[System]
Identity
Name used: Sigurd (The dragon slayer in some rare cases)

Age: 32

Appearance:

The only notable deviation from the image being that his entire left arm and part of his shoulder is encased in stone.

Height: 6ft 4"

Weight: 98kg

Weapons

Steel Longsword, fairly average in terms of length and weight.

Scaled Shield, an ordinary iron rimmed wooden shield covered with the scaly hide of a dragon. The shield itself is nearly impervious to flame, and can ward off most forms of physical and magical attacks as it still withholds the magical qualities of the dragon. It is roughly 100 cm in diameter.

Throwing Axes: Sigurd carries two small steel tipped throwing axes attached to his belt on his right hip, which he can throw with impressive accuracy.

Armour: As well as his shield and stone arm he wears fur and leather boots, leather and iron leggings and iron plated leather armour. He has a steel pauldron on his right arm, his left fends for itself. He wears an odd full iron horned helm (unique to his homeland) which will hopefully prevent him getting his brains beaten out.

Physical Stats: Sigurd is, outside of his stone arm, fairly mortal, though impressive none-the-less. He has a near peak human physique, easily able to bench 200kg and sprint at up to 15mph for a sustained period. However, his body is still fallible to all the weaknesses of humanity. The Stone Curse in its infancy does provide him some small resistance to poisons and other debilitations beyond that of an ordinary human, but not significantly.

Abilities: Trained from a young age in the arts of war, he uses a perfected Viking style of combat, in which he utilizes his sword and shield in equal measure in both offensive and defensive styles. Basically, he catches the opponent's weapon on either his shield or sword, depending on the angle of the strike, and lashes out with his free weapon. Either one can cause incredibly damage. If his shield is lost in combat his stone arm can be used in much the same way, the only disadvantage being that he loses the larger surface area of his shield, and projectiles can target his head or unprotected right side. The advantage is with some luck he could grab the opponent's weapon and snap it in half.

The Stone Curse: Sigurd's left arm is made of marble, to put things simply. However, the arm has a few magical qualities which account for his prowess.

It does not encumber him in the slightest, which means he can throw the arm around with all its strength at no disadvantage.

It has no issue with lactic acid build up, and is near impervious to conventional forms of damage. The marble itself is incredibly thick, making up the entire arm, and has been shown to slowly repair itself if scratched or cracked.

It dulls the effect of magic which targets Sigurd or the arm itself. In theory, he could reach into the void and effect otherwise intangible opponents such as ghosts with his left arm.

It can apply massive amounts of force; his left arm is roughly three times the strength of his right, allowing it to roughly curl 240kg.

Sigurd's Story (So Far): Sigurd was born in the far north of his homeland, dragons scoured the earth and his people could do nothing. He grew to impressive fame after his fabled slaying of a dragon, the first to do so. The act in which he killed the beast was also notable, he apparently dealt a paralysing blow with his left arm, and chopped straight through the creatures skull with a long sword. The tales were not believed, until his first public appearance revealed a startling and controversial trait, his left arm and shoulder were encased in stone. Living stone which did not hinder him in the slightest, yet allowed him to place ridiculous force into his blows, and remain unscathed in the process.

His fame grew as he slew a number of dragons on his travels, though he grew listless and weary of trekking through the north. In an encounter that by all accounts should have been his last he was thrown into the dimension of the Liason's tournament, the Way of the Warrior, where he was forced into combat with a number of dangerous individuals. Despite being obviously outclassed the warrior known as Sigurd performed well, before coming unstuck against an undead opponent with power beyond anything he had ever seen. When all his attacks failed him he was stabbed from behind and suffered a mortal blow, forcing him to leave the tournament in second place, his prize being his life.

After returning to his homeland with the knowledge of his tournament victories and losses he encountered a small dragon that embarrassingly forced him to flee battle for the first time, and after doing so resolved to pick up throwing axes and practice with them for any future encounters of the sort. Since then Sigurd has mostly wandered, the few remaining dragons in his homeland managing to evade his pursuit and cause untold devastation.

[User]
There was one who did not tarry like the others. He who passed through the shrine without a word, the knapsack on his back filled with supplies, his expression sombre yet determined. His visage was one of a warrior from the frigid Northlands. Fur and iron, steel and stone, these things adorned his tall, powerful frame. He was a man like any other on a glance. Yet an arm made of stone was no ordinary thing, it marked him as Sigurd Stoneheart, bearer of the Stone Curse and survivor of the Way of the Warrior. In that stony grip he clutched a round shield draped in the hide of a Dragon, his slaying of such a fearsome beast the cause for his renown. At his side the tools of his trade, sword and axes, weapons of war and death. Sigurd had survived three years of conflict since leaving the Liason's tournament with naught but his life as a reward. Now perhaps he would earn his comeuppance. Or now perhaps he would meet his end.

Steeling himself for war, the helmed warrior stepped over familiar terrain. Snow trod underfoot and the wind whistled shrilly, no doubt freezing the less well equipped for the cold to the bone. To Sigurd, this place was not so different from home. He moved assuredly, and so reached the first point of crossing a while before his fated opponent. Familiar now with the destined nature of combat in such a place, perhaps grown more cynical in his days since the Tournament, Sigurd secured an advantage with little doubt he would fight. He may talk, he may not, and such would depend on that which rose to meet him.

Having reached the windswept cliffs, his feet carried him swiftly half-way across the area, standing between two rocks that blocked a clear view of the entire arena. He did not draw then, but waited to see who would face him. His rugged face frowned, muddy-blonde hair trapped beneath iron and faint whiskers bristling in the cold. With a slight shrug his armour shifted, never quite comfortable, but a re-assuring weight none-the-less. Piercing blue eyes shone from beneath his dreadful horned helm, eyes which spoke of death.

[Assistant]
Common sense was a powerful ally, and with it did Iolanthe trek the black mountain. She did not know how the conclusion came to her, but did not shrug such superstitions off, the knowledge that a battle would occur here on this day. It was never spoken aloud that the mountain's scape was a tournament of bloodshed, but it's history, drenched in death, hinted to nothing else. People died trekking up the mountain, and never did a group attempt the climb and come back side by side.

Iolanthe held her spear backwards and used it as a crutch to climb up the mountain, for the path she chose was not the beaten trail. She had some mountain climbing experience behind her, such as the time she visited the Oracle on mount Olympus. This black mountain was nothing like Olympus, however... it was very much alive, and the path became ever the more treacherous as Iolanthe navigated it. Eventually, the mountain's maw would deny her the advantage she sought, in her attempt to reach the peak without making contact with the other warriors. Bloodlust wasn't her thing, but it'd be forced upon her here. Tremors shook her off the side of the mountain she attempted to climb, until the path her eyes scouted out was no more. Sliding down a suddenly diagonal slope, she found herself in a narrow chasm.

"So the gods have spoken..." Iolanthe uttered under her breath, while turning her head down the pathway newly created. With her blessed sight, she could see far ahead, through the narrow route, a man stood in wait, a good eighty feet ahead in the only available open space she could spot for miles. Her hands carried the will of her devotion, and so she was willing to play the puppet in this game, she'd progress onwards with an unflinching courage, until she too became visible in the eyes of her designated enemy; From this standoff, each warrior could gauge one another.

The man standing before Iolanthe was scouted earlier, however his hurried unfaltering pace gave the hoplite little time to properly examine him. At first glance, he looked a bit rugged, like the many Germanic barbarians to the north; Iolanthe had some experience fighting off these heathens for the Romans. At second glance, the man seemed a slight bit taller than the average barbarian, his helmet was pretty unique, and the patterns woven in to his leather armour differed as well. Iolanthe's mind acted fast, and her eyes faster, at this distance she could scope in to his very pores, or lack thereof on his left arm, the colour of his eyes and hair, what scars were visible, and what weaknesses might be estimated based on those scars. A sigh escaped Iolanthe's lips, what a fine specimen of a man, he was obviously an incredibly skilled warrior, and a tad handsome to boot. Hopefully he had milked life's splendors to the fullest already, else Iolanthe would not enjoy killing a champion with no heir.

Hyperion wheeled about once in Iolanthe's hand, which outstretched with her arm so that the spear's tip pointed towards the northerner, whose name now became a thing of interest. "You who seeks the treasure of gods, state your name, and what reason compels you to climb this mountain!" Iolanthe loudly commanded, letting her voice echo across the mountain ledge. With honour, however, she wouldn't make such a demand without some mutual exchange. "I am Iolanthe Adastraia, champion of Hyperion! I seek the treasure to show my devotion to the solar, and bring liberation to my people! If I judge your resolve as impure, you will be shown no mercy! However... prove otherwise, and perhaps we can arrange for an honourable battle!" Iolanthe's eyes closed thusly, and her arm twisted to the side, pointing her spear instead towards the mountainous wall to her right. "Either way, by the sadism of the gods, the key to this wall is likely hidden in our blood... they seek a glorious performance! So then... Shall we give them what they desire?" Iolanthe finished her speech, and hoped it was not too much... or worse, if the Northerner couldn't speak or decipher the common tongue!

A standstill would last until the Viking warrior spoke his mind. Iolanthe knew she might die here... and if she did, she'd wish it by the hands of only the most honourable of champions. She had several coins strapped to her waist, which she would place upon her opponents eyelids, but only the ones who fought a respectable duel. She had enough extra to pay Chiron's fare if she were to fail.


[System]
Age: 18

Year: 3rd

Appearance:

Personality: When describing Sousuke, only two words really come to mind: Cocky and Driven. Sometimes he can be a little too cocky for his own good, which can and has gotten him into trouble on multiple occasions. In spite of that, his rather driven nature and sometimes unbreakable tenacity to keep pushing forward has often been the thing that got him out of the very trouble that his cockiness gets him into. Some would say that that balances out in the end, while others might find him annoying or just outright frustrating to work with. On top of all that is his apparent need to be as cool as possible. His gestures, way of speech, it's all for the purpose of making an impression and ensuring that people who meet him are not soon to forget his name.

