[System]
Character Sheet

"A new dawn approaches. And it requires new eyes to see its brilliance."
Nickname: Wretched One, Dragon Slayer, Crimson One, Flayre Draconis. Reign the Ether, Wicked Summerking, Great Wanderer
Age: 19
Gender: Male

Guild: Vyper Bolt
Rank: Mage

Personality: Weirdly reckless and loud, Sable walks around towns, villages, roads, and even other guilds, as if he owns them. He has an obnoxious view of the world, where he sees everything as his. He claims he's just recovering his possessions when in actuality he's stealing what he want. Aside from this mental instabilities, its the ferocious persona and jaw-snapping pursuit of a animal that puts fear into his opponents. He's been whooped in battle plenty of times but each time, he's grievously injured his opponent(s) with sheer determination, whether that be mentally or physically. He has a stare that mimics the strength of his magic-father: Rhodroth the Land Burner.

While its possible that he has a shred of kindness in his heart, the hardships that he's been through has long since buried it. He has the strange quirk of becoming over-emotional at the slightest hints of a sad story or ending, another hint that he may have feelings deep inside. He also smells like charcoals and smoked lumber and despises the rain or cold weather even though their cold rarely bothers him. When out and about, he stays away from snakes, as he has an acute dislike for them. Oddly enough, can't stand "normal" transportation; it sends his guts into a whirlwind of knots.

History: The second child to horrible slavers, Sable was the witness of several international crimes and is considered an accomplice to over two-hundred counts of these accusations. At the age of nine, he killed his eldest brother in the spur of a moment, trying to save a small girl from a fatal beating. His family, being the ruthless savages that they were, was prepared to return the punishment in kind. A life for a life. It was his luck that a riot rupture out, the slaves had gotten out and not on accident. During the scuffle, Sable had gotten the key from his brother and tossed it to the girl. His parents weren't the wise type.

In the chaos of the riots, he watched his mother and father burned by the very people he freed. Both cheered and cursed in the same moment, Sable's mind was torn just a bit. Too afraid to be alone, he traveled with slaves for a few months, watching them as they dispersed and headed back in the direction of their own homes. When it was just him and the girl left, he decided to travel to Fiore where he would start anew. On the way there, he would lose the only thing that held his damaged mind together.

Cringle, the girl that he had grown attached to, was snatched from him by bandits on his way to Fiore.

They knocked him unconscious and though he looked for weeks, he could never find her. For months he made his home in the forest, determined to find Cringle but only finding a "large lizard". The Dragon looked upon him as a insect at first but upon witnessing his indomitable pride, he saw potential. He promised the strength to find Cringle if he was capable of learning from him.

During his time with the dragon, he was taught survival skills in the woods, though primitive as they were they worked. He forged for himself, got Rhodroth and himself countless pounds food, and went toe-to-giant with the dragon in combat. Eventually he started to notice things becoming clearer and more pronounced as if the world was giving him a perfect picture to work with. It was a sort of filter for the ugly that use to blemish it. And it was only after the filter was placed that he met the second angel of his life.

A accident during fishing left him looking after a infant. It was weird that she was the epicenter of egg shells but he didn't think much on it. She was adorable and a mess that he was tempted to leave behind but in the end, he scooped her up and brought her back to Rhodroth. The dragon showed little pity for her and told him to keep it out of his training, so to compromise the situation, Sable made a camp site for her and himself.

Begrudgingly and oddly-enough happily, he looked after her. For three years he cared for her but when thoughts of taking care of her started interfering with his training and indirectly, his true goal of finding Cringle, he had to do something. One day he overheard talk of a guild called Harpy's Wing and it sounded perfect for his little troublemaker. It was a great coincidence but it placed weight on his heart. He took a few days off of training to take her to the Guild's doorstep.

A knock on the wooden door, a demand for her to stay put, and a dash to leave her behind and he was back to his original goal. He would be a bold-faced liar to say he did not shed tears on home.

It took four years but at the age of seventeen, Sable had left the dragon and his past behind. With Fire Dragon Slayer Magic at his disposal, he took down Mages and DarkMages alike, looking for clues to find Cringle. Occasionally he would visit Harpy's Wing underneath the guise of a vagabond -cloak covering his features- to check up on Harpi but he never staid more than a few hours.

When he finally found Cringle, she was apart of a guild in Fiore called Vyper Bolt, a rather powerful guild that had molded her into a powerful mage woman. With Sable's new persona, a mischievous delinquent, he welcomed her. Though she was not as accepting. He earned a name for himself as he accomplished missions for the guild, eventually becoming something of a household name. Famous for taking on weaker guilds by himself and if ever partnered with Cringle: The Cold Witch, taking out whole armies, he had become a menace for the council.

Magic: Fire Dragon Slayer Magic & Telekinesis.
* Fire Dragon King's Roar (火竜の咆哮, Karyuo no Hoko): The user unleashes a torrent of flames from his mouth towards his opponent. Its notably stronger than its previous version.
* Fire Dragon King's Great Blow (火竜の大打撃, Karyuo no Dai Dageki): The user thrusts his fist out towards his opponent, releasing a destructive column of fire from his fist.
* Fire Dragon King's Epic Grip(火竜のエピック握り, Karyuo no Epikku Nigiri): The user grabs their opponent and unleashes a potent explosion that engulfs them. Searing them with flames.
* Fire Dragon King's Brilliant Blast(火竜の輝かしいブラスト, Karyuo no Kagayakashī Bura Suto): The user conjures a large orb of flames over his head and throws or slams it against his opponent.

Secret Art
Name: Dragon Slayer Secret Art: Wretched Sun (惨めな日, Mijimena hi)
Usage: Once
Description: Sable brings a clawed-hand to his side with massive crimson flames flowing from his hand and forearm. Once he swipes it, the wave of fire stretches out towards his opponent quickly and upon impact, explodes into a reddish-orange orb that explodes even further and ruptures the sky. It has enough power to take out an entire tower.

Rhodroth's Scarf: Old and mysterious, this cool scarf made of porcelain scales is a gift from Rhodroth and Hyrdologia. Upon wearing it, it goaded a transformation in Sable that changed his black hair, orange; brown eyes, green; and due to Natsu's magic lingering inside of it, uped his Dragon Slayer strength. It is inherently resistant to Black Magic and Passive Curses, giving it users enigmatic abilities.

Other:
* He's recently stopped smoking.
* Wanted as an international criminal but under his birth name: Mikhail Summerking.
* Has a pet crow named: Mooky.
* Is a flirt.
* Has a very adaptable and fierce martial art. Overwhelming in destructive possibilities.

[User]
Harpy's Gathering!
Ivory Blanche

Being dragged like this was so embarrassing. "Aria, you and I are going to need to buy dresses and suits for the boys." Somehow she couldn't say it straight for she didn't want to go anyway."The party starts at night. Maybe we might get more boys!.... We lack boys in our guild. My ice clone saw the prodigal and the perverted old man has returned. Oh well how was your S Class job these days?" Ivory misses her fellow comrade and hasn't talked to her for quite a while. Aria was one of the few company she finds interesting.

[Assistant]
Sable Rhodroth - WRETCHED ONE

The two fist that bumped each other was polar opposites, icy and heated, a visible fluctuation in could be seen, a shimmering of the air. He held back a grin and instead smirked, that was until a brawny parchment fell onto his face. Aiden grabbed it and after a moment of looking it over, excitedly announced the news. He raised a brow before snatching the paper from the Ice Dragon Slayer.

The masters sent this to us? he asked himself, looking around for the person who carried the unfamiliar scent on the paper. He couldn't see anyone but the scent quickly vanished soon afterwards. I guess all this moping has blinded me to my progress. Fuck yea, I'm about to show everyone I'm the best in Vyper. A dragon among snakes.

He smiled lightly, his canines showing in a cocky grin before walking off. "True that," he replied. "But first let's go see, Sai. He just got back after all and I plan on giving him one hell of welcoming!"

Sprinting down the stairs like a mad man, Sable traversed the multiple levels back to the Guild Hall in a short time. As he reached the wooden door of the small stairwell, he lit his boots aflame, burst the door into splinters, and heading for Sai with little reserve. He cocked fist his back a moment before reaching him, the crimson flames cutting the air as it plowed towards his face.

"Welcome back, now I can mop the floor with ya!" he shouted in the form of a greeting.

[User]
Aiden nodded in agreement, but instead of following Sable through the building, he jumped off the roof, making another of his dragonic ice birds. He circled down towards the entrance quickly identifying his target, Saris. He waited until Sable began his attack before he made his, charging his fist with the power of a blizzard, jumping of his bird to inact a flanking attack from sky. He waited until he was just above Saris before he unleashed his magic.

"Ice Dragon's Blizzarding Fist!"

As he made the punch, he would unleash a focused gale of freezing wind, filled with snow and shards of ice.

[Assistant]
Caroline
Caroline stood up and brushed off her skirt, tucking her notebook into a shoulder bag. She clapped her hands once and nodded. "Let's head out!" She said, happy to get moving. Writing down equations all day didn't help her stay in shape, so sometimes it was good to just start walking.

Nathan

Nathan nodded absently as he started moving to the S Class dojo. He knew the path by heart now, and let his feet move him without thinking about it, allowing him to focus on whatever else popped into his head. By the time he reached the doors, he was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he forgot to announce his presence and just walked right in.

Cynthia

"I'm so late!" Cynthia yelled as she ran through the streets. It wasn't her fault her alarm hadn't gone off and she had overslept, but the guildmaster, or heaven forbid, her second, wouldn't accept that excuse. She decided to take a short cut overhead, and jumped in the air as she yelled "White Dragon Wings!", sprouting translucent white wings from her back. She flapped manically, trying to get all the speed she could, and in a second she could see the meeting place. Unfortunately, she hadn't thought of a landing strategy for flying this fast, and as she backflapped her wings she wasn't slowing down enough. By the time she reached the ground, she was still going to fast to catch her footing and tumbled head over heals across the pavement, coming to an incredibly dizzy stop upside down against a wall.

"I'm here..." she moaned, trying to get the world to stand still.

