[System]
Rank (If applicable): Commander

Species: Sangheili

Appearance (for his armor, at least):
Height: 7'10"

Skills:Vael bears the title of a blademaster, and with good reason. He also has general combat experience befitting his many years of experience, and has a long history of leadership.

Preferred Weapons/Equipment:
* Type-1 energy sword
* Type-25 plasma rifle
* Type-57 carbine
* Active Camouflage

Background: Vael 'Virisusai is an old and experienced warrior, having already held the rank of major at the start of the Human-Covenant war. For him, the war had been an opportunity both to strive for the honor and glory of victory, and to serve the will of the gods. Early in his career, there was nothing that had set him apart from other ambitious Sangheili warriors. He did not have any particularly exceptional skills, nor an enlightened strategic mind. What he did have was the ability to survive, and to learn every lesson he could take in from every battle and skirmish.

Over the course of the war, every facet of Vael's skill as a warrior was honed to a fine edge. From simple aim, to his ability to keep a calm mind in the chaos of battle, Vael became a more and more deadly presence on any battlefield. Victories, and especially defeats, shaped his judgment and leadership ability just as much as his personal combat skills. Like many of his kind, he preferred to kill in close quarters, especially with a blade. In both fighting against the Humans and countless hours of training and sparring among other Sangheili, he learned the intricacies of using a blade in a variety of contexts, and against different opponents. Given his people's respect for swordsmanship, it was this accomplishment, perhaps more than the others, that most helped him to ascend the ranks of the Covenant. In the end, it was not accident, nor fate, nor genetics bestowing natural talent that created the warrior Vael became. It was pure, earned experience.

In the closing years of the Human-Covenant war Vael had ascended all the way up to the rank of Zealot, and in the final months, he had remained on High Charity after accepting an even more honored position. He was present when High Charity arrived at Installation 05…and present when the San'Shyuum wholly betrayed the Sangheili. Being stationed on the Covenant Holy City, he was a part of some of the thickest of fighting against Jiralhanae-led Covenant forces, then later the Flood as it infected the city. Ultimately, he did escape the parasite and went on to join the Fleet of Retribution to cleanse Earth of the Flood. From there, he took part in the Battle of the Ark, which finally put an end to Truth's Covenant.

Following the end of the war, many Sangheili returned to their homes, to their clans. Many of those allied with one faction or another, but Vael did not do so immediately. His life had been one of honor and war, but most of all service to a faith he now knew to be a lie. Shortly after the Battle of the Ark, he secured a small ship and simply…left. He was not seen in Swords of Sanghelios space, nor that of the UNSC. With the exception of a single re-fueling run on Squala, it was as if he had vanished from civilized space.

Then, after a year's absence, Vael suddenly returned to Sanghelios itself. He pledged his service and loyalty to the Swords of Sanghelios. Given his history, he rose quickly through the ranks. However, those who knew him before the war would have saw some changes in him. He was more reserved, both in terms of speech, and in a more cautious, calculated style of leadership. Perhaps the most notieable change is that, while he still kills his enemies without hesitation, he no longer shows the same eagerness to take glory in battle. He no longer demonstrates his pride in his kills, nor intentionally seeks the most challenging of foes. Despite all of this, his effectiveness has not diminished. He continues to be an honored warrior among the Sangheili, but for those who knew him before, one cannot help but to wonder what else has changed within him. Despite this, he has been chosen for the Aegis Team as a Sangheili warrior with enough skill and experience to be comparable to a Spartan.

[User]
Vael 'Virisusai and Shih

---

Vael, on his part, agreed with Aviza's decision. While it was more exposed, nothing they had observed so far suggested that the phantom patrols would range that far from the structure. Moving closer would only worsen the risk of detection. As for actually reaching the mesa, it was not an entirely easy climb, but it was nothing the team could not handle. There was no path leading to the top, but there was a steep, but traversable, hill that led most of the way up. They would only need to climb the very last section up to the flat up of the mesa. For Vael, he tossed his sentinel beam up ahead of him so he could get a firm grip on the rocks for the final climb.

Vael did not need an order to follow Aviza's lead. He kept himself low to avoid silhouetting too much against the sky, laying prone to observe the structure in the distance. His HUD did allow him to zoom in on objects in the distance, though it could not compete with the many specialized sensors built into Aviza's armor. It was those that Shih was making the greatest use of to scan the area.

Even without such sensors, Vael could still see the activity around the structure, and it was, unfortunately, not encouraging. It was not just Jiralhanae occupying the structure, but he could see Humans as well. Far more of them than Jiralhanae, in fact. Most of the Brutes Vael could see seemed to be moving closed crates to and from the interior of the structure. This was the insurrectionist base, and the Jiralhanae they were dealing with were holding directly above it. Together, the two factions would present far more forces than Aegis team ever expected to face at once. The structure itself was a fairly large compound, with multiple buildings and other obstacles that would slow any approach to the central tower. He did not see any way for them to reach the center before Jiralhanae reinforcements could overwhelm them. Not alone, at least.

"The Jiralhanae are holding too close to the rebels. They will be able to assist them should we attack. I believe we will need reinforcements to deal with them. Perhaps then we can surround the central tower and prevent their leader's escape." Vael suggested.

Shih soon chimed in over the team's radios. "I'm afraid it might not be even that simple. Now that we're close enough, I'm getting better readings on the structure. I'm detecting evidence of an underground tunnel system beneath the central tower, leading away from the compound and into Sarcophagus' superstructure. I can only begin to guess at the purpose of the tunnels, but the point is that the rebels may have an underground escape route planned in the event of an attack. If we want to stop them here, we'll have to get into that tower quickly."

As she was giving her explanation, the AI highlighted the relevant sections of the compound on their respective HUDs, though she soon also highlighted the Brute cruisers above them. "Luckily, I don't think the Brute ships are going to give us much trouble. Based on everything I can get on sensors, their ships are in pretty poor shape. I'm not even picking up shields on anything but the corvette. I guess the Brutes haven't had access to proper maintenance these last few years. If we call in the battle group, they should mop the floor with them."

[Assistant]
Spartan Lucas Ryker

Having moved with the rest of the team to the plateau, Lucas scoped up on the structure, or structures, as it had turned out, and watched the movements of those below. The Jiralhanae were definitely patrolling the outer area of the crater-like area but the interior was being patrolled by the Insurrectionists, which provided the team a potent advantage. "Before we do that, myself and a couple other members of the team are outfitted with active camo. If Grikgar is outfitted with enough ordinance, and I brought some grenades that we can jerry rig some charges out of, we can sabotage some things before calling in the battle group, particularly things that Shih marks as important. And while the rest of the team pushes in at lightning speed to take advantage of the confusion, we can sneak in and find the URF leader."

Granted, they were still a fairly small team to split up in such a way, but if things played out right, then they could maybe even get the two groups to turn on each other. "Let's face it, these are greater numbers than we were expecting and we don't necessarily have the time to come up with too many more ideas. Plus, maybe the two groups will turn on each other when there are plasma charges destroying critical URF infrastructure at this base."

[User]
Ben-E218

Ben had followed the rest of the group to the plateau. He saw Grikgar following him, and turned to the Unggoy briefly when he heard the reason he was following so close.

"Shadow if you want, but be careful." He listened to Ryker's speech, then realized something rather embarrassing. He turned off the coms on his suit for a moment as he quickly conversed with his AI.

"Phong, does this suit come with active camo?"

"Yes, it most certainly does. Don't tell me you forgot about it."

"I haven't actually used it in- never mind. Can you create a shortcut command for it so that I can activate it on eye contact with the symbol in my HUD?"

"Processing request. Compiling program. Rendering icon. Done." No sooner than Phong had spoken did an active camouflage symbol appear on his helmet's screen:

"Thanks." Ben reactivated his coms, knowing that too long of a gap in communications might give cause for an inquiry. Unexplained outages in communication could serve as cover for and a sign of unauthorized contacts with rebels and enemies, after all. If there was no cause to hide one's discourse, why turn off the mic? Fortunately, Ben knew the cutoff point after which the UNSC would find such a thing to be suspicious; one minute and seventeen seconds exactly. Anything less could be seen as a hardware failure or a momentary software glitch.

"Sounds like a good plan. What type of infrastructure are we talking about?"

[Assistant]
Tar 'Mdalak
The Kel 'Darsam - off Paxopolis Broadwalk

---

Tar chuckled and patted her comrade affectionately on the back. "If the Humans gave you poison, would you eat that too?" She enjoyed the regular meetings and light hearted banter with Kryu more than she probably let on. It provided temporary solace for her, especially as her deployment to Sarcophagus stretched from weeks into months.

Kryu shrugged. "I am not convinced that was not their intention. It was sweet at first, but the aftertaste was horrid. I still feel that I can taste it. The last time they gave me something of theirs to eat, it was most acceptable. Pleasant, even. Perhaps they were attempting to earn my trust?" He said with a short grunt.

