[System]
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Human

Physical Description:
Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat.

Talents:
Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying.

Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task.

Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular.

History:
Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late.

Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world.

On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold.

Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him.

When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something.

Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck.
Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward.

Possessions:
Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge.

Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down).

Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool.

A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife.

Yes, and:
Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do.

[User]
It didn't take long for those inside to notice their arrival. It made Autumn curious as to which one caught them first. The door hadn't even opened before a voice echoed out. So they had a spirit among them it seemed. The snide comment about not buying anything was only moderately amusing to her, children. "Judging by the display up top I would say that you could very much use my services. I do not tolerate such carelessness. Had I gotten to you sooner you would not have been caught off guard by simple thralls." Her usual pleasantries died away when it came to business. But before anything else could be said Parael had opened the door and stuck his head out.

The Celestial's face had seen better days. Given their previous encounter it no doubt caused him more pain to have it damaged than any actual physical displeasure. He was an eccentric and vain beyond any other she had the misfortune to encounter with exception of actual gods. Behind which were the rest of the misfits. Unsurprisingly everyone inside was antsy. Was bringing along Gray a mistake? Perhaps. But it would look rather out of place for her to just show up alone given the circumstances New Camden was in. Fortunately she didn't really worry about her associate being too brash just yet. This was her territory and that meant she was in charge.

A question was raised about if she was who she appeared to be. The burden of proof rested between her and Parael, referencing the time she had been asked to haul him out of jail. To say it wasn't something she remembered would be a lie. It was one of the few case works that she dealt with herself while "working her way up the ladder." A formality simply to keep up appearances. Normally she would have blow off such a question but given that everyone was poised to attack she sighed and rolled her eyed toward the ceiling. "You had a matching ruby red velvet designer outfit. The jacket barely fit you and looked like it was trying to jump off your body. Small yellow flowers were embroidered all around it and a large red flower of the same material was sewn on your left shoulder. The cuffs were Faux Fur, same ruby color, which made you look even more ridiculous in you cell. I believe you said it was a Renato Balestra original and the only of its kind. As I recall the police report read 'Disturbing the Peace.' The owner though said that you were drawing clientele away and had a meltdown when a red wine had been spilled on you." Pointing toward her foot she made one last note. "You made it expressly clear to point out the dime sized stain on the hem of your pants to me many, many times."

Despite the mounting hostilities she kept a cool demeanor and made very little effort to hide her confidence. Either she worked extremely well under pressure or felt no need to be intimidated by them. Leaning to one side she smiled to one in the background. "Oh and Karram. You're lucky that you don't still work for me. Fraternizing with former clients is strictly against 'company' policy." Of course only the one that the comment was directed toward would understand. As part of the agreement with the courts the employees were to stay well away from those they represented afterward. Terrible, mysterious things would happen to those that didn't follow that rule.

[Assistant]
Rikive glanced over at Tony when he growled his warning about the presence of silver and a 'Hunter'. She couldn't see the man he spoke of from where she was in the room, but the lycanthropes were infamous for there sense of smell. While silver wasn't a threat to her, it was made obvious earlier that any small bit of metal slicing through the air at highspeeds was enough to hurt her. She also never had the displeasure of meeting a Hunter, but she had heard enough horror stories from other's to feel suitably wary. Even if they were normal mortals. "I want to know how they found us." She muttered.

As Parael posed his question and the woman responded Rikive pressed her lips into a thin line. The muscles in her jaw ticking for a few moments before she lost her inner battle. She started laughing. A full belly laugh at that, her stomach muscles were starting to hurt as the light sound poured from her lips. She knew this was an extremely inappropriate time to be laughing. The very disorganized group was on the run and hiding from the demonic ancient taking control of the city. Their base was already possibly compromised depending on how in the Nine Worlds the two people outside found them...But she couldn't help it.

In her mind she could very easily picture Parael, sitting in a small jail cell either crying or pouting because of the stain on his clothes. And that would be the only reason he would be upset, he wouldn't have given a damn about being arrested. Just that his coat had a small spot of wine on it.

And it was red wine, on a red coat!

Yes, it certainly sounded like this woman had met Parael.

Reigning in her laughter she tried to grow serious once again. She could tease him about it later. And she very well intended too after the grief he gave her for being arrested herself.

[User]
Parry stood at the ready, recounting the experience as best he could. To be truthful, he only remembered waking up in the holding cell, sloshed out of his mind, with Autumn on hand to bail him out courtesy of de Lacy himself. And he did have a face ravaged by tears over the outfit that had been ruined in whatever kerfuffle he'd been involved in. That one-of-a-kind suit had been tossed when the dry cleaner had pronounced it dead on arrival.

"Hey Autumn! How's the practice?" Parry bubbled, opening the door wider for her. "Guys, this is Autumn. She bailed me out of jail once in New York City. A lovely gem of a lawyer. And... oooooooh, who's the stud muffin you brought with you, hm?"

[Assistant]
Not a moment passed between Beth uttering her greeting and the woman opposite her responding before the door opened by just a few inches and Parael's face poked out, closely followed by Flint's. No doubt he still had the gun in his hand behind the door. Beth threw up her hands and rolled her eyes. Really, did these people have no tact? No matter, should the mortal bodyguard attempt to get by, she would turn tangible again.

She folded her arms and watched the exchange, not for a second appreciating this woman's authoritative tone. No one ruled the roost here. Not any more. She respected de Lacy's authority because the system, as unstable as it was sometimes, worked for the most part. He kept supernaturals in check and gave them somewhere to go, so long as they didn't cross him. For Beth, he'd given her a future beyond death. What had Autumn done for them? And her wording -- tolerate, carelessness? She must have wanted to piss everyone off.

At least her story about meeting Parry was entertaining.

Staring through narrowed eyes at the woman, Beth waited for Parael to confirm her story. Once he did, however, a laugh broke through the small gap in the door. A rich and jolly laugh that, if she had a body, might make her skin tingle with excitement. Never before had she heard it, but she attributed it to Rikive nonetheless. Though Beth did her best not to smile, the corners of her ghostly mouth twitched upwards. She tried countering it with a scowl.

The moment Parael opened the door, the humour fell flat. "What is it you think you can do?" she asked Autumn, ignoring the mortal and Parry's question regarding him. "Unless you know exactly how to kill the mummy, you're on the same level as we are."


[System]
Age: 21

Race: Human

Sex: Female

Appearance: Brandy has lightly tanned skin, dark brown hair just below her shoulders. She is about 5'5" tall, slender build, green eyes and a scar above her left eye. She is book smart, but lacks the necessary survival skills to travel the Wasteland on her own. Even though she is good at constructing and creating things, she's accident prone.

Skills: Moonshiner and a handywoman/carpenter

Personality: Brandy is friendly, and kind. She tends to blab about the things that she has read in her pre-war books. She is a big dreamer, fueled by the books she reads. She has been relatively coddled, therefore leaving her naive to many things, and also because she longs to see the new world to resemble what she has seen in books and other prewar literature so she overlooks many negative things if the wasteland.

Weapons & armor/clothing:  .22 pistol, 12 gauge pump shotgun. No armor, Brandy wears summer dresses or tan work boots, khaki shorts, pants and various tops and a dirty red baseball cap. She wears black framed reading glasses the majority of the time, though she is only slightly farsighted.

Occupation: Brandy has a small copper still that she uses to brew her Papa's Potion moonshine. She had a toolbelt filled with various tools for handy work.

Faction: None, but she has done odd jobs for the Minutemen and their communities in order to get by.

Backstory: Brandy and her brother Ricky were raised by their grandparents, Bob and Cathy, in northern Michigan.

Brandy and Ricky grew up in the family business of distilling their own alcohol, better known as Papa's Potion. Cathy taught Brandy from mostly pre-war books, as she was the homemaker and didn't venture out to much. During the warmer months, Brandy enjoyed working with her Papa repairing and or building new structures around the settlement and surrounding areas.

When Brandy turned 18, her inquisitive nature had her yearning to explore the Wasteland. She had never been far from home at all. Ricky, now 21, had traveled with his buddies and the stories they told only made Brandy long to experience it even more for herself.

At 19 Brandy's grandfather passed away, and her grandmother Cathy told her to follow her heart. Cathy convinced Ricky to let Brandy tag along on their next expedition. Reluctantly, Ricky said he would take her.

When she was 20 years old, it was Brandy's job to set up camp and prepare meals. Other than traveling during the day, Ricky wouldn't let her do much else. He told Brandy when they started getting closer to D.C. That he would let her scavenge with them.

Her lack of knowledge and clumsiness drove Ricky and his friends crazy. One day they tried to teach her to shoot a .22 pistol. Brandy was so jittery wanting to impress him that she accidentally squeezed off a round grazing his leg. Ricky automatically reacted by swinging a tire iron at her. It nailed on the left side of her forehead leaving a large gash and rendered her unconscious. Ever since that day the guys wouldn't let her touch a loaded gun.

