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

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

Finger Claws:

Curved Daggers:

Combat Outfit:

Dresses for Two Towers/Return of the King

Wing-Cloak

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[User]
"An Orc stronghold in the far north of the Misty Mountains", the blonde confirmed to their thoughts. "I fear that there is something more to their simple attack on Laketown", Legolas explained as he looked back at the mountain, before he turned back to them. "I ride north. Will you come with me?", he asked them, feeling the need to.

-------------

Meanwhile,

The group was almost at the strong household of Durin's Folk. The whole way, Saeril and Fili only wondered if Yavanna would be okay, but they had to trust her in Legolas, like how they had wanted him to. Having to walk through the desolated plains, the mountain was much larger up close than how it was far away. The ruins left by the dragon were the first to spot: golden walls turned to ash.

Saeril looked around the now desolated mountain as soon as they entered the almost-destroyed front gate; like everyone, she had wondered, and had become worried about the aftermath of waking up such a beast. It was quiet, a little too quiet; only tiny pebbles rolling at their feet. As silent stepping came from the she-elf, one wouldn't even know she was there.

[Assistant]
Yavanna could see the worry in his eyes. Feeling a dread in her stomach. She wondered what Azog and Bolg's clan were planning. "Of course." The young she-elf agreed, to go with him. She wondered where he was riding to "Where to?" she asked. But she had a feeling, what he was about to say next, almost wanting to take back her question.
Tauriel just nodded, as he asked if she'd ride with him too. "I will." she said. Whatever he wanted to find out, she wanted to be there and help. Plus, it'd give them some time on the road to get to know the young she-elf.

---

As they reached the mountain. Trecking up hill, Kili looked around. Seeing the city of Dale as they had passed it. Kili thought about the young Princess they left behind. Hoping, that she would be happy, with the one she had feelings for. Hopefully, she would be safe.
But the sight of the damaged front gate, and the silence. Worried him. "Hello?" Kili called out.
"Bombur? Bifur? Anyone?" Bofur called out loudly. Their voices echoed through the vastness of the Mountain. But silence...until a few moments later they heard.
"Wait! Wait! No...Stop...stop..." Bilbo yelled as he run towards them. "You need to leave, we all need to leave!" he said looking at them, as he stopped in front of them.
"But...we just got here." Bofur looked confused.
"I've tried talking to him...but he won't listen..Thorin! Thorin...Thorin...he's been down there for days." Bilbo gestured down behind him; where the treasure hoard was kept. "He doesn't eat...he barely sleeps. He's not been himself. Not at all. It's this place." Bilbo said gesturing to the mountain as a whole. He was worried about the downfall Thorin had, since they had been here. "I think a sickness lies on him."

[User]
"To Gundabad", Legolas answered the youngest she-elf, before seeking out two horses. Helping Yavanna board the first horse, he boarded on right after her, just sitting in front. Knowing that Tauriel will follow with the second horse, he took charge, having to ride past a few of the common people.

--------

Sickness?, this was the only word that made Saeril think of one thing: dragon sickness; gold lust. This was bad, and she only hoped that this wasn't what Bilbo was referring to. As the Hobbit went on, nobody noticed Fili looking over his shoulder, but the she-elf was quick to notice him running away, down the stairs. "Fili, wait!", she called to him, already dreading what he will be witnessing from their king, and her friend.

Going down the stone, spiral staircase, Fili gazed in astonishment at what was before him: mountains and mountains of golden treasure all over the room, covering the floor, and up to the stairs. Gaping at the great load, Fili did not move from his spot when he got there. The tales were true...

Following Fili to the treasure hoard at the top of the stairwell, all the she-elf could do was gaze in shock at the mountain's enormous wealth. "The great treasure of Durin", she breathed out.

[Assistant]
And there it is. Yavanna thought to herself, the place she thought he might say. As they found two horses. Yavanna got on with his help...as he sat in front of her. Her arm lightly wrapped around his waist; so she could hold onto him. Pushing the hood back. Yavanna let the wind blow through her Dark Raven hair.

Climbing onto the second horse. Tauriel soon rode after Legolas and Yavanna. Soon catching up with them, she rode side by side with their horse.

---

"What sickness?" Kili asked confused. Before Bilbo could answer, Bilbo saw Fili running past them "Fili...Fili..." he called after him, running after him. The rest of the company that arrived, followed the young Dwarf. "Wait...one's of you is missing." Bilbo said, as he saw that the young Princess Yavanna was not here.

Kili run after his brother, down the spiral stair. He stopped beside his elder brother and his God-Mother. Staring at the enormousness heaps of Treasure. Thorin was still walking among the treasure hoards. Awe-struck almost. "Gold...Gold Beyond Measure." Thorin muttered. "Beyond Sorrow and Grief. Behold, the great treasure hold of Thror!" Kneeling down...Thorin picked up a red gem, before tossing it to Fili. "Welcome, my sister's sons!" he said looking at Fili and Kili. "To the Kingdom of Erebor." Thorin's voice seemed to echo.

Bilbo watched Thorin with great concern...he was not himself, that was for sure. Kili looked at his God-mother and Fili; he never seen his uncle act like this. Thorin then noticed there was someone not among them. "We're one member short." he said with narrowed eyes.


[System]
GUESS WHO FINALLY FINISHED (ONE OF) HER CHARACTER(S)?!
Character Type: Protagonist

Age: 16

Gender: Female

Appearance: Standing at exactly 5'3", Minzy's kind of short: as a matter of fact, sometimes people walk into her because they don't see her! She looks sort of young for her age, but tries not to let that bother her too much.

Clothing Style: Minzy's a big fan of the whole "shorts-and-sweatshirt" look. Actually, she's rarely seen wearing anything else. She typically likes cargo shorts, because they have lots of pockets for her to put things in. Other than that, she also has a belt for her Pokeballs.

Personality: A rather intensely bright and cheerful girl, Minzy has always been a little overwhelming. She's never had much trouble making friends, but people tend to have difficulties hanging out with her for extended periods of time. Still, Minzy tries to be friendly to everyone, and often ends up serving as an overly-enthusiastic mediator in disputes.

As the only girl in her family, she's always been a bit of a tomboy, and while she secretly likes dressing up, her more feminine interests have been somewhat stifled by her upbringing. She wishes she had a great sense of fashion and knew how to do things like wear make-up and walk in high-heels, but unfortunately, the only thing she can do that's even vaguely feminine is cook. To be honest, she's not too great at that, either, but, well, she tries her best.

Likes: Minzy loves sugary foods and sweets in general. Promising her sugary treats is an excellent way to bribe her into doing something. She especially likes parfaits of all kinds.

Her favorite type of Pokemon is the fairy-type, though she would hate to admit it. She loves how cute they are, and she'd love to own one, but her brother would probably give her hell for how "girly" they are.

Her favorite Pokemon are Clefairy and the rest of its evolutionary line.

Dislikes: Minzy dislikes spicy food. She hates the way it burns her mouth, and so she goes out of her way to avoid it. Bug-type Pokemon are also a bit of a sore spot for her-- it's not like she's afraid of them, per se, but they make her twitch, and she just generally dislikes them.

Hobbies/Talents*:
- Minzy, as the younger sibling and unwilling accomplice of an insatiable prankster, grew up running away from the aftermaths of dozens of failed pranks. Angry old ladies armed with swinging handbags, infuriated school teachers, random and strangely muscular people on the street-- Minzy's dealt with them all. She's therefore an impressively speedy runner, and can outrun most people... and Pokemon, even! These experiences have also made her very good at hiding.
- Minzy is also a surprisingly good liar. Having had to lie her way out of a good few sticky situations, Minzy can lie convincingly to even the most intimidating of burly security guards.
- Minzy is exceptionally good at rock-paper-scissors, and will win almost every time. Why? No one's quite sure.

Past/History:
Minzy grew up in Sinnoh with her father and her older brother, Andy. She's never met her mother, but that doesn't really bother her too much. Her father, Joseph, really had no idea how to raise a girl, so Minzy grew up very much a tomboy. Nevertheless, she had an altogether happy childhood.

Minzy has always looked up to her older brother, Andy. A talented battler and an unfortunately gifted prankster, Andy was a troublemaker from birth, and most of the time, Minzy was his unwilling accomplice. As a result, Minzy spent much of her childhood running away and hiding from the angry victims of her older brother's pranks. When Andy started his Pokemon journey, leaving Minzy behind, Minzy had been torn between missing her brother and, to her own surprise, relief.