Their food came quickly - popular dishes were pre-prepared and kept hot for the breakfast rush which was due in 10 minutes or so. Tar devoured hers, foregoing utensils over holding the bowl up and grabbing food with her tongue and mandibles.
"So, I had an...interesting simulation...with some fresh recruits just now." Tar ventured in between mouthfuls. "Such an array of characters - three sessions in and they're still as diverse as the seasons. It seems ONI doesn't like making things easy for me! How was your training exercise yesterday?"

Kryu huffed, shaking his head slightly before pausing to take a drink. "All but one of my recruits have never so much as used a thruster pack before, but that is fine. The ones that have never flown do not know what they are doing, so they listen to me. It's the one with experience that gives me trouble. He has his own technique, and does not wish to stray from it. So, yesterday, he comes in too quickly for his landing, does a poor job of handling the impact, and breaks his leg. The last I saw him, he was arguing with the medics."

"We're certainly a stubborn kind, aren't we?" Tar slurped her shake. "So many returning from war with rushed, incomplete training. They now hide behind hero status, claiming imaginary feats of valour. Tar heard herself speak and realised she had assumed an overly negative tone.
She had feats of valour too, despite not serving in the war. Her Keep had been attacked by surprise, and she'd fought them off with her own soldiers. But she seldom felt comfortable talking about those feats. She had failed her father by allowing him to be captured. The shame still threatened to overwhelm her years later. She'd only managed to hint to Kryu what had transpired, so it was no wonder blurting it out in front of the recruits had shaken her.

Even if she had wanted to gloat, she would've needed to embellish some of it. Much of that battle was clouded by a red haze in her mind, preventing her from recalling some details. The clearest memory she had was tentatively asking her trusted lieutenant about what he'd seen several days after. She would never forget the look on his face. Raw fear, of her.

Tar decided to change the subject. "Have you heard any more whispers of an actual mission, outside Paxopolis?"

Again, Kryu shook his head. "I haven't heard anything specific. I know our commanders have put the garrison on alert, but no one is saying what we are on alert against. I am wondering if we are simply being tested? I believe many of the recruits sent here are chosen based on how well they will get along with former enemies. Perhaps they want to see if we still have the skill and discipline necessary to defend this place?" He reasoned.

"Shaking down the base would put everyone in their place, whether that is at the barricades or on the next shuttle back to Sanghelios." Tar agreed, thoughtfully tasting the last strips of meat in her bowl.

After a short pause to have some of his breakfast, Kryu gave Tar a curious look. "You are still wanting to be reassigned from here, aren't you." He asked, though he still did not know the exact reason why she had been looking to leave.


[System]
Gender: Female
Age: 24
Class: Sanctioned Psyker

Psyker Power
Divination & Telekinesis are her main fields of psychic talent, but she also possesses two other abilities such as Smite and Storm of Lightning, as well as a rudimentary form of mental communication. Does not possess any noteworthy healing abilities, and she is just as likely to send someone to the warp as she is to heal a minor scratch.

Appearance:
5.8ft tall, pale skin and snow white hair. Sturdy and heavy frame, but still retains her feminine figure despite adhering to a strict physical training regime.

The base of her outfit consist of a simple yet elastic skin tight jumpsuit in dark brown color that is capable of withstanding the vacuum of space as well as provide a decent protection against the elements, though offers little protection versus physical threats. Overlayed on top is a series of armaplas plates that form a chestguard, cuisses, knee-high boots, shoulderpads and gloves stretching back and up to her elbows where they form into a sharp point. They offer good locational protection, especially from the front, but leave her jumpsuit exposed in other places, particularly from her lower back and down to the back of her knees where her boots cover both sides of her ankles. The plates are polished to a light gray color, and almost look like silver. The surface is covered with a series of intricate design and artwork in typical imperial fashion, featuring numerous flutes and ridges across the plates, as well as a couple skull imprints. Above her armor she wears a satin blue silk cloak that hangs down from the back of her left shoulder, as well as a silk loincloth hanging from the front of her belt of similar color. Thrown sideways around her torso is a series of books and scrolls attached by chain.

Running up along the spine of her chestguard is a refractor field generator built into the plate itself, taking form of a small generator emitting a series of horizontal, blue lights up along the back of the chestplate, and shaped much like a human skeletal spine. When activated, a faint, blue and almost invisible barrier appears around her figure.

Her helmet is made out of the same material as that of her armor, and it takes the form of a gothic plated helmet, with a narrow but wide blue glass visor and a longer neck guard extending out behind her helmet. Two plastic tubes are attached to a rebreather device at the bottom mouth piece of her helmet, that stretch out on each side of her neck and down into a small, highly pressurized air tank built into the back of her chestguard.

Her boots are magnetic, and her entire suit when worn enables her to survive in space, and also provides immunity to most chemical and biological attacks. She carries enough oxygen to last for almost an hour.

Equipment:

Main Weapon: Her primary weapon is a two handed power-weapon in the form of an oversized saber with a sleek blade and an extended handle which doubles as a psyker staff, and adorned with sigils, trinkets, technological gadgets and inscriptions. She often uses her weapon in conjunction with her telekinetic powers to amplify its destructive potential.

"Scylla" [Custom-Built Handgun], .50 caliber, 7 round clip size x 3 carried.

Ceremonial Dagger. In essence, just a normal albeit flashy dagger with an adorned handle. Typically only carried for show, but is sharp enough to slice through unprotected skin with ease, and small enough to be concealed without much problem.

Refractor Field. Description under Appearance.

Servo-Skull: Mostly used to store events, data, recordings and scrolls.

Savior – Saved an influential nobleman by foreseeing his assassination, tossing him out of the way of the sniper's bullet with her telekinetic powers and into a big wedding cake instead.

Guide – Saved a band of arbiters from the underworld of a hive world during an uprising by using her powers of divination to avoid the roaming mobs and gangs and reached safety without incident. Not a single shot was fired during their escape.

Hates Surprises – Accidentally electrocuted and sent three of the arbiters she had saved above to the infirmary when they tried to surprise her with a party later. Being so used to foresee danger before it happens, she is prone to freaking out over minor surprises that eludes her farsight.

Fireteam – During an Ork incursion, she helped a fireteam of six guardsmen hold off a much larger band of orks after their sergeant was injured through using her powers of divination to guide their fire, turning what had been originally green recruits into seemingly crack shots. Any Ork that left its cover was immediately put down from long range, and when they mounted a frenzied charge together, they didn't make it more than halfway across the field to the trenches before they were wiped out by precision fire.

Warpstorm over Mordran V - Adrianne was assigned to aid the planetary imperial garrison with culling a lesser greenskin uprising, assisting local Imperial Guard and Sisters of Battle forces with the purging when a warpstorm suddenly appeared over the otherwise peaceful colony world of Mordran V. Trapped on the planet, Adrianne found herself fighting for survival alongside her imperial guard as Chaos Ships appeared in orbit, and unleashed a ferocious invasion of the planet! Though the warpstorm only lasted for two weeks, by the time it had lifted, Mordran V had been transformed from a lush, promising garden world into a lifeless, daemon-infested hellscape, with most of its original population killed except for a few imperial strongholds that managed to weather the storm. Her experience from Mordran V would change Adrianne for ever. What had been a cautious girl that had stepped onto the planet would instead emerge a seemingly reckless with little to no restraint on her powers!

[User]
Stukov had pretty much finished stapling himself back together, searing the wound shut with some heat tool the emergency medical kit had beforehand to aid the staples in holding his side together, and packed the now lighter medical kit back up. There was a lot going on, far as the former Armsman could fathom, watching another cog boy come rolling up as, unknown to Stukov, the treatment and continued arguing between Sis and Smiles went on just like normal. Far as he could tell, Cog Girl was getting answers, the wounded woman in the armored vehicle, a Taurox or something like that, Stukov was barely familiar with Guard vehicles to begin with since he usually worked on Naval vessels, not Guard gear. He saw some of the stuff doing his rounds before the Inquisition picked him up, but that hardly meant he was knowledgable about any of it in the slightest. Hell, he didn't even know how to drive a vehicle let alone a combat one. It was never something that might be a concern and come up, after all, Armsman were not ground troops. They operated in the confined close quarters of a pitched boarding action. Being able to drive a tank, not terribly useful in the skill list for the Armsman.

