[System]
CS:
Race: Earth Nymph

Position: Hunter and Member of the Fall Court

Age: 1,500 years old; Appears to be 32

Personality (Fae type has effect): Old in age, this beauty of a nymph still prefers to be called a "Lady". Years of war with the Fae has hardened her heart, making her seem very cold and uncaring at first. Getting to know her may seem to be a challenge, but bear with it and she'll die for you and do all that she can to help and protect you. Loyal beyond a fault. Past the cold there is warmth. Being analytical by nature Tarani is sometimes mistaken for being "slow", however, she is simply assessing the situation and every possible scenarios.

Once times of merry come, she will be merry!

Being a Hunter, plus a member of the Fall Court has made Tarani a cunning, forked-tongue woman--persuading many to bend to her will. If not that, then there is always the power her age and dedication has brought her.

Appearance: Fae Form -- At six foot tall, Tarani's Fae form looks ethereal, and more like a spirit than a ghost. Appearing somewhat translucent. Instead of eyes she has medium-sized sockets with the sides slightly upwards (Elf-Eyes). Instead of skin he body is all shades of earth tones--like a camouflage when in wooded areas.

 Glimmer (Glamour) -- A form she likes to take on more often than her Fae form. At Five feet and eight inches, Tarani dawns an Old World Victorian style of clothing when appearing at events, matters of business, or Court Affairs. Flowing midnight-blue hair right past the small of her back, with crystal-blue eyes. Round face, with slanted sockets and pointed ears. Fair skin, almost pale; very soft and silky. Hour-Glass shaped frame and medium build. Medium breasts. Two tribal tattoos--one on each arm--adorn her body when chooses to where sleeveless clothes.

Background: Growing up for Tarani was only the beginning of her ambitions for power and wealth--which comes in many forms. Being the middle out of three children was the main cause for her ambitious ways. Not to mention that Mother showered her elder sister with affection and love, while the youngest son gained all the favor and loyalty a Father could give. What left was there for Tarani? Especially since in her family it wasn't necessarily the oldest who inherited the fortunes and assets of the Dásos, but the eldest Daughter. That Tarani no other option but do what she had to do to gain what she deserved, and if that wasn't going to be love, then it was going to be respect, knowledge and power.

Maturity for Tarani was achieved at only a few centuries, her natural talent alone already quite elusive and impressive. Instead of relying on her natural talent she decided that studying lore and ancient texts written by Fae long "gone" from this realm to unlock all of her potential was a much more efficient was to spend her time. Doing just that did in fact give her the satisfaction of power she so desired...but more power can always be gained, and current power can always be honed and perfected.

With this power and new-found sense of right, Tarani tackled the next thing on her bucket list: Respect. Acquiring respect was the difficult, and probably most hardest part for this still young Fae. She had but two options: Rise against her family and take a chance of acquring the Rights, or forsake her family. Tarani went with the latter. one of many scars already bearing down on her heart. She never let her scars deter her from her goals, or slow her mind--always focused and determined.

Deeper south in the forest Tarani and her family resided in was a medium sized town ran by a band of nasty Brownies and some quite tricky Pixies. Tarani's gaze was set on this town and with in a few short hours, the Brownies and Pixies had either dispersed or been killed in the battle. Here she made her home in the southern forests of the realm.

When Tarani had reached the age of 1,500 she had acquired everything she had ever wanted. She gained knowledge and power by many centuries of studying and training. She not only gained respect, but more power by acquiring a spot in the Fall Court and doing anything she could to appease Lord Tegvan O'Aenges-Mor.

[User] Between his own physical condition and the shock this beast brought to him, Max was still a little show on the uptake, and he only really processed the last bit of what the creature asked him. His name. "Uh, Max." He told it, "Max Napras. What's yours?" He asked as he stomach growled.

[Assistant] Galahad heard a loud metallic noise, distant but close enough that his fae hearing could pick up on it. His head whipped in the direction of the noise. He saw nothing, but he knew someone was there. He gestured for his men to follow him as he moved across the forest silently, a feat that had taken him years to master. As he passed by trees he checked for adversaries, but he found no one, until he came to a particularly large tree. He spun around to the other side gracefully and found a human girl, dressed in Victorian era clothing. Her hair was bright red, and she had bags in her hand. His soldiers raised their swords at the sight of her, but he motioned for them to hold their swings. The girl was afraid of them. "Who are you girl?" he asked in a harsh tone, his face colder than the snow that fell in Winter Court.

[User] Aisling studied the tall, and cold Fae before her. He could not touch her, not here in the Land of Fall. It would be a foolish move, one the Fall King would strike for the petty insult dealt towards him unknowingly by these fairies. Narrowing her grey eyes at the threatening Fair Folk, she tried to banish her fear with cold indifference. "You are on Fall Land, no power do you hold here." Adjusting the bags, she stepped from the tree after steeling her nerves. Musing over the idea of hurling one of her cans at them, a potential threat of iron, but decided against it, should the Fall King become displeased over the action. "Poachers! Be gone and leave what thou thought to take! Laws of Fairy you do break!" She declared, her steps keeping her moving away from the Fae that spoke.

[Assistant]
Cymbeline had spent most of the morning walking about the forest, day dreaming. She was barefooted, and dressed in a white cap sleeved frock that was trimmed in pale gold silk ribbon, and covered in luminous crystal lace. Her mother had made it for her many moons ago, as a gift for a fall harvest celebration. Her white skin looked as if it blended into the dress itself. She wore her long colorless hair down, as per usual. And though the ground was wet, and there were mud puddles around, her feet and clothes wear clean and without stains.

Unlike any other day, Cymbeline actually had things to do. The Wylde Hunt was descending upon the fall court, and she should have been helping with the preparations, but losing track of time was her specialty. Flying just above the forests canopy of leaves, she looked about for something to entertain herself with. She spotted King Falk's pet human girl being ganged up on. Cymbeline had dubbed her Ms. Marigold due to her red hair, and the dislike of calling her 'She who is born of ashes'. A ways off to the left she saw a Cait Sith fae taunting a human boy. That looked like fun, but she didn't wish to ruin the Cait Sit good time.

With a sigh of boredom she landed softly onto the ground next to the calm translucent ponds in the Summer lands. The bioluminescent fish and fae creatures that inhabited the ponds, all stared up curiously at her for a short moment until they went back to swimming around. This was one of her favorite places to be. This place was home to a multitude of clear ponds and tranquil pools of water, full of glowing little fish and jewel encrusted shells. The ground was covered in soft moss, and the area was surrounded by shaded willows and green summer blooming trees. Mushrooms popped up here and there under the plum trees, and around the berry bushes. When there was a breeze one could hear the twinkling of wind chimes, and jingle of tiny bells. Through the canopy of leaves the summer sun shone down creating light beams that made the place glimmer and shine.

Cymbeline sat on the ground and basket in the warmth of the summer land. She was an autumn fae, but sometime she believed her heart belonged to the Seelie court. The sunshine, blooming flowers, and effervescent life that was the Seelie always called to her. She loved her Autumn, but finding the beauty in it was hard when it was all you were.

[User]
Feoras bounces on his heels some and sighs heavily. This is the last day he could spend in the forest and he was...here. With a bit more pacing he gives up. He goes back from where he came and heads for his forests. Of all the places in his lands his forest was his favorite. He felt that the other forests were inferieor to the beauty they held. The trees were full of leaves and full of life while the pools of water were cool and held many summer water fae who inhabited them and enhanced their beauty. He walks through his forest silently with barely any thoughts since he knows his land well. His orange eyes becoming more of a honey gold, something few see from him of late. His hand sea to stroke the trees and foliage as he walks by them as if he wants to thank them for being there.
As he wanders he finds pools of water with someone there. He watches her silently for a moment before silently going into a tree to watch her better. She seemed to be fae, but she does not look familiar to him. He decides to watch her further before speaking to her.

[Assistant]
Lositay wasn't much interested in the Hunt. It was too direct for his tastes. He would much rather people watch on such days, but with the Hunt and the peace talks going on, it seemed like no one was enjoying themselves. Normally on days as boring as this he would lay in the branches of one of his great ent friends, but he was active in the hunt and left Lost to his own devices. He hopped from tree to tree looking for trouble. Others trouble of course as he was very particular to ride the line of right and wrong never to cross it. He came across an interesting sight. Aisling was going out today. Did she know of Falk's plan to hunt soon? Lost silently followed her as she passed through the Fall-Summer gate onto the Summer side. He didn't dare leave the Fall Realm today so instead he waited patiently.

Several hours had passed as Lost played his flute with the tune of the wind and the trees. He added a touch of careless abandon to his song. He had done this before during the Hunt. The few fey that passed into the Fall realm on this day felt a little more light-hearted than usual. An extra spring in their step during their time here. On any normal day this would be fine and welcome, but carelessness was deadly today. He would never know for certain whether the unknowing fey were caught or what would happen to them, but going back to hear of a good Hunt made hime feel like he did something.

Finally Aisling returned. She was probably the creature that fascinated him most. How this human captured the heart of the King was a feat Lost could barely dream of accomplishing. He would try to study her often, but never made any progress in learning her secret. Most of the time he passed it off as Falk's whim. Lust was his game after all, he must be able to figure it out if love were involved. She walked the path that lead by his tree. He had chosen this tree as it was especially large and the branches were more comfortable. It turned out that another band of hunters were out today as well. Lost watched with excitement as he saw Aisling notice them and futily try to hide. You were better off with your normal gait in the open if you were going to make that much noise hiding. The assumed leader of the group heard her as well and went to investigate. Ha, there are two dummies under my hooves today. He even said he knew the Hunt was coming. When Giomanch catches your scent together he's going to hunt you to the end of existence itself. He watched silently listening to the conversation between the two. This Winter fool should really learn that the Falk has eyes and ears everywhere in his realm. Lost was very content with the information he was gathering now. He was hoping that this Winter-born would leave her alone though. He would feel rather obliged to follow them or confront them and both were rather dangerous.


