[System]
Sex:  Female

 Age:  17

 Experiment Tier:  Test Subject

 Enhanced Trait 1:
Enhanced Vision:
Josyln's enhanced Vision allows her to see with almost startling clarity, making it possible for her to pick up on the smallest of details when she is out in the field or simply trying her hardest to blend in and collect intel. Along with her ability to see clearer than the average human, she is also able to see things further away without the aid of a scope, giving her the ability to be an amazing sniper, though she does not classify as the best as she knows there is always someone out there better than herself. While she can see well enough in the dark, if the area is completely devoid of any form of light (i.e moonlight) she is unable to see just like any average human.

 Enhanced Trait 1:
Downside: Light Sensitivity
While Joslyn enjoys the perks of being able to see far and in complete clarity, this enhancement caused her to develop an acute sensitivity to light. Due to this, she must always wear sunglasses until nightfall and, unless the room is dim enough, while under artificial lighting. Part of her counts this as a blessing in disguise as it offers her a way to hide her eyes from those who are looking for her, as they are the most notable feature that she maintains. Should she be subjected to bright light (i.e a flash bang) without the proper eye protection, her sight is rendered useless until such a time that her retina's are able to adjust and right themselves.

 Enhanced Trait 2:
Heightened Reflexes
 While she is unable to dodge bullets, Joslyn's reflexes have been enhanced in order to allow her reaction time to be far greater than the average human. The messages that travel from her brain to her limbs take far less time to communicate the need to do something, allowing her to react faster and take less time to process situations as they occur. Her heightened reflexes also increase her rate of fire depending on the firearm she is using at the time and aid her well in hand to hand (or overall close range) combat.

 Enhanced Trait 2:
Downside: Twitchy
Due to her uncanny habit of twitching, whether it is when someone touches her or when she is forced into a fast reaction time too many times in a row, Joslyn attempts not to rely on this ability too much. While engaged in close combat, should she take a particularly hard hit (or a harmful hit in general) her body's reflex is typically over exaggerated and could potentially cause more harm than good to herself.

 Faction:  Poltava

 Appearance:

 Height: 5'7
 Weight: 145 lbs
 Distinct Feature(s): HeteroChromia (LE Green / RE teal)

 Clothing:  See second picture for shirt style, typically wearing black jeans or slacks and a pair of black sneakers. Due to her light sensitivity, Joslyn also wears a pair of sunglasses that she rarely takes off.

 Personality:
Joslyn prefers to keep to herself when she can, though she is not shy by any means but seems far from approachable due to the fact that she always looks rather mad, even when she is not. Usually very straight forward and blunt, she hates to sugar coat things and is usually the person to go to if you want the hard truth about something. Once one gets past the bluntness and permanent 'I will kill you' look, she is overall a fun person to be around who enjoys a good joke just as much as the next person.

 Weapons:  SR-25 (Semi-automatic special application sniper rifle 7.62x51mm), PMR-30 (.22 magnum), and a few well placed throwing knives.

 Equipment:
Emergency Kit Containing:
* Lighter
* Compass
* Camelbak
* Disposable Cell Phone
* Emergency Tinder
* Magnesium Starter
* Emergency Rations
* First-Aid Kit (small)
* Canteen
* Aqua Iodine Tablets
* S&W SWAT Knife
* Mini LED Flashlight
* GERBER

 Bio:
 Taken at a young age, Joslyn does not have much of a childhood to remember as she spent most of her years in a facility being put through an array of tests. While she remembers nothing that happened between the ages of 8 and 16, she can remember what few years of clarity she had with her Mother and Father. Both of her parents always seemed to be happy and madly in love with one another, a feeling they also shared with their daughter who never went without. She always went to parks to play with the other local children, a place she assumed she was taken from as she could not remember anything leading up to the week that shew as taken. Despite many attempts to try and recollect the eight years of memories she did not have, she had nothing to show for it as every attempt resulted in a failure.

 When she had managed to escape the facility with the Three Kings, Joslyn had attempted to find her family, wanting to go back to them, to let them know that she was ok despite her genetic modifications. When she got to the outside of the house she remembered living in eight years ago, she found it in the state that she had left it, immaculate and well taken care of. However, when she peered inside, she saw only a shadow of the man her father was sitting in front of the television with beer bottles all around him and a young boy pleading for his attention.

 Not being able to take the sight before her, she left without so much as knocking on the door and found her way into the Poltava faction. While she could fight if need be, she preferred doing things from afar, or simply not at all as she isn't much of a violent person unless the situation calls for it. While she finds no pleasure in what was done to her, she could not bring herself to join the faction that actively attacked the government, despite the fact that she blames them for everything that she saw through that window.

 At present she volunteers as a sniper when one is needed, doing her part in an attempt to earn her keep with those she decided to join. While she has no issues with remaining in the shadows, even she is aware that there are times when violence is a necessity and when the government is after you, sometimes that necessity happens a lot.

[User]
It was...a peaceful afternoon. Birds weren't unnecessarily chirping about, no patrols came through here unless they had a reason to, and the local groundskeeper barely knew what was happening. Peaceful, until she heard a series of loud bangs, and yelling. Jesus, why. Who was doing that at this place.

"Hey! Shut up and fuck off!" She yelled.