Stuck with setting up camp, and bored out of her mind, Brandy would drink the whiskey they had made. Only wrecking her relationship with her brother even more. Eventually Ricky left Brandy in the Boston Commonwealth to fend for herself. She wandered into The Sanctuary and helped the Minutemen fix up the settlement. She was told of an up and coming settlement, Salem, and a couple of the Minutemen traveled with her to Salem so she could rebuild her life, and the new settlement.

[User]
Rook, Rooks Wall/Diner Ramp

"Go ahead. Rook understands that. Rook knows some times that long day makes people smell funny. Change as you need, but don't change into a ghoul, or you lose your hair." He laughed, trying to make a joke as she smelled her armpit. "Rook will wait."
When she sprinted off, Rook walked to his shack rather quickly, stripping out of his armor so he was in his normal pants again. He didn't want to scare anyone into thinking he was going to hurt them by wearing his armor. That was the last thing he wanted to do. In truth, he worried that someone might think it anyways because he was a Super Mutant after all, his... Kind, weren't exactly known for being kindhearted or pleasant.

Rook returned to his spot where he had been when she left only a few moments before Brandy returned with purse, yellow dress, and a smile. Rook grinned as best as he could at her and walked with her to the Diner. He could hear people inside talking, seeming to be full of life and happiness. It was a good thing, and when Brandy took his hand to lead him in, he accepted... At least to the door...

He was too big to fit through the door as she did. He laughed once, set his white flag inside of the door, hunched down and shifted through the door. Even in this place, he knew he had only so much room to move around. His eyes would scan the room for a moment, and he would lift his flag.

"Rook is here to buy meat. Does Cooker Man have radstag? Or maybe man has found something better? Bhamin meats?" He grinned a bit wider. "Rook has caps and small things to trade, if Cooker Man is open to that as well. Rook is hungry, and building wall takes so much energy."

Part of him hoped no one would pull a gun on him. He knew people were trigger happy with most mutants, he only hoped that he was not going to have to nurse many wounds this time.

Rook has various scars and healed wounds upon his body. There is a scar on the back of his head, seeming like a laser or energy weapon fired at very close range in a manner of execution. On his right shoulder there is the healed scar from some kind of slashing weapon. His right and left arms also show signs of slashing wounds in the past as well.

On his exposed back, there appears to be long claw marks, faded from time, but the nature of them would suggest a Yao Guai attack. On his chest he does have small scars from bullets, and a few of them even show signs of surgery upon them. The one that does stick out the most however, is a scar upon his neck, where it looked like someone had, unsuccessfully, attempted to slit his throat, but didn't get deep enough.

[Assistant]
FRIEDA RICHTER - still Salem

Frieda had to all but dive into a shadow between some buildings when the young woman had charged down the lane and directly towards Rook. She squinted and could hardly believe her ears -- the young woman was, in fact, talking to the super mutant. Engaging him in a conversation as though he were like any other dirty tribal wastelander.

She clamped her eyes shut and gave her head a small shake. Don't ever let anyone hear you say that. You need these...people...if you have any hope of finding Brian, dead, or alive. Frieda took a breath. When she opened her eyes, the woman was gone, but Rook seemed to be waiting for her.

Instinctively, she searched her pockets for a cigarette and some matches, immediately remembering several hours of angst. "Ugh." She turned her attention back to the road. The young woman returned having changed clothes and toting --

...Frieda nearly rubbed her eyes. Her keen pilot's vision didn't lie: the woman was carrying cartons of cigarettes.

Time to make a new friend.

Be cool, Richter, just keep it cool.

Frieda smoothed a hand over her blonde bangs and stepped out from where she had stashed herself, only to see the two begin to walk away from her and directly towards the diner. She sighed, cursing her terrible timing, and simply followed.

The diner already had several people in it that Frieda hadn't yet encountered in town, plus Barney, and that creep Steve. She hung back in the doorway, behind Rook and the young woman. She glanced between all the faces gathered there, who had turned their attention to Rook. Her eyes rested just a little longer on the man at the bar with a slice of pie. There was something distinct, almost familiar about him, though she didn't flat out recognize him. His mannerisms were fluid, rather than edged and deliberate, causing Frieda to suspect he wasn't from some other unit of Enclave. Vault Dweller, perhaps?

Her thoughts were snapped back to the immediate company in front of her, and she realized she'd been staring. She hoped no one had noticed. "Rook is here to buy meat. Does Cooker Man have radstag? Or maybe man has found something better? Bhamin meats?" He paused. "Rook has caps and small things to trade, if Cooker Man is open to that as well. Rook is hungry, and building wall takes so much energy."

It seemed most of the diner was fixated on the greenskin. Frieda leaned forward and gently tapped the young woman on the arm. "Psst. Hey." She motioned towards the cigarettes. "Are you selling those? I'll give you five caps for a pack."

[User]
Lorelei Jones - Ace's Diner

"As long as you can shoot a gun, that old codger will take on anyone."

Lorelei shrugged. "I can...I can shoot, all right." She ran her fingers through her hair and took a deep breath. "I suppose I should take him up on his offer, then." She gazed at the pie that Ace had set out. "If mutfruit is what made that drink so magical, then I must have more. How much for a slice?"

"Ace, Rook is coming for dinner, do you have enough food for him? I just wanted to let you know, I'm going to go and wait for him to get here. OH, and I have a .22 pistol and aren't afraid to use it if anybody tries to hurt him. You need to look into his eyes, then you will see he really is friendly."

Rook is coming?!

"Rook is here to buy meat. Does Cooker Man have radstag? Or maybe man has found something better? Brahmin meats? Rook has caps and small things to trade, if Cooker Man is open to that as well. Rook is hungry, and building wall takes so much energy."

Lorelei swung around on her barstool. Her first friend in Salem had made it. "Rook!" Lorelei grinned from ear-to-ear and walked over to the large green man who had entered the building. "I see you've made a few friends! I told you the folks in this town would come around." She looked over at Ace and then back to rook. "I recommended that we craft you a flower-crown to ensure that you mean no harm." "How's the wall coming along?" She offered a gracious nod to Brandy, the woman seemingly accompanying Rook to the diner. "I am glad that you saw him for the big friendly giant that he is."

[Assistant]
Brandy Brooks – Ace's Diner

Much to her joy, Rook took her hand and allowed her to lead them to the diner where there seemed to be a buzz of activity inside. Brandy's face was glowing; she wore a bright smile like a proud toddler showing their parent something they had accomplished. Brandy turned around when Rook let go of her hand, she cocked her head in wonder until Rook hunched down to go through the doorway, she tapped her forehead with a carton of cigarettes, "DUH," she giggled. Rook began waving his white flag upon entering Ace's Diner; Brandy held her hands out in front of her, "HE WILL NOT HURT YOU, DON'T FREAK OUT."

"Rook is here to buy meat. Does Cooker Man have radstag? Or maybe man has found something better? Brahmin meats?" Rook grinned a bit wider. "Rook has caps and small things to trade, if Cooker Man is open to that as well. Rook is hungry, and building wall takes so much energy."

"See, I told y'all so," Brandy triumphantly folded her arms in front of her, even with the cartons of cigarettes, "He IS friendly," she wore a shit eating grin. Taking her attention away from her personal victory, someone tapped Brandy's shoulder.

"Psst. Hey." Said a tall blonde haired woman motioned towards the cigarettes. "Are you selling those? I'll give you five caps for a pack."

Brandy spun on her heal, "SURRREEEE AM," Brandy juggled the cartons to offer her hand, dropping one on the floor it broke open spilling the ten packs of cigarettes, "Just a sec please." She managed to gather up the dropped packs and clumsily held them in her left arm and extended her right, "You're new in town, I'm Brandy Brooks, it's a pleasure to meet you." After the tall woman shook her hand, Brandy leaned her left shoulder towards her, "Take one, you can have it as a welcoming gift. I'd like to personally welcome you to Salem. A growing community of likeminded people looking to better the world we live in," she smiled brightly, using her free hand to push her glasses up.

"Rook!" A woman with dark brown hair called out grinning from ear-to-ear and walking over to Rook. "I see you've made a few friends! I told you the folks in this town would come around." The woman looked over at Ace and then back to Rook. "I recommended that we craft you a flower-crown to ensure that you mean no harm. How's the wall coming along?" The woman offered a gracious nod to Brandy, "I am glad that you saw him for the big friendly giant that he is."

