[System]
Also known as-
Tet, Teto, The Wildcard, The Unknown, Blank

Age-
Unknown, Looks a little over 21

God Status-
God of Play

Personality-
Tet is the type of god that is quiet, but eccentric. He does not like to be condescending no matter who it is but he also does not like being talked down to. He honestly is a true neutral person, he does his best not to get too involved with situations, he likes to observe from the side and see how things unfold. He can be twisted, but twisted in such a way that makes him very intelligent. If he can he will avoid fights and find other ways to resolve the situation.

Parents-
Unknown

Sexuality-
Straight
Form on Earth-

True Form-

Powers-
Power of Geis or Absolute Obedience- Can order any human or god to do any one thing, but it will only affect the same person once. If the order is not a one time deal, any time a situation arises in which the order would be relevant, it is again carried out. Can only be triggered through direct eye contact.
Shape Shift- Can change his appearance at will
Teleportation/Levitataion

Godly Artifact-
Ring of Skill- The wearer of this ring can summon any one thing as long as it is real and can be thought of. As well gains the same knowledge, intelligence, and observation that Tet has.

Attributes of the God-
High Intelligence- Through the use of his high intelligence he can easily solve problems that others would not be able to solve. Even problems that would plague a god for years he can solve in a matter of moments
Highly Observant- Being so highly observant he can easily notice changes in attitude of a person or situation, thus giving him the chance to react faster than anyone else.
Mass Amounts of Knowledge- Through the combination of his intelligence and observation, over the years Tet gained more knowledge than any one god ever has.

History (Pre-Earth bound)-
Tetsuo was a god that was not strong in anyway, he did not intervene much as a god he went on by as a good constantly observing and gaining knowledge over the several thousands of years he was a god. He always believed that maybe one day he could use the knowledge he gains to make a change in something whether it be good or for worse. Seeing as he was not a strong god, he made up for it by being the most intelligent god of all gods. Whenever he would be challenged by another god, instead of letting the other god control the flow, Tet, without the power of his Geis, would take control of the flow instead and would have the challenger always compete against him in a game, always winning in the end. He did his best to stay neutral in any relations he got into especially if it were a situation that would mean imminent chaos or disorder. As such he did not have anyone that was with him, but he also did not have anyone that was against him.

History (Post-Earth bound)-
On the day all the gods from above were sent down to Earth, Tet did not resist or put up a fight rather he didn't care much, he was honestly bored and thought of this as a good chance. While all the other gods were doing their very best to return back to the heavens, Tet lived down on the Earth without a complaint. While he was a god on Earth, he did not try to blend in with the mortals as he could not care less, but at the same time he did not believe in trying to control the human race eithe. As he did in the heavens he stayed neutral and lived a life of observing for the many thousands of years. He watched it all, the destruction, the death, the recovery and the evolution of the human species, but he soon became discontented with what he observed over the years. He was tired of seeing the same thing happening, as such he vowed to change something, all while still being a neutral force behind it all.

Motive-
After the many years of observing he wants to make a change by becoming the 'One True God' and changing the very fundamentals of how the world works, as well as the lives of the other gods that were hell bent on becoming tyrannical gods.

[User]
The Queen of Darkness

Darkness inhaled, the sting of cold hitting the back of her nostrils paired with the stench of daily human life - coffee, food and the fuels they treasured so much. Winter had finally rolled around and it was already having its way with the environment, people glided and fell with the frosty paths and already, scarfs seemed to be in high demand. Humans were fiercely adaptable creatures and despite the rapid change of conditions, they still went about their daily lives. Strange. Sparing a moment of her eternity to peek around, Kyra briefly remembered being in that place before only the last time, it was full of the dead and dying as disease tore through it. The Goddess of Darkness was always attracted to the places where evil flourished. Or maybe it was the other way around? Kyra had forgot to remember.

A hushed whisper from beside her woke her from the trance that had imprisoned her. An excited silence, a breath of life against the cold abyss - her little summons, she guessed. Pulling her hands from her warm coat, she pulled her hood about her frosty hair and followed the sound into a nearby ally. Finally, in a particularly dark corner, she found the Shadows' Moot. At least a dozen of her creations were darted around, chiming into the debate with their own excited tones. Kyra frowned and took her place among the little creatures, sitting cross-legged and listening as they recounted tales from the last endeavor she had sent them on. It was around Christmas and keeping within the weird human traditions, she felt a weird desire to see her family or at least, be near them. She had tracked them down to this particular city which seemed to be buzzing with their activity but she didn't want them to see her just in case they decided to get into her Mother's good books and bring her in. Instead, she sent out her Shadows to see who was all there. Frowning once more, she tilted her head in silent curiosity at their answers. "The King of the Dead? You mean Bronte? Amare? And Armarion? And a few seasons? And Light as well? Guys, don't you realise that there's only ever one season in one place at a certain time, right?" The chorus of angry buzzing that followed made her think otherwise. "Damn... I guess I'll have to leave then. Having all those gods together in one place means that anyone with half a brain should stay away from said place." She must have dimmed their curiosity as they all let out a disappointed chatter before rejoining the shadows around them and leaving her alone. So dreadfully alone.

Nyra allowed her feet to lead her from the ally and along the cluttered streets. Her rather small form was swamped by heavy clothing that did dreadfully nothing - the Queen of Darkness was always cold and it was bloody miserable. Somehow, she found herself standing at the entrance of a dark-looking establishment much too far off the main road. Peeking in, she noticed the large lack of light and decided it was better than nowhere so quickly darted inside, her dark eyes peeking around in silent caution. It was mostly abandoned save for a few rather menacing looking individuals sitting at the bar. Approaching the same place, she leaned against it and the barman, who was previously caught up in a conversation with the men, gave her a confused look and briefly wondered if she had a death wish. Nevertheless, he moved away from the others and gave her a raise of his eyebrow. Attempting to make her voice a little deeper, she coughed. "Er... a banana milkshake please; and don't skimp on the bananas."

The look he gave her was bordering on confusion and sheer skepticism. A resounding laugh went up amongst the other men as the barman narrowed his eyes at her. "Listen kid, you may think this is funny or something but this is a very dangerous place for a little girl. I advise you run along to daddy." Kyra raised her eyes from her hood and gave him a confused look, blinking in misunderstanding - she didn't exactly see the problem with her request. Was she being rude for asking for extra bananas?

"Um... Just a water then?" She made sure to avert her eyes this time, shrinking back on herself as the barman shook his head and went to find a tap. Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder and quickly looked up to find one of the men was standing over her. He was about to say something but in her quiet terror, Kyra kicked into combat-mode. The man's words were caught in his throat as the girl in front of him suddenly disappeared. Out of nowhere, she reappeared, tugging him to the ground before keeping him down with a punch that betrayed her Godly strength. His friends rose, going for their concealed weapons but Kyra was much too quick and darkness enveloped her form again. The first man received a kick where the sun doesn't shine which was subsequently followed by a heavy punch that sent him sprawling backwards. Just as the second one righted himself and drew a pistol, a hand that could only be described as being physically made from shadows slammed his head down into the bar, his body releasing a sickening crunch. Breathing heavily, the Queen of Darkness allowed herself to breath as she heard a door open.

The barman returned and cast one glance over the scene before his eyes went wide and he pointed back to the door. "I'll go get that banana milkshake!" Sighing, Kyra dropped the last man to the ground and found a comfortable seat in the corner before pulling her knees to her chest. Why were humans such confusing creatures?

[Assistant]
Armarion stopped sobbing then stood sensing Tet was nearby, so he decided to pay his rival a visit.

With a snap of his fingers Armarion had appeared beside Tet who seemed to trying to pursue Brontes and Amare.

Armarion floated alongside the God of Play in a bored manner wiping away what tears were left.

"Well if it isn't the God of Play what brings you here poker or wine?

Armarion said sarcastically to Tet with a scowl and a roll of his eyes but that aside Armarion actually had a purpose to be with the God of Play for both of them would probably be a good team yet they haven't given it thought.

"Never mind that for now though we have more important matters at hand and I think it might be time-"

He stopped himself because he strained to say the words because they weren't very could companions.

"Time to set-set aside our differences and work together"

Armarion sighed and stuck a hand out to the other God who was trying to follow Amare and Brontes, he knew as a matter of fact that if they worked together they would be an unstoppable mind, they would be the most intelligent beings in the world amongst the Gods and Goddesses.

He was sure that Tet was also aware of this but he had not brought the topic up yet.

[User]
Far away in a land which was just starting spring, inside an ancient forest sat the ruins of a castle. One so old it had to have been decaying for over four millennium. Humans had not set foot inside this forest, not yet anyway for it was very secluded valley, with mountains on both sides. Now in this ancient ruined castle there was a throne and on that throne sat a god who had not been disturbed since the time of the Egyptians. He was Amos, God of Valor and protector of the High Heavens, from which he was banned from by Brontes. Mortals slept, gods did not. No Amos had suspended himself into a state of reflection, where his godly consciousness had been reliving memories and events from his past. At present he was watching his first days of life and how his duties unfolded upon himself. Armarion was there, his first brother since he did not count the first. They stood upon a hill covered in flowers which had colors that did not even exist on Earth. They watched their parents sculpt the Heavens and breath life into it and for the first time in his life Amos felt happy.