On the one hand, she loved her brother, and being without him was like having a limb missing. On the other… not being thought of as "Andy Quinn's younger sister" was kind of refreshing. In the two years between the start of Andy's journey and the start of Minzy's own Pokemon journey, Minzy discovered that she rather liked being her own person. She eventually decided to start her journey in the Giga region, to get out from under her brother's shadow once and for all.

Pokemon:
Tynamo/"Frey"/Male/Tackle, Thunderwave, Spark, Charge Beam/Levitate/None

Family:
- Joseph Quinn, her father. An experienced competitive battler who was born in Sinnoh and is currently traveling in Unova, now that both his children have left home. He's been fascinated by the Unova region since he obtained an Eelektross from a friend. He gave Minzy the first Tynamo that he managed to breed from an egg as her leaving present.
- Andy Quinn, her older brother. A competitive battler who is currently participating in the Sinnoh League and hopes to challenge Sinnoh's Elite Four. Andy has always been an incredibly talented battler (and, unfortunately, an incredibly talented prankster), and so Minzy decided to travel to the Giga region in order to get out from under his shadow.

[User]
Minzy blushed, scuffing her sneakers against the floor. Okay, so her application had been a little late… or, well, a lot late. She probably should have thought things out a little better. "Um… sorry…" she said sheepishly, and then shuffled over to pick up a Pokeball. Without even stopping to think, she reached out and took the one with Squirtle in it. She'd always liked water-types, after all.

Okay, Pokedex next. A fancy-looking guy (so pink! And… was that… a Cleffa?) had just walked in, and helped himself to one, so she figured she might as well do the same. She came over and tucked one into her pocket. With that done, she figured she might as well be useful, so she grabbed a big handful and started helping to distribute them. One for the young-looking girl, one for the shy boy, one for the boy who had helped the girl off the floor, and one for the boy in the corner who was still looking somewhat shell-shocked about the whole situation…

Somewhat uncertain about what to do next, she decided that she might as well socialise. After all, there were a ton of new trainers in this room-- they could be her rivals! Her allies! Her friends!

She'd always rather liked making friends. Smiling, she bounced over to the tall boy who had yet to move from his position in front of the door and stuck out her hand for him to shake. The professor hadn't wanted to shake her hand, and had actually pretty much ignored her, but that was okay! Maybe this kid would want to make friends with her!

"Hi!" she beamed. "I'm Minzy. Sixteen years old, from Jubilife City in Sinnoh! Great to meet you!"

[Assistant]
Amelia

Amelia simply turned redder when Sigurd patted her on the end. When she finally did look up, she looked a bit like a tamato berry. Or maybe a cheri berry, whichever was redder.
"A... Amelia. Amelia Averyonna. And this is Litwick." She mumbled, just loud enough for Sigurd to hear her. She took his offered hand and got to her feet just before Minzy handed her a Pokedex, which she took quietly. She was completely confused by this point. All she wanted was some food, or something to drink at least. But with so many people here, she was too afraid to ask.

Her stomach decided to speak for her though, as it let out a loud rumble, making her look at the ground in embarrassment again.

Joshua

Joshua was relaxing on a bench outside of the Laboratory. He was dressed in his usual cloths, minus the tie of course. He only wore that for formal occasions and he absolutely hated it. Stupid neck-strangulation devices. Sighing to himself, he waited for the first of the newbie trainers to come out, just to catch a glimpse of them. If a battle ensued... well, it would be a very brief relief from his current boredom.

[User]
Lucas slid out of the doorway as more people arrived. First a girl wearing cargo shorts and a sweatshirt, then a very flamboyant guy. Meanwhile, the professor spoke up telling everyone there to take a pokedex and pokeball containing a starter, in a fairly... brisk manner, to put it nicely. Lucas hadn't expected this in the slightest. The professor didn't even seem to care who was who in the room, so grabbing a pokedex and starter wouldn't be problematic, but still, it felt a bit like stealing. However, the two would really help him in the future.

Not having a concrete answer, Lucas looked down to the mudkip, hoping for some help. In response, the mudkip looked over towards the pokeballs, back at him, towards the pokedexes, and back at him again, giving a small nod. Lucas nodded back, his decision made. However, just as he was about to head over to the supplies, the last girl to walk in walked towards him. Well, more like bounced. Lucas's train of thought veered off course as she handed him a pokedex and stuck a hand in his direction explaining who she, Minzy, was. In situations like these, it was standard to shake hands and reply, right? At least, that's what Lucas had seen people do when meeting others. Sticking out his hand hesitantly, he took a hold of Minzy's hand and shook it. The motion and grip of the handshake felt weird to him.

"Um... hi. I'm Lucas. Fifteen years old. Um... great to meet you too." Lucas didn't really know how he should reply, so he just spoke in the same way Minzy had. He felt a nudge on his leg before he did anything else. Realizing that he should introduce his partner, he spoke up again. "Oh, and this is Skip!"

[Assistant]
Minzy stared. He was younger than her? Oh, but he was so much taller than her! She practically had to crane her neck to look him in the eye. She'd never have guessed!

He certainly was being very polite, but he also looked kind of uncomfortable. He seemed to be eying her hand like it was a dead fish, so she let go of him hastily. Didn't want to scare her new friend off, after all.

Lucas's Mudkip was pretty cool looking, too. Lucas had introduced him as Skip, so she knelt down and patted him on the head. The Mudkip's skin felt smooth, and a little slimy, but it was nothing Minzy hadn't felt before. Once, her brother had convinced her to put a Tympole down someone's back, and her hands had been so slimy afterwards that she'd had to wash them, twice!

"Aw," she cooed. "He's so cool!"

She gestured at her Tynamo, floating around her head. "This is Frey! He's pretty young and he has a hard time controlling his electricity, so I wouldn't touch him just yet, though. Oh, and I picked up a Squirtle just now! Not sure what to call him, though. At least, I think it's a him!"

Oh, no. She was rambling again, wasn't she? Minzy was unfortunately well aware of her tendency to be slightly overwhelming, so she took a step back. Maybe it would be better to give this kid some space, so she didn't freak him out before they'd even known each other for ten minutes.


[System]
Hector is 5'11" tall and has long, dark hair which reaches his shoulders. Although he often went to the gym with a friend, when he was on earth he lived a very sedentary lifestyle and didn't control his diet. He was overweight and had poor posture, but since coming to Alma Terra he has burned off his fat and quickly built muscle, straightening his spine and giving him a commanding presence, albeit not a graceful one. He is now only 195lbs, much of it muscle.
Age: 17

Pre-Transport Story: Most of Hector's peers considered him intelligent, in fact they would be surprised to know that he was an underachiever in high school, only doing the bare minimum to pass. He was born into a normal American household, but it didn't stay that way for long. His family had its problems and his parents split up.

Hero Object: The Lightning Rod, as seen in the above image.

[User]
Earlier that day, Outside of the capital

Just off of the main road, hidden away in a small copse of trees were a group of men and women watching the gate. "Are you sure you have to do this Anthony?" One of the rebels said, her accent and the way she pronounced his name making it sound like 'Antony' "I'm positive, and if i don't go Gaius will call me a dishonorable coward." He said. "All of this skulking around is dishonorable, but we shall never refuse a summon when the horn calls we come. And perhaps we can find a peaceful end to our conflict." Gaius said, seemingly speaking from everywhere and nowhere all at once.
"Well i don't know the man, but he can't be good if he let his land fall into this state, and let people outside the walls die."
"Perhaps he does not have enough men to fight."
"You and I both know that is not the problem, and besides from what little memories you have you've beat back entire armies with less."
"Did i? I can't seem to recall."
Anthony just shook his head, and adjusted his gear waiting for a way to enter the city, and it came in the form of a retinue of men lead by someone in heavy armor, even from where they sat they could hear him as he addressed the guards acting very much like a king, but to Anthony he was just another loud mouthed fool peacocking for his gathered men.

But then the man pulled out a rod and a single bolt of lightning came down and struck it. Startling the guards and the horses of his men, Anthony took back what he thought about the man peacocking whoever he was had a hero object and the power to back it up. "Go now, under the carts." Gaius urged him, but he did not require it before he knew it, he was moving as quickly and as silently as he could taking advantage of the momentary chaos caused by the bolt. He managed to get under one of the supply wagons, and hang onto the bottom of it. When the wagons were a good distance away he let go dropping into the street getting his green cloak all muddy not that anyone would notice seeing as the cloak was all dirt, mud, and field patched anyways. With the caravan firmly out of sight, he disappeared into the crowds of the city.