[User]
Before Sai could truly enjoy the return to the guild, the twin baby dragonslayers would make their greeting a warm one indeed. "Don't lose focus now. Here come your fans." Chan Jak commented with a stroke of his white beard, "Maybe I'll teach you precognition magic one day." The old master leapt from his grandson's side, landing upon a near by table with his legs crossed. Oh how Sairis loved when those chumps would come for him. Even with bruises and sore muscles, Sairis would never back down from a challenge. Sable burst through the door with glorious flames following behind him. "BRING IT, LIZARD FACE!" Sai sadistic smile formed, and fortification magic enhanced his body's natural durability.

Sai just stood there whilst Sable's fist slammed into his cheek, pushing him back, feet digging into the hard wood but, Sai never faltered. Suddenly Aiden's voice came from the open front door. "OH LOOK! THE BABYSLAYER IS HERE TOO!" Sai reached up with his left hand to grab Sable by the wrist. "HERE I THINK YOU TOO NEED TO MEET! YOU BOTH GOT A LOT IN COMMON!" Using his might, Sai attempted to throw Sable above him and into Aiden and the attack. "YOU BOTH SUCK COMPARED TO ME!" Sairis initiated an entertaining backflip before getting his fighting stance. Oh he was ready to bring the pain.

[Assistant]
Sable Rhodroth - WRETCHED ONE

He showed his canines just as cocky as possible as Sai skidded back from his blow. Oh hell yea! I've definitely gotten stronger, he admitted to himself. It was obvious right? Sai was hella strong and for him to push him back with a single punch, something he couldn't do before, then he's been growing.

In a short moment, that was filled with classic Sai insults, Sable was thrown. He twisted his body so that he was facing Sai and took in a deep breath. This attack would probably barrel him into Aiden but who cared, the Ice Dragon Slayer was strong anyway, no need to be worried about his health. After all, every member of Vyper's Bolt was made of tough shit. Aiden would live.

"Fire Dragon's Roar!" he yelled, flames rushing forth from his maw and towards Sai, along with anyone else around him. The force of the blast rocketed him off towards Aiden at even greater speeds than Sai's throw. Hopefully the kid was the team player.


[System]
Age: 19

Gender: Male

Race: Makyan

Fighting Style: Martial Arts, Jinshi focus' on brutal and efficient melee attacks to ware down foes as well as attempts to put them off balance for brutal grapples and throws. Preferring to use Ki blasts as a strategic force rather than a violent one.

Abilities: Jinshi is only capable of basic flight and a simple, weak Ki blast.

Appearance: The picture bellow is only an example of Jinshi's basic features as a Makyan. His hair is similar as in the picture, only it's Jet black in colour and his skin tone is a fleshy orange he stands at roughly 6 foot tall and he wears human clothing.

Biography: Jinshi is a Makyan raised by humans on Earth, his years as one of 'the odd ones out' in society has produced a stoic and calm nature in the young man who prefers to spend his time training his martial arts rather than mingle with the hustle and bustle of traditional human life. Jinshi is very thankful to his human parents for their care but has since moved away from them seeking to expand and master his martial arts. Jinshi is not a competative person but he gets excited as the prospect of someone stronger than him being out there, he's a dedicated trainer but by no means a stick in the mud, he enjoys relaxing and having a joke or two.

[User]
Come to the Pre-Tournament! For all you thrill seekers out there, this is the tournament to show if you SHOULD go to the annual tourny! The winner gets a huge prize of 500 zeni! You're no weakling, be there! BE THEEERE!" shouted the many advertisers who travelled across a small area of land. It had been a few days since they had gone on their advertising, and today was the day the mini tournament started.

Not many showed up, enough for a small audience, and in fighters, only around twelve people, and as now was time to start, the people hosting had to go through.

"Welcome one welcome all!" shouted the announcer as he began to look into his note book of the fighters. AN alien creature or two, a human, a makyan. And then around six other humans... "Alright.. The first match up... AHem.. V..Vanina! And... Gregory Tim!" he said, awaiting them to step into the arena.

[Assistant]
Kota was among the audience that sat around the ring, waiting for the fight to begin. He had been participating in watching the Tournaments for a while now and this had been his fourth one! The excitement built within him, whether if it was because it had been against his fathers wishes or if he enjoyed them did not matter, only that the fight was about to begin. Forcing himself to a better seat, Kota quickly rushed down the stair cases to the very edge of the side-bleachers, watching with his up most attention on the fighters that were coming out. They were warriors, yet they lived every day lives like most people.

That brought his hopes up...maybe, he too could be a part of the Tournament, and win the Zeni award! He could feel it in his heart that one day, he would become a fighter of awesome power, just like the very ones that he was watching. But now was not the time to be hoping and wishing. Now was the time to be watching. All eyes gathered on the ring, Kota's watching closest the most of all.

[User]
Vanina looked up from her magazine with a surprised look in her eyes. "Oh, I'm up already?" She had hoped that she had more time to ingest more information about this planet and its inhabitants, and maybe even pick up on their fighting techniques to give an edge in the tournament. She thought back to the night before, waking up inside a crashed space pod with no chance of making it back. It was fortunate that the creatures living here weren't very threatening, not like the humongous giga beasts that roamed the surface of Vanassia. But when she learned of a fighting tournament offering local currency, it seemed like the best bet for survival.

The foreign woman rose to a standing position, walking up to her opponent who had already taken his position in the ring. The man was of average height with well-toned muscle covering his body, and seemed rather confused with what he was seeing. "Oi, is this some sort of joke? You think you can scare me with that costume?" Quite befuddled herself, Vanina scratched the back of her head with one set of arms and stretched with the other. "You mean my armor? This is no costume friend, it's some of the best equipment in the galaxy! Although I wouldn't expect primitives like yourself to know that." Realizing that all of Vanina's arms were in fact real, Gregory went bug eyed, taken aback by this bizarre display. Before he had time to come up with a witty rebuttal, the announcer started the match, and the two started to size the other up in a stare down.

Within the next moments each fighter had taken their stance. Gregory decided to make the first move, and delivered a flurry of punches. Vanina was able to juke and jive around some while also taking away the force of some by guarding with her arms. When an opening appeared the alien delivered a double right hook, one punch landing on Mr. Tim's jaw and the other on his chest. They would trade blows for a while, but for every hit Gregory would get in, Vanina would be able to double it. "It's a sloberknocker folks! Punch after punch! Blow for blow! And this strange woman in the ring seems to be pulling ahead!" Feeling in his gut that the match would end soon, Gregory lunged forward in a last ditch effort for victory, and fearing defeat, Vanina did the same. The two collided in a power struggle, and after a test of might, Mr. Tim fell to the ground stuck in a grapple hold. It only took around a minute of punches to the face for Gregory to tap out, signaling the announcer to call the match. "Winner, Vanina!" Satisfied with her victory, she gave a bow to the stands, and retreated back to her own seat, watching intently for the next round.

[Assistant]
Excitement grew in Jinshi's bowels as he peered at his surroundings in the prep room, although the contestant count was only 12 the stances and warm up techniques he observed some from some of them both surprised and amazed him. Jinshi's short bout of journeys leading to this place were quite clam and frankly boring, the Makyan felt a new burst of eagerness and excitement at the very prospect of battling some of those who graced his view now. To his right he spotted a giant of a man with a round stomach lifting weights bigger than some small adults, another contestant a women to his left struck the air with an unusual and swift technique Jinshi had never seen the likes of before.

Hearing a small crowd of cheers, Jinshi followed the source to a stone fighting ring, it's smooth grey surface complimented by the various ornament statues that decorated the facility hosting this small tournament. Finding a comfortable view point, Jinshi watched as the first fight went under way, as the crowd cheered Jinshi analysed every movement and technique used to the best of his ability hoping to see what he could learn. Although the match went for some time, it seemed clear to Jinshi who'd be the winner, the unusual looking person announced as Vanina not only had the advantage of an extra set of arms, it was clear she was trained in a unique technique to use them too! As the fight rolled on Jinshi only became more and more excited, he hoped his opponent is a strong one but most of all, he hoped to learn something that'd make him stronger, win or lose!

When the match came to an end the pale orange skinned Makyan cheered with the crowd from his position on the tall wall separating the preparation area for the fighters and the ring. Growing up Jinshi always loved watching the tournaments on T.V. but regardless of the fact that this wasn't near as big as the annual tournament, watching the event in person was an experience on a different level!


[System]
Rank: Cadet

Allegiance: Lyran Commonwealth

Planetary Origin: Asaheim of the System of Vorzel

MOS: Mechwarrior

Synopsis of Role: The Noble house of Wulfhart is among the Lyran commonwealths oldest dynasties- though not it's most prestigious. Lyris's forebearer was, in fact, a former member of Star League Defense Force who remained behind after operation Exodus. Enticed by promises of wealth and a title of his own; Seigfred Wulfhart was given a sizable portion of land on Asaheim in return for their loyalty. The Wulfharts and their ancestral battlemech have since served the commonwealth for centuries.

However, they remain among the poorer noble houses, with fate having rarely smiled upon them. Lyris Wulfhart is the families last chance to change their fortunes. Since joining the academy, Lyris Von Wulfhart has proven a skilled Mechwarrior if a somewhat reckless pilot. Athletically fit, Lyris stands a head taller than most cadets. Considered brash and hotheaded, many instructors have noted Lyris could well be a gem in the rough if she can master her apparent battle-lust. Interestingly Lyris outside of a mech is a positively cheery individual and joy to be around. This attitude has allowed her to make friends quickly and she possess a fiercely loyal spirit. Her natural charisma could make for a good foundation in a leader if she had a more relaxed disposition on the field.

Battlemech: A custom Griffin GRF-1S Variant, also boosts Prototype Jump Jets and an upgraded Hermes 275 extralight engine, though only has two double heat sinks sacrificing some improved cooling to free up weight. The 'Mech now carries a Doombud LRM-20 launcher over the right shoulder, and, due to Lyris's preferences for close quarters combat, has removed the PPC and in its place mounted a Large Laser and two Medium Lasers. The left arm is empty save a hatcet held in its grip. It also employs a CASE to protect the two tons of missile reloads stored in the left torso. Weight is further improved by using Endo Steel skeleton. GRF-1S Wolf Brawler

Height: 6'2
Weight: 183 lbs
Appearance: Possessing a mesomorph body type, Lyris is well muscled with a strong athletic muscular build, well-developed shoulders and slim hips. She also sports dark blue eyes and ashen snow white hair with nordic war paint tattoos that run down the left side of her face. An old family tradition that no one quite remembers how or when it was started.
Callsign:"She Wolf"
Father: Graf Reinhold Von Wulfhart

Mech notes: While not her Houses ancestral battlemech, Lyris has managed to paint her families heraldric colors; black strips running down each arm and leg over a white backdrop. The snarling wolf of her house is located on the mech's right shoulder.