[System]
Viktor isn't done, but Raisa is!
Age: 42
Gender: Male
Home Station: VDNKh (Exhibition)
Occupation: Polis Ranger/Stalker
Appearance:

Faction: Rangers of the Order
Weapons:
::
::
Equipment/Items:
:: A harsh condition suit, for maximum protection on the surface - the material is durable enough to absorb the impact of unfocused small caliber ammunition, but not much else.
:: Viktor has all the gear a stalker typically carries: charger, gas mask, air filters, a modern metro map, at least three to four magazines of ammunition for each weapon he carries.
Abilities:
Veteran Soldier, Veteran Stalker -

Background: Will be revealed in RP!

Name: Raisa (Ra-ee-sah) Sokov
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Home Station: Kuzminki "Lone Station"
Occupation: Scavenger
Appearance:

Faction: Lone Station Survivors
Weapons:
:: 5.45mm AK-74 with a folding stock, mounted flashlight, foregrip & 3x full magazines
:: A metro-forged knife, not a perfect shape - but sharp as any other
Equipment/Items:
:: A courier's bag, hung and clipped over her shoulder - the straps let the bag fall as far as waist height.
:: Various metro-made ammunitions - she holds three clips of 5.45, two belts of buckshot shells, a full revolver magazine, and a full magazine designed for a Makarov PM.
:: Snacks and drinks to last a few days if used wisely. A metal flask of mushroom tea, a metal canteen of vodka, and some mushrooms preserved in tin foil. Not really appetizing, but there you go!
:: An outdated map of the metro, usually accompanied by a beaten-up lighter or small flashlight.
:: A universal 'trigger' charger, and a gas mask with two air filters.
:: Controversially, some marijuana!
Abilities:
Lone Station Grit -
Raisa hasn't gotten through the last five years of hell at this station by sitting back and hoping the station guard will deal with all of her life-threatening problems. From the age of fifteen, she's been watching, learning, and eventually taking part in the use of lethal weapons to defend the station from its many threats, man or mutant. Raisa may still be young, but she's a tireless fighter.
Metro Scavenger -
Even though the area around her station is ridiculously dangerous, Raisa manages to find time to nose around where few others have tread before. Where few others might have run from, if they'd heard a sudden noise. She isn't afraid to venture where others fear, fortunately having never run into an anomaly or a situation she couldn't back out of with a few mere scratches. Whether through luck or just the fact that she isn't scared to look, Raisa finds useful items that others may need, or be able to craft into something better.
Background: Will be revealed in RP!

[User]
(I'm going to be gone for a week. Hopefully, it won't have died by then, but here's my post.)

Malta looked about, the smuggler come adventurer come bootlegger come stalker on the surface, near Sevastopolskaya, or Lone, the ruined sight of apartment buildings hit by the blast a usual sight to see here. Tomas clambered over a fence, breathing heavily through his gas mask, as he raised his Bastard, looking around. He had another 25 minutes, and there were infrequent stalker posts across the surface, that he could raid and grab filters from. The mutants weren't that active today, as the slush buckled under his boots, as he moved into an alley, a little moisture in his gas mask as he looked about. Today, he was headed for Sevastopolskaya, and he guessed he had another couple of minutes walking to get to their surface entrance, before taking a look around inside. And he had business to make with a few people there, as well as getting a delivery. Things to sort out, he reminded himself. The tunnels were too infested of late, and he didn't mind the surface as much as others. There were few radioactive pockets, and the ones that he knew of he could avoid in this area, so he he was content with that. Pushing over a low wall, he saw a pair of mutants run past, as he kept his head down, letting them go. Breathing, he moved forward, Malta moving into the shell of an apartment, as he saw flashlights up ahead.

Getting down, he stayed behind the wall of one of the rooms on the second floor, the sound of some sort of men passing by. He could hear them talking. No radios, they were yelling at each other. This was going to get noisy. Checking his Bastard, he just waited. They were searching each and every room, they were going through this place. He could go around, or stop these fuckers. Malta guessed this was a stalker team, looking for things. It wouldn't matter if they were affiliated with anyone. Malta knew on the surface, it was kill or be killed, if you were Red Line or Reich or Ranger or VDNKh. It wasn't a concern. He kept himself aback, as he heard the door move in the room he was in.

The man entered, wearing a gas mask also, and winterized equipment, searching with his revolver, a weapon that Tomas reminded himself was perhaps a little inadequate for this type of work. And that Tomas now was in a position to take the man down. He didn't waste his time. Knife out, he felt the man turn and yell, as he slashed it into his throat, the man trying to get himself ready as Tomas kicked him down and stabbed him twice, kicking off the man's gas mask. His collegue ran down the corridor, with a combat stance and his weapon raised, yelling back. Tomas cocked the Bastard, and moved to the door, spraying around the corner.

The noise of a body dropping was an indication. Dead. He peeked round, and pulled his mask off, grabbing the filter out of it and keeping it for safe keeping for his own usage. Malta looted whatever else he could, what little they had. He didn't need any more weight, but he had a few items that Malta could sell, a few bits and pieces that could fetch a penny down in the Metro. A few books, some Tolstoy, remarkably. Scrap metal, it wasn't much, but Tomas took what was best out of the lot. Malta moved back down to the other man, and did the same, finding his set practically useless. Looking around, he exhaled, looking at his watch, keeping an eye out. Murder was no longer a problem. He didn't like it, but they would have shot on sight. And nobody would now care that they were as dead as a doornail, as he continued onto Sevastopolskaya.

[Assistant]
"Hey you! Passport!" The four men approaching the one hundred meter checkpoint of Kitai-Gorod looked up sharply, looking at the seven men sitting beside a fire, just behind the fire, a big 7.62x54mm machine gun. The seven men of the checkpoint all stand up. Big strong armored men. Helmets and shemags on their heads. One of the men, with a big double barrled shotgun on his shoulder. This thing isn't one of the Armory or Market made Duplets. This is an honest to god before the war shotgun. All sleek, with long steel barrels and wooden butt. The four men in the tunnel all raise their hands slowly. All of them decked down with big heavily laden backpack and bags. Merchants by the looks of them. They have weapons, but the seven Kitai-Gorod men are not so worried. Three of the bandits step forward and begin to go through the bags of the four traders by the looks of it. Out come horns of ammo, food, water, drinks, flasks of vodka and other beverages of choice. Items that these four out of the tunnel intended to trade here at the station or beyond, but all of this seems to be pay for the guards here. As one of the bandits gets to the last man he suddenly bolts, back down the way he came.

Stanislav sighed and leveled his shotgun. But held up at the last moment. He grinned instead, "Naw, not gonna waste ammo on that one. All alone down the line, if the Darkness don't get him, something else will. Nosalies, Watcher maybe. Who the hell cares. He dies either way." The other bandits all laugh in agreement and send the remaining three down the line, ignoring their protests that almost a third of their wares have been taken as "toll". Stanislav the big man with the shot gun grabs himself some bread, and a few beakers of vodka and sits back down.

As he does he hears the telltale growl of something, then a hiss and a scream of fear. Stanislav laughs, "See? What'd I tell you." A howl, like something calling other things to arms can be heard followed a few moments later by the scream of someone being taken down by several large hungry predators.

Stanislav makes no faces, he just cracks open one of the beakers and takes a good pull from the contents, "Ah, mushroom vodka. The good stuff. Likely from VDNKh. Just like that bag of tea. The really good stuff." He laughed loudly. One of the men stoking the fire, no one paying attenion that maybe 200 meters down the line, someone is being feasted upon.


[System]
Mikhail "Misha" Volkov

"Taking a life is easy. If you do it right, it can be as easy as simply waiting for it to happen. What is dangerous is when you stop caring about who or why and start to simply... enjoy it."

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Character Summary
Aliases: 'Misha'

Age: 32

Birthday: June 8th
Race/Species: Dea Al Mon
Gender: Male
Birthplace: Dea Al Mon, Kaeleer.

Jewel color:
Birthright: Red
Offering: Gray

Class/Caste: Prince

Languages:
Common
Dea Al Mon
Occupation:

Saboteur, Assassin. Usually takes works from noble houses plotting against other houses or even against themselves.

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Appearance

Height:
1,90m

Weight:
80kgs

Eye Color:
Blue eyes.

Skin Tone:
White

Body Type:
Tall and slim.

Hair Color:
White.

Hair Style:
Long, sometimes tied in a long ponytail, sometimes untied.

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Character Psychology

Sexuality:
Heterosexual
Relationship Status:
Single
Personality:
Mikhail's personality is an interesting topic. Normally he is a very amicable guy. Most of the times he is easy to approach. Often enjoying talking with others, the word 'kind' seems to perfectly describes Mikhail. People often enjoy having him close by as he is generally a very good company as he is always a calm and quiet guy. He tries to avoid unnecessary confrontations and draw as little attention to him as possible, often preferring to keep his opinions to himself if he sees they could draw the wrong type of attention to him. Regarding social situations, he will rarely approach someone, but if people approach him, he will mostly always show to be a calm and friendly guy.

Mikhail fears being betrayed by someone he trusts, so thanks to this fear, he avoids any serious relationship. He is especially careful around blood female, as he knows that love is an even more effective way to control someone than craft. That doesn't mean he dislikes females. He greatly enjoys reading romance books & etc.