Later that day, the palace
Anthony didn't linger for very long, instead going straight to the palace and scouting it out. He waited for what felt like ages for the right moment but in reality it was only a few hours. He resigned himself to entering through the front door, approaching the guards they looked at him curiously. "You look familiar." One of them said, and reached for his sword. "I left the party for some fresh air, perhaps you saw me enter?"
"No, I could of sworn i saw your face on one of the wanted posters."
"You must be mistaken."
"I'm not mistaken, you're that rebel!"
"Whatever you do don't fight them."
The guards grabbed Anthony by the collar and pulled him to the ground. "Nice, try traitor." The other said and dragged him into the palace. The nobles turned their gazes to the guards dragging in this scruffy rebel by the collar of his tunic, they slammed him to the ground in front of the king. "This rebel was trying to sneak in through the front gate M'lord." And with a bow and a swift kick to the ribs to a fallen Anthony the guards left the room. "You didn't fight them I'm very proud of you Anthony." Gaius said, "Tell that to my ribs." He said aloud, and looked to the king. "You going to have my head right here, or you going to have the courtesy to offer a chair to a guest?" He said, staring the king right in the eye from the floor unflinching even with the dull pain in his ribs.

[Assistant] Nolan frowned as the guards brought in someone they refereed to as a rebel and shoved him before the king. Frankly he was surprised that he hadn't received the same treatment, he had been under the impression that killing nobles tended to do that. Apparently no one liked the ones he killed any more than the mistreated peasants they ruled over. Or they were to scared to do anything about it, he thought cynically. Sighing he polished off what remained off the food on his plate and left ignoring the slob next to him and was about to walk over to the king when he noticed someone waving a staff around and looking incredibly awkward. Sighing he walked over to the nervous person and said, "Come on then, the king will want to see us sooner or later might as well make it now." and then proceeded to do just that, walk over to the king. The other nobles of course parted to make way for him like he was the plague and he heard several whispers of "murderer", and "assassin", he simply ignored them nearly as disdainful as Loden. As he neared the king he respectfully bowed rather than fully kneeling like was no doubt proper, "I would say I hope you don't think of me as to forward but I really don't care, so why exactly are we here?" Loden sniffed haughtily, "Doesn't look like much of a king to me."

[User]
Robyn stays toward the back of the banquet, leaning up against the wall. Dressed in her dark clothing, she had hoped that no one would notice her, but she has already had multiple walk up to her and congratulate her. As they come and go, the swords whisper to her and she cringes, not wanting to give into their blood lust. She does not understand why they call them Heroic Objects, when these swords at anything but. She stares at her boots when suddenly there's a commotion across the hall. Her head flies up and she sees a young man being dragged by guards into the banquet. They throw him at the feet of the king and she lurches of the wall, looking toward them. The man looks faintly familiar, but she does not know where from. The man makes the comment and Robyn bristles angrily. She stalks over to them.

"You may want to show a little more respect, sir," she says angrily. "This man could end your life and I can already see in your eyes that you do not want to die." Her fingers itch to go to her swords, but she steadies herself. She then realizes what she has done and turns to the king, bowing before him. She kneels to one knee, placing her fist on the floor. "I am sorry, Lord King. I must have lost my head."

You cannot lose your head, for I am always in it. Yūkan'na, her katanas, whisper to her. She swallows hard and ignores them.

[Assistant]
After the Heroes made their entrance several were immediately trapped by eager ladies in waiting and barons hoping a friend of the Hero might earn them a place higher up in the food chain of politics. The food and drink were distributed liberally with plenty of both for the crowd. One hero made his way to the king and gave a formal voice of thanks. This seemed to please the king who smiled. "It is I who should thank you young Hero. Please a savior need not kneel. It is us who are in your debt." The voice betrayed the Kings appearance which was one of an older man. Instead his voice, like the hero object he possessed, rang out loud and powerful even echoing some as those around him drew quiet.

The reason for silence seemed to multiply after a group of guards pulled a young man forward. The face now recognized by many as the one on the wanted posters. The mans name was unknown and he was simply known as a bandit. Since his attacks on caravans both traders and the kings own he had been getting more and more recognition. When the man is thrown in front of the King he turned to the bandit and frowned.

"It would seem we have lost our manners when hosting this hero..." His voice was low and threatening to the guards. They quickly started to defend their actions pulling out a poster, but were quickly silenced by a wave of the Kings hands. "I pardon all acts against my seal this man has committed." There was no murmur from the guards. Instead silent nodding. The King then walked over and pulled the young man up onto his feet. "It would be wise to learn you are not back home playing a protagonists journey. Learn to adapt instead of create more chaos. Not knowing the larger picture can make you the bringer of disaster." This was said in a high whisper.

The mood was now dapper and the King quickly signaled for the band to play bringing life back to the party. "My captain has informed me that you all come from the same home. It is understandable that you all have much to catch up on. I too would like to hear of how you came to be chosen as a hero." The King was again standing with his strong voice and aged body. Still his eyes seemed to twinkle like that of a boy in a candy store.

[User]
Sean Evans,
Outside the Capital

The Lord of the realm assigned twenty men to accompany Sean on his summons to the capital. They traveled on horseback under the cloud covered sky. Perhaps we should move quicker… The daylight is all but gone for this day, the moon is coming round - wouldn't you agree?, Sean heard the voice of the nameless ring insert itself into his thoughts. "I wouldn't want to tire the men by having them move faster. We have already been traveling since noon." We are likely to be late, many have already arrived. Sean was a suspicious as to how the ring knew such a thing, but he figured he wouldn't bother with it, the ring was likely to give it's usual reply - 'I do not know what you are talking about.' - the ignore all future mention of it.

After many hours the gates to the capital were in sight. Ah, the capital. It has been many moons. The ring seemed to be reminiscing. The clopping of hooves echoed as they made the transition from gravel to cobblestone roads. The moon was high in the sky by this point and the clouds seemed to not have moved at all. We are most certainly late. The ring maintained its calm demeanor. We must find ourselves an audience with the king - there is likely a gathering of the heroes.

The clopping of hooves suddenly ceased. We must have arrived. The ring seemed to be relatively satisfied. "Captain Heinsworth. Why have we stopped?" Sean road to the front of the guard.

"They're approaching us, my lord." Heinsworth steadied his steed.

"Who are you?" One of the three guards, who were approaching, called to Sean and his guard.

"We are the honor guard from Rathe, escorting the bearer of a Hero Object." Heinsworth called back.

The city guards were close enough to see by this point. They carried torches and one a banner. At the mention of the phrase 'Hero Object' they turned and began discussion silently. They turned back, "May we see the Hero Object for confirmation?"

"Of course!" Sean rose his staff so they may see it and the glowing stone atop of it. A glowing, blue, mocking bird fluttered about for a few seconds.

"My lord, please come this way - the king is expecting you.

At the Banquet Hall

Sean had arrived later than the rest and so, hadn't had a chance to make his way to his room - he was given a chance to change his garments to a more formal attire. He was then positioned behind a door, staff in hand, leading to the banquet hall. The other object bearers will be behind other doors.

"That would make sense." Sean realized something the other day, but hadn't brought it up yet. "When you told me that I was destined to be here, you refused to elaborate... Is this it then?"

The voice remained silent. After a while, it spoke. When you get out, try to make the king's acquaintance. The ring had ignored him, it was as he had expected it to happen.

He could hear a muffled voice from the other side of the door. It then opened and the king, himself, introduced all of the object bearers. Sean stepped through the door and joined the party.

[Assistant] Nolan's brow furrowed in response to the king's words. They had all come from the same place? Then someone else must have vanished from that field trip, he turned to examine the black-suited women more closely, it was clear now. The year spent in this world had changed her but now he could see that if she came from the same place as him she must be Robyn Silverman, the super-smart girl who was always reading. And the only girl he had a crush on but was to embarrassed to ask on a date. Loden hissed angrily, "This is no time for your wasteful emotions to occur!" Nolan colored slightly but it quickly went away and he hissed back "Shut up, this is no time for your spiteful and suspicious words either," Nolan sensed a sulky silence from Loden but refused to say anything else, luckily as far as he knew no one could hear Loden but him. Although he was positive that the women was Robyn he still had to make sure so he asked her, "Would you perhaps be Robyn Silvermna?" he asked somewhat nervously. He wasn't sure whether he wanted the answer to be yes or no and he didn't know how he would respond anyway.