[User]
"Overwatch element, advance until you acquire targets and engage. Concentrate fire on targets together and call them out. Keep it to LRM's and AC's, rest the lasers until you need them." That was a nod to the heat from Hart. "Keep them busy with your fire. Do not close distance at this time."

"Rat 1-5, I want support weapons targeted to the coordinates I am sending you. I want your spotter in reserve to designate new targets at discretion once we engage," fingers clicking against a nine-key board to designate grid reference.

"The rest of you advance slowly to keep the heat down as much as possible. Eichberg, you are tasked with engaging the Urbanmech at range when you visually acquire it, I want that thing destroyed. We will provide close support and keep any friends this pirate has off flanks. We are at standoff range until that Urbie is destroyed."

Mattlov eased his way forward on the orders, along with Wulfhart and Burns, mindful of the scope, and one ear on the comms.

"Rat 2-2 here, identifying a T-D-R variant, looks like a retrofitted 5S, nonstandard armament." He gave a feather-light touch of his trigger, firing the autocannon with a terrifically loud snap of the weapon and the clang of the ammunition system. Not for nothing Mattlov had a loving affinity with autocannons that included listening for the sound of another round chambering. No lasers, and the SRM's were not in range, so he settled his mech into a good outcropping for cover, giving the barest sort of exposure he could give and still fire.

The Thunderbolt was turning, with a mostly torso-mounted array of weapons. He was already calculating his shift back into cover, after the second shot...if he timed it right, he might even get a good torso hit instead of a piece of the arm, like the first shot. His thought processes noted the registering of the hit and the next squeeze of the trigger without necessarily bringing it into the forward conscious. A mechwarrior, his mother told, fought in the machine, with his consciousness, even the parts not overtaken by the neurohelmet's connection, finding itself in a symbiotic relationship with the machine.

Blue, crackling light, a hateful little comet, pounded against the nearby rock that he'd just gotten to cover behind, chipping off a portion of it and briefly flaring too brightly for the flare compensators to properly match for a half a second.

"PPC fire," he noted coldly to his lancemates, "Far range, accurate," he further noted.

[Assistant]
AFFS Subaltern Johan Rosales-Eichberg
Rifleman RFL-5D

 Teamwork. His father told him tall tales about his exploits as a mercenary, him and his fellow mercs tackling impossible odds and coming out on top, in a huge variety of situations in a plethora of environments. There was one constant in all of the stories that his father stressed. Teamwork. Through communication, effort and cooperative action you create teamwork, and with teamwork you can overcome things that would normally be impossible. Johan heard his orders, he was tasked with destroying the Urbanmech. The small pilot swallowed, he dictated his teams whole advance, if he wasn't able to destroy that Urbanmech quickly, all of his lancemates would be bogged down. Johan slowed his advanced and kept a large chunk of raised rock in between him and the pirates. Maybe... maybe he didn't need to explicitly destroy the Urbanmech. The most dangerous thing about the light mech was it's AC/20, which Johan recalled was mounted in it's right arm mount. He remembered that there was a massive textbook back at the NAIS, it had the armor values of nearly every single mech deployed in the modern day. Extensive live fire weapons testing gave that textbook highly accurate information as to how much firepower a mech could take before it's armor was stripped off, and how much it could take before being completely destroyed. The Urbanmech R-60L. Luckily the NAIS had their hands on at least one, since the data was listed on Johan's neurohelmet. He quickly scanned the information before stepping his Rifleman out and peering over the horizon, searching for the shape of an Urbanmech. The armor on the right arm mount of a UM-R60L was astoundingly light, and it would take only a little bit more than one PPC blast to take off the arm entirely.

"Rat 2-2 here, identifying a T-D-R variant, looks like a retrofitted 5S, nonstandard armament." Johan heard through his radio. A retrofitted mech was trouble, but for right now not his trouble. Johan focused on finding that Urbanmech... until he saw a blur of movement from the corner of his eye, and shot out from it a blue bolt from a PPC. "PPC fire. Far range, accurate," Johan heard again, he kept his eye near where he saw the fire.
There! The broad shoulders, inverted triangle torso shape, and iconic mouth shaped cockpit shape, it was most likely a panther. But as soon as it came up, it fell back down to whatever ground depression it was running along. Jumpjets. Johan knew there was a river, perhaps it was running down it? Johan clicked his communications open but whatever words that came out were stammered and incoherent, he shut it off, embarrassed and recalled his father once more. Every single time his father wanted him to look at something, a bird, a food stand, a nice looking car, he would always say 'look' first. The alert. Then where it was, what it was, then whatever additional information. His father always stressed that communication was a major part of teamwork. Johan tried again.

"Contact! Far! East-South-East, bearing One-Zero-Seven! Um... Likely Panther with PPC! Running southwards, using jump jets to fire at us!" Johan made sure to shout over whatever gunfire there was. He had his Rifleman step out a little more, hoping that the enemy Thunderbolt was busy engaging with Mattlov's Shadowhawk. Johan scanned for the Urbanmech, and he found it beyond the Thunderbolt, using it as cover from Mattlov, but the Thunderbolt couldn't protect the Urbanmech from two. Johan halted his rifleman, swung the torso around and took a quick second to sight in his target. The Urbanmech was running at top speed towards the treeline, Johan selected his Rifleman's left arm PPC and squeezed the trigger, a bolt of lightning shooting out towards the Urbanmech's rear right torso. The shot was intended to disable the ammo feed, and possibly disable the whole arm along with it, but at the last moment it twisted it's torso to the right. The shot smacked against the gun housing of the Urbanmech's right arm, where it had it's armor. The armor soaked up most of the impact and damage, though the internal systems of the arm was damaged. The arm began to spark and smoke, but it still wasn't destroyed, and the AC/20 was likely still in play. Johan was about to follow up with a single large laser to take it's arm off, but the enemy Thunderbolt responded. Johan saw it twist it's torso to aim at his Rifleman, and Johan reactively twisted his own torso to defend against the incoming attack. Johan looked over and saw two bright green lasers lance out, medium lasers, and they zapped at Johan's right gun arm. His BattleMech told him that it felt the lasers raking towards the gun barrels, scorching and melting armor plating as it went along. The Thunderbolt was aiming to damage his gun barrels! Johan lowered his gun arms to avoid this, and the last split second of the incoming medium lasers shot past Johan's cockpit, going past him now that his arms were out of harms way.

Johan grit his teeth and took another step forward, putting his Rifleman into a crouch. He only had a few precious moments now before the Urbanmech reached the treeline. Johan twisted his Rifleman's torso towards the enemy and brought his gun arms up to bear, the Urbanmech had just reached the treeline but if he was fast enough... the left gun arm again, large laser this time. A brilliant blue beam burned forward, striking the Urbanmech in the back. Johan brought the beam towards it's right, where the heavily damaged gun arm was, but it responded by twisting left, presenting its undamaged left side. Despite this Johan kept the beam on target, if he wasn't going to have it's gun arm, he was going to damage it as much as he could with this laser. The Urbanmech swung left, using the trees as cover and concealment. The laser sliced through one tree with ease, the palm tree falling over with a crash. The laser halted before it could cut through the second tree, it leaned, while on fire, splintered with an audible crack and impacted another tree as it fell over. Then the Urbanmech disappeared behind a cluster of denser trees.
Johan muttered a curse, frustrated, and stood his mech up again. He walked backwards back into cover, putting Mattlov's Shadowhawk and the rock between him and the Thunderbolt. He wanted to cool off his mech, despite it being only around the halfway mark. As soon as he got into cover, he thumbed his communications again, "Johan reporting. Urbanmech's right arm is heavily damaged, left side is slightly damaged. It disappeared in the trees. Currently cooling at half heat capacity and on standby."
Johan thought about that short engagement. There were Harassers reported with the Urbanmech... where had they gone? And that Panther moving south towards the patch of trees, where the Urbanmech disappeared into... they were regrouping their light mechs, possibly. But these were just speculations, Johan didn't want to bother the Captain with useless information. Once Johan cooled off entirely, he thought about repaying that Thunderbolt back with a large laser or two.


[System]
Appearance: Post-Transference Body

Age: 35 (became an automaton at 25)

Race: Automaton, formerly Human

Abilities:

Automaton Body
Aerarius's soul has been transferred into a magitech automaton. His body, constructed with alchemical alloys resembling brass, is highly resistant to corrosion, heat, cold temperatures, and physical damage, and is capable of feats of strength and endurance far beyond that of a human. Many of his joints can rotate 360°, making him surprisingly dextrous. His body is powered by a mana battery capable of storing considerable energy. He does not need to breathe, and can function underwater.

His body runs on mana, which it uses to power its systems and protect against wear and tear. In order to recharge, he can enter a dormant charging state where he begins to siphon the mana from his environment, although this is a slow, inefficient process unless he is plugged into a charging station (unlikely, considering most if not all have been destroyed) or in proximity to a ley line.

After his home was destroyed, he has made further modifications made to his body. His protective exterior plating has been inscribed with glyphs of magical absorption. He has additionally added storage compartments underneath his exterior plating, allowing him to carry a few items inside his body.

Aerarius's body's sensory capabilities are a mixed bag. He possesses sharp sight and the the ability to visually perceive magical energy, but his sight is slightly restricted by the shape of his head. His olfactory senses are more or less the same as human, although because he cannot eat, he sometimes deactivates it. He has a keen sense of hearing, but this also means that without some background noise, he will constantly hear the soft whirring and humming of his own body's mechanisms. His body possesses a sense of touch, but his rigid fingers struggle to perceive texture.