Despite his placid and calm smile, there is one part of his expression that he cannot change. His eyes. Even with his calm, kind expression, if you look deep within his eyes, you can see an almost... frightening coldness... A calculating and penetrating gaze that seems to analyze everything that happens around him carefully. Although no one who saw Mikhail's 'normal' appearance could even think about it, this faint coldness on his eyes hide the darker side of his personality. Cold, calculating and cruel. When 'working', in combat or if someone is unfortunate enough to make Mikhail show this side, the aura of danger Mikhail exhales is almost palpable.

Habits:
- Training. From studying, stretching and keeping his body flexible to actual combat techniques and even things like training his balance and gymnastics.
- Always checking thoroughly the places he sleep. Be it an unknown inn or the same place he slept for the last week.
- Taking a few moments before sleeping to meditate, in part to keep his 'sanity'.

Hobbies:
- Cooking
- Reading, especially story books or sometimes studying.
- Training, specifically free running and gymnastics.
- Sightseeing, walking around and appreciating the small things such as the night breeze, the smell of the flowers & etc.

Fears:
- Ironically, even though he avoids relationships, he fears never having anyone whom he can really trust. Someone to stay by his side.
- Losing his freedom.
- Being betrayed.

Likes:
- The thrill of the hunt and kill.
- Training
- Reading
- Using 'training' as an excuse to go around the city to climb tall places and just enjoy the scenery.

Dislikes:
- Alcohol
- Being ordered/manipulated.
- Having others realizing who exactly he is or knowing his past.

Skills

General Skills
- Cooking
- Manipulation
- Lockpicking
- Anatomy and herbal medicine (including poisons)

Combat skills
- Using wires (both steel and craft made ones) as weapons.
- Daggers, knives and throwing weapons.
- Stealth, traps and ambush tactics.
- Infiltration
- Hunting

Magic skills

- Mikhail is able to create wires with his craft. These razor sharp wires are used by him either to create traps, ambushes or in actual combat by cutting or snaring his opponents. He has some degree of control over these wires. He can make them move as a projectile through the air, as they had weighted tips or simply make them almost weightless, as they were made of silk. He still cannot control their trajectory though or completely control their movement as in make them chase someone or make them just go and wrap themselves around someone while he does nothing.

- Sight Shield

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History

Background

Born deep within the forests of Dea Al Mon in a house of healers, Mikhail was entrusted to be his older sister, Eleanor's escort even before he was born. It was only natural for the one who was supposed to be the next head of the house to have an entrusted escort to her and what best choice than one trained since he was young by the house themselves? Born and trained with the sole reason of being his sister's escort, following her at all times, Mikhail was trained exhaustively. Assassination, combat, stealth, traps... The best way to understand an assassin and how they work was to be one. Never having a say in the matter, he simply followed orders. His fate, his future was already decided for him the very moment he was born.

Despite the fact that Mikhail himself shouldn't be treated with the same 'standing' or importance of his sister, it was undeniable that he cared about her. Not only thanks to his instincts as a blood male, but she was his sister after all. It was only natural for Mikhail and Eleanor get close, after all, he was practically together with her or watching her every single time he was awake. Their relationship wasn't one of a guard and the one he was supposed to serve. It was closer to one of a brother and a sister's. Mikhail wasn't allowed to be away from her, so the only thing close to 'having fun' he had was either reading books, talking or even studying anatomy and healing with her (watching her for so long made Mikhail really interested in herbal medicine, including their varied effects on many different races, the effects of poisons and how to make antidotes for them). Despite some of the most powerful women in the family being clearly unsatisfied with their relationship, after some time, they allowed Mikhail to be a bit 'closer' and present for Eleanor than just being a shadow, protecting her from the dark as it was good for her own development both as a healer and a woman.

But unfortunately, things weren't going to keep that 'peaceful' for long... Mikhail never failed his job. Nothing ever even touched Eleanor, but he never expected that the ones whom she should be wary of weren't outsiders... Caught completely by surprise, Mikhail just realized that he and his sister had been betrayed by the ones closest to them when it was already too late... On the night Eleanor was poisoned. After feeling unwell, she went to her room early after the dinner. Mikhail didn't even know what happened, until she never woke up the next day. With his sister dead and him being framed by her death, Mikhail did the only thing he could... he ran, leaving everything behind without even knowing who was responsible for such act.

After losing his sister, whom he had a deep bond, not only due to his instincts as a blood male, but due to his personal feelings as well, he fell into a deep depression. Without a home to return to, without anyone to rely upon after being betrayed by the ones he trusted the most, he closed his heart to the world, not allowing anyone to get closer to him. Being alone in the world, he started to work as an assassin to earn money. Taking a life wasn't hard, especially with his training. Being cold and effective like he was, contracts began to become common for him. But neither the bloodshed nor the alcohol were able to make him completely forget the pain of having lost his dear sister, of failing to protect her. Desperately trying to find relief to that agonizing feeling, his assassinations began to become even more cruel and ruthless as he tried to get rid of all the frustration and anger on his heart on his targets. It was due to this feeling that he developed an unique, extrmely cruel and brutal type of craft, creating razor sharp wires with his jewel. But nothing could ease the pain. Not the killing, nor the alcohol, not even the books, which did the completely opposite, reminding him of his sister even more.

When he was about to lose himself, he heard about a certain Black Widow in Terreille that, for a price, offered her services to anyone, without asking questions. After a long journey and reflecting about a lot of things, he knew what he had to ask her. The only thing that could get rid of that pain... He asked her to make him forget about Eleanor and what happened back in Dea Al Mon. After she was finished, Mikhail was able, for the first time in years, to enjoy simple things like the beauty of nature and the smell of flowers. The pain was gone. He felt like he got rid of an incredible weight he was carrying all those years. After spending a few months living in a small village surrounded by the forest, he learned how to smile once more and find balance between his old, cold self and the new person he had became.

Unfortunately for him, the mind spell wasn't complete. Even without remembering anything about what happened in Dea Al Mom, Mikhail was having strange nightmares every night, leftovers of the incomplete mind spell. Once again, he went to see the Black Widow, aiming to get rid of the nightmares, which were starting to affect his work.

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Additional Information

Other:
- Always carries his twin daggers with him together with a number of throwing knives with weighted tips and a few meters of an incredibly thin and sharp steel wire.

Theme Song:

[User]
Blood's Jewels
"Terreille in Trouble"

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@eclecticwitch The woman and Eyrien from Dene Nehele went to sleep after a long chat into the evening of that night. All parties shaken by the revelations, though none slept deeper than the three Saroth brothers. Their snores filling the rounding halls of the eyrie. A comforting sound for the Black Widow though perhaps not so much for Fatima, Lucivar, and Andressa. The Black Widow however remained awake longer into the night than the Queen or her men. Her fingers tracing the threads of a tangled web as she considered the shape of the Court that was forming. What she had seen was becoming reality and Faeril Ashkevron was worried it wasn't necessarily a good thing. The moon was lowering towards the horizon when she did rest, the Queen settled in the room behind her. No danger would touch the Lady.

@13org The morning came and with it the sky was a bright blue, with clouds that scuttled over the sky due to a quick and fierce breeze. The mountains of Askavi towered over the bowels of valleys and the forests that clung to the slopes like a skirt of green about the grey stone. Dark forms of Eyriens flickered high overhead as they went about their daily tasks. Aren was slowly waking as dawn broke into the valley over the proud peaks. Standing over it all like a dark looming pillar was Ebon Askavi. The Keep and lair of Witch. The Sanctuary of the Blood. There were plenty of rumors about the place that made the Blood of Terrielle wary of it. That it was shut to all, that there were horrors in those halls the Blood did not dare risk. Yet, every so often someone would be so brave or desperate to chance it. The small home that they had been directed to lay far above him, a staircase carved from the side of the mountain narrow and doubling back on itself. Yet at the top was a home carved a mountain's face. The windows sparkling from the rain of last night. The garden blooming in delight of the rain. The door looking battered but study as it dared any to approach it.

[Assistant]
Ashkevron Residence in Askavi

As an early riser, she awoke before the sun. Bleary-eyed from staying up too late the night before, she sat up and brushed messy curls back from her face. A yawn wracked her body, forcing her mouth wide open and her arms into the air to work kinks out of her back. The excitement of last night left her feeling a bit bruised, physically speaking. Shaking and fear and happiness. It had been a tumultuous evening.

The young queen busied herself with washing her face, combing her hair and dressing up from clothes she had stored away. Crafting them into existence, the simple woolen dress made by her people stopped at mid-thigh. Woolen leggings covered her legs and her usual leather boots kept her feet warm and away from the stone floors.

Fatima wandered down to the kitchen and after some rummaging was able to begin making a delicious pot of coffee. She made sure to make it large as there were likely others who would enjoy the brew. As the sun peeked through the windows she searched the kitchen and came up with some bacon, eggs, and the ingredients for pancakes. The tiny woman set about preparing a large breakfast for the eyrie. If the men who lived here, and Lucivar, were anything like her old court they would have a healthy appetite. And she enjoyed the old skill of cooking. She hummed an old tune her mother taught her, sipping her black coffee and setting out plates.