Background: Having moved around several times throughout his life, Sousuke has transferred between many different schools. The subject of why his family moves around so much seems to be a sore spot, as asking him about only seems to make him irritable. Whatever the case, Sousuke is no stranger to being the new kid, and this has made it rather difficult for him to form any kind of bonds with other people... at least none that actually stick. He's also been a member of several different Battle Clubs, at least until his family has to move again and Sousuke has to transfer to another school. This has led him to stop joining the Gunpla Clubs altogether and just focus on developing his Gunpla skills solo. One recurring trait of his was to offer his skills to Gunpla Teams, but not for free. Rather, he would ask for compensation in exchange for his filling out a slot that a team needed filled. Some would call this greedy, but Sousuke prefers the term "Free Agent". As for what Sousuke actually uses his earnings for... no one actually knows, and he tends to just make up an answer when asked.

Battling/Building Ability: Sousuke is definitely more of a battler than a builder. Sure, he can fix his Gunpla with parts, but building an entirely new one was never something he was good at. That being said, Sousuke's Gunpla happens to be a very well-built model with top notch performance and customizations, leading some to wonder how someone with such poor or average building skills managed to get a Gunpla of such quality. The answer is, as usual, something Sousuke prefers to keep to himself.

Mobile Suits:
-Name: Crossbone Joker
-Description: Crossbone Joker is a heavily modified Crossbone Gundam utilizing various utilities and systems from other models. An example of such is the Joker's primary melee weapon, clearly inspired by the GN Swords from Gundam 00. His primary shooting weapon is a high powered beam rifle reminiscent of the Wing Gundam or Wing Gundam Zero. One the Joker's more flashy weapons is the Crossbone Bars mounted on its back. Rather than simply serve as boosters as they do on the official Crossbone model, the Joker's Crossbars can be dismounted and swung or thrown like a giant windmill shuriken. And finally, the Joker possesses another Trump Card, one that Sousuke rarely ever uses if he can help it. It's equipped with a 00-inspired Trans-Am system that turns the Gunpla red and then briefly triples it's overall speed, power, and defense performance. It's primarily a sleek black color that allows it to easily blend into the dark environments of space fields, though retaining the white skull chest piece of the official Crossbone model. Also, its head unit is decorated like a pirate bandana rather than a captain's hat.
=Weapons=
 -Joker Blade: An enhanced GN Sword that deploys from the right forearm.
 -Joker Magnum: A customized Buster Rifle that is kept in two pieces stored in each leg respectively.
 -Joker Star: The crossbars mounted on the back. Outfitted with openings for particle emission.
 -Trans Am: A phase shift system that turns the suit bright red and temporarily triples performance.

-Name: Mach Fist Master
-Description: ?

-Name: Joker Xtreme
-Description: ?

Name: Masato Kusaka

Age: ?

Appearance: ?

Personality: Masato is arrogant, narcissistic, and has a borderline God-complex. As far as he's concerned, there's only two tiers that actually matter: himself, and literally everyone else beneath him. Like Sousuke, he's a free agent, but for some reason charges no money. Instead his form of "compensation" is finding strong opponents worthy of him. If he can't find an opponent within a seemingly random timeframe? He not only leaves the team, but outright turns on them and trashes their Gunpla and ensuring their inability to continue competing. To call Masato an asshole is the understatement of the century. And yet, in spite of all that, he still manages to find himself on teams willing to risk hiring him.

Background: ?

Battling/Building Ability: Masato is a prodigy builder and battler. In spite of his extremely jerkish personality, he still manages to find teams that are willing to put up with him. The reason for that is almost chillingly clear: because Masato really is that good. The only reason he hasn't started competing at World Level yet is because he wants to milk the Under-19 scene for all it's worth before moving onto the World Tournament competitions.

Mobile Suits:
-Name: Phantom Rogue
-Description: It appears to be a highly customized Epyon, or at least it was an Epyon at some point. The dark maroon paint has been replaced with pitch black. Not only that, but the horns on the head as well as the areas around the suit's eyes have been painted white, making it appear as though the Gunpla is wearing a mask. The wings appear to have been removed, in their place are openings for plavsky particle emission. The emitters equip the Rogue with either a set of black wings or a shadowy cloak.
=Weapons=
 -Twin Magnums: A pair of revolvers, stored in each leg that fires surprisingly high-powered plasma shots.
 -Lupin Striker: The wicked whip normally seen on Epyon. This one has been modified to be able to straighten into a sword blade for dueling, or use its usual whipping attacks to make wider strikes. It's also outfitted with particle emitters to boost the weapons striking power as needed.
 -Particle Phantoms: The particle-emitted wings or cloak isn't just a fashion statement. It allows the Phantom Rogue to deploy doppelgangers of itself made of harmless energy, or leave them in its wake like afterimages. The doppelgangers are harmless, unable to cause damage to enemy Gunplas, but they can cause confusion visually and cause radars to detect multiple Phantom Rogue copies.

[User]
The forest he had landed in was just large enough to tuck him away. Somewhere in the distance he could hear the babble of a river snaking away. He looked over, knowing that he hadn't encountered anyone but somewhere close were two other Gunplas he knew near nothing about.

He took a step forward, the impact of his foot thrumming the earth. Then he felt it, a bolt of instinct anchoring him with caution. A long beam bolt sung out, crashing into the earth to the left of him.

Echo Barbatos jumped away from the initial shot before gazing in the direction of still ringing sound. As more and more bolts rung clear, followed by massive beams veering mostly to his left, he directed Echo Barbatos through the dense forest. The wild Gunpla surged through the trees like a feral beast, its Tail Blade extending out and whipping back and forth in anticipation.

It wasn't long before he spotted the cause for the missed shots.

Echo Barbatos tore through the trees and out into the open, standing in the raging river. A glinting in the distance gave him a hint of his shooters location, however, he also felt guided, or pushed in the direction he had ended up at. He looked up and around himself before noticing something, it was slight but the color was so pitch black that it begged for his attention in the mountainous daylight.

"Prey ..." mumbled Natsu.

His Tail Blade smacked the ground as he started towards the Crossbone Joker. He reached down and ignited one of the beam sabers on his hip during his charge, fully prepared to strike out at him once on him.

[Assistant]
Sousuke watched the beams fire from a source a long distance away. Sniper fire, but it was a beam sniper rifle, meaning that it was easy to trace the shots to their origin. And it only took a moment for Sousuke to get a rough estimate of Nanashi's position.

"Thanks for giving up your position... idiot. Next time try using something other than beam attacks so you're harder to spot." of course, it wasn't long before the rustling and shifting of trees betrayed the impending arrival of Sousuke's other opponent. He wasn't exactly trying to be stealthy, not that much anyway, "Oh for the love of... he does know he's being herded like cattle, right?"

Sousuke's grip on his controls tightened, and he suddenly activated his own thrusters, firmly pushing the throttle all the way forward, "Sorry, Mr. President, but I'm not playing your little game." and he started flying right toward where he estimated Nanashi's hiding place was. Assuming the Barbatos was was still hellbent on targeting the Joker, that meant Sousuke would be leading the beast right to their would-be manipulator.

"Okay no more hiding, 2nd Year. Time to face the music." without slowing down, Sousuke deployed his rifle, the Joker Magnum, and fired off a high-powered shot toward the spot he guessed Nanashi was hiding. Little did he notice, the crossbars on the Joker's back began to emit plavsky particles and the Gunpla's flight began steadily speeding up beyond what it was originally capable of, "Huh?" Sousuke quickly checked his settings, and that was when he finally figured out the meaning behind that note.

It seemed there were now openings along the edges of the crossbars that could emit plavsky particles. Specifically, these would give it extra throttle, like a plane using afterburners. It also had the effect of the Joker leaving behind a rather pretty trail of sparkling particles. That meant it was easier to spot from a distance, but in exchange it could cover a greater distance in a shorter time.

[User]
"Waaaah, Sousukes so mean!" He said chuckling as Sousukes blasts fires just over him. "But man, thats a cool upgrade, but in earths gravity how much particles can it use up before falling?" He asked looking at the now flying MS, before the three shields move to reveal the missile pods hidden away. He then began to fire missiles all along the mountain side, creating a large amount of smoke as well as making the mountain side a mess. He then began to fire more missiles to both of his enemies, makings them fly from different angles as not to show his position.

Now the mountain side is messed up so Echo Barbatos can't get to him, and his rifles and missiles are intercepting the Crossbone Joker. Nasnashi was thinking he was doing pretty well right now.

[Assistant]
Natsu pursued the Crossbone Joker and despite all the ruckus, once he had caught up to the two, even with all the debris scattered and the mountainside crumbled down; the Echo Barbatos found it is to traverse with its hardened claws. Its strong frame and build endured the light pelting while its powerful legs bounded it up the cliff side. "Don't take me so lightly. I may be just a first year here but I'm skilled," he proclaimed with little passion.

He surged Echo Barbatos up the mountain and through the smokescreen.

Within said smokescreen, under the veil of Origin Zaku's poorly aimed missiles, he deploy the four funnels on his side upwards through the smoke -- stealthily changing his target from Crossbone Joker to Origin Zaku Phantom. The sound of extraneousness explosions dialed his cautionary instincts up to eleven. It was them that ushered him out the smokescreen and a few meters from Nanashi's Origin Zaku Phantom. Echo Barbatos let loose an odd, alien snarl from menacing face.

A moment later and the thin whip of his tail-blade arced up before stabbing down at the Zaku-modded Gunpla. "Are you seriously the president?" Natsu asked Nanashi. " 'Cause I'd like to join."