His body is not without drawbacks. Its considerable mass and density means that he weights considerably more than a human of similar size, and he sinks like a stone. Damage to his body must be manually repaired, as healing magic has no effect on him. It is nearly impossible for him to move silently because his servos and cogs generate a small amount of noise. If the crystal housing Aerarius' soul (located in his torso) is broken, he will die. If his mana battery (also located in his torso) is sufficiently damaged, it may explode with considerable power. Lastly, the knowledge of his creation and inner workings were forever lost- while it may be possible to find spare parts from the remains of other brass automatons, any component beyond his own ability to reconstruct will never be created again.

Skills:

Apprentice Artificer
Aerarius was a student of magitech artifice when the war broke out. He cannot channel magic through incantations, but he possesses the knowledge to imbue objects with magic by etching glyphs, runes, and magical circles onto them, and can construct simple magitech devices if he has access to the necessary resource. He also has some knowledge of smithing, allowing him to make basic repairs to himself.

Swordsmanship
Even before the war broke out, Aerarius had prior experience in the Royal Army, during which he excelled in swordplay. After several years of almost-constant combat in his automaton body, he was one of the Alliance's best fighters with a sword and shield. His limbs strike with far more force than a human of his size, and have a range of movement and rotation that no normal living being can hope to match, making him a very tricky opponent. He has no concept of a fair fight and has been known to pretend to be nonfunctional or pose as a statue in order to get the drop on an enemy.

Personality:

While he may appear to be a mindless construct, Aerarius's mind is as human as the day of his transference. He feels emotions just like a living being, and while some of his baser human urges like hunger have faded, he still vividly remembers them. Above all, Aerarius is a man of hope. Before the war, he dreamed of becoming a magitech artificer, hoping to contribute to the advancement of his kingdom's wondrous works and knowledge. After losing his homeland and witnessing the destruction of his society's collected knowledge, he dedicated himself wholly to battling against the Volstanian Empire, intent on living to see it destroyed and the damage inflicted undone.

While Aerarius misses some of the sensations of his old body, he does not regret giving it up- he'd likely be dead if he hadn't become an automaton. He doesn't know if his body will eventually succumb to wear, but he will keep it functioning as long as he possibly can- he wants to witness when the world finally begins to get better, and he'll do whatever he can to make it happen.

In person, he is highly patient and very methodical in all that he does, whether it is swinging a sword, etching an enchantment, or speaking with someone, to the point that he may seem slow at first glance. While initially he had no tolerance for those who mistook him for a simple-minded construct, he has learned to accept it, and even take advantage of the misconception when the opportunity presents itself.

History:

Aerarius was born in a nation known for its advanced magitech. It was his dream to attend the Royal Institute of Magical Technology, the kingdom's most prestigous center of learning. As his family was lacking in wealth and prestige, only avenue for Aerarius to join the Royal Institute was to serve a tour of duty in the royal army. His efforts paid off- after being discharged, he managed to get accepted into the institute. It was during his third year of study that the kingdom was one of the first to be invaded by the Volstanian Empire. The war went very poorly, and as the enemy advanced on the capital, the High Artificer of the Royal Institute proposed a contingency plan to save their kingdom- they would transfer the souls of willing soldiers into the bodies of alloy automatons and create a tireless, metallic army. Aerarius was among those who volunteered to be turned into an automaton soldier, willingly sacrificing his body to save his homeland.

The automatons, dubbed the Brass Legion, proved considerably more effective than standard soldiers and even stalled the Volstanian advance, but it was not enough. The capital city was besieged by an overwhelming force and most of the Brass Legion fell in a last stand. To ensure that the technology could not be misused, the High Artificer destroyed all research pertaining to the soul transfer process, and destroyed the foundry where the automatons were constructed Aerarius was the only automaton to escape, having joined with a group of soldiers who had chosen to fight their way out of the city rather than die in a futile stand.

After escaping, he rejoined the fight under the banner of the Alliance. As the conflict dragged on, he learned to master his new body, even making his own modifications to it, and became one of the Alliance's best warriors, chosen to be sealed away.

Other: Aerarius carries a sword and retractable shield. He also has a few tools stored in compartments beneath his exterior plating.

[User]
Ah.

So they had forgotten?

"... I suppose it only makes sense," Sylphie said, cocking her head to one side. "After all, it's been so long since I've had a chance to let loose. It's been far too long since I was able to punish the wicked for their misdeeds."

The tiny girl titled her wrist, sliding her left foot backwards as she did. The bandits' charge wasn't disorganized and reckless, the average fighter likely would have been overwhelmed.

Sylphie smirked. Average fighters indeed would be overwhelmed. They would be killed by the assault. But... oh, these bandits didn't know, they didn't realize. They didn't understand the opponent they were facing. Not at all. Not even slightly! This was something totally, completely, utterly, beyond anything they could expect!

Her heart was beating faster and faster. She could taste their evil intent and it served only to cause her excitement to spike up further, to fill her body with the warmth. They hadn't surrendered. They hadn't repented for their sins. This was something they had brought entirely and completely on themselves, and she would relish in their poor decision-making.

Unrepentant sinners had forfeited their lives. It was a simple rule.

"Then allow me to teach you something once more, o sinners," Sylphie continued, her smirk spreading into a wide grin as the glee seeped into her voice, "To teach you about the retribution that the wicked should fear!"

Her body moved. It was difficult for a human observer to understand, as the tiny black-haired girl felt the wind whipping past her body. The bandit who had moved first was the one she had chosen as her target, and in a split second she had reached him.

A blade that large shouldn't have been able to move that elegantly or swiftly, and yet it did all the same. As it had done many times before.

The man's body came to a halt.

His head came free from his body, with a cut so impossibly clean it didn't look like it was something that could be seen in this reality. Blood spurted from the stump of his neck as the corpse toppled to the ground, hand still gripping that sword.

The second man half-stumbled in his attempt to attack, stunned briefly as he swung his axe down by the sight of one of his fellows being decapitated so effortlessly. Sylphie's sword cut into his waist from his back and out his front, nearly severing his body completely in half.

Sylphie let out a giggle. Crushing sinners, claiming victory, slaughtering the wicked...!

Oh, it had been far too long!

She lunged forward, as the next bandit stumbled back in shock and fear. The tip of her blade penetrated his armor like it didn't exist, the thick sword piercing through his front and out his back. Casually, the demigoddess lifted her sword, taking his body with it. She flicked it to the side, flinging the limp corpse away.

"Allow me to introduce myself once more!" cried Sylphie with a wide grin, thrusting her bloodstained blade into the air, "I am Sylphie Sorvost, Aphei's Left Seat!"

[Assistant]
~Izel~

---

Izel watched as Sylphie enthusiastically introduced herself. How adorably violent, but it seemed like the bandits were completely immune to fear. Or perhaps they had forgotten it? Ufu, well then, Sylphie was certainly going to enjoy herself. The bandits didn't hesitate to rush them, thinking them nothing more than exactly as Izel said. Innocent girls lost in the mountains, easy prey for the vile people like them.

The mage merely watched with mild curiosity as they rushed them. A good formation, for average people. How boring. They weren't going to be good entertainment at all, were they? The mage sighed lightly. Unlike Sylphie, this was going to be utterly boring for her it looked like.

While several headed for Sylphie, Izel coldly faced those headed for her.

"My my, so rude and brutish. When a cute girl asks for help, you give it to her." Izel let out a long, drawn out sigh. "But I suppose you uneducated flies wouldn't understand that, would you?" She supposed she could just wipe them all out here, but where would the fun in that be? She wanted some entertainment after all.

The bandit that rushed her swung his sword - from an outside perspective, it seemed like it had hit her - yet it sliced nothing but air.

"Yoohoo, what are you aiming at, hm?" Izel had somehow moved from where she had been standing to a space five feet away, waving playfully at the bandit. "Seeing things are you? My, perhaps you need a doctor?" Another bandit made another attempt to strike, but his blade struck air all the same. "Ah, ah, really. Are you so easily fooled by that?" The second bandit's eyes widened as a cold, pair of hands gripped the side of his face from behind. "No fun at all, are you?"

To onlookers horror, his entire body began petrifying. The bandit shouted, screaming and clutching at his throat in horror as slowly he was turned to stone.

"Whoopsie." Izel was standing behind him, flexing one of her hands. "Oh dear, all I wanted to do was share a bit of knowledge with him. Oh well~" The tone of her voice and what she was saying sharply contradicted the other. The first bandit, undeterred headed right for Izel...and this time his sword struck!

But -

"You even kill your own comrades. My my, you bandits are an honorless lot." Izel was standing behind him, and he had just struck down one of the other bandits. A grin formed on Izel's lips, slowly growing as she turned to face the group of bandits. "Well, I suppose it's about time I stopped playing around with kid games, then, hm?" She raised her arm towards the group of bandits. This was a rather inelegant spell, but often times such brute force was needed for a show of power.

A fireball formed in her hand, before it grew, nearly tripling in size. With barely a thought, it blasted through the group of bandits, slamming into one of their fortifications and exploding on impact.


[System]
NICKNAME: Lila, Bombshell, Princess (what her father and grandparents calls her)

AGE: 22

GENDER: Female

EX: Hunter

FAVORITE MUSIC: Indie Rock, Rock, Pop, a little Hip-Hop. Dislikes Classical, any type of Metal, Country, Rap and R&B

FAVORITE COLOR: Magenta, Silver, Bronze, Gold, Blood Red, Navy Blue

HOBBY(s): Reading, Shopping, Going out with friends, Walks on the beach, Netflix, Traveling

PERSONALITY: Friendly, Passionate, Intense, Jealous, Loyal, Outgoing, Vengeful, Stubborn, Impatient, Flirtatious.

TATTOOS/PIERCINGS/OTHER: One piercing on each ear. One tattoo of five black stars in form of an S in her left forearm.

MAJOR IN COLLEGE: Chemistry Senior

OTHER: Delilah Duclerc comes from a privileged family. Her father is a well-known lawyer with vast knowledge in politics and economy, who decided to run for Blackwood (their hometown) mayor for the Democrats, won and is currently on his last term. On the other hand, her mother was an auditor for an important company before she resigned to take the role of Blackwood's First Lady. Lila is the type of girl that never forgives or forgets. Enjoys swearing. Only her ex knows what a freak she is in bed.