The scene changed again, this time he was watching his siblings from afar. A pang of guilt echoed in him, he was never really there for them, always busy overseeing Heaven and not enough time for himself or close bonds, but there was Armarion who shared in the responsibilities. Yet he was closer to them then Amos would ever be and he did not know what to feel. The scene shifted once again to the great betrayal. In his time of thought Amos had come up with many possible conclusions as to why Brontes did what he did. Was it jealousy? Greed? Or had it been something with the Humans? He could never come up with an answer that he approved of and it angered him. Amos then watched one by one, his siblings leave the army that Armarion commanded in search of him for they had "given up". His last siblings to leave was Thalliana, who cared about the Heavens even more so, which was scary to think because Amos only knew Heaven. He had made a mental note that if he ever awoke again he would find her and together perhaps they could find a way back. He also thought of his parents, why were they not helping them? Were they angry at something their children did? Perhaps it had something to do with Kyra and how she was never found. Maybe, that was it Amos thought, his parents would not help because they had not helped them. He would be sure to remedy that when the time came...

He also made a pact with himself that when he did awake he would find out what Brontes cared for the most in his existence and then take it away from him so that he could know his pain. He was about to watch his battle with the demon Mortis, when something strange happened. It was as if he heard crying? Surely it was not an illusion, so he focused on the crying and a strange vision of Armarion crying, while sitting on a strange canister, appeared before him. Why would he be crying or for that matter, why was he seeing him cry? Surely Armarion was better then that Amos thought. The thought of waking up was enticing to Amos, to see Armarion again would be nice but then what? His presence at Armarion slowly started to drift back away..

[Assistant]
「To your surprise faceless one, I am here for netiher. I am pretty sure you already know what I am here for considering Brontes alone attracts just about every god in a world's distance.」Tet laughed a bit, as it pretty much was the truth in the matter any god would be able to feel Brontes' presence especially since some gods resented him to the point of ingraining their bodies and souls with the meer feeling of Brontes' presence. Both Tet and Armarion followed at a safe distance, making sure not to give away their godly presence off to either of the two gods before them. It was a hard task but between the two of them it was a rather peerless task.

It was then Amarion had popped a question he would have never even imagined of asking way back in the day considering he found Tet his rival.

Tet was thrown off a bit, making him stumble over his own footsteps. He quickly regained his composure and looked at Armarion with his highly observant eyes to see if Armarion was only trying to trick Tet. It was long before Armarion actually thrusted out his hand, looking for Tet's hand to meet him half way for a handshake. It was then Tet brought up his own resolve and decdided that just for this moment in time he would team up with Armarion. After all even Tet knew that between the two of them, they could be very well unstoppable in that they are the two most intelligent gods, Tet being at the top of course.

「You know Faceless One, Armarion, I would've never thought I would see this day, not in the past thousands of years we have been stuck on this Earth.」Tet reached out his hand and took Armarion's hand into his, giving a firm handshake.「After we are done here, we are back to being rivals. If you betray me though I will not hesitate to make you a slave under the power of my Geis you can count on that.」


[System]
Race:  Snapjaw (AKA Bayou Hound)

Race Abilities:  Snapjaws have high endurance, able to run at a decent speed over land or swim for sustained periods of time. They have extremely powerful jaws despite their size, and can crush bones should one get a good purchase. Sadly, they can't do much else. Snapjaws are most at home in warm, moist environments

Gender:  Female

Personality:  In the previous world, Otsune was compassionate, quiet, poetic, clever, thankful, considerate, gracious, and highly spiritual. Given a new lease on life in this place, however, her natural, real-life traits are commonly masked her new sense of self.

Otsune is energetic, outgoing, willful, ready to hurt and kill if need be, and greatly assertive. She is a huntress who prefers to act rather than think, a thrill-seeker and competitor. When fighting, she shows a merciless and savage side, perhaps imagining her enemies to embody all the immorality that her spirit strove against before. With her fellow monsters, nothing pleases her more than to mock, irritate, enrage, and humiliate. All of this, however, doesn't so much mask her previous self as it does filter to the top of it. Otsune still doesn't talk much, preferring to embarrass and annoy via gesture, traps, counters, turning foes' strength against them, and the like. She will never steal and won't often lie, and those that do not deserve to be hurt will not only be spared, but receive her protection. She never takes a blessing for granted, and always appreciates help and camaraderie. If the situation calls for wits, her keen intellect will bubble to the surface. At her core, she strives to act with the sort of grace and professionalism she thinks befits someone serving God.

History (Pre-Mortem):  No amount of hard work, love, or previous fortune can prevent an ordinary woman, working alongside her husband in religious ministries, from dire misfortune. At the age of 26, Otsune found herself afflicted with a fast-working cancer. For a while, the spiritual woman wondered why God might allow such a thing to happen despite the blamelessness with which she lived her life, but ultimately, she did not lose her faith. Gradually, she embraced her coming death, and with the time she had left found more meaning and love in her life than ever before.

Nevertheless, when her husband found out that a place of healing in a far-off land might be able to save her, the two journeyed across towns, hills, and plains to see if God might provide for her after all. After her arrival at the hospital, Otsune underwent conventional treatment, but nothing availed her. Saddened but unbroken, Otsune bid a tearful but smiling farewell to her grief-stricken husband, and lay down for one last procedure -a blood transfusion- before the world went dark.

Appearance:  About a foot tall and three feet long, snapjaws are amalgamations of dog and crocodile, with both scales and fur. The most prominent reptilian characteristics are the tail, head, eyes, and lower legs, while the rest is mostly dog. They come in a variety of colors and subspecies, but Otsune is light brown with cream-colored scruff and chocolate-colored patches on her back.

Other:  I have something really cool in mind for an evolution, but it's pretty strong. I think that having Otsune be the late bloomer would probably be the best way to accomplish that. Of course, I could introduce a middling form, without a picture to help things along.

[User]
Simba knew that finding out whether or not the other creatures were friendly was a good reason to talk to them, but it was still a risk.  "Yeah we have to find out some way, but we should still be careful. In fact if something happens you may want to hide behind me. My size should at least make me appear as the bigger threat."

While Simba hoped his companion didn't take his comment the wrong way he was more concerned about her getting hurt in case of a fight. Of course he was worried about himself too but he believed he was the physical stronger of the two. Nervously he made his way to the group.

[Assistant]
... Well... the... tiny... tiny girl who had latched onto her to hug her was cute at least, even if Ariana wasn't exactly too capable of focusing on that sort of thing. For a few moments, she took a deep breath. Her legs were cool? Whatever, she still had a spider for legs and that didn't exactly seem very cool to her. She wanted human legs. She wanted to be home, not... here, wherever it was. Why would she even have a spider for legs?!

Then the one scaly guy said... said he'd died to get here. Ariana shook her head, eyes wide. No. She hadn't died. How could she have died? She was just walking home when... there was no way that could have happened to her at all.

... At the very least though the harpy said moving out of the cave was a good idea... Ariana, even in her moment of fear and anger, couldn't deny that... maybe it'd help. Maybe they'd get back home faster.

Then the other lizard thing spoke.

"... Oh... because EVERYONE's accepting it as freakishly well as you, huh?! You... stupid, scaly idiot!" she snapped, "EVERYONE should just forget their families or whatever instantly, right?! You just need to shut up!"

Fury had overtaken her fear now. Oh, because she was upset and wanted to go home she should be patronized and scoffed at?! Her main set of eyes glared daggers at the scaly thing, her hands balled into fists. It was only a small amount of rational thought that made her turn away and start to head out.

Only because it might help her get home faster.

[User]
"...Whoa. I can see this going about as well as I'd expect, which is to say not very well at all," Hyng said, shaking his head as he slithered out towards what he assumed to be the exit to the cave. "Still, though... Fuck, I died, then? What did I die- oh. Right. Explosions. Metal. Water. Damn, I'm an idiot."

The spider-girl was likely going to have to come to terms with that eventually; not just that she was dead, but also that returning to her old life would likely be next to impossible. It was strange enough that they had reincarnated (and that he himself owed his Buddhist parents an apology for denying that aspect of their faith), but that alone was already a gross violation of the laws of science. To say nothing of the fact that half of them were fantasy creatures...

Maybe the insanity of daily life had jaded him to some extent. There was a possibility that that was the case. At the very least, it'd explain why he wasn't having a nervous breakdown.

The exit to the cave they were in led to what seemed to be a larger cave, which was... Admittedly pretty annoying, but at least it explained the relative dimness of the light in there. This cavern seemed to branch off in a bunch of other directions, but two things caught Hyng's attention.

One: The exit of the cave was wide open, and it seemed to be early morning given the light streaming in.

Two: The ground was littered with corpses, both human and not. Blood, of course, was EVERYWHERE. Mostly dried, though. Mostly.

"...What the flying fuck happened in here...?" Hyng mused, noting that most of the corpses had their weaponry and armor stripped from their bodies; those that weren't bare were usually mutilated beyond efficient use. Most of the dead had wounds that were pretty clean-cut, all things considered, so... In essence, the answer to his question probably didn't need to be said.

"Actually, you know what? Never mind. I'm heading out to explore; hell if I'm sticking around this place."

