[System]
BASIC
Goes By (Nicknames): Maleficent (alter-ego); The Winged She-Elf; She-Devil, Devil's Incarnate (by Thorin); Delva, God-Mother (by Fili & Kili).
Royal Titles: Lady of Ambaróna/"Fangorn".
Other Titles: First Commander of Isengard, Sauron's Most-Trusted Servant (as Maleficent); The Watcher; Guardian of Durin's Folk.
Age: 5,739 (Looks 37-38)
Gender: Female
Race: Elven Hybrid (Sindarin and Noldor Bloodlines)
Other Bloodlines: Silvan and Teleri (Through her grandfather's relatives)
20/20 Elvish (10/20 Sindarin, 6/20 Noldor, 2/20 Silvan, 2/20 Teleri)

APPEARANCE
Face Claim: Angelina Jolie
Hair Color: Medium Brown
Eye Color: Yellow-Green (Boldly-luminous when furious/angry)
Skin Tone: Creamy
Height: 5' 8"
Weight: 119 lbs
Body Build: Slim

Finger Claws:

Curved Daggers:

Combat Outfit:

Dresses for Two Towers/Return of the King

Wing-Cloak

PERSONALITY
OVERALL PERSONALITY
Likes: Humans, Elves, Dwarves, Hobbits, Ents, Happiness, Animals, Peace, Music, Plant-Life, Training, Flying/Sightseeing, Yearly Seasons.
Dislikes: Death, War, Chaos, Greed, Spiders, Maleficent, Orcs, Sorrow.
Strengths: Fighting/Combat, Flight, Knowledge, Wisdom, Harsh Temperature Resistance, Protective/Affectionate Nature, Keen Senses, Agility.
Other Powers: Wallcrawling, Banshee Scream, Enhanced Strength, Telepathy, Telekinesis.
Weaknesses: Stubbornness, Loneliness, Anger, Vindictiveness, Split Personality.
Fears: Sauron, Losing Family.

Elegant | Unpredictable | Capable | Headstrong | Mysterious | Maternal | Observant | Intelligent

Everyone believed Saeril to be born as a creature of chaos and pure evil, but they just do not know the true story. In actuality, Saeril is a good-hearted, nurturing individual, who highly valued the peaceful natures of Middle-Earth, whilst having the passion to support and protect its various realms and inhabitants. Born during the First Age, Saeril is a strong-willed she-elf, and the last of an ancient Elven clan from Fangorn Forest. A very intelligent, loyal-to-the-bone perfectionist, who stays true to her word, she focuses on finding the best intentions for others, to the point of making great judgment calls, as much as willingly risking her life, in the process.

From the despair of her devastating past, following the Deceiver's corruption upon her mind, Saeril is truly hurt and very lonely inside, having to be caused by the guilt and horror of her cruel and malicious deeds, as well as the amount of pain and trauma she had to endure. After being rescued by Gandalf the Grey, she was left "more Orc than Elf", while her other alter-ego "Maleficent", a psychopathic representation of her corruption, still lingers within her mind. However, after Sauron's defeat, this other personality dissipated, giving back her natural Elven beauty.

The ultimate goal was to redeem and dissipate this inner darkness from within, but she never anticipated it to be a challenge when she rekindled herself with her Dwarven godsons Fili and Kili, whilst having to closely bond with a young she-elf named Yavanna, whom she had grown to love and deeply care for, as if she were her own daughter. Determined to protect both the Sons of Durin and the Bright Star of Middle-Earth, Saeril will become extremely aggressive and violent, whenever someone threatens, or has inflicted any sort of harm to them; as this contrasts her more-gentle nature, she will be blunt and gladly let the offenders know the price. In addition, since witnessing the death of Fili, she will go to great lengths, if it means to prevent Kili and Yavanna from falling under the same fate.

Both as "Maleficent" and herself, Saeril is a ruthless, immensely-formidable warrior in her own right; despite withholding a certain elegance, she's truly a very deadly foe for anyone who'd dare challenge her personally. A vast majority of her strength came from the enchantment Sauron had placed upon her, as well as the supernatural connection he was able to forge between them; even while she was formerly his chief of the Isengard legion, she possessed a number of abilities that have allowed her to stand her own, and even overpower the most skilled of individuals. Due to this connection, she's able to enhance these abilities. She also shows herself to have great telepathic power; either taught or naturally inherited from her parents and/or ancestors, she can read the minds of others, conjure up visions through physical touch, and receive thoughts from a certain distance.

Saeril will not hesitate to comfort, guide, or advise others when they seem to need it. Proud, proper, and almost-completely fearless, she will never bow to anyone she disagrees with. Evident by her relationship with Thorin Oakenshield, it's complicated when it comes to terms of the trust; she betrayed him (as he claimed) by "stealing" the starlight jewels from his treasure hoard for King Thranduil. Although she was claimed as not "trusting", Saeril openly showed that she cared a great deal for him, saving his life multiple times on different occasions.

BACKGROUND
Place of Birth: Fangorn Forest (Also known as Ambaróna).
Family:
- Kili Durin (Godson; Alive) (Dwarf)
- Fili Durin (Godson; Deceased) (Dwarf)
- Dis Durin (Co-parent; Alive) (Dwarf)
- Vili Durin (Co-parent; Deceased) (Dwarf)
- Hermia (Mother; Deceased) (Noldor Elf)
- Lysander (Father; Deceased) (Sindarin Elf)
- Ulla (Aunt; Deceased) (Sindarin Elf)
- Kinloch (Uncle; Deceased) (Sindarin Elf)
- Kriva (Grandmother; Deceased) (Noldor Elf)
- Disgla (Grandfather; Deceased) (Silvan/Teleri Elf)
- Fidnai (Great-Grandmother; Deceased) (Teleri Elf)
- Sahov (Great-Grandfather; Deceased) (Silvan Elf)

Other Relations:
- Gandalf the Grey/White (Mentor/Friend; Alive) (Maiar)
- Thorin Oakenshield (Friend; Deceased) (Dwarf)
- Aragorn II Elessar (Friend; Alive) (Man)
- Lord Elrond (Acquaintance; Alive) (Half-Elf)
- Tauriel (Acquaintance; Alive) (Silvan Elf)
- Haldir (Acquaintance; Alive) (Silvan Elf)
- Gimli (Acquaintance; Alive) (Dwarf)
- Thranduil Greenleaf (Acquaintance/Friend; Alive) (Sindarin Elf)
- Legolas Greenleaf (Acquaintance/Friend; Alive) (Sindarin Elf)
- Yavanna Undomiel (Friend/Daughter-Figure; Alive) (Elven Hybrid; Mortal/Sindarin/Noldor)
- Bilbo Baggins, Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Peregrine Took, and Meriadoc Brandybuck (Acquaintances/Friends; Alive) (Hobbits)
- Azog the Defiler & Bolg (Enemies; Deceased) (Gundabad Orcs)

[User]
Being stopped by Thorin, didn't stop Fili, unfortunately. All his eldest nephew DD was glare at his uncle, and yank his arm away from his grip. Walking towards Kili, he stood next to him, like he always did during their youth.

Back in the Masters house, Bofur is passed out drunk under a table when he hears trumpets. "By my beard, is that the time!?", he shouted with slurred speech before he rises until banging his head on the table. He then rushes out to join the dwarves on the dock. "Wait!"

"Go now with our good will. And may your return bring fortune to all!", the Master announces before the crowd cheers with the company setting off on the barge down the lake. At the same time, Bofur pushes through the crowd, but when he reaches the dock, he sees the rest of the company has left, and is too far down the lake for him to reach. While this was happening, Saeril and Yavanna stayed by Kili and Fili, as they watched the boat float away.

"I can't believe he would just leave us like that!", Fili growled angrily. Bofur looked to the side, hearing Fili's voice and smiled. "Oh, did you all miss the boat as well?"

"Aye, we have. We'll need to get this one indoors", Oin was grateful that Fili and the two she-elves showed up. Kili's condition hadn't stopped him from being stubborn, and he doubted he would have been allowed to get very far in tending to his injury.

"Kili?", Saeril heard Fili say, as soon as the blonde felt his brother's weight give out next to him. "Kili!?", Kili looked like he was about to pass out, having to almost fall on the spot. Hurrying to catch him, and before he could fall to the ground, the elder she-elf cradled him. Moving his ebony black hair from his face, he was in pain. Please, not now, she thought to herself. "Come on", she told the others as she held Kili in her arms, carrying him closely against her chest.

[Assistant]
As Yavanna watched the boat sail away; she noticed Bilbo had glanced back at their little group worried. Thorin was at the front of the Barge, looking towards the Lonely Mountain as the Barge Sailed. The young she-elf was worried about Kili...he looked whiter than the palest sand. Worse than a ghost really.

"I have a bad, feeling about this." Yavanna muttered softly, as she heard Fili. She then glanced to the side seeing Bofur; he looked dissapointed, that he missed the boat. She smiled at him softly. With Sympathy. She then gasped seeing Kili almost fall over. "Kili." she said softly...he just groaned in pain, as Saeril scooped him up.

This really was bad timing. The small part of the company, walked through Lake Town. Trying to get some help for Kili, but pretty much all closed their doors...not knowing how to help a sick Dwarf. And so they ended up at Bard's doorstep again. Yavanna knocked on the familiar door..When Bard opened the door. He didn't look happy.

"No...I am done with Dwarves...go away!" He tried to close the door on them.

Yavanna caught the door, with Bofur's help. "No please...we don't know where else to go." Yavanna said.
"Kili's sick." Bofur said, glancing over his shoulder...Kili looked even more worse..barely able to keep his eyes open "He's very very sick."