[System]
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Appearance: "Heheheee~ Don't go back that way, it's-"*BOOM*"-... Right on time! :D"
Abilities: Milly is, in spite of her young age, an explosives expert with an in-depth knowledge of how to brew just about anything you might need for demolition. She knows how to make small explosives, big explosives, explosives that will stick to a surface, explosives that will just flash without actually causing damage, if you need something blown up, Milly is the one to ask. She's also rather capable of laying traps, provided they involve explosives. She is also adept at predicting when an explosion will occur, and as she is familiar with the scent of gunpowder she can detect it by smell very easily. Due to her small size, Milly is also decent at infiltration, provided she gets to blow something up at the end.
Personality: Milly is rather friendly and enthusiastic, and eager to talk. Well, eager to talk about one specific thing. Explosives. Milly loves to talk about explosives. This may be because of her near-obsession with them and her tendency to use them for just about any purpose no matter what it is. Distractions, breaking through a lock, fighting, Milly uses explosives to do just about anything they could possibly be used for. She adores explosions to the point of almost lusting for a fiery blast of destruction, which likely drives her work to make more and more explosives. She is eager to help out the crew... by building explosives and explosive traps. However, she can also be rather temperamental and quick to anger. She is much more patient with constructing new bombs then she is with people in most cases. She dislikes her nickname of "Minnie" as she is self-conscious about her small size and underdeveloped appearance. However, she is confident she will grow out of it, insisting she is simply a late bloomer and in a year or two she will be even more mature in build then any of the other girls in the crew. Her payback towards those who anger her tends to vary, from planting flashbang traps in their room to putting small explosive traps under their bed, the former for friends and the latter for enemies.
Bio: Descended from a long line of explosives experts, Milly's purpose in life is derived from the success of her family in the field. To put it simply, Milly feels the need to display her explosives knowledge. Born to Eric and Danielle Nobel, Milly grew up learning about explosives. Indeed, from a young age, she grew more and more obsessed with them. Sadly, she suffered from illness early in life, which she insists explains her "late bloomer" status. She has long since recovered from her illness, and insisted in venturing out into the world to display her explosives knowledge. It became especially important to her after the accidental death of her father six years ago, which many people attributed to a mistake with his explosives. Adamant that her father would never make such a mistake, Milly left in order to prove the knowledge he passed to her was not the knowledge of someone who would have killed themselves with their own work. Admittedly she also left in order to blow up more things, but the original, chief purpose, the one closest to her heart, is to prove herself and prove her father did not make a mistake that cost him his life.

[User]
"Hmm... I think you've made a little mistake here, isn't it, sir?" Char had a devious grin on her lips as she pressured an old, slightly fat and half bald man, who happened to be a jewel trader, "The exchange rate of these gems is a little off, don't you think? The three small ones should be worthy 200 gold each, while this one should be 500. Together they should make up to eleven hundred gold pieces, minus the 10% exchange fee... the final amount should be of eleven ninety gold. So, why is it that there's only 965 pieces on this bag?" She said while jiggling the bag of coins in front of the man.

"You're crazy, little girl! I counted them in front of you, there's precisely eleven ninety gold there. If you keep on trying to scam me I'll have to call the port security." The plump man snorted and cold sweat dripped from his brow. He couldn't believe someone had seen through his trick so easily, much less a girl barely out of her diapers.

"Oh yes, please do that," Char said with a provocative voice, taunting the man, "while we're on it, why don't I show them those 25 gold plated steel coins that you've thrown together with the others? I'm sure they would love to know about it." She twirled her right index over the man's street stall counter and looked at him with upturned coy eyes, for all that would be looking, she would be just a gentle, innocent girl. However, only the man could see the devilish smirk that was below the her hood.

It was common sense that it was the loser's woe to be caught cheating in business, Char knew it all too well and she was sure that the man knew it too, the look on his eyes said that he was prepared to have his own blood sucked in order to preserve his business' reputation.

"Now then, how about we discuss the way you'll compensate me..." Chaser said while flashing her best merchant's smile, however the man saw nothing but the fangs of a money vampire.

[Assistant]
Melody didn't bother to look behind herself as she left the ship. They were all adults, except for known few members of her crew. Melody didn't exactly like the fact that Char was running around in this lawless cesspool by herself. She really didn't care too much, she knew that Char had her ways, but then again, pirates did too. Melody smirked as she made her way across the island, she knew there were people staring at her, and why wouldn't they? She had a bounty on her head, and although it wasn't very high (5000 gold) but it was enough to make pirates and low level bounty hunters consider making a quick pay day. She hoped they would try, none of these idiots could come close to capturing her.
 Melody stopped in front of a small store hidden behind a bunch of crates located in a corner in the middle of the island. She walked in and a familiar voice greeted her. "Ahhh... Is that Melody? An old guy walked up from behind the counter his small stature making him seem even smaller in the dimly lit space. Melody knew that it would be a bad idea to try stealing from here. THe old man was small, but he had many ways and traps in order to get even. She politely said hello to the man and continued, "Mark, do you have any more music disks?" The old already knew who his customer was, and although she frequented the store, he always managed to have at least 1 disc for sale to his friendly customer. She bought the only one Mark had, for 2000 gold. These discs were rare, and Melody was out to create a massive collection. Once she had bought the disc, she continued on going around town, hitting up a few bars, singing at some others for a quick pay, and then came back tot the ship with 10 minutes left before the 6 hour deadline. She didn't even try to enter the ship, instead she called out Milly. Melody didn't want to have to mess with the various traps on the ship She was after all carrying precious cargo.

[User]
~Jonathan~

When Milly responded enthusiastically, Jonathan beamed, albeit mildly surprised. This was the first time in a very long while that anyone had taken one of his inventions seriously! Song only shot down the logical fallacies behind his inventions, so he appreciated being able to share his creations with an aficionado. Perhaps he didn't have to worry about boring Milly with technical jargon after all!

"Yes, good points for sure. Depending on how you load it, it'll take some thought to make sure that you're not anywhere near it when it goes off," Jonathan agreed. "For closer range though, I think it would be best to just throw a normal bomb, and use the roto-bomber only as a long distance specialty weapon that just blows everything to oblivion- all in good fun. I put it together in the discus shape and designed the internal acceleration so that you could hopefully launch it much further than you could throw- perhaps even further than the average marksman's accurate gun range, say 200-300 feet, if you give it enough of a heave. It's always nice to take out your enemies from afar, though you can't quite feel the explosions as intimately, I'm afraid."

"But now that you mention it, the ability to remotely control the launch of individual spheres would be incredibly useful," Jonathan put his hand to his chin. "You could throw the roto bomber into the middle of a battle, and wait until the opportune time to launch them if you had some sort of controller... It could almost be a game of sorts! I'll give this some more thought. I've recently been experimenting with using radio waves as control signals. Maybe this would be a good use for it."

"The directional charges might be a good idea as well. There's also the case where the disk launches a sphere, but the sphere hits something and detonates near the roto bomber... though again, a controller would solve that problem."

"Ah payload wise, as I mentioned earlier, you can adjust how far the disk will shoot the spheres out between 10-30 feet, and adjust accordingly, though it's probably best to keep the roto bomber as light as possible by keeping the spheres themselves light. One of the nice things is that you can be quite versatile with this contraption. Load it up with flashbangs, fireworks, cupcakes even."

"But what's a good invention without a bit of collaboration? Why don't you hold on to the roto bomber and tinker with it how you like. Ultimately, I think you'll be the one with the most use for it," Jonathan said with a knowing grin. "I'll keep looking into radio waves, though perhaps you may find an opportunity to use it before I figure anything out."

With that, Jonathan let Milly off to her own devices, and begun fiddling away with antennae at his desk.

~Song~

On her way to the apothecary, Song caught sight of the young german noble. While he wasn't the easiest to read, she appreciated his presence aboard the ship. The little rivalry that Waldemar and Jonathan had begun to form kept her traveling mate just a little bit more on his toes.

She gave him a nod of recognition and a light smile, but didn't quite know what else to say to start a friendly conversation.

[Assistant]
"Guess I'll work something out." He said as he shrugged yet again and made his way into the town. He didn't have any real fear of being recognized as a pirate, after all, he was simply buying food. That wasn't exactly suspicious activity, unless no one actually ate around here. He felt the coin purse attached to his hip, the coins jingling and bouncing against his leg. Simone walked down various streets looking for some place to buy some food supplies, and wondering how he was going to get it all back to the ship once he got it. He watched the people stroll past him, almost a little wary, keeping a hand on his coins. Eventually, after a few minutes of searching he found a nice food store.

Simone strolled about the interior, taking it all in, thinking about what they needed. He didn't look forwards to dragging it all back to the ship and what not, but he supposed it was necessary. He bought a couple of small bags to carry his food in and set off to work at finding what he wanted. He quickly started grabbing what he thought he needed from one stall, muttering to himself as he did.

"Need that, that, and that, definitely that. Got any chili powder?" He asked quickly, before realizing there was a jar off to the corner. "Thank you very much." Simone mumbled as he slid it over to the rest of his pile. There was more than enough meat to choose some, and he grabbed some that originated from quit a few animals for variety. "How much do I owe you for all of this?"

"That would be..." The merchant counted it all up. "320 gold coins"

Simone whistled in slight shock. "All right, I suppose that's fair enough." He counted out and gave him the right amount of gold for the mass amount of food he got. Now... how the hell to haul it all back? He sighed loudly as he sorted it meticulously into bags and looked at them all around. "All right, I saw a cart outside. I assume that's yours right?" The shop keep nodded warily. "I'm going to borrow it, gotta get all of this food back somehow. You'll find it at the port, see you." He tossed an extra few coins to the shop keep and dragged his food haul to the cart outside. After loading it all up he started on his way, hauling the cart behind him. He made it all the way to the ship with the cart and hauled it on board, before loading the kitchen up. He had managed to get all kinds of fruit, vegetable, meat, spices and even some booze. he pushed the cart off of the ship and back onto the port nonchalantly and made his way back to the kitchen. There went his trip, he supposed. He decided he had a little time left here, and with that he would try his hand at cards in town.

He made his way back in and quickly found a gambling place; far faster than he found a food place. He got in and sat down at a card table, ready to try his luck and he placed his bet and got his hand.