[System]
Bloody Mary
A warped record plays her song...
Gender: Female
Age: 23
Race: Human?

Appearance: (She does not have the robot-esque hands. Her hands are normal.) She's a tall woman of slim build and average muscle. She sports platinum blonde hair that goes to right above the shoulder, and hides it in her bonnet thingy. She is fair-skinned, and has a nice, soft face, with slightly thin lips, and a petite nose. Her bust size is a bit below average, and she has slender legs. Her hands are surprisingly quite soft, and she does not wear any sort of nail polish. Her hips are quite wide, but hidden under her antique dress.

Faction: Order of the Sword

Personality: An intelligent lady who is naturally sweet, but unflinchingly honest, mainly because she doesn't realize when she says something rude. Fairly easily persuaded and trusting. Also very quiet, even though she believes she is right almost always due to being praised for most all of her life. She shares a natural sympathy for demons and angels due to her interactions and bond with Hunter, but will still kill demons or angels and adapt their technologies and allow others to experiment on them. The dead have no regrets after all.

She has a supreme hatred of her silvery blood, becoming ashamed and almost vomiting at it's sight. She also only use her demon-like form as an absolute last resort.

Bio: Born and raised in Sweden, she was a star student in school and quickly rose the academic ranks, going to college at only 15. With double degrees in both Theology and Engineering, the incident at Fortuna naturally interested her. At 19 She moved there and attempted to get closer to the Order by joining it, but realized that, as management changed hands the organization now fought for good. Her skill allowed her to work under the Head Researcher, a man with the visage of an demon named Hunter.

The old man treated her like his daughter, doting and focusing on her as if she was his own. He had never had a child due to his experiments turning him into a demon, and she had never had a father, so the glove seemed to fit. As the man grew older though, he realized that he was going to have to pass his work onto her. His last project before he retired was a bio-engineering magnum opus that aimed to give the power of the divine to humans without making them horrific beasts or sacrificing themselves to demonhood. Maria was to be the recipient.

The experiment wasn't a complete success. Though Mary didn't completely sacrifice her humanity and become a demon, she is no longer fully human. She has spliced her blood with that of a demon's. Though she is not a demon she can become a demon-like creature at will, and her blood is a sickly luminous white. Both she and Hunter refused to report this to Kyrie and Nero, instead pretending that the experiment just made her faster and stronger. Currently, she is trying to figure out a way to dissuade The Order from adopting this mutation for regular use, all while caught up in the middle of the apocalypse. What's a girl to do, ey?

[Combat]

Powers and Abilities: unnatural almost demonic strength and speed, though her body is still as frail as a human's.
* Devil Trigger: A more bestial form bestowing her lots of fur, razor sharp teeth and claws, and antlers. This mode givers her increased power, defense, and speed. But she can only use this for a limited amount of time, and hates revealing her demon visage. She also gains some DT-specific techniques.
* Firebrand Trigger: Fairly similar to her DT, except fiery. A trail of magma follows behind her, seeping out of her legs, and she's able to enhance her attacks with explosions.

Style:
Huntress, LV 1 - This style gives Mary speed. Her focus in this mode will be to allow the enemy to wear itself out, quickly dodging in and out of it's range and lightly attack before escaping. At LV 1 this allows her great boosts of speed similar to a dodge in any direction, except up or down. Along with a general speed boost, of course.
LVL 2 - Flashsteps, incredible jumps, wall running, etc.
LVL 3 - Corporeal Illusions

Beasthood, LV 1 - This style gives Mary power. Her focus in this mode is to completely curb stomp the enemy, relentlessly attacking it until it's not more than dust. At LV 1 this allows her to hold either two weapons at the same time, or a ridiculously large two handed weapon. Along with a general attack speed and strength boost, of course.
LVL 2 - 3 weapons at once
LVL 3 - 3 weapons times 3

Equipment:

A long handgun infused with divine power so that it may harm demons and angel. Crafted by both Hunter and Mary as their first duo project.
[LV 2] The gun becomes full auto.
[LV 3] Infuse blood into the bullets to increase their power.

A large scimitar that cuts through the air (and everything else) like butter. She may also attach it to the handle made of angel bone to transform it into a scythe when in Beasthood Style. Hunter's weapon for when he was still gathering materials "in the field."
[LV 2] Demonic thorns cover the blade, dealing more damage and inflicting bleeding.
[LV 3] Add a Exceed Engine to the BS.

Made of Orpheus, a human turned demon by rejecting the gods, this jitte has the ability to manipulate vibrations. At level one, it may simply generate these vibrations, useful for audial trickery or enhanced attacks.
[LV 2] Manipulate existing vibrations.
[LV 3] The vibrations become magical, not needing a medium to travel through.

Obtained from Lily, Mary now has the ability to summon simple weapons by solidifying magic. Because of their ephemeral nature, they're mostly used as throwing weapons. At level one, Mary can summon both spears and shuriken to throw. The shuriken are faster, and more than one can be thrown at a time in Huntress, while the spears fly farther, and are a bit more powerful.
[LV 2] Mary can now summon swords to act as a shield.
[LV 3] Mary now has complete control of all summoned weapons.

PoD
Unload: A simple three-shot burst.
Headshot: A quick unflinching bullet to the head.

BS
Reverse Cleave: A backhanded slash to launch the opponent backwards.
Head Buster: A small leap into a powerful downward slice that could shatter much with ease.
Dropkick: Plant the BS into the ground, using it as a pole to dropkick an enemy. Can break an enemy's guard.
Weapon Trick: When in Beasthood Style, can transform the weapon into a scythe.
Ariel Rave: A quick few slashes while in the air.
Launcher - Send the opponent into the air with an upward strike. Following them up is optional.

BS - Scythe
Hell-a-copter: Multiple spins above the head designed to decapitate multiple foes at once.
Logarius' Spin: A quick circular slice to the left, then right. Can be done while moving.
Hell and Back: Throw the BS-S towards an enemy, before it returns.

TE
Beat: Enhance one's strikes by forcing the jitte to vibrate.
Capriccio: Replicate a simple sound at any volume.
Intermezzo: A blast of vibrational energy that travels straight forward for a short distance before dispersing.
Falsetto: Generate a loud, incredibly high pitched sound to deafen allies and enemies alike.

PP
Shuriken Storm - Mary spins around quickly, throwing out as many shuriken as possibly.
Firework - Mary launches a spear, and shortly after it sticks into something, it bursts into magical energy.
Sawblade - A trio of large shuriken crawl across the floor, slicing up anything in their way.
Lance a lot - Mary summons a huge spear, and can use it almost like a lance.
Air Trick - Summon a spear as a stepping stone to jump again.

Huntress
Dash: A quick step in any direction.
Demon's Soul - A quick dash forward, ending when the BS is firmly planted into an enemy's heart.
Accelerando Dash: Dash, using TE to enhance the distance traveled.

Beasthood
Bloodstorm: A quick sweeping spin with BS, accompanied with a spray of bullets at the same time.
Duet: TE can enhance both itself and another weapon with Beat.
Waltz: Use TE to spin in a circle with both that and the BS out.

Devil Trigger
Chomp! - Mary grabs the opponent and takes a large bite out of them, restoring a small amount of health.
Demon's Omen - An explosive roar that deals no damage, but knocks small opponent's back.

Firebrand Trigger
Magma Dash - A quick burst of speed that leaves a thick trail of lava behind Mary.
Rondo of Burn - Use the vibrations of TE to create a wave of lava.
Some of her attacks have small explosive AoEs added.

[User]
Blair

Now separated from Gideon, she can go about her business. Keeping in mind the orders she was giving, Blair decided to try something unusual and search in the least suspicious places. After all, while it's usually true that the most suspicious places, like an abandoned building, mine or a hidden wall or floor, in most stories more often than not proven true in missions/situations like these, it's also true that's not always the case.

Though, I guess it would be more accurate to say 'most obvious' place, considering it's common knowledge amongst the criminal ilk to hide something precious in abandoned or not often traveled places but sometimes one would change it up and hide something in plain sight. Blair was thorough as she made sure she didn't discriminate areas, making sure to investigate all areas, regardless of whether it was populated or not. Spotting shadows in the distance, she decided to follow, hopefully onto something.

[Assistant]
Barlour City-A random meeting gone almost wrong
@EnterTheHero

"What? You know Lady Uriel, then? Who are you?" Wrath glanced back at the Sage, gauging the lad.

"Well, who I am is of not much importance, but call me Wrath, since humans like to know names. And of course I know Uriel, she spent the first fifty years of my life as good as raising me." The Nephilim started to turn to leave, spotting a nearby sewer entrance, though he wasn't sure he could fit through it without a little help from Rage Bringer, when the Half-Demon's demonic energy surged.

"You bore me." The half-demon simply states to the Sage as he continues to stand there casually, "I have a job to do here, one that doesn't have to do with you or Heaven. Now get out of my way, and I may just let you go bullet-free." The answer was a resounding shriek through the air as the great sword left it's place on Wrath's back and leveled with the Half-Demon's neck.

"Now, now lad, no need to be picking fights if you've not got a reason, even if you are a Demon. And especially unwise to do it in front of a Nephilim who's not had a decent fight in the last ten days or so. So, what say the Sage comes with me and we leave you be until such a time as a fight is more fitting for us all?" The sword didn't waver and Wrath gave off a vibe of readiness that didn't outwardly show.