[System]
Age: Unknown (Part of the mystery!)

Race: 'Gifted' human

A healthy, radiant complexion and brilliant emerald irises make for a pleasant first-glance at the woman. Though the lack of sun-starved, pale skin may leave one wondering if the woman isn't from some sunbathed region. The smooth accent rolling from her tongue indicates otherwise, though it is difficult to place.

Keen features add to the intensity of her gaze; high cheekbones and a sharp jawline furthering the appearance of ferocity that goes well beyond the woman's underlying wolfish nature.

Raven locks fall to her lower back--assuming the woman has actually let them loose. It's more often she's seen with her hair twisted into a careful knot or a neat ponytail.

The result of ceaseless, almost obsessive, training is difficult to conceal behind any given attire. Her thick frame is undoubtedly more muscle than fat--though it offers a contrast to the sharpness of her visage if one takes the time to note the curvature of her figure.

Few scars are visible on her form, though on the occasion they are it would seem the woman bears very few. Faint lines cross her chest diagonally, similar lines replicating the effect on her upper back. Nicks and slender markings are scattered over her flesh here or there, the lines having grown so faint it is difficult to take note of them at all.

She exudes confidence bordering on a cocky attitude. Every graceful step is taken with a sureness, a sense that the woman is never second-guessing where she's headed; even if it's simply to slip inside a tavern for an evening drink.

Elizabeth has an unusual set of powers. While she is known for her excellence in studying shadow oriented magics, her origin leaves her with the additional benefit of her God's blessing; sharp eyesight, a sensitive sense of smell, and a pair of canines that seem almost out of place though they are relatively small. Her athletic abilities are increased as a result of this blessing. (See history for further explanation!). She has training in acrobatics, necessary medicine (field medic), and maintains the ability to utilize materials to create curious little trinkets littered with magic that produced unusual results.

Throughout Elizbeth's form the glint of steel is noticeable.

- A total of 10 throwing blades rest at her thighs, three strapped to the outer thighs, two to the inner thighs. This protects those vital arteries as well as provides additional weapons!

- Two daggers are sheathed at her hips, carrying a curious, deep violet glow.

- The inside of her boots are lined with much smaller blades, far too small to be adequate weapons in combat. Each was coated with a carefully crafted poison.

- A flintlocke bearing ornate designs, elven in nature, remains holstered toward the back of her belt.

- A bag clearly impacted by magic carries far more than it should.

- Though her pauldrons are small in appearance, clever tinkering has lead to their lining... tubing that connects one pauldron to a canister concealed in the other. When activated it releases a gaseous neurotoxin.

- Hidden beneath her leather bracers is a spring activated blade (Assassin's Creed style yes, sue me!).

South of the primary human Kingdom of Peilos rests the much smaller, secluded Kingdom of Lyceum (lie-see-uhm). The walled in region is tucked away on the southern coast, buried in a sea of pines and everpresent fog. The constant rain makes it a least favorite destination on any tourists lists, and if that didn't scare off the average traveler, the stories very well might. The Lycians (lie-see-ahn) were a separate community of humans, defected from their primary peoples thousands of years prior to the culmination of the great war between the elves and the humans. Though it began as a religious community, the dedication of their priests brought them the gift of their god. He was known simply as 'the great wolf'. If he had a name, no one spoke it, and the rumors that trickled from the once open city were twisted and altered over time. The humans there had been granted exceptional strength and speed, their grace no less benefited from the blessing though they become a brutal foe. The grin of a Lycian offered a showcase of pearly white, deadly teeth. The signature of these "creatures" as they were now deemed, was the brilliant yellow coloration of their eyes.

Elizabeth overtly was nothing particularly special. With a heavy hood to hide her features, none would know she carried any such blessing. Dark leathers constantly adorned her form, the woman's choice of accessory always the glint of steel. She was but a simple traveler if she was allowed to keep that hood on. This comfort did not last.

In the beginning she was known only within the walls of her own home. An accomplished assassin, rising through the heavily corrupted ranks of her city. Having separated themselves with thick stone walls and heavy iron gates, the citizens of the region had become reclusive, and ultimately infighting had begun. Their newfound immortality (or so it is rumored) lead to the realization that none would pass on to allow another to inherit title, to work along the ladder of nobility through not only achievement but the death of others. Assassination was more than a carefully concealed profession within these walls, it was a lifeblood. The very essence of the city. It's recent history was bathed in blood.

It was no surprise then that during the war a curious letter found itself on Elizabeth's desk, a sophisticated loopy script detailing the events of the greater world beyond those gates, and the need for someone as talented as her. She left the safety of her walls, of the towering pines and constant storm clouds, only to find herself ostracized.

While her work in the war had earned her heavy praise from her allies, her enemies were far less keen, and those bright yellow eyes made it clear she was not 'pure' in her humanity. Her home likewise had turned, shutting their gates in the interest of maintaining their reclusive status, naming Elizabeth nothing short of a traitor to their tiny nation.

[User]
"The Queen is researching a solution to help us deal with the humans my dear. If she needed us she would of sent word. And I have been building this manor under her orders and have not yet had sufficient time to send correspondence. Though, I have been thinking of acquiring one of those human pets that others seem to have. You know, the ones that do things for you?? That would be just so convenient." Suddenly a stoic woman emerged from the bushes and walked right up, demanding of she could be helped.

"My, my, what have we here Lizzie Poo?? Seems one of the nomadic elves from the desert have received one of my letters. The poor thing is practically glowing!! This truly is delicious." Thortan half chuckled to himself. "Of course darlin'. All who seek refuge shall be welcomed with open arms. If they have a letter of course. Pray tell, what is it that seems to ail you??" Thortan reached out to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, and noticed she burned to the touch. His smile only grew.

"Seems the young ones fire is basically burning out of control. Well we can't have that destroying the manor that was incredibly difficult to build, now can we?? You must find a calm little firefly, in that flame is a white hot center. Inside it, is the source of your flame. Bathe in it, claim it as yours, right now it holds sway in you. You must wrest it's control and make it yours, lest it swallow you in a delicious conflagration that will sorely swallow you and those around you. Not many all called on to have this much elemental magic, the Dates must of seen great potential in you to gift your birth in such a way. Not that those three old cronies always know best, they try." Thortan said his smile giving way to a mischievous smirk.

[Assistant]
Lia looked up into this mans eyes and was unable to read him. Either way he was frustrating. Saying essentially what every single other teacher had said. She was destined, she must conquer the fire, embrace it. Yea thats great, Lia thought, fine and fucking dandy, until she scorched the earth and heats the lake near by and boils all the wild life because she "embraced her fire."
 "What makes you able to help me?" Her tattoos pulsed just once, her temper lifting its sleepy head inside her belly, one eye brow raised and a smile beginning to spread on its etheral self. She didnt want to be proven stupid for another wild goose chase. She could live out her life in the volcanic dunes of Demi. She slid the crushed letter from her back jean pocket, holding it out for inspection.

[User]
It was nearly instantaneous, and without a doubt the involuntary response after having spent so much time on the run; at the sound of footsteps padding out of the forests Elizabeth had turned, her stature shifting and one hand resting at the pommel of a blade. Had she not seen the growing glow that indicated a non-human had approached, it was entirely possible she'd have drawn her blade with exceptional speed. Her posture eased only minutely once she'd taken in the appearance of the newcomer, and two steps had been taken to offer the elven woman some space as she spoke to Thortan.

Not a word was offered, only the shrewd gaze of the Lycian. It was a piercing stare that often left people feeling as if Elizabeth was looking right through them, analyzing their every thought and breath. It wasn't entirely inaccurate, she was exceptional at reading people, but she certainly wasn't staring into the depths of their souls with a simple glare. After a moment's pause Liz brought her cigarette to her lips, taking a deep pull and allowing the near-poisonous fog to rest in her lungs for a moment or two. As the smoke oozed from her nostrils she took an additional step, to the side this time in the event they moved inside.

She made no attempt to introduce herself, nor did she reach out to offer a hand. The accent that rolled from the elven woman's tongue was recognizable. Elizabeth, the overachiever that she was, was fluent in several languages. She had no doubt she would be able to catch onto the dialect of whatever tribe this newcomer was from, though it offered little solace to the guest, as she did not voice it.

Her only commentary was offered with her typical cynical viewpoint on any god that was not her own, or Erebus himself.

"The fates are nothing more than three old gossiping women with a terrible sense of humor."

[Assistant] Lia's gaze narrowed and flicked over to the Other one smoking a cigarette. It wasn't as though Lia intended to be rude, being a nomad her whole life introductions were pointless and not usually navigated. She assessed the woman quickly, noting the womans hand resting on the hilt of her sword. No sudden startles around this one then. Most likely, sneaking around would be useless as well. She gave a firm nod of recognition and turned her gaze back towards the Host, Mr. Masters. She could tell the woman was attempting to read her, and as Lia was an open, volatile gash of rage on good days, she wasnt too concerned with what the woman gleaned. Keeping her snarly fire in check took most of her energy, and left little for things like worrying about first impressions or what other emotion she would be giving away. Lia was more about actions and less about emotional politics and guess work. Her eyes briefly flitted to the cigarette in the womans hand, a pang of longing for a hookah with decent shisha assaulted her before she took a deep breath and returned her gaze to Mr. Masters.

[User]
Liz, as jumpy as always pulled a knife on the burning girl, who at the same time pulsed angrily. Thortan once again placed a hand on the young elves shoulder. The heat slowly building to meltdown proportions.