But Stukov digressed, mentally, as the situation kept developing independently of his train of thought. Said newcomer cog boy, not Gear Girl to keep things straight in his head, commented on the injured woman that Boss was treating and he grunted as he forced himself onto his feet. Whether the man was here to help, or not, was irrelevant. Right now? They needed to stitch that woman up to a degree she wouldn't go and die at. Which meant they needed actual trained medical personelle, not his ever so caviler medical solutions or more painkillers, even if the latter of the two made it far easier for the injured in question to not lay around groaning in pain if they were so drugged up they could taste color. Stukov was on his feet as he made his way over to the newcomer Cog Boy and where the injured was, going on about Boss having sent her on some sort of damned mission or another. Well, he really couldn't comment on that, so combat training kicked in. Treating field injured personnel took decisive action, and the owman was probably in all sorts of shock from blood loss right now, painkillers dulling her senses and reactions further aside.

"Alright, questions as to who you are later Cogboy, stabilizing is first priority. Boss, probably not a good idea to move her until she is stable and the extent of her injuries is at least reasonably known. Alright Scarlet, yes that is your nickname now, questions later. Right now, need you to stay still and not agitate any injuries further with unnecessary movement. The amount of drugs in your system right now probably dulls how you can feel the extent of the damage, and any agitation movement might cause. Cogboy, you actually trained in medicae work or just know a thing or two about us meatbags?" Stukov was, in the meantime as he talked since he was no medicae and just had basic workings of the medicae field well enough to stitch people together and stabilize them for proper medics to complain about later, building a stretcher arrangement for when it was safe to move the guardswoman he had nicknamed Scarlet, all because of the blood color. Clever him, right? But he was trying to focus everyone present on the task at hand. Preventing casualties from occurring further.

[Assistant]
Lilith quirked an eyebrow. "Of course I put those melta bombs there! I was assigned to demolish that building and the cult inside - nobody thought to tell me of the Inquisition being here! I just sort of happened along Aviza, killed a bunch of guards, et-cetera. Would've been much more convenient if I knew there was artillery support available, I wouldn't have had to sneak around that mansion for days and carry around all those explosives."

She followed his gaze as he glanced at Cath. "Is she…? She looks rather eh…" Lilith trailed off, letting the woman's condition speak for itself.

She turned back to the Inquisitor, "While I'm here, is there anything you need? You seem… rather reason compared to ah, your compatriots, shall we say?"

[User]
Ansiel Hated flying when there wasn't battle waiting for her once she got off. In fact he hated flying all together. But this flight was different from the rest, it was more Boring than the rest. She was all alone on this trip. There was no one to talk to, no one to discuss weapons with,... No one to flirt with. She had found that for the past hour she had just Ben fondling with her armor just to block out the boredom.

After a few more minutes the driver of the Valkyrie she was on turned on the intercom and said "well be landing shortly have your belongings ready. over" and signed off.

Ansiel rose with her duffle bag in hand and her sword carefully wrapped in straps that was slung over her shoulder opened the hatche as they began descending to the ground. "So this is my new station huh, I'd better get used to it" she said to herself taking in the view? "Thanks for the lift" she said over the intercom to the driver as she lept from the Valkyrie as it hovered a few feet off the ground and landed with a thump as she became familiar with her surroundings and began walking to her new HQ.

[Assistant]
Walking outside of the door to her room would be Adrianne, the snow-white haired Psyker now fully dressed in her usual battle gear consisting of a deep brown skin tight jumpsuit overlayed with a set of sectional plates in the form of a chestguard, long gauntlets and knee high boots fashioned in the usual imperial, gothic style. In her hand she carried her slightly bent psyker staff, and perched on her shoulder would be that of a psyber raven, a black feathered cybernetically enhanced raven constantly watching her surroundings through its one red, bionic eye that seemed to be constantly adjusting itself.

"It's probably time to regroup with the rest of the team."

Adrianne thought to herself. However, thoughts of the recent failed arrest attempt at the mansion also ran through her mind. Memories of how she had driven the Inquisitor through an imperial guard blockade at great risk, how she had severely beaten and then left one of their undercover operatives, and recently pissed off Sister Aviza by giving her a new cool tattoo.

Tallying her favors and ills, she was definitely leaning more towards the latter.

"I can leave the scrying for later. Right now I probably ought to generate some goodwill!"

Walking down into the main living room of the apartment, Adrianne would come to find that none of the other members of the team were currently present. Perfect. That gave her time to prepare before they arrived! Picking up speed, she would quickly head over towards the kitchen area, her psyber raven jumping off her shoulder to perch itself ever vigilantly on top of a frock holder. Reaching the kitchen area, she would flick her wrist as the shelves opened themselves up. Using her power of telekinesis, the psyker would quickly begin to prepare a meal, moving large amounts of pots, pans, knives, ingredients with her will alone.

However, she had not gotten more than halfway through the preparation when she suddenly noticed a valkyrie touching down on the pad outside of the apartment. Gazing up to look out through the glass window with her violet eyes, the psyker could see another woman approaching the doors to the apartment. A sister of battle no less.

"Another one?!" Adrianne would mutter to herself as she watched Ansiel approach the apartment, the psyker currently surrounded by at least 12 different knives floating in the air around her, as well as one tomato.


[System]
"Why am I here, you ask? Well, for the adventure of course!"
Nicknames/Title:
 Spell Blade
 The Wandering Scholar

Theme Songs:
 Standard Theme
 Battle Theme

Gender:
 Female

Marital Status:
 --

Age:
 20

Sexuality:
 Pauline

Family Ties:
 --

Class:
 Magus
 There are those who spend their lives poring over ancient tomes and texts, unlocking the power of magic, and there are those who spend their time perfecting the use of individual weapons, becoming masters without equal. The magus is at once a student of both philosophies, blending magical ability and martial prowess into something entirely unique, a discipline in which both spell and steel are used to devastating effect. As she grows in power, the magus unlocks powerful forms of arcana that allow her to merge her talents further, and at the pinnacle of her art, the magus becomes a blur of steel and magic, a force that few foes would dare to stand against.
 Magi spend much of their time traveling the world, learning whatever martial or arcane secrets they can find. They might spend months learning a new sword-fighting style from a master warrior, while simultaneously moonlighting in the local library, poring through tomes of ancient lore. Most who take this path dabble in all sorts of lore, picking up anything that might aid them in their search for perfection.

Weapon Mastery(ies):
 Sword, Tome

Inventory:
 Silver Sword
 Arcthunder
 Vulnerary

Personality:
 Youthful, and full of energy and wonder, Aika feels most at home both at the heart of a battlefield and in the depths of a library. She often might act too immature or optimistic for her companions, but she is a reliable source of knowledge, and a well trusted blade. Doesn't like to talk about her family.

Biography:
 Originally from the icy peaks of Frossbarr, Aika took to the roads in pursuit of great masters of magic and martial arts. Her desire to become a legend in both swordplay and spellcraft has led her across the sandy deserts of Alistaf and the thick jungles of Jotenvarr, stopping only to learn and practice with scholars and soldiers alike.
 It was during her stay in Jotenvarr that she learned that King Alexandro himself requested her by name for her skill. Upon arrival, she happily agreed to take up arms in the royal guard.

[User]
Tybalt Argyris

As they conversed, Tybalt took a seat on the bed across from Hiro, listening intently to his words. Being of noble birth, Tybalt had not had the kind of experience people like Hiro had. He did not get to see the world like they did, he had to learn what it was like to survive on his own, not be brought up in poverty and have survival constantly on his mind.

"Incredible, you used all of the beast you say? Is that where you got your clothing?" He asked, motioning to Hiro's attire, visually shuddering a little bit from the idea of wearing dead animal skins right off the beast. "That sounds like an incredibly difficult life, but the fact that you sit here now is a testament to the amount of drive you truly have. I'm glad your skills let you survive until now, and apparently much more. Boars and stags made good target practice from the sounds of it, comparative to flying horses, even!" He quipped, letting a laugh slip out after his joke. "Then again, I figure squirrels and birds would be much harder to hit...all the more reason to respect such marksmanship. Let me say I would not want to be on the end of your bow."

He glanced to the others, cracking a smile as he saw the merc and the cavalier leering at one another. Rising from his seat, he clapped Hiro on the shoulder and motioned to the others. "Come, let's go meet the other squad while we still have time."

Hoping the archer was following him, the mage briskly strode over to the others, placing a leg on a chair in front of him to boldly announce his arrival into the conversation with Hiro in tow.

"Hello, my new friends!" He spoke to the cavalier, mercenary, and swordsman, a bold grin on his face. "I believe I have not introduced myself. My name is Tybalt. Talented mage, noble on the rise, and easy on the eyes if I do say so myself." He proclaimed to the three. "And what fine gentlemen may I be speaking to?"

[Assistant]
Joan Croce

A woman, dressed in the traditional pink suit of a troubradour, though she wore a short pink and white skirt along with a white cape skirt that reached her knees, made her way towards the dorm where squad Quinque and squad Trignita.

When she arrived and was about to open the door, she noticed the foortprint on it. Her hand twitched back as she raised an eyebrow.

How unsightly, what kind of person would do this? Ruining a fine piece of architecture like this... well, Joan could only reprimand them later on.