Brandy got a little jealous, putting her arm around Rook, at least the best she could, "Yes, he is a nice person, you can see it in his eyes," she leaned and sat the cigarettes she had brought on the bar top, "Ace, I hope these will buy Rook and I dinner, if not I can do some work around the diner," she blushed a bit, "I spent all of my caps on building supplies at The Sanctuary…sorry." She took a breath and looked the woman up and down noticing that she was roughly the same height but slightly skinnier than she was, "I don't think he needs a flower-crown," Brandy looked up at Rook, "He moved things today that we couldn't think of moving. I think he just needs OUR," Brandy waved her hand around the diner, "Protection."

Brandy let her eyes wander around the diner before focusing back on the similarly sized woman, "I'm Brandy Brooks, it is a pleasure to meet you…" she extended her hand.


[System]
Age: 27
Gender: Male

Personality: Dex. is a cocky and headstrong young man, who believes he can take on the world and whatever armor it is wearing. He often makes brash decisions and often comes out holding the short straw, but he bounces back just as fast and might just succeed the next time. He takes offense quickly and is often ready with a comeback, having studied you prior to a conversation, he may not always succeed but bless the boy, he plans. Though he is questionable in terms of how he perceives himself and others, he understand that when it comes down to business, he can't slip up, saving mistakes for his personal endeavors and not when it comes to money. During jobs, he is often serious and highly irritable, wanting everything to go exactly as planned under threat of storming off and brooding. He is a gambling man, often taking risks by accepting impossible jobs and betting on impossible odds because he "had a feeling" and often against people who are much more powerful than himself. Though he would look like the person who would disrespect you in an instant, he has decent manners to those he feels deserving of them but not for those he has issues with.

Home Faction: Euro-East
Sponsored Faction: Freeman, earns his own keep (works for a living).

Skills: Dex, lacking any strong education, is by social terms a yokel. However as he always says, "a diploma doesn't make a person. Dex is weak when it comes to reading but mathematically, his mental arithmetic is superb, though only when it comes to practical things, like whole numbers and decimals. He other then his sound maths, can tell you the name, worth and use of an object just by glancing at it, he wouldn't be a good scavenger if he didn't. He is also good with machines, may they be small and finicky or big engine blocks and rocket motors, he is a male Tinkerbell, just a bit more inappropriate though.

Purpose: Shrewd business, bad-tempered gunslinger and mechanic extraordinaire.
Strengths:
-Repairing anything that is a machine or can be fixed with machines.
-Fast and accurate shot with a handgun.
-Good at bartering as he knows the value of things. (a screw? one credit. a watch? 1000 credits. A good time? priceless.)
-Muhammed Ali… But white, a few run-ins at the bar have honed his skills at punching and kicking things and or hitting things with obscure objects.

Weaknesses:
-Fond of drinking, often gets drunk and does something stupid.
-Isn't fond of any large guns, Mostly because he is small framed and because they take up space that could be occupied by treasure.
-Ill-Tempered, prone to outbursts if not handled with caution.
-Gambling Man, when it comes to a good wager, it is all or nothing and it often ends up with a scuffle and a few loose teeth.

Weapons:
-.49 Kolt Revolver, with a blued barrel and cherry grips.
-A large bowie knife he wears at his hip when things get uncles and personal, it is dull grey with a 3D printed stag antler as a grip.
-His only "Big Gun", a 10 gauge lever action shotgun with synthetic trimmings replacing the wood. He leaves it in his ride most of the times, only taking it out when needed.

Special Equipment:
-Revolver Auto Loader, a device that is strapped to his wrist and linked to the revolver electronically, when the revolver cylinder is open and the shells are slid out, a small arm comes out and loads in 6 new rounds instantly.
-SAT/RAD/COMM Jammer, a device that gives him and his vehicle total electronic invisibility if it is in range of any scanner.
-Satchel Charges, he keeps half a dozen in the boot of his vehicle incase he needs to blow through a wall, collapse a cave or start an ambush.
-Finally and probably most importantly, a small hydroponics bay in his vehicle that he grows dwarf tobacco in which he rolls into cigarettes.

Armor/Wear: As seen in the picture but with a leather aviator jacket that has those cool fur trims. underneath it he wears a white T-Shirt and a ballistic vest, capable of taking a few rounds but won't help against energy weapons, explosives or fire.

Vehicles:
The love of his life, he had put it together himself, salvaging pieces from wrecks and building it in the style of holovideos from the 1950s, though it may look clunky and slow, he can assure you its the fastest thing in the area, clocking a smooth 200 miles an hour. On the back he has a set of dust diverters, to send the dust cloud behind him back into the floor, to avoid giving away it's position, when parked he turns on it's invisibility function and only shimmers occasionally

Biography: He was born to a Belarussian mother and a Canadian father and raised on a rocky, dusty outpost in the thick of Saturn's belt. On a place like that, a solid education was hard to come by, the people being too busy repairing things or prepping ships to actually teach, so he was neglected in that way but the community more then payed their dues. They taught him instead to be practical, stripping away things that would have been useless to them and teaching him how to do fast maths and fix anything that was busted, along with teaching him the science behind what he did and basic literacy skills in a few languages, armed with these basic skills, he scraped a C in the government tests.But because of is skills with fixing and building things, he was head engineer by the time he was 20 and had attracted a lot of attention to the outpost from the larger cities in the belt. When the wormhole had been discovered, he sent out a volunteers notice to the government but they denied him, wanting brighter people to be the first to go. So he waited when the exploration phase had finished and civilians were allowed to go through, he jumper at the opportunity. With his parents blessings and his slim savings, he managed to get a cramped spot on a transport and headed to the new system. Once there, he made profitable business by salvaging and looting drop pods before officials could come and collect their contents, he had made a name for himself and had a minor bounty on his head. This had attracted a lot of good and bad news to him, he joined a gang, they looted drop pods together but soon they stabbed him in the back, literally trying to kill him in the middle of the night because he would always find the little pieces that were worth more then what ever anyone else could scavenge. From then on, he wouldn't tolerate groups who thought they could do what ever they wanted, he went back and had his revenge and in turn they put a 50,000 Credit bounty on his head, but he wouldn't let anyone have his head… Other than the girls at the Whorehouses...

Other: He frequently calls home, back to his friends and patents. As exciting adventuring is, he needs some time with loved ones as well.

[User]
"Wonderful," he said simply, putting on the co-pilot's headset. Dex's hands worked skillfully at the ships controls, the tiny font of the labels clear to his eyes that were use to small writing by now, as Ronica's labels were just as hard to read. After a few moments of what seemed to be absent minding flicking and clicking, a small projection of the ship appeared infont of the pair, turning ever so slowly and displaying information. He leaned back into the chair and put one leg over the other and crossed his arms as he scanned the diagram, he tutted and shook his head.

"The pneumatic pressure in the left-rear landing leg is a bit low, you should ask to get that checked before we take off," he fell silent again and scrutinized the image throw seemingly nonchalant eyes, "Reactor coolant levels are also a bit low for my liking but it shouldn't be an issue." Dex leaned his chin into his hand and continued to look at the floating diagram, he turned to the pilot and smiled, "The name's Dex, Slipstream."

[Assistant]
Luna popped open the diagnostics panel and stared at what it showed on its screen.
"Damned software... it's supposed to inform me about any maintenance issues... ugh!" she groaned and shook her head. "Not that important, I have to check it manually for a while, then."
She looked over the results of the diagnosis with a slight frown.
"Yep, you're right. This certainly has to be fixed before take-off." Grumbling she sent a notice to the hangar engineers to fix all the issues immediately.
Finally she turned to face Dex. "Thanks for keeping your eyes open, I guess. I'm Luna. Luna Callahan and I will be your pilot today."
She grinned relieved after her anger about buggy diagnostic software.

[User]
Dex smiled, thinking to himself, 'A bit concerning that our pilot did't do any manual checks.' but he decided to keep that to himself, not wanting to anger the woman who would be his only way off of the rock they were orbiting, so instead he said, "pleasure to be flying Air Callahan," he turned slights to grab his seatbelt and buckle up, tightening the straps to fit him, "I hope you don't mind I ride up here, I'm more use to seeing where I'm going as opposed to being taken to where I'm going."

Dex settled into the seat, and did some checks on his equipment, he did not want to be caught pants down if something where to happen on the ex-planet. He decided to initiate small talk to pass the time, "So, Miss Callahan," he emphasized the word Miss, slowly dragging his eyes along her body, from toes to hair, "Tell me a bit about yourself, for the people watching at home." he head heard that saying when he was young, watching hollow-tapes of old reality shows, when the host would want people to elaborate he'd say it, 'For the people watching at home.'

[Assistant]
Luna shifted around a bit in her seat making herself as comfortable as possible. "I don't mind at all. Just relax and stuff and soak in the beautiful view."
She cracked her knuckles and leaned back.