Joy's voice was a bit deep for a girl her age, but she made her best effort despite being dead tired to make herself more likely to be mistaken for a man. It was one of the many things she practiced daily to come off more male-like, which was needed in this world. She had to be up on the new kind of deception warfare she was engaging in to hide her identity, or else she'd have a worse time trying to survive.

[Assistant]
Adrian was out "appraising" some battle-scarred properties he could flip for a profit when he stubled upon a burnt-out apartment-complex that could use a bit of shoring-up structurally and some re-wiring to bring it up to code. The place was naturally in a pretty nasty corner of the neighborhood, but there was always something about that seemed to attract tenants to this place.

Flashlight in hand, he waded through the charred remnants until about the second floor where the fire seemed to have mysteriously stopped, leaving only smoke-damaged furniture and soot... aside from being pretty sure there were chunks of floor that would need to be completely replaced, the second floor looked fine enough to start renting-out immediately.

>"Nothing like getting shot at by someone you are trying to help,"

Or so he thought, a bit prematurely as he heard a woman's voice from one of the rooms. Shutting off his torch, he crept upon this unwary spectre, and upon seeing a... dark... lump on a bed, he immediately flicked his torch back on upon it, as though the light would banish it away like a giant cockroach.

It was around then it dawned upon him that perhaps this person was armed, or on drugs, or homicidally-insane...

The moment the light hit the bed, a small groan could be heard, followed by a shout as the figure scrambled out of the bed with an arm over her eyes. "What the fuck?! Turn that damn thing off!" shouted a female, the light of his torch showing a woman in a pair of black slacks and a black long sleeve shirt, "What the hell are you doing in my home?"

With her arm still over her eyes, the young girl reached out for the .22 she usually kept close by and haphazardly pointed it at the intruder. As the light of the torch had ran over her face, she found that she was currently unable to see, the burning within her eyes causing them to tear up as she cocked the hammer back on her handgun. At some point during the night she had set aside her book and retreated to the bedroom to try to get some rest, which only seemed to have lasted a short while.

The moment he saw the gun, his first thoughts were 'hypocritical, much?' as he tried to dodge the figure's blind aiming skills, only to realize she was following the light, which he flicked-off to leave everyone equally in complete baffling darkness.

"Wait, your home?" He queried in the quietness that followed, mostly to re-assure that they were both still there and not imagining the entire encounter. After pausing, he realized that he failed to answer her question, and she asked first; "I was just having a look around. Figured I could salvage the place for a profit. Of course, then you'd have to pay for utilities, but that also means you'd have warm running water and heat this winter." It was possible to see that his brain was already thinking of how to turn a long-term profit out of this. He felt no shame in taking advantage of this obviously hung-over junkie. Still, it was a junkie with a gun and a strong sense of privacy.

"People already know I'm appraising this place, if I don't return with a recommendation to fix this place up, it'll be demolished soon. Mind if I turn my light back on and have a look around?"


[System]
Age: 16

Gender: Female

Themesong: The Valedictory Elegy / Hedgehog's Dilemma / Cold Rain
Class: Bladeknight

Appearance: Hazel is a youthful girl with soft white skin. She has long straight red hair that reaches down to the small of her back. She has a small frame, and stands at a rather average height of 5'3. Hazel has a heart-shaped face adorned with deep green eyes. Hazel is graceful,and is deceptively strong despite her petite appearance. She is sure of step and has an almost commanding gait, oft earning the attention of others in the room, appearing as if she is the definition of 'confidence', whether or not this is true.

History: Hazel never really knew her parents, and has never experienced a conventional domestic lifestyle. At a very young age Hazel found herself abandoned into the foster care system, her birth parents unable and unwilling to support the child they refused to get rid of. Hazel bounced around foster homes, but never had good experiences in any of them. She lacked any sort of parental guidance, never able to call any of her foster parents 'mom' or 'dad'. As expected from one raised in such a difficult environment Hazel became a 'problem child'. The apathy of her foster parents turned to resentment, and Hazel's difficult home life turned worse as they began to hate her. Hazel, despite being a seemingly normal girl, had trouble making friends at her school, and she became aggressively anti-social during this time. People began to shut her out, and she found herself without any sense of self-worth, believing herself to be useless. As time progressed this shot sense of self-worth morphed into a very aggressive ego, forcibly asserting herself as 'better' then those around her to compensate. AS she made the transition from Middle to High School it was revealed to her that her current foster parents decided to get rid of her, enrolling her in AcadeMMO.

As she made the transition into AcadeMMO she thrived. She took quickly to her lessons, and naturally picked up the art of swordplay. Some would call her a prodigy, and this only served to feed into her growing ego. Other people began to take an interest in her, and suddenly she found herself near the top of the social food chain of AcadeMMO, her skills attracting friends. As people flocked around her she put on the mask of someone she wasn't, and slowly began to mimic the way her friends acted, becoming a regular kid. A regular kid with a massive ego masking a crushingly low sense of self esteem, but a regular kid nonetheless. Despite all the people around her Hazel still feels alone.

Statistics:
 When it comes to fighting, Hazel holds a simple philosophy: The best defense is a strong offense

 - Level - 2
 - HP - 70 (7)
 - MP - 30 (3)
 - Attack - 35
 - Magic - 10
 - Speed - 22
 - Accuracy - 15
 - Defense - 5
 - Evasion - 5
 - Resistance - 5

Spells/Skills:

True Strike: Finishing Move [2]- This move is Hazel's self-perfected finisher. The move is designed to finish a weakened enemy, and is only usable if the enemy *is* weakened. She targets the weakened enemy, and her blade pulses with magic energy. The attack will finish off simple creatures and other weak enemies, and will merely launch an blow with an additional 15 attack at stronger enemies. At higher levels the move can kill stronger creatures. Consumes 20 MP. Command: "Let's end this!"