[System]
Character Sheet
Age:
23

Gender:
Female

Bio:
Charlotte was overseas on a college trip when the bombs fell and wiped out a large portion of the human race, having travelled from her family home in what was once known as the United Kingdom. Fortunate to be away from any real population centre she survived with a small group of her classmates and a professor holed up in the somewhat remote cabin that their trip had rented throughout the martial law period (What little communication they had with the authorities soon stopped). They remained for some several months surviving as best they could on what little supplies they had, trying to get as much information as possible about the outside world and the fate of their native country. Inevitably the small group had to leave their relative safety and return to what was once civilization before they starved to death. It did not go well.

Hardly prepared for the devastation and death that greeted them as they made their way slowly into the city they saw the remains of countless killed by both the bombs and several more killed more recently. Somewhat naively the group went looking for help, but instead stumbled across one of the many savage gangs that had crept up filling the power vacuum left by the now gone authorities. Before they could even introduce themselves Charlotte's professor was greeted with a hail of bullets, killing both him and another student instantly. Fleeing for their lives Charlotte was separated from all but one of her male classmates and friend, the pair of them running until they could run no more, taking refuge in a now thoroughly dilapidated building.

They spent several days hiding and attempting to survive, but it was soon disrupted when in the middle of the night they were stumbled upon by a trio of cruel scavengers. Unable to escape it soon became clear that the interlopers had rather unsavoury desires, having stumbled upon a young and relatively undamaged woman with little to no protection one thing sprang into their minds. Charlotte struggled against them frantically and somewhat hysterically, aided briefly by her friend (until one of the men buried his hunting knife in his gut and kicked him to the ground). Biting, kicking and screaming Charlotte somehow managed to grab onto a loose piece of concreate and swing it with all of her strength into one of the men's heads as he tried to unfasten his pants, giving her the briefest moment to scramble away and run. In her panicked state she fled into what was once a kitchen, sadly with no other exits – the remaining two men now stood between her and her survival. Fortunately for Charlotte the kitchen was still littered with cooking implements and so as they both charged at her she managed to clumsily grab a large knife, as the first man tried to grab her and force her to the ground she fought with everything she had.

A screaming blur of adrenaline and several scuffles later Charlotte found herself curled up on the ground sobbing, covered in the blood of her would be killers. Her body ached from the numerous bruises and small cuts she had sustained and her mind was a mess, but she was otherwise not seriously hurt.

Making her way back she was just in time to watch her last friend bleed to death as she frantically tried to stop the flow. At the very least the now dead men had enough supplies on them to keep her alive and moving.

The next few months surviving presented a huge learning curb to the young woman, she slowly and cautiously began to move from place to place, scavenging and surviving as she went. After the first three men she had killed she took few chances and generally came to avoid all other people she came across, though it was not always possible and as a result she has now killed seven attackers in 'self-defence' (though truth be told she wonders if she couldn't have avoided the last few…)
Now hardened to the outside world, Charlotte is vastly different from the carefree happy girl that once came to this country.

Personality:
What remains of Charlotte's personality is vastly different from what it once was, now severely guarded and cautious when it comes to meeting outsiders, seeing them now as only threats to be avoided or opportunities to be exploited. She has somewhat lost faith that there are any decent people left alive out there and so is becoming as harsh and uncaring as the outside world.

Currently Charlotte is a something of a tipping point in terms of her personality, poised to plunge off the deep end and become the very thing that has caused her so much suffering and pain to begin with. Though retreating into her own shell it may not be too late for her to come back into the light before she turns her back on the world permanently.

Gear:
- Hunting Knife: The same knife that ended the life of her friend, Charlotte took it and has developed a somewhat macabre liking to it.

- Clothing:
Charlotte wears the clothing she came with, though now somewhat ragged and patched up. Her jeans were once a clear light blue colour, but are now smeared with countless stains so they appear a much darker shade, the knees have ripped out and been patched several times. Similarly a light green vest remains hidden under a grubby dark gray hoody that has been fixed several times and has now got several additional pockets and even a bandolier fixed into it. A green afghan hangs around her neck and she often uses to cover her face, which when combined with her hood at least hides her face when appropriate. Her once flawless shoes are now worn through and similar covered in such grime it would be impossible to distinguish what colour they once were.

-Items:
Basic first aid kit (mostly used)
Heavy flashlight (no battery)
Canteen
Box of cereal bars (12), Skittles, Tin of Tuna, Tin of tomato soup, Jerky.
Carton of cigarettes (3)
Lighter & Fluid (1/2 empty)
$14,012 (found on a corpse)
Flare gun & 2 red flares.

Role:
Charlotte hasn't found a role as such, though some very well may start to describe her as a wanderer or even rogue, perhaps some going even as far as bandit - though to be fair at this point that would be an exaggeration.

[User]
Alyssa eyed the cereal bar as it was offered to her. "Thanks." She stated as she grabbed it. She couldn't help feeling somewhat selfish and needy for taking it, but it seemed impossible to deny. Her stomach seemed to jump a mile out of her stomach as she was saw the wrapping paper. She nodded at Charlotte thankfully, and teared open the casing revealing the food. She took a bite out of it and a few more till it was gone, finishing it, she crushed the wrapper in her hand.

 She walked to the door placing it in the trashcan on her way. As she did so she realized something she didn't before. That the house was actually neat and somewhat organized. It was as if it was left untouched after the war. This thought seemed impossible but if it was true it would mean that there were some supplies left. " Did we check the place for supplies already?" She asked stepping away from the door.

She regretted the words after she spoke them, and prayed that Quin wouldn't be the one to answer it. She wanted nothing to do with him, nor did she blame him. Deep down she understood but she would never admit it to herself or anyone. The memories won't ever dissipate, the worst ones she holds. She could never forgive him. She wants to make him pay, but doesn't know how. The best she could do is ignore the fact he was there, but so far that seemed impossible. She knew they didn't have time to deal with this and she would avoid it as long as she could.

[Assistant]
With a sincere nod and a quiet "thank you", Quinn took the cereal bar and proceeded to eat it in small, conscientious bites. There was lull in the moment where the group had grown quiet and Quinn involuntarily retreated inward.

"Do it, Harris," the gruff voice of Colonel Elias Vex whispered harshly into a broken man's ear. Quinn still had both of his eyes, and beneath the dirt and sweat was a face unscarred, but carrying the weight of sallow grief all the same. The loss of his wife and daughters was much fresher in his heart and mind and their face still retained distinguishing features in his memory.
"Slit her throat, Harris."
Quinn felt the weight of a colossal hand slap a knife against his chest with enough force to rock him back a little. He knew though, that was Vex's version of a soft tap. The titan of a man had enough strength in one hand to squish Quinn's head like a grape.
Quinn took the knife in his own hand and knelt down by the crying woman, eyes speaking odysseys of inhuman pain and torment. Twenty men had taken her, broken her and violated her. Quinn had been no exception.
It was a mercy to drag the knife across her throat. Her face went slack, her eyes dulled over and the dead weight of her figure fell with a thump onto the dirty ground.
"Congratulations, Harris. You've earned your fatigues at last."

Quinn was brought back to the present by the vague impression of Alyssa's voice. He had not heard what she had said, so he did not reply. He hadn't had a flashback that vivid for a long while. Alyssa had nearly been another body left in the dust, another throat slit. He wouldn't speak on the things that had been done to her, the things he had done and had let be done.
He realized he had been staring, and self-consciously looked down at the ground, clenching his hand into a fist beneath his poncho and nibbling at the cereal bar.

[User] Jake took a deep breath before looking towards the group. "Alright. Let's get a move on." He said, grabbing his rifle. He turned away from everyone and began walking. He smiled, trying to maintain inner peace. He walked with a slight hint of nervousness, his gait very awkward and unnatural. He was walking a bit slow, too. Jake could feel his heart beating and his head pounding. He was sweating a bit. Something wasn't right.

[Assistant]
Celty leaned against the wall and rejected the cereal bar. Something no one was doing. However she did give a smile and was polite as she did. She didn't want to seem rude or ungrateful, not even overconfident in herself. It was more the concern of if she took the bar she would be possibly taking someone's last meal.
"I'm good. Thank you though." Celty thanked. Hearing Alyssa she turned to look around a bit. "Now that you mention it, it doesnt seem to have been. Far too clean. Almost unsettling."

She walked over to the kitchen and opened one of the cupboards, just to find a neat stack of plates. Another one to cups. 'Hasn't been picked at all...' Celtt thought to herself. "Does anyone know who this house belongs to? It hasn't been touched. Hell, there's not a thing out of place." she shook her head and shrugged slightly. Someone either had to be there recently, one of the group cleaned up, or the house was off radar until now.

She slowly opened another cupboard and found a rather good amount of cans of food. Vegitables and soup. "Well, that's convenient." she said quite pleased but uneasy. Turning back she saw Jake head out. "Um, I don't think he should go out there." Celty said, pulling her rifle off her shoulder. Her gut was screaming it was a bad idea.

[User]
Alyssa looked at Jake as she raised an eyebrow at how ready to leave all ready. It didn't surprise her, but it didn't make her feel so great either. She didn't blame him either nor was she surprised, it was just wierd. Ignoring the fact she turned to Celty. "So I'm not the only one who noticed that, I don't know who owns it, but if someone did, they wouldn't just up and leave. " She stated, realizing the words she was about to say she shook her head.

'How did we just notice this now?' She wondered to herself. It seemed like something she should of noticed as the first thing but it wasn't. Her hand shook, she pulled the edge of her sleeves over them before she stated, "Wait, don't move that, everyone out of the house!" She practically shouted out.

[Assistant] Jake quickly turned around hearing Alyssa shout. Out of pure instinct and reflex, he aimed his gun and looked around."What's wrong?" He asked, worry in his voice. Jake had an off feeling too, but the world right now was off too. He slowly walked back toward the group. However, something else bothered him too. Hearing Celty's small epiphany got Jake a bit on edge.