"Well... I'm not really that exciting. Just a regular Alliance pilot." She shrugged. "Born on the moon... basically been flying since I've been a little girl. My father was a pilot, my mother was a pilot. Piloting lies in my blood, I guess. Right as I graduated from Pilot Academy, I got deployed in the Ceres Buccaneer Crisis. That was something, I guess."

She turned to face Dex. "Have you ever killed somebody? Even if it was 'just' a pirate? I mean, it's probably different if you're directly face to face with the enemy on a ground combat level, but still. I'll never forgot the sight of the pirate fighter going up in flames caused by my guns. It gets easier the second time, but only a bit."
She laughed.
"Sorry, got dark there for a bit. I'm normally pretty chill."

[User]
Jack grunted a short "Welcome 'board, get ready for takeoff" to each of the newcomers as they arrived. He knew more about each and every one of them than they did each other, including medical records and history. While none of the nations were comfortable giving up such records, these were all considered "low risk." In other words, they were sending those who could be glorified, or dispensed, at will. If it went successful, they could say they sent their most recommended- if they were not, they could say that they were simply a first wave of grunts who intentionally volunteered.

It churned his belly, to be honest, but he didn't blame them. He picked out the sniper himself, though that probably actually decreased her chances of getting on the team, whatwith the bickering and pettiness common within the political structure.

Either way, he was the last one standing after the last one arrived. A stern look, felt even through his faceless helmet, gave them enough warning to go ahead and strap in. Accompanied by the pilot's warnings, it was followed automatically or consciously. Either way, no one was arguing.

Satisfied, he stepped fully into the dropship bay, walking fully down it as he triggered an impulse through the implants. The door rose, and began closing; the lights inside went from the basic white/yellow to a red, lights on the wall, replaced others.

So he walked down the rows on both sides of the dropship, already checking to make sure everyone was strapped and locked into the wall. In the case of catastrophic failure, each seat would jet out the side and deploy an environmental shield and a parachute, to provide breathable air and a slow descent. He helped the confused ones' harnesses down, a pair of arms that came from over the shoulder and locked in around their arms, with straps for their legs, chest, and feet. When everyone else was situated, he moved to the front of the spacecraft, resting a hand on the pilot and copilot chairs. He eyed the Slipstream character from within his visor- he had just taken his spot. It wouldn't have bothered him, except the military was pretty much in control of this operation, and he seemed to disregard it.

He walked in as his pilot was talking about killing- something that brought back less than pleasant memories. Through his slightly delayed voice from his helmet, he announced, "Prepare for takeoff, pilot. Command will drop on your go. And by the way- I don't know about Slipstream here, but I've killed dozens. Dark thoughts, neh? I hope you passed your mental examination, since you're piloting this boat."

[Assistant]
Dex was about to answer when the Commander of the mission came and stopped him, cutting in as Dex opened his mouth to speak. Dex listed carefully to the commander and when he sensed that the man was finished he spoke, "Nice to see you with us Commander," he said casually, extending a hand, "It seems that you've read my files, because you know my name before i introduced myself." He did this of course out of curtesy, not wanting to piss this guy off either but he didn't really care for the man's name, he probably wouldn't use it anyway.

He turned back to Callahan, "When exploring space, darkness is something that people come across easily. Yes, I have killed people," He said, resting his hand on the shotgun he propped on a console and running his hand down almost three dozen notches in the synthetic fittings, "Though most of them deserved it, so I feel no remorse." He picked up the lever action shotgun and handed it to the pilot, notches facing her, "But one never forgets." He turned away from her, feeling he made an elaborate enough statement, Instead he concentrated on the dash and watched as the coolest levels rose and the pneumatic pressure increased.

"Clear for take off." he said, watching as they ejected Ronica's capsule down to the planet.


[System]
Age: 137
Gender: Male
Race: Elf

Appearance: Aust stands at 5'7", and bears the fair features and lithe form common to his race. Hard, wiry muscle lies beneath his sun-browned skin, both a product of many years in the harsh desert environment. His hair was once a deep brown, but it has lightened over the years into sandy blonde locks that fall to his shoulder blades. Ageless eyes the color of storm clouds look out from beneath an angular brow. His flesh is unmarred, with the exception of two faint scars that run from the outer corners of his eyes and down his cheeks like tear tracks. Generally, he prefers simple cotton clothing that covers much of his body to protect him from sun, sand, and heat. Even indoors or in more comfortable climes, he has grown used to his attire and rarely changes it. For battle, he dons leather armor before covering it with the outermost layer of his robes.

Brief character concept: Aust is something of an advance scout for his people. Sent away many years ago, he has spent quite a lot of time among the various peoples of Areta. Using magic to disguise himself, he was even able to briefly ingratiate himself among those serving the royal family. For the most part, he has spent his time traveling among the Eretol to learn as much as he can about the land and it's people. Now that the Ytharien have come, he has rejoined them to share his knowledge and lend his blade, bow, and musical talents to their efforts.

History: Nearly fifty years ago, Aust was a shaman and healer of some renown among his people. Growing up with his small family at the edge of society, that is where he remained when they eventually moved on. He made his own way at the edges the elven territories, practicing woodcraft and magic as a means of survival. When he occasionally crossed paths with travelers he treated them with respect and hospitality regardless of their race, as though the tracts of wilderness were his own home and he had invited them. More common were those who sought him out for one form of help or another.

One such visitor, and elven maiden by the name of Mirri, sought him out time and time again. At first, the she-elf engaged his services in an attempt to save her ailing mother. Aust would visit their home nearly every season to do what he could, but was never able to do more than ease the elderly elf's discomfort and shore up her failing health. This lasted several years, and during that time a bond formed between Aust and Mirri. When eventually her mother passed, Mirri gave up her home to travel with Aust.

For nearly twenty years the pair traveled together and were happy. All good things, however, must come to an end. During a particularly harsh storm, Aust and Mirri were separated near the border of elven and human territories. After eschewing food and rest for a full day, the elf eventually located his partner and love. Once the storm had passed, she had approached a group of humans and asked for their help and hospitality. The men had proven to be slavers, and took her captive. Aust spotted his lover among the men from afar, and settled in to wait for an opportune moment to free her.

Late that night, Aust snuck into the slaver camp. In darkness and silence, he slipped into the tent where Mirri was being kept while most of the twenty slavers were gathered around their fire. So focused was he on freeing her that he did not sense it when a guard crept up from behind. They had expected someone to come for the she-elf. The leader of the group was determined to prove to the stubborn elf that they both belonged to him now. Bound in heavy chains, Aust was forced to watch as his lover was passed between men around the fire like no more than a bottle of liqueur. When they were finished Mirri was tossed aside like trash, where she lay completely still in the dirt.

Pushed beyond the point of reason and helpless to do anything else, Aust called to his magic. Something he had once considered unthinkable, he used the forces of life and creation to bring a violent end to the men around him. Twenty lives were snuffed out like so many candles in a strong wind. Still numbed by shock and the adrenaline rush brought on by the situation Aust felt neither grief nor regret, which struck him as extremely wrong. Still not thinking clearly, he etched these things permanently into his flesh. Even if he could not feel them in that moment, he would forever bear the scars both upon his heart and his face.

Disgusted by the fact that he had twisted his magic against its intended purpose, Aust decided for himself to become an exile. He left elven lands behind of his own will, determined to wander further than he ever had before. It was then that he met Lothren and originally joined the Ytharien. He did not remain long, however, volunteering to be dispatched as a scout into Areta.

[User]
Konrad rubbed his thighs vigorously, his muscles protesting loudly. They had ridden for hours on end, in increasingly hostile territory. The last village they visited a ma nspat on the road in front of them. He stroked his mustache.

A decade ago, I would have struck that man for his arrogance against the King's men. He shook his head again, his eyes scanning the horizon. He knew that Alonso had travelled far out this time, farther than he normally went.
Last time we found him, it was mere miles from the capital.. This time, I worry for him. It's too far from easy reach... I won't lose him.
Like the captain, Konrad served Alonso since he came into power. He had served his father, too. Although he missed the late king, Alonso was a good lad. He just needed to grow up and accept his duty to his country.
A few hours later, they found the village. The wreckage. It was sickening and infuriating at the same time.

"Falkenberg, those cattle don't look burned. Find out what killed them."

Konrad snapped to attention, straightening and offering crisp salute. "Aye, sir."
He hopped from his horse, walking over to the dead animals. He bent down, knees clicking. He grimaced, and reached towards the beast, turning the corpse about. Aside from the gnaw marks and the peckings of crows and buzzards, he noticed some deep scores in the bone, one rib cracked lengthwise.