Hemorrage [1]- Hazel allows the magic inside her to guide her blade, and finds an artery. The skills adds an extra 5 Attack to her blow, and causes the enemy to begin bleeding. If the enemy does not have blood the skill does not work, for obvious reasons. Consumes 10 MP. Command: "Bleed!"

[User]
"I'm glad to hear that." Hayato smiled a little, though his eyes didn't change. He watched as she drew the long sword from the supply, studying how she held it.

"Alright Hayato, prepare yourself." She took initiative and charged, nearly meeting Hayato within seconds. She rose her sword with both hands and opened with a simple swipe, downwards and to the left diagonally, already posing for her next attack. She was faster, and with her aim and power he wasn't able to avoid. He turned his shoulder, crossing his sword over it. The edges of the two wooden weapons collided with a loud crack. The impact sent Hayato flying backwards, barely able to regain his feet without being bowled head over heels. His eyes were wide in surprise and his shoulder throbbed painfully; no doubt he'd have a bruise soon. She really was strong! He grimaced; he hadn't been expecting a girl her size to have such strength.

But she had raised her blade up high with both hands before attacking, and had followed through that strike with the movement of her body, both of which left big openings. Her defenses were much weaker than her offense, he just had to increase his speed to take advantage of that!

To avoid her followup he jumped to the side, but as soon as he landed he held his sword near his hip as if he were drawing it from the sheath. Suddenly its edge sparked with a colored light, black with a hint of blue, and the same energy crackled at Hayato's heels.

"Blade Trail!" He shot forward at high speed, as fast as Hazel had before, and his sword lashed out horizontally at her ribs.

---

[Assistant]
"自慢."

Grunted a student near one of the windows on the second story, he gazed out at the aircraft taking into the air and away - shaking his head as it did so. His eyes kept their gaze on the showoff who walked out of it.

Ryouta Himonaga placed one hand on his cheek, resting his head against the ledge, the wind gently swept his autumn brown hair as he did so. He had skipped the newcomer's welcome speech. Not that he found it boring or was being purposely delinquent, it just did not make any sense since he was not exactly a newcomer anymore. He and his village had moved to AcadeMMO a year ago when their town was ruined, most of them anyway, and it was much more informal than this. Trying to be responsible He still greeted and helped any new lost souls he met, the premises were much larger than what most of them were used to living in, that much he could tell - and with the whole semester beginning, some were bound to loose their way and stumble about.

But no such encounters today.

When the new student walked out of his sight, he lost that moment of interest.

Taking a deep breath, he turned around and watched the incoming horde of unfaRmiliar faces. While he did not know who they were individually, he could tell them apart by the uniforms they wore. Everyone had or eventually will have a unique way to dress eventually, even if they were the same class there will always be differences in the way they fight - and your uniform will show it, no matter how subtle. The most obvious were of course the ones between Magicians and Martialists, He himself wore a Magi's outfit complete with hood and long sleeves. Two symbols sewn in cloth wrapped around his right arm like a crest of sorts, representing class and speciality. There was in the higher band, an octogon with a cross embedded in it's center. The other, a heptacle that was surrounded in mythic symbols. He was a handsome looking individual with rather refIned features, asian in appearance but with dyed hair and a slightly pale skin. Though his wardrobe made him look slimmer, he was not too lanky and managed to keep his posture straight. A noble looking weapon sat at waist level in a highly decorated cover, it seemed like a sword of oriental origins and had an aura of elegance to it.

His eyes wandered fRom face to face, greeting them with a wry smile as they approached, but honestly, it started to feel awkward very quickly. His attention was distracted a neon red glow shortly, to his relief - someone had already begun practicing in the sparring rooms! Taking leave of the window sill, Ryouta briskly and gladly made his way to the arena. Something interesting was about to happen, he could sense it.

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

_**Beep!**_

Was the sound of the glass door as it opened for a new student.

He sauntered to the spectator's seats and found a nice central area where he could see the whole match. There were two students, martialists, they seemed like they were mid-match. He grabbed a packet of rice crackers which he had hidden in his sleeves and began snacking on them as he watched.

_Munch, munch ..._

[User]
Hazel smirked as the wooden sword made contact. She could tell he didn't expect the strength of the blow. However, as she began to follow through on her next attack, Hayato's voice boomed. "Blade Trail!" *Damn! Insolent bastard!* She moved to block the blow, but she didn't move fast enough to stop the Katana. She wheeled around quick enough to disrupt the blade, but didn't stop the attack, and it glanced her side. She started to tumble to the ground, but stopped herself, balancing on one hand. Her side throbbed. She already had her next attack in her head, and decided on a number of ways to follow up. She pushed off the ground and sprung straight up, "Bleed!" She shouted. A red shimmer coated her blade as she raised it over her and brought it crashing down towards Hayato's neck.

Typically using a skill like Hemorrhage was frowned upon in live weapons practice, since, after all, having a student bleed out didn't help anyone, but Hazel knew a wooden sword wouldn't apply the bleed effect of Hemorrhage, her attack would just hit harder.