"My dear, there really is nothing me, or the pup over there can do. There has been but a handful with your strength of fire to ever walk this earth. You must learn to control this ability those meddling crone's wove into your thread of life. I can tell you, that I am your equivalent with the power of darkness. So I truly know the boat your in. Fire is anger, it is the elements cleansing force. Clearing the way for all the other elements to build on it's recently baptized path. You must understand the emotion behind your element. For you are focusing on just the anger. Fire also represents passion, my young firefly. It burns away impurities to reveal the truth underneath. Both my fine furry friend and I, can see you are angry. It will not be easy, but allow the fire to burn off that rage and you may yet claim it's passion underneath." Thortan coughed and waved away Liz's billowing smoke.

"New rule, you can't smoke in the house, it's smelly and annoying. And if you burn your fur, I will laugh!!" He said mockingly.

[Assistant]
Brilliant, yellow irises drifted toward Thortan with his latest round of commentary, a sound similar to 'tchah' offered under her breath. The woman bore no fur, nor was she overtly wolf like save for the canines that extended within her mouth. Had it not been for the eyes, she'd have been mistaken as human. A sigh escaped too at the utilization of the word pup and she shook her head.

The cigarette itself had been snuffed out, her hand coming away from the hilt of her blade as she let the half finished smoke disappear in a brief swirl of shadow magic. "I won't smoke in the common areas, but I'll be damned if you tell me I can't smoke in my own room." A quiet had settled over her features as she returned her gaze to Ophelia, a brief smile coming to her lips.

[Not in 'English'!]"The god my people worship granted us a blessing based in rage, as well. Like the territorial instinct of a wolf we growl, snap and bite at those that even appear to wrong us. Calming the anger was the first step to learning how to navigate our gifts. It appears we have a thing or two in common." The words did not come out in the common dialect of the humans, but rather in the native tongue of the desert elves. It was smooth and without error, though it was the most common form of the language, and not spoken with any particular dialect in mind.


[System]
Age: 143
Alignment: Lawful Good
Race: Elf
Class: Cleric/Barbarian
Appearance/Clothing:

Vaeri is an innocent looking elf, standing at about 5' 7" (170 cm) with long, straight raven hair that extends down to the base of her back, pale skin and bright blue eyes. At a glance she's quite beautiful with full lips, a small button nose, thin eyebrows and high cheekbones, when one takes a closer look, several tiny scars are visible all over, disfiguring her otherwise graceful looks. Likewise, Vaeri's exposed flesh, the rare times one can see them initially appear smooth and untouched, but upon closer inspection are covered in scars and barely contain wiry muscle below.

Vaeri dresses as a lady of the cloth should, with a dark blue full body cloak. The fabric is adorned with intricate patterns in white to provide visual contrast and indicating her status as a clergywoman. Around her neck and outside the cloak, Vaeri wears a necklace bearing the holy symbol of her god. However, underneath the cloak is a full set of leather armor, battle ready and kept in top shape at all times.

Skills: Concentration, Sense Motive, Knowledge (Religion), Knowledge (Nature), Climb, Jump, Sleight of Hand, fletching arrows, surviving out in the wild
Natural Abilities: Keen senses, the ability to see better than humans in low light
Magic/Spells: Heal: @Afina can decide how good this is
Tongues: Allows the caster to speak any language for the duration of the spell
Turn Undead: Vaeri can attempt to make Undead flee from her presence temporarily. Powerful Undead can resist this.
Divine Might: Holy power infuses the caster, temporarily making them more powerful and resilient
Flame Strike: Smites foes with holy flames
Additional Information: Vaeri worships Menhit, lion-goddess of War. (Fun fact her name means She who massacres)
Weapons: Vaeri carries a composite shortbow and a two-handed battleaxe
Possessions: On Vaeri's right ring finger is a ring of protection. One her back she carries a backpack that can hold more than you think it would and what Vaeri wants from the bag will always be at the top (the item in question must have been put in the bag beforehand for this to work). Inside the bag are her necessities (tent, rope, bedroll, tarp for the tent, soap, cooking utensils, oil, a lamp, flint and steel), holy texts, 8 vials complete with cork stoppers, 3 vials of Inflict Wounds potions, a Scroll of Gust of Wind, and about 2 weeks worth of rations. She also has a coin purse with about 20 gold pieces in it. On her hip is a quiver with 20 arrows.
Personality: To strangers, Vaeri appears to be a gentle elf, always keen to help those in need and be a travelling force of good in the world. However, as you get to know her, slowly she morphs into an entirely different person, brash, head-strong and a braggart, this true face of Vaeri shows exactly why she worships the goddess she does. The elf loves battle of all kinds and will gleefully jump into battle whenever she can.
History: Vaeri grew up in a forest village mostly populated by other elves to a carpenter. IN her childhood, she began learning the bow as all children did. Her prowess with weaponry was admired just as much as her excessive enthusiasm for using them was worrying. One day while out hunting alone she was overcome by a vision of the lion-goddess Menhit who commanded Vaeri to go out into the world and find a man with two right hands. After this experience, Vaeri began following the goddess of war and has dedicated her life to this mission. The cleric has been following this notice for strong adventurers as a possible lead for locating this mysterious man.

Name: Kazuo Blaide
Age: 22
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Race: Human (with slight traces of elven blood)
Class: Samurai (Ronin)
Appearance/Clothing: Image WIP
Basic description: 5' 11", lean muscular build, tan skin, long wavy black hair, slightly pointed ears thick arched eyebrows, hard brown eyes, stubble from forgetting to shave last week. Wears common street wear (no armor) but with his sword at his hip and sandals instead of more conventional close-toed shoes.
Skills: Katana Specialization, Daikyu Specialization, Punching Specialization (3), Etiquette, Riding (Land-Based), Reading/Writing, Navigation, Weather-sense, Blind Fighting, Mountaineering, Weapon Smithing
Natural Abilities: N/A
Magic/Spells: Focus Energy - With a loud yell, Kazuo focuses his ki to temporarily boost his strength to the absolute limit of human potential for 1 minute.
Additional Information: * Father: Ukon Bootsnatcher (Wandering Ronin)
* Mother: Mira Blaide (Master of the Blaide School of martial arts)
* Uncle: Hiron Bootsnatcher (Funnily enough also a martial artist)
* Family Friends: Mazon Rohtar (Half-orc Warrior Singer; married to Hana)
Hana Rohtar (Gnome Bard/mage; married to Hana)
Elincia Nartolia (Human cleric)
Kanti Dryearurdrenn (Elf Ranger who is coincidentally Vaeri's distant cousin)

Weapons: A Katana, his fists
Possessions: A black horse named Trombe whose saddlebags carry a tent with a tarp, a bedroll, 10 days of trail rations, a fire starter, a mess kit, 4 pints of oil, a hooded lantern, a waterskin, a straight razor, a utility knife and 50 feet of hemp rope.
Personality: Kazuo, like his mother is a quiet person, who rarely speaks when he doesn't need to, and like his father, has a habit of getting easily bored. Unlike either of his parents, Kazuo is a rather forgiving man, able to let insults and slights against his person pass. One thing that runs strong in his blood is a love of conflict and competition. The variety and outcome of the competition does not matter, the rush he gets from giving his all against somebody doing the same is what he lives for, and he'll seek this feeling out even if it proves to be self-destructive in the long run.
History: Kazuo's mother was a Half-Elf monk and his father was a human samurai. He did not get to know his father very well, only able to meet him a few times during his life, and his mother would tell very little about him. Apparently they knew each other from some running tally they had of dueling to the death and somehow that ended in a tryst that produced him.

Kazuo's mother, Mira was a harsh woman who commanded strength and grace that was almost otherworldly. Her beauty was undercut by rage and bloodlust barely kept under wraps. Her bloodlust was so great it seemed to almost materialize in combat and it colored her ki, a normally invisible force a dark purple. She did her best to raise Kazuo as gently as possible, but even her smoothest side was like a cat's tongue. When he grew old enough, Mira tried to teach him the ways of her school of martial arts. She had been the last member of the school, and had dedicated her life to rebuilding it from the ground up. Kazuo's body was able to learn the physicality of the art well, but he lacked his mother's talent to utilize ki, only able to boost his strength with it.

Kazuo's father, Ukon was a wandering samurai, a Ronin. His skills with the quickdraw technique allowed him to cut down all but the hardiest of men with a single motion of his blade. Brash, perpetually battle-hungry and a bit dull-witted, Ukon did not even know he had a son until Kazuo was 15. As a kind of apology/gift for reaching manhood, Ukon bequeathed upon Kazuo his spare katana, but left without teaching him how to use it. Mira knew the basics of swordsmanship, so seeing her son's attachment to the weapon taught him what little she knew, leaving the rest to him.

Upon reaching his 18th birthday, Mira grew tired of trying to teach him to properly use his ki, and remembered how she had grown when she traveled the countryside. So she kicked him out and, "Come back when you're a successor I can be proud of." Since then, Kazuo has traveled the lands trying to become strong enough for his mother to accept him.

[User]
All it took was a scream to get Drizzak up and into motion. One familiar scream and he was up in a flash, fully awake and fully ready to act. He was naked besides his loincloth, sure, but putting them on could mean death for him. The cold was just too much. Instead, he grabbed for his blade and made for the direction of the scream. It was Sana that screamed, he remembered the sound from their previous adventures together. She was a tough woman, and only screamed when bad things were well and truly bad.

He reached the others relatively quick, his shorter legs failing to hamper his speed as he sprinted to the scene of the crime.

"What is happen!? Where Sana? Why you have bow?"

Drizzak barked at the group, and at the one holding Sana's bow. He could smell strange scents on the air, but his nose was not as good as he wished it was. He was getting heated up. This was very bad, what could have taken her? Surely someone saw it?