It could have been brigands. They sometimes slaughter for sport.. No. They would've took the meat. These scores here.. And here.. These were bolts, from a crossbow. Hastily applied to the poor animals; they must've suffered..
The other beast had swathes of bones simply.. Broken and missing. The skull had a giant hole on one side, a smaller one opposite of it.
Shit. Blunderbuss? Pistol? Bolts are easy to stop. My shield'll do fine. Bullets? Fuck, I knew I should've brought my lucky pair of trousers.
He saw a glint in the dying light under one of the legs. Pulling it out, he swore. "Fucking bolt. Gerald's probably right. Fucking knife-ears."

He spat, slipping the bolt in his belt. Sloppy killers, whoever they were. Standing up, he heard Gerald's war cry, followed by a muffled thump and some cursing. He jogged to the source of noise.
Way too old, Konrad. Why didn't you open up an inn, like the old man said?
His steps faltered, only for a moment. More rooms for Astrid's lovers. God above, please help me so that I don't murder some poor noble one day.
He drew his flail when he reached the scene, the chain rattling. He snorted as he looked at the grungy man. He raised an eyebrow at Gerald. He grinned.

"Hey, Colossus. You think maybe you should ease up on that fuckin' sword? Looks like he can't tell you shit from how hard you shoved it against him. Any farther, and it'll be in his ass."
His face grew grim again, looking at the ruined husk of a village. "And seems you were right, lad. Fuckin' elves did this, mark my words."

These sods probably died as they lived. In abject squalor and filth.

[Assistant]
When every breath brings pain, one learns to guard ones words.

Kolbe hadn't said much during the journey. He'd spoken cordially but little with his fellow Knights and not at all with the commonfolk, and even now the captain's acerbic order drew only a low rumor of acknowledgement from behind the blank iron helm which hid that terrible, ravaged face.

Linus dismounted and planted the Aretan pennant in the center of the blackened ruin, driving the shaft hard into the dry earth and kicking up a thin cloud of dust. The sapphire-and-gold banner flapped morosely in the hot breeze, specks of soot catching on its surface and marring the royal heraldry. It was eerily quiet.

The perforated helm creaked left and right, taking in the scene. Destruction and chaos. Not a pillage or raid -- they'd stopped just shy of salting the damned earth. This was the burning-brand of fear. No human bodies. Slaves? Or sent fleeing, like the others flooding over the border? Details. Like as not unimportant ones, for now.

What narrowed his mind was the timing.

They were following the King and his new wastrel friends. The King had passed this way. And this was all that was left in his wake. Could be a number of conclusions a man could draw from that. Were they here, when this happened? Had the King of Areta been captured? Or did...

Hnh.

He turned away from the thought, looking back to his fellows. Old Falkenberg and Gerald the Giant, going about their duties and cursing the Elves aloud. With no small reason, for that. The further from the city's walls they'd come, the more ill rumor they'd heard of these savages and the cruel witchcraft they wrought along the river. In the end, the only surprise was they hadn't come across this sooner--

He felt the battle-roar in his bones almost before he heard it. Gerald had found one alive. Konrad was already on his feet and halfway there, ready to aid... or to mitigate whatever damage The Colossus was about to do in his fit of zeal. Kolbe took his time, marching slowly, watching their backs. He didn't know them well, and they like as not didn't well know him. But instinct told him they were good brothers. Brothers he knew he could depend on when the fat started to fry. He'd pay them the same, in blood if need be.

The captain? Could be that was another story. Could be he might not be a man who'd do what needed to be done. Time would tell.

It always did.

[User]
Juna
 Juna, like many of the rest of the traveling mummers, had sat down to enjoy herself. She held her goblet up to her mouth, gulping down a mouthful of mead, and then made an audible sound that showed her enjoyment of it, and how refreshing it seemed to her. The place seemed to be in a good at the moment, and Juna was feeling the same, and reveled in it. Between her and Annara's performances and the play, they had put on a good show today, and now that their work was over for the day the revelries could begin.

Times like these, for what they were worth, were quite enjoyable. You would take a seat, and have a nice drink with some of your fellows, while an entertaining yet absolutely unremarkable conversation would go on.

For now, though, that could wait. Alan had made a comment on how Annara ought to have less frown, more crown, to borrow a certain unnecessary phrase. Annara gave an acerbic reply, which was fitting for her. Juna had her usual mischievous smile the whole time, and she took another sip from her goblet. She didn't butt into their conversation, and let the kids have their fun. Juna instead allowed herself to be surrounded by men, who she might just lead on enough to keep them interested, and to keep them fun, but probably not more.

Of course, the mood couldn't stay flowery forever. At their heart they weren't just traveling entertainers, but a warband. Every one of them knew it, and no matter how much they fretted about the paticulars, they knew it to be true, and they'd accepted it. If they hadn't, they'd have left already. Still, Juna didn't want to see those two, Annara and Alan, with blood on their hands. Herself as a murderer was enough already.
In the background was Lothren being gloomy again. Juna eventually headed on out there, over to him. Her arrogance wasn't so great that she thought she would be able to make him smile and join closer with the others. However, what she did know was that she had known him for a long time, and he wouldn't be rid of her so easily.

"Being broody again?" Juna said as she knelt down beside him. She had a feeling that, even to her, he would be less than welcoming.

[Assistant]
"Just wait until I get my hands on a proper flute," Aust said with a smile in reply to Alan's compliment. While he was familiar with many instruments and had a deep, smooth singing voice, the woodwind was what he preferred. Unfortunately, he had been forced to abandon his silver flute some time ago in a hasty escape from an ambush along his way back to the Ytharien. Since then, he had been unable to find a suitable replacement.

While Annara defended the quality of her performance, Aust simply smiled and went on sharpening the long dagger that he usually wore at the small of his back with the hilt within reach of his right hand. His longbow, already strung, rested against the log he was using as a seat. He had already changed back into his usual clothing and donned his armor and covered it with his cloak. The feathered ends of a handful of arrows were visible over his right shoulder and the strap of the quiver cinched his cloak tight to his upper body.

For his part, Aust thought Annara sung and acted rather well. The dress was small for her after all, not that the roguish swordsman he portrayed onstage would find anything to complain about there. When she showed off her form in the circle of firelight, he was forced to admit to himself that he shared that sentiment on some level. After so much time in Areta he often found himself more comfortable in the company of humans than with his own kind.

When the human woman spilled some of her wine and closed her eyes in prayer, Aust glanced her way and raised an eyebrow. It was a custom he knew of, and mostly he was curious as to why she seemed to prefer not to do it openly. Lost in thought, he only managed to turn his eyes away when she started to open hers. If she did not want others knowing or speaking of it, it was no business of his. Her compliment, combined with his thoughts over the past several moments, brought a mild tint to the elf's usually stoic features. Hoping that the ruddy glow of the fire would hide the color, he finally spoke up about the task ahead of them.

"Let us just hope they have the sense to leave quickly and peaceably. Nobody has to die tonight, but neither should we hesitate to defend ourselves. Remember, a broken rib or slashed arm is likely to get our message across and send any but the bravest running if they confront us." It had taken a little practice, but Aust had become used to fighting non-lethally when the situation demanded it. It was unfortunate and understandable that people would defend their homes, but it did not mean they had to pay for it with their lives.


[System]
Age: 65

Gender: Male

Appearance:  Adolf von Menzel

 When hunting he wears a dirty brown trench-coat, underneath he has all of his tools and weapons strapped to his body in various ways. He wears a flamethrower on his back, two red tanks of propane, connected via hose to the flamethrower, made of metal and with a lighter on the end to ignite the propane. On his belt he wears a hussar's saber, etched with his mother's name.

Creature:Human

Type of Hunter: Vampire Hunter

How long have you been hunting/afflicted: Hunting for 38 years

Background: Egbert's father, Gregory, was an heir to the Pitt Tractor Company fortune, however, he used his money to finance his actual career, vampire hunting. 5 generations of Pitts were vampire hunters, and their fortune only finances this career, however, Egbert was a bastard, his father not even knowing of his existence until he was on his deathbed, Gregory instructed his eldest son, James Pitt, to teach Egbert how to hunt vampires. Egbert was a natural, with several dead vampires to his name. However, James Pitt himself became a vampire after a hunt went wrong, and after Egbert returning from a successful hunt, attempted to kill him, mortally wounding him and leaving him for dead. When doctors found him, they decided that the only was to save Egbert was to give him Lycan blood. Due to the transplant, Egbert made a miraculous recovery, however, he was no longer the jolly man he once was, Egbert was deeply scarred psychologically by the betrayal, devoting his life to the death of James, however, with James in control of the Pitt fortune, Egbert was forced to go underground, after thirty years killing other vampires, Egbert returned to the surface world, more determined than ever to kill James Pitt, and he would go to any end in order to do it.

Reason for Joining: To kill James Pitt.

Arrived: Arrived a day ago, emerging from the sewers.