[System]
Appearance: He is consistently seen wearing a black-and-white hood with baggy pants, a metal chain belt and a bare chest. He also has tough leather gloves with the fingers torn off. A black mark in the shape of a triangle sits on the side of his neck, and his chest is covered with small scars from various encounters.
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 143 lbs
Hair Color: dirty blond
Eye Color: neon red
Age: 19
History (Optional): While Mal would describe his history as "foggy", if it were clearer, he would probably tell people he came from a normal looking family with less-than-normal traditions. Both his mother and father were professors at a local university whose studies ventured into two very different types of magic. His father studied the embodiment of spirits and the energy surrounding them, while his mother studied Absence Magic, or magic that dealt with the lack thereof rather than the object itself. Darkness was a specific area of this study, but she also brimmed on other topics like cold, space, and other ideas that could only be defined by their lack of something else.

 Now, since his parents were lovers of the intellectual society, Mal grew up having access to many books and an abundance of tutelage in various subjects, some of which he jumped into excitedly, and others he did for as long as they held his attention (which was not that long, at all). Around eight years old, his parents noticed that he started to veer towards books about Mental Magic, specifically magical hypnosis and manipulation. They would occasionally find him attempting to hypnotize his stuffed animals with a silver coin tied to a string on their return from work.

 He was about twelve when a new Headmaster came into the picture with demands for research that were beyond obscene, and would terminate professors without a moment's notice. Even his ethical standards were quite lower than they should have been. Since their living space and amenities were funded by the school to compensate for the lower salaries, his parents were suddenly under a lot of pressure to perform admirably. Both of them were digging through their leads of spells that their last headmaster had deemed unethical just to make the ends meet on his massive demands.

 The issue was that many of the spells required living test subjects, which was something that neither of them had ever considered.

 Yet, it was Mal that came forward and suggested they test their spells on him.

Now, his parents objected quite heavily at first, as neither of them wanted to try these dangerous spells on their only child, but when the considerate Mal reminded them of their deadlines, and that they really had no choice, he was led into their research facilities late at night.

 Now, in terms of their research, the spells were mostly successful. Both were spells designed to give the target specific abilities for extended periods of time.

 When they hadn't accounted for was the mental strain it placed on the subject.

 Mal left the lab that night considerably different than how he entered. His physical features hadn't changed (save for the triangular mark left on his neck) but there was still something about him that was off. Maybe it was the way his body moved around.

 Or the fact that his face was twisted in a constant smile.

 His parents brought him in a few days later to show their results to the headmaster, presenting their son who donned a monochrome hood.

 The headmaster's mistake was asking for a demonstration… Mal willed his new magic into life, using its power that amplified his own to tear the headmaster apart with the ripples of shadow the ripped off his body. His parents stood with astonished eyes.

 And Mal took off out a window with a gentle wave.

 It was a few months later that a Mercenary guild took him under their wing, his master calling him "his secret weapon" while others claimed he was possessed by a demon.

 It was a year after that when most of them were found dead at the gates to a city.

 Now, Mal works for himself as his own terms. He acquired the title "Astaroth" or "the Demon Prince" due to his cruel and tantalizing methods, but most knew he was successful in the jobs that he took.

 But occasionally, people would find those searching for mercenaries dead in alley ways or in the backs of taverns, with a cacophony of laughter dancing gently across the air.

Personality: Mal has a very twisted sense of justice, and tends to show emotions in unusual bursts. His neutral expression is a large, twisted grin across his features, but usually this is a visual representation of his plucky attitude. This all seems to fall away, however, when he begins to speak. Mal's thoughts are brimming with intellect, but the way he describes them are rather sadistic (or even masochistic in some situations) and scary. He doesn't really have an understanding of what makes people uncomfortable anymore, even as he describes some of the easiest ways to cause pain to someone. Even so, he has an incredible fascination with magic of all kinds, and will pester people consistently with questions about it until someone tells him to lay off. He responds well to politeness, and if you show him the slightest amount of amicability he will treat you with incredible amounts of respect. A simple "please" is all you need to get him to stop asking questions if it's bothering you. Even his sadistic nature seems to be muted when he is in the presence of kids.

 Mal doesn't trust people in positions of power as he responds incredibly negatively towards oppression. This is where his twisted sense of justice comes in. If you offer him any possibility to assume that you might be the source of oppression for a group of people (or specifically children) he will find the quickest way to kill you, or worse, in the least amount of time. Mal has turned down high paying jobs because of their reasons, like a man wanting to kill another man in order to take his land, and instead has made the employer his target. He doesn't stick around for long after that, disappearing into the night like he had all those years ago.

In conclusion, Mal has trouble with people because he could go from friendly to trying to kill for a Freudian slip, lacks a sense of empathy or sympathy for others (especially when discussing blood and murder) but if you prove to be nice to him and to children he will be incrediibly loyal to you.

That is, unless someone tells him that you've supported oppressors, in which case you will have to deal with a very difficult and life-threatening conversation.

Weapons: In his travels, Mal has picked up a set of chains with heavy spear spikes at the ends of them, that he swings around with a little assistance from the spells given to him by his parents. Also, while it isn't necessarily a weapon, Mal carries a flashy red gem attached to a black chain around for "interrogation" purposes.

Abilities (Magic):
- Sigil:
 The mark on his neck recieved from his father's research holds the secrets to this spell. His father used his research in spirits and spiritual energy to seal a dark spirit into his body. While the spirit is not incredibly powerful by any stretch, it can amplify Mal's speed and strength in exchange for part of his life source. The dark spirit also works in conjunction with his mother's magic to fire dark blades of energy off his body when someone makes it past his defenses, despite the damage it does to his own body.

Drawbacks:
- Mal has to flee when an encounter has gone on for too long, as the spirit needs a lot of energy to keep moving.
- the Dark Blades cut Mal's own skin, hence the scars on his chest, and thus shorten the amount of time he can battle.
- Mal's lifespan has taken a permanent toll due to the spirit (he is expected to pass away around age 25)

- Shadow Control:
 Mal combines his Dark Magic with his chains to make them operate almost like living beings at his control. They can strike, wrap around opponents, or even wrap around his own body at command in order to defend him from attacks. In stronger forms, the chains will actually become dark snakes that will chase after prey at his command. In dire situations, he's been known to change his gloves into dark claws to use as melee weapons

Drawbacks:
- At this point, you've probably come to notice that maintaining energy levels is key to his success. He is not great when it comes to stall tactics, especially when both the Sigil and the Shadow Control are eating at his energy.
- Shadow Control requires verbal commands to operate, meaning there will always be a slight delay when it comes to his chains.
- At this level, Mal needs to be physically touching an object in order to operate his Shadow Control. He does this by holding his chain belt. He can get rocks and throwing arms to fly out of his hands at quick speeds, but he cannot control them in the air.

- Oblivion
 Mal's secret technique, saved only for the worst oppressors (in his own mind) or the most desperate of situations. This was the only magical gift he achieved on his own merit without the experimentation of his parents, but the loss of his empathy gave this technique a much larger space to operate. Using the red crystal on the black chain, Mal begins to hypnotize an opponent, using magic to increase his target's suggestability, and force their subconscious to operate outside of the concsiousness' will. With this, he can issue one command that they have no choice but to follow, and it is enacted immediately. The title of this technique comes from the only two times he has used it. With his Mental Magic, he erases sections of the person's mind. Once, he erased someone's memories entirely, another time he simply removed a person's intelligent thought, leaving them with the thought processes of an infant.
This being said, Mal also knows how to perform actual hypnosis, but that only works if the target is both suggestable and willing. It is impossible to naturally hypnotize someone to do something that they are completely opposed to.

Drawbacks:
- This spell can and will backfire if Mal tries to use it when exhausted. He can end up trapped in his own mental prison that could take weeks to break free from.
- Even when he has enough energy, Mal will be out of commission for the next few days. He will enter a comatose state as his body tries to recover from the extent of the spell
- He cannot use this magic in conjunction with other magic. The other magic will reject this spell and cause it to backfire as it could deem the spell dangerous to its host
- His target needs to be sitting down and unable to move. Their eyes have to see both the red gem and Mal's eyes perfectly clearly and from up close. This usually means they need to be tied down and forced to look at Mal
- This spell has serious strain on the mind of the user, sometimes forcing him to lose some of his memories, or make them incredibly fuzzy. For example: Mal cannot recall his parents names, faces, most of the rooms in his own house, or even what the city he lived in looked like after the two times he's used it.

Other: Mal has one keepsake from his old life and he has been known to go mental without it (though you could argue that his constant talking with it could be described as mental). It is a stuffed red panda named Buster that is kept in a bag on his back at all times. He grabbed it on his leave from the university.

[User]
Sable saw the hooded boy lashing out with a chain and reacted appropriately. Gripping one of her knives, she hurled it downwards to intercept the attack, deflecting the blow. Now that the air was clear, she focused her descent on snatching the Relic. The Crimson Streak could see it clearly now, reaching out for the treasure…

"There are no do overs."

What?

Caught off guard, Sable instinctive flashed her knife out, slashing once at nothing but thin air. The blade of her dagger clanked against the Relic, sending it flying towards the man with the blindfold. Landing on the ground, she wondered immediately why her legs weren't running after it.

That voice…it took her a second to realize that it was coming from her head. Or rather, it came from her head, as now she heard nothing but the sounds of the external world. How odd. It had sounded…taunting.

Sable frowned, interest in the green Relic gone for now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Want…..Her….."

The voice called out again, except this time in the presence of Yem. It called out, yearning for the boy to find it, to seek it out. Then all things would be aligned once more. The voice seemed to be coming from one of the many cavernous ruins.

A faint purple glow reflected off of the walls.

[Assistant]
Yem looked at the light shining from within the ruins and frowned. He had of course heard about the purple relic as well, and he acknowledged that whatever was in there could be it, but seeking it out now was too risky. He was wounded and had spent his strength fighting the Drider. Using the amulet had saved him, but there were too many unknown factors in using it again while he was in this weakened state. It could also be another trap, or something completely different trying to lure him into its cavern. He would definetly return here later, as he could easily find his way back, but now was not the time. For now he would rest and heal and divine as much as he could about the relic currently in his possession.