The woman opened the door to the dorm, but perhaps her push was a little too strong or the Claude's previous kick had kind of messed up the door, but the door slammed against the wall once she opened it.

"Oh my." She brought a single hand to her mouth as she said so.

That would certainly turn the attention of more than one of her squadmates to her.

Instead of panicking, the noble woman smiled at the other squads and then bowed down, "I hope this evening finds you well. Please, forgive my blunder. I will try not to repeat it in the near future. In any case, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. I am Joan Croce, and I've been assigned to squad Quinque starting this evening."

The woman quickly introduced herself, and then went on with the question some of them probably wanted to ask, why the hell was she lacking an squad?

"Sadly, I am the sole survivor of squad one. Most of my squadmates rushed in thoughtlessly and were swiftly killed by a flurry of arrows." The noble woman then cupped her cheek as she remembered the events from this morning.

Her eyebrows knitted together as she thought about it.

"If it weren't for my cute Merin, I don't know what I would have done. She dashed forward and dodged all of the arrows, before running over the man we were supposed to fell. I would like all of you to meet her at some point." The girl smiled again and then nodded. "But just look at me, rambling over and over. I am sure my personal circumstances are of little interest to you people. I hope we can get along."

She bowed down again and move on to one of the empty bunks, leaving a bag with her things beside the bed.

[User]
Hiro Anu

Hiro was going to go speak to someone else before hearing a new person enter the room, a new member for squad Quinque too. He heard her speak of her whole squad dying and it was a bit saddening but he knew that she could move on. He moved over and said "Welcome to squad Quinque, I am Hiro Anu. It is sad to hear that your entire squad died, but now you with us! We lost a man as well, so I know a bit of your grief. Be that as it may I hope you find some comfort." Hiro gave Joan a small smile, hoping to make her feel comfortable at the very least.

[Assistant]
Scott Riley

Read my CS if you haven't yet if you want some background info

"This must be the right way..." Scott muttered to himself as he rounded the corner to the hall where his new bunk would be. Remembering his assigned room number, he could make a quick assessment of how far down the hall his room would be based on the number of the room closest to him. And, as he scanned the hall to find his room, he caught the glimpse of a troubadour entering what he determined to be the right room. At least, that's what he thought. He only caught a glimpse of her backside, after all. Then again, the backside was all he needed.

Re-focusing on the task at hand and combing his hand through his short red hair, Scott made his way after her and entered as she was finishing her story. Not soon enough to hear most of it, but from what he could pick up she was at least in a similar position as he; many of the fools once called his teammates had perished in the previous trials, but out of the survivors were a pair that had been separated into different squads, with Scott being one of them. "Perhaps I can break the ice with our shared tragedy," he thought to himself. "Ladies love a sympathetic man in times of need!" If this attempt to swoon another woman went better than his previous one, then perhaps she won't ask to be assigned a different team in the next mission like the other survivor of his squad did.

Finally getting a good look into the room while Hiro introduced himself, he studied each person for just a moment, though spending a moment longer than necessary looking at the troubadour. Then, to his surprise, he encountered a face he had not seen in a while, and yet remembered it as though he had seen it yesterday. "Well, if my eyes don't deceive me! Is that my green-clad companion, Mikhail? What are the odds of that!" he practically shouted as he dropped his baggage next to the door and rushed over to the dour man. Commencing a strong and hardy embrace, the armor they wore made clanks of various pitches that didn't quite seem to blend well together as they pierced the room's already stuffy air. "Tell me, how have your fared so far?"

[User]
Diana

Diana appeared surprised at Pauline's question. "Hugging this tail obviously." she said in a slightly dreamy tone of voice. Then more people came in and a lot of people started talking. The amount of names and people was nearly dizzying. So Diana tuned it out and focused on the ever so soft tail. She was getting sleepy. Diana's stroking slowed incrementally and her eyes shut to the background noise of conversation and the sweet feeling of that tail. In a few more seconds Diana was laying on the bed next to Azi, hands still clutching the tail but finally still.

[Assistant]
Hyakuya

More people were getting in. So all of them were in other squads but then their squadmates met their untimely deaths. And so they've been reassigned to other squads and coincidentally, the ended up in either Squad Trignita or Squad Quinque. Not that Kyakuya was complaining. It seemed that most squads composed of 6 people, like how they originally started, so they were completing their set.

Joan Croce. It was obvious that she was of noble blood, from her dress to her manners. "I had heard that Lord and Lady Croce had a daughter. I never knew that their daughter would dream of joining the army." As someone who had lived in Jotenvarr since the war and then lived in the palace, he had interacted or at least heard of talks about the nobility around here. And his ears were all too familiar with the family name Croce.

"I am Hyakuya, it is a pleasure to meet you Lady Croce. Hm... shall we call you by Joan perhaps? And I look forward to working with you." A troubadour, a healer on horseback one could say. She was needed in their squad and as one could easily see, without a healer, they would end up bleeding like Hyakuya did. He was better now but if they were to be injured in the middle of battle and cannot battle, that would pose a huge problem and thus a healer was needed.

[User]
Mikhail Fuast

Mikhail had been moments away from unloading a rather snarky reply on Claude when he felt something… wrong. It wasn't the overly peppy Joan girl that made his skin crawl with her positive attitude and good manners. That was something that he had spent years growing accustomed to. No, it was more like a dark harbinger of inevitability that was eerily familiar. And then the door opened and everything became clear.

Walking like he owned the place, Scott's arrival was one that left Mikhail awfully conflicted. On one hand, the womanizer was somebody he could count on in a fight. On the other hand though, Scott also had an awful penchant for hu-

"Oof," Mikhail grunted ignobly as the other cavalier brought him into a most unwelcome embrace, which he had no intent on returning. For a man that kept most people at a figurative arm's length at all times, Scott was the one person that made it physically impossible to do so. Mikhail still wasn't sure if hated that wholeheartedly or merely hated it with a note of grudging respect.

"I find myself questioning a great deal of things," he replied, "Such as how a sorry lech like yourself is still in the military, much less a candidate for the royal guard." His words were one part harsh honesty, one part camaraderie. Unfortunately, Mikhail found himself unable to suppress a grin from surfacing, as it was never good to encourage Scott.

"Now while it is good to see you, can you let go? You're causing a scene."

[Assistant] More and more people were joining the squads. A rather brash merc, apparently from Aika's squad, a Myrmidon - not from either of the squads in the room and a Red Knight who immediately struck a conversation with his green and rather depressive counterpart. Was that all? Fredrick was to join Aika's squad, but there still was no one to fill the missing place in their squad. Oh, there she is! An incredibly beautiful and graceful woman in a pink and white outfit entered the room and introduced herself. "Nice to meet you! I think we'll be teammates." - Pauline smiled at Joan. -"I'm Pauline at this ado- ahem, and this lady next to me is Aika." She lowered her voice slightly and turned to her companion - "See, you won't have to introduce yourself for the fifth time. Anyway, Joan, if you'd like, I could introduce you to others. I don't mind!"


[System]
7 May 1908

Appearance
Average height, sand brown hair kept up in a professional looking bun when in school/working, left down to let her natural wave free. Hazel eyes often behind reading glasses and dark circles from being up way too late. Occasionally looks a little haggard, her fair skin making the dark circles a little more obvious. A few dark freckles on her face and arms stand out starkly.

Personality
Kind, giving, passionate, and a little absent minded. Bea is a nice person to work with, talk with (as long as you don't mind random, winding tangents on things you might not actually want to know about), and generally be around. She's dedicated to learning and her work, doesn't give up easily and will keep going sometimes even past when it's obvious she should give up.

History

William Axford
9 September 1893

Appearance
Tall, broad shouldered, and generally built like a working man. Strawberry blond hair kept just outside of military standards, light blue eyes set in a handsome face. Few scars here and there, along with a few tattoos. One of his daughters name above his heart, a phoenix across his shoulder on his back, and a naked valkyrie one his right inner forearm.

Personality
Will is a bit of a bastard sometimes, and for the most part doesn't really like to spend lots of time in large groups of people. He's fine with a few people for long times but public spaces start to bother him if he's in them too long. He's rather caring to people he's close to, overly protective almost of them. He treats women amazingly well despite still being a bit of a sleaze sometimes when he talks to them.

History
Born the eldest of far too many, childhood was rough and made him tough. He left home as soon as he could and didn't look back really. A few years before the war broke out, at seventeen he became a father. But that only encouraged him to enlist and ship out.

He served on the front lines for a few yearsbefore moving on to airship service where he found his stride, quickly rising up the ranks. A year before the cease fire was called, he injured fairly badly in battle and he was still in recovery when the fighting stopped. When he was up again he'd been discharged and he took the offer from one of his former officers as captain of one of his civilian vessels. He has since captained the Valkyrie ever since.