[Assistant]
Hayato tried to press the advantage when she stumbled, but his Skill ran out too quickly. Again she attacked; the openings she left with these wide swings weren't as helpful as they could be, because her speed and strength was so great. A true example of sheer power. Hayato managed to get his sword up, one hand on the hilt and the other along the blade, using both arms to push back as Hazel's sword came down on the middle of his weapon. Still she easily overpowered him, and his wooden sword actually cracked; the Skill she'd used had put even more wallop into that one!

He was knocked to the ground and rolled, feeling the hard impact with the floor nearly knock the wind out of him.

_Is this the power of someone who's been doing Special Assignments? Or...am I just that weak?_

He managed to get up, even though his shoulder was aching now and he was breathing hard. He couldn't give up yet! He charged Hazel head on this time, bringing down his blade. Unlike her his strike was direct, no raising of the arms, just using the bottom hand to pull the handle of the blade while the top hand pushed forward, using leverage and only relying on the strength of the bicep and below. Even with the difference in strength, maybe if he added more power...

"Flash Blade!" Again his sword ignited with black and blue energy, even though sweat broke out along his forehead. Not much MP left...

---

[User]
Ryouta winced and bit down harder on his crackers as he watched the girl go for the boy's neck, he shirked backwards as he imagined the result.

"**Crazy woman.**" He commented in perfect english. Surely there was some law against this.

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

Ryouta let out a relieved puff of air when he saw the boy blocking it, there was a loud crack of wood being splintered that echoed the halls. He was thrown to the ground by the impact though.

But the boy managed to get up, more eager now it seems, to get back at his opponent.

Ryouta slowly resumed his snacking but he shifted closer to the command console that was near the doorway. There was an intercom anyone could use in case of emergencies.

[Assistant]
Hazel laughed as her blow connected. Hayato went down, and she took the opportunity to call out to him. "This is fun Hayato! We'll have to do this again. Maybe I'll make a swordsman of you!" She grinned as he went in for another blow. She could tell now that she had him on the ropes. After his next attack she'll go for the finisher. He charged at her again, this time going for a much more direct attack. She realized they were being watched, and she decided to make a show of it. She braced herself for Hayato's attack and met his sword charge. She held her blade upside down and attempted to swerve the path of his blade away from her. Her efforts were mostly successful, taking a glancing blow to her side. As the blade swerved past she spun around Hayato and found herself at his back.

Her sense of showmanship was impeccable, and she knew that a 'final blow' was a real crowd pleaser. Hayato was on the ropes, and she thought she could pull it off. She raised her sword with excessive showmanship, once again opting for a large sweeping blow. "Let's finish this!" She called out, voice booming. Her sword glowed a brilliant blue, and she brought it down on Hayato. The move was a kill move, she knew, but she was very careful not to go for a spot that would kill him. She angled her blade past his head, intending it to come down on his sword arm. She would cause no permanent damage. Hopefully.

OOC Note: I described Hazel's final blow in my skills as a move that will kill small weakened creatures, but against Hayato it will probably just make his arm hurt like hell.


[System]
"I'm still alive, and I can still fight. Shouldn't that be all that matters, at this point?"
-PILOT-
(obviously not as naked as this)
Age: 15

Personality: Lora is unique for having a sort of deadpan confidence, seeming be reserved on the outside but in reality being very empowered and sure of her capability. Of course, she's not headstrong, either, and in fact proves to be rather patient. Off the field, she performs small efforts and tasks in hopes to play a little more than her part. The most emotion she can be noted showing is largely in combat, as if she has some deep-seated feelings regarding the Cruxi (and boy, does she).

Motives: Repel the Cruxi and ensure a better future.

Background:
People who say Lora went through hell don't realize that good people shouldn't go to hell.

The young Lora grew on a colony somewhat on the farther reaches of human society. Her family was one of the most esteemed on that world, and not because they had luxury. No, it was because they shared their luxury, working to create and distributor new technologies to benefit the people and ensure what happened to Earth would not so easily repeat itself. Lora was exposed to this and more, and so learned the better qualities of life and what they meant.

To say it all changed when the Cruxi appeared seemed cliche and inaccurate. Within 24 hours, it all disappeared - homes, families and lives alike. A still-young Lora and her younger brother were one of the few that managed to make it, of the single escape ship that managed to survive the ordeal. She wished she could stop crying, that after she cried all her tears, her voice went hoarse, and her heart ached the worst, it would stop. But the pain never stopped.

Lora practically begged to be enlisted in the project to weaponize Framewerks. She wanted so many things, but the only ones she could hope to get were revenge, and hope itself. She would gladly learn to take life if it meant no more had to suffer like she did. She would become stronger, far stronger than she was on that day of defeat, as strong as she needed to be to take down the enemy. And even if she died doing it, Lora was going to bring peace and happiness back to every last human who deserved it.

Notable Deaths: Pretty much anyone she was related to by blood, except her brother. A couple of her close friends also didn't make it.

Other Things: People think that Lora doesn't show her emotions because she is very scarred inside. While they are partly right, she also represses her emotion to ensure she can remain stable during Framewerk combat. It works for the most part, but there are times where she can get a little loose.