[User]
---

Clover's been in the gym for about thirty five minutes before she realizes anything is a miss.

The ginger girl had tried her hardest to sleep in that morning and not work out, she was on vacation after all, but in the end she hadn't been successful in that endeavor. She just kept imaging applying for the police academy after graduation and failing the physical exam by one push up, all because she decided to slack off during her spring break. If she didn't become a conservation officer, than what the hell was she going to do with a degree in ecology and wildlife conservation?

'I'd starve, that's what I'd do,' she thinks to herself a little facetiously as she re-racks her weights and heads over to the treadmills. Clover hadn't really put a lot of work into her appearance before coming to the fitness center, she was just going to get all sweaty and gross anyways, what was the point? The lithe girl had just put her hair up in a ponytail, slapped on some deodorant, pulled on her sneakers, and headed out the door. Clover stuffs her earbuds in and by the time the freckled girl actually starts running, Nicki Minaj and Beyonce are well into singing about how they where feeling themselves.

Once she'd started to warm up, Clover let her mind drift, thinking about how unlucky Delilah and Addy were. Seriously, what were the odds of running into both of their exes on this ship? 'That would the worst,' she muses, her stomach twisting a little at the thought of seeing her old boyfriend here. She tries to stop that train of thought, but she's never been the best at that sort of that thing, so she decides to people watch instead and just pray that it runs it's course. Her blue eyes drift from passenger to passenger, until they finally land on a man that looks awfully familiar for some reason. Clover is panting at this point and she squints to try and get a better look at him.

'...Is that Jar?'

Was the universe really this cruel?

He was standing at the drink bar, looking as handsome as ever with his perfect hair and his stupidly adorable cheek bones and Clover was in the rattiest t-shirt she owned and she was going to set this whole ship on fire and then swim back to shore because she wasn't ready to face him and pretend like she wasn't devastated that one day he had just decided over a bowl of popcorn that they weren't going to work and she was going to have to move to Africa to get away from this man and--

Somewhere, in the midst of her panicked ramblings, Clover actually forgets to run. The convener belt keeps rolling and soon the redhead is falling backwards, her arms pin wheeling comically before she losses her footing completely and falls flat on her back. "Hgn," she says pitifully, her chest heaving as she tries to get her wind back and hopes that by some miracle he didn't see her.

[Assistant]
_______________________________________________________________________________________________

"Well, if it makes you feel better. You're not the only one that has to deal with his ex on this damn ship. That said, mine ran away the moment she saw me." He sighed, he was feeling rather sorry for Hunter. What kind of crazy ex did he have? He made her sound like the daughter of some maffia boss, save for the legal part. Jules grinned when Hunter asked him how he would deal with this, Hunter knew that Jules had a thing for getting his way with people. "Well, first of all. It'd be one hell of a legal battle. My father has a pretty great legal team at his disposal and my sister's a pretty darn good lawyer as well." Jules actually didn't speak often of his family, not even to his friends. Even though he was rather well off, the familial situation was rather messy. "In your case, however, it sounds like you are dealing with someone far above you in status and resources. It's going to depend a lot on a person-by-person basis, but there are a few nice general life lessons."

Jules leaned back on the railing put his hand to his chin and closed his eyes, his standard thinking pose, for a few seconds. He then opened his eyes and spoke slowly "First of all, be proactive. Take action and get resolve it. If you wait to take action until something happens, that something will probably be bad for you. f she's the one that can destroy you, act to resolve before she can do so." Jules then rose two fingers "Second, think win-win. It's much easier to resolve something with someone if they get something out of it. Also, consider what your win is in this situation and work towards that." He then rose the third finger "Lastly, the most important one: Seek first to understand, then to be understood. Listen damn well to her and genuinely try to understand her. That makes a person more likely to listen to you and understand you and seek a positive solution." These were some pretty general lessons, but they weren't often utilized well or at all. They were actually three habits of seven used for attaining goals and character ethic. The other ones wouldn't really help this situation. Jules put the hand he was holding up on Hunter's shoulder "Keep those in mind and try to work something out. Can't really help more without actually knowing her, sorry for that." He smiled as got up from his leaning position "Alright then, I'm off to bed. Good night."

The next day

Somehow when he woke up, he had the short hope that yesterday had been a dream. A bad dream in which he goes on a cruise with his friends and meets his ex. Maybe today was truly the day that they would depart. But no, everything was real. He was stuck on this ship with Addy. Then again, were things truly that bad? She wanted to avoid him like the plague and he wanted nothing to do with her. He knew that wasn't really possible. His mood just darkened whenever he saw her. Whenever they'd run into eachother, they'd ruin eachother's day even without doing anything. Maybe he should take his own advice and work things out? Or maybe he should devise an alternative plan, one that involves his entertainment at the cost of hers? That would certainly keep his spirits up. If he couldn't remove her presence, he could at the very least use it to his advantage if he got the chance. He stopped the train of thought. These were actions to be decided at a later moment, or maybe not at all. Maybe it turned out he lived in the reality where the astronomically small chance of not encountering eachother at all for the rest of the vacation was the truth? He could only hope as much.

Jules slowly got out of bed and walked directly into the bathroom. He undid himself of his boxers and showered for at least a good fifteen minutes. He took the time to contemplate his next action. Ultimately he decided to give the library a try. There were few things as relaxing as a good book. Maybe there was something he could borrow for the trip to keep his mind from the things he didn't want to think about. He brushed his teeth and dressed himself in jeans and a white blouse. The library was about a ten minute walk from his room, and rather uneventful. He looked around as he walked, mentally noting interesting places to visit at least once during his stay. He walked accross this one restaurant that looked like it served some legit French cuisine. Maybe that would be where he'd get his dinner tonight.
When he finally arrived at the library, he was actually rather surprised by its size. He hadn't expected a library on a cruise to have a selection of books this large. He waded through the bookshelves, looking for anything of interest. Eventually he stumbled upon a section filled with tragedies. He went by the books one by one, looking for any writers he knew. Jules had a weird thing for tragedies. They were the kind of stories he enjoyed the most. Perhaps just the right book he needed was hidden somewhere in these shelves.


[System]
"Do you mind? Unlike you I have to make my tools, not just flick my wrist."

 Jaklo Wright, The Wolf's Legacy

The most apt description of Jaklo's normal state
Age: Twenty one.

Gender: Male

Species: Human

Appearance: Jaklo is 6' 2" and around two hundred pounds.He has thick dark brown hair that is kept three or four inches long. He cares more that is is out of the way than how it looks. Most of the time it doesn't matter as he'll keep it under a cap. Jaklo has cold amber eyes. The irises glow when he uses his night vision. Jaklo has overall sharp features on his face.

As for his build Jaklo is rather lean, but not scrawny in the slightest. If anything he has some trouble building up fat, and he always has plenty of muscle from work.

Jaklo prefer efficiency to fashion. He grades clothes by pockets rather than people's names. He typically will wear regular shirts with simple solid colors, cargo pants, a solid pair of hiking boots and a long trench coat. He wears hats almost constantly. It's just a thing he does. Caps, wide brim hats, beanies, anything he can wear comfortably.

His only exception is at the office where he understands that they have to keep up professional appearances. here it's white shirts, a vest, and slacks.

Background: Jaklo came into the business of magic through the work of an old hunter named Wulfegang Shelt. Jaklo was always a troublesome kid. Even in preschool he was highly aggressive and would fight the other children over even little things. He wasn't cruel or evil, but his parents couldn't channel his aggression through anything. This is where Wulfegang presented himself. The older man was known throughout the neighborhood. He was a retired park ranger as well as a big part of the community. He offered to homeschool Jaklo and try his best to help the kid. He remarked that "I was just like that at his age." From there the story somewhat tells itself. Wulfegang did teach him all things he would be expected to learn in school, but he wasn't just a park ranger. Wulfegang was a Hunter.

Everyday, even weekends, Jaklo got to see just why he was so different. Hunters can come in all kinds of forms, but Jaklo had access to a powerful primal side of himself. With training and practice he could be an apex predator. Left alone he would likely tear himself apart. Training started simple of course. You don't normally hand a five year old a sword and drop them in the woods to fight monsters. Jaklo stuck it out with Wolf, a simple nickname for his gray haired teacher, until he was eighteen when he struck out to really test himself. He used the cover of attending college to let himself explore around the U.S. and see what he was capable of.

It was only a year later that he returned home for a break. He hurried to see Wolf, but found his house surrounded with people and an ambulance. Jaklo rushed in to find his teacher dead. He rushed to his side. Jaklo shook and shook Wolf grabbing onto his shirt. He was about to start doing chest compressions when an EMT pulled him back.

"He's already been dead awhile. He died in his sleep last night." The EMT tried to console Jaklo.

"What'd he die of? He's been perfectly healthy. Just last week he was hiking the trails." Jaklo growled, but there was far more pain than anger in his voice.

"He's also ninety seven. When you get to be that age you sometimes just pass away." The EMT said in flat honesty

"That's bullshit." Jaklo shouted before turning back to his mentor, "Wolf! God damnit Wolf! You can't just do this to me. I'm not ready yet. Wolf!"

Jaklo fell to his knees every emotion boiling up: rage, agony, despair. He could feel a void in his being opening up. The funeral went on a few days later. Wulfegang was unmarried, had no children, and no contact with other family. Everything in his will went to Jaklo who was labeled as "student and the damn near closest thing I have to a son.". Jaklo spent a good few months sorting through his mentor's belongings as well as his own feelings. It was in the many collections Wulfegang had that Jaklo discovered a little group called Wells and Raick. Wulfegang was meticulous with journals and had a fair few photos. One that stood out was Wolf in his prime with a motley crew of men, women, and even some magical beings. They were all outside of a brick building with a big wooden sign that read "Wells and Raick Private Investigations". The back of the old Polaroid also had a note. "The gang from W&R after the big hunt." It took a bit more searching, but Jaklo eventually found a phone number and a new path.

Current Life: Jaklo moved to Maine over a year ago and has been working for W&R since then. He has a tiny home that houses just him. It's a simple little place basically a rustic but modern log cabin. Jaklo does prefer to spend his time working on his weapons and such, but even he has to get out sometimes. His usual haunts are a pub on main street close by to the office called The Tavern and the waterfront. The Tavern isn't exactly a fantastic place, but the beer is cold and the company doesn't drive him insane. Jaklo grew up near Great Lakes so he's always been used to seeing big bodies of water and something about being there does make him think of home…and chips.