[System]
G E N T L E
The humans called us monstrous, so monsters are what we became.

B A S I C S

---
AGE

128

RACE

Minotaur

CLASS

Cleric/Barbarian

OCCUPATION

Lay Brother of the Temple of Apollokeos

ORIGINATES FROM

Achea

IF OUTSIDE TORVELT

The Human Republic of Achea is a loose collection of city states far to the South-West of Torvelt. The climate is hot, and the terrain mountainous, though the people have risen to the challenge of taming such an arid land, becoming famed for their exports of grapes, olives, gold, and marble. The Achean's stand proud of their achievements, proclaiming that their society is the greatest in all the wide world, pointing to their democracies, philosphies, music and art as evidence of this, though it is whispered in courts around the lands that the prosperous country wouldn't be half as impressive as it is if it wasn't for the broken backs of the monstrous slaves it has all been built upon.

P H Y S I C A L A T T R I B U T E S

---

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION

Large even by Minotaur standards, Gentle stands taller than eight-and-a-half feet, over nine if you included the tips of his gently curving horns, which you probably should when measuring a Minotaur. He's broad too, as the 'proverbial' bull in fact, and hasn't he heard that one more than once since coming to Torvelt. His once bulging muscles and steely thews are running to fat a little in his old age and relative indolence, but he still possesses the kind of physique that would give even the most confidant pitfighter cause to pause.

To his intense consternation his lustrous black pelt is being invaded by unsightly streaks of iron-grey. Swirling blue-grey patterns are tattoeed across his arms, shoulders, chest and back, intricate patterns of some hidden meaning which Gentle hasn't shared with anyone since arriving in Torvelt. Age has also stolen some of his vim, and the spring from his step, but his hands are still strong and his horns still sharp. It will do, he tells himself.

STRENGTHS

* Physically powerful
* Experienced combatant
* Access to divine magic
* Rough wisdom

WEAKNESSES

* Large and heavy
* Moderate rheumatoid arthritis
* Fading eyesight
* Rage

P S Y C H O L O G I C A L A T T R I B U T E S

---

PERSONALITY

Pragmatic – Melancholy – Ponderous – Wistful – Studious – Mercurially violent (though working very hard not to be)

SEXUALITY

Pansexual

FEARS

* Heights
* Deep, fast moving waters
* Large canines
* Small, enclosed spaces
* The ghosts of his past

GOALS

To find the prince, stop the Fog, and achieve personal salvation.

S K I L L S

---

Labyrinth Recall

He can perfectly recall any path that he has taken.

Great Weapon Fighting

Perhaps unsurprisingly giant bull-men are pretty good at swinging large, sharp pieces of metal with the intent of hurting people. Who knew?

Sense of Smell and Hearing

A Minotaur's sense of smell and hearing is several times more advanced than that of a humans. Gentle has found himself relying on his more and more since his eyes started failing him.

G E A R

---

ITEMS ON PERSON

* Heavy iron bracers
* Travellers pack (sleeping roll, tinder box, dried rations etc)
* Icon of Apollokeos (Small golden pendant featuring a rising sun over a river)

WEAPONS

* Large wooden post (Functions as a quarterstaff/club)
* Great Sword

H I S T O R Y

---

The Minotaur known only as Gentle first walked into Torvelt about fifteen years ago, with nothing more than the clothes on his frame and a rolled bundle of leather upon his back. From there he wound a slow and gradual path towards Koprust, eventually arriving in the capital city and taking on a slew of odd jobs, seemingly happy with working hard manual labour for minimal pay, simple food and somewhere dry to sleep. On those rare occasions that he was approached by those not intimated by his monstrous visage he was found to be polite, but distant, seemingly happy to nurse his ghosts in solitude.

He eventually found himself working for the Abbott of the Temple of Clean Waters, a holy place that venerated Apollokeos , Lady of Dawn and New Beginnings. Gentle quickly fell into life at the Temple, becoming a lay brother and settling in for what he imagined would be a life of quiet contemplation and honest labour.

The God's, it seemed, had other plans.

He'd had nightmares for as long as he could remember, horrible and twisted visions from his past that tourtured him nightly without reprieve. However one night, when the horror had reached its zenith, he found salvation. The Lady Apollokeos visited him, in all her golden splendour, and explained that his redemption was in reach. She tasked him with joining the quest to find the Prince, and that through that labour he might just find the peace he so desperately desired.

When Gentle awoke he thought the dream no more than that, the fantasy of a tired mind, but later that day he met a man who introduced himself as Minoas, the fabled absent father of the Minotaur race. Minoas reinforced Apollokeos commands, urging Gentle to join the quest before disappearing.

One visit from a God he could ignore. Two would have been pushing it. Collecting his belongings and making his farewells, he made his way towards thee castle.

[User]
---

AONÉ INALOR

---

It wasn't long before the small party began their travels, Aoné much more at ease now that they had begun. She wasn't particularly in a hurry, not that what they were doing wasn't important and time was certainly of the essence, but she hadn't been blessed with the greatest patience nor the ability to stand by and do nothing whilst pursuing a goal. Both of which had estranged her from her family many years ago, and now she could sense those unwanted feelings creeping up on her again as she stood among this group of strangers. She hadn't said much in their short time together as they introduced themselves, save for the moments she had to, but she honestly preferred it that way. Knowing herself, the elf knew with the way the conversation had been going, she would've just caused trouble; however, it would've been funny had she.

Now that the other half-elf, Imalessa, had received a new bow, an honest mistake of coming here without it, they had no more reasons holding them back. Aoné wasn't certain about how she felt toward the huntress, she respected her loyalty to the forest however vocal she was about it, and she didn't seem like someone who'd get in her way lest their tempers clash, other than that, she seemed like someone she could hang around given the time. The term "friends" would be taking it a step too far though.

When it came to the other members of the party, Aoné could say she felt indifferent toward them. Not in any negative way, she just needed more time, although she did especially enjoy Gentle who managed to intrigue her the most, purely by the irony of his name. As far as she knew, minotaurs were an angry race; temperamental and ferocious. But judging by the one beside her, she'd have to look into it more. Perhaps she was wrong.

As for Brynan...she was something else. Probably would've been fine taking on the task herself if a group wasn't required. Not that Aoné disagreed, just that she would have to keep an eye on her. To make sure she didn't do anything reckless to get the rest of them hurt.

---

Luckily for her, horseback riding had been something she was taught from a young age, along with traveling for long periods of time, Aoné's trip to "Mudshit" or wherever was made a lot easier. Along with the essentials, she had managed to grab some medicines and herbs, as well as her journaling book, that was stashed away in a small satchel she carried on her horse. The rain had never ceased as they journeyed, only making her more irritable as her attempts to keep herself dry proved futile. And though light was fading pretty quickly, her darkvision proved useful as she was still able to see.

Not too soon after, just as the rain had come to a light drizzle, the caravan in front of her slid to a stop in the mud. Both horses had sensed something and were now freaking out, Aoné struggled to take back control. At first the noise came. And then the putrid smell. Looking to the source, still steadily to maintain her grip on the reins she already knew what enemy lay ahead.

"Trolls! Ready yourselves!"

Damned fucking trolls.

Hopping down and grabbing her satchel, she quickly moved to the rear of the group. Knowing she wouldn't be of any use up front, she prepared for any possible injuries they would suffer.

[Assistant]
---

Solveig Forgeheart

---

Rather enjoying the new company, Solveig probably seemed the most nonchalant about marching to his doom. In fact, after they had left Koprust Solveig was obnoxiously whistling as they began to travel to this 'Mudshit'. Apart from the butting of heads between Gentle and Brynan, the rest of the group seemed to be rather introverted or at least withdrawn. Everybody had their secrets for sure, but the Dwarf would've preferred if everyone else weren't quite as reserved. Especially the Dragonborn. Ah well, beggars can't be choosers. Regardless of whether the rest appreciated his loud whistling, nothing brought Dwarves together like a bit of light-hearted rhythm. Perhaps it wasn't time to bust out a mining or drinking song but perhaps the theory could work here too.

As rain began to pour, Solveig popped the collar up of his jacket more. He didn't have a hood so his hair and beard were starting to get drenched. However, Solveig kind of liked it. There wasn't any rain to speak of back at Tharum Kholdur, at least if you wasn't a Mountain Guard who watched the borders. Sometimes water would drip down but nothing like this. It was kind of relaxing. The tiny pitter patter of droplets reminded him of pickaxes striking the rocky earth of the Mountain. It was comfort.