-FRAMEWERK-
Code Name: Caliburn

Primary Weapons System:
 The right arm is equipped with an X-02 Lightstriker, a particle cannon with a trio of edged prongs circling the barrel. The weapon accelerates a payload of Tau particles while charging up to one million volts of energy along the prongs, before the whole blast is released in a high-impact bolt.
 The Lightstriker has a great yield with adept stopping power, but is slow to fire and has difficulty piercing through armor. When you're given the ample time to charge the cannon to full capacity, however, that shot is guaranteed to put at least a smoldering crater in most any physical armor imaginable.
 In the event of a close-range hazard, the weapon's prongs are reinforced to act as an emergency melee weapon. Prolonged use is ill-advised, as damage may dramatically hamper the Lightstriker's stability and risk further damage if fired.

Secondary Weapons Systems:
 Equipped on each shoulder blade is a paired GAU-19 heavy rotary cannon and a TOR-VN railgun system. In the event a pilot wants a quicker, more traditional method of dishing out damage, they will switch primary weapons control to this weapons array. It is then armed by flipping them over onto a set of shoulder mounts, a relatively brief process provided there is ample room for it.
 The chainguns and railguns are fired in their respective pairs, the former more rapid and culling while the latter heavier and more accurate; however, both take a bit of time to wind up before they can effectively fire, however less so than the Lightstriker. For safety reasons, the Lightstriker is powered down (even though at that time it cannot be directly controlled anyway) and the upper range of movement for the arms is locked down.

 Also equipped is a pair of infantry-grade missile launchers on the collarbone in front of the shoulder, and a reinforced shield unit on the left arm. Both are designed to be used independently of the major weapons systems - the shield unit especially is designed to withstand most heavier blows, while reinforcing the right arm enough to enable a fair medium of punching and bashing.

Frame Armor Type: Medium-Heavy ; designed to be a powerful weapons platform with a minor in tanking.
Solid Synchro Rate: 100% [MAX!!!]
Special Ability: -CLASSIFIED-

[User]
"Oui, Merci. So, What say we four team for the now and we can ro-sham-bo for the winner? Just to irk the commanders. I think Diver would tell us what we are going to choose before us."

Krista watched as the Komodo fell out of the Rose's grasp and land on the ground below.

 "Ouch. I hope he's alright," she thought.

The Rose coasted over to the Archer before settling between the Archer and the other Werks. Romeo's voice came over the communications channels.
"Anyone not wanting to fight, ten second immunity. Anyone who wants to fight, we count down to one together."

Krista could tell that it was directed at the group. She opened a line to Romeo.  "I don't think Command is going to let the battle be decided by rock-paper-scissors, but I do appreciate the reprieve. I want to head over to Zone E, but I want to know what you are thinking."

Romeo smiled as he could still control his facial muscled while till paralyzed from the neck down in his pod. He had gotten the opportunity for vengeance early in and felt better for it. Now he could keep archer safe without distraction and who would it be to open a private link now than her at that moment.

 "I don't think Command is going to let the battle be decided by rock-paper-scissors, but I do appreciate the reprieve. I want to head over to Zone E, but I want to know what you are thinking."

I think that as long as we keep together, we can take on the universe. I would prefer the plains as we have clear field of vision in all directions. But. If YOU want to go to E, then WE go to E.

Krista an affirmative noise. "Alright then, I'll leave first. Cover me please."  She had the Archer head away from the group while keeping the Archer's main gun pointed in their general direction. Activating the Archer's thrusters, Krista flies into Zone G and lands at the base of the massive piliar. She turns the Archer around and places it to her back. "Romeo, I am waiting for you in Zone G. I'll try to cover you while you get over here."

[Assistant] Ryan curses as the glue mine goes off, taking away his number one skill: mobility. He sends a few louder choice words over the radio as Koehler picks him up then drops him. Then, a barrage of missiles, from the Caliburn, bombards Macabre. Red lights are flashing every where, Ryan quickly checks his diagnostics. All systems are still functioning however the Frame's hull is damaged... Pretty badly. So Ryan and Macabre are wounded, stuck, and pissed off. Macabre sends Visceral in an upward motion, hoping to disable Caliburn's other arm. Then all of the Frame's boosters ignite, attempting to free itself from the glue.

[User]
"Uhh, I'll try," Elora responded to Koehler's order as Diver flew closer to Macabre. "But I think you should forfeit, you don't sound-" She then backed away by instinct when Caliburn opened fire on on the other stuck Framewerk. She could have taken that attack in place of Ryan, but her meek nature took over her. The two were now about to free themselves from the trap, so Elora had to act fast if she wanted to save him. There wasn't much time for him left; his Framewerk wasn't supposed to take any damage, and it was a miracle Macabre was even functional at this point. She heard the announcement, but ignored it, too swept up in the moment to realize that could have had been something for her to consider.

She thrust around to Caliburn's backside, and activated her drones' scanning routine again. She typed on the keyboard like a maniac; her fingers nailed lines of code on the program while her eyes darted back and forth on the screen. She came up with the idea of bypassing repetitive data already collected when the Black Komodo's data was processed and repurposing the scanning to only take data unique to the Caliburn model.

She collected the data in a new record time, and as she was transmitting this data to Ryan and Koehler she was already executing offensive mode on her drones: the moment they finished scanning, the disc-like objects extended laser turrets from their insides and began firing on Caliburn. They were mildly effective, comparable to mosquito bites on a human, but they came in a mass swarm of shots, and thus sure to distract even the most focused of pilots. Then Elora raised up Diver's ABR and revved it up just as the Caliburn freed itself from the glue. The Framewerk aimed it at one of the three weak points she discovered on the mighty giant, which was a joint between the Caliburn's chassis and the thruster systems. Elora bit her tongue, and opened fire.