[Assistant]
Shela thick brows arched as her head turned towards looked over to Kazuo, having to hold her composure but failing miserably. "Haha, what she said," she said sniggering under her breath. Apparently it didn't matter how old the dwarf woman was, she still have the mind of an adolescent teen when it came to some things. Much of the group came barreling over to the scene rather quickly but others, they seemed to linger behind; which seemed rather odd to Shela. Sana seemed to have the biggest mouth in the bunch, which usually denoted the leader. If not the leader the one that drew the most attention and that scream had been rather bone chilling. It wasn't a scream of anger or a rant, that was a scream of pure terror and to leave ones weapon behind only added to the bad juju that seemed to be swirling around.

 "What do ya mean *poof*? Peoples dun just go *poof*! Well maybe they do when caught in dragon fire but that be more of a sizzle and ash than a *poof*," Shela grumbled as she walked over and snatched Sanas bow from the woman and picked up the arrow out of the ground, securing both to her belt. "Those don't be yours girlie," she added before looking over towards the fiery red head. "Yeah, that girl dun gone *poof*, she got a horse right? We better be putting this with it," Shela said before she looked down at her stomach and placed her hand against it as the ground seemed to shake.

 "Okay, that ain't me this time," she said looking up and then around before she spun around in the direction of the cause of the rumble through the earth. "Bloody hell," she yelled as she gripped her hammer tight in her fingers and lowered her stance as a monstrosity came out of the forest. "Be more things crawling out of the woods than vanishing in them. Why this thing not go *poof*?" she said looking over at the two headed ogre. "I mean, I be thinking if something need to go *poof* and the choices are a drenched twig or a towering," she began motioning with her thick fingers. "Thing! Well I'd bet me hearth that I be making that go *poof*!"

 "You be the one making women go *poof* in the night?" Shela asked in harsh tone pointing to both the new woman on the scene and the towering juggernaut.

[User]
"Yeesh, take it, thank you!" Zoe said, glad to have the dwarf woman take the bow off her hands. It was causing way more trouble than it was worth. There was a goblin here now, and a man pointing a sword at her, asking her name, and the redhead girl still hadn't gotten off her horse or stopped looking at her. They were a very angry bunch, these people, and while Zoe had quite a bit of magic, none of it could make people just disappear.

Fiona pulled her horse up alongside Shela, holding her hand out expectantly. "I'll take the bow, if you don't mind. I think it might go over better if Sana gets it back from me." The dwarf and Sana hadn't made the best first impression on each other, as she recalled. That, and Shela didn't seem the type to take the best care of her possessions. She could've been wrong, but it was just a hunch.

Before any transaction could be made, however, a two-headed tower of meat and muscle trampled onto the scene, demanding to know who had gone poof. Fiona was unable to stop herself from drawing her sword, narrowing her eyes at the ogre and holding her horse steady.

Zoe had taken the opportunity to take both her and her floating light behind the tree, putting them more or less in between her and the ogre. When he made no move to attack the lot of them, though, she stepped back out, her face set into a hard scowl, though she looked anything but fearsome.

"Listen, okay? Everybody just calm down." She held out her hands as though it would somehow helped push all their nasty emotions and violent urges away. "You're all taking poof a little too literally. All I know is that she came to this spot, and when I got here, she was gone. There are no tracks leading away from here, so... maybe something grabbed her, that doesn't go on the ground. We could check the trees for any sign of her. I have light with me here, I can use it to look around." She turned and looked back at Derrix. "It's Zoe, by the way. I've got a bigger name, but we'll save that for when we're friends."

"I'm Fiona," the redheaded girl said, introducing herself, to both Zoe and the ogre, though she was obviously still wary of the creature, and had yet to sheathe her sword. "If we're settled on not killing each other," Fiona continued, "I'd like to look around for any clues of Sana. Not doing any good standing here."

[Assistant]
Kazuo pursed his lips at Shela's snickering. He deserved it. But the important matter at hand was that this Sana lady had disappeared, either by some odd magic or maybe carried off by a giant bird. When the giant two-headed ogre burst through the trees, he had to take a hand off his sword to keep Trombe from rearing.

"Easy, easy." He still wasn't sure if he could trust this Zoe girl or if he'd have to cut up the ogre, but really, he really wasn't sure what to do at all. Looking through the wilderness for people who up and disappeared wasn't his strong suit. It was dark and although the magician, (assuming she wasn't the one who poofed Sana) had a ball of light with her, it could only illuminate so much at one time. The more he thought about it, the more this seemed like a lost cause.


[System]
Nickname:
Karn

Race:
Demi-Human(Feline Variety)

Age:
21

Gender:
Female

Appearance:

Weight: 125 lb
Height: 5'0
Frame: Skinny but toned. Mildly frail looking.
_______________________

Personality:-
Karn is a rather... difficult person to get along with for most people. Generally, her face remains the same calm neutral though it can often change to a mild amused smirk. Mature and calm. Though she does tend to be sarcastic, quick witted, sharp tongued, a smart-ass, and not hesitating to be brutally honest as well as say whatever is on her mind or state her opinion. She also enjoys joking around and teasing others. Her attitude often gives the impression that she's a loner, but she's fully capable with working with others. And despite what some may call a irritating attitude, she has a kind heart and is fiercely loyal to her friends and family. Quite a lot of times, she enjoys just trying to get on others nerves and lose their cool. No real reason other than to study their reaction. She hardly shows much respect for others, besides certain individuals and will more or less treat everyone about the same. She'll make flirty comments, though whether she is actually serious is a bit a mystery. Most likely just another way to get a reaction out of someone. Mostly if she finds them to be amusing. A lot of times she enjoys making terrible jokes as well. Or talking to herself. She also quite loves machines and studying them, finding them fascinating. Especially Airships. Really likes sweets. She often doesn't care of appearance if she can help it, so her blonde hair tends to be fluffy and messy. Nor is she very afraid of grime and just leaving it there. She's very brave and there are few things she's afraid of.

Job:
Thief, Performer, Engineer for the Tantalus Group.

Fighting Style:
Karn's main weapon in a fight is hand to hand combat, wearing metal under her knuckled gloves and in her boots heels and toe to increase her attack strength. Hits fast and hard. Expert in Hand-To-Hand combat using the Jeet Kune Do style. Using her speed to make rapid punches and rake up damage in fast succession.

Weapons from strongest to weakest: -
Fighting Gloves, Daggers, whip.

Armors/Outfits
She mostly wears very light clothing in order to have the best mobility and speed. So the only heavy equipment she has on her is her gloves. It makes her agile and quicker with some powerful hits, but that means she doesn't exactly have anything protecting her other than her dodging skills.

 Weight Class:
Light

Familiar:

Familiar Abilities:
Lightning Magic. Gives immunity/absorbs Lightning Magic. Able to either call forth Lightning bolts as offensive or increase speed. Resistant to Water, Weak to Earth.

Movement Type:
Walk and Run

Familiar Size:
Large

Relic Weapons:
Electric Gloves encased in electricity, lighter and faster then her regular gloves.

Relic Armors:
A golden circlet and electrified golden bracers..

Trance:
In Trance mode, her physical strength and speed increase by double. She grows a bit more fangs from her upper lip like a sabertooth tiger and fur grows a bit along her arms and her tail gets a bit longer.
Hercule Trance: She keeps the golden circlet and bracers, but her tail fur poofs up like she got electrocuted, her hair also grows out a bit like she has a mane. Claws get longer.

Pros-
She is quick and hits hard. And is well trained in combat, and is able to sneak around.

Cons-
Her magic is actually quite lacking. She's quite poor in utilizing it other than Haste. And she has absolutely no defense. If she gets hit, she often gets hurt more than the average person. She has a bit of a illness that she needs to take medication every morning and evening. Doesn't run so hot without her daily dosage.

Racial Strengths-
Able to utilize multiple weapons.

Racial Weaknesses-
Is unable to utilize most magic abilities without familiar aid.

Sets: Leave this blank for the time being. All this is, is equipment sets. Usually just outfits and items that you switch between.

Background:
Karn grew up pretty poor with her mother, father, and older step brother in Lindbulm. She was the runt of the litter and was often teased for her tiny stature. Her father and brother looked a lot more like a cat than herself, while her mother was a ordinary human. Well. Somewhat. Her mother was a bit weird, quirky and unique. As well as a martial artist. At the age of ten, her mother grew deathly ill. Her parents had a falling out and left one another five years prior, so now it was just her and her mother. Desperate, she started resorting to stealing in order to feed her ill mother. Back then, she got caught quite a bit more and dragged home. Her mother scolded Karn, but appreciated what she was trying to do. After a year, her mother died and Karn was alone. Five years, she continued stealing on the streets for what she needed in order to survive. But now she questioned why she was surviving. Was there a purpose? Did it matter anymore? What she wanted was gone and couldn't be given. No fancy coin or precious gem seemed to compare to the desire to have her mother. It was all just useless things that wasn't required for her survival unless she wanted to buy things, but by now she was notorious in theft so there was little point in shopping. What purpose was there for her to be alive? Why should she? Why couldn't it have been her instead of her mother?

She didn't have anything nor anywhere or anyone to return to, she had to resort to living on the street. Stealing food and what she needed to survive. Training her body to be agile an quick, climbing up buildings and free running in order to get away from pursuit. Hiding and having to use stealth to hide from pretty much any watchful eye. Traveling in darkness or shadows, using trickery during the day to steal from food vendors. She mostly avoided open fights unless absolutely necessary. Stealth was more of a challenge anyway. Now most of the time, she just went about enjoying messing with guards in their pursuit and only really stole food. Having no real wish for cushy things or items that were useless to her. She had no wish, no dream, just survival. It was all she had really, and it was quite a empty existence. It was then that one day after five years from when her mother died, she saw the Prima Vista. A Airship of a supposed Theatre group called the Tantalus Theater Troupe. They were quite famous in Lindbulm for being performers.