He turned away from the light and, supported by his spear, began limping away through the night. He reckoned he could retrace his steps to that old tavern at the crossroads by dawn if he kept up the pace.


[System]
* Age:185
* Gender:Female
* Race: Wood Elf
* Appearance:Grouchy mode activated.
* Personality: Umbra, or Gwathneth as she is known among her kind, has a huge attitude problem. Having being born in a rather closed environment inside the elven forest of Thaln, she has been instilled an exacerbated sense of superiority, and she is rather condescending to anyone who is not a member of the fair folk. Living among humans has fixed this at face value, but it seems that there is an underlying feeling of discomfort and annoyance which makes her appear aloof and dry most of the time. Umbra, does however respect the value of seniority and she will usually listen to those with experience, and the opposite is also true. Umbra also shares somewhat of a hunter's mentality like that of others of her kind, and will not hesitate to kill if need be. She is also highly respectful of nature and the environment, and one could say she is more friendly to beasts than to humans sometimes.

Even so, Umbra is still a well-educated responsible individual, who takes her words and actions rather seriously, befitting her status as daughter of one of the Forest Rulers of Thaln. She also seems to be somewhat ideallistic, a sign of being relatively young as an elven. She also enjoys dancing, singing, and bathing outdoors. (All three activities can be easily seen if her guard is down or if she is drunk). She also prays to the elven forest gods rather the mainstream religion.
* Brief Backstory: Umbra was once upon a time, one of the Forest Queen of Thaln's daughters. Somewhat of a spoiled, rather vivacious child, she nevertheless took to herself to serve her mother and her community as an exemplary individual, even though she could not hide the disdain at the time for other races like humans. Being somewhat talented at archery, she was quickly drafted into patrolling the forests at an early age. This did nothing but enlarge her sense of self-entitlement, to the point that she even snapped badly at some human guests who had been invited to the forest. Her mother, the Elven Queen of the forest, sick and tired of her attitude, commanded her to serve under humans for two centuries, in order to quell her arrogance and xenophobia.

The Queen picked the Order of the Iron Roses, as they were one of the most renowned orders in the era, and it was decided that Gwathneth would be obeying the Knight Captain and the senior knights in every regard. Adopting the name of Umbra Thalnbound because on how often people mispronounced her actual name, she served an inordate amount of time (six or so decades) as an squire, most likely influenced by her haughty attitude. Nevertheless, due to her lifespan and perseverance, she eventually became a full-fledged knight a decade ago.

With the advent of the new captain, however, trouble has stirred. Knowing her discomformity, and attitude some people have begun to whisper in her ear, after finding that she, too, had been born under a full moon like the current captain. And the new addition to the list of captains she has served, Fanilly Danballion, seems like a more annoying and clumsy caricature of a knight than actual one in Umbra's mind. So why not take over the captain spot, and make the rest of her penance a lot easier?
* Equipment: Umbra owns a well worn set of elven leather armor with mithril chainmail, which offers moderate protection with little to no weight. She also owns an exquisitely crafted elven bow and and quiver of arrows, as well as two mithril shortswords. She has a camouflage cloak and hood to compliment the set. She also owns another set of ceremonial full plate armor as well as a dressing sword, but worth noting that she doesn't use those to fight, as they slow her down considerably.

Unusually for a knight, she doesn't possess a steed, as she dislikes animals being kept tied indoors.

She also owns several crafting and herbalism tools, to make poultices and ammo, as well as books in elven and her own diary. She also has a wooden ring, enchanted so it will stay alive and never rot, that shows her connection to the Thaln Elves' ruling caste.
* Skills:Umbra's fighting has been best described it as "climbing atop of trees and shooting arrows like the rest of the wood elves". While the generalization is rather crude and insulting, it has a grain of truth as Umbra boasts excellent sight (even low-level light sight, like cats) and hearing, and she's been training with bows since she was a child. She's one of the top skilled archers of the Iron Roses. In addition to that, she is very quick footed and nimble, able to perform acrobatic feats in the middle of a fight most humans would struggle to never achieve, and move at speeds that the eyes have trouble following. Her fighting style up-close can be described as pouncing fast and hitting before the opponent can know what's coming. She uses her two shortswords for such a purpose, in order to overwhelm her opponent in a flurry of attacks before they can land a hit on her. She has however, trouble with people who are more of stamina and power fighters, and she can't take nor parry many powerful blows before her elven build gives out.

Perhaps Umbra's most striking feature is her ability to tune in with the nature. She's practically one more of the forest denizens, able to track down and hide with efficiency, as well as having the ability to speak to beasts and animals. This is why she doesn't keep horses. She hates seeing tied animals and she can usually commandeer a stag if need be in a pinch. Even though, her grouchy nature makes it so she can only speak and listen to animals, not convince them to fight for her like other more skilled people in these arts. She also can use herbalism knowledge and treat wounds. She even knows the odd healing spell or two.
* Other: We kinda need some more anti-Fanilly faction.

[User]
Tyaethe spun around, taking stock of the battle and realising things were about to get very messy unless she intervened. That was exactly what she had been trained to do in the first place, though... what good was a defending paladin that couldn't break up a fight without striking a single blow? Her sword was big enough to work as a shield for more than one reason.

Alette's view of the captain was obscured by a looming figure in dull plate, and the incoming attacks impacted instead on a shield far more durable than the squashy mercenary would have been. The Shark wasn't being entirely trusted, either: any attempt to get at someone beyond Tyaethe would have to go through her shield, her sword, or the paladin. None of those options were going to present a clear chance of getting someone on the other side.

"STAND DOWN! That man was a traitor!"

How did she know? Simple: the bodies were several days old. They'd only received word of something happening at the fort today and had arrived to find the mercenaries still finishing off its previous occupants. So either more than one person had suddenly gotten away after days of the garrison being slowly decimated... or the mercenaries were telling the truth. But all the corpses were days old, so that wouldn't hold...

[Assistant]
Klaus
Klaus was about to head for the main gate till she heard an order from her captain to guard her flanks. She was a bit surprised that Alexander survived that charge, but backing away seems like a wise choice for that spear girl. She realized that the Knight on her captain's left flank was a bit too aggressive, so she readied with a more defensive stance, making sure that she got her captain well covered on the right flank.

And which man is the traitor? She got confused over that senior's command.

[User]
---FORT DAELANTINE---

It was clear to Jarde that this woman was dangerous but at least reasonable. "Well, I don't want to fight. It appears we're at a misunderstanding here."

And with a loud yell from one of the knights calling for a ceasefire, Jarde hoped that would get everyone's attention and get everything straight. He wondered though as to what actually happened in the fort. The reason why the mercenaries are here was also a mystery. If they are indeed here not as the enemy, then why are they taking the fort from the attackers? Jarde hoped all these questions can get answered in a table rather than in a cell.

There was also another question in Jarde's mind. "Oh and, what's a stingray?"

[Assistant]
Nori reluctantly lowers her blade, though she fails to put it away completely. She wanted to trust the undead womans words, having heard nothing but good things about her from her mistress. But still, the spear woman was angling a blade at the captain, and she would be derelict in her duties if she allowed someone to kill her current charge. She continues to watch the Shark, moving to Fanlily's side. "Are you uninjured captain?" She asks.

Gillian was less impressed by the claim, failing to lower his weapon entirely. "On what grounds?" He asks angrily, voice carrying across the courtyard as he ignored the looks of concern some of the rank and file knights threw at him. They may have been willing to charge at an unknown enemy, but few in the order were brave (or foolish as the case may be) to ignore an order from the undead sentinel twice.

[User]
Tyaethe's presence and handily halted any attacks coming from either side, it seemed.

"..."

Fanilly lowered her sword.

"Iron Roses," she called, "Stand down."

It was perhaps not the decision she would normally have made. However, these circumstances were strange. Even once the fight had begun, Alette had used only the shaft of her spear and not the tip. She had only brandished the tip once further knights had joined the fight. And many of the mercenary force had seemed rather reluctant... it was a curious circumstance, and in good conscience Fanilly could not push the battle forward any longer, not once Tyaethe had stepped in, in a bid to halt the fighting.

She trusted Tyaethe had seen something to make her certain enough that the battle was in error.

Alette raised her spear and rested it on her shoulder, cocking her head to one side.

"You should be glad someone thought to take a look," the blue-haired girl commented, "Things would've gotten a whole lot messier if it had taken any longer, y'know? I definitely didn't want to have to kill such a girl with such a pretty face."

Doing her best to ignore that last comment, Fanilly stepped towards the spear-wielding mercenary, glancing briefly towards the rabbit-eared swordswoman..

"I am fine, Nori" she began, before turning to face Alette once more. "Show us, then."

Alette simply shrugged, and used her spear to point towards the door that Tyaethe had opened.

Fanilly signaled for her knights to follow, and approached.

Within, her vision was filled with corpses lining the walls. Stripped of all their gear entirely, a few days old judging by the way the blood had dried, their throats uniformly slit. Blue eyes wide with horror, she looked to the left and right. Lines of bound, murdered soldiers continued out of sight. It looked like the entire population of the fort...

"... They... were all tied up and slaughtered..."

"See?" interjected Alette, "We're no fools, why would we kill your soldiers? These bastards are the lowest kind of scum-sucking shitbags to do this kind of bullshit."

She gestured to the corpses scattered across the ground.

Borifos sighed.

"You speak as if you have a distinct advantage," he began, "I cannot claim to be as versed in strategy as Lady Alette, but I cannot help but notice we are evenly matched in terms of numbers. I would advise you to quit your posturing with haste, as I believe it can only cause aggravation in your superior officers."