[Assistant]
Koehler, still feeling really goddamn strange, went over his options. Thinking, he really, really should forfeit... "Fff... What the hell is wrong with me?!". It's almost like his damn psyche was slowly killing itself behind his back. Is something wrong with the neural systems of his werk? "Goddamnit command! I KNOW YOU'RE LISTENING! What the hell is this? Is this a joke? Give me a reading damnit, what the hell is wrong with my Werk? Is something wrong with me?". Hnng... It was getting painful to think. No matter, he's had worse trips. "Give me something command, while you get your HEADS OUT OF YOUR ASSES, I'll be trying to continue anyway!...Fuck..."

Koehler flew off, not even saying goodbye to Elora, and went for the Tower. Hopefully, at the top, he could get his bearings. ...Well, and if someone was already there, he'll have to just punch their shit repeatedly. ...What if he just made the tower fall over? That'd be hilarious! A nice big thump could get his mind out of the gutter it was in. Maybe. He paid no heed to anything else, still sort of in his confused, half-broken state.

...Wait, what the fuck was he doing? He said he'd help Elora, he should help Elora! Right? Oh wow, he really had no idea what he was doing! Fuck, he really should just forfeit. "...Hah...heheheheheh! Goddamn Elora, you really are smart aren't you? I should forfeit, I can't continue! I forfeit! I forfeit! Heh... I forfeit..." His Werk simply stopped its' engines and glided, falling face-first into the base of the tower, the pain being relayed to Koehlers' own head.

Koehler then turned his Framewerk until it faced skyward, sitting, resting its' back on the Tower. He watched as Elora and the others did battle. He told himself what he thought of the situation, "...God damn Harold you really are that pathetic...", then burst into a short, quiet fit of laughter. With slowly regaining composure, he wondered "What's wrong with me?"


[System]
Age: Unknown, presumably somewhere in the 40's-50's range.

Gender: Male

Appearance: See above
Back View
Not Shown: His hair being slightly grayed due to age.

World of Origin: Street Fighter, around Street Fighter 3 in terms of Timeline.

Personality: Behold, the wiki!

History: It's basically just a long list of fights.

Abilities:

Ansatsuken/Assassination Fist: The 'pure' form of the martial art taught by the late Goutetsu, Akuma's prowess in this style makes him a terror to face in battle. While the techniques he utilizes are many and varied, a list of the more noteworthy ones will be provided.
* Gohadoken/Great Surge Fist: Akuma channels the Satsui no Hado and his own spirit in equal measure, causing an orb of physical force to erupt forth from his hands. In addition to the 'standard' version, Akuma can perform a number of variants:

	+ Zanku Hadoken/Slashing Air Surge Fist: Fired from an angle in mid-air, otherwise identical to the Gohadoken.
	+ Shakunetsu Hadoken/Scorching Heat Surge Fist: Imbued with thermal energy, causing any target struck by it to catch fire.
	+ Both the Gohadoken and Zanku Hadoken possess amplified versions known as the Messatsu Gou Hadou/Annihilating Great Surge and Tenma Gou Zankuu/Sky Demon Great Slashing Void, respectively. They're just bigger and killier versions of the originals.
* Goshoryuken/Great Rising Dragon Fist: A jumping uppercut to the chest, capable of launching an opponent into the air. The amplified Messatsu-Goshoryu/Annihilating Great Rising Dragon is instead 3 consecutive uppercuts.
* Tatsumaki Zankukyaku/Tornado Slashing Air Leg: A tornado-like spin kick that somehow allows the user to achieve horizontal movement. When empowered into Messatsu Gou Rasen/Annihilating Great Spiral, it carries both the user and the target into the air. Akuma has strong leg muscles, it seems.
* Kongou Kokuretsuzan/Vajra Province Rending Slash: Akuma charges his fist with energy before slamming it into the ground, followed by a lightning bolt striking the ground, and finally an explosion of energy. At full strength, it is capable of tearing small islands asunder. However, use of its full strength is taxing, and Akuma prefers to use a weaker version. This usually limits it to destroying small houses or equivalent structures.
* Ashura Senku/Fighting Demon Flashing Air: A short-ranged teleport of sorts, Akuma renders himself intangible before sliding forwards or backwards, allowing him to phase through solid objects and people. He is still visible and technically 'there' while doing so, allowing anyone capable of striking normally intangible objects to hit him.
* Raging Demon/Shun Goku Satsu/Flash Prison Murder: The ultimate killing technique, allowing Akuma to strike an opponent's very soul. It consists of him using Ashura Senku to slide towards the opponent, grab them, and perform a series of strikes. However, there are limitations. The technique is rather slow to initiate, allowing fast targets to flee or avoid the attack. In addition, it requires that the target possess a soul to work. Zombies, automatons, and other non-living entities will survive, although the strikes will still cause damage. Even if one does possess a soul, there is a counter-measure. By emptying one's self of emotion and thought, a target can survive the technique.

Note: Beings with exceptionally strong souls can survive the Raging Demon, though not without injury.

Satsui no Hado/Surge of Murderous Intent: The source of Akuma's inhuman power, born from mankind's natural violent instinct. By harnessing this, Akuma 'transcends his humanity,' granting him superhuman physical attributes, and the ability to perform the Raging Demon (among other techniques). Side-effects such as mental alterations are mostly noted in the Personality section.