That was when a potent stench wafted over the party. Solveig held his nose as his face scrunched up. "Gentle! Please tell me that's not what Minotaur shite smells like!" He exclaimed as he tried to wave the smell away. However, the playful jab at Gentle was overshadowed by the call from Naldir.

"Trolls! Ready yourselves!"

Solveig turned on his heels to the direction of the hollering creatures. He watched as Stur was one of the first to step forward, beginning to draw a battle line. With a grin and a hearty laugh, Solveig joined as he pulled out his prized knuckledusters from his pockets. Punching his own fists together making clanging sounds that rang out, Solveig joined the large human's side with glee. Finally it was time for a punch-up!

"RIGHT THEN YA BASTARDS! COME GET A TASTE OF DWARVEN STRENGTH!!!"


[System]
Runan Isles Savior Corps

---

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

Character Info

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

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

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

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

Character Info

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

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

She had no idea.

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

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

Character Info

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

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

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

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

Character Info

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

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

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

Character Info

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

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

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

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

[User]
Dahlia gasped quietly when the eyepatch fell away. She'd never seen beneath it either, never felt the need to know what it looked like, never much wanted to. But she did suddenly realize that she'd never asked what had happened. Now that she knew about the water, and she was seeing the telltale signs of a growth outbreak, it made perfect sense.

Every last trace of bitterness within her evaporated in an instant, burned away in the heat of something much stronger. She clutched the sheets, felt her new fingers squeeze so hard they clicked. With every word Quinn spoke, every sick revelation that came with it, Dahlia grew angrier. Her gut twisted in disgust, not at the ruinous state of her eye, but at the implication of its ruining.

Dahlia had killed monsters. She had killed people. She had never wished violence on anyone.

She wished it now.

With a small struggle, Dahlia sat up again, met Quinn's eye and prayed she understood the fury in her own wasn't meant for her, because she could not contain it.

"It didn't," she said, composure shaken. "It did not have to happen. They made it happen. They hurt you, because they're awful, horrible people, and they will never hurt you again."

Like Quinn were a cave, Dahlia's rage resonated within her, and something deep inside echoed it back. Horrible. Unfair. Monsters. Takers. But the longer she looked at Dahlia the more that feeling settled. The more it urged her to believe those words. Believe she was safe, now.

She got the sense that trust was foreign to it. All the same, it wanted Quinn to trust her sister.

[Assistant]
Quinn was almost knocked over by the sheer level of anger pouring out of Dahlia's face and the venom in her voice. There was a heart-attack second where she was absolutely certain that Dahlia was going to yell at her, she didn't know why. But it passed in a blink, and then the rage was less scalding, and more warming. Like a warm blanket on a cold night, Dahlia's anger scooped her up and held her close. She reached out as though to hug her sister, but remembered at the last moment that she had three ribs that needed to set.

So instead she sat back down again, staring into Dahlia's furious eyes. "It's really that bad, huh," she murmured to herself before directing her attention back to Dahlia proper.

"I know," she said quietly. "I trust you."

A pause. A moment. The drawing of a breath, a tiny hesitation to gauge whether or not something was okay to say. Then, "...and she trusts you too."

Picking up the eyepatch from her lap, she steadied her shaking hands enough to replace it, letting out a relieved sigh when she smoothed it back down over the scarred growth. Then, sitting there in silence, she felt the impulse to embrace Dahlia again. And again, she had to resist. This was going to happen a lot, wasn't it?

"I'm going to keep a tally of all the times I can't hug you," she joked, forcing humor into her voice though her expression remained unchanged, "and repay it with interest once you're better."

[User]
Dahlia watched the fear in Quinn's eyes melt into understanding, and felt relieved. Her own expression softened, and reached out as well when she did, though Quinn decided against the hug at the last moment.

"I'm glad. I trust you, too. I can't…help worrying. So much has happened, and none of it is fair. What's worse is that it's probably not going to stop anytime soon." She frowned, more to herself than anything. She was meant to be comforting Quinn, not preaching doom. "What I mean is, I'll always be there for you. Besca, too. Neither of us blame you for anything—you never did anything wrong. And even if you did, I don't care. I'm with you. That's family—real family."

"I'm going to keep a tally of all the times I can't hug you, and repay it with interest once you're better."

Dahlia smiled. She couldn't think of the last time Quinn had tried to make a joke, it made the room feel brighter. "You'd better," she teased. "Debts are the one thing I don't forgive."

[Assistant]
Quinn closed her eye lightly.

You never did anything wrong. And she guessed that she hadn't done anything wrong. Or. Well. The only thing she'd done wrong was be. They still came to Hovvi because of her. it still lay at her feet. But at least Dahlia and Besca wouldn't ever leave her behind. She'd been silly to think otherwise.

"You and Besca," she murmured. "I must be the luckiest girl in the whole world."

She remembered she couldn't hug Dahlia this time (she still counted it on the tally, though). So instead she stretched out beside her, taking her hand gently, running her fingers along the unfamiliar metal contours.

"I'm sorry for making you go in there. I promise if I could've, then I would have gone myself." Her words died away before any more reached her throat. It just seemed so blasé, whatever she was saying, whatever she was thinking of saying; incapable of trying to communicate what she was trying to say.

So she leaned in, resting her head very lightly against Dahlia's, and hummed, "I love you, sis. You know that, right?"


[System]
Age: 17

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Home World: The Sorcerer's Apprentice

Key-Weapon: Snake-Eyes. A Keystaff that is held not by its handle but by its long shaft. The teeth of the key serve as the bottom tip that usually rests on the ground, while the key's handle serves as the ornate head of the staff. Snake-Eyes in particular also carries the motif of a snake, with what looks like an ornate cobra coiling its body up and around the shaft and positioning its head in the center of the key's handle.

Magics: Fire, Water, Blizzard, Slow, Reflect

Grand Magic: A unique phenomenon that occurs when repeatedly casting the same spell in rapid succession. It's a form of temporary magical surge that allows the caster to channel the same spell but one tier higher for a single use. At higher levels it can used to cast spells otherwise considered to be inaccessible due to high range of power.

D-Links: Jafar

Job: Black Mage (Prefers to be called a Sorcerer)

Appearance: He's a nimble, scarlet eyed youth with short sandy brown hair, though you rarely see it when his iconic crimson hood is almost always covering it. Underneath that is a basic combination of black shirt, black pants, and dark leather shoes. He's also surprisingly athletic for a mage, able to maneuver himself with a degree with agility and acrobatics not typically seen in one such as himself.

Brief History:
Throughout the ages, a silent shadow war has been waged between the Morganians and Merlineans at the behest of their leaders, Balthazar Blake and Maxim Horvath. The Merlineans believed magic was a force to be used for the betterment of mankind, while the Morganians would instead use their magics for selfish gain and subjugation. Canaan was one such sorcerer under the tutelage of Melvor, a Merlinean. Canaan had been an orphan on the streets until he was found by Melvor, who sensed the magical potential within the boy and took him in as an apprentice. Some years after this, their sanctum came under attack by unfamiliar black creatures, appearing to be commanded by a powerful dark wizard that Melvor recognized as a Horvath. Under any other circumstance, he and his student would have fought the intruders off, but this time Melvor cast a powerful spell that opened a tear in the very world and used his magic to throw his student through it to the other side.

Caught completely off guard, Canaan found himself tumbling down a sandy dune in the middle of a desert. It was nighttime, and he could hear horses in the distance. Canaan tried to return through the tear but it had already vanished. Instead he caught side of two horses approaching a distance dune. Their riders stopped, and after a moment the sandy dunes transformed themselves into the shape of a fierce tiger's head that spoke in an ominous low voice, "Who disturbs my slumber?" one of the riders dismounted and nervously approached. Canaan couldn't make out what the short man said, but could hear the Tiger's response clearly, "Know this: Only one may enter here. One whose worth lies far within. The Diamond in the Rough!" the man looked hesitant, but the second rider appeared to be spurring him forward. Shortly after the man entered the Tiger's mouth, Canaan watched in horror as the living cave became enrage and chomped down on the would-be intruder, apparently killing him.