[System]
Age: 20

Appearance: Cecil is a broad youth, standing at six feet three inches with somewhat developed muscle and a large bone structure. He has tanned skin and thick black hair cut within an inch of his scalp. His eyes are a pale green, sharp in a perpetual frown. His nose is straight and slightly bold, and stubble often coats his jaw. He favours dark clothing, often wearing bluejeans with a black shirt and sports jacket and black runners.

Year of Education: 12

Favourite Subject: Physical Education

Personality: Cecil is first and foremost an isolated individual, unskilled and inexperienced with other people. As he grew into adulthood, his social fear diminished, leaving behind bluntness and stark disinterest. He is often numb to the energy around him, and strongly independent. Another side-effect of his introverted nature is his quick temper and violent anger, and he is prone to physically lashing out when in distress. Usually only inanimate objects are targeted by this habit, but it can stem to other people in the worst of times. In the best of times Cecil is a clear-headed and thoughtful individual, quick-learning and wilful with strong coordination and problem-solving capabilities.

Background: Cecil grew up in a relatively untroubled family, though his livid outbursts quickly made others wary of him. He never had an easy time in school, and at a young age was often the target of aggression from his classmates. In his 10th year, Cecil altogether ejected himself from the school system, finding seclusion in his bedroom deeply more comfortable. He returned to school after accepting it as a hurdle he needed to overcome, joining a local highschool in a special degree that permitted him to attend until turning 21.

Significant Relationships with any other Characters: Casual friends with Vanessa, who he knows as a fellow introvert and someone he can find to pass the time or enjoy unconditional companionship.

[User]
Jack stood in the centre of the bubbling crowd. It had started off as one person from each classroom but others from different corridors and classes had left theirs and wandered until they were attracted to the phones like a moth to a flame. He was worried he had made the wrong choice. He wasn't particularly intelligent, like many of the people here who could sort this problem out by the end of the day and be home by supper. He wasn't stupid, he was smart in a technical, practical way, but this wasn't something you could unscrew and replace the battery. But you can't think like that when you're faced with what you're faced with. He was on good terms with almost everyone, which could make problem solving and mediating easier, he was good with people which would make crowd control simpler, he had some other, outside skills too, which could be handy. Jack repeated these things to himself in his head, over and over and over again until he might've believed it if the recurring question 'What's going on, Jack?' was a question he knew the answer to.

"Alriiiight, one at a time people, one a time. This is tricky, bare with me," Jack said over the anxious chatter of the crowd. "Number one, I do not know what is going on. One of the science nerds said it was an eclipse, and he's currently brainstorming with the others. If anything comes of that, I will let you know," he said, over-pronouncing the last phrase of the sentence. The crowd were not best pleased by his response. Like it or not, that's what you're goddamn getting, he thought. "Number two, I do not know where the teachers have gone. They're just gone. Does anyone know if any teachers are left? At all? Alright, can someone go check all the classrooms for me? Report back once you've checked every room in the building, clear?" Jack ordered into the darkness, and was sent back a high-pitched young boys voice then the rapid patter of footsteps. Some little kid who wanted to help the big kids. "Number three, I do not know why it's so cold. It's looking like everyone got the shiver at exactly the same time. It's a... mass thing, I suppose, something that affected everyone. That's all we can figure out," he replied to the questions cawing out in the dark like crows trying to communicate.

As the crowd quieted, and intelligent conversation started to take place begging the question of what?, Aria ran forth from the black velvet. A young kid who was crazy smart, Jack liked her a lot. When she first came to the school, she was bullied quite badly. He stepped in and said that it wouldn't be a good idea to continue on their current course (thankfully backed up by some jocks, because there was no way Jack could take on that crowd himself). They helped each other out now, like symbiosis, where he ensured she got everything she needed and she did the odd piece of homework for him. She spoke to him about the paper, laughably, and mentioned the computers. "Hey, look, don't worry about the homework right now. That's something to sort out when we figure this out, but the computers thing is interesting, as is the solar flare. So you're saying that the only electronics still working are ones that weren't plugged in?" Jack half-asked, half-pondered. It was interesting. Maybe they could plug something in and see if it stopped working. If not, maybe it was just the breakers and that needed resetting? "Alright, Aria, listen to me carefully. You remember when you first got here and those assholes would bully you, yeah? Fuck 'em. You're a fully fledged badass now. I need you to be the voice of me for a while, and I need you to go to the library and take them to the auditorium. You tell them I sent you. You get them to the auditorium, and then you come find me," Jack said. The authority growing in his voice felt comfortable, like it was a pet cat who had been lying still until you stroked it and it started purring, appreciating the comfort.

When he finished speaking to Aria, a familiar voice broke the black. Robyn was alright. She collided with him and sent him stumbling back, but he held his footing. "I'm glad you're okay too. Listen, I want you to tell me everything you know so far, but first we have to sort these kids out. Tell the leaders here to get their classes to the auditorium, and to wait there. Get them seated, and get them quiet. Wait there for me, and be careful. I heard you smash your damn hip from over here," Jack joked, grinning to himself in the darkness.

Jack turned his flashlight to outside of the circle and saw two pale shades hanging in the air like smudges on the inky black canvas. "You and you, come here," he said as he snuck closer, extremely worried that some kind of angry ghost would leap out from its cover and attack him. But it wasn't. A sullen kid he didn't recognise who looked at Jack distrustfully, and Avi, a musician who Jack had spoke to a few times. "Avi, good to see you. Anything to tell from up your way?" Jack asked but he carried on before he could answer. Formalities, in this situation. "Look, we're getting all the students in the auditorium to keep track of them. Robyn is organising all the leaders the now, but can you go with her? Once you get to the auditorium, just, I don't know, occupy them. You're good with a guitar, think of something, would you please? I'd be eternally grateful, buddy," Jack said. He really wasn't asking, to be fair. This wasn't the time nor circumstance to be asking for a favour. It was a time where order had to be restored quickly so that the situation could be dealt with in a manner that allowed efficiency. And what everyone needed now was some order and efficiency.

Jack turned to the other boy slinking in the shadows. "You, kid, you're being deputised. I'm going to need your help. Do you have a phone? We need to go around the school and clear the classrooms, and then bring them down to the auditorium. We gotta keep them close and quiet and chilled out, understand?" Jack asked, wondering why he looked at Jack like he was Pol Pot.

Jack turned on his heel. The entire school had gotten quiet, not the students but the creaking of the structure and sound of the floors and doors had stopped. Pipes no longer had water running through them. Heating had turned off. The situation had gone flashing red button bad. And when the silence of the world had reached a crushing point where eardrums wanted to implode, a shriek sounded through the air, like a banshee, the omen of death. The cry wasn't one of terror or sadness, but it was angry and hateful and full of anguish, something that could only be made by searching the depths of a soul to find everything wrong with it. The cry whimpered and Jack's heart felt weak, like he had lost something important to him. and all he wanted to do was curl up and weep until his skin dried up and cracked and his bones crunched under footsteps. And at the moment when you thought the cry of evil would quieten to nothing, a thousand more voices joined its symphony and his body just wanted to tear itself apart to stop the heartache killing him first. The chorus softened until it had disappeared and Jack sat for a moment, simply wondering how anyone could live after that and want to keep on surviving when he remembered he had people to save, not that he felt it was worth it at all. Jack stood, knees weak, heart empty, soul vacant. "Let's go," he said feebly to the other boy.

[Assistant]
Robyn didn't know whether to be grateful or horrified that Jack was in charge, but when he asked her to take all of the students to the auditorium, she did not argue, though she did give a small smile to him making fun of her for hurting herself a little ways down the hallway. Grabbing the hair tie from around her wrist, she quickly pulled her hair up into a high ponytail. At that moment, Jack was talking to an unusual lad named Avi, telling him to follow her down to the auditorium and distract everyone from what is going on. She placed her two pinky fingers in her mouth and let out a high pitched whistle, yelling, "Everyone, follow me!" Doing the smart thing this time, she grabbed her phone and flipped it on, flipping to the flashlight app on her phone. She held it up to where people could see her and that's when the cry started.

She looked around, staring into the blackness to see if she could see anything, or at least figure out where the cry was coming from. She couldn't and she saw Jack fall to his knees. She wanted to reach out to him, but she was frozen in her spot. It was as if nails had been shoved through the top of her feet, pinning her down to the ground. The cries sent chills down her spine and she squeezed her eyes shut, turning her face away from the darkness as a flood of horrid memories washed over her.

Blood. Blood everywhere. On the trees, across the tents, in the flowers on the bushes. She stumbled her way through the camp, grabbing at things that had been knocked over, grabbing her small bunny rabbit plushie that was now drenched with blood. She looked around, wondering what had caused this, hoping that the only thing hurt was her mother's finger or a small animal.

But then she came across the fire pit. Across it lay her mother, still bleeding from a wound in her neck, though she was already dead. Her skull was crushed inward, probably crushing her brain. Her eyes were wide and lifeless. Robyn did not cry. A few feet away, she saw her father, the same way, but with his arm completely missing and his head half torn off his body. Yet she still did not cry. Instead, she sat between her two parents, taking their hands in each of hers, and waited for the police. She only cried when the morgue people took them away from her. Why didn't she cry any other time?

Robyn let out a gasp and blinked, looking around as the cry faded. Pain punctured her heart and she turned around to see a few of the students staring at her. They all looked alone and fearful as well. She clutched her chest, tears starting to well up in her eyes, and murmured, "Let's go."

Not seeing if anyone was following her, she began walked toward the auditorium. She looked around, still wondering where those horrific cries came from, but she could not find the source. She led all of them down the hallway and to the right, straight toward the auditorium. Holding the door open for each of them, she began yelling, "Stay with your classes! Keep calm. Leaders! Make sure everyone is here and no one runs off, got it?!" She heard a few murmurs and looked back toward the direction where Jack was. What the hell is going on?!