Rebeca Elizabeth Axford
25 April 1910

Appearance
Medium height, slim build with a lovely set of curves. Long, mid back length bright red hair hair and startling blue eyes. She's almost always with a bright smile on her face, and a kind look on her face. Even if she had shorter hair there'd be no denying that she was a woman, everything about her screamed it, but in a soft way, especially considering her age. Delicate and feminine, but there's enough spunk in her look that one would believe she was able to go running and swimming with the boys just as well as them.

Personality
Kind, caring, compassionate, loud, exuberant, and loving. There is something about Rebeca that makes it hard to not be happy when you're around her. She gets under your skin quickly, making her seem like she's always been your friend. The girl is all smiles and light laughter. There are very few who would not count her friend, or friendly, even amongst hardened people she is a source of light.

History
The only child of a pair of high school sweet hearts who never wed, Rebeca was raised just on the cusp of middle class. Her mother did well enough to never have her wanting, but the extra little things of life did slip them by as well. But she was happy, and bright and didn't care about those things. Her mother died when she just a little over thirteen, leaving her to live with her grandparents just a few towns over from Saint Louis. She was happy and content with her life, even if she didn't see her father as much as she would have liked to have.

At sixteen, her grandmother who was already I'll passed, her grandfather a few months later. She stayed in the house for a while before her uncle kicked her out because he didn't approve of her lifestyle, and had never liked that she had been born out of wedlock and remains so. So she sent a letter to her father and he gladly took her with him when he next came into town.

[User]
The rest of their breakfast was less outwardly awkward. Or at least Bea kept herself from saying anything too foolish. But she couldn't stop herself from thinking about where her mind had wandered. She did well in keeping it in check, but she kept finding herself looking at him just the slightest bit differently. Hopefully, it would pass by the time they were on the way back to the airship.

By the time they were finished eating and had returned back to the ship, both Rebeca and Will were standing on the outside deck, both of them smoking cigarettes as they talked to each other. It was very clear from the way they stood and their movements that they were related to one another. It was also very clear that they were both agitated by something.

"That does not look promising," Bea said to Roger as they approached and made their way up.

When Rebeca noticed them, she nudged her father's shoulder for him to turn. He promptly put out what was left of his cigarette and turned fully to the pair.

"Well, bad news," he said solemnly, though the anger was clear in his tone as well. It was looking very likely that someone was likely to get yelled at today.

[Assistant]
It was fairly obvious that Will was upset. There was a bit of anger in his body language and tone. Roger frowned slightly knowing that whatever it was, it was serious. No doubt it was tied to their departure. The man had said something about them not being able to leave earlier and that it might take a bit longer and now, the fact he was outside with Rebeca indicated that it was probably worse than initially thought.

"What is it?" Roger asked.

Part of him worried sabotage. Thieves. Or maybe something worse. But he dismissed that. His overactive imagination, combined with the threat of what happened to Bea's father made him a bit paranoid. And true to that, the captain confirmed that they still wouldn't be able to leave just yet. Much as Roger had initially guessed.

"Do we know how much of a delay this might be?" Roger asked. He didn't want to delay Bea's journey any longer than it needed to. Not to mention, if they had to wait a day or two, she'd have to go back to Ms. Mortimer's boarding house and the woman would continue to harangue her, using this mechanic issue as a 'sign' that she shouldn't go.

Roger glanced at Bea before looking back at Will. "Is there anything I can assist with?" He was really mechanical but if there was something to help speed the process, he was willing to try.

~ ~ ~
You knew it was bad when she slipped into muttering in Yiddish. The man was an imbecile, a schmock. He called himself a mechanic? She had seen better mechanics from children. Okay, that might be taking it a bit far. Still...

Estella lay on her back, under the engine trying to put it back together. Fredricks had told her to take another section apart in this area but she wasn't going to. It didn't take her that long to realize that there was no purpose in his commands. It was almost as if he was purposely trying to make the job harder. Either way, she had started to ignore him while she repaired this one section. Of course, as soon as he found out, she'd undoubtedly get an earful and even probably kicked out. But she wasn't going to take anything else apart unless she had a need too.

"Are you done removing the capacitor?" Speak of the idiot. "What the .... are you doing?" The man's face peered down at her. "I told you to remove the capacitor. Are you as deaf as you are stupid?"

Patience. Tranquility. It only could go so far. Getting out from under the engine she glared at him. "I'm stupid? You're the one who's," she rattled off a string of words in a combination of Yiddish and Danish, the tone pretty much indicating what she thought. "You're making this worse by taking every," another string of Yiddish "apart." She crossed her arms and glared up at him.

Fredricks' face turned purple with rage. Shouting obscenities he pointed toward the door. "Get out of here you ---. When the captain finds out how much trouble you're causing me he'll kick your sorry..."

Estella cut him. "Let's go talk to him then." She shot back. "I'm sure after some explanation he'll gladly sort this out."

Fredricks frowned slightly. Pride kicking in, he shot her a lock. "Fine!"

[User]
Bea did not like the way that sounded. She had wanted to get going as soon as possible, but she did understand some delay. But this was more than just a delay. She didn't want to go back and stay at her room in Ms. Mortimer's house. She didn't want the overbearing woman to act like that was reason enough for her not to go. She didn't need that sort of thing heaped onto her more. Perhaps Captain Will would let them stay aboard even if they didn't leave that day.

And there was a moment there where she considered that it might have been that girl. And then she hated herself for it. This girl was not to blame, and she should trust the captain's judgements. Roger did, so she could too.

"Honestly don't know," Will replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "Hopefully we'll be in the air by morning, provided we can get things up and running by tonight. But I say this based on the way the engine room was looking last I was down there. And that was before the girl went down. So things might be sooner than that."

He turned to Bea and smiled slightly. "I'm sorry to delay you, miss."

She equally smiled and tilted her head some. "It's quite alright. It wasn't anything that you could foresee coming."

The sound of footsteps coming out of the hatch made her turn to see the approaching form of both the mechanic and the girl. Bea raised her eyebrow some and stepped back to let them come out.

"What?" Will asked, looking between the girl and the old man. "Please tell me you're here to say that things are fixed."

[Assistant]
It was apparent that the day was not going well, from the Captain's point of view. Roger didn't blame him. As a captain you expected your ship to be ready to go - especially if you had paying customers placing their expectations in you. Not to mention, Roger was familiar enough with Will. This was not something he liked in general - or at least that's what he had picked up. He glanced toward the entrance as the mechanic came out followed by the girl they had seen the other day.

"Captain, this...this girl is wasting my time. Being inefficient and completely disrespectful." It was evident the man was furious. His face was purple with rage. His words clipped. If it wasn't for the fact that there were ladies here, he would have probably used fouler language. "She is a complete imbecile who has no concept of listening to those with experience or even working with a ship. I can't work with her here. She's getting in my way and making the repairs longer than needed."

"Well, if you didn't have me take apart every piece of equipment, it wouldn't take as long," Estella snapped. She visibly calmed herself, taking a deep breath, closing her eyes just a brief second. As much as she wanted to tear into this schmuck, anger and accusations would not help at this time. As it was, she was the assistant and probably had less say - though, seeing Rebeka there, Estella she had at least one person who would actually listen to her. Not that the captain wouldn't. He seemed reasonable. But at the same time, he also didn't seem like the type to put up with accusations and fighting.

A bit calmer, she looked at the man. "With all due respect, the chief mechanic is having me take apart major sections of the engine. Areas that don't seem to be affected. Out of the six tasks assigned this morning, five of them, were perfectly fine - as discovered as I took them apart. I'm not an expert but they also don't seem to correspond with a problem to warrant taking them apart."

"That's right, you're not an expert! You're a ..." The man bit off his sentence and gave her a look that practically telegraphed what he was thinking.

Roger took Bea's arm. The hostility in the air was very evident. It was internal matter but they were stuck there as observers. Though he could have interjected and stated they would leave, he didn't want to interrupt.


[System]
WIP
Race: Ventus

Sex: Male

Age: 51

Appearance:
Eolas has the appearance of a rather standard Ventus, albeit and aged one. When standing straight, he reaches 7'3" but rarely does he walk fully upright these days. His skin is a slight purple-hued off leather color, somewhat similar to that of humans from the tropical reaches of Enduwin. His Adhark, the cartilage structures on his head, curve several inches up from his skull and are rather pronounced, something that comes with age. Wizened as he is, a small silver beard has set in around his mouth, though it is well kept.

As for attire, Eolas is almost exclusively seen adorning robes with an over cloak. Practical, many-pocketed clothing that's also relatively cheap. A thin oak walking stick is Eolas' eternal companion on his travels. His travelling bags too, are an ever present sight and contain coin, food, tomes, and a few odd artefacts.