Other:

[User]
From deep within the peaceful rest of sleep Mithias became aware of a soft feminine voice speaking to him. All was blessed blackness, soothing unconsciousness, yet it was smartly interrupted by a relentless call. Incessant, it would not let him dwell in dreams any longer.

Golden eyes cracked open to a blinding light. The brightly lit room was harsh on a vampire, yet not damaging. Mithias brought up a hand to shade himself as he mentally scrambled to remember where he was and what was going on. Was it day? Why was the last thing he remembered being at his father's home in Hawaii? Had he been hit in the head?

Realizing he wasn't under attack, at least not any longer, Mithias sat up and beheld the women in the white habit. If this was a church, it wasn't causing him any harm to be there. Odd... Mithias awoke in complete confusion, yet his nature was to be passive. Tall, lean, yet muscular, he looked like a beast with terrifying intelligence. Long soft hair fell over his shoulders and a clawed hand gripped the edge of the stone slab he had been resting on. Mithias realized with some relief that his weapons were still on him.

"I profusely apologize for bringing you here," she stated... The Lady Lydia went on with her explanation quickly, a edge of rush in her words that she was probably unaware of.

Mithias followed her explanation with ease, although he didn't yet buy any of it. As she spoke, he looked around, verifying how 'real' everything seemed, trying to remember where he had been only moments ago and actively denying the illusion that seemed to be all around him now. However denial wasn't making any of it disappear.

He stood up, black jacket falling in place to hide all but the tips of twin blades at his sides, and he looked at the woman. Whether or not any of this was true, or if his mind had been hijacked by his sire, or even if he was dead, he'd have to find out later. For now, he would go along with it. Immortals generally had time to be patient. Then he asked her, "Why did you pick me?"

[Assistant]
Resident shithole.

Mithias the vampire stood silently. The woman didn't answer. No one else was there, yet their scents lingered. He knew this room had been filled with life not so long ago, at least it seemed so. Now they were gone. His black brow furrowed ever so slightly in frustration at the lack of answers. Was he really needed for some universe-saving mission? ...hardly. Three portals stood open like gaping mouths.

Finally convinced there was no other exit, Mithias chose at random the zombie apocalypse. As he walked through, his boots found pavement. A pleasant afternoon light greeted him as did the contrasting odor of smoke and decaying garbage. His yellow-gold eyes found the corpse of civilization before him, buildings abandoned, vehicles left askew in the streets, and not a soul nearby to make a sound.

It was depressing really, a vision he had hoped to never witness in his own world, the bitter end of humanity. Wind blew some trash around, and Mithias began walking. Inspection of graffiti warnings and billboards gave alarming information. Mithias swallowed, fear creeping up even the back of his neck. Was every single human on earth dead? Was this all a metaphor for some spiritual lesson he had not learned in life? He trudged on, thankfully unaffected by the need for things like sleep and water.

Some time later, a movement in the distance caught the vampire's keen eye. It was a human, no... it was a zombie. A pale-skinned woman wandered with whitened eyes in front of a rundown Walmart building. A sign for ammunition still hung in the window. Mithias focused on the zombie woman as he approached curiously. Instinctively, he avoided making any sound with his supernatural grace and came right up to her. She didn't appear to see him, didn't react. Baring his fangs he sniffed and sneered at her in disgust, anguish in his eyes. What a waste. Her life was gone and her blood was completely putrid. It seemed the zombies didn't have a taste for vampire.

Passing her, Mithias entered the broken and ransacked store. Tearing into the guncases caused some noise, but he was now armed to the teeth. ... Hell, it never hurt.

Back on the street, he continued to walk. If normal, living humans still existed in this world, he had to find them. He had to find out what had happened and protect them, and eventually, he'd have to drink. He headed at random toward the group that had a girl in a monowheel and someone around 10' tall in full armor. At some point he would be approaching the human compound, having been led by a faint scent of warm blood.

[User]
Goldibanne, Face of Innocence(?)

Goldibanne smiled pleasantly at the men in front, and kicked her feet cheerfully as the van drove along. This was a downright unpleasant world, to be certain. All the animate dead, all the fire and burning, all the highly unpleasant odors that seemed to rather permeate the air... ah, this was really quite awful. It was in dire need of sprucing up... and of some serious cleaning. Very bloody cleaning, but cleaning none the less. The living doll patted the huge wolf lying on her with a smile, humming a little to herself as she did. Certainly their surroundings were miserable, but there was no reason for her to be miserable herself, was there?

Upon their arrival, Goldibanne noticed that there were a few more people who had appeared, definitely seeming to be others who had been summoned by Lydia. Well, it was time to get out.

"Okay, wolfy," she said, brightly, patting Sif again, "I need to get up, so it'd be nice if you got off of Goldibanne's legs~"

[Assistant]
Let New York say fuck Sleep - Shotaro and Philip

"Ah! You're right, that's not important now." Shotaro shook his head, disappointed in himself for getting distracted by something so relatively small when there was the whole "world at stake" deal in front of him.

"I still stand by that this would be an interesting topic to talk about," Philip defended himself in his typical straightforward tone, "But you are right, we should be more serious about this. Another time then." He closed his eye again to focus on the bookshelves flying past within his mind. "Keywords if you please, Shotaro.

So as not to fall behind and start losing time, Shotaro slung his arm around Philip's shoulder and started walking with him to follow Satori. "Keywords: New York City; Popular Locations; Underground."