Personality: Jaklo has grown out of his overly aggressive childhood and become reasonably well adjusted adult. Wulfegang was right though Jaklo is not normal mentally. His mana is used to fuel his predatory skills and instincts. He seeks challenges and fights by nature. Age and wisdom lets him pick only fights that matter. Of course wisdom tends to go out the window when he gets really pissed.

Jaklo is a largely positive person who lives for his job and gains great satisfaction from it. He's glad he can help people and knows his mentor would be proud of his choices. This positivity does not mean he is outwardly so. He looks solemn, and He can appear a bit gruff with first encounters, but that's just him not being in a social mood.He can be a good friend but only when he wants to. He just has a lot of weight on his shoulders. He's the soul student of his mentor feels personally responsible to carry on.

Jaklo is driven by a strong sense of duty to his mentor. He could have had a really miserable life, and instead he gets to fight monsters for a living. He has plenty to be thankful for and never forgets what Wolf did for him. He would rather die than dishonor his master.

Nothing disgusts Jaklo more than people with no regard for the natural world. Now he won't punch a guy for littering, but there are serious troubles going on these days because of moronic actions of rich people.

Jaklo has no extreme fears, but isn't a fan of dying or anything horrible like that. At most he doesn't want to let people down, and especially doesn't want to fail his mentor. He wants to keep that legacy going strong.

Schools of Study: Alchemology and Beastiology.

Specialization: Arcane Firearms, Metallurgy, Brewing, Smithing, and Enchanting

Spells: Jaklo has only one spell. It's a spell that lets him gain night vision.

Abilities: Tracker: Jaklo has been taught how to pick up on tiny details and follow trails made by his quarries.

Crack Shot: Jaklo has been working with firearms since he was young and is deathly proficient.

Ammo Assembler: Jaklo knows how to make magical ammo that will cause various effects when fired. His primary ammunition types are: Dragon's breath (a variation on the normal ammo type using greek fire as the base for the flame), Buckshot (if it bleeds this will kill it), Silver Flechette (twenty or so silver slivers ready to make any magical creature wish for death), 5.56 NATO (For those blade runner moments. You know like That gun), and Wolf Fang (an alchemoarcane ammo that produces white fang like bolts when fired. The shot has the magical energy to pierce and the stopping power of physical ammo.)

Toxic Concoctions: Jaklo has been trained to use venoms and make poisons.

Hunter's Hand Grenades: Jaklo knows recipes for: firebombs, freezing catalysts, and smoke bombs.

Back to basics: Jaklo has a solid education with the most common weapons and improvised weapons very well.

Weapons not required: even with his bare hands Jaklo is a capable fighter.

Custom Engineered: Jaklo builds all of his own gear specifically for himself. He can make all kinds of bladed weapons, firearms, and armor.

The secret ingredient? MAAAAGIC: Jaklo can imbue his weapons and tools with magical properties. He can only get one or two simple enchantments to be stable on a tool right now.

Thrill of the Hunt: Jaklo has a deep rooted need to hunt. He has an extra sense akin to instincts that give him a little extra insight into beasts and monsters. As well as a deep seeded rage which can either fuel or destroy him.

Equipment:

Arcane Justice: A quad-barreled shotgun/blunderbuss made of metal as black as the abyss. The barrels are engraved with alchemical patterns, but also have some inlaid silver for certain sigils. It has a full stock made out of white ironwood. Each barrel can be shot individually and loaded with either shells or literally anything that fits. Despite its status as a shotgun Arcane Justice can be highly accurate when loaded with rifle ammo. Jaklo refers to it as the firearm equivalent of a swiss army knife.

Ammunition Pouch of Holding: While true bags of holding are very very hard to make bags made to hold a lot of one thing or a lot of very similar things are much easier. The ammo pouch is about the size of brick and made out of dark red demonhide. Jaklo can reach into it and pull out whatever ammo he wanted to pull out so long as he put it in.

Legacy: A magical blade that can take on the shape of for different weapons. A large hunting knife for butchering kills, a short sword, a longsword, a falchion. The blade was a gift from Wolf and the start of Jaklo's carrying on of Wolf's legacy. The blade has basic magical properties and as such can hurt those resistant to normal weaponry. As well the weapon itself is expertly made and can even cut into some soft metals

Visage: A long dark brown trench coat in appearance, but in truth it is a heavily enchanted piece of armor that protects every part of Jaklo even those not covered by the coat. There is a small barrier all around Jaklo when it is active. It is hardly indestructible and breaks easily to four or five good hits. The shield recharges in around a minute, but also slightly regenerates up to full power when not being his.

Other:

[User]
Mithias leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, and stared unblinkingly at Markiel with a stoic, but not unkind, expression, as he listened to the old warlock divulge his sincere feelings. He was an interesting case, this Relovski, an undying, yet very alive and human, living being. It was pleasant to see even briefly into his soul, and Mithias counted himself lucky to have caught many a glimpse.

This kindred immortal was however, following down a dark path, one that had claimed many a fledgling or oldblood alike. Death didn't always come in the night with a hood or a blade as the naive often expected. It was far older and far more sinister. One brought it upon themselves, slowly, becoming their own killer.

When Markiel finished a silence followed. The vampire brought a slightly clawed hand up to his very white chin as he finally blinked at him. It was time obviously, that Markiel needed 'the talk.'

"You speak of funerals, of death and of loss. Your thoughts turn to darkness and begin to swirl about the vortex of doom as if there were no other possibility. Immortality is not merely a constant apology for lack of dying, Markiel. In all your years, have you not witnessed births as well? How many lives have you encountered and enjoyed that you never would have had you remained mortal? Do you ever think on that? Their lives have been blessed by you, and despite your nihilistic assumptions, even mortal lives have meaning in their fleeting existance. Your life has meaning. Your life is no torment to you, only that you look upon it that way. The demon you fear only laughs at the torture you bring yourself. You see, you're something else now Markiel, something no longer meant to die. All you need to do is reach up and grasp your destiny and make it yours. Claim it. Own it. And may every moment of your consciousness be spent in appreciation and wonder at what the universe has to offer."

"I look upon you now Markiel with as much love as I would whether you would live forever or die in a few decades, as I would anyone, and I feel only joy. Perhaps I will one day miss you, but never will I regret our time together. I do hope that you will be around for long."

This is perhaps why Mithias had lived so long.

[Assistant]
Jacklo didn't seem quite awake yet, and Azai didn't notice his brief awakening so he didn't disturb his rest and just walked away. He didn't want to stay in the office since there wasn't anything to do right now, and Coal wasn't anywhere near. He wanted to see if he would want to visit that mage's parents, Azai kept the address just in case. So he decided to head up to his penthouse and read that tome he got from the mage's basement…

Arriving home, he would always take a close look before entering, it was a slight case of paranoia, but it has been a right one since his list of enemies isn't getting shorter. He confirmed that nothing was out of place and went onwards, his house wasn't the kind that you would open and directly see the main room, there was a small hallway that had a small shoe closet and leading to the main room, he went down on the two steps before entering the main room, and got his jacket off getting comfortable before reading the tome. The tome seemed a bit complex, but it had the right thing for him, and it seemed that it would take some time to comprehend it…


[System]
Basics
Alias: Black Jack
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Alliance: On nobody's side but his own
Power: Superhuman Durability and Elemental Transmutation (ability to change one object into another within reason)

Physical Description

Image:
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 145
Hair: White and kinda wavey
Eyes: Red
Typical Clothing/Equipment: Button up over black v-neck with regular black jeans and combat boots. Occasionally wears a black jumpsuit with red accents with a mask like this

Personality/Attributes

Personality/Attitude: Witty, arrogant, rarely angry, goofy, socially awkward
Skills/Talents: almost inhumanly fast in all aspects, skilled with most weapons
Favourites/Likes: killing, sadism, sex, alcohol, smoking, freedom, favorite weapon is a scimitar
Most Hated/Dislikes: the bastard who stole him from his parents as an infant and tortured him for years.
Goals/Ambitions: to kill all the others and the bastard who tortured him.
Strengths: fast, strong, skilled with most weapons, witty af
Weaknesses: reckless
Fears: dying before he gets his revenge

Additional Notes: Doesn't normally carry weapons on him, uses public transportation, could possibly have STDs, was tortured for 16 years before he escaped, doesn't know who the other victims are but meets them and takes them down on the streets when he finds them.

[User]
Lexa stared blankly at the man as he babbled – well, her version of blank was more like a glare. She... honestly had no idea how to react to him. Because... what? She'd been asked out before, sure, but people who tried were usually less of... whatever this was. After a moment too long of staring back at him she finally opened her mouth.

"Not interested," she said in a flat voice. "You call me that one more time, you're getting thrown through that bookshelf." She nodded to the bookshelf in question behind him, stocked full of hardcover encyclopedias.

[Assistant]
Jack stared at her in surprise and shuddered at her words. Although it was hard to believe that someone of her size and strength could throw him through a bookshelf, he still felt threatened just by the tone of voice she used. This girl was feisty and he appreciated that. No meant no. He hadn't often been turned down and wasn't sure what to do now. "Once again my apologies milady. What is it I can do to convince you to go out to eat with me? Nothing? Alright I'll leave you be and return to the movie, I suppose." Jack turned away, rolling his eyes a little, disappointed that he had failed. He never failed, and if he did he usually just ended up killing the one who had made him fail. But he couldn't kill her, he had no true reason too.

What was there to do now. There was not a soul to comfort him. It was rather frustrating. Then he remembered feeling a pack of cigarettes in his pocket earlier. Yes. He really needed one at this point. Without hesitation, Jack walked out of the book store and pulled out the pack, there were only two left. One for him, and one for... well. Whatever. She wouldn't like him anyway, was it the way he looked? Or was it his social awkwardness that deterred her? WHATEVER. He didn't care, there were more important things to think about. Like how he had forgotten to bring his dufflebag out on the town, luckily for him he always kept a spare hidden away somewhere in the city if he needed to change quickly. The outfit and mask wasn't cheap, but he could get money whenever despite not being a thief he was damn good at thievery.