With that said, Hyng navigated through the battlefield, attempting not to move over any of the corpses or blood. Be it out of respect or out of disgust, well... Either would do as an excuse.

The entrance to the cavern, at least, was considerably less in terms of being a bloodbath. Contrary to the dreary atmosphere of that hellhole, the grass around the place seemed to have been untouched. Which was... Strange, but probably not relevant to the situation at hand. Damned if it wasn't trampled on, though, but that was to be expected.

"So. Uh... We just wanna pick a direction and go?"

The forest seemed pretty tranquil... Well, for now, at least. Hyng wasn't quite sure if that was a good sign or not, but there were probably better places to hunker down in than a cave full of the dead.

[Assistant]
~Neix~

Wooooow.

someone just went off the deep end. When did she ever say she was calm? The accusation just made Neix snarkier than she usually was. In fact, it sort of pissed her off and considering she already wasn't exactly in the most stable of conditions...well...

"Oh, excuuuuuuse me princess" She hissed at the spider. Huh, she could hiss. Good to know. "Not everyone has to freak out and be a whiny little baby like you do! I just graduated college! In fact, I had it pretty good. You think I want to fucking be here? Because I sure as hell fucking don't."

Yeah, okay, that was a little bit harsh but...well...she honestly couldn't help it. She just...well, she wanted to get out of here. That's what she wanted to do.

Turning away from the spider girl with a grumble, she followed after the snake ignoring anything else the girl or anyone else might have said for that matter. She didn't want to say anything else, or deal with them at the moment. Besides, as soon as she stumbled into the next room, her thoughts quickly turned into something else.

Something really bad must have happened here.

"Well, we missed a party." Neix mused morbidly. Too bad most of the stuff looked in fairly bad condition and looked like it couldn't be used with any degree of efficiency. She didn't linger though, she shared Hyng's sentiments of getting the hell out of dodge before whatever did this came back. She would rather like to not be made into lizard jerky.

"Well, we don't really have much of a choice, do we?" She replied to Hyng. "Hanging around here's a bad idea, and I don't think we're gonna find anything useful on the bodies." As morbid as that sounded, she'd steal anything she could from these dead schmucks if it mean she could survive better in...wherever the fuck this was.

[User]
As Simba made his way to the other creatures the group apparently decided to go somewhere else. Since he had no idea what else to do he kept following them, but he made sure to leave marks in case he wanted to go back to familiar territory. The lack of hands and the fact his claws weren't strong enough to leave easily visible markings in stone made anything other than the occasional pile of pebbles impossible.

When he approached the exit he noticed all the dead bodies and once again had to keep from freaking out, something helped by the fact that a lot of the corpses didn't seem human. Simba realized that if the group left the cave he might lose them so he and his companion had to hurry.  "I think we should start running."  He could only hope the others didn't take the sign of two catlike creatures charging at them as a sign of aggression.

[Assistant]
More commotion with the panicked and now accusatory little drider followed the other creatures' attempts to tranquilize her. Though unfamiliar with her new facial muscles –or lack thereof- Otsune managed a crude and rather leering approximation of a smirk, for she had been right, after all; some children made trouble not to get better but to get attention, and the show wouldn't be over until she tired herself out. Until then, all anyone else would be doing would be to add fuel to the fire. Leaving seemed like a very attractive option to the snapjaw, and upon spying the snake Hing making his escape, she wasted no time plodding along after him.

On the threshold to the larger cavern, she froze. The sight of carnage strewn about the floor of the cave filled her with horror and repulsion. Her fellow reptile voiced what ran through her mind: staying in here was not an option. While he navigated through the mess, she opted to lope around the edge of the cavern, discerning the walls via the light streaming in through a promising hole on the other side of the slaughterhouse. In doing so she evaded almost all of the viscera, as well as a good heap of nausea. The dry wit of Neix did not reach her, but Otsune did reach the exit before her, and emerged into the dappled sunlight of a green forest. The whole scene marked such a drastic departure from the sickly spectacle seen only moments before that the snapjaw couldn't help but feel at the complete mercy of the world. Of course, had she been human, she wouldn't have been much better off, anyway.

Two more bestial faces in the cave exit made four new visitors to the forest total. Otsune cast an eye at Hing, Neix, and Simba, and found herself wishing they weren't there. The whole situation came of as so confusing and insane that the presence of others only made it more unmanageable. Besides, what sort of help could she expect from them? Perhaps they would react to their new circumstances badly, or one of them would snap. The risks outweighed the possible benefits but a substantial margin, and Otsune decided that she would rather go off on her own. If one of them wanted to follow, well…she would cross that bridge when she came to it.

Slowly at first, she began to run. In truth she did not pick up much speed, since she wanted to be at least somewhat aware of where she was going. She judged that if she were human, the pace she set would amount to a jog, and to the best of her knowledge nobody ever jogged off a cliff. Regardless, she did not run for long. After pushing her way through a thicket of long grass, she discovered that she stood at the edge of a gulch. It fell for about five feet before turning into a mass of reeds sitting in molasses-brown water, buzzing with flies and stinking in a way her new senses couldn't stand. Disgusted again, she backpedaled out of the long grass and began to follow the gulch to the right—the direction from which the barely-moving water trundled. As she moved through the underbrush, she realized just how adept her new body was at running: she didn't feel tired at all. A jaunt like this would have at least left her haggard had she been her old self. When the ground began to slope upward beneath her, she felt as if she were in to something, and in short order emerged from a tangle of wildflowers onto the shore of a small lake. A look to the left determined that a beaver dam, or at least something similar in function, blocked the water from flowing down the gulch. The sun sparkled off the surface of the open water pleasantly, but all the same Otsune remained alert. She harbored no clue what might be waiting for her in this world, or from what direction some unforeseen threat might spring.


[System]
Age: 21

Gender: Male

Appearance: Dark-brown, short chic hair that is usually kept neat and styled in a charming manner that frames his angular face quite well. He is of mixed ethnicity - his father being Chinese and his mother from the States. Because of his multiracial traits, his eyes are colored hazel are more of a rounded almond shape. He has an olive-colored complexion, inheriting the darker skin tones from his father. Being Chinese-American, he stands at a shorter-than-average height than his fully Caucasian peers, but only by a little. Though sporting a thin frame, his athleticism over the years have made his body quite sturdy, though it doesn't quite show underneath his usual fitted clothing. For his attire, he usually wears things that are pretty casual but stylish with darker colors.

Personality: Charming, laid-back, and sociable, Justin is a young man who is in the prime of his years. He radiates youth with his optimism as well as show it by partaking in silly risks and living his days with a splash of adventure and mischief. His confidence is backed by his stubbornness, a disastrous combination that usually leads him into trouble. Still, he is intelligent enough to never put himself and those around him in any real danger, as he knows he cannot forsake the future he had worked so hard for.

Because of his casual demeanor, he is quite charismatic and approachable. He carries a conversation as smooth as silk and has the ability to dissuade most tension in a situation with his logical and refreshing words. He can be really understanding but conversely, it's difficult for him to open up - but he hides it very well. In most cases, this makes him quite the liar, though he tries not to without good reason. He is more persuasive than intimidating, which is both a strength and weaknesses depending on the situation.

Usually he is level-headed and can be analytical with his surroundings, and though his fuse is long, there are things that can quickly set off his temper and make him quite rash. But again, he is able to mask his weakness quite well.

Backstory: His father was a descendant of Chinese immigrants who had came over to the United States during WWII. Though having grown up in San Diego, California since he was born, Justin's father and his grandparents were quite traditional with their Chinese roots. It was only after his father was in high school, where he met his American mother, that his sense of tradition began to fade and instead became quite 'westernized' himself. So when Justin was born many years later, he was raised primarily on American values and principles, with his Chinese heritage being sprinkled in here and there.

Justin grew up in a household of an average, middle-class nuclear family with him being the only child. His parents are hard workers, with his dad being a small-time manager of a metalworking company and his mom a receptionist at a local hospital. He himself is in his third year of University, just finishing up the remaining of his pre-requisites to apply for an externship that would finish off his medical imaging degree. He is quite adept with his major, having taken interest in Anatomy and Physiology since his early high-school days. He knows a lot about the human body, as well as having the basic fundamentals of pathology and medicine ingrained in his head after years of hard studying for his future profession.

On his down-times, Justin participates in various cardio and weight-bearing exercises so that he may keep in shape for his kickboxing hobby in Muay Thai. Though he lives on his own now, he still frequents his parents quite regularly as he his close with his family. Though he is quite sociable at school and well-known, he only hangs out with a select group of individuals that he calls his closest friends.

Talents: Being a student of a major that branches off of medicine, he is quite adept at first aid and giving out diagnoses and prognoses. Though his initial knowledge is severely limited, as long as the pathology is not too rare or complex, he's able to establish a very broad idea of what it is, and therefor, can maybe procure some sort of temporary remedy, if not being able to cure it without proper medicine.

As a practioner of Muay Thai, he is capable of self-defense but only to a limited extent. He has a small sparring background, and has only been training for a year.

Other: He loves sweets, and usually carries around some sort of small candy in his pockets.

[User]
Cleo tried hard to keep track of what was said, but her head was spinning and she couldn't concentrate. It seemed that she was finally getting some panic in her veins. Not enough to freak out, but enough to feel a little dizzy. She resisted sitting down and instead decided to tell what little information was on her mind right now.