And yet, the other man didn't seem particularly shocked. The bird on his shoulder flew out and fetched a pair of tiny objects from the sand, too small for Canaan to identify them. Then it flew back and landed back on its master's shoulder. After this, the man turned his horse around rode off into the distance. And then somehow - through some kind of magic he didn't recognize, a name seemed to pop into Canaan's head: Jafar. It had to have been that man's name, and yet how did Canaan suddenly come to know it? At that same instance, an unfamiliar object appeared in his hand. It looked like a key-shaped staff, also bearing the image of a serpent wrapping itself around it. And then it vanished just as suddenly as it appeared. Canaan decided to follow the direction that the man Jafar had rode off into. Likely he would find civilization by doing so. But along the way, the desert started to take its toll. And just as Canaan found himself surrounded by more of those things that attacked him and his master, he collapsed from both the heat and exhaustion.

When he awoke, he found himself elsewhere. He'd been saved by an elderly looking man who held in his hand a key-shaped weapon of his own.

Other: Carries with him a dagger that serves as his Focus, an object that sorcerers in his world use to channel their magic with. And although he is able to use magic through Snake-Eyes, he is also able to do so through the Dagger, and in fact can use both to channel his magic to a stronger degree than he could with either individually.

[User]
Rascal

Rascal, for one, did not know what all the fuss was about, killing what was probably an innocent girl. He knew that he should probably just play along, but geez, was this lady a loser or what!?

At least the team would definitely stop her from getting what she wanted and get the Princess to a safe location, though! Sure, that weird black haired guy might try to stop them, but Rascal suspected that that wouldn't stop the team from getting things done!

"Don't worry, Your Highness, that loser girl won't stand a chance against us!" He exclaimed, following Verik's lead and motioning for the others to follow.

[Assistant]
The Sorcerer kept his mouth shut through all the exchanges, still not bothering to actually introduce himself. Strange characters and oddities just coming and going as if they didn't care one lick about protecting the existence of the Multiverse. It all made him that much more frustrated that the old man insisted on restricting what they could do or say. Otherwise this whole thing would be little more than a trifle to deal with. Even when one of them tried to shake his hand, Canaan just stared at them with an incredulous gaze and offered no hand in return. With no other choice, he followed along with a frustrated sigh. He had a feeling this was all going to become very annoying in the future.

Entering the Throne Room, Canaan's mood remained unchanged. While others may have thought to bow or kowtow to this monarch, Canaan on the other hand barely acknowledged her existence. The power she displayed seemed mediocre at best in his professional opinion. Something any two-bit hack on a stage could accomplish with smoke and mirrors. But he did detect actual power somewhere in this castle. Something more legitimately impressive to him, but it was not the Queen. The magic he detected emanated from somewhere beneath them, possibly the dungeons or somewhere else down in the basement levels. What he hadn't said to anyone was that the story of a Queen trying to kill a Princess was one that existed in his world, albeit as a mere fairy tale. Still, if this world was anything like that fairy tale, then the magic he sensed would have to be...

"Are the rest of you coming?"

Canaan gave the blue-eyed one a very slight blink-and-you'll-miss-it sideways glance but not much else. If his suspicions were right, then what he sensed was the Queen's Magic Mirror, and it had real power. And that was enough to fully intrigue the Sorcerer. He lingered a moment, only walking away when he was the last to do so. And still not offering so much as a glance of acknowledgement to the Queen. He made sure to lag behind the others, a smirk appearing on his lips.

Note to self: investigate that Mirror. It could be... useful.

[User]
Soon, everyone in the group arrived. The cute little elf dude was nice, and so was the talking stuffed racoon thing. The dude in the red cloak gave strong asshole vibes… Soon enough, everyone was there, and they all went inside.

When they went to hear the queen out, Conner had to try very hard not to hide his disgust. This queen deserves an Oscar for her performance. The pirate looking person knew what they were talking about, and was the only thing about this whole scene that wasn't totally embarrassing. Conner just let them talk. Queen bitch shot them down immediately. The scene was made even worse when Verik tried flirting the queen… It took everything he could not to throw up right there.

Conner saluted, then ran off after Verik. "Dude, what are you doing?" Conner questioned. "I may not be into women, but you can certainly do better than… That…"

[Assistant]
Verik

Swimsuit boy was the first to catch up with Verik, asking him why he would flirt up the Queen. Admittedly, he put on a bit of a performance back there, but he needed to get close to her to seal the pact. "No need to be mean. She was pretty enough, in spite of her weird getup. I figure a woman as rich and powerful as her could only be this upset with some random forest girl if it was a matter of jealousy, so I thought she'd like it if I appealed to her vanity. Who knows? Maybe a boost to her self-esteem would be enough to make her forget about this whole thing. Either way, we're supposed to be undercover mercenaries, and that question back there made her suspicious. We wouldn't want the queen thinking we're questioning the legitimacy or morality of the job. Also, I just like making friends. All kinds of friends, really." Thinking back to his old friends in Florem, he had to admit, he missed them, even if they were jerks. The Queen was petty and vain... similar to a lot of his old friends, actually, but her throne room wasn't all that big despite the great riches available to her. Her actual throne was a bit gaudy, but it was only two steps above ground level. There was something more vulnerable and lonely in her conceit, and he could empathize. Of course, he wasn't about to excuse trying to kill some innocent girl because of mere insecurities, but being on good terms with bad people wasn't a bad thing, in his opinion.

Verik stops to face Conner, holding his hand out for a handshake and giving him a friendly smirk. "Speaking of which, would you like to be my friend?"

[User]
As the party seemed to bow and bid a hasty retreat, she called to them "Oh, and i will give you a reward for the hearts of anyone who tries to protect her. She has already used her charms to corrupt a pair of the first mercenaries i sent after her. Nothing is as heinous as a traitor..." She said. Kalak had the strange feeling she was staring at him when she said that. As soon as they closed the door behind them, her smile instantly turned into a frown. "I have a feeling they are going be a thorn in my side..." She sighed. Barely a few minutes had passed when there was a flash of light in the corner and Grimhilde stood up, staring a the being that had just appeared. "Who are you, explain yourself." She demanded. The man that entered took a bow.

"Greetings, dear queen. Truly, the elegance, beauty and grace of someone such as you is matched only by... Well, me!" the man laughed.

"You seem to presume much to come in here and make a claim to my throne of fairity." She said, her lips curling into a snarl as she raised her hand, seemingly ready to strike with her magics

"Then fear not, my queen, for i come to you with great tidings. You say that some of your mercenaries are having trouble killing this traitor, constantly being corrupted by her?" Grimhilde's hand slowly lowered. "Then allow me to introduce you to a new weapon in your arsenal. One that i give freely." A rhythmic stomping of many feet in unison was heard as Grimhilde's face curled into a curious smile. "I presume them to be to your liking?"

"Very much so..." She smiled "Go forth, my new soldiers and kill the wretch known as Snow White." She ordered.

"KILL!!!" A chorus came in unison, before she watched her new army file out of another door towards another exit to the castle.

****

Outside, Kalak and the others gathered back in the courtyard. "So, she's hiding something..." Kalak sighed. "But right now, all we have to go on is that girl and the longer we stand here, the closer those other mercs get to her." He jumped up on the well and struck an epic pose, whilst pointing out towards the woods. "ADVENTURE IS OUT THERE!!!" He jumped down and set off at a run towards the woods, hoping that the others would follow.

[Assistant]
"Of course she's hiding something." said the Sorcerer, at last breaking his long silence. He wondered how long it would be before someone else had started to notice what he had noticed a while ago, "And she's hiding it under the castle somewhere. I sensed it coming from somewhere below the throne room. Power. Real power. Not like the cheap smoke and mirrors tricks she was doing in the throne room." he reached up and adjusted his red coat a bit, also using the time to let them react however they would. But he wouldn't wait long.

"And best of all? I'm pretty sure I know what it is." he said with a cocky smirk, "A mirror, magical of course. And if I'm right about it, one that possesses near omniscient levels of knowledge, and able to answer anything you ask of it with perfect accuracy. I assume you all realize the implications here?" he glanced about at his current companions. Surely even the most clueless among them would make the connection. That a power like the mirror's could allow one to always know the movements and whereabouts and anyone they wish to track, among a myriad of other ways it could be used... or abused.

"I say the mirror should be our goal." he said flatly, "For two reasons. First: We can probably use its power to locate the Princess, saving us the time it would have taken to search for her. And second: It would be in our best interests to ensure that such a power remains well out of the wrong hands, if you catch my meaning."