In the distance, he heard police sirens and wondered what was going on. Probably another old-timer having a heart attack or a cat stuck in a tree. Not his problem. If it was something like, another one of his 'buddies' then it would be his problem. But no, it couldn't have been, too little chaos in the air.

With nothing to light his cigarette with, he wandered back inside and to the counter once again. "Excuse me, Miss. 'I will throw you through that bookshelf over there'. I'd HATE to bother you again." He glanced over his shoulder to make sure none of the fanboys were giving him dirty looks then returned his gaze to the red haired one. "I was wondering if you had a lighter or a match I could use... It's kind of important. Like VERY important actually. Life or death, really."

[User]
An eyebrow quirked up at being called 'milady' of all things. But Lexa was silently relieved when he didn't call her bluff at least, and took a hint. It wasn't that she doubted her ability to bodily throw someone into a bookshelf – but her bosses, while good, kind people, only gave her so much leeway when she ran the shop. She could get away with plenty, but assaulting a customer hadn't quite made the list yet. He walked away after another minute of babbling, and Lexa let out a slow breath. She turned to walk back to the office and found her coffee finished.

Pouring herself a mug, Lexa walked back into the store and took the seat behind the counter. The fanboys were quiet, enjoying their movie. The flirty one had left through the door, standing outside the shop. Lexa heard a flash of siren through the open door before it gently shut. Her lips tightened for a moment. It was a city. Sirens could be heard every day without Trick needing to intervene. Placing her mug of coffee on the counter, she picked up her phone and pulled up the local news sites to see if anything was being reported.

The man from before chose that moment to return to her. Lexa did the slightest of jumps, so engulfed in her search that she didn't even notice him. She blinked up at him in surprise before smothering it with her usual gruffness. She absolutely was not embarrassed. Replaying his words in her mind, she glanced down to the unlit cigarette between his fingers. Looked back up at him. Stared at him in a way that said she was unimpressed.

After a moment, Lexa reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, finely engraved lighter.

"Hope it saves your life. Take it outside and don't burn the place down."

She turned back to her phone, her mouth skewing to the side slightly. It was probably nothing. She didn't need to be there.

(But what if she did? Ever since the public found out about her, it seemed like an invitation for more and more people with bad intentions and extraordinary abilities had been crawling out of the woodwork. And plus the new breed of sickos who only seemed to have numbers for names, and the men who'd gotten away last night… Memories of people screaming, dying, replayed in her head.)

Lexa glanced from her phone back out towards the door. She'd left her gear at home. She didn't have time to dye her hair. It was broad daylight. It was probably nothing.

[Assistant]
Jack thanked her with a nod of his head and took his smoking outside. Standing outside, leaning against the outside wall of the bookstore he smoked his cigarette casually like the total bad ass he felt he was. The tortured one knew that it was only a matter of time before the trouble nearby attracted one of his own. They were naturally attracted to bad things and they hated policemen. With good reason. The cops never did them any favors, some of the cops even tried to stop them from escaping when they did, trying to return them from whence they came. The tortured life. He hated them just as much and wanted them all dead. A cop killed his only real friend in the world. The young man would never forgive them for that.

The man lowered his head, listening intensely. Only a matter of time. In the distance the sirens stopped abruptly and then there was a loud crashing sound. From what he knew about the others, and he knew the survivors rather well now, they had either blasted the car way or thrown it. Only 3 could throw things. Only 9 could cause the car to fly with a blast. "Well darlin," He spoke to himself as if there was a female with him. "That's my cue." A smirked formed across his face as he raised his head to look in the direction the chaos noises had come from. His cigarette resting lazily between his lips. Maybe now I can get my revenge on Trick...

Revenge, it seemed like his only purpose in life. He often thought about what he would do after he destroyed Shirley. No ideas ever came up, was there a life beyond torture, pain and revenge? If there was he couldn't see it. Jack spit the cigarette on the ground and stomped it out with his boot. "Murder awaits."

---

It didn't take long for him to seek out his hiding spot for his spare Black Jack outfit. The hardest part was getting the damn leather jumpsuit on. "DAMN, SHOULD'VE GONE WITH SPANDEX." He cursed under his breath on the rooftop as he hopped on one foot trying to get the outfit on. Once it was on and zipped up all the way he was already exhausted. The man placed his mask over his head and lept off the building, feet pointing downwards arms up.

When he arrived on scene the remaining police officers were hiding behind their squad car and shooting at their attacker. Once they spotted Black Jack they turned their attention to him and started shooting in his direction. "Hey, whoa, hey!" He dodged their bullets but just barely. "I'm kinda sorta here to help you folks." He laughed beneath his mask and walked past them.

"Black Jack, you're under arrest for a book full of first degree murder charges."

"If you can catch me!!" With another chuckle he ran towards the enemy whom he recognized as 9. "Hey baby, did you miss me?" Black Jack stared at the abnormally bland 'comrade' of his. The others were normally so, colorful? Well he guessed he wasn't so colorful either. Black was obviously his thing, duhh.

"Not at all." 9 threw his hands out toward Black Jack and a burst of energy exploded before him, throwing him as well as the cops and their cars back. "If you are here to kill me, I am afraid you are mistaken. I will be doing the killing today." He stared with an unamused expression toward the others.

[User]
Lexa lost attention in the man as he followed her command and walked outside. Her brow furrowed again as she looked back down at her phone. A new headline popped up on the screen. Superhuman Havoc Downtown. The timestamp was from two minutes ago. Cursing to herself, Lexa dropped the phone and pushed herself up. She didn't have time to go back to her apartment and grab her gear. Stupid, she was so stupid for leaving it at home today. She'd just have to make do.

"Tyrell, you're in charge," she announced to the audience as she hurried to the back room. A large, dark hand raised up above their heads in a thumbs up sign as the door swung shut.

Her coworkers were good, trusting people – no one locked their employee lockers. And Emma sure had a thing for black. In a matter of minutes, Trick stood in the little bookstore's back room, in a pair of her own black jeans, a fitted black hoodie, and a long black scarf intricately wrapped to hide her crimson hair and the bottom half of her face.

She needed a weapon. Trick went to the supply closet and pulled out the mop. Shoving off the head, she brought the wooden pole down hard against her lifted knee, splitting it in two. She'd pay for a new one. Spinning the two makeshift weapons in her hands to test her grip, she looked out the window. And then she was gone in a pop.

---

Trick darted through the city, rushing towards the commotion with the help of her teleportation. Her eyes narrowed at what she saw: the man from last night, Black Jack, and one of those numbered bastards who'd been popping up in the city. A group of police officers, determined but clearly terrified at the threat, were aiming their guns at the two.

The Number raised his hands and a pressure wave erupted forth. Black Jack was thrown back, as were the cops. And their cruisers. Eyes widening, Trick sprang into action. In an instant she appeared beside a man thrown in the path of a flying car. In the next, both she and the man were gone, reappearing a short distance to the side.

Trick dropped the cop without ceremony, and was gone again. A muffled pop was the only warning the man with outstretched palms had before he felt jagged, splintering wood pressed hard against his spine. When the cops and other wary onlookers finally processed the scene, their eyes widened. It was Trick, their nighttime guardian (menace?). She was dressed oddly, and didn't have her katana, but there was no doubt it was her. In the daylight.

Trick glared at Black Jack over the man's shoulder, amber eyes flashing in the sun, but her voice was directed at the Number.

"I'm getting sick of you poker deck jackasses tearing up my city. One chance. Stand. Down."

[Assistant]
Black Jack was thrown back along with the cops and cruisers. He used the force from the blow to go into a backflip and land on his feet. "Woohoo! You're my kind of guy, 9, but you already knew that." About that time he noticed that another had shown up and helped out the cops. It was an oddly dressed little vigilante, it was Trick. Before Jack could do or say a thing about her strange get up, she disappeared and reappeared behind 9, jabbing something or other into his back. "You would not attack so brashly if you knew our pain." 9 said in a emotionless tone. "Here, let me show you." The number reached back behind him and gripped the wooden handle piece that she had pressed into his spine.

"9, don't!!" Jack ran to stop him but he was too far away to get there in time. The cops on site just stood bewildered unsure of what to do about the two, make that three, powerful beings that fought before them. If Trick did not teleport or get out of the way, flashes of horrible things would appear before her eyes; visions of the tortures that befell the poker deck named ones. Including 9 and Jack. The visions were too blurry to tell exactly who these people were but it was obvious that terrible things were being done to them, their screams of pain were prominent above any other noises.


[System]
Race (Human or Type of Fae): Wood Nymph
Position (In court if you are a fae, Any fae outside of a court will be under extreme pressure): She's a duchess of the Fall Court
Age: She thinks she's about 5,500 years old.
Personality (Fae type has effect): Some say she should be of the winter court, for there are rumors of her ruthlessness. While she does have her moments, especially when unsuspecting humans find their way into the deepest parts of her woods, she reserves her true wrath on the ones who thinks they can take her forest from her. Otherwise she is serene, and even tempered. She enjoys life, and all that it brings.
Appearance: If she ever puts on a glamour(which she so rarely does), her skin and hair and eyes are the color of her bark. To match current time, she'll usually wear a green sleeveless blouse, a dark fur coat, dark jeans, and black boots. Otherwise, she's either an Ash tree, or in her Fae form, she's green with ivy climbing her body.
Background: Not much is known about Meliae, except that she's inhabited and ruled the Taiga forests for as long as most can remember. She was there long before the humans, at least. She doesn't come to court except when it's required of her, and holds her own court within the deepest parts of her forests. Her territory has been quite cut down, she now only rules parts of Russia, although she now rules them with an iron fist.

[User] Max looked over at her, switching to sitting on the ground, and pulled his knees in, "But... I need to go back," He said, visibly upset, his face contorted into a frown, his eyes full of worry. " I need to be with my mom and dad, my friends..." He then had the worry that maybe some of his friends crossed into the world as well, but put it off. He needed to worry about him for now, so he took a shaky breath in, and said, "Why couldn't I leave? I was running away from here, but as soon as I left, I came right back..." He rubbed the back of his head. If he could figure out why that happened, maybe he could escape.