Karn didn't quite care about plays though, she was interested in their airship. For the first time, she felt interest for something that wasn't food. Something that wasn't really for survival. Of course, she used it as a excuse that if she had a airship, she could escape should security get too tight. But she wanted that airship. She wanted to fly in the sky. Feel free as much as her mother was free spirited. Karn had little to lose as she didn't have anything to lose. A theatre troupe was probably the easiest to pull a quick one over compared to those guarded by guards anyway. So, she conducted a plan to steal the Prima Vista right under the performers noses. It was quite difficult, it required to watch and study their routine on a daily basis and look for opening. Until one day there was a small gap and she snuck by them while they were out of their ship and she got through. Until she reached the helm that was and was caught by the leader. Despite her speedy attacks, he beat her single handedly. Defeated and caught red handed, she expected to be sent to jail. Perhaps executed for her crimes even but the leader known as Baku just laughed. As if amused by her attempt to take his ship.

He seemed to see potential in her and offer her to join his crew. She agreed and became a member of a apparently a undercover group of thieves. Most of the time though, they wouldn't allow her to do heavy battle. She was tough, but she was a bit more delicate than she acted. Baku's training sessions proved this. Still, didn't stop her from trying her best when she was needed. Plus she enjoyed learning more about airships and having comrades. She got her own dream for a change, in which she is thankful to Baku for. She wants to be a Captain of her own ship. And fly free in the skies. Just needed to save a lot of money and build it from scratch. Could take awhile, or be near impossible, but it was a dream. More than she ever had.

Extra Notes:
* She really likes milk. Both for the taste and the fact she silently hopes it will help her grow a little.
* Although she isn't anywhere near as ill as her mother was, she has to take medicine every morning and evening.(Which is usually a certain dose mixture of Remedy, Potion and Phoenix Down) in which she usually sprinkles the dose in with her food or drink.
* Her tail and ears are sensitive and usually avoids them getting touched.
* Her memory of her living relatives are hazy due to being a young age when they left. She just remembers that they fully looked like anthropomorphic felines.
* She can get mildly drunk off of catnip.
* In her spare time, she enjoys singing, though it's a rare sight for anyone else to hear her.

[User]
"Oh be easy on the Child Cassius, he's barely more than a Kitten. Look at him, he means you no harm. Child please do tell Cassius dear what you have to say....Cassius do you know this one?" Hitori asked as they flickered their tails back and forth.

"Honestly Hitori you have such a weird thought process, it's a wonder the Humans haven't tried to Kill you sooner. With that sort of reaction do you honestly think Cassius would know this Child?" a Sultry Feminine Voice came from the Opal that Hitori wore as a choker around his neck.

"Well excuse me for inquiring my dear Horror, I was merely trying to get the facts straight." Hitori said matter-of-factly.

"Like the Facts ever mean anything to you, you probably would just listen to a portion of them and go off on a wild tangent about how something entirely unrelated was happening and we would be reliving the Burmecia incident all over again." The Voice said.

"How many times must I apologize to you for that you Watery Tart!" Hitori snapped at the voice.

"Until I decide to let it go." The Voice concluded.

Hitori just pouted.

[Assistant]
Itzal only smiled, "No sir, we do not know each other." He told Hitori. "We may be of the same species, but that does not make us acquaintances." He lowered both his thin arms to his side, his tail flicking slightly as he regarded Cassius and Hitori. It seemed that Cassius was not who he imagined him to be. Not that it mattered, it would be foolish of him to think that he would be welcomed with open arms. Perhaps it was just something he had hoped after meeting another one of his species in such a long time.

"And... You are correct, sir." He told Cassius. "It is not of your death that I came to speak of. It is... Something much more than that." He eyed Anubis warily. "And I would hope that you could at least trust my vision, if only that."

[User]
Cassius shook his head dismissively. "Just get to the vision you had. I wish to be out of here as soon as possible, for I cannot stay long." Cassius would otherwise be patient if he did not have a schedule to keep. "You're asking me to put faith into something I cannot see forensically nor analyze... I'm not fully a man of science. But your 'visions' are not my own, nor do I trust my lucid dreams we call 'visions'..." Cassius somewhat moved to the back, looking for another door, though he was in the same room. It would be easy to leave with the chiefs out of the establishment.

Anubis simply cocked a brow at Itzel. "My Master is... Skeptical of his own race... He means well. But... Today is not a day he is most patient... You'd do wise to be clear with your vision rather than repeat the fact you had one... without further ado... The vision dear child." Anubis folded his arms.

[Assistant]
Itzal nodded, "Of course, sir. My vision told me that I would meet another Lumyian and a Kumiho at this establishment... That there is a far greater purpose for me than I had ever imagined... That I am to go on a journey with the both of you." He smiled slightly at them. "If that is all right with the both of you of course." He bowed deeply. "I am at both of your services... For that is what my vision stated for me."

He lifted himself up from the bow and frowned slightly, "Forgive me, sir... I suppose I am just surprised by your distrust in visions... If I may ask why that is...?" His ears lowered. "Ah, no... I suppose that is not my place... Forgive me for speaking out of line, sir..."


[System]
Ghoul Mask:
Nicknames: World Eater

Age: 22

Gender: Male

Rank: S

Kagune: Bakura's Kagune generally takes the shape of 8 harpoon like appendages, with serrated blades that form half way until the end, that come out around the lower area of his back. The color of the appendges is a hue of orange to red with a mixture of purple as well. Bakura is also capable of fusing the appendages to form different shapes, such as claws and etc. Bakura's unique skill with his Kagune is the ability to fuse to fuse a pair of the appendges into 4, thicker appendages that now form heads with only a pair of razor sharp teeth. These heads each usually have a mind of their own when his Kakugan is not activated but move to his whim when it is. He is also capable of feeding through these heads, rather than having to take off his mask.

RC Type: Rinkaku

Personality: Bakura generally comes off a cold and emotionless person, usually shown with his nearly dead eyes and cold attitude. Bakura usually puts up a gentle front with people who he doesn't hate, but yet he still keeps the dead, cold eyes even with the kind attitude. His views on life are rather bleak and he believes only through strength could you change anything.

Biography: Bakura was born and mostly raised in the 6th Ward, being taught how to hunt and fight by his intimidating mother and how to blend in from his gentle father. However, he much preferred spending time with his mother rather than his father. He respected her more than his own father as a child. Eventually, his parents were hunted down by Doves, but he shedded no tears. The time spent with his mother toughened him in order to deal with death. She engraved the saying into his brain "Hunters are never immune to being hunted"

As time passed, Bakura grew stronger and eventually became the leader of the 6th Ward as the Doves were preoccupied. He gained the nickname Stinger due to his stinger looking Kagune. But his reign was cut short when a Special Investigator and his associate attacked him in broad daylight and dealt major damage. They believed he had died, however he miraculously managed to survive thanks to the help of Meat, Meat, MEAT! From then on, he began to work at the store during day while working his own schedule during the night under a new alias, World Eater, due to his new ability.

[User]
CCG Headquarters, Eighth Ward

Yuuka sat on top of a cafeteria table with her legs crossed, in as much as you could call what she was doing with her freakish raptor legs "crossing them". She absentmindedly spun an empty cup of pudding around her black metal finger, not thinking of much in particular. At the edge of her hearing she could pick up some people talking about her, throwing around the usual accusations. "Freak", "pervert", "race traitor". It was nothing she hadn't heard before, so she chose to ignore it.

Come to think of it, she thought as she spun the empty pudding cup around and around, wasn't she supposed to meet her new partner today? She'd been assigned one of the newbies after Koizumi-kun decided he didn't feel safe working with her anymore. Which she didn't get. How many Ghouls had she killed? Dozens? Hundreds maybe at this point? She was the safest person to be with in the middle of a Ghoul attack!

She spun the cup with calculated force, and it landed perfectly in the trashcan ten feet away. She picked up her plastic-wrapped sandwich. In any case, this marked the fifth partner she'd lost. The rest had all either quit or asked to be reassigned. That part she understood perfectly. She wasn't exactly the most popular person in the CCG.

Yuuka felt something wet hit the back of her head. Someone had thrown a cup of instant noodles at her. She picked some of the wet, floppy noodles out of her hair and then looked around for the perpetrator. Two CCG agents stood around snickering near the exit. She smiled, and waved at them.

"Thanks for the noodles, guys! I was thinking I could use a hot dish to go with this sandwich!"

The two panicked and ran. Were they honestly that surprised they'd been spotted when they'd done such a poor job of concealing their malicious intent? In any case, she didn't hold it against them. As long as she could kill Ghouls, she was fine.

She took a sip from her cup of coffee house coffee, noodles still dangling out of her hair. Still, she hoped she would get along with her new partner this time. It might be nice having her own little newbie to mentor, to mold in her own image. Who knows, could be fun.

[Assistant]
Ishin made a beeline for his usual way away from the Dining Hall. The open streets had vagrants and homeless milling about slowly. The Dining Hall was not set up in a very…family friendly…neighbourhood. Still…with people like Ishin walking around not many places were family friendly these days. Like his club. Which also doubled as his house. And a hunting ground. He smiled a little and hefted the black duffel bag up higher on his shoulder as he walked through the neighbourhood. The dim glow of the street lights gave him a direct path. Not that he needed those lights. He breathed in through his nose deeply. He was slightly hungry and the scent of human flesh filled his nostrils with a sweet aroma. He sighed gently, his body shuddering gently as he focused on going home more than feasting. Another shudder and his skin on his shoulder blades rippled. Black began to creep over his eyes. He bit his tongue. Coppery taste rushed over his palate and he was normal again. He sighed gently and continued.