[System]
Sir "LightBro"
Sex: Despite being a sir, Jonathan was actually Jennifer Light, a woman who faked being a man and getting into an army from it

Small Appearance Note: Jennifer Light has short auburn hair concealed by her helmet, and her chest is small but not completely flat.

Personality: Jonathan is a noble, typically quiet man, preferring to speak with actions rather than words. He swore himself to his duty as a crusader back in the days of old, and upholds his ideals of being that crusader, despite fighting for a God that he doesn't believe in. He has his own affiliations of religious ideals and is not afraid to call upon them and ask for help. He hates people who think highly of themselves, seeing them as scum, although he understands if someone says they're better than they are if they're in a joking mood. He is slightly racist towards fundamentalist Christians and Scientologists, believing that their ideas of a greater power are very illogical.

Greatest Sin: Pride. Jonathan went face to face against a horde of enemies before he died, and he imagined he could bore through enough of them and get through the insane amount of ruffians so he could flee the battle. Unfortunately, he cleaved through about 10 people before he took a fatal stab into the chest, causing him to bleed out.

Motivation: Jonathan has seen the error of his ways and desires to return to the realm of the living and seek redemption from his God, which he believes shows it's presence through his power. He feels the only way to do this is by making the journey back through Hell and help some people who also wish to make the journey back.

Biography:
 Jonathan was born in 1078 AD, in the city of Constantinople, from Jonathan Light II and his mother, Lelanna Light, two merchants currently selling dyes and clothes to the peasants of Constantinople. He didn't have any sort of formal education, aside from how trading and shopkeeping worked, and was always picked on as a kid for having a bit of a hard time talking, although nobody could really tell if he had difficulty talking or he just didn't like it. Eventually, Jonathan started a small shop near his parents, specializing in art and decorations, and Jonathan made a good living off it, worshipping his own God secretly when he didn't work. He loved his life and what he did, making a good profit off of it and meeting some interesting people.
 However, the First Crusades began, and when the enlistment happened in his area, he went and pledged his allegiance to the cause of the Pope. Jonathan joined due to him wanting a change of pace in his life, and he felt like this was his opportunity for a new chapter in his expansive tale. As a crusader, Jonathan quickly rose the ranks as a very talented warrior, eventually reaching the point where he commanded a small unit of about 6. He lived the tale of a true hero, and enjoyed every minute of it.
 Yet, as many books have taught us, every hero must fall sometime. A large siege happened at around 1101, where Jonathan and his group were stationed, and a very large number of enemy forces were approaching the crusaders. Having no fear and being backed by his powers, Jonathan rushed in with his group and was confident in their abilities to take down the opposition. Even though they had valor and bluster, the group was slain, with Jonathan among them.
 Things took an interesting turn for Jonathan once he woke up in Hell, namely being that he was of course in Hell. He had no idea why he deserved it at the time, but that didn't seem to phase him. He may have been in Hell, but he was not afraid. He still had the passion of his ways backing him, and he still had his mace and shield. He began to work his way into becoming a staple blacksmith in Hell, forging weapons for men, demons, spirits, and even the occasional cambion. He even so much success that he even somehow bought a small pocket dimension, which he can access through an object he carries on him. After a long time, he figured out through a fortune teller that he made it into Hell for committing the sin of Pride, which somewhat surprised him for he committed the sin in his final moments. Either way, the same fortune teller saw him escorting a group of others attempting to leave Hell, and he was alongside them, offering his hand in combat and hopefully reaching his goal of redemption. This brings us to where we are now...

Skills: Jonathan Light III was a very talented warrior and blacksmith, and in combat he specialized with his mace and shield. He is also a seasoned leader, with his military strategies being usually very successful. Although all this is well and good, neither of those skills match his passion and devotion to his God, expressed again through his power.
"The Light" was the power unlocked while Jonathan was a crusader, manifesting via a shining ball of light over his palm when he uses it. Although The Light has no weaponized features or anything of that caliber, it is seen by Jonathan as a God due to it's... otherworldly properties. Jonathan is able to pray to this being and he is then given something enlightening, largely consisting of knowledge, answers, and advice. The result he receives is dependent on his passion towards himself and his powers.

This power came to Jonathan accidentally, during one of his prayer sessions where he began to express his devotion through words, and the power was completely sealed and connected after he wrote the first scripture of The Light, which went as follows.

Even though we live in a world not ready;
There are people in this world who are.
Through this verse we are granted blessing;
Allowing us to find true insight.
Through this verse we are granted salvation;
Allowing us to never truly die.
Through this verse we are granted faith;
Allowing our souls to accept this gift.
If violence is ever to arise;
We must rely not on The Light, but on ourselves.
These are the words of The Light.

This spell is passed by devotion to The Light, and by writing the next part of the scripture attuned to your character's beliefs. However, any attempts at direct physical empowerment is not a belief of this religion. Indirect empowerment is fine. "Knowledge is power" and what have you.

Gear: * Jonathan's Mace, crafted out of fine bronze and scarred by bloodstains from his enemies.
* Jonathan's Shield, adorned with a blazing sun and with the first scripture of the light secured in a compartment.
* An enchanted tent, bought from a demon, containing a pocket dimension.
* The pocket dimension, containing a bed, a chest full of smithing materials, and a very good forge.
* His suit of crusade armor, worn at all times.

Theme Song: youtube.com/watch?v=0J2QdDbelmY (7 Nation Army - The White Stripes)

[User] Altogether Hell had broken loose as the battle outside the asylum and in the entrance had broken through to this first prison block. The prisoners around continued to riot, even attacking some of Villiam's allies in the brawl, but it was of no consequence. The armless demon capable of using Manus had been preoccupied with Jonathan and the others while the prisoners continued to ignore V himself, meaning he was in the optimal situation. Speaking of Jonathan, the knightly crusader had the gall to assume to order Villiam, something the toxic spirit did not appreciate, but went along with anyway. Or at least appeared to. Keeping low to the ground he made his way beyond the fighting deeper into the prison, but he did not head for the door. No, guards or maybe even Nefas himself would be coming through the doorway. V instead went to the farthest wall so he could melt through the obstacle. If there were more prisoners, well then he would just have to set them all free as well. At this point however his trick would not be necessary. The rioting was at a peak. Any further prisoners would be force to take part if they intended to escape, and it was only a matter of time before the warden joined in himself.

[Assistant]
Inside HPIS
Cell Block L-1
Just as it had reached it's peak, the riot in Cell Block L-1 was starting to wind down. Prisoners and guard alike, though less of the latter, littered the ground as corpses, waiting to regenerate. Many of the Hellscapers were also gone or preoccupied, unable to cause chaos. The King and John were the only two actually doing any fighting. Speaking of fighting, John was currently combating Poncho. The ingenious move to ignite his mace had gone as planned, staggering his foe long enough to command his allies. Unfortunately, though they reduced his arm's mass, said arms were also now on fire. With a smarmy grin, the not-so-armless demon launched a right hook at John's head, something that would be hard to block with the shield in his left hand.

While guards or prisoners would occasionally accost Toby and the King, none would bother with Viliam. Once the wall he was pushing himself against was melted through, it would reveal a whole load of untapped riot potential, unfreed prisoners riled up by the noise coming from the other side of the wall. One wonders if they were even needed though, surely Kritch must have been close?

Front Room
Two of the guards were already K.O.ed, jagged wood sticking out of two many parts of them to attempt movement of any kind. the other 2 guards, while better off, were still almost literally pinned against the wall and thrashing about uselessly. The two would have nothing to worry about. Until, of course, Nefas reared his head. After a brief tirade, his voice seemingly dropped for no reason. A few seconds after, he and his head guard stepped back out into the hallway Grog and Deprave were currently throwing things at people. The head guard, thoroughly shaken, began walking towards the right side cells, while Nefas stared down his opponents.

"Everything going okay down there guys?" Barkeep rang.

Things were about to be not okay.

Vents
Kritch was getting close to Betty, most definitely. He could feel it in his tiny rat brain. It was a special cell near the middle of the prison on the right side, built with a single light and no windows so she couldn't make a portal out, according to the info Barkeep had given the group. There were normally guards on it 24/7 because of her ability to free other prisoners but there would be, at the very least, less around during the fullscale riot happening in Block L-1.

[User]
With the gigantic Mayancatec moving to another room, Grog felt his itch grow. So many prisoners rioting and not a single one of them had buckshot up the ass. Nervously stroking the trigger guards, he was half-tempted to just start spraying at anything remotely hostile. Yet again, however, his thought train came to a halt as he bore witness to Old N, the mushroom crab lying flat on the ground. For something to knock the seafood equivalent of a battering ram, he had to be one tough honkey. Oh, and look at that! A couple of guards were still-

 A chunk of table hit him square in the face. Well, it was just swung back by Kali-Ma dude and thrown, and his makeshift protection gear spared him from any serious harm, but a bloody nose and lip were unavoidable. Springing his head back up and shaking off the momentary daze, he had just managed to gurgle a confused "Hey, watch it you fuck!" Before a couple of very interesting (and very unharmed) characters waltzed into the immediate area. One of them seemed like a typical security guard, while the other... The other looked like the big cheese. The head honcho. The stranger dange- Wait that last one made no sense.

 Whatever the case, the masked marauder quickly sprang back into action and exclaimed, somewhat taken aback: " Uh... 'Prave. We've got company!"