[Assistant]
"I'm afraid you can't. Walking through the Fae realm does things to a mortal. Things that wouldn't be able to be explained by your science. So I'm afraid you cannot go back." Meliae said, trying to figure out how to explain this to him without freaking out anymore.
"At this point, I either had to take you into my court or you would have died. We are many days from mortal civilization, even with the help of the portals. Food offered from a Fae...it's a contract. In the Fae realm contracts are binding by magic. You cannot leave, so it prevents you from leaving." Meliae tried to explain but she knew she wasn't doing a very good job.

[User] The Fall King looks through the pool before the stone dias. as he watches the nymph struggled with the human boy. How foolish of her to try to be honest, when wonder and amazement could have worked if she had acted quicker. The strong, sharp features crack a sly smile. Gesturing the wind rises, leaves rustling and falling to the many hued carpeted ground below. "You have caught a mortal, tree. One that I shall wish to see. A later date to my Court thou shall come yet. Do not forget to feed more fruits unto thy pet." The wind whispers through the air echoing his words with a eerie echo to the Fae Duchess. He did hope that the fruit would be reversible as the boy could prove useful in his plans. The foolish little Fae had forced a deal, he sits back amused. The poor child would be lost and confused, it would be rather sad if his potential had been wasted. But the boy wast not his- yet. He would come to serve the Fall King in time, slowly the threads would come together and the web would be weaved to hold the great prize he would catch.

[Assistant]
Max frowned, this was all very upsetting, but at the very best it would take time to fix this mess of a situation. Stifling back his tears and sniffling a bit, he looked at Melliae. She had saved him, even if she could have been more honest before giving him the fruit. He'd need to be more careful from this point onward, and consider his actions if he wanted a chance at ever escaping in the future. For now he would play along.

 "It's Ok...." He told her, " I mean, I would have died if you hadn't, just be upfront about these things next time, please?" He asked, standing up and dusting himself off. he look at her and shuddered, still put off a lot by their appearance, but he'd acclimate eventually. " So you mentioned getting me fed?" He asked hopefully as his stomach growled. He'd already taken food from the Fae, so there was no point starving himself.

[User]
"Oh, now I've caught up with you."

 A ponderous voice bellowed from the dense thickets toward the gathered fae and mortal standing amidst the entrance of the fall duchess's 'village'. The great stone giant parts the numerous tress as he slowly but surely steps out into the open. A move that would be far from Orðabók's mind in normal circumstances. But this was not such a normal occurrence indeed.

 His gemstone eyes set upon the poor young boy who was simply bedazzled by the goings on around him, of course, the sight of someone as imposing as a lord of rock couldn't exactly help. Drawing nearer to the group, he attempted to appear as non-threatening as possible, of course, he had vague recollections of the duchess, and one her position would likely at least know of the hermit, so there shouldn't be all that much trouble.

 None of this had particularly eased the golem, no, he was simply too enthralled by the prospect of the mortal's knowledge to worry about the encounter with other fae. With little more than a gesture of greeting to the fall noble, Orðabók leaning close to young Max and spoke in his normal dull tone, "You wouldn't happen to be a human, would you?" Just to be sure.

[Assistant]
Max felt the Earth shake as the Stone giant approached them, which caused him to turn around to check out what was going on. His eyes widened in shock as he saw Orðabók approach them, completely and totally astounded at the fact that a giant rock monster was even real. He looked at Melliae and Katya in hope of some kind of assistance, but then the creature spoke, asking him if he was Human.

 "Um, Y-yes..." He told him, honestly mostly worried about being eaten," But I'm really tough, and probably chewy, so you most definitely wouldn't want to eat me." He added hatilly," And you are?" He asked, scuttling behind Melliae in hope of protection.

[User] Soft feet pattered across the paths to the Summer Court. Aisling gazed about her at the marvel that was the Summer Court, though still she much preferred the Fall. The Fall for all it's twists and turns and shadowy halls, the hall was true unto the being lying within. Lies and deceit held in the light of day, and in night they gleamed with beauty. A basket on one arm was covered with a green shawl she had shed in the warmth of the Court. Pausing before the two guards that sat before the door to the Lord's hall she bid them to take word of her message to the Summer King. As she waited she mussed. Falk- as the Fall King was known- was up to something. Dismissing the Winter King in such a way and now turning to summer. She know her part in this, but not what the over all scheme was. That was what is was with no doubt. For the Fae were glad with their schemes and power struggles. It wasn't so different from the real- excuse her- Mortal Realm, oddly enough. She had told her Lord of a twisted woman who had been on the human news. He probably would pass her- the deranged woman- by as she was too visible.

[Assistant]
The snow covered ground sparkled like diamonds and glitter. Ice crystals hung from the dormant trees branches, and snowflakes floated silently to the ground, like soft feathers. Winter Court was beautiful, cold, and gleaming with fresh snow today. The bright red of the Winterberry bushes that grew around the castle were in magnificent contrast to the white wonderland. As where the glorious Witch hazel trees, whose flowers blazed like little suns in the midst of the everlasting winter that was Marzanna's Court. Her favorite part of the whole Castle was the frosted gardens, and the frozen roses. That was were she was at this moment, in the gardens enjoying the crisp frigid air, admiring the frosted evergreens, and newly bloomed snowdrops.

Marzanna wore a dark Prussian blue gown, that was intricately beaded up the sleeves, and along the hem with black and blue gems. A deep V neckline, and sweeping train made up the rest of the dress. Her black velvet cloak, had raven feathers sewn around the collar, it had been her mothers. Dark colors made up most of her wardrobe. She had gowns, and jewelry from every human era she had been alive for. The one she wore now had been a gift from her father's new wife.

Tonight was the anniversary ball. A celebration of the 50th year since King Haeson's ascended to the winter throne. Every single winter fae was invited, as were the elders, and important persons from the other seasons. This particular ball was quite lavish, as Marzanna had been in charge of the planning. Long ago when she had been a mere countess, she had been known to throw some of the best parties this side of summer.

[User]
Taking a stony finger to his chin, the lord of rock and rubble pondered for a moment. The question was a puzzler for sure, who am I, who am I? The young mortal hadn't even seen the golem for but a moment, and already asking such perplexing twisters. But, since he was somewhat short on time he opted for an easier answer, one that could not possibly reach the fathoms of such a question, "You may know me as the Hermit." the stone giant rasped in his earthen tone.

 "And what would I have the pleasure to call you, young mortal?" He added, all the while barely glancing here and there at the fae of the fall court. Perhaps it was intrusion that he had sprung upon them, but then, he could learn so very much from the human. And thus, Orðabók would live with whatever could come of the encounter.

 Surely these fae had not been keeping this boy as a pet for too long, unlike that ashen girl of the Fall King. And the mighty stone golem wondered of the poor mortality that leads to something so akin to slavery. Would they do the same to the young boy? Could Orðabók allow such to happen? He was a neutral force after all, but something surely didn't feel right to him.

[Assistant]
She could hear them, they had to be a flight away now, if not a little less. She recalled four officers pursuing her, however it was likely they called for backup, just in case. She had ten minutes at least, she had to deal with them and get out of here before their backup arrived. Clearing her mind, she aimed one of her guns at the door, lifting it from the chest area, to the head. The instant the door opened, she fired, the bullet piercing through the skull of the officer stepping through. His body instantly fell, causing the three remaining cops to crouch, giving her time to change to a generator a little further back. Once there, she remained silent, listening to the footsteps of the men. She smirked, they were using standard procedure, spreading wide enough to cast a net, but not too far apart that they couldn't see one another. She knew they'd find her if she stayed hidden, and if she revealed her position, the others would bear down on her position. She knew she was screwed, being backed into a corner like this. If she were to die here, then so be it, but she was going to take at least two more with her. She peered around the side, spotting an officer headed her way. He turned his head away, giving her the chance to lean out and fire again, dropping him easily.

Just as she had expected, the other two started firing in her general direction, causing her to retreat into cover. She popped out every now and then to fire at them, forcing them into cover as well, thus initiating a rooftop shootout. She knew her fate was sealed now, with those two in cover, backup would arrive before long. She sighed, luck was not on her side today it seemed, her career was over. Having no fear of death, she rose out of cover with both guns aimed forward, firing as she ran at the officers. "Is she insane?! Don't kill her!" one said to his partner. It was too late, the bullet passed through the woman's chest, her steps now slowing to a stop and her guns dropping. She looked down at the wound, blood running down her body like a river, a smile forming on her lips. She looked at the men, who seemed to be disturbed by the smile, "I have sung my final song. Ironic...to be killed in such a place, on the day the world first learned my name...enjoy your victory while it lasts..." she said, falling to her knees. Holding her wound, she looked at the officers who approached her, "I swear...I will kill you...both of you...I will find a way...you haven't heard the last...of..." she trailed off, hitting the ground. The air around the city suddenly got colder, especially around her. In an instant, the officers had frozen in place, the woman's body vanished from sight as well. The woman, still barely alive, used her eyes to look around. This was a strange place, she was looking at a landscape that couldn't be physically possible, yet it was there. To her, it looked beautiful, the ice and snow twisted in such horrific yet beautiful ways. If this is what death looked like, then she was content with it, "Beautiful..." she managed to spit out, her eyes slowly closing. She wished she could live just a little longer to enjoy the beauty of this landscape, but such was not her destiny.

[User]
As if he where an angel of death, a dark figure stands over the woman, chuckling "Going to give up now, little one? Let your silly little life end here?" he taunts, daring her- no, Challenging her to stay alive and awake "Laying in the snow?" In the light snow fall the dark gremlin was a perfect contrast to the white and light blue all around, Dark robes, of black and night sky blue cover him, sword at his side

"Perhaps i can show you even More wonders, But rest now, little one, We'll see you yet live...."

[Assistant]
Meliae glanced up at the giant rock in front of her, as a few of her warriors came closer. She held up a hand, halting their movements.
"Do mortals interest you so Hermit? There are billions outside of my forests, I'm sure they'd love to meet you." Meliae said, her words cruel but when one doesn't pick a side, it tends to earn them enemies instead of friends.
"You may call him Max, if you feel it necessary to speak long enough to call him anything." Meliae stated, answering for the boy before he got himself in trouble.