Pushing his way through the crowd, making himself known to the staff, Ishin found himself at Dark Nights. The pumping rhythm gave him shudders of another kind as he watched numerous women, ghouls and humans, grinding along to the music. He may have to join them later. He made his way up to his office and found Chou waiting at his door.

"ahhh…Totsuka-chan" He smiled and looked at her clothes, spattered in dry blood "new clothes and a new place to stay I assume?" he said quickly before opening the door to his office and walking in. He dumped the duffel bag down, his mask quickly pulled from the bag and placed on his desk. Dropping down in to the comfortable leather he looked around the office. It was all modern designed, glass desk…leather couch and everything a nice onyx colour. He gestured to the couch "sit down, tell me what's up" he rubbed the back of his neck gently.


[System]
*Universe: Ranma 1/2

*Appearance: "I'm the best."

*Personality: Under normal circumstances, Ranma is fairly carefree and generally friendly to those around him. However, he also lacks experience in social situations and frequently speaks and acts without considering the consequences, or the feelings of others- leading to severe bluntness and the patented "foot in the mouth disease". He has no small amount of pride in his skills and will easily get angered by those who call him out on it or "annoying" people.

*Powers/Skills: Ranma is a master of several martial arts schools of Japanese and Chinese origin, his specialty being midair combat via the Saotome Branch of the Indiscriminate Grappling School. He is also considered superhuman as he can punch and kick several hundred times in only a few seconds, survive blows that would outright cripple or kill normal people, jump fifty feet into the air, and lob around heavy objects such as boulders and concrete rollers with abandon. Ranma also has an extremely fast learning curve, able to dissect and come up with counters to techniques after seeing them only a few times as well as liberally use clever on the fly tactics to outsmart opponents with a superior quality and a master of using any ordinary object as aides in combat such as but not limited to chopsticks, pencils, basketball hoops, his own hair, boulders, trees, pantyhose, ceremonial tea sets, forks and knives, kettles, and scarves. As of this point in the timeline, he can shoot balls/beams of ki that depends on emotions as well as several variants of a twister.

*Brief Bio: Ranma Saotome was raised to be a man amongst men by his father, a rather amoral thief and coward. After enduring a dozen years of outright insane training, he now resides in the house of his father's friend, Soun Tendo and engaged to his youngest daughter, Akane Tendo. After surviving a lifetime's worth full of jealous rivals, pushy fiancees, manipulative schemers, and magical princes/various supernatural entities of the week, Ranma was whisked to the City.

*Equipment: Anything and everything he can get his hands on.
*Others: He has a phobia towards cats that can result in a berserker state where he has the ability to shred stuff via a cat like motions, ranging anywhere from concrete to wood to even water into shavings. Also changes gender depending on the temperature of water with anything warm/hot for male and cool/cold for female.

[User]
Fawful - Yellow Flag

Fawful spent some time mulling over the Russian woman's words. An extradimensional being taking people from different universes for their own amusement made perfect sense. He'd heard rumors of such things happening before, and truth be told, it's not far off from what he'd do with that kind of power... which raised an interesting point. Killing the viewer was a worthy goal, yes, but odds were about fifty-fifty that it'd actually send people back home, and there was another possibility that was so much more satisfying. Not for the first time, Fawful wondered how such large people could have such tiny ideas.

He'd be back later to look at her collected tech, and told her so before making his exit. There were other things he had to deal with first. He changed his cape into a grey hooded cloak to draw less attention to himself as he walked down the dangerous streets of Roanpur. It was fury-inducing to have to start from the bottom again when conquest was well within his grasp, but it was soothed by the thought of the potential prize involved, like the milk of power undoing the spiciness of the chili of inconvenience. First though, he needed a base, somewhere secure where he could work without possibility of interruption or discovery - and he had a hunch on where something like that might be found. Next he needed some minions, at the least some dumb muscle to do the heavy lifting. Third...

"Eehyeehee!"

Fawful giggled to himself as he plotted and schemed, slipping easily into the shadows of Roanpur.

---

Wreck-Gar - Mahora
"Wait, donkeys are monkeys?" said Wreck-Gar, mildly confused by DK's introduction.

"I am Wreck-Gar the Autobot! I am a mecha from some Sentai team I haven't heard about? ...er, what's a sentai?" He was about to ask Nobuo more when something caught his eye.

Decepticons usually flew. Decepticons had a purple emblem. But - and this was the important part - not everything that flew and was purple is a decepticon. After that one kid's birthday party, he'd learned to ask first.
All Twilight Sparkle would know is that the big orange robot stared at her for a minute before suddenly asking, "Hello, flying purple thing; are you a Decepticon?"

[Assistant] "W-w-what's a Sentaaaaai!?" Nobuo screamed out. He marched forward, ignoring the equine from the image boards. He went on a very lengthy rant about just what Sentai is, namely a team of color coded heroes who fight evil and pilot robots in a fast enough pace that'd rival Mankanshoku Mako. However, at the end of the day, it was just a long-winded rant that can otherwise be background noise in the city of Mahora.


[System]
Runan Isles Savior Corps

---

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

Character Info

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

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

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

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

Character Info

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

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

She had no idea.

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

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

Character Info

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

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

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

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

Character Info

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

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

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

Character Info

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

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

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

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

[User]
The long period of silence shook Quinn.

His smile had gone. He'd stopped talking. He'd shut the door. She was getting really nervous now. Nervous that she'd done something wrong. That she'd given him the wrong answer. Her heart began to race as he walked over to her and sat down just next to her. Her eye was wide and scared.

And then he'd started to speak.

She'd never really heard much about Westwel. Besca had talked about it a little every now and then, but it was obvious that she didn't ever really want to. That it hurt her to talk about it. And the last thing Quinn wanted to do was make Besca upset.

It was awful. Horrible. So terrible she almost forgot to breathe. Nineteen million people. It was no wonder Doctor Follen had taken some time to work up to it. It no doubt hurt him just as much as it did Besca; he was just better at covering it up, wasn't he?

But it was fitting he'd mentioned a lightning bolt. Because the final question he'd asked..."The Modir attacked you. Why do you believe that is your fault, and not theirs?"...it hit her like that selfsame bolt.

"Because I—"

She paused. Thinking over the question. Why? Why? Why did she believe it was her fault? Well, because...because...because it just was. Her face was drawn and pale by the time she spoke again. "...They...they were only there for me. If I hadn't..." She trailed off again, voice miserable. Why? Why? Why?

"If I..."

She dropped her head into her hands, muffling her voice. "I don't know," she finally said, almost as though it had been dragged out of her. "I don't know why it's my fault. It just..." She grappled desperately against herself and the guilt that infested her, trying to force herself to understand what Doctor Follen was talking about, what revelation he'd found after the fall of Westwel.

And, evidently, not succeeding very well at it.

"...It just..."

But still, she was...shaken. Why hadn't she blamed the Modir? She didn't understand. Shouldn't they have been the first on the chopping block?

But they weren't. Ablaze wasn't. The swordsman wasn't. Because she knew deep down—deadly certain, as sure as she'd ever been about anything, that the one to blame was her. Maybe the Modir had done the damage, it was true. That, at least, wasn't her doing. But if she hadn't been there, they wouldn't have either. And Modir that weren't there didn't destroy a town and kill all of its inhabitants.

She took her hands from her face, but refused to meet Doctor Follen's eyes in favor of staring shamefaced at the ground, wishing she had a better answer.

"...It just...is."

[Assistant]
Follen waited patiently as Quinn foraged her mind for an answer, and showed no signs of surprise when she returned without bounty. She blamed herself, still, and perhaps it was easy to see why. How else was the sole survivor of a tragedy meant to see themselves? How could they be anything less than a lure for destruction?

But Follen still didn't concede. His face betrayed no trace of anger, or disappointment—in fact it was still quite difficult to see any emotion in him, even in his eyes. But there was, perhaps, a comfort there. There was nothing to take hold of in his eyes, no warmth or safety to find, but also no threat, no storm or chill to weather that would necessitate it. He was void. Dark, empty, and very gentle.

"Things being the way they are, 'just because', is the logic of storms and monsters," he said. He got up from his seat and crouched down beside her, low so that he could look up at her downturned eyes. "There is more to your life than the things done to destroy it. To them, there is not. To define yourself by what has happened to you is cruel and unfair. Quinnlash—"

He reached out and placed a hand over hers. His skin was so temperate, even in the warmth of the room, that it felt like little more than a breeze.

"We are not monsters, and we are not guilty. Decide for yourself what you are. Be what you do."

[User]
Quinn was quiet for a long time as she looked into Doctor Follen's gentle eyes. Her own eye betrayed the storm inside her, mind churning and grinding like a broken machine, filling up with sparks and smoke.

Things being the way they are, 'just because', is the logic of storms and monsters.

To define yourself by what has happened to you is cruel and unfair.

She opened her mouth, trying to find something to say. She couldn't; the smoke was just too thick. She closed it again. She knew he was wrong. She knew he was wrong so deep in her gut. But she just...couldn't find a way to explain or justify it. A distant and buried region of her mind clogged with smoke and sparks knew that meant something, but the rest of her overwhelmed it, crushing that part of her beneath an avalanche of renewed guilt.

We are not monsters, and we are not guilty. Decide for yourself what you are. Be what you do.