History:
Born into a well-to-do family involved in Ozgart's main mining operation, Eolas certainly had a significant head-start to life in Vrent. The second of four siblings, Eolas had a sheltered but well taught childhood. Early in his teens, in emerging as his own person, he showed a bright spark for academic learning. His parents supportive of their child, and well aware how valuable a technical mind would be for their industry, Eolas was pushed to really pursue his studies. Straining the limits of his aptitude to learn early on, he quickly decided that pure academics were of greater interest to him. Eolas wasn't particularly close to any of his siblings. They all formed a happy family and he loves them dearly, but both of his brothers and his sister had wildly differing interests and opinions to him.

Thus, at the age of seventeen, when formally finishing his basic studies, he choose to pursue a path in the Vidril Of Knowledge. Though mildly disappointed in losing such an asset for their company, his parents were thrilled their son had carved his own path in life. The scholarly life suited the young Ventus, he worked many hours alongside teachers, researchers and field agents for the Vidril. Eolas had the greatest interest, in studying the Rapture, its causes and effects, though this was a great task, with so little information readily available. His formal apprenticeship with the Vidril lasted just over a decade, as was the norm. Entering into his own after, three years on he was given the full position of researcher with field duties for the Vidril of Knowledge.

The next two decades of his life are rather mundane, and not worth telling, as Eolas himself says. Some failed lovers, endless nights buried in ancient texts and a slow but respectable climb up the internal hierarchy of the Vidril. Indeed, only ten years into his tenure and his knowledge of the Rapture had grown enough for him to be considered the leading expert on the topic in Vrent. Though many refuted the validity of pursuing such knowledge, Eolas was well respected by both peers and students alike. When the then Speaker Of Knowledge chose to step down from the position to pursue her own personal life, Eolas was the 'in' shoe-in to take the position. Though, ultimately not becoming the Speaker, those close to him are aware he was offered the position, but is one of he only people in history to decline the role.

Fast forward to the present and Eolas has left the Vidril. Six months ago he signed his early retirement parchment, taking a small final lump endorsement and choosing to independently teach at a small facility in Sfel. Since then he has become a respected member of the local community in the port, a new and well-liked teacher for the town's children. In his own time, he still stays in contact with his family via letter, and spends many hours doing field work in a nearby set of ruins, thought to be the reason for his relocation.

[User]
Hector could only raise an eyebrow at their latest arrival. Everything about him seemed a tad...flashy (granted, Hector himself was still in his desert garb and that wasn't exactly subtle either). From the way he dressed and acted to the way he talked. Regardless, he smiled and introduced himself to the flamboyant knight. "Hector. Pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Sir Oliver." Then, much to Hector's surprise, they started to get up and leave the quiet and, as far as Hector was aware, secure tavern. And they were on a dock.

I got a bad feeling about this. He thought worriedly, standing up and following the group out. As expected on the only port town in all of Vrent, it was bustling with activity and people. Not that that concerned him. So long as he stayed as close as he could to their group, he wouldn't be lost in the crowd of giants. Unfortunately, his plan meant that he wasn't aware of where they were headed until it was far to late. Rather than heading towards a nice, abandoned, solid in the earth, warehouse, or something that was an equivalent, they were headed towards the sea. What's worse, they were headed towards a boat on the sea. Hector visibly paled, and cursed under his breath.

Boats. I hate boats. And the sea. And the motion of the sea. Why did I agree to a meeting on a port town of all places? They got on the boat, Hector's stomach already roiling and turning. "I hate boats. We'd better be getting paid up front for this." He groaned as they began to move out into the center of the bay and he tried to hold his breakfast in. Puking in front of his new employer wouldn't be a good way to make a first impression. On the other hand, the odds of him not puking were drastically decreasing the longer he was on this stupid boat. Things were made marginally better when money, and a lot of it judging from the looks on everyone's face. Hector, judging himself stable enough to not vomit, carefully leaned back from over the side of the boat and checked his pouch. "My my. You really do want to keep us silent." He muttered, looking up at his new employer.

Then his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open slightly, an incredulous laugh escaping him. A joke. Surely. He'll tell us the real job in a brief moment. He became reassured that the man wasn't joking when Sir Oliver's protest went on, quickly followed by Bakk and Ren's announcements. And still no revelation it was a joke came. Well. He is paying a lot of money. And it would be a lovely challenge. Especially with this...finesse lacking group. Fuck it. I'm in. But our good knight appears to be out.

Once everyone was done talking Hector, still leaning closely towards the side of the boat and looking decidedly nauseated, spoke. "If he's not going to participate in the theft, we should kill him. If he's a noble knight he might feel it his duty to notify the Speakers that we're going to try to steal the most highly prized religious relic in all of Vrent. If he's a greedy knight, despite his claims, he might realize there's a nice, safe, way to get a lovely reward from the Speakers by turning us in. If either of those happens, the Speakers will doubtlessly visit your tavern first, then the boat owner, and then you. We'll all be executed or worse, and he'll walk away richer and safer than ever. Even if he doesn't talk, the Speakers catch wind of this they'll start looking for anyone who can tell them information."

 "Unless he's planning on running back to Gallowmere or somewhere far away, they'll likely find him, torture him, and then make him tell them everything he knows. If we kill him, and let his body sink to the bottom of the sea, we have nothing to worry about." Hector gave a slightly apologetic shrug to Sir Oliver. "No offense, Sir Knight. You surely understand business. Of course, if enough of our group don't want to join this venture, we have nothing to worry about, for there won't be enough of us to even attempt this theft." Hector leaned back over his side of the boat, his stomach roiling, breathing in and out deeply. Don't vomit, don't vomit, don't vomit.

"Now for the love of the Gods can we get of this damned boat?"

[Assistant]
Brevana had observed the surplus arrivals and the group's departure from the docks in composed silence, boarded, rowed and ruminated in silence. It was with silence she declined the proffered pouch and steeled herself for the impossible task Eolas had presented. However, it was not with such reticence that she addressed the squabble that had erupted. "A tactless beast, a sea-sick midget of a man and a hesitant knight." announced the woman warrior with a harsh drawl. "If that is all those coins are worth you may all swim, such allies only distance us from our goal." With that her stare swept over those that had not as yet (albeit through inaction) revealed themselves to be anything but professionals. "As do these theatrics" she'd note with a finely honed sharpness.

"Ignorance is never advantageous Eolas." Brevana would assert, reigning in her tone to the sort of low, forceful hush that befits mantra as much as machination. "Would you not do well to remind those among us that have forgotten: none have taken more risk than our employer in assembling here, and that surely even a 'scholar' of the Red Way is not so misguided as to suggest such an endeavor on a whim." Though authored as a suggestion her words were all but the scolding of a misbehaved child, the remainder embogged by a cursory glance to the problematic trio for which it was surely intended. "So--as you must be eager to assure--what opportunity threatens to slip through our grasp? Or has the weight of a coming calamity merely forced your hand?" In truth she needed no convincing, even that much was obvious; an eye of the Transgressor seemed a worthy measure of her skills.

With that she found repose, posture settling as an arched brow bid reply of her cohorts; curious as to how this day would unfold.


[System]
Norgardian | 32 | Male

Appearance
Standing at 6'2 and having a muscular build due to training and years of fighting. He has long red hair that almost extends to his chest, along with a full red beard, and has in both his hair and beard braids in them. Mainly at the end points of his hair and beard. He has a pale complexion, and while his face does not have scars, his arms, chest, and back have several. He carries himself like a warrior, there is no mistaking it. Tends to have a serious look on his face most of the time.

Personality
Kjetil can be described as a stoic and, at times, an emotionless person, along with being a religious person. This is due to years of being a warrior in service of a religious warrior cult and despite leaving the cult. He can still be a religious and passionate person, especially when it is not rage, and can be a reliable ally and friend. Though only if you win his trust, and he is slow to trust others. Though once that trust is broken, then it is hard to regain his trust. As a result of his training, he uses his anger in combat. It is actually hard to make him angry outside of combat since he can control it and only will get angry if someone really tries or said something happens that he takes personally. And he can be rather cold to someone that he dislikes.

Background

* Profession: Warrior
* Class: Barbarian
* Heritage: Noble

History Kjetil was born the youngest of four to a noble family in Norgard and from early on. He had shown he had a warrior spirit in him. Always wanting to spar with his older siblings and pick fights with others of his age. He was given a noble education and when he was fourteen. His parents knowing full well of his warrior spirit and knowing that he as little chance of inheriting anything of note. They wanted him to have a good life regardless. It was then that his parents decided to give him to the Wolves of Ulfric. A religious warrior cult that being apart of it was considered a great honor to both Kjetil and his family, even if he had no choice in the matter.

For years Kjetil trained under the Wolves. Under strict training and learning their ways, praying exclusively to their patron deity, Ulfric, God of Wolves, Winter, and Battle. Kjetil was taught to tap into his anger and channel it into a primal fury. Becoming a warrior that by the time he was eighteen, Kjetil was almost a Wolf, but he still had one last test to see if he would truly join the cult. That test was going on a raid and prove that he had truly become one of them and earned his place among them by surviving his first battle.