"I... I have a little sad man hanging from my phone and my text says that I slept over my birthday and that I could gather a present by a dropoff point." She looked at the one, who just mentioned the same dropoff thing and whose phone had gone off. "I am with you, I guess. I wanna know what this dropoff point is and what we'll find there." It may be risky and dangerous though, she thought.

She decided to share the rest bit of information she had with them too. "My room was.... I think 14. I didn't really look at the number to be honest. In my box was this phone with the sad man and a hatchet. It's dull though. Beside that I've got water and some food." She then pointed behind herself into the darkness from where she came. "Also that way there's a wall kinda thing made out of debris. I don't know if that means anything, but thought I'd mention it."

Cleo took a deep breath and slowly her mind went clear again. "I am sure those little things hanging from the phones have a meaning. And I am not really positive about mine."

[Assistant]
Outside of Room 9 - Gray Cièl

Gray nodded at Irina nearly happily. It was nice to know that not everything around here was insane. These people seemed nice, hopefully they could all get out of here, working together perhaps. "That'd be great, I think for the time being we should follow the orders on the phone, especially while they're not too difficult or out of the way." Gray said nodding at the girl and taking her hand. "You guys go deal with what you need to, we're going to go deal with this." Gray plugged her nose as Irina and instructed her to and had her lead the way towards the sad girl. It wouldn't be long before the smell of decomposition would refill the air around the two.

It was a disgusting thing to have to put up with, and completely and fully demoralizing. When Gray saw the girl she stopped dead in her tracks, gasping. She turned to Irina feeling her nose tighten and her eyes begin to well up. "Jesus," Gray began "shit" she finished eloquently as always. "So I have to find a key, any idea where that would be?" Gray said quietly looking at Irina, the girl had known where the corpse was, and thusly she was the intelligence on this one. From Gray's analysis – the girl had been dead for some time, but that was more of an educated guess than anything else.

Gray slowly approached the dead body and decided she'd check the pockets for any keys. She slipped her hands in while doing her best to control her gag reflex. She started with the pockets of the girls pants and continued over her shirt if there was anything concealed. Gray found herself staring at Irina instead of watching what she was doing for a multitude of reasons. She was cute, that was the smallest and least important reason. To control her gag reflex, that was a strong one, she couldn't bear the sight of what she was currently doing. Finally there was the fact that she had just met Irina, she had also forced herself to be weary of the fact that Irina knew where a dead body was. She wanted to believe that they could help each other but god forbid if Gray had to look at what she was doing. Finally she'd check around the girl's neck. In case she was wearing a key like a necklace or something else like that.

[User]
Rhiannon shot Tim a wary glance, deciding what she risked by answering, before fishing the phone from her back pocket for him to see.

"Yep. It was in my box of supplies. No dead body in my room to cover them up." She put the phone back and took another look at the corpse. What concerned her was that the corpse wasn't that  old. Little sign of decay and the blood was still fresh enough to be washed away by this foul-smelling water. As time went out she was finding herself less and less trusting of the nervous accountant she'd discovered. She breathed in shallowly, controlling her nerves with rhythmic breathing she'd learned from anxiety therapy, before trudging across the water-logged floor of the restroom.

"It's fine, you can stay there. I work with animals so I'm pretty used to blood and guts." There was a note of irritation in her voice; this man was clearly older than her, albeit not by much, but wasn't coping well with the situation. Privately, she found that the corpse did disturb her more than any animal would have but she put it down to the cause of death; some things would put anyone off their breakfast and she was pretty sure this was one of them. Still, for some reason she found herself calmer now that she'd run into another person here. If he was an enemy then at least she knew what he looked like and she could keep her eyes on him. If he was a friend then at least she wasn't alone in this place.

Turning her attention back to the corpse she noticed its eyes were still open so she reached out and gently closed the eyelids before sliding her hands under the body to get some purchase. With its clothes now sodden the body was even heavier than it should have been but she managed to heave it over rather than lift so that they could get the supplies underneath.

"Come on, get your stuff and let's go find out if someone else is here. You heard shouting before, right?"

[Assistant]
North Hallway above Room 16

Aedin smiled at the metal on the wall as he heard the hollow echo. That was good to know, and definitely something he'd have to investigate with the proper tools if he could find them. He could care less about the lack of messaging program as the only purpose of the phone right now was to be a source of light, albeit a poor one. The light, however, was enough to work by. He could get some decent scavenging done right now which put a grin on his face.

He picked up an empty can of food and looked it over. The label had worn off completely, but cans made for a great alarm when put together. There were about a dozen of the things in the pile. Food scraps were here and there all of which were totally inedible. He couldn't use the cardboard for much, but the empty bottles and cans could at least be somewhat useful. He picked up every single one of the bags, of the seven he counted four of them didn't have wholes too big to make them useful. He split the dozen cans between two bags and then filled the rest with the empty bottles.

"I'll figure something out to do with you guys." His tone was smug. "Maybe I'll invent a new art form or something."

Aedin quickly paced back to Room 16 and put the bags inside right next to the door. He then looked over at the body and frowned. "I can't have you as a doormat. You'd just stink up the place." It took him some effort, but he started dragging the body back towards the sheet metal wall. As soon as he got there he'd leave it in the remains of the pile of garbage and start searching for actual living people.


[System]
Age:
Seventeen

Gender:
Female

Race:
Human

Weapon:
Shotgun/Polearm
Sapphire is skilled in using two sawed off shotguns each about two and a half feet in length. From there the second form is as a sickle, it's like a scythe but more hand held. From the shot guns a bladed folds out on the side of the gun's muzzle. Part of the gun retracts so it can be easily wielded with one hand as melee weapon. In this form it is still capable of firing. For the third form the buts of the guns interlock and two pols extend from both of them creating a grip. The triggers from the shotguns realign themselves so both are easily accessible from the staff's grip. In this form Sapphire's weapon is about six feet long. The blades in this form have three positions, there standard position for cutting from unusual angles, straight out for stabbing and inverted so the blade is parallel to the shaft for side slashes. In all three forms the shotguns are still operable. However Sapphire prefers wielding her Anelaces, Morpheus and Phobetor.

Nightmare Blades
Sapphire's two daggers, Morpheus and Phobator, there names meaning Sleep and Nightmare respectively. Each disassembles itself into a two inch by two inch black metal boxes that clipped into leather bands that Sapphire is always wearing. The daggers are impact activated meaning they will transforming out of storage mode when any amount of serious impact force is applied to them. The assembled form will pop out with just enough force to get the handles into Sapphire's hands. Her favored method of drawing them is clapping her wrists together and having them shoot up into her hands.

Morpheus and Phobetor are specially designed. Apart from there special method of deployment both knives have a dust powered rocket mechanism in the pommel allowing Sapphire to increase the speed of her strikes or alter her momentum. There is also a dust cartridge slot right bellow the cross guard that will have a variety of effects based on the type of dust used. Fire cartridges will super heat the blades making it easier to pierce or sometime outright melt armor. Electricity rounds will electrify the blade making contact deadly. The blades on both knives retract, in this form Sapphire can clip the hilts onto her combat boots. In this manner she can use the rockets as a propulsion system.

Semblance:
Selective Sight
Sapphire has the ability to vanish into the background. It is not invisibility exactly; a better way to describe it would be that she is able to slip from the notice of others. Not invisible just unnoticed. It is most effective in darker settings and will not work if someone is expecting to see her. For instance if she is having a conversation with someone she can't simply disappear but if she is being chased and she gets out of eyesight of her pursuers she could slip from their perception leaving them rather confused. It is not always a conscious effort on her part and sometimes may simply happen when she is nervous or stressed out. The illusion only works as long as she stays inconspicuous. So if she starts to speak or does something that draws attention the illusion would be shattered. Because of this, it often gives people the impression that she appears from nowhere when she joins in a conversation. With concentration and effort Sapphire is able to use a burst of aura to apply this ability to others close by. When this ability is in use Sapphire's perception of the world becomes slightly unfocused as if she is viewing the world through a lens. It is not so bad that she can't run but important details may slip past her notice.

Personality:
Sapphire is the daughter of a famous hunter named Janus Rode who has trained her since she was very young. People often question her about her family but it is not something she likes to talk about much. She had an older brother who ran away from home some ten years previously. Her mother died in childbirth. She also has two sisters, one older, one younger but neither of them received the training necessary to enter Beacon. Sapphire is very closed off, she doesn't talk about herself and if asked will deflect the questions without giving any real answers. Sapphire often feels very isolated and alone but she is scared to relate to people, to make friends, to let someone into her heart. She is scared that if she does they may not like what they see. This fear she covers with snide remarks and sarcastic comments giving the impression that she doesn't care what people think about her. Despite her cold demeanor she does truly want to help people, she's loyal to those who are loyal to her and she is compassionate though she doesn't often let people see it.

Color:
Somber Midnight Blue

Emblem:

Appearance:
Has electric blue hair which is not quite apparent in the photo. She's average height at about 5'10". She is built light and agile and is very flexible which is a boon to her fighting style. She has a number of long white scars running over her hands which she uses white silk gloves to cover. She has similar though less noticeable scars on her back.