[System]
DESPITE ALL MY RAGE, I AM STILL JUST A RAT IN THE CAGE
anything at all to never feel like that again

---
07 JUL 2151P L A C E O F B I R T H
Kakunodate, Japan, Earth.B I O L O G I C A L S E X
MaleB L O O D T Y P E
AB+H E I G H T
188 centimetresW E I G H T
74 KilogramsI M P L A N T S
L2

Keep your chin up. Hands up. Guard your head, boy, don't let them in.

Chin up. Friends, family? Long gone, won't help you now. They watched you leave in a shiny tin can and slept better that night. Dressed you up in devil's clothes, so they shipped you off to make it real.

Hands up, boy. No time for tears.

Live on your feet, son, bob and weave. You got teeth to cut, no time to sleep. Gotta grow up fast, grow up hard, 'cause those devils are right there with you. Every day, hour, minute. No time to rest with a devil on your back.

Head down, nose to the grind stone. Shoulder to the wheel. No time for chit chat. Do your drills, son, be a man. Won't make it out of this as anything less.

They shipped you up to the monsters, boy. Come back one of 'em.

[User]
Yoroi was stepping onto the faux-leather padding as soon as Caelnus gave his blessing, not bothering to watch Court disappear back into the mass of waiting students. Good that he'd gone for it--did the turian know it was better this way, or was he just looking for something more entertaining to watch? Yoroi didn't know or care. It had worked. Now it was just him in Kalyani.

Good.

He wasn't going to win this match. Say what you want about her, Madan knew her shit. You didn't get to Step Nine any other way, even taking five years to do it. Most of the time she was all limp kitten, putting in the bare minimum to pass the muster and make the hawks happy, but there were more than a few hard boys who'd found out the that when it came right down to it she was a fucking natural. Even now, watching her prime, Yoroi could tell by the way her aura _flowed_ that she was starting to get into it. He remembered his parents, his friends, the teachers at school after Conatix got through with their civilian party line--they might have gotten the kids there with promises of glory and distant horizons, but they'd gotten the signature on the permission form with fear.

Do you know what your child is capable of?
You've no idea what he'll do if he doesn't learn to control himself.
What if he flips out or something? I'm out, man, I'm not screwing around with no freak.
I'm not trying to alarm you, but in certain cases biotic episodes have been known to turn violent.

Yeah. Fucking cases like this one.

Yoroi had watched more than his fair share of the older students training--the instructors didn't like it, worried that some Step One jackass would lose it and breach something probably, but he'd seen some of what they were up to. He knew Madan was more than the wet blanket she pretended to be, and now he was going to feel it. Ready to dance, he settled himself in--

And she was already on him. He'd watched that glow slide right through her pale olive skin, eezo nodes jacked up and raring to go, and still he almost missed her first shot.

Almost. If there was something Yoroi was good at, it was barriers. Projection was his problem, controlling those rippling bolts of force she seemed to rattle off so easily, but his body was his turf. Like a samurai, he always thought to himself, never quite able to voice the stupid cliche aloud. Knight in shining armor. O-Yoroi. Can't beat what you can't hurt. Last moment or no his barrier was strong as anything, dissipating her torrent of strikes like water around a rock. It wouldn't hurt him, it couldn't hurt him--she might have all sorts of spin over Newtonian physics on her side of the court but her right to play with the spatial laws ended at his face.

She could do better than that. He knew it, and he was going to make her prove it.

Someone else would have taunted her. Al-Tariq would have said something shitty, called her a her something disgusting enough to make her mad, but that wasn't Yoroi's game. He didn't want to win, he wanted to win. To be so damn full of biotic fucking badassery that he could rip that taloned foot off his throat and take the leg with it. You didn't get there by being a brat--you got there by knuckling down and putting in the hours. Say what you wanted about him, Yoroi worked his ass off at BaAT and it showed.

Where Kaylani was flowing, natural, easy, Yoroi was sharp and efficient. His barriers came with a sharp clench of his right fist, his strikes with his left. His main issue in the ring was that he hadn't quite figured out how to manage one without weakening the other--focus he had plenty of, but multi-tasking? Firing without using that raw strength he had in his shield? It was tough, it took training and time he hadn't had, but that didn't mean there was nothing there. Kaylani's barrage was measured, sustainable, but each blow was weaker than his barrier by a good margin and there were enough of them to give him a good sense of how much strength he could spare. All he needed was to wait for the moment between one impact and the next--

Bingo. Kalyani was flowing-Tai-Chi, very Kung-Fu--Yoroi was Krav Maga, all sharp efficiency and vicious counterattacks. He primed-aimed-fired in the time it took him to snap forward his fist, a straight jab turned into a sledgehammer by the little eezo nodes humming under his skin. Though he didn't know it, there was one thing he and Madan were in complete agreement about.

There was nothing quite like that biotic ripple under their skin. Potential energy, literally--all potential.

It could be anything. It could do anything.

It could make Kalyani Madan wake the fuck up and try.

[Assistant]
Kalyani had always been patient. As a girl, she'd spent months waiting for her mother to return from deployment, for her father to come home from long days at the office, for summers in the country side where she could breathe clean air once more. Jump Zero had been more of the same endless cycles of hurry up and wait that had been her whole life. If she held tight and kept herself busy, Kalyani was certain she could outlast most anything.

She could wait until Nagamura took the lead.

For only having two years under his belt, he was eerily efficient with barriers. He lacked drama or flair, and that served him well. His economy of motion was managed with an obsession that bordered on pathological. It was clean.He was an utter tool, but that didn't mean she couldn't appreciate his technique. It worked.

He snapped forward, a blow that she knew would break bones if it touched her. The air was charged, electric, blown aside by the screaming blue light that she lived for.

Kalyani moved directly towards it, raising a forearm to take the worst of it, palms flaring open, barrier eddying in the air, grasping wisps of the impact and tugging it into its currents. Endless swirling plasma curled around her flesh, feather light whispers stoking the heat in her skin.

Sometimes it felt like she might ignite. It was worth it, in these mad moments, everything she'd been through. Every frigid, hungry night, every petty injustice, all the bullshit—it had to be worth it.

The barrier collapsed under a quick pull of hands, condensing to a shuddering mass. Unbroken, straining at the reins, kicking against her control, itching to fly apart—she flicked an arm, like skipping a stone. She was six again, finding smooth pebbles to fling into the ocean, chalky white cliffs crowding out the world but for the lazy tide, counting jumps—un, deux, trois, quatre—maman, regarder! Quatre!

The shockwave skipped across leather mats, the ground shuddering with the impact. Kalyani cocked her head, watching the warpath of her biotics.

One, two, three, four.


[System]
Appearance: Tall and loosely armored throughout. She wears layers of robes with plates upon the shoulders, chest, faulds about the waist, and gauntlets about the wrists that extend out over the tops of her hands. Long, charcoal-black hair falls about her like an avalanche, framing a lithe form chiseled from a life of physical training.

Height: 5'9

Weight: 120lbs

 Hair Color: Pitch black

Eye Color: A warm reddish-orange
Age: early twenties

History: Mimi grew up within a glade in the lush Rivenwood forest. Her father absent at the time of her birth, she was raised by her mother, who had secluded herself amidst the babbling brooks and breaching peaks of the region. Here Mimi was taught the important of light and dark, and the healing and destructive powers the two respective forces contained.
Her early life was spent learning the forest, navigating it by day and night, and learning it like the back of her hand. It was her home, after all. She had to learn to survive, for there was no fighting the creatures that stalked about at night. Even still, when later on she learned the few offensive techniques that she knows, she never once harmed anything within the borders of the forest.
In her mid-teens her mother gifted her with lanterns, and taught her to weave herself with the light. She learned the importance of protection that the light would bring, and the way in which darkness could be sewn together with it.
On her twentieth birthday, her mother vanished. Mimi was not afraid, nor was she saddened by the loss, for somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew her mother would leave her one day. The only harm came from the solitude, and she longed most for companionship in adventure.
Armed with her mother's teachings, and a life of labor within the glade, she set out in search of not the relics, per say, but those in search of them. These mercenaries she'd heard about, these treasures that were ravaging the land with gossip and excitement, they would provide her with adventure, and she was sure that along the way she'd find someone to help, and journey with.

Personality: Mimi is lighthearted and naïve to the world outside of Rivenwood, but that is not to say she is foolish or gullible. She is very adamant about her opinions and beliefs, but loves to debate with others, though arguments for her are more just a front to learn more of the world, and an excuse to engage with other people. She's fascinated by others, how they think, how they work, what they do and why, what they feel and what makes them feel. To her, people are the treasures on these expeditions, and she hates to see harm befall anyone.
That being said, she has, as all people do, her limits.