[User]
The worn hunter felt rather at peace within the candlelit town hall. Now he had two different pieces of paper on his lap, and he repeatedly read each one over. They were both from two different Night Hunter Organizations. One from the North American region, and the other from the Primary Night Hunter's Hall in Europe. William still had a few friends left back in his previous place of work, but his good friends were long gone. He slid the letter from Europe back into his coat, and continued to read over the other. The letter spoke mostly of the activity in Maine, and about the few things the hunter and his group should be on the lookout for. Maine certainly wasn't short of things to do, but William knew he shouldn't stay here for too long.

 William left his seat and approached the podium at the front of the town hall. He left the letter there and paced back to the front door. By the entrance was a slightly rusted and cracked bell. He gave it a good couple of rings, the noise being easily heard throughout the village. With that, he walked back down the aisle and returned to the podium. It was time for the hunt to begin.

[Assistant]
Allowed large, rounded auds to flatten upon skulls surface, blend of fur almost concealing them completely as nasal bridge rippled lifting curtain of lip and baring quick glimpse of hidden ivory daggers. Bright hues watching as what smelt like a human approached, no vocal was made by herself as she quickly glanced about watching others arrange what they needed alongside vanishing within buildings innards. The sound of human treating her as if she was a house pet caused a snarl to emerge as she shook out her scruff and paced around him out of the brush further, her size more visible at this point and quickly separating her from the standard domesticated dog, "Oh boy," was all she could even think at the way the strange person seemed so clueless, "What kind of hunter is he even meant to be?". Thick pelt shuddered over large silhouette as she allowed slither of pale pink flesh to emerge and run down maws length, she would of shifted by now, but she had nothing to put on at this point so she just prayed she wasn't too high of a target by the hunters that seemed to fill this unnatural group.

 Ace perked up as the sound of ringing bells struck her ears, the sound very loud and partially irritating as she huffed hefty breath and replaced her sight upon the closest figure of young human. "Guess I'll just follow him... He doesn't seem so dangerous compared to the rest," she'd allow to pass through her mind. She'd wait for him to move towards where the group was to assemble before trailing after him and keeping a wary distance, she had little to offer to the group at this point, but she was a quick learner in most things and would listen in and follow along until she was at all needed. She just hoped she'd find some form of clothing soon so she could return to a more comfortable size and blend a little better with the crowd rather than sticking out like a sore thumb.

[User]
Rowan Hurst is a strange looking man with jet blood red hair and dark brown eyes. However his right eye is covered with an eye patch and it looks like little black veins connect to it at the edges of the eyepatch. His figure is more or less rather meek compared to many of the warriors coming in. Had he been a vampire or at least someone able to shapeshift into a werewolf his meager fortitude wouldn't be that much of a problem. Alas he is but only human. Humans are the weakest of the species but strangely he never felt any desire to be anything else.

 Getting up slowly out of his bed he looks about the nearly empty room. There is a single twin size bed in a wooden room with nothing on the walls but shreds of old and decayed wallpaper. There is a single tiny dresser on the other side of the vacant room which is still covered in dust from its lack of use. He had already unpacked many of his things into the dresser but all of his 'essentials' were still in his bag. Standing now he makes his way to the bag and opens it with a snap. The black leather bag opens easily and its highly organized inside. He does a quick double count of all of his items, several bottles of holy water, jars of varying substances (most of which look like slightly different colors of dust), a silver amulet with a strange design, chalk and a tiny book far to small to be a book of scripture.

 With a look outside Rowan suddenly realizes what time it is. He must have slept far longer than he had intended. The sun was already on its way down. Reaching into his vest pocket he pulls out an old wind up pocket watch. He flips it open and a small picture of himself with an older priest decorates the other side of the watch. Scowling at the time he quickly closes the bag and walks out of the room. he didn't bother to turn off the light as the light didn't work in that room. It didn't work in any room actually as there had been no power to this building for quite some time. He liked it specifically because it was rather quiet and there was less broken glass than the average abandoned building in this small god-forsaken town. He made a quick mental note to get to work on the electricity problem when he was able to. But today was the day the rest of the people were supposed to arrive.

 Stepping out of the front door he closes it behind him carefully. Turning to look at the setting sun over the ocean port. The salty fresh air filled his lungs and it just took it in for a moment. However he started to shiver slightly as it was getting rather cold and the port wind didn't help matters in the slightest. Though a new face appeared in his line of vision as Roze had made her way in his general direction. Of course he highly doubted that she had done so intentionally and probably was just going to look at the ocean. None the less he felt the need to approach her.

 "Hello there!" Rowan says with a slightly Irish accent. It seems he has mostly lost what was once a stronger accent but you can still hear it faintly. "You one of the new ones to arrive today? My name is Rowan. Pleased to make your acquaintance miss..." he lets his sentence trail to give her an opportunity to introduce herself.

[Assistant]
"Ooh, you're a big girl aren't ya'?" Ryan said now that she had gotten closer. He was suddenly startled by the sound of ringing bells, his attention soon taken off of Acacia and toward town hall. Seems they want everyone to gather up. He turned back to the "dog" he had been previously talking to, Ryan had still not realized his mistake even after she exited the bushes and allowed him to get a better look at her. "Come on, girl. If you've got an owner, I'm sure we'll find them. If not, maybe I can keep ya'," Ryan said cheerfully as he made his way to what he assumed to be the group's improvised headquarters.

Opening the door to let Acacia enter first, always the gentleman that Ryan, the red-haired young man entered afterward and took a seat on one of the benches in the middle of the rows, next to the walkway. First, he took in his surroundings. Besides himself and the lycanthrope-girl beside him, the only person in the town hall was the man that had called them here and had met him at the edge of town. What was his name, again? William, right? Ryan then turned toward Acacia. Seeing such a cute animal, yes he apparently found wolves to be cute, he had to fight the urge to begin petting and scratching behind her ears by sitting on his hands. Even though she had followed him inside, he wasn't completely oblivious to the fact that she had bared her teeth at him when he first approached her. Ryan had the suspicion that Acacia would most likely bite his hand off he tried to touch her now.

[User] Henryk's attention was caught by the bell ringing on the town hall. He'd since stopped watching the Red haired boy and the wolf and kept an eye on the tree line but now he picked his axe back up and brought it up over his shoulder and made his way to the large building in the center of town. He entered just after Ryan and Acacia, though instead of taking a seat in the middle he took up a spot at the back of the room, somewhere he could see everyone when the meeting started. He set his axe back down beside him, leaning it on the wall and doing the same with his weathered-looking blunderbuss before leaning back in the chair and waiting for everyone to gather.

[Assistant]
Ivory wasn't sure how much time had passed since she came inside the bar, but it was long enough to allow her to drift off to sleep for a short while without her even realizing it. However, the sound of a bell rang through the small village, instantly waking the light sleeper up. The sudden noise undoubtedly startled her, but it only took a few moments for her to regain her composure and get to her feet. It was safe to assume that the ringing was the cue that the meeting was about to start.

After grabbing her crossbow and calling Tikaani to her side, she began the short trip to the town hall.

Once she had opened the doors and stepped inside she observed those that had already gathered in the room. Of course, the first to catch her eye was the canine, which she immediately scowled at. It didn't take an expert to figure out that it wasn't someone's pet. The fact that Tikaani had begun growling only supported her assumption. Not wanting to cause a scene, especially in front of a group that undoubtedly had other beasts in it, she whispered a word of reassurance to her companion and beckoned him over to one of the far walls and took a seat near the edge.


[System]
Basic Data
Aliases: Class Rep, Namimori Jack of All Trades
Age: 17
Gender: Best Girl but a Guy Male
Appearance:

Combat Data
Faction: Vongola Famiglia
Position: Mist Guardian Candidate
Flame: Mist
Equipment: Ayumu carries nothing out of the ordinary.
Fighting Style: At its core Ayumu's combat style is built on nothing but theatricality and deception. With no combat training and no outstanding physical attributes, Ayumu only has his wiles and pragmatism by which to defeat his opponents. This isn't to say that he prioritizes winning at all costs, though. While he would much rather like to win than lose, he ultimately prioritizes his survival over everything. That said, rather than being a threat in direct combat, Ayumu's true talent lies in supporting his allies both directly and indirectly, whether that be through manipulating information or creating openings to exploit.
Techniques:* Blank Slate - A technique that purges the mind of distractions in order to put the user in a mental state more suitable for focusing upon a specific intent. Though ineffective at dispelling illusions outright, it still makes it easier to maintain one's grip on reality.

Special Characteristics:* Faceless False Fake - A lie to the self that becomes truth to the world. A kind of extreme method acting that achieves flawless performance. It is this foundation by which Ayumu's reputation as an actor is built upon. Using information on a given role, it is possible for him to assume that identity with nigh-perfect accuracy. While it doesn't cover physical characteristics like appearance and voice or mnemonic characteristics like experience and training, essentially all that makes an individual who they are is replicated. It would not be a stretch to say that with the right disguise, it would be possible to play any role perfectly.