Alrial, on the other hand, simply stuck her tongue out at the other elf, before letting out a huff and looking away.

"Ah, you're lucky," said the deathly pale girl, placing one hand on her cheek, "My lovely Alette seems no longer to be in danger. Hah~"

The sigh that escaped her lips was one of infatuation as her eyes lingered on the blue-haired girl's body from a distance.

"... A... a stingray? A poisonous fish~ A blade tucked against its tail~ It looks rather harmless, but is in fact deadly," she explained, without looking away from Alette. "I believe I have the title because of my apparent charm masking my lethality, but... haaah~ My charm is nothing compared to Alette's, is it?"

[Assistant]
Silfern Valenthorn

"Lady Radistirin?" She blinked, her concentration fading as the object of her focus became obscured by the intimidating knight.

Silfern lowered her sword at the immortal's behest, but waited for her Captain's word before sheathing her sword completely.

With the tension finally lifted, Silfern returned to her usual easy-going self as she followed after the captain, her signature slight-smile re-emerging on her face before once again disappearing as they finally saw what they were looking for.

It was a scene of brutality. Judging by their wounds and the way they were bound painted a picture of a ruthless mass-execution. Remembering the wounded messenger that prompted this expedition in the first place, Silfern knelt down near one of the corpses.

"I wonder..." She hummed to herself thoughtfully.


[System]
"My people's concerns come first. Everything else, second."

---

---

Character Summary
Aliases: N/A
Age: 24
Birthday: December 21st
Race/Species: Glacian
Gender: Male
Birthplace: Arduenia
Jewel color: Purple Dusk - Sapphire
Class/Caste: Prince
Languages: Common, Glacian
Occupation: Ambassador

---

---

Appearance
Height: 5'09"
Weight: 146lbs.
Body Type: Athletic
Eye Color: Blue-Gray
Hair Color: Platinum Blonde
Skin Tone: Pale

---

---

Psychology
Sexuality:
Bisexual - Claims asexual
Relationship Status:
Single
Personality:
Arsenio is a self-described high functioning sociopath, a well-founded assumption of himself given his distance with his own emotions. They're a foreign concept to him, and it takes a lot to get a reaction out of him beyond passing curiosity. He sees the world as a tactical map and bases every decision on it. He places his people's interests far above his own and does almost everything on their behalf. He keeps everyone at arm's length aside from his pet owl, Zedreus, who stays at home most of the time. He has a good ear for music and commonly has a violin with him.
Habits:
Arsenio tends to chew on the inside of his lips when in deep thought.
His left hand typically hovers around his sword, either resting on the crossguard or gripping the hilt.
Hobbies:
Arsenio enjoys practicing swordplay and sharpening his tongue.
He plays the violin in his free time, and is considered good at it by most standards.
Fears:
Failure - A primal fear that manages to get an emotional response from Arsenio.
Zedreus' Safety - As one of the few beings he cares about as an individual, Arsenio fears for the safety of his beloved pet.
Likes:
Logic and Reason
Swordplay
Cold Weather
Dislikes:
Hot Weather
Irrationality
The concept of luck.
Skills
General Skills
Negotiation
Etiquette
Financials
Combat Skills
Martial Arts
Swords
Daggers
Magic skills
Arsenio's magic is typically used for offensive blasts, increased movement capability, and improving his balance.

---

---

History
Background
Arsenio Michalis Graves was born on the Winter Solstice, youngest of four siblings and the only male one at that. His mother was a Healer as were his sisters, and as the sole male in the family he recieved the brunt of all their fury. However, that of his siblings never seemed to bother him at all, and that of his mother broke him down. That said, he didn't have the healthiest home life. The mother-son relationship was fear and acknowledgement, not love and support.

During his Birthright ceremony, Arsenio's father was sent away from the family, strange considering he had been allowed to stay for his daughters previously. Whatever her motivation, he left when told. Meanwhile, Arsenio himself had a significant hold on magic which was recognized during his ceremony. As such, he recieved a Purple Dusk jewel, not quite an Opal rignt off the bat but a half-step below. From here, a plan to raise the social status of the Graves family began.

The youngest Graves sibling was raised with a level of abuse that ingrained a toxic mentality in him: His life didn't matter, but others did. As such, he took every fall for his sisters and friends, quickly becoming the problem child in any sort of schooling he was granted. Quite frankly though, it didn't matter to him, as long as he was alive for the next day.

His Offering took place on his 17th birthday, during which more of his magic potential was unlocked to him. He traded out his Purple Dusk jewel for a Sapphire, a dull blue that actually matched his eyes quite well. Almost as an act of good will, his normally indifferent-at-best mother made a purchase on his behalf: the snowy owl Zedreus, a young bird that could potentially grow up to be a fierce hunter. He didn't, instead existing to bring Arsenio some level of peace.

Some years later, he was picked up by Arduenia's Court for the purpose of becoming an ambassador, something Glacia was strangely short on. He gladly accepted, not that he had much choice, and started as soon as possible. Since then, for around four years, he's travelled all over in an effort to improve Glacia's relations with the world, with varying results.

Even someone as logical as Arsenio can't garauntee success.

---

---

Additional Information
Other
Arsenio lacks almost all emotion on the surface, which he considers a boon.
He has three older sisters that regularly harass him, wherever he may be.
Theme Song:

"The Coven will benefit from a blank mind like yours..."

---

[User]
Onyx Bright

---

The markets of Hayll were honestly one of the best places to go if one was looking to buy some pretty awesome things. Onyx wove her way through the cobbled streets, a grey and white Scelt padding along at her side, easily keeping pace with her even though his stride was so short compared to hers. Glancing down at the pup, Onyx slowed down slightly so he wouldn't have to run to keep up with her- but instead of slowing down to stay with her, he just kept running, making circles around her now as they walked. Kirara's energy really was boundless.

Onyx shook her head at the Kindred as the two made their way from shop to shop. They were looking for one specific item today- a set of paints made to glimmer and shine on the paper. Eventually they'd find the right store, but for now Onyx was enjoying spending time with Kirara, wandering the winding roads through the city and looking through all the amazing, interesting things that the many shops would sell.

After a few hours, they found the store that had what they were looking for. As Onyx left the shop, a drawstring bag filled with a rainbow-and-a-half's worth of small jars of paint in her hands, the sun was high in the sky. "Well then little brother. What should we do next?"

"Food! It's food-time!" Kirara's voice rang out happily as he began to sniff the air around them, his ears perking up once he found what direction the nearest scents were coming from. "There's food this way! Follow!"

"Okay, lead on little brother." Onyx smiled brightly as the Scelt wove around the legs of those around them, finding a path for himself and Onyx now since she'd finished her task for the day. Soon they came to a tavern that didn't look too bad from the outside. Onyx was about to open the door for herself and Kirara to enter, but suddenly Kirara wasn't by her anymore. She looked around frantically for a moment, wondering where her little brother had gone, until she noticed him making his way through the crowd to where a gap had formed around one man as he walked down the street.

"Kirara!" She called after him, but he didn't turn around. She began making her way towards him and the man.

---

Kirara didn't mean to walk away from big sister, it just sort of, happened. As the two were reaching the door to the food-place, he noticed a different smell on the air. A very angry man was walking down the road, and that wasn't good. People should be happy! Like him and Onyx! He knew Onyx would want to help him, Onyx likes helping people, so Kirara was going to just tell her about the man. But, by the time the thought registered in his mind, he was halfway through the crowd already.

He heard Onyx call after him. He just kept walking now though, calling back to her a second before he made it to the man. "Follow!"

"Prince! Why are you angry? Angry is not good!" Kirara sat on the ground in front of the man-prince and cocked his head to the side as a woman appeared behind the man. She began talking to the man-prince and dragging him in a different direction than he had been walking. After a second, Kirara spoke up again. "You should come eat food with us. Food is good!"

As if on cue, Onyx appeared from the crowd behind Kirara just as he finished speaking. It took her a second to realize what was going on, and she bowed slightly to the man-prince before she spoke.

"I'm sorry if Kirara is bugging you..." She glanced over at the Scelt before saying more quietly to just him, "Were you bugging them?"

"No! I'm helping! Angry prince needs food." Kirara answered, way too loudly. "Food always helps."

[Assistant]
Mikahiel Zypheros
Dirt was lifted into the air as the galloping hooves of a horse trampled the ground at a great speed. It was then that the sight of the dark brown horse nearing the entrance to Hayll. A tattered scarf danced in the violent winds created by such rushing speed. The figure that rode atop the steed was blurred in the dark cloak that wrapped his face and body. He brought his horse to a slow gallop as he neared the entrance where people congested the path he was taking. He maneuvered past these people with the elegant steps of his horse and made his way to a unoccupied stable. There he swiftly rolled off his horse with a kicked out leg and brought its reigns to a pole and wrapped it around the pole. He patted the large head of the animal before letting it dip its head into the water for a drink. "Drink up ol boy you deserve it."He muttered before checking his hip for his blade which was safely sheathed on his side and walking off.

Mikahiel Zypheros untied the tattered black cloth from around his face and lifted the cloak off his shoulders. He placed it into his bag which sat on his horse and then lifted the bag from off the horse and carried it with some effort on his back. He made his way down the busy street and found a kind inn. Inside he rented a room and dropped his items off and locked the door for safety. He then looked at the sun as it was still bright within the sky. "I need a hot meal." He muttered to himself with a sigh and came from the halls of the inn and out the door. He moved some of his disheveled strands of hair out of his face and stood at the front of the inn trying to figure out which direction to go. Never has he been here before but it was simple. Almost too simple for his tastes.

"A decent bite is all I ask." He spoke before steadily making his way down the street to observe the shops.


[System]
Frost

"Why don't you take a chill pill?"