Weapons: The Match: A long staff, wooden in appearance but cool to the touch, like metal, and impervious to the burns of fire. In fact, one end of the Match is black as a wick might be, and is prone to being lit with a vibrant and undying flame. In her earlier years, this was her ward in the darkness of Rivenwood.

Abilities (Magic):
-Lumancy: Mimi can control light, craft it in minute amounts, and suck it away in places to leave only darkness. Though not inherently offensive, it can be used to create "hardlight" barriers with enough energy, and in a small, concentrated area, can produce blistering, white heat.

-The Lanterns: They are about the size of a forearm, and even Mimi is unsure as to how many there truly are, as whenever she tries to count them, they shift and move too much to allow it. The number seems to shift, and at times the estimate number ranges anywhere from a dozen to upwards of fifty. Where the excess lanterns go when they are not present none can be sure. Perhaps they simply fade from the world, for surely they cannot be real. After all, the tiny yet bright flames within their glass cages never seem to go out.
Mimi controls these lanterns as if they were a second mind. Sometimes they act without her conscious thought, and wander around her with the same curious fascination that she herself possesses. Though they possess no innate offensive capabilities, she uses them most often for traveling and lighting paths at night. When in combat, Mimi can use her understanding of Lumancy to create hardlight from the light of the lanterns to protect herself an others.

 Other: She tends to smile a lot, even in circumstances wherein happiness is perhaps inappropriate. This is not due to disrespect per say, but all the same she herself doesn't quite understand it either.

[User]
Yem had no time to think and reacted on instinct. It was all he could do to sacrifice the spear in order to avoid getting caught in the web of the Drider. The weapon got stuck, glued to the sticky thing, and the beast tore it from his hand by twisting its head sideways. Armed now with only a knife, the situation looked grim. He felt the beckoning of the relic in the fire, and let his eyes get drawn to it. The stories said they were full of power, those relics. Power he could probably use now. He still hadn't discerned whether the fire was magical or not, but at this point his options were dwindling fast. He would have to risk the fire, flee the scene or fight the Drider practically unarmed, probably resulting in his death. Yem had no wish to die, and fleeing after having come so close left a bitter taste in his mouth. He would brave it, then, and curse or thank himself later. Now there was only the matter of the Drider and how to distract it.

He suddenly turned, as if to flee, and when he was sure the creature was lounging after him, Yem twisted back and threw the dagger at it. The Drider was too distracted with charging to evade in time and was struck by the sharp blade, and so Yem seized the opportunity and dashed for the relic. He could hear the creature screeching behind him as he ran, but it wouldn't be able to catch him before he got there. He realized that he had nothing to grab the amulet with from the fire, but decided to proceed anyway. The flames licked at him as he reached in and snatched it from its place, but the pain was distant, unimportant. The adrenaline was keeping him sharp, and his body was tough when in totem shape. He stared at the relic, unsure what to do with it now that he had it, and watched with mounting terror as the monstrosity came charging at him through the night.

Then, just as if he'd known it his entire life, it became apparent. He closed his eyes, and the totem ceased.

She opened her eyes and saw the monstrosity before her. It was a simple matter of bending the darkness in front of its eyes in order to escape its charge. The creature stopped and looked about, puzzled, shaking its head and clawing at its face is confusion. She had, meanwhile, produced her bow and was lining up a shot even as the creature was still trying to regain its sight. With a soft twang, the arrow left her bow, and with a quiet thud it embedded itself right between the eyes of the Drider. It gurgled, still more dumbfounded than before, and touched its hand to where the arrow was lodged into its skull. Then it started swaying, mildly first but soon wildly, and finally collapsed in a jumble of chitin and undead flesh. She dismissed the magic with a thought and walked up to the beast. The bowstring hummed once more, another arrow digging into the creatures head, just to make sure it stayed dead this time. The she put her bow away and inspected her surroundings. It was a strange place, this. She recognized it slightly, as if she'd seen it in a dream somewhere, but couldn't place it. Then she looked at her hands, and her feet, and touched her hand to her face. Now this was interesting. Suddenly, there was a tugging sensation in her stomach, and she felt her conscience rapidly fading. She closed her eyes, believing she was about to faint, and then everything went black.

He opened his eyes and took a desperate, ragged breath, like if he'd been drowning. That had been… interesting, to say the least. Unexpected, but interesting. He had seen everything, seen how he had killed the monster with a bow he apparently no longer possessed, seen him inspect himself. He hadn't heard himself say anything, or think anything, but he knew somehow that another mind had been in his body. He had done all those things, yes, or at least his body had. This truly was unexpected, but not unwelcome.

Pain rushed to greet him, and he grunted as his burned hand and cut back made themselves known to him once more. He would need to rest and heal, preferably somewhere safe. He would have to find a tavern, or a farm with rooms to let. Night or no, he could not stay here.

[Assistant]
The bear's roar didn't even phase the Taskmage, as Atreides used as a title as often as his own name, letting the beast focus its attention on him, and him alone. Of course, the rest of the present mercenaries and hunters present ganged up on the distracted creature and bring it down to its knees, the gem falling from its eyesocket. The thing limped away, already dying as it seemed the gem was fueling its survival. Sable would take care of the gem, probably, that bear was dying regardless of what it did. He quietly chased the creature, flames vanishing from his arm and sword, disappearing into the shadows of the forest, chasing the thing's wounded trail. It didn't take long to find, the exposed ribs and damage having slowed it down.

"Don't know what the hell happened to you, creature, but you won't last long. Going to keep fighting?"

It had not intended to continue the fight, but cornered it did, roaring and lunging at the Taskmage who had previously been sheathed in fire. One blow later, however, and it slammed into the ground behind the Taskmage, unmoving. Atreides cleaned the blood from his sword, shaking his head. Whatever had wounded the beast so and left that relic in its eye was cruel. Oh well, it was out of its misery now. Atreides started walking back to where the others were no doubt going to be squabbling over the relic. Frankly put, he was more vested in helping Sable then the relics themselves, but it was irrelevant either way. Arms in his coat pockets, he walked back to see how the petty squabble was going on, starting the same irritating whistle that he had been doing prior to them running into all those people.

[User]
Mal grinned as he felt brittle bone crack beneath his fist, but then he felt it shake beneath him as the earthen hands grabbed at the bear's side. He called back his chains, wiping one hand across his forehead to deal with access sweat as he panted while they returned.

 When he looked back, however, he caught the emerald gleam as the relic dropped from the creature's eye. The bear itself was shaking beneath him as it broke free of the rock's grasp, giving Mal little time to react. Already he was losing energy fast. His body was at the verge of aching as his adrenaline started to pewter away.

 He figured he could get two more commands in maximum, and that was giving up the strength and speed of the spirit to do so. He took a deep breath, and the mark's heat dissipated as the growing spirals returned to its point of origin. Then, with a quick glance at what was in front of him, and his hands firm on the two chains as they looped around his waist, he leaped off the giant creature and called to his chains.

 "Crowley, reach for the tree!" Mal shouted and the chain on his right complied. It stretched towards the bark and slammed the sharp point into the tree's side. Then, as his right hand grabbed the links firmly, he called the chain on his right into action, "Naga, grab that relic as we swing by!"

 His right chain pulled taut as his feet neared the ground. The left chain rushed forward towards the gemstone, and Mal's eyes widened as the girl in red leaped towards it from the tree.

 There was a split-second difference. It was still everyone's game, he told himself, but he knew that there was no way he'd have enough energy after this encounter to defend it feasibly. He really should've saved on the energy before coming here. Then again, he had not expected resistance.

 Or competition.

[Assistant]
"Hmm?"

Midst the surge of spells stunning and suppressing the bear, Ugnis heard something like a small rock bouncing off the ground towards him. Unable to tell and curious as to what it was, he spun his leg out towards it and scooped it with his foot towards himself with surprising finesse and accuracy as he heard Sable and a chain lash out at it. But upon snagging it, Ugnis felt a dark, familiar pulse echo through his body and mind. He cringed slightly and started taking short, quick breaths. Was this what made that bear go wild? "I-is this a relic?" Ugnis asked with a slightly shaky voice. "This is... dangerous." He had no interest in the Relics or money in the first place and, now that he'd come into contact with one, had become absolutely clueless as to why anyone would want to collect them. Like dried skulls. Those are weird people.