 Not caring whether or not the massive tribesguy was ready to start wrecking shit or not, Grog hung one shotgun from his utility belt, briefly, and began patting his numerous pouches for any leftover tricks. What he found was a triplet of his trusty nailbombs. Ah, a classic, those were. Little golf ball sized instruments of death they were, covered by nails and anything similar, and filled with whatever most explosive Grog had at the time. But, what was that? A tiny little knickknack had eluded him. No bigger than a pinky finger, it was... A Fucksville syringe. The single most potent (and only actually functional) combat drug he'd ever made. He wondered if he should give it to Deprave instead, but seeing bullets had bounced off him, a measly needle wouldn't even penetrate his eyeball. Whatever the case, Grog hastily unzipped his jacket and stuck the syringe through his shirt, and in to his chest.

 In a few heartbeats, the effects began to take place. His pupils widened, he could no longer feel the burning sensation on what remained of his pelvis, and his thoughts raced. Sped up. He was faster, more precise, and the world was slower. Also he felt his mouth begin to foam, but that was just a minor side-effect, right? His eyes darted between the seriously pissed off monster and the fleeing guard. The former caught Grog's attention a tad more. He leaned forward, and leering at the half-demon he rasped.

 "Hey, hey. Hey you. I burned my dick off. And now I'm comin' for yours."

[Assistant]
The crusader raised his shield and deflected the blow easily. The demon thought that he could get the hit in on LightBro, but sadly the demon had a bad case of mixing-his-lefts-and-rights-up-syndrome. The knight gave a slightly-feminine grunt off as he blocked the hit, as it was a strong punch and it was hard to block, but he managed. The crusader climbed off the armless demon and stood with his shield raised in defense, gently patting his mace over the flames to put them out. The arms may have been on fire, but that wouldn't stop LightBro from taking this beast down... well... that was the case until he felt the heavy footsteps of a pissed off cambion. He lowered his shield slightly so he could look at the armless demon.

"I know I hit you with a mace, but I have to tell you we'll have a bigger problem arriving soon my armless opponent. We can finish this later, but for right now can I ask of your help? The warden is on the way, if you didn't know." The knight didn't even know why he was trying to make peace, it clearly wasn't going to happen. Either way, the knight kept his shield up and had it raised to the armless demon in case he was about to attack.


[System]
Real Life
Age: 17
Birthday: 29 February

Personality
Prideful to say the least, Makoto is intelligent, calculating, and patient, while simultaneously unwavering in his principles. Because of his steadfast convictions which he never hesitates to espouse when appropriate, he possesses a natural charisma and ability to leader others. However, in spite of his pride, Makoto is shown to be pragmatic and determined, willing to cast aside pride and using whatever means necessary in achieve success. Despite acting with an iron fist, Makoto shows care for those under his dominion despite his seemingly harsh and strict nature.

Biography
Makoto Date descends from a line of leaders heavily involved in government. He can even trace his lineage to the famous warlord, Masamune Date. In the modern day, his parents are politicians in the Diet, having served for several years already. It is expected of Makoto to follow in their footsteps once he comes of age, a legacy he is more than happy to continue.

Despite possessing the maturity and discipline to meet the responsibilities and expectations he accumulated, Makoto understood to take care of his physical and mental health to avoid burning out or snapping from pressure. He overheard several students mentioning a VRMMORPG that just recently went out of beta and was about to be launched. Makoto researched the game that was being released and found it sufficient for his dilemma. When the game was launched, Makoto was one of the first players to join.

As Makoto rose in infamy in the game, he also managed to rise in his own life as well. He reached his third year in high school as student council president, a title he held since his first year in middle school, while maintaining the number one position in the class rankings. There were few people who didn't know Makoto-taichou. There were even fewer that he spent his free time playing a VRMMORPG.

In Game
Avatar Name: Nacht
Avatar Title: Night's Emperor
Appearance: His face is hidden by an aquiline helmet, sharp and foreboding in appearance and colored black by the dark metal used to make it. He stands a head above most, bedecked in armor of dark palette with robes of fine linen over it. His slender frame is hidden by a long, black cape that is often wrapped around his body, giving him the appearance of a bird of prey hovering over its captured meal.

Class: Great Conqueror

Signature Moves:
Presence of the Emperor – When in the same party (for PCs) or presence (for NPCs) of Nacht, players and non-playable characters have increased stats and are unable to fall victim to mental pressures.

Tactician's Perspective – When used, Nacht is able to have an overhead view of the battlefield and is able to mentally send commands to NPCs.

Call-to-Arms – Nacht is able to summon NPCs to fight for him. The amount he could summon is dependent on a non-playable character's strength. This means he has options of whom he could summon. He can summon an army of weaker NPCs or he may summon a single swordsman that is capable of taking on even the strongest of players.

Geas – Nact is able to place a geas, an absolute command, on a NPC. While under his geas, the NPCs that are controlled are buffed considerably until that command is met. When used on other players, they are paralyzed and stunned for three seconds.
Avatar Biography:
Nacht was one of the newcomers to the VRMMORPG when it was first launched. Despite his research into the mechanics of the game, he lacked general experience when it came to video games. It was because of his inexperience that led him to choose "Tactician" as his character class, having thought of it as a role most suited for him when it was offered to him.

Unfortunately, a majority of players considered Nacht's chosen class as useless or boring. The beta players rated it poorly and this opinion was imbedded in the players. Tacticians had no noteworthy personal skills and attributes because the class relied primarily on directing non-playable characters. However, despite the mockery and disdain Nacht endured in the early stages of playing, he grew fond of the unique playstyle his class provided.

In the game, players were able to gain reputation in the various organizations and factions scattered throughout the setting. Because no one cared to party with him, Nacht focused on completing quests for NPCs with his small band of NPC soldiers. His reputation among the militaries of the game's setting grew with time and eventually his class changed into "Strategist" (a more advanced version of his original class) and there were many high-ranking non-playable characters clamoring for him to join their kingdoms with the rank of a noble or general. He and his group would come to be called "The Black Cowls" for copious amount of black clothing and armor they wore.

After months of playing, Nacht took note of the intricate relationships a player character can have with non-playable characters. Though they were all AI, a majority of them all acted like they were real people. It was an astounding technological development and Nacht saw how many reacted similarly to how humans would. Not only that, the various leaders of several organization, factions, and even kingdoms changed with startling fluidity.

An idea sprouted Nacht, "What if I took advantage of this?"

He took the Black Cowls to the city-state of Caevum, a port city that served as a major trading hub between the frontier and the insular "safe" regions of the game. The region Caevum was settled in was mountainous, difficult to invade by land and sea. Even the ruling monarch's castle was carved into the face of the largest mountain that stood looking over the city and port. Nacht pledged his allegiance to the king of Caevum.

However, Nacht's pledge was only a ruse. In the game's history of Caevum, it was said that no outside force was ever able to conquer it. For Nacht, it was only a simple manner of manipulating his way into the trust of the king. In a move no other players thought was possible, he deposed the king of Caevum and executed him publicly. He then proclaimed to the masses that he was now their ruler. He was not to be their king, but their emperor.

In the castle of Caevum, after crowning himself as emperor, Nacht found a quest item that immediately changed his class to "Great Conqueror." There was a legend in the game that talked of a mighty emperor that once controlled the entire world. His conquest of Caevum triggered the quest and urged Nacht to continue forth with his mission. Spurred by the thought of war, political intrigue, and state administration, Nacht was more than willing to begin his conquest of the world.

Nacht began conquering and taking more and more territory, marking him as one of the hated villains in the game. Nevertheless, there were many that was willing to aid him on his ambition.

[User]
Nacht was unaware of the disagreements the others were having about his words and actions, and even if he did he wouldn't have cared. After he had finished making his piece, the Night's Emperor received an important missive from a player in the Black Cowls.

The rest of the message contained the list of traitors and their associated guilds. Frankly, he wasn't surprised. It wasn't as if many of them would reach the upper echelons of his organization. Nevertheless, it was bad if more and more turned up. Even the smallest of ants could cause a nuisance.

Nacht decided he would come up with a solution later. Just as he exited from the message, Datze had teleported the group into another area. Leave it to that man to do as he wished. It further irked him when he took command, but he acquiesced since he was the one leading the quest. Any other time would have been a different matter entirely.

As the Dragon God explained the plan, Nacht changed his outfit with a flick of his hand. No longer was he wearing his magnificent armor and cape, it was replaced with simple leathers that made him look more like a sellsword. However, his face still remained obscured. Though he was not wearing his iconic helm, he had replaced it with a bandana covering the lower half of his face. To the others that never had seen him in such clothing before would be surprised to learn of his young appearance, sharp gold eyes, and black hair.

"Datze, I'm a little disappointed in you. I can do far more than order NPCs around," he said amusedly. "Bonum, what is your plan? Please don't tell me you're simply going to ask people to aid you out of the goodness of their hearts?"

[Assistant]
"Oooh, that sounds really interesting," Hime clapped excitedly. "Hey Gray, we get to be on same team, fun huh?" she said to him, smiling brightly. She then turned to Datze and joked, "You just can't stay away from me, can you?"

She was glad that she could be useful in the quest. She was all excited to go, but quickly she realized that she didn't know where the guy that apparently had the journal was, and waited for Datze to take the lead. She waved goodbye to the rest of the group, as they separated to complete their tasks.

[User]
Bonum rubbed his head at Datze remark. It was hard to tell when Nacht was being serious or not, being such an avid roleplayer as he was. But he didn't have too long to be embarrassed by it before they were teleported off to Dural. Bonum visited the city often helping out with a few requests, he enjoyed the city even if it was as generic as they came. When told to equip something less conspicuous, he quickly searched his inventory and changed his white paladin outfit for a low-level dark grey one. Then he was told who his partner is and turned to Nacht.

"Well Nacht, there's only so much we can do incognito. But you should know as well as anybody how far a little charisma can go. But in case asking simply doesn't work, you and I have money, and I have a few items that might be useful with haggling with a few knowledgeable people. But if you have a better plan, then I am certainly all ears." He told him with a shrug. "I will suggest we check in the library and the marketplace for info before any other though. That's where knowledge and rumors usually reside."