Personal Data
Background: Ayumu was born in Tokyo to a pair of pretty normal parents, for a given value of normal that is. At any rate, the members of his immediate family lack any sort of association with the criminal underworld and are more or less just regular Japanese civilians. His parents separated when he was in elementary school as a result of irreconcilable differences compounded with his father's company going bankrupt and depriving him of a means of supporting the family. Ever since then, Ayumu's lived in Namimori with his mother.

His relationship with his debt-ridden father is still very amicable, even if his mother doesn't let them see each other outside of significant milestones in Ayumu's life (although that doesn't mean he hasn't taken the train to Tokyo under the false pretenses on more than one occasion). On the other hand, Ayumu's relationship with his mother is rather strained. She is a borderline-psychotic control freak who'd want nothing more than to micromanage her child's lifestyle, and in a rather unsurprising turn of events, has turned Ayumu's home life into not much more than a veritable bureaucratic nightmare full of rules and regulations that vary from the mundane to the completely bizarre. Nevertheless, it could be said she's succeeded in her intentions; it wouldn't be a stretch to say that everything that makes Ayumu 'Ayumu' is all this woman's fault. Even his feminine appearance is a result of his mother's desire to make him look less like the husband she can't stand and more like herself so she could more easily live vicariously through him. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, Ayumu's sense of familial loyalty renders his ability to dissent rather low. More importantly however, living under such a domineering person has instilled a strong desire to be the one in control of himself rather than the one being controlled.

He took up drama at the behest of his mother, but soon came to realize that he was both really, really good at it and that, since his mother fully supported his decision to continue acting, it was an excellent way to maintain the illusion of control for both sides. As a result of his skills, he has become the Namimori High School Drama Club's most valuable performer, but while acting is something he enjoys and a safe outlet where he can feel like everything's fine. That aside, over the years Ayumu has managed to maintain a healthy, completely average life at school. He's maintained a reputation as a helpful, reliable 'jack of all trades' type as a result of his attempts at avoiding having to go home by staying behind at school helping people clean, organize events, orient new students, or whatever the need may be. He's mostly given the jobs that are too tedious or too much effort for the usual individuals, and typically volunteers for whatever's left just to fill his schedule. Similarly, he has taken up the role of representative for his class. But despite his rather cushy and respectable lot in life, he's still very disappointed with his current state of affairs. After all, the deadline for the rest of his life rapidly approaches, and with no idea what he wants from his future, he feels as if he's losing more and more control as each day passes.
Personality: If there's one thing everyone can agree on when it comes to Ayumu, it's that he's very sociable. He is very easily capable of initiating conversation with strangers and has a good enough feel for people to know when he's overstepped his bounds. Though he is most definitely acts the part of a emotional, good-natured, easygoing sort of person, his outward demeanor as a whole can be somewhat troublesome to deal with, especially for the uninitiated. Nowhere is this more evident than in the way he speaks. Even to strangers and superiors, his tone is one that walks the fine line between necessary cordiality and overly casual familiarity. Though he is fully aware of what contemporary etiquette expects of him, the way he speaks make it seem as if he's only making enough of a token effort not to be seen as outright impolite by peers. Along with this is an almost annoying confidence in his own talents and a propensity towards saying and doing things he doesn't necessarily mean in order to provoke a reaction and as acting as the devil's advocate. To a lesser extent, he's prone to occasional bouts of melodrama and being overly preoccupied with aesthetics. Still, while his outward nature can be somewhat disagreeable, his intent is rarely malicious, and while he does enjoy building himself up, he has no desire to take anybody down. Furthermore, despite his troublesome tendencies, he's actually very responsible; he works hard and takes his duties as seriously as he can, even if his hubris sometimes gets the better of him and he neglects to properly prepare. Still, he's very persistent and likes making good on his mistakes or incomplete work rather than forgetting about it and hoping everyone else forgets about it too. He's also the type to be tight-lipped about most things, which is fortunate for those whose secrets he's keeping but less fortunate for those who want to gossip. And despite what his troublesome attitude may suggest, he leans towards lawfulness and likes when things are kept nice and orderly. Similarly, he favors, though not always associates with, people who are good to others and is actually an optimist despite what his tendency to poke fun at the unlikeliness of ideal events coming to pass may push one to believe. Overall, one might be inclined to consider him to be someone who is brimming with infectious self-confidence.

Ayumu himself desires to be like that. Unfortunately, at his core he's really not nearly as self-assured as he makes himself out to be despite what his bravado might imply. It wouldn't be wrong to say that the crux of his personality centers around a desire for control, but that's part of the problem. The idea of irrelevance, of being forced to support something he doesn't agree with, of having no say in his future both utterly terrifies and angers him, though that anger is self-directed more often than not. It's an all-consuming fear that permeates his very being. He struggles to maintain constant control of his own situation, and when that is lost or when he perceives that that is lost, a cavernous blankness overtakes him. As a result, he's developed a bad habit of using 'completely dissociate with my situation and pretend everything is fine' as his coping mechanism of choice, and when it finally hits him, he learns his lesson too well and too quickly. Unsurprisingly, you can get a better read of him as a person when he's on the reacting side of a situation in spite of, or perhaps because of, his usual role as the initiator. He's still rather calm and gentle though - control begins with the self, after all - so that's mostly relatively speaking. Considering his fixation on self-control and autonomy, it may be odd that he doesn't have many complaints about taking control from others. Contradictory and hypocritical perhaps, but humans are rarely in synchronicity with their ideals.
Relationships:* Sachiko Kanno - Misunderstood "Mentorship"
This odd pair first met when Sachiko transferred to Namimori. Ayumu, like usual, volunteered to be the one to orient her and acclimate her to the school setting. To say that Ayumu's interactions with Sachiko are odd would be an understatement. While the girl does all in her power to avoid him, Ayumu can't stand being unable to fulfill his perceived duty to the girl. As a result, he's become very persistent in trying to get through to the reticent young lady. Unfortunately for Ayumu, she does manage successfully avoid him most of the day. They do often have lunch together though, and their conversations are about as one-sided as one would expect.
* Hisaki Kawaguchi
* Yoshiaki Sugihara - Casual Acquaintance
Ayumu's interactions with Yoshi began one fateful day. A day where one man did battle for justice, and was then assigned to community service as punishment. Luckily (Unluckily?) our delinquent hero was directed to seek out Ayumu for instructions and support. With the vast dichotomy between their personalities, their interactions were expectedly very unprofessional and involved lots of flustered yelling, useless small talk, and low-key interrogation. They don't really talk much outside of the rare occasions their duties/punishments align.
* Yuki Volkov

Miscellaneous Data
Nationality: Japanese
Birthdate: October 22
Blood Type: B
Height: 175cm
Weight: 60kg
Likes: Cheesy icebreakers, fish dishes that aren't mackerel
Dislikes: Musicals, the length of his hair
Hobbies: Housekeeping, people watching
Talents: Delegation, playing cards, surprisingly good at tying knots
Family: Tamanone Tomoe née Fujino (Mother); Daisuke Tomoe (Father); Suzume Tomoe (Younger Half Sister)
Character Theme: M12+13
Other:

[User]
"Shh not so loud younglings!" Sanji was tempted to take back that remark as he seen Rei....Just forget it happened. "When demons walk upon our grass, May they face good as they pass!" he climbed a stone and did a somewhat odd fighting pose one hand in the air and other giving the symbol for peace "Mr.Bust". Although his brand new Secret Identity name was out there and it sounded as if he was a slum lord, he was a exorcist/detective. He hoped off the stone. He followed Hisaki (Not very discreetly) measuring his height and whatnot while he waited for the hike/walk to stop.

This...This isn't gonna be a one time thing....

[Assistant]
Hisaki Kawaguchi | Camping

Hisaki was at the head of the hiking group, he'd brought an array of essential items and easy to make foods, as well as a book on ingredients, but somehow he didn't look eager. That was probably because he disliked camping, he preferred the comforts of the city life, plus his uncle would make him go camping once a year for his training up until last year. He was glad to no longer need to, but to go camping again this year didn't appeal to him, despite that he came quite prepared with a fairly full bag. Likely with all this, this was probably another training camp... He was too busy frowning and hiking ahead with disdain to hear the chatter behind him too.

The hike itself was no problem to him, hiking up mountain trails was pretty normal to him, but that didn't mean he didn't want it to end. He looked a little ahead, and it seems there was still more of this path... Just walking was boring, but running would be too tiring. He just wanted to finally reach the camp site.