Theme:

[User]
Ears drooping, Shiro sighed. Smiling, he scratched the back of his head. "Ah, well I guess we went about this all wrong. I promise that after all this is done, I'll hear your story." His smile vanished as he barked a familiar phrase to Gren. "Gren! Eyes on me!" Forcibly exhaling all of his breath out to empty his lungs as much as possible, he then sharply inhaled to fill his chest to capacity with air. With a sudden thunderous roar, the air exploded with the sound of Shiro's activated Semblance, his face flushing red and veins visibly throbbing as he sustained his roar for as long and as loud as he could. [King's Voice]

Shiro felt the familiar electric tingle of his Faunus senses sharpening, as would Gren. All other living things in sight or hearing of Shiro would be slammed with the opposite effect, having their senses dulled severely. Gripping his axe, he lifted it and hefted it onto his back, flipping over the two faunus that stood in front of them. "Gren! Incapacitate and restrain them, I'm gonna pursue the runner! Inform Sapphire and Abel of the situation, we'll link up with them once we've gotten these guys to safety!" Barreling out of the same door he saw the deer faunus escape through, but before leaving the room, he stopped. Turning in the doorway to shout back at 'Mauve', he said once again. "Mauve! I'm sorry we have to do this! I can't let you do this to yourself! This isn't something you can easily come back from! We'll take care of you and I'll listen to your story! All of your stories! I promise!" Finished, he shifted his axe back to their sword & shield mode, ripping his sword from the shield. Practically tearing up the ground, he chased after 'Coral' the deer faunus and quickly gained on her. Once within range, Shiro leapt into the air and squeezed the trigger hidden in the hilt of his sword. With a loud bang! he fired off a Dust Shotshell and propelled himself through the air. Raising his shield arm, he aimed to bring the face of the shield down on her to quickly knock her out and stun her.

[Assistant]
Gren Orchid

Gren would have sighed, but he supposed intimidation wasn't really going to be something that would work. These faunas have lived most of their lives intimidated by others, so being scared by him was their only, and perhaps last, act of defiance. Looking at Shiro when he told Gren to do so, the tiger faunas roared as loudly as he could. This made Gren sigh and tried to remind Shiro of something only by mouthing the words. "Subtly?"

But what was done was done. Shiro ran off to get the fauna who ran for it, leaving Gren to handle the others. Easy. Using his Semblance he forced the friction of their feet to be immensely strong, preventing them from being able to left their legs and run. Only Shiro was spared this as Gren casually walked over to each of the Faunas, his armored helmet covering his face again. When Shiro was gone, he spoke his mind about the situation.

"I won't argue that what you want is wrong. It's a valid desire... But consider this. If you could chose to be human, what stops others from saying that all faunas should be human? They would now have the means to make it so. You think the humans are bad enough, those who can't stand to live with us. But just imagine what would happen if they suddenly had a choice to be able to change us simply by bullying and threatening. It's a shame that you're so willing to fight for this cause, here and now. We could have used someone with your passion. But you're my enemy now."

Putting the God Eater on his back, Gren went over to Mauve and Deneb. His hands shot and closed around each of their necks as he began to asphyxiate them. In his mind, he started to calculate how long he should hold each one of them to ensure that they would fall unconscious with minimal brain damage. Something he had a lot of practice doing. When those two stopped moving Gren dropped them, allowing his Semblance to keep them pinned to the ground. Than he moved onto the other faunas, who had to watch as he began to choke the consciousness out of each and every faunas. Some tried to fight, but no matter where they hit they wouldn't even cause Gren to tickle. When he came to the last faunas, Gren revealed something else about himself.

"You may think I'm a monster. That is true. I chose to give up being a faunas too. I made the decision to try to change myself because I felt it was what I wanted... And I regret what I've lost. I'm not going to let you all make the same mistake."

And like all the others, Gren choked out the last faunas, letting his body fall to the floor once he was properly unconscious. With a sad sigh, Gren than went about binding their limbs with whatever sort of cloth he could use as rope. It was a good thing his team members weren't here. He didn't want to show them this side of him. He liked to think he was still a nice guy who just sort of does bad things.


[System]
(Picture coming soon)
Age: 35
Species: Human
Appearance: Mocha-colored skin, long dark hair down to mid-back, dark brown eyes, slender frame. She holds a modest but classy sense of style.
Occupation: Traveling merchant.

[User]
The white-washed adobe home was warm, cozy, fueled by a cheery fire. Low, cushioned lounge chairs surrounded the space, the floors adorned with rugs of warm reds, browns, and golds. The scent of incense filled the air. A middle-aged man with a round face and a kind smile coaxed his violin to sing with the bow, a light, cheery melody. The sweet notes pulled a smile to his lips as he eyed his family -- his wife swaying in place on her seat opposite him while threading a new tapestry as his daughter sang along, her voice low from being out of practice but still melodious.

This was a childhood memory of Miria's manifest into a dream, though she wasn't a child here. Though her parents looked and acted the age she remembered them as a girl, she was a woman, her current self, her dark hair now glinting in the warm firelight, swept back into a loose bun that rested at the nape of her neck. Her russet skin was smooth, unscathed by the unforgiving years of travel in the desert, her brown eyes bright with a light unfazed by sorrow and struggle. She wore a beautiful yellow sari draped over her shoulder with a matching top and petticoats, her sandaled feet smooth and uncalloused, her demeanor cheery and carefree. She could carry on like this forever, spending the night away with her family.

Tamal was with her, sitting behind her, his strong arms wrapped around her waist. She could feel his body against her back, lean and firm, and his chin resting on her shoulder. Such an embraced stirred within her memories of his touch, her body warming in anticipation for later. His breath tickled the nape of her neck, his snow-white hair caressing her cheek, and she could occasionally hear the flicker of one of his long jackal ears. Tamal was the household servant, the jinni slave, not much older than her; he was a boy when he first began to serve. In Miria's real past, she and Tamal hadn't become lovers or even friends until after her family's death. In this dream, however, not only were they lovers, but it was a union accepted by the family without the slightest concern. Tamal kept Miria, this dream version of her with her head in the clouds, grounded and focused, while she hoped to show him how bright life could be beyond the daily toils of jinni life. They were perfect for each other, or so Miria believed at that moment, reliving the blissful, ignorant perspective of a young woman. Oh, if the real world was so accepting, so carefree....

"I'm going to get some water," Miria whispered, reluctantly sliding from Tamal's embrace as she rose to her feet. She glanced behind her, enraptured by his gentle smile and those bright amber eyes gazing up at her with such tenderness.

She disappeared into the kitchen, inwardly giddy of Tamal's smile, eager to return to his arms, the sounds of her father's playing and her mother's laughter soothing to the soul. When she did return, however, her world changed in a blink of an eye.

Suddenly, she was normal, gritty Miria, older Miria, body cloaked for travel, the light in her eyes gone, her hair brittle from the dry air and heat. She stared into her family's main room, her mother and father replaced by two bodies, blood splattered on the walls, along the floor, everywhere. Dread and despair washed over her, for this scene was all too familiar, all too wanted. She did not want to relive the sight of her dead family all over again, a high, long wail escaping her as though seeing it for the very first time. She dropped to her knees, her gaze resting on what she knew she would find -- Tamal hovering over her father's body, blood on his hands, his shirt, his face....

Unlike the first time and unlike the subsequent dreams, Tamal did not raise a mask of sorrow to her with a carefully rehearsed explanation of what happened. No... this time, the truth was written all over his face, a much starker contrast than the fresh blood against his pale features. His eyes were filled with hate, his mouth curved in a sneer of pure malice, and he slowly rose to his feet, a predatory demeanor to his every movement.

Miria caught herself through her renewed despair, remembering that she had been through this already. She knew what Tamal had done, knew that he was dangerous, and knew that her family's ashes had been scattered to the four winds long ago. The dagger she always kept concealed near her body was gone; she glanced around the room for any sort of weapon to use, trying hard not to look at the motionless bodies on the floor.

"He had it coming," Tamal growled, his voice low, throaty, heady with madness. "The things you never knew about... the things he did to me... and the way she just turned the other cheek... your precious father, your loving mother... they had it coming."

As Tamal spat out the words, Miria rose to her feet, willing her body not to tremble, commanding herself to be strong. How could she be strong in the face of such an atrocity, in the wake of such a malicious gaze?

"And you, living your perfect life, ignorant to the darkness, will know what suffering is. You will join them!" With a roar, Tamal rushed forward.

Miria's resolve shattered; where was the strong woman she thought she had become? She screamed in alarm, turned to run away, and bumped into Curdle. The impact sent her stumbling back directly against the charging Tamal...

...who dissipated around her like a broken cloud of smoke, disappearing into thin air like mist chased away by the morning sun. Miria fell back, her gaze widening in surprise when she took on the familiar form. It was the old jinni from Renna, though he wasn't old at all now. She shouldn't be able to recognize him, so altered his visage was by youth, but somehow she knew and remembered.

"Y-you!" She glanced around warily, her heart thudding against her chest as she looked for Tamal. He was nowhere in sight. The bodies, too, had disappeared, along with the blood, but Miria's fear lingered like smoke trapped in a room, slow to fade. "W-what... why....?" Try as she might, Miria could not find the words, fragmented questions tumbling in her mind, lost in the fog of her fear. What did he want? Why was he here? How was he here? Did he have anything to do with Tamal?