[Assistant]
Nacht pondered over Bonum's suggestion—the White Knight knew better than to think he can order him after all. His idea had merit and would make for a good start on their task. Nacht glanced at his surroundings, filing away the minute details of this particular starting city. Dural Cairn was not spectacular by any means. He had conquered several cities that were the jewel of their neighbors. This city was nothing. However, it was nothing with a purpose. It served as a starting ground for many beginners.

Generic, Bonum's suggestion was too generic, thought Nacht. It was a good start and, normally, even his best agents would have started with the same kind of idea. However, anyone can think it. Beginners plagued the marketplace and library of any city. The Monster Café was meant to be hidden, away from the prying eyes of adventurers. Putting the information in those two areas only risked having idiotic newbies find the place and charge in the café to cause a ruckus.

Underneath his bandana, Nacht smirked. Turning to Bonum, he announced, "Your idea holds merit, but it's too obvious. We're in a beginner city. Those two places are where beginners go all too often. Why risk an information leak there? We need to head to the underworld. We need to talk to the lowest of the low, the scummiest of the scum, if we want our information."


[System]
Age: 22
Alignment: Chaotic Good-ish
Race: Human
Class: Thief
Appearance/Clothing:

Skills: Bluff, Acrobatics, Charm, Athletics, Sneak, Theft, Streetwise, Knife-Wielding, Knife-Throwing.
Natural Abilities: The power of average-ness.
Magic/Spells: Not a scrap of it.
Additional Information: Tobias isn't the strongest fighter, being far more suited to running, hiding, or bluffing his way out of situations (he's capable by normal person standards, of course - just not really what you'd expect from an adventurer). He's also a massive pathological liar with trust issues a mile wide.
Weapons: He has three knives - one on his belt, one on his back, and one in his boot.
Possessions: Leather armor, basic adventuring supplies (rope, flint and steel, etc.). His hood is enchanted to make it very hard for someone who sees him with it up to remember his face. He also has a magic grappling hook enchanted to not make a sound. Four potions of invisibility, each lasting fifteen minutes.
Personality: Tobias is glib, smart-alecky, cowardly, and tries his absolute best to be self-centered. Though he'd feverishly deny it, he's a fundamentally good person underneath the assumed selfishness. He tries not to let anyone get close to him, and often uses snark and flat out lies as armor in social interaction.
History: Getting the truth out of him about his personal history is extraordinarily difficult, but it's possible to determine that he's an orphan who grew up on the streets and has spent his life so far living in cities and alternating between pickpocket, con-man and cat burglar in order to survive.

Name: Oscar
Age: Interesting question for someone in his situation, but he's been how he is now for about three years.
Alignment: True Neutral
Race: Corpse
Class: Undead Juggernaut
Appearance/Clothing: His body is that of a clean-shaven man, aged 20-25, with short brown hair that doesn't grow anymore. His skin has grown taut and gray, pulled thin over the bones in his face. He never, ever blinks, so as a result dust has scratched his eyes until his iris and pupil are barely visible in the white. Physically, he's not very imposing - his body is actually distinctly weedy, at about 5'10" and looking to be around 130 pounds. He's still wearing the clothes he was when he woke up three years ago - the burial suit of a respected gentleman. However, constant use has worn it down considerably, making it stained and splotched where it isn't torn altogether.
Skills: Hand-to-Hand Combat (none of that fancy martial arts - Oscar does pankration), Intimidation, Brute Force.
Natural Abilities: Inhuman Strength, Inhuman Durability, Inhuman Speed (In a straight line, that is - if he can build up momentum and doesn't have to turn at all, Oscar can actually move pretty fast, more to the tune of 20 to 25 mph. He can't do this for longer than about two minutes, however, as his abysmal motor control will eventually catch up with him and he'll trip, converting his body into an undead missile of disaster)
Magic/Spells: None at all.
Additional Information: Oscar is half blind and deaf, has the motor control you'd expect of a dead body, no reflexes whatsoever and is about as maneuverable as a whale on land. This is counterbalanced by the fact that he barely feels pain, is immune to poison, is extraordinarily difficult to actually harm (without fire), and can punch holes in stone walls/tear people's limbs off. For help imagining his voice, try listening to these.
Weapons: None. He has his hands.
Possessions: The clothes on his back and a locket with a picture of a dark-haired woman inside. It's the only thing that calms him down when he starts berserking.
Personality: Oscar guides himself on one moral principle - bodies must be buried. He's generally very quiet and unperson-able, owing to the fact that he has no social skills. He has the potential to be very caring towards those who befriend him, not that that's really come up in his life yet. If someone managed to strike up a conversation with him, they'd find him... odd, always saying things that almost make sense. When threatened or surrounded by violence, he can plunge into a berserk fury of roars and snarls and dismemberments, acting largely on instinct.
History: Oscar woke up in a shallow grave three years ago with nothing but his clothes, his locket, and a head full of questions and half-faded memories. Since then he has wandered, trying vaguely to discover who he was and how it was he came to die, and what it was that called him to this dim, dismal half-life. He has hurt people who threatened him, and tried to help a few that didn't, but mostly he has kept to himself, going from place to place without really knowing why, seeking a purpose in his unlife.

[User]
Well, Vaeri knew the names of 8 of her companions now. Well sort of. Tobias, Zack, Fiona, Sana, Drizzak, somebody named Big Brut Pally Hugh, and Mortosh & Zam. Vaeri wasn't very good with human names, they tended to mix together in her head, so she assigned a word to each name that would help keep them together. Tobias' word would be worried. He did not appear to be a relaxed man. In fact, he was worried enough about payment to inquire about it almost immediately. Payment hadn't even crossed the elf's mind. Zack's word would be tall. Fiona would be scarlet. Vaeri always liked that word more than "red." Red was such a dull word, and Fiona did not look to be dull so far. Thus she would be scarlet, even if it did describe her hair better than the former. Sana's word would be mouthy. She sure did talk a lot in the 4 minutes she had been in the shop. Drizzak, Mortosh and Zam stood out enough that Vaeri was confident that she would remember them without needing to resort to having a keyword associated with them. Big Brut Pally Hugh was certainly distinctive enough to stick in her head, and she hadn't actually seen this person so even if there were need to add on a keyword, the cleric would have none to add.

Aside from the names, Vaeri took note of the robed man who walked in, took a bunch of items and then left without a word to anyone, the fact that they were being supplied with free vials and corks from Wyslen and apparently everyone was invited to the inn. After the rude scholar left, she stepped up to the crate and picked out enough vials to feel confident she would have enough to carry back to the Apothecary.

"Thank you for your gift, good sir." Vaeri said and performed a small bow of thanks to Wyslen. Vaeri stepped away from the counter and opened the bag at her hip, placed the empty vials and corks in before shutting it again. The cleric opened the door, but waved goodbye to her future travelling companions before leaving. Sana had suggested that everyone eat before leaving, but Vaeri had already eaten dinner before arriving in the village, she was in no rush to eat. Now where was this supposed in?

[Assistant]
True enough, the activity picked up as a few more souls entered the shop, looking to invest in this quest. By the words the Sister provided, so few others had attempted to take up this job before they had all arrived today - a curious coincidence, Hanzo supposed. Nevertheless, the staff passed out to each willing patron a list of just the rare ingredients they would need to find, with the assurance they were provided with everything else.

...'Tear of Eyewing'? 'Blood of Mist Dragon'? These were indeed exceptionally rare ingredients to find at all, and at first Hanzo found himself unable to quite fathom what sort of concoction would require these things. But, then again, the monk did know that Cinder Sickness was not exactly a 'natural' sort of plague, so perhaps that called for an unnatural sort of cure.

One of the more mysterious ladies that had arrived and made herself known within the group asserted that this job wasn't impossible. The roguish man was far less certain of that, him too being notably perplexed over these special extractions to be obtained. And then the situation simply grew more diverse, with a blood-spattered sorcerer that simply arrived to take a list and some containers, followed by an impish... imp? No, a goblin, rather; whatever the case, Sana was certain they had met before, apparently having been fellow adventurers in some past crusade.

Of course, all the strangeness did not stop the rapidly-forming party from eschewing courteous manners. Taking a quick cue from the mystical Sana's introduction, the fair crimson-haired girl introduced herself as Fiona, sparking a chain of names given out by each member:

Tobias was the cynical-sounding man accompanying Fiona, based on a few off-hand comments. The boisterous goblin was Drizzak, according to a surprised and then reassured Sana. The elfin maiden in holy garb was Vaeri, as she personally announced. Having arrived late, it took Hanzo a bit to piece together that the blaze-skinned tall man was called Zack. The strange undead with the yet stranger companion was Zam, and his companion Mortosh- no, wait, it was the other way around. Was it? Who was what, there? He had lost track in all the commotion. The monk furrowed his visage while racking his memory for the proper arrangement.

As Hanzo tried to relieve the pressure by claiming a few of the vials for his possession in the group, Sana moved to the exit, offering the group the idea of staying at the local inn for breakfast. The monk rolled over the prospect in his head, and decided it would be proper to accept and join in.

He came fully back to reality about when Sana mentioned that "Big Brut Pally Hugh" would be there; unfamiliar with her slang and having missed the context, Hanzo shot a brief look of puzzlement at the entrance where the gypsy had been standing, only to spot her already out the door. He breathed a quiet sigh through his nose and shook his head, somewhat exasperated over the turn of events that were playing out. "Quite a group we have assembled here," the lone traveler audibly mumbled.

One final thing still nagged at his mind, though- "Before I forget myself, you may call me Hanzo. I am just a traveling monk who happened upon this plight, looking to give whatever aid I can."