Vitals
Age: 29

Sex: Male

Date of birth: 22nd May, 1986

Lineage: -

Class/Major: Rogue

Class/Minor: Mage

Occupation: Detective

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Marital Status: Widower

Birthplace: New York, New York

Blood Type: B+

Eye Color: Blue

Height: 6'

Weight: 177 lbs

Hair Color/Style: Snow white, waist length hair tied into a long, thin ponytail.

General Appearance: Anthropomorphic wolf. Normally wears a thick hoodie over a shirt, a grey square cap on his head, jeans and sneakers. His hands are usually adorned with a pair of plain black fingerless gloves.

Skin Tone/Condition: Normal grey wolf fur colours.

Markings: Two sky blue arrows that start on his cheeks, pointing towards his eyes. The other ends of the arrows travels as stripes down his neck, shoulders and onto his arms, where they end as arrows again on the tops of his hands. These markings glow a pale blue.

Combat Stats

Dominant Hand: Right

Equipment:

-Upper Body: Nil

-Lower Body: Nil

Weapons
* Black Blade - A standard length katana with a wholly black blade, the sword is Daniel's power focus. He can channel his ice energy into it to make it flash freeze anything he hits, and it is also bound to him; he can summon it anywhere he chooses to.
* Eagles - Two IMI Desert Eagle pistols with engraved grips. These pistols, born from magical energy, do not run out of ammunition, instead shooting bullets of compressed magic. In turn, Daniel can channel his ice into the guns to make them shoot ice bullets that freeze their targets solid.

Abilities
* Super Speed - 0-60 in 2.6 seconds, max speed 190 mph.
* Enhanced Strength - Able to lift 1/2 ton (1,000 lbs).
* Enhanced Reflexes - fast enough to catch a humming bird in mid flight or an arrow in mid flight.
* Heightened Senses - Smell, sight, hearing, range of 50 meters (100 feet).

Magic
* Ice Elemental - Daniel, once flesh and bone, is now a being wholly made of ice. His intensive training with the element has made him so in tune with it that he has become one with the cold. As such, basic physical attacks to his body cannot harm him, as he will simply refreeze any injuries he suffers. He is also highly skilled in the use of ice magicks. Magical attacks, however, will cut past the ice that once was his flesh and injure his inner being, making him bleed in that sense.
* Mark of the Rogue - Representing the Rogue, Daniel is able to travel at speeds faster than the naked eye can follow, along with being able to easily navigate terrain, staying out of sight and being a very fast attacker. All this emphasis on speed does reduce his ability to hit harder than he's normally able to.

Bio

Voice: Deep, raspy, compelling.

Personality: Cool and collected, cunning and lethal, Daniel makes it a point to let everyone know that he means business and that if you cross him, bad things will happen to you. That being said, he treats his friends with the utmost care and concern; if you are on his good side, you are a best friend to him. Acquaintances that have likewise earned his trust and respect are people whom he will also treat very well.

Backstory: Born in New York City, Daniel Anderson took into his father's footsteps by enrolling in the NYPD and becoming an officer. With hard work and determination, he took up his late dad's desk as a detective and began a long, hard career in the service.

Near his fifth year in the office he was taken over by a powerful celestial force known as the Protectorate, and was transformed into a Protector; a powerful demigod whose sole purpose was to ensure the safety of the world. He trained with the best and made many friends around the world, demigods one and all. Together he and his Guardians went on many an adventure, with the safety of the planet often hanging in the balance.

After several decades, Earth began to decay. Society collapsed, the environment ran rampant and turned the world into a wasteland. Still he persevered, though the more years he spent on the earth, the more of his Guardians fell to the ravages of time, age and injury. It was then that he realised that the world didn't need him any more; it was dying, and soon it would be time for the demigod, now nearly a full god in terms of power, to leave for greener pastures. One of the remaining Guardians suggested that he venture into the multiverse; a plane where worlds and universes collided, an interdimensional highway, so to speak. An endless amount of possibilities lay within, and the promise of more power. So he went, leaving the ailing Earth to the care of the remaining Guardians, and entered the multiverse as a wanderer.

Now Daniel is no longer a god. He considers himself more of an elemental than anything else. His wanderings have brought him far and wide, though recognition is sparse. A run-in with a Dreamer ages ago was the closest he'd been to making a friend in the multiverse.

[User]
His opponent dropped almost instantly into a crouch, barely avoiding his first bullet and the second, well, that was a clear miss anyway whatever. In that moment of time, second by second, only sheer speed would suffice.

Metz's gun was still pointed straight at him, and his enhanced senses caught the sound of his finger depressing the trigger once more, and so he moved, way before he even had a chance to fire. He twisted to the left, taking a step back as he leaned backward and moved out of the way of that incoming bullet, still training his handgun at his opponent though its weight threw his aim off slightly. As his opponent fired and inevitably missed, so too did he fire, once this time.

He had aimed at the man's center, but the quick dodging movement threw his aim low and slightly to his right, ending with his gun pointing somewhere at Metz's left thigh or shin, bound to end up missing if his opponent moved quick enough like he already had.

As he did this, however, his right hand shot up to his second pistol and drew it too, but held it up and ready without firing. Overextension would make him lose his center of gravity and have him fall flat on his back, which he didn't want.

[Assistant]
With another shot missed Metz quickly pulled back the hammer on his pistol, really feeling the disadvantage of the more aged design of his weapon. He had fallen into a full crouch so quickly that he had to steady himself with his left hand to the floor, or so it seemed, though in actuality he was simply unleashing his magic.

The brown circle appeared on the ground and disappeared simultaneously as he immediately activated the spell, the Earth pillar bursting from the ground in a four foot diameter around him. Luckily for him the incoming bullet bounced off the hard basalt stone that his pillar had caused to rocket upwards in a six inch thick cylinder with himself in the middle. The rock stopped at a height of eight feet, curling in on itself to form a solid rock ceiling over the Mage, effectively entombing him within the structure.

Within the cylinder, Metz was able to catch his breath after the incredibly short but intense gunfight, thankful that he had the foresight to prepare the protective shell around himself in the opening stages of the fight. He had only cast the one spell, but his mana reserves were already falling and he judged he had only forty seconds of magic left in him, a sad state of affairs for any self-respecting mage. However, the beauty of his technique was that he could imbue the ground itself with his energy, locking it into a circle that could then form a pillar of element, so there was no reason for him to sit around and lose his mana needlessly.

His mind began to calculate the Arena, visualising the platforms on which the combatants were forces to remain. It was perfect for him, and all he needed to use his abilities was a vague image of where the place he wanted to imbue with a circle was, he had much better than that.

The initiative was with him now, his opponent might have options available to him, but attacking him within his stony fortress would be difficult, while Metz was more than capable of making life hell for him outside.

His eyes shifted, and his hands began to weave in a calculated fashion the pillar of flame.

[User]
"Huh."

Puzzled, he stood straight again, stowing the gun in his right hand as his opponent encased himself in a stone cylinder. Strange, but it gave him pause for thought.

The arena itself was weirdly made, like, platforms that weren't connected? Really? Plus these things were huge!

The statues around the arena were nice and all, but he saw little point in them. And since his opponent was busy doing whatever the hell he was doing inside that cylinder, he had little else to do.

"Hmm."

As he didn't know what his opponent was doing, exactly, Daniel decided to make him a little nervous in his stone shell. With a running leap and a burst of strength and speed, he cleared the gap between the platforms easily enough, landing hard enough to at least be audible; the whole chamber was deathly silent, after all. As he did this, he charged his ice magics, gathering them within his body and dispersing them through his feet and into the platform they now shared. The ground underneath the mage's feet would get strikingly cold extremely quickly, and the cold would carry up along the stone that he was encased in, slowly frosting over all around him, inside and out. The frost was blistering cold in itself; just by being encased within the stone capsule, he was now in a freezer.

As Daniel did this, he slowly walked around the cylinder, unsure of what to do next, but with his handgun pointed at the chamber at all times. If the man were to undo his barrier, he could shoot as soon as he saw body or whatever else came first.

[Assistant]
As Daniel dawdled, wasting precious time outside his cylinder, Metz weaved an intricate fire spell. His plan was ultimately simple, if he created a shell of stone around himself his opponent would be forced to come close and investigate, and then Metz could see how tough he really was. With each passing second he could increase the radius of his pillar of fire, so that in just ten seconds it covered twenty feet, which was incidentally how long it took his foe to come up with a strategy for defeating his stone shell. He was impressed when he felt the first inkling of cold transfer itself through the stone walls of his cylinder, though the thickness of the stone provided him ample protection at first, it would soon betray him as it transferred the cold. However, to say that he would freeze to death in a matter of seconds would be a vast overstatement of the effects of cold on Metz, boosted by mana to become three times the man he should be, his body was capable of regulating itself to such an advanced degree he was hardly bothered at all.

The only problem was, with each passing second he weaved, and grew cold, his mana was burning low. Still, he only needed an additional five seconds, and his foe gave him just that as he slowly approached the pillar, just barely audible outside to Metz' increased capabilities when under the effect of mana.

"Let's see if you burn."

The red circle manifested itself around the very edge of his platform, glowing an iridescent colour as fire suddenly billowed upwards, moving exceedingly quickly as it had a solid sixty feet height to reach in under a second. The fire erupted from every space of open ground around the rock cylinder, and billowed up and over the roof leaving no spot of safety for anyone trapped on the platform as the pillar erupted in flame at 1500 degrees Celsius. If his opponent had time to freeze the stone pillar solid before the heat erupted he might have been in trouble, but for the three seconds the fire burned with its incredible intensity the rock held and Metz was safe. However, as the last lick of flame spouted from the great pillar he felt empty and dropped to one knee, his mana spent.