The smoke cleared, just a little. The sparks spat out the smallest bit less furiously, and that distant, muffled piece of her whispered into her ear as though from a great distance: be what you do.

And then again, still just that frail whisper, but persistent, insistent. Drag light into the future, no matter how dark. Set the night ablaze.

She took in a slow, shuddering breath, completely oblivious to the fact that tears were starting to creep down her cheek as her brain collided with itself. She knew she was at fault. That feeling of being at fault—that knowledge that she was at fault—crashed into that idea that what had been done to her and to Hovvi didn't reflect on her, but on the Modir that were hunting her. It seemed so easy. If she thought of it logically, she knew it was true. But still, that guilt bit into her ankles and dragged her down into the muck.

She suddenly realized she was crying almost dazedly—when had that started?—and as she sat up straight, or at least straighter, she swiped an arm across her eye. The crushing despair loosened. But...it still hung over her. Not as lethally, but more than enough to keep the weight pressing down. Like a wire around her neck that was still choking her, even if she could breathe now.

"I'm being stupid, aren't I," she mumbled through the lump in her throat. "I'm sorry...I'll—I'll try harder."

[Assistant]
He stayed there, crouched, for a long time while she worked through her thoughts. In the end it seemed the guilt had not left her, not entirely. But her composure was returning bit by bit, and that was, by any stretch, a marked improvement.

"No, darling, no. You aren't stupid at all, and you need not apologize to me, nor try any harder, for anyone's sake but your own. The Board may see these evaluations as tests of your worth, but I do not—and I don't report them as such. We are here for you, and no one else."

Letting go of her hand, he stood back up and made his way back to the other side of his desk. "Why don't we call that it for the day, hm? What you've said, and what I hope you've heard, is more than enough. You did very well—even if you won't admit that to yourself. I'm proud of you."

As if to make his point, he flipped the notebook shut, and smiled at her. Suddenly, all of the warmth returned to him. "Is there anything else on your mind? Anything more I can help you with? Please, never hesitate to ask."


[System]
Nickname:
Race: Canid anthropomorph
Age: 160
Gender: Male

Appearance:

Proportionality:
Weight: 440lbs
Height: 7.5ft
Frame: Ferrer is tall and somewhere between thin and muscled, his body is incredibly matter-dense, so it's very solid, and very heavy. The right-hand side of him is severely burned, leaving his skin exposed due to scarification, his entire right arm up to the shoulder is missing, replaced with a prosthetic powered by a combination of kinetic energy derived from the movement in the rest of his body and some ambient magic energy. His right eye is also artificial, however in this case it is entirely magical, the eyeball itself has no substance and Ferrer uses the space to hide a very small emergency bomb, which can be fired when he winks with his left eye. He dresses in simple, functional clothes of earthen tones, all treated to resist extreme heat. His outermost garment is a huge greatcoat, which conceals most of him, along with a stetson.
_______________________

Personality: Ferrer's demeanour is generally calm, however when provoked, he can fly into terrible rages from which it can be impossible to remove him until it burns out of its own accord. He has an extreme dislike of cajolery, and prefers a clear conversation to insinuations.

Job: Ferrer is an artisan, he creates devices of varying types and sells them wherever he is able to. He also does research into the nature of the world around him.

Fighting Style: Ferrer fights heavily using weapons that create an area of effect, such as explosives, gases, concussive weapons and heavy armaments like hammers.

Weapons from strongest to weakest: Hellfire Bomb - part technology, part magic, this bomb creates a massive blast that burns anything within its radius with flames that do not go out. Ferrer is immune to this.
Sisyphus' Hammer - tied to Ferrer's berserker rage, the longer he wields this hammer, the heavier it gets.
Pepperpot - this small hand cannon fires heavy, regular explosives. The magazines are larger on the inside.
Red Right Hand - Ferrer's right arm is capable of expelling gases of various kinds, including a flammable gas, which can be ignited to create a burning blade.

Gadgets: Clips for Pepperpot that can be used as remote mines, with a receiver for same. Small set of vibrating knives.

Armors/Outfits See above in general description.

Weight Class: Heavy

Awakening: Sphere of Needles - when Ferrer is able to activate this ability, anything that comes within a span of 26 feet of him experiences pain, which increases in intensity the closer they get to Ferrer.

Pros- Ferrer is analytical and swift thinking in battle, and is not above injuring himself for the sake of winning. He is also very open with people once he trusts them.

Cons- Ferrer's trust is hard earned, and once lost is even harder to regain, if it ever can be. His berserk rages will sometimes overpower all his reasoning.

Racial Strengths- Ferrer is abnormally resistant to damage, thanks to the density of his body and the power that flows through it, though he is mostly unable to tap the latter.

Racial Weaknesses- Blows to the forehead are particularly uncomfortable for Ferrer, and while he usually wears headgear to mitigate the worst of it, a blow to even this is enough to stun him for several seconds.

Background: Ferrer is a 'close mark' of Ferrer Seraph, one generated by the resonance of the world he finds himself in when his progenitor passed close by, metaphysically speaking. Since arriving, he has lived largely as a recluse, travelling as much as his body will allow him. In that time, he acquired the damage to his body, after the experimental prototype of the Hellfire Bomb failed. He found himself awakening to the care of Cassius and Monica, his body made mostly whole again by Monica's hard work.
His work on the island encompassed many buildings, including a workshop and forge for himself, and a place to sort salvage washed up onto the island.

[User]
Ferrer entered the examination room quietly, his face very guarded. He looked over the now awakened individuals, and heaved a sigh, his expression relaxing somewhat. He burped into his hand, having wolfed down the steak Cas had given him.

'Excuse me.' He spoke softly, not wanting to interrupt the conversation now taking place. He looked over the newcomers once more, taking note of their body language, their reactions to his entrance, and the ambient energies around each. He understood many of the emotions going through them, having experienced a lot of his own emotional turmoil throughout his lifetime on this planet, and more specifically this island.

His roving eye fell particularly hard on the pair of women who were somewhat entangled. Their energies had touched before, Ferrer could have seen the bond if they were sitting on opposite sides of the room. He chuckled softly. Their being together would hopefully help with their settling in. If, on the other hand they made trouble together...Ferrer looked a little deeper. After a moment, he concluded that he should be able to handle it. He took a seat, still mostly silent.

[Assistant]
"Correction there buddy." Naisha stated at Cassius shaking her head in disagreement." What you describe is known in my world as a normal demon. I'm not a normal demon... this is my body and each sees me like this." She stated, pointing a finger at her horns and her tail." I did what i had to to turn it into demonic one, I can hide it with spells, but I don't want to." She finished her explanation.

 "So basically we all got dragged here from our points of death, by this Clysmian enitity to do who knows what?" She summerized the whole explanation and sighed with a smile, wrapping her arms around Alex's neck once more, bringing herself more into Alex's lap, sitting comfortably in it." Of course you won't find a logical explanation for it... whenever a deity grade entity is involved, things don't make sense. Those... presences or however you would call them operate on their own logic... If this Clsmian wants the sky to turn green it may just..."

 "Why would I want to leave this world and return to a place that's already fated to meet the end times in about two to three years?" Naisha asked eventually with very evil smile on her face." That world will face end times, I have no need to return there. I already killed everyone who caused harm to MY Alex..." Naisha said softly, running a few fingers across the red head's cheek." The end times will deal with those who simply turned their backs at the injustices." She added with a smile." As long as Alex is here, this is where I need and want to be!"

 "Ahh yes... I guess non mages can never fully understand the joy... the pleasure... the thrill of having so much raw power surge through your body, the world obeying your desires. It's like having the power to rul over creation itself." Naisha explained, lickign her lips." But nothing beats the sensation of slowly turning someone's body into charchoal and then to dust. To sense their heart stop, to taste their fear~ you know people who have complexes of being indestructable make for hte best meals~"

 "On the topic of meals... I need raw heart... even animal would do..." Naisha suddenly stated." Actually from now on just whenever meat is involved don't cook it for me. I need it raw and bloody... if the hearts are there even better."

[User]
Monica blinked at Naisha's description. "Like... a Controlled Scientific experiment? Like Alchemy...?" She somewhat pictured Naisha brewing magic at a bench with beakers and chuckled a bit... and then she really thought about it... She just wasn't capable like anyone around her. "Magic sounds a bit dangerous... Which seems why so few are actually capable..." She mused as she set a finger over her lips. "I remember my mother spoke of a women she encountered called 'The Baroness'... There are many stories about her... Buuuut... Every Story has some form on influence in many cultures... On my home world, we simply call her 'Daskra'... It means 'The Beyonder'." She chuckled before setting her cup down, looking at Ferrer and giving a light pet on his head, even if shakily.

"As for your... Demonic being..." Monica scrunched her eyes somewhat, trying to roll "Demonic Being" with ease on her tongue. "I have not the slightest clue... But it sounds like a difference of fundamentals... Like how gravity differs planet to pancake."

"Like how your cooking Differs compared to mine?" Roy smirked.
"Shut up Roy..." Monica glared somewhat. She looked back to the mighty Seraph.

"I also... Know very little about Seraphs such as him... But I just know you're all in very safe company... albeit a bit..." She frowned internally, she pictured Cassius wedged between Ferrer and Roy on what looked like a Pallet, meanwhile her being all alone. Of course this was only when Cassius was younger... "Clingy I want to say...?" Monica chuckled. "Cassius is..." She did not want to seem offensive twords anyone, but... he was out of the room. "He is a bit... Eccentric..." She felt her eyes shift to Maria, then Ferrer, she mentally crawled under her desk as if it were a Fallout shelter.

