred across his body. Favors furs over silks when outside of his armor. Typically favors massive two-handed weapons, and is most commonly seen wielding a massive flanged mace.

Abilities:
Dragan primarily utilizes both blood magic and necromancy in tandem, befitting a vampire known as the Death Knight.

As a blood mage, Dragan specializes in physical enhancement, preferring to fight in melee with a physical weapon in hand. Of course, he's entirely capable of utilizing the other aspects of blood magic as well, resorting to blood weapons when disarmed and blood barriers to defend against magic. Strangely, though, he has never been seen actually casting a ranged blood spell.

As a necromancer, Dragan keeps it simple, traditional, and efficient: zombies, skeletons, and other such more mundane undead with which to drown his foes in a sea of corpses. One will occasionally see larger abominations within his forces, but these are rare and tend to be pre-prepared, with Dragan seemingly unable to raise these at will in the field as he could with groups of lesser undead. Of course, Dragan cannot simply raise armies at will. Without preparation, he tends to be able to create a dozen or so undead soldiers at a time, given enough materials. With the proper rituals and rites, however, Dragan is entirely capable of acts such as raising entire graveyards at once or binding the shambling bones of large creatures into his service.

Both of these aspects combined leave this particular vampire as a frontline general, leading undead armies into the thick of battle.

Personality:
Dragan follows a twisted sense of noblesse oblige in his dealings. To him, vampires are inherently higher life forms as compared to humans, and thus bear responsibility towards them as a result. Humanity in Dragan's eyes are, at the very least, higher than cattle. It would be more accurate to say that he treats mankind as ignorant children: unable to fend for themselves or make wise decisions. Thus, vampires are to safeguard humanity within their borders, and for this service, deserve the blood they require to survive. After all, this was simply the feudal contract as existed in eras past. Only now with more worthy lords to rule over man.

As a follower of noblesse oblige, Dragan strives to be as great as he can in his personal conduct. He conducts himself with elegance and decorum. However, this is also matched with a penchant for violence and direct action. Where other vampires prefer subtle manipulations and secrecy, Dragan simply strides through problems with a suit of hulking plate armor, a massive weapon, and an undead horde at his back. He is a lord, after all, and lords do not skulk like cowards when their authority is challenged.

In regards to the Goddess, Dragan is a loyal enough follower that he swears to fulfill his divine mission without complaint. Having served the Queen once already, he sees little issue with working to bring her back.

Bio:
The vampire lord known as Dragan Meszaros, the dreaded Death Knight of eras past, was once known as the crusade's greatest shame. Born as an orphan ward of some irrelevant church of a now-dead god, Dragan grew to be a paladin of the same church, setting out on quests throughout the land. He slew monsters, saved the innocent, and championed the light of his god.

Despite his successes, however, Dragan slipped ever into deeper frustration and melancholy as he saw the same stories happen time and time again. Men create problems for themselves that he had to solve for them. Tragedies and villians were created through human sins. The apathy, greed, and wrath of humanity were greater foes than any mere monster that had ever stood in his path. Men were ever more incapable of managing themselves.

Dragan's final days as a paladin were spent chasing the rumors of a vampire in a great duchy of a now-forgotten kingdom. When he arrived, however, every value he held was challenged. The duke was a vain tyrant, working his people past the breaking point and abusing the fruits of their labor to glorify himself. The commoners barely cared about this vampire in the territory: a few deaths a month barely compared to the starving masses. In fact, when Dragan did finally track the vampire's thralls down to an outlying village, he saw something there that broke him. The people in that village, the vampire's cattle, were doing far better compared to the rest of the duchy. Better fed, working for themselves, and just...happier.

It was then that Dragan knew his truth: man was inherently unable to rule itself. Left to its own devices, humanity would eat itself alive. Dragan gave up. He fell. Returning to the duchy's capital, the once-vaunted paladin launched a brazen assault on the duke in broad daylight, slaughtering him and his meager guard. Afterwards, Dragan returned to the vampire's village, throwing the unworthy ruler's head into the middle of the town square. With the vampire's attention piqued, Dragan knelt before him, stating that he had seen the true light.

Bemused at the thought of taking a fallen paladin as Ichor's child, the vampire turned Dragan. After a period of time adjusting to his new existence and learning all he could of vampirism, Dragan took his leave, setting out on his own with his patron's blessing. Centuries later, the vampire known as the Death Knight scourged the land, conquering a kingdom with his undead army in the name of the Queen. He sought to replace the incompetent rule of man with his own benevolent tyranny. But this was not to be. Not in this era. Such a public, reviled monster was one of the first targets of the Hundred Paladins, made more urgent by the shame that he was once a paladin himself. While the bulk of the Hundred tore through his armies with their silver swords and divine blessings, their strongest champions engaged Dragan himself and laid him low. The Death Knight was shattered with his kingdom, his dreams dashed as the Hundred moved on.

[User]
@Psyker Landshark@Rune_Alchemist

It was enough to make her feel religious.

But Ilena did not prostrate herself.