[Assistant]
When Curdle stumbled into opening his eyes, he was not confused to find that he had become she, or that there were warm arms wrapped around her waist and music in the background. A tangle of bright life and loving memories. A skein of story wrapped the wrong way 'round. Dreams never cared to concern themselves with what should be, and these were not his besides, but still, he immersed himself in this moment of family and felt love and was loved in turn and that part of him that was trapped enjoyed it, and that part of him that was still beyond her reach yearned for the same.

S/he wanted this life, grasping at the edges to fold up the image as though it was a quilt they could cover themselves with every evening. Her and Tamal, Mother and Father, music, weaving, laughter, love. Even had he remembered that, awake, he knew none of these people, Curdle would have wished it real. Maybe it was, it felt so sure, for all that same distant part of himself marveled at the heady notion of jinni and human together, in love. In the kitchen, he rejoiced in the familial wealth that abounded here, and did not notice the moment when she turned back and he remained, rooted in the gift she had accidentally given him.

He didn't notice when the laughter stopped or when the violin fell silent. He didn't see the atmosphere's shift from open and inviting to cold and angry, frightening. But he did hear her wail, the distress sending him staggering as the kitchen walls fell away and the floor gave out beneath him, forcing him back to a scene charged with hate. Oh… how the walls wept red. He forgot his fear of the unknown mind beyond this room and watched as the woman who sold tapestries in the market faced her fear and her love and her hate and could not defeat it. The revelation was too much.

But layered now over the whole of it was a level of resignation and regret that delved deep in sad recognition of the strange jinni's broken justification. The moment was lost. He stepped forward, a body materialising of its own volition, wanting to reach past the woman's frozen form to pull Tamal out of reach of the blood and whatever hurts he had been given to lead him to this madness. But also, out of reach of the woman whose innocence, ignorance if you will, had been sorely abused. Neither should have had to suffer this story, and true or not, he couldn't have said, but it felt real and that was all that mattered.

He was too late though, of course he was, years too late in all likelihood, he had no place in the timeline of these dreams. Still, as the jinni charged, a sword leapt to his hand from a scabbard that had not existed before the sword was unsheathed. He would protect the woman, drive her demon away. All he managed, however, was to impede her escape, and he blinked through tears as she fell and Tamal vanished. Everything vanished but the white-washed walls and the lasting effects of traumatic emotions.

Slowly sheathing the sword, Curdle wiped at his wet cheeks, and struggled to recover from what he had witnessed. With a prouder stance, his chin shaved close and his skin less worn by wind and sun, it might well have been only his light eyes and grey horns(still working on their curl now) that gave him away. Gradually, however, as she stumbled over her recognition and he grew into himself here, where he did not belong, the jinni's beard and horns grew out and the lines deepened around his eyes until he stood with the slight hunch of a man worn down by time. "I, messi." His voice cracked in the quiet of her suspicions and he didn't know how to answer her ragged questions. She'd dreamed him, was dreaming? He'd fallen in. And how did one fall into a dream? Especially when it was not their own.

"I made a mistake, I think." In many things, he had been mistaken. In giving up. In leaving behind the urn. In involving her. In being caught in her dreams. In witnessing secrets… "I am sorry."

He wiped at his eyes, fingers trembling as the dream gave them a weight that didn't belong, regret clear in his voice and expression, but there was nothing else he could do. Nothing more that he could say, or ask. Nothing, except what he perhaps should have done in the first place. "Very sorry, messi. Please, I am needing your help."


[System]
Sex: Female

Description: Cassie stands about 5'5" tall and is slim but somewhat curvy. She has long black hair which she usually wears tied back unless performing, when she wears it loose and flowing. She has dark green eyes and a gracefully pretty face, looking genuinely beautifully when she smiles. Her entire body from her shoulders to her ankles is covered in colourful tattoos. Stars, hearts, birds, moons, suns and flowers can be seen among the colourful mix along with sailing ships, webs and roses with thorny vines. People who study them may notice that they seem to change position on her body, though no one ever sees them moving.

Date inducted: Late 1700s.

Role: Former tattooed lady/trick daredevil

Offensive Power:
Her horse riding act has left her limber and agile – while nowhere near as graceful as Aurelie, she can perform basic acrobatic moves quickly enough to get herself out of harm's way.

Her tattoos function as both armour and weapon: when fighting shadows they wrap and flow around her like form-fitting armour, and two long streams of colour flow into her hands which she wields as whips of multi-coloured light against the darkness.

Biography: Born in a family with a name and title but precious little money, Cassandra (as her parents insisted on calling her) grew up in a world of genteel poverty. She was taught the arts that a young lady of the time should know, though her parents despaired of her spirited temper, and was raised to snare a rich husband. When she was 20 she as married off to a rich slave trader move than twice her age. Cassie tried to make the best of the match, but her new husband soon proved to be a cruel, vicious man who treated her much as he might one of his own slaves – something he'd bought and can use as he chose. Which included breaking her if he wished.

She endured marital rape and his emotional and physical abuse for the next eighteen months; she tried to flee to her parents but they refused to help her, claiming it would disgrace the family if she left him and forced her to return.

After enduring another beating, Cassie snapped. She dismissed the servants for the night, sending them off to see the circus that had arrived that day, stole a knife from the kitchen and while her husband slept that night she stabbed him. Repeatedly. The only thing she felt as his blood splashed against her skin was a tired relief that it was over – he couldn't hurt her anymore. She set fire to the house as she left and released the horses from the stables, taking one to ride away to a safe distance and watch the house burn.

At this point the mysterious ringmaster offered her his deal – join him, and everyone would assume Cassandra Bellefontaine had died with her husband; no one would look for her in the circus. She accepted without hesitation, and when they shook hands the bruise and blood on her skin transformed into colourful tattoos, concealing the marks of the abuse she had suffered. She's travelled with the circus ever since; as tattoos are no longer a sensational thing on a woman, she's graduated as a daredevil horseback rider.

Other:
Nationality: English/British (obvious from her soft accent).

She professes to be bisexual, but seems to prefer other women as partners. Whether this is natural inclination or a reaction to the abuse she suffered is debateable.

She never talks about her past, but shows a marked empathy for others who show the signs of physical or mental abuse.

She has two horses – one pure white called Spirit, the other jet black named Sable. She knows they're not original names, but so what?

Audition: "And now, a tradition that dates back to the first days of the circus – Cassie our daredevil rider!" The lights went up and wild gypsy music began to play as a pair of horses, one black, one white, galloped into the ring. The small girl watching the show clapped enthusiastically as a young woman rode on the white; her long black hair whipped out behind her as she raised her arms above her head.

The two horses galloped side by side around the ring. The girl watched spellbound as the young woman spun smoothly from one impossible pose to another, standing upright with both arms raised, swinging out of the saddle and re-mounting in a quick swirl of limbs so she faced backwards until she remounted again, her body lying sideways across the saddle, head downwards. The girl gave a gasp as the young woman performed a quick backwards roll on the horse before vaulting onto the black.

She rolled up into a headstand, and the crowd cheered as she performed the splits upside down, holding the pose for one full gallop around the ring.

The small girl gasped as the young woman swung out of the saddle, hanging almost upside down for a minute, one hand dangling to the ground before she swung back and up to her feet. She vaulted backwards, balancing on her hands before springing up into a somersault that left her standing with one foot on either horse. She raised one arm, acknowledging the cheers from the crowd. Streamers of colour seemed to flow from the limb.

The child applauded until her hands ached as the horses reared up in unison and then stretched out their front legs, lowering their bodies as they too took their bows.

[User]
Cassie hummed softly as she brushed Spirit's flank. She always insisted on caring for her horses herself, especially after a performance. The horse dropped its head slightly to nuzzle her shoulder and she smiled, giving the animal one last affectionate pat.

"A decent show tonight," she murmured. Her mind started to drift back to her act as she checked her horses were comfortable for the night. There was a new trick she wanted to start working on tomorrow - the Cossack Death Drag.

Sable lifted his head, snorting. Cassie looked up, catching a glimpse of white a second before a small origami bird fluttered down to land on the fence next to her. So. It seems that we have a real show tonight. She gave a slight smile as she packed her brushes away.

The slightest ripple of movement travelled along her back and arms, tiny wisps of colour drifting up into the air and disappearing like smoke as the tattoos on her skin changed; the painted birds spread their wings in preparation of a hunt, the tightly curled petals of a rosebud half-unfurled.

She was smiling as she made her way to the gate.

[Assistant]
Yulio paused to check his watch regularly, gazing at the human guests who left through the front gates. The attendants, mindless men and women of wax and clockwork who never spoke and always stood silent, began to lock the gates and seal the tents behind the mortal revelers. The Circus was closed for the evening and would not return again- not for the foreseeable future. One by one the paper birds returned to perch on his shoulder, and one by one Yulio unfolded them to reveal a name- it seemed many of the performers would be unable to join them tonight. Either their shows had gone poorly or they were not up for the hunt.

One way or another, the show would go on.

The antique watch in his hand ticked away, and as the moon above rose higher into the sky, the lights around Yulio seemed to dim. His vision focused on the city, its glittering electrical points of light extending across the horizon, until he caught wind of that otherness which defined the hunt- where the Circus seemed to revel in excitement and awe of showmanship, the Harlequin found his roots in the trickery and devilry of a young con man from America. Like the Loki and Coyote of old lore, the creature delighted in promising Paradise, only to tear the rug beneath one's feet to reveal the Pit.