He was sent along with a Norgardian raiding party that was heading to the lands of the Banians. There Kjetil, using his training and tapping into his anger. Kjetil entered into a primal fury and killed several Banians during the raid despite the injuries to his body. In the end, he would survive his first battle and come out with several kills and loot. The Wolves, upon his return, welcomed him and was officially made a member of the cult. It was one of the happiest days of his life and one he would not forget.

For ten years, he was in the cult and went on many raids. Kjetil did not just become a strong warrior but considered his fellow Wolves as family. Growing close to them and would grow close to one in particular. Ingunn was her name, a former commoner and one of the several women in the cult. The pair worked and did well together, and the two fell in love. While he knew the cult had no problems with Wolves getting together as long as it did not stop them from their duties. It started to make him think about things, and now he was with Ingunn. The life he started to want would not be possible within the cult. So after a deal of courage from both of them, the two ask the cult's leader Aslak for permission to leave the cult. Aslak noted how long they have been with them and how well they have served under Ulfric. So after much time, he finally decided not to allow them to leave the cult and that the two should be separated from each other.

Kjetil did not take this well, and the two were punished by Aslak. But this did not stop the two, and eventually, they were able to escape from the cult and flee to Thaegoradrim. There they tried to live a normal life in a village and hide from the cult as best they could. For a few years, this worked, and the couple lived happily there. However, it was hard for Kjetil to adjust to living there because of his warrior and noble background, but he tried his best and seemed to be getting the hang of it. More so once he learned that Ingunn was pregnant with their child. Then their happiness turned to tragedy.

One day the cult found them while Kjetil was in the fields and Ingunn was at their home. A group of five Wolves disguised as guards appeared at the village, and once they spotted Ingunn, they threw off their disguises and charged her. Roaring the cult's battle cry and Kjetil was able to hear the battle cry and instantly knew that the cult had found them. Rushing back home, he found Ingunn bloody and in the middle of fighting the Wolves. Rushing to her side and unleashed his primal fury on the Wolves. In the end, the Wolves were slain with help from the local guards, and while it left Kjetil wounded but alive. Ingunn was not so lucky and would die a short time after the fight from her wounds. With one last breath, she made Kjetil promise one thing, that he should live, and he knew what she meant by that. That he should not take revenge against the cult since it would be suicide, and she did not want him to die in a fruitless fight.

So after burying her body and knowing that the cult would be after him until he was dead. Kjetil, with the last of his coin, ventured far south to escape the cult and start a new life for himself. If he could, that is.

Reason for Travel
With a religious warrior cult wanting his head, Kjetil needed someplace where the cult could not find them, so he ventured far south on board the Skirmisher to escape from the Wolves of Ulfric and for a new beginning if he could manage that.

Motivation/Goal
Keeping his promise to his late wife that he will live and not throw his life away for a fruitless fight. Also, seeking a new life away from the reach and eyes of the Wolves of Ulfric.

Capabilities
Years spent as a warrior in the Wolves of Ulfric had made Kjetil a strong warrior, and knows his way around several weapons, including his fists. He personally favored axes and shields. Often using his anger to unleash a fury of strong but quick blows and relies on brute force in battle. Due to his training, he has survived blows that would greatly wound others and has developed a high pain tolerance, along with being a skilled sailor from his years on raids with his fellow Norgardians.

Equipment
You will leave this blank for now.

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Money
0 for the moment

Languages
Grim Northern

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[User]
"It's good to know your spirits are high," Captain Burnside deadpanned, Holfort helping him up off the ground. Burnside coughed for a moment, and he gladly accepted some of the rationed water, though he made sure not to take more than two small sips to wet his throat. The Captain found a broken piece of kindling on the ground, and on second look it was likely the butt end of Aldrich's pike. He placed it into the ground and steadied himself, using it as a walking stick it seemed.

"Seems they're all wanting to go through. And I say I'd take that stance myself," Holfort said to the Captain earnestly. He had the look of an honest man, as far as sailors on a privateer ship could be. Simple and hard working, but undeniably resourceful when the time came. "You think you can handle that, sir?"

The Captain cleared his throat and looked at the sun, blinking. "Looks like we have no choice."

Burnside and Holfort began to trek toward's the treeline, passing the statue as they did so, only giving it a quick glance. The way the Captain looked at it, it was hard to tell if he knew what it was or not, but he said not a word. The birds above them called out with undulating cries, but otherwise there seemed to be no life close by. The ferns and brush tickled their legs as they took their first steps into the jungle, following the Captain. He seemed to know at least the general direction they needed to travel.

As they continued, the jungle became more animated. Monkeys and strange, squirrel-like animals swung and scampered across the branches of the forest canopy above them. The shade was welcome, but it was humid and somewhat enclosed, the air heavier than on the beach. Sweat came to their skin easily, and soon the bugs came. Big mosquitos and floating beetles and large centipedes crawling along the leafy, soft ground. But that was a mere annoyance.

An hour of walking later, an obstacle appeared in the form of a beast. Firstly, there was a low growl, like a stalling dwarven steam engine. Suddenly something large appeared. Just simply appeared. The stealth was impossible, and yet it seemingly did it without purpose, for the jaguar, and it was indeed a large jaguar, languidly strolled out of the brush and lazily glanced at the assembled group. It stopped six stride away, its eyes widening at the realization of the group of what it likely perceived as large apes. It's maw peeled back to reveal thick fangs, four inches in length. The beast must have weighed four times that of a man.

Above them, a monkey watched curiously, it's mouth in an 'O' shape.

[Assistant]
Lachlan had dared to take a glance at the map, but had handed it over the next person that had happened to be in line, Jacqueline, not much afterwards for he couldn't really read what was written on it, either. Judging one's position merely based on the shape of things drawn onto a map felt pretty pointless if one did not have at least as much as a little hint.

Now the Caelic wished he'd still have that sort of humble problems... Simply for they felt so much more relaxed than being concerned about one's very life. That beast's fangs could probably pierce through any of their heart's with ease, it only was a matter of the angle of attack. His eyes slowly wandered towards his companions, then towards the tree with the monkey on it.

Whether he would be able to climb it ? He considered himself to be a fit man despite his superficial looks maybe. But what if the predator in front of them could so, too ? On the other hand it was probably unwise to question the wisdom of monkeys who apparently felt rather safe high up in the trees, greedily watching the scenery unfolding far below. Lachlan ultimately dropped the idea. None of them would make it up fast enough anyway should the jaguar feel provoked... or just far too hungry.

Lachlan's lower jaw slowly dropped like the ramp of a large cargo vessel, but the verbal payload left the others waiting for it, and when it finally came, it was only with a very low tone, almost whispered tone to it: "No rush! I'll go first, slowly."

The Caelic man scanned the ground in front and to the right of him, then proceeded along a path that guided him forwards and sideways to the right. It was almost a circle with the obvious aim not to close in onto the animal while still making some sort of progress. His eyes kept switching back and forth between the predator and the area in front of him so he could try to dodge any broken branches his not so subtle weight might crack.

Hopefully none of the others would decide to attack the beast without provocation, but he honestly wasn't so sure whether or not the sweltering heat might already have claimed some of his companions' sanity. Going in with just one or two of them actually having weapons would just be doomed from the start!


[System]
Age: 23

Race: Human revenant

Appearance:

Agmundr is a large-sized and very bulked-up man with a long red mane of hair. For being a revenant, he's in pretty good shape: A medic won't require more than one quick and educated look to discover clear signs of death, but there's nothing an average person would instinctively find disgusting about him. There's a glow apparently coming from inside his eyes, but it can only be seen when it's dark.

Common skills: Agmundr died as a poor man, at a young age and a long time ago. He can't read or write since these arts were restricted to the more wealthy people even in his days. He's fairly adept in pickpocketing and stealing (yet no lockpicking, if he had to get through a door he waited for the right moment and then brute-forced it).

Fighting skills: The military had a close look at him and decided that for someone with no precursory experience with weapons, yet a very respectable amount of strength and corresponding body weight, something like a sword would do no good. He recieved training in using a spiked mace - a cheaper and less delicate weapon - in combination with a round shield and simple armor not prone to hinder movement in an unexpected way. Unfortunately, his physique doesn't allow for a horse carrying more than just himself without being considerably overburdened by the weight.

Magical skills: In pure theory there is a lot of magic in him, but comparable to the way an ordinary human being can't ask the own brain to unroll any of those automatic algorithms it uses for thinking, Agmundr is not capable of willingly invoking any of his inherent magic in order to achieve any additional effect. One of the 'passive' effects of his inherent magic is a slow but steady self-regeneration that is a bit faster than the healing capability of a living body and that also prevents the onset of decay. On the other hand his body is just plain dead in the biological sense, so he can't expect conventional healing magic to be much of an alleviation...