[System]
Age: 16
Race: Human(?)
Gender: Female

Appearance:
Druid Girl is an attractive young woman with healthy, shiny caramel-colored skin, long, silky and glossy black hair as well as bright, sunny eyes with the color of gold. She stands at just above average height, with a well-defined body, ample bosom, taut stomach and curvy legs. She is not slim or slender though, but neither is she chubby or overly plump, instead she sports a healthy and trim physique, with well-sculpted limbs and digits.

As for her attire, it is very simplistic. During late spring through to early autumn, she wears a cropped, hooded vest, a white tight-fitting bandeau on her chest - exposing her midriff completely, along with a pelvic curtain - held in place by a long-tailed sash - with many fabrics woven into it. On her feet she wears a pair of multi-strapped, but simple, sandals and on her forearms she wears a pair of simple cloth bracers. She also adorns her hair with two, long, snow-white feathers - one on each side of her head. Also worth noting is that the sash she wears has a handful of small bells hanging from it. During late autumn to early spring, her "winter clothes" consists of a hooded coat instead of the vest, a woolen shirt instead of the bandeau and a long skirt, with leggings underneath, isntead of the curtained skirt. She also wears boots and gloves instead of the sandals and bracers.

Druid Girl's voice is sweet and gentle, but full of life and vibrant energy. She is very expressive, both in her face and body-language. She has no qualms about showing physical affection for those she likes or cares for, hugging or embracing them without a smidge of embarrassment. By the same token though, it's eaasy to tell when she's upset and/or angry. Also, despite being a human, her unnaturally colored eyes seem to hint at some non-human blood running through her veins, though exactly what is far too distant and far-removed to have any actual impact on her psyche or body.

Height: 5'5" / 166 cm
Eye Color: Gold
Hair Color: Black

Personality:
Druid Girl is a friendly and kind person, with a love for life and the world around her. She is bright and cheerful, but can be mischievous and physically playful - especially with other girls. She loves nature and animals, which were the main reasons she chose to train as a druid in the first place. Additionally, the young woman loves good food and almost all manner of sweets, which often leads to her getting depressed as a druid should not eat or want more food than they actually need. While she likes animals she does not keep pets, and does not like the concept of domestication.

Also, Druid Girl loathes those who are cruel, and even more so if its targeted against those that are weak or unable to defend themselves. She also cannot stand for pointless destruction or those who indulge in great excess. She has a very hard time for anyone who believes in racial supremacy too, as well as those who discriminate agains others because of their species or gender. Unlike many druids or nature-lovers though, she does not begrudge the construction of towns and cities, as long as they don't grow too large or cause too much damage to the surrounding areas. She prefers to be out in the wild though, or at least outdoors, to being couped up inside buildings or indoors, as it can cause her to feel a slight bit of claustrophobia.

Druid Girl also doesn't hold grudges, nor does she stay mad for long. Even if insulted or angered, it will fade rather quickly and she has an easy time returning to her regular, happy and kind self. This, of course, does not apply to beings of an unnatural state though, such as the undead or beings that don't belong in this world. Any and all creatures of this kind are abominations in her eyes, and should be expunged with extreme and immediate measures. She can also get irritated when people whine about things like rain, winter or the sweltering heat of summer, finding it pointless to complain about things that they cannot change, but can handle in one way or another.

In her spare time, she likes to take walks in forests and meadows while singing, as well as checking on the local wildlife and tending to plants and trees.

Likes: Animals, Nature, Kindness, Delicious food, Sweets, All seasons
Dislikes: Cruelty, Wildlife exploitation, Senseless destruction, Unnatural beings (undead, demons, etc), People complaining about weeather and seasons
Hobbies: Singing, Forest strolls, Tending nature, Snacking on foods & sweets, Bathing, Teasing

History:
Druid Girl was born and grew up in a rural village in the western parts of the kingdom. Her parents were simple folk, her father a farmhand and her mother a daycare nurse. From an early age, she was brought along to both parents workplaces, being shown both the importance of crops and the kidness of caring for others. The girl never complained about this though, she loved her family and was happy to be with, and helping them. She espcially liked working with her father, who would show her how different crops grew, how to deal with animals and even how and where to do simple foraging. Her mother taught her more in the ways of showing kindness, the values of helping others and that why not to be spiteful or mean.

It was a peaceful time and though life wasn't always easy, it was still full of warmth of joy. As she grew older, she would take more and more interest in the things that nature could and would provide - flowers, mushrooms, nuts, roots, various types of grass and even the wild beasts that lived there. This growing interest however meant she spent less and less time aiding her parents willingly, which began to cause friction. Eventually, these little disagreements became arguments, and eventually full-blown conflicts. Finallye, Druid Girl left her house after a particularly nasty confrontation with her parents.

She left her home and her village and began to wander the great outdoors. However, even with the little information her father had provided, surviving on her own proved far tougher than she had expected. On the verge of both freezing to death and starving, she was found by a wanderer - a wanderer who happaned to be an arch druid himself. After being fed and being allowd to share his campfire, the girl told her tale and explained herself, her interest and curiosity about nature and the wilds. At first the old man urged her to return to her family, but she insisted that she wouldn't do so until she could prove that her desire to know and explore nature was more than just self-indulgence, she wanted to prove that it could be useful to both her and others. The old druid sighed and told her that, if she so desired, she could become his apprentice - on the condition that once she finished training, she would return to her family and show off the fruits of her labor.

Agreeing in a heartbeat, with the brightest smile this side of the world, Druid Girl had no hesitation or doubts when taking the old man up on his offer. The next few years were spent studying and learning from her mentor, who taught her many things, both about flora an fauna. He taught her how to speak to animals and plants, where to look and how to move to find things or places, as well as teaching her the basic arts of druidic magics. Once she reached about her mid-teens, her master eventually told her that her training was complete, congratuating his student and wishing her well - in addition to reminding her of her promise and the responsabilities she now had as a druid herself.

Returning to her home, Druid Girl was sure that she would be able to show off her knowledge and skills to her parents, allowing them to mend the rift that had been caused those many years ago. Upon her return though, she found that her father had fallen ill and her mother was worked to the bone, having to both care for her sickly husband as well as do her job to bring home money for the pair. When she first arrived, her mother was quick to lecture and scold her, then pointing out her father's condition. However, once the daughter went outside and returned with some plants and herbs, brewed a tea and used her spellcraft to help heal her ailing father, the tune changed quite rapidly. Much bawling and apologizing was had - from both parties - and the reconciliation was a success.

With her father on the road to recovery and with her mother's tearful blessings, Druid Girl agains set out on the road, heading eastward. She had heard that there was a new town in the far-frontier, a place which surely could use the help and skills of a druid to aid in keeping the wilderness in check, or at bay. So she began her journey, on the slippery, slithering pathway of adventure.

[User]
Steppe Archer appreciated not having to sewer dive again more than the two could ever know. Like, ever. Seriously. But, there was the remaining question of just what to do with all this free time left on this afternoon. While the proficient huntress would offer to go do some hunting, she doubted that a druid would support hunting for sport. Even if she was certain that with Big Red's help they could get a massive haul, she respected the druid enough to not suggest going off to skin animals for fun. Not like she did it for fun to begin with, mind you, but she knew that noblemen hunted for sport, often wasting some perfectly good animals just on virtue of the fact that they could.

"We could train. But that's not really 'fun', more just something so we don't waste the day. We could like...just talk, I guess. Maybe get to know each other better?" The nomad girl was frankly very unused to things outside of her steppe socially, used to, generally, having a bunch of girls her age with similar interests and similar background to chatter with. The druid girl was a girl, and knew things about nature, and that was about where their interests stopped meeting. Big Red was a survivalist, but was also a whole other species and gender than she was used to. So, maybe just chatting would do them all some good, in a way.

[Assistant]
Those gold colored eyes glanced at Druid Girl before he shrugged. "Something is better than nothing and the plants wouldn't have gone to waste." He said as the two settled on not going into the sewer. Honestly he could probably go it alone, but why tempt fate? Something bigger than rats and bugs could be hiding in the sewer what with only a rusty grate being the only defense in the ditches outside of town.

So they'd have a free day apparently, and Druid Girl tossed some ideas around. Then Archer Girl mentioned training or talking to get to know each other. "There's plenty of light left in the day, could do some training, talking, and such." He stated before catching on that neither knew what his people did in their off time. Assuming they ever had any. Which was a given since neither traveled to the marshes and swamps on the southern area of the continent.

"Personally I think we should do some training and not just in things you're good at." Big Red said, he could teach them some of his foot work and balanced stances. The pair were smaller than him so being tackled by something would be easier to knock them to the ground than himself. A mental blink made his brain stop, he had only known the pair of girls for a few days. Was he growing attached to them? Maybe. He was probably just feeling lonely since had been away from home for a good while. He did walk to palisade town after all.