As they settled into surroundings that appeared safe, the shadow-witch waved at her minions once more, sending them off into the rest of the city to fill their stomachs. Five long bounds brought her towards the satchel where she had smelled the blood, and she immediately uncorked one such vial, downing it all in a single gulp. Delicious. But only in the way that anything would be delicious to someone thirsting. The heart looked edible as well and she pulled the dagger out of it, sniffing at residue left on the blade to see if she could identify it. Dragon? Giant? Or something less common than either?

"Luna," a gesture towards the collapsed thrall. "Please."

[Assistant]
Luna Emeraltide

Luna mused to herself that, were she still alive, she might have been gasping for breath then. Their escape complete, and their safety secured, Luna's body relaxed, her shoulders loosening in the soothing presence of her patron goddess long before they reach the main interior. As they tread through the halls, she remained quiet and reverent, recalling the old days in which she'd visited this holy site. Within the main room, her red eyes glimmered before the sight of Ichor's stone grandeur, and pious appreciation filled her still heart.

She rushed up alongside Ilena, and knelt beside the collapsed thrall, briefly looking over them before gently turning their body over, cradling them in her arms.

"Perhaps, their task was to deliver this meal to us. They are weak, dying," Luna said, looking into the thrall's shut eyes. "I've nothing to help them." Luna looked up to Ilena and Dragan, as if searching their expressions for any sign of a solution. She set the thrall down, leaning their back against the altar, and took a vial of blood for herself. She too downed the vigor in one swift gulp, and exhaled satisfactorily as she felt renewed power well from within her cold veins.

She touched her fingers to her lips, reveling in the taste. A great deal of self-control reigned in her desire to consume the rest, and leave Dragan starving.

"The heart may have been cut out within the city itself, to ensure freshness. I hope that they might awake, so that we can ask questions."

[User]
Giselle de FarryUndead Princess, de Farry

---

Fighting the shambling hordes of the fallen undead together with her lordly companion was but a trifle for Giselle. But even a trifle was no minor thing for herself and probably Aleksiya in such a deprived state, though having an enduring weapon that didn't actively use her own blood helped wonderfully in that regard. Once she had reaped the mindless undead and found the upper levels free of offending hordes, she was nonetheless glad for the momentary respite.

The white-haired vampire couldn't help but to remain a tick annoyed at the tardiness of a certain overly-religious redhead, though.

It was perhaps because of her drained state that it took an extra mite of time for her to realize that the two of them were not actually alone atop the ramparts. Poising her weapon to strike at the new figure, her eyes slightly widened in mild surprise as she beheld a man, and a human, at that. Nonetheless, she flicked her scythe back into a defensive position, even as he spoke. Giselle still had no clue as to the political and cultural landscape of this new era, after all. Certainly, she did not jump to thinking of him as a quick meal as some of her peers might.

"Indeed, and likewise. I would not have expected to find a simple human here, but if you were merely one, you would already be dead if you were." She gauged the man as she parroted some of his words, albeit in a diplomatic manner. The man seemed exhausted; Giselle ventured it was from fighting against the selfsame hordes that had been giving them trouble. More intriguing, and far more interesting, though, were the red vials of what obviously had to be blood adorning the sides of his coat. Combined with the mention of a partner, she was very curious who this man was, and all the more so his partner. What did he mean by vermin, though? Was he referring to that beast's screeching from earlier?

"Hunters, then." She paused, before adopting a slightly apologetic and pained look. "Ah, where are my manners? I am Giselle de Farry. You have us at a slight disadvantage here, ser…" Whether he supplied a name or not, she continued on, after giving Aleksiya the chance to give her own introduction if she wished. "I am curious about that partner of yours, no less than those vials of yours." Frankly, the both of them needed the blood, but they would be negotiating from a very disadvantaged position if she didn't want to take it by force of arms, something she'd quickly pondered and dismissed as a last resort.

Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

"We would have use for some of those vials, if you can spare them," she finally said, after a moment's pause, before glancing at her smaller companion. "In return, we could assist you in locating this vermin you seek, within the best of our abilities."

[Assistant]
They'd managed to retreat in good order, and now found themselves on far safer ground. He'd been here before, of course. Centuries ago, back when he'd first explored the world as a fledgling vampire. And now he returned once again, no more powerful than he was when it all began. Full circle. At least he could begin to remedy that in part now. Dragan took a single vial of blood, and with very great reluctance, only a single vial. It wouldn't do to leave any more vampires starving should they make it to the cathedral, of course. He doubted the three here would be the only ones called.

Dragan uncorked the vial and sipped slowly, relishing the taste of fresh vitae after so long in torpor. He could feel a small measure of his strength returning to him. Not nearly enough, of course. But anything was better than nothing. When the vial was drained, he set it down and looked to Luna and Ilena, pondering the situation before them.

"The thrall will likely awaken on her own in time. I don't much care to interfere with another kindred's servant. Some don't take kindly to such, and it would be poor manners after they so generously provided us with fresh blood. In any case, I believe we ought to give thanks to Ichor for our deliverance, before anything else." With that said, Dragan faced the image of the goddess and knelt down, murmuring a prayer under his breath. It seemed old habits died hard for a former paladin.