The birds he'd sent across the city this night bore fruit as one reported back to Yulio, seeing through its eyes, the vision of a woman- plain clothed for a night out this summer. Dark-haired, wide eyed, and sweating profusely. Like a club goer who'd imbibed a bad batch of drugs. The difference here being the dark strings that rose from her wrists and ankles and the circle she was drawing at the foot of the Vienna State Opera House with a tube of lipstick.

She plans to open a gate, then, Yulio thought with a frown. And she'll do it e'en before we leave.

Snapping out of his reverie, he closed the watch, clapped twice and summoned one of the wax attendants.

"Bring the carriage and fix four horses."

The attendant wordlessly bowed and walked off to the animal tent. Meanwhile, Yulio turned toward the first to arrive.

"Cassandra," he muttered, removing his hat whilst in the lady's presence, "I will need you to ride alongside the carriage. The Harlequin will have many minions on the field afore we even leave the circus. Keep pace- we go to the old City Opera house. You must ride round the field to keep the minions close and prevent them from causing mischief throughout the city. I do not want a repeat of London if possible."

"Thomas." Yulio placed his cap back on. "We hunt a woman who is enthralled to the Harlequin. After you cut the Bonds which hold her, I hope you will refrain from your... usual activities until our job is done. And Charlotte, divine what you can of this woman on our way there. If we cannot cut the bonds, we will have to force her out of the Harlequin's sway."

"Barlow, Faris, you will keep the minions of the Trickster from Thomas while he breaks the bonds. I will assist you in that endeavor."

The instructions given, the animal tent opened while a black carriage trimmed with gold barreled out, four white horses fixed and ready while the wax automaton held the reins. Yulio opened his jacket, plucked a pair of paper birds from a silk pocket and let them flutter into the air- one for the driver and one for Cassandra. Both would home in on the bird at the Opera House, leading them to their quarry.

"Before we leave, are there any questions from any of you?"


[System]
UNOPENED VIDEO MESSAGES (3)
RECEIVED TWO DAYS AGO

FIRST MESSAGE:

Hey, babe. Your beautiful, loving wife, here, live from Home Bay of the one and only Omega Station. It's about 5:20 PM right now, and we just wanted to check in and let you know how excited we are to have you come home tonight. Right, Benji? Benji! Come 'ere. You wanna show dad what you made?

Dad, look. We made your favorite. Steak and broccoli, and mashed potatoes with some lumps. The um, the steak is well-done. Well, this one is. Mom's is - it's on the counter, over there - mom's is medium-rare. We made two different ones because I know you like yours well-done.

That's right. None of that dry, tough-to-chew business.

It's not so bad. I like well-done.

Oh, yeah? Then you and him can fight over that one. I'll enjoy my own juicy steak.

It's fine. I can always make another one.

Alright, Mr. Chef - go help ARI set the table. Mm, you should have seen him earlier, he thinks he owns the kitchen. Heh. Anyway. We're obviously excited to have you back home later. It's been a long three months without you. We've got out the fine china, the red carpet - the whole nine yards. So get here safe. But quickly. Haha, I love you. See you soon.

SECOND MESSAGE:

Honey? Where are you? We waited up for you last night - I eventually just had Benji go to bed, told him he'd see you in the morning. But you didn't come home last night, you're still not here, and you're not answering your phone... I'm not sure what's going on, and you know me, I'm getting really worried... And now we've just gotten a notification that something's happened up there? They won't tell us exactly what but Henry - I mean, Captain Burchill - just issued an official announcement that Home Bay was on lock-down until further notice? I'm really trying not to panic here, for Benji's sake, but if and when you can, please let me know what's going on. Let me know you're safe.

THIRD MESSAGE:

Ryobi - I don't know where the hell you are, or what the hell you're doing, but you need to get your ass home. Now! I'm starting to hear yelling from outside, and there was a really loud crashing noise from earlier, and then the alarms started blaring! The alarms, Ryobi, they're only to go off when the prisoners... Oh, god... The Hudsons from next door just sent a message telling us that they'll be leaving for the bunker at the edge of the Bay in a few minutes. I've told Benji to pack a bag and we're heading there with them. ARI is coming with us, too. If by some miracle you're not... Just... Please come get us. Or let me know you're okay. We'll be safe there, just meet us at the bunker. I lo-

[User]
It was almost as if Janetta could feel the image being singed into her psyche, something more terrible than watching a coffin lowered into the ground. She had followed Ryobi as far as the corner of the table in the middle of the room though couldn't bring herself to go any further. But like the day of her mother's funeral, Jan forced herself to keep her gaze forward at the scene, demanding herself to give the Captain and her officer the respect they deserved. Death did not excuse anyone from their responsibility, and now was not the time for her to shy away from the person Burchill needed her to be.

Still, it didn't lessen the pain that came with seeing two innocent lives taken away - and for what? The two were no closer to answering the question than when they started. Janetta lowered her gun and clenched her shaky jaw, allowing the surge of emotions to run their courses through her before she released the breath she didn't realize she had been holding. Burchill would tell her it was no time for grieving; she now had a whole ship to look after.

As if on cue, Ryobi spoke from behind her, officially giving life to her new title. He sounded quiet and detached, but that was to be expected, as he knew just as well as she did that there was still work to be done. Ah, yes - Dr. Widmher. He was right, she probably was the next target for whoever was running this horrible escapade. Janetta nodded in agreement, tucking the pistol back into the waistband of her jeans and clearing her throat.

"Right, but first, I want to take a closer look at these two. We might find something..." Looking over her shoulder for the receptionist, Janetta spoke as warmly as she could, knowing the poor bot must be nearly as freaked out as her human companions. "Kitt, could you... Could you please come and scan the gun for prints?"

Kitt, who had been lingering near the doorway, unwilling to archive what she already knew to be true, padded forward slowly. "Of course, Captain Pryce." Lix, the medbot that had lost its arm and consequently powered down, was enough of a sad thing to see. But she wasn't going to avoid her own duty, especially if it would help solve the mystery of who killed the Captain in seemingly cold blood. She came forward and joined Janetta near the bodies, scanning the area and the gun specifically for clues. After a few moments, Jan, who had crouched down to examine Benton's beaten figure more closely, heard Kitt from behind her. "The gun has Henry Burchill's fingerprints all over it, Captain," she reported, "It seems that he was the last person to have control over this pistol."

Janetta's confusion colored her face as she straightened up from her position over Benton, glancing momentarily in Ryobi's direction before she lowered herself between the gun and Burchill's body. With newly determined eyes, she scanned the scene, gaze trailing from the gun, to the holes in the man's head. Then, an idea came to her. She gently picked up one of his hands and examined it carefully, taking a minute before doing the same to the other one.

"Ito, look... Burchill's knuckles are bruised and bloody," she said, her voice low and steady. "That could just be a coincidence, an act of self-defense if someone else did come in here to kill them. But... Only Burchill's prints are on the gun. If someone else had been in here, why would they have left it? And- And those scratch marks on his face and neck? It looks like a struggle... To get him off." Her voice trailed away as she turned her head in order to find the officer and lock him in a gaze that urged him to catch on and finish her surely impossible thoughts.

[Assistant]
Ryobi approached the two bodies hesitantly. Death was not entirely a stranger to him, but avoiding it had been one reason he accepted this transfer. Inmates killed or attacked each other on Omega, but far less frequently than in Tokyo, and his coworkers rarely received fatal attacks. But this... this was almost too much.

His footsteps slowly shuffled forward, each quiet thud bringing him closer to accepting his Captain's mortality. From a distance, it was easier to compartmentalize, to simply treat them as bodies. He knelt next to Jan and examined the Captain's knuckles, the same conclusion coming to his--

Keep her happy, and you'll reach the top, mark my words.

--mind. The Captain had always been... would always...

Ryobi drew in a deep breath, attempting to stabilize himself, but the breath drew in the smell of blood. Burchill's blood. Blood that Ryobi might as well have spilled himself.

If you have a problem with that, talk to the warden.

Ryobi looked over to Jan. "I uh..." His voice almost squeaked, and Ryobi quickly cleared his throat. "Perhaps he was defending himself from Benton? Or maybe..."

I didn't request this post, but it suits me, Sir.

Ryobi shook his head and stood up. He needed to put some space between himself and the deceased. "Kitt, I know this isn't your speciality, but please scan the entry and exit patterns. I want to know if the caliber matches the gun." Ryobi walked away from the scene towards the large window overlooking the station and leaned against the glass.

But it suits me, Sir.

[User]
It was all Janetta could do not to follow Ryobi away from the bodies, to give into her own grief and turn away for at least a moment. Everything about today should have been the stuff of nightmares, impossible once eyes were opened. She could not have known what was going through Ito's head, but if it was anywhere near the caliber of flashbacks trying to cripple her with the tainted image of a bloodied Burchill, she could imagine. Eventually she did rise from her place near the Captain so that Kitt could move in and see what she could see. Jan made her way to stand beside him at the window, arms folded defensively across her chest. The two stood there in silence, probably watching clips of interactions with the deceased play one after the other inside their minds' eyes, before the silence was broken by Kitt.