"By that I mean... He is a REALLY intelligent person, incredibly so... But he is very... stand off like... And so he basically has two glorified... Bodyguards..." She chuckled, almost saying "Pets."

"I thought you were about to call us his boyfriends." Roy joked, somewhat nudging Ferrer... He could just feel Maria glaring through her sunhat, daggers for eyes, and seven times as sharp as diamond.

"Might as well be..." Monica giggled.

"I mean, you were thinking it. Or something like that... Maybe?" Roy smirked as he tilted his head.
"Shouldn't you keep an eye on your boyfriend?" Monica said jokingly.
"He isn't my-"
Monica shoved what was basically a cookie into his mouth... She made sure Roy had the Chocolate, and spared Ferrer it... Last thing she needed to do was prepare anti-diarrhea based medicine.

"Oooh... I forgot to introduce him... This is Ferrer, and Roy. The Stuffed Animal is Roy... This Muscular one... Is Ferrer... So it is hard to mix them up... and I am Monica... A Doctor, and a farmer. But... I will keep in mind you want your food uncooked..." She shuttered. "So... You address Alex like... What is... Are you two..."

Roy coughed. "Lesbiannnns~" Cough.

"Roy." Monica scolded before looking over the red headed women with the cynbernetic arm. "You two are not forgotten about by the way... Just... You're all reaaallly quiet..."

Cassius swayed back in somewhat. He noticed the Felinoid. "There you are. Come to take in the sight? Welcome to Luyay."

[Assistant]
Itzal jumped slightly, realizing he had been noticed.

"Is... This some sort of planet?" He managed to ask, his crimson eyes taking in the grand sunset. "It's... Beautiful regardless..." He muttered, his tail swishing as a sign that he was relaxed. However, he wondered if he should be so relaxed, he still had no regard to where he was, despite how gorgeous and serene it was, and if he was in danger. Not that he could sense any threatening magic around, he heaved a sigh. It couldn't be the afterlife, if it was... His brother would be here as well. He glanced over to Cassius. "What sort of plane is this?" He wondered, more than actually asking straight out. "Are..." He found that he couldn't actually say the phrase "Are we dead?" He felt like a coward for not being able to ask a simple question, even if he didn't want to know the exact answer.

Itzal shook his head, "I suppose I already know the answer though..." He whispered, his ears lowering slightly as he chuckled bitterly.

[User]
Maria just Chuckled in bemusement at the New Comers Reactions, taking note of what Itzal just said. "In a Sense I suppose you are in another time and place but you aren't so the Answer is a Resounding....Maybe but not quite. Are you familiar with the Concept of There being Multiple Universes out there that could potentially hold alternate versions of your respective worlds where things might have gone a bit...differently so to speak. I remember Bene Mother Alva told me a Story about how in her youth two Drifters appeared, Both Claiming to be the Same Person but Both had Vastly Different Histories and Worlds that were Similar up to a point before divergent qualities could be observed in their stories. My Point being is that we honestly can't give you a concise answer since you are perfectly alive on our world and yes. This World is a Planet, we may not be able to reach the Stars but we still have Astronomy." She said as she sipped her tea.

Helena took it all in as she finished her steak, "What's a Bene Mother?" she asked, taking a sip of her tea.

"Oh that's a simple one, a Bene Mother is the Eldest and Usually Most Powerful Witchbreed in a Coven. Bene Mother Alva was the One who taught me to Hone my Craft and acted as a Mentor to me growing up, She's now Free though wandering the Spirit Wilds." Maria says with a Wistful Tone. "However that's not Important." Maria says as she Dismisses the Thought.

[Assistant]
'The most important fact of the situation is that you are here now,' Ferrer spoke up, his tail swishing to and fro as he pondered his next sentence. 'Whatever it is that you plan to do here, whether you call it a second chance, an afterlife, reincarnation, it makes little matter; I try to keep things peaceful here. I do not like fighting, I do not like the person I am when I fight. I would like, if possible, to get along with you all.'

He turned to Roy. 'It remains a mystery to me how Roy and I get along sometimes, but we manage well enough.' He grinned, revealing an almost unsettlingly large amount of teeth.


[System]
Age: 20

Gender: Female

Appearance: A small-framed young woman of Scottish descent, Rachel is unassuming, relatively short and mediocre in terms of beauty. She has long and wavy brown hair and eyes of pretty much the exact same color. There are little to no distinguishable marks on her body. No tattoos, scars or freckles, for example. Rachel dresses casually most of the time, never having to wear anything fancy in her experience. Simple shirts and sweaters coupled with a pair of secondhand leggings are her go-to outfit. It is worth mentioning that most of her clothes are stolen from thrift shops.

Backstory: Rachel was born in Wichita, Kansas and it was her birthplace that earned her the middle name that she's so ashamed of these days. Her parents were middle-class average Joe's and the family got by rather comfortably without much luxuries. Tragedy struck when she reached the age of 16, however. Upon driving home from having dinner at Rachel's favorite restaurant, they were suddenly blinded by a great flash of light, causing them to lose control of the car and crash headlong into a truck coming the other way. Rachel was fortunate enough to survive the crash with minimal injuries. Her parents had not. Now orphaned and with a lack of immediate relatives, she was left in the care of a local orphanage.

Her time in the orphanage was, for lack of a better word, lonely. Rachel found few friends in her fellow orphans; on the contrary, she was practically an outcast, being called 'creepy', a 'freak' and 'possessed by a demon'. Wait, what? A demon? Yes, during these arduous times, Rachel had materialized a Stand, but her teenage mind didn't know the concept of a Stand, let alone her non-Stand user peers. Fearing that this demon of hers would bring her and others more calamity, she ran away from the orphanage after stealing $500 from the supervisors.

The world wasn't kind to poor old Rachel. She had to get by living in abandoned spaces and doing oddjobs, becoming a wandering hermit. But as a plus side, she was given plenty of time to get used to her demon. An encounter with someone possessing the same powers helped in that. She learned that what she had was called a Stand and it was pretty much her soul given form. Life didn't really change for Rachel upon the revelation. She now had self-defense, but that was about it. A few more years she spent hopping from town to town until one day, she happened into Angel Springs.

For some reason, she felt as if she was meant to be here.

Likes: Southern-style food, sunsets, peace and quiet, dogs, street art, tall dark handsome men

Dislikes: Her middle name, cigarette smoke, the police, being scared, being pressured

Powers: Wichita possesses a Stand, which manifested itself when she was 16 years old. However, she would only be aware that it was a Stand and actually started to master it 2 years later.

Stand Name: 「SHINEE」

Stand Appearance: SHINee is a lean, androgynous, humanoid Stand, resembling a fighter plane pilot. Its body is mainly chrome-blue with black racing streaks across its arms. This Stand tends to stick close to Rachel, protecting her with its abilities.

Stand Type: Long-Distance

Destructive Power: C

Speed: A

Range: B

Durability: D

Precision: B

Development Potential: C

In-Depth Abilities: SHINee's powers are based upon light. It can produce blinding flashes of light in short pulses with 1 second intervals OR a constant emittance for up to 10 seconds, produce minute beams capable of mildly scarring flesh (but still fatal to the eyes) and even travel to a position at at an unknown speed at least leagues more than the speed of sound. While traveling at 'probably light speed' (referred by Rachel as PLS), it is also able to take Rachel with it to blink short distances or cover huge distances in a matter of seconds. This possibly making her the fastest woman in the universe. However, even if she can move at these speeds, she lacks the reflexes and focus for it; constant high-speed dashing makes her incredibly nauseous. SHINee is semi-autonomous. It can act outside its user's will to preserve their shared existence, but even it can only do so much. In terms of physical strength, SHINee's isn't one to write home about, nothing dramatically different from the average human's punching power and is pathetically frail (just like its owner). But how would you like a hundred punches coming at you at the speed of sound?

[User]
Reinhardt was watching what was going on with amazement in his face on what he was seeing,"A stand user...i thought..their would not be others like me in this place..." The finely dressed man said watching the other man searching for a woman whom he believed he had saw before this fight.

When he was asking someone where the woman was the older man was frozen for the time being,He wondered something if this stand user was looking for this woman who might be another stand user and he was going to kill her.Of course if this was the case then he would have to stop him.

Or perhaps he was over thinking things and should just stay out of their way and not get involved.

[Assistant]
Rodger hadn't even gotten his menu yet when the woman walked in. His eyes followed her as she crossed the room. Well, not her. Her friend.

That was too bad, he thought. He'd been hoping for a nice lunch but that just wasn't going to happen now. Walking around with your Stand out was like walking down the street with a gun in your hand; you didn't do it unless you had cause to use it. Whenever a Stand showed up, mischief always followed. It was the law of the universe, one he'd learned quickly.

It didn't take long for the peace, as well as the window, to be shattered. Rodger ducked his head low along with most of the patrons as the restaurant erupted in screams, keeping focused on the open window to try and get a good idea of what was happening. He didn't see much. It was all over almost as soon as he started watching. Curiously, and to escape the cacophony inside the restaurant, he drew himself up and crunched across the busted glass scattered on the floor. Looming out of the window into the fresh air he saw dead men littering the street and the one who was responsible tending to his wounded comrade. He reached into his back back pocket for a packet of seeds, thumbing one into his palm. The dead men he couldn't do anything for, but maybe...

There was no need though. It a moment the young man was mended back together, good as new. Rodger sighed with relief, placing the seed on the windowsill as the Kaiser Chief stood. The Kaisers were okay in his book. They'd done his neighborhood more than a few good turns, kept peace in this city in their own way. He held them in the highest esteem. Their reputation was such that if they had killed these men outside there must have been a good reason for it, though the cops probably wouldn't be nearly as understanding.