Languages: He has a bit of a trouble in adapting to the recent Imperial language, but his familiarity with the old ways might help him just as well when it comes to learn a new language that actually is a derivative of what he knows.

Personality: He was shady in his days. One should definitely not leave one's money unattended if he's nearby and doesn't know you. Stealing definitely did help him, but that was because he didn't have much support from his parents that already died when he was a small child. The question is if he will lose this habit if he's embedded into a more stable social structure for a prolonged time or not. Aside from that he does have a slight lack of self-confidence. What he definitely does appreciate are good friends - he didn't have many of them in his days either.

Bio: His (so to speak) first life ended several hundred years ago at an age of 21. At no point in his former existence he was close to being a distinguished person, so probably the only thing you can find are entries of birth and death in the chronicles - given they have survived that long. There is a number of persons who have doubts concerning his claims about who he is. The grave he had been buried in had been fitted with a very cheap gravestone: There was nothing intelligible left of it when he came back to 'life' and left the site, so there's hardly anything left to clearly identify him.

Equipment: Morning star (one-handed), robust round shield, heavy scale armour covering his body, a spangenhelm. For satisfying the needs not associated with combat he has got a backpack filled with brawn, a few bandages (mechanical fixation does help even him), a set of simple civilian clothing, small knife.

Why did he join ?: A whole new continent is an opportunity only few people can experience in their lives. It would be a waste to miss that. Perhaps there will be something valuable to discover or a nice strip of land to settle down ? Since the military currently is the only organization having made landfall it's quite obvious that there will be trouble, but it's worth it. And he hasn't got much to loose on the old one anyway.

[User]
"Iolaire. My name is Iolaire" she almost said, but decided to hold her tounge. He had given her medicine after all. She swallowed it quickly and almost retched on the spot, it tasted so bad. Then she followed the rest of the crew to the keep. It struck her then that she didn't know who to report to other than the commander. Frankly, she was at a complete loss at what she was supposed to do here apart from the general mission. The big man with the funny accent, Agmundr, seemed to know what he was about, though. She decided to stick with him until she got a clearer picture of what was going on. She approached him while he was speaking with a smith.

"Hey" she said, "I was thinking about getting something to eat. Care to join me?"

[Assistant] The revenant laughed again. "I'm not that good at lifting entire walls. However quite a few people claim that I am a wall myself. And sorry for expressing my self so vaguely: I meant that I'm here to help whoever needs me." Then he was interrupted and turned his head. "Oh, hello... Iolaire ?" He really hoped that his memory was correct. "Ah well... I'd like to. Zane ? You know this place better than me. Is there a place where we can get something edible between our teeth ? And ideally a lot of it." In fact, Agmundr was gambling on him simply joining them, but perhaps he was too busy...

[User]
Despite his initial desire to take in the splendor that was the new continent, the hunter known as Jacque had found himself in bit of a predicament: While he'd managed to take the voyage to handle the ride to the new continent with little problem save for the slight headache that came only when one unaccustomed to constant exposure to sea air breathed to much of it for too long, his body had started to adapt to the subtle swaying motions of the ship as it had sailed. The result of this was that he was almost forced to take a knee nearly three steps into solid earth to properly, no pun intended, ground himself, lest he fall flat on his ass. After rooting himself in place in a spot that he hoped wouldn't put him in the path of someone that happened to be bust, Jacque took the time he was spending getting used to stationary footing again to also survey the area and people around him.

Those that had arrived before the latest batch of colonizers looked to be a combination of fatigued, irritable, and hungry, completely understandable considering what the Lord had said regarding food. Jacque couldn't help but smile just a tad, after all, a lack of food meant that not only would he potentially be able to hunt to his heart's content, but in doing so he'd be earning his place among the others that would call Fort Narselis home. There were many things to be done before that however: First and foremost he had to properly introduce himself to some of the others if he was to live in close proximity to them, following that he would have to find a place to unload his supplies, then after that he would have to ask around to see if there was work to be done within the fort, as well as ask Lord Justed permission to join a scouting party to see if he could find a game trail or two that hadn't been cleared of fauna by all of the recent activity.

The huntsman started to feel a touch overwhelmed as he realized the work that would lie ahead of him before he could actually begin to enjoy himself. His concerns were pushed to the wayside however as he felt a familiar tugging sensation along the back of his cloak. Shortly after the sensation began, a narrow, scaly head peeked over his shoulder, and from it's mouth came a forked tongue. "We'll have to put in a bit of work for me to convince people that you're here for pest control instead of being a potential stew ingredient too, won't we Alu?" Jacque said with a hint of mirth. The monitor lizard gave Jacque a quick glance- more so out of recognition of the sound the huntsman had made than out of understanding, before it continued to look around with mounting curiosity.

Once he was finally certain that his legs wouldn't betray him, Jacque started moving towards a small cluster of people that he'd seen get off the boat before him. He put on a welcoming, if not somewhat reserved smile as he caught the tail end of the conversation, specifically the bit where the large man mentioned food, "If what Lord Justed said really is as bad as he made it seem, then you might have your work cut out for you looking for a meal.". Jacque came to a stop from the group about a yard and a half away and gave a soft nod, "Sorry to intrude in your conversation like that, didn't really know how else to go about introducing myself just now. I'm Jacque.".

[Assistant]
Esther was no exception from the norm, one of the many (if not all) dazed and curious soldiers to land on the New World. Thanks to the three months' trip, Esther found his estoc to be a surprisingly effective rest for his chin, standing or not.

Still, he had a pang of pity for less fortunate travelers. The particularly heavier passengers (in terms of the circumferences of their bellies) had already mixed the scents of their rapidly-scarfed rations with the salty waters; fortunate the latter was much stronger than butyric acid. Whatever still registered into his nostrils was enough cause for pangs of self-pity, too.

"Esther," he chimed in, seemingly as though he had came out of nowhere. "Esther Dietrich. Now, I believe there is food to be had...that a-ways, no?"

Something was making Esther a bit uncomfortable. His steps were lighter than usual, even with all his equipment on, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. It's like his back had no burden to bear, but he was sure he was supposed to be lugging something around...

And there was movement in the treeline. Enemy?

No, just a guard patrolling. That checked one possible job off the list; unwieldy as he felt, Esther had a fort to orient himself with, and so he panned his eyes over the rest of his group.

At least, it would seem. He was trying to pan a view of the entire fort from where he stood, but with an especially massive revenant in the way...

[User]
Zane stood looking at all the new faces surrounding him, fairly confused at his new-found popularity. One man had seemed to simply appeared next to Agmundr, introducing himself as though it was nothing out of the ordinary. A short and lean elvish woman had begun speaking to Agmundr and a rugged looking man named Jacque had also come before him. 'Do not panic. Do not panic.' Zane cleared his throat with a brief excuse, climbing atop a nearby crate, taking out two of his heavier blacksmithing tools, banging them together with several powerful, precise hits in order to gain the attention of everyone around. "Ahem okay um soldiers here is what we are going to do! Zane attempted to straighten his apron. "I know you are all tired and hungry so I am going to go briefly over what jobs are available around camp and then you can all get some food and set up your bunks before reporting to your individual supervisors! First and foremost, what we need are hunters and fisherman who can help provide the camp with food. Those who are skilled in this area please go to the warehouse for a briefing from your superior." Zane looking up at the sky thinking for a brief moment, before glancing back down at the gathered recruits. "This is obviously an unsustainable action and we will probably starve to death soon, unless someone amongst you knows anything of farming or a useful shamanic magic? If you do please report to the command post outside of Lord Justed's home." Zane coughed slightly, entirely unused to giving orders or being the center of attention.

"That being said there are a number of other positions that we always need help fulfilling. The construction team is tasked with both gathering building materials and strengthening the fort walls. As there seems to be a siege of undead at our door soon, it is extremely important that the construction staff have as much help as possible. You can find the construction supervisor next to the ore storage building by the large loads of timber." Zane gestured at each building as best he could. 'Perhaps next time I should bring along some sort of display or stand?' Zane continued, "Those of you with a knowledge of healing or herbs should report to the apothecary for assignment and anyone with suitable abilities in magic should report to the Enchanting and Magical Research building right above the ore storage for supplementary duties. That should be most of the available positions, if any of you have further questions you can ask me during mealtime which is right now. The mess hall is this way." With that duty done, Zane jumped off the crate and began to lead the hungry crowd.

[Assistant] "Seems like food will have to wait then." Iolaire mumbled to herself. She didn't know mych about farming, but she was a seasoned hunter and knew some schamanistic magic, so she assumed she would have to feed herself if she wanted to eat. Herself, and the rest of the fort. She turned around and started walking towards the Lords home. "I'll go and report to the command post." she called out to the others, "See what I can do about the situation."