The bot, unsure really of how ballistics worked, bent down to scan as Ryobi had asked, taking note of the measurements of the holes in Burchill's temples before comparing them to the few bullets still snug in the pistol's clip. After a moment of calculation, and another for realization, Kitt's strangely downcast tone permeated the heavy air. "It's the same from what I can tell, sir. The bullet fired into Henry Burchill seems to have come from this gun."

Somewhere inside of her, Janetta already knew this. Her face remained stoic and she continued to gaze absentmindedly through the window, only vaguely aware of Ryobi beside her. Further proof of her theory sank in between them. Finally, a murmur: "What are you thinking?"

[Assistant]
"What are you thinking?"

Ryobi looked incredulously back at the person who had asked the question. "You're insane. Completely insane."

"He said so himself. Get on her good side, and you'll go far. So, get on her good sides. You've always excelled at that."

Ryobi shook his head, unable to fully comprehend what was being said. "I'm not going to sleep with Jan. That's ridiculous. Just be happy with what we've got for once."

"I've never been one to be content with normalcy. You know that. I take what I can get. That's how I got you. That's how you got your job. And that's how we'll get on top, just like the Captain said. You're not going to flake on me now, are you?"

Ryobi sighed and looked over at the sleeping toddler nearby. "Of course not, Sayako. I'd do anything for you. You know that."

Sayako approached, a broad smile filling her face. "I'll always love you, Ryobi-kun."

"I love you too."

~ = + = ~

Ryobi rested his forehead on the window pane, looking over the station. This was too much. He thought he could handle it if he looked at his deceased friends as bodies instead of people. That quickly proved to be impossible. A tear rolled down his cheek, and he wiped it away, hoping Jan didn't notice. "They must have had to kill each other," Ryobi replied quietly. "At this point, I don't care why or who was at fault. We need to keep moving."

He drew in a deep breath before pushing away from the window. "Can you lock out system controls from here? Shut everything down: airlocks to the ports, elevators, anything nonessential. We need to keep the prisoners away from the civilians, and we need to make sure the doctor's okay. After that, we'll just round up the prisoners, get them back in the cells, and re-open the station."

His grip tightened around the handle of the pistol at his side. "Easy, huh? What could possibly go wrong? We've got to make this right, no matter what."


[System]
As depicted wearing the military uniform of her noble house, which is what she's going to wear in most occasions. On the shorter side.
Callsign: Ramrod, assigned to her by the others. She thinks it means "ramrod straight" but it just refers to the size of the stick up her ass.

Age: 30

Character Archetype: Stuffy Noblewoman

Character's Guiding Motto: "Fachwissen ist der Grundstein des Rittertums!" (lit. Expertise is the cornerstone of Chivalry! There's a very long and boring story about how this came to be the family's motto as a result of their actions during the Age of War. It's in German because they take their familial LARPing very seriously.)

Character's Fatal Flaw: Complete unwillingness to bend princples. Acting the part of a proud knight is important in every single action and interaction, even if there's no honor left to defend.

Character's Expertise: Decorum, Swordfighting, Diplomacy.

Nationality/Allegiance: Lyran/House Daschke (defunct)

Background: House Daschke effectively no longer exists. When it did exist, from the early 25th century until about two years ago, it was a minor noble house ruling over the small Lyran Commonwealth planet of Poulsbo on the Marik border alongside the (comparatively) more famous House Astra. Despite their relative obscurity, the planet's proximity to FWL space meant that it did see action often during the Succession Wars and proved itself at least somewhat useful to Lyran national interests. As the second-in-line to the family title, she still insisted on being trained to the same degree that the heir presumptive, her elder sister did. She excelled...but that didn't do anything to affect her position in the family at all. She was committed, however - even if that meant she'd be stuck as retainer to her sister for the remainder of her natural life, she wanted to see House Daschke proliferate and expand.

House Daschke did not proliferate and expand, mostly because it was successfully scattered to the four winds after a sudden and unexpected betrayal by House Astra. To condense centuries of political intrigue into one sentence, the other nobles of Poulsbo saw House Daschke as being far too sycophantic toward the interests of House Steiner in opposition towards the near-independence minded nature of Poulsbo's population. The events of the takeover were confusing at best, and at the end of it, Ingrid was left running for the hills and presumed herself to be the sole living member of House Daschke - thus, Duchess apparent.

So far were these hills that she managed to end up at the complete opposite end of the Free Worlds League. Most of her ancestral funds had been spent in a failed attempt to regain Poulsbo with no progress made and little else to show, so she basically just threw herself at the first mercenary command that would take her - Gawain's Green Knights, joining within the last year.

Vehicle: An OSR-2C Ostroc given the edgy pet name of Susser Todd, the pride of the Daschke family line. Previously well-maintained through prior generations despite the 'mech's relative rarity, it's probably in worse condition now that Ingrid's been piloting it without the support of a noble house.

[User]
Ziska

---

Ziska heard screaming. She heard talking. Her head hurt. Her face hurt. She could taste something metallic in her mouth, streaming slowly between her lips. Blood. Her own blood. She ran a hand along her head, until she felt a stab of pain that left her cursing. The cut was deep enough. It would keep bleeding. It would annoy her. Smashing a hand angrily the nearby circuit break panel, she spoke calmly to herself,"Get up. Get up. Get up...Get up, Ziska."

The leg actuators spun with fresh power as Ziska carefully moved her throttle, giving the shaken battle computer ample time to register the granular movements. Trying to see through fresh layer of red, Ziska gently moved her pedals, trying to find purchase on the ground beneath her. Metal groaned, demolished armor plates twisting, and then breaking off as the RVN-3L began to move. Somehow, improbably, the battered light mech stood up. Lying down was death. Standing still was death. Fighting was probably death. But Ziska had almost died several times. It didn't bother her. It didn't worry her. They'd drawn blood. Her blood, but she'd cut them too. The active NARC beacon still flashed happily on her HUD. One way or another, there would only be one RVN-3L standing.

Forcing her BattleMech to stand, Ziska wiped the worst of the blood from her face with the back of her hand. The comms chatter annoyed her. Killing was a business. A job was supposed to be done cleanly. She didn't need her feelings to kill. She didn't hate the Crimson Fists. A job was a job. A kill was a kill. But better them than her.

"You talk to much, you all talk too much," she hissed, shivering with a fresh pang of pain that dug into the front of her forehead, Doc wouldn't be happy, Reya would probably complain, and the Colonel would have some helpful advice Ziska decided with a heavy note of resignation. Not bothering to key her mic. Let them think her wounded. Let them think her already dead. They'd find out soon enough.

"Giggles," Ziska said, shifting her wounded RVN-3L into a shuttering gate as she ignored the alarm klaxon and warning symbology that glittered in front of her,"Kill this trash."

They needed to kill the enemy RVN-3L. They needed the ECM back. They were out of time. The other RVN-3L had to die. She wouldn't weather another volley of LRMs. Her RVN-3L wouldn't survive more LRMs. She had no armor left for the Longbow to sandpaper. It was time to gamble, Ziska knew, it was time to be clever, and it was time to see how cool the Crimson Fists were under fire. Hearing the tell tale swoop of burning rocket engines, Ziska saw a hail of LRMs thundering towards the enemy RVN-3L. She didn't miss the single SRM missile that followed soon after.

Deftly dancing to the side, Ziska aimed her own weapons at the RVN-3L and let loose another alpha strike. Overkill was the only kill as Thrice Hanged had always said.

[Assistant]
" Looks like we got ourselves a talker, gentlemen," Aroxy grumbled sarcastically. The other crewmembers cackled at the chatter of radio static. They'd long learnt to deal with intimidation and threats during the long course of their campaign. All of it was mere play, mere theater meant to mess with your head. A moment of hesitation or fear was an opportunity to exploit and the Crimson Fist knew exactly what we was playing at.

The entire crew braced for any impact, Takka ready to readjust the bearings of the tank at a moment's notice. The thick clearing of the forest line was not good tank country but any cover was better than getting skewered by a laser or being blown to smithereens by an LRM. Aroxy couldn't believe their crew's luck. In their arrogance, the three Fists had focused on the mechs they had continued attacking rather than the tank. The Wolfhound hadn't even glanced in their direction. It was the best target rich environment a tank crew could ask for.

Helma didn't wait for Aroxy's permission as she loaded another AP round, the chamber coughing out a empty brass shell before her black oil-coated fingers inserted in a fresh round. Ansel meanwhile adjusted the spray of their LMG towards the Wolfhound, sending a hail of round towards the mech as it lumbered towards the Raven Hawk. It might as well have done as much damage as a spitball but it was better than nothing.

" Finish off that son of a bitch Wolfhound and get a lock on that chickenshit Jenner that's harrassing us!," Aroxy shouted. As if on cue, the SRM batteries on the Merry Go Round's cupola popped out, aimed at an upward angle towards the swerving Longbow. The barrel was already in the process of aiming towards the crippled Wolfhound.Takka had already seem to read Aroxy's mind before the words had even left his mouth. The familiar sound of Merry-Go-Round's cannon made his ears bleed. The acrid smell of rocket fuel then hit his nose as a barrage of SRMs were let loose towards the damaged Jenner.