"Rather vague terms… But I'll see what I can look up with it." Philip remarked. The shelves in his mind narrowed significantly to just a few, but there was still a great number of books and information to sift through.

[User]
Kagatsuchi

"Murgle." Tailred's face turned pale as she saw Arakune engulf the two girls and did SOMETHING to them. Judging from the fact that there was no struggling and the mass looked the same as before disappearing itself, she assumed the thing acted as some sort of transporter- taking the two of them somewhere. That was both good and bad- good because no immediate harm would come to the two (hopefully) and bad because now she knew naught where they went. Well, rule of thumb in this situation would be to check places like warehouses or out of the way buildings or abandoned factories since that was how villains often did things. "Hup." Bending down low for a moment, the girl then launched herself several hundred feet up before using her pyrokinetic abilities to transform her slight frame into a fiery falling star towards the nearest group of any such suspicious places.

[Assistant]
Sir Artorias

Now that they had arrived, one of the two humans that had been more or less rescued from the horde of what was frankly cannon fodder had gone off, and Artorias took a minute to evaluate the buildings around them: too small. At least, too small for him to fit comfortably whilst standing erect, which was more than could be said for if Gough had been in his place. So he waited calmly for their remaining guide to actually show them where to go.

Sif, meanwhile, gave Goldibanne a reproachful look at being called 'wolfy', but moved when Artorias--taking note of the wolf's continued immobility--said their name, jumping off and sitting beside the wolf knight.

[User]
Shirabe Tsukuyomi - Red Blade of War

With another sigh, Shirabe disengaged her monowheel, settling back onto the skate-gears in her boots. The soldiers around the base were making her slightly on edge, even though her FIS days were long behind her and this was another universe entirely.

[Assistant]
Akuma, Supreme Master of the Fist
- 13th Hierarchical City of Kagutsuchi

While Akuma's throw had been mostly successful, his attempt to strike the fop in the process failed. To make matters worse, he was caught off guard by a sudden shockwave emanating from the doll. The blast sent him back a fair distance, leaving Akuma unable to reach Relius prior to the latter's retreat. Thus, the martial artist was deprived of a fulfilling battle for the second time today.

"We will conclude our duel in the future, then."

With that, Akuma's attention shifted to his supposed allies. The gold-clad man had mysteriously vanished, perhaps through some unknown sorcery. Two of the young girls had been engulfed by the black mass, and appeared to have been killed. While they were mere children, they had chosen to become combatants, and met a violent end. Such was the life of a warrior. As for the red-haired child, she had chosen to abandon them entirely, for reasons unknown to Akuma. Finally, the youth in the black coat seemed to be heading towards the din of battle in the distance. Viewing this as the only sensible course of action, Akuma fell in behind him.

Perhaps he'd find a worthy opponent in this world yet.


[System]
25 | Female | Human

Appearance:

On the smaller side for an armed combatant, Narcissa standing at a petite 5' 3." She has dark hair, with a noble tint of blue, matching azure eyes, pale skin, and an impeccable, smug posture that seems to compensate for an otherwise diminutive frame.
Personality: Narcissa is a woman that is ambitious, conceited, and not quite humble at all. Nonetheless, she was raised well, and honoring the principles of noblesse oblige, offers an honorable and generous disposition when obliged, and otherwise shows an educated upbringing in her demeanor and manner of speech.

Although she carries the tainted name of her family house, she remains proud of her heritage and works hard to restore its name to its former standing. Despite her subtly grating personality and a preponderance towards self-promotion, her true intentions can be a tough nut to crack. It's not entirely wrong to say that her allegiances and motivations are influenced more by political expediency rather than a true devotion to a cause or order. She is unafraid to use morally gray, although not necessarily evil, means to an end either in support of herself or even of the principals she serves to uphold, and when these cracks show through, does little to help the cause of restoring her good name.

Brief Backstory:

House Rauthier was an influential noble family that held a significant marquessate on the Thaln-Velt border. For hundreds of years, they were the stewards of this border region, known for their quality of their knights and the bustling trade city that was the seat of the Marquess of Rauthier. Born of high birth, Narcissa was the third child of the marquess; while she would not be heir to her father's titles, she was still groomed as a knight and protector of realm, a tradition of the family in favor of simply just marrying off their daughters for political prestige.

In the War of the Red Flag, House Rauthier threw in their lot with Phoran Cal, lending their substantial forces to his cause. Some say the Marquess was tricked into aiding the rebellious lord, while others say or he was corrupted or blackmailed, but the truth was that the Marquess had simply been won over by promises of greater power and land. In the end, he and his family were crushed and destroyed in the closing months of the war, with his lands sacked and seized in the subsequent sieges.

Narcissa had always remained skeptical of the rebellion, preferring peace and the status quo, but pursuant to her father's request, and initially won over by the cause, Narcissa fought with them against the Kingdom. As the war continued on, she became disillusioned by the breadth of the treachery involved within her family and the rebels and tried unsuccessfully to convince the rest of her family to cease their support. Seeing the writing on the wall, she defected back to the Kingdom and fighting on their side to the conclusion of the war. In the hopes of preserving the honor of her family name and titles, she entered the order of Iron Rose Knights to redeem both herself, the reputation of her family, and to restore the seat that would now be otherwise her glory. Although it is clear she has dubious motivations, she acquits herself well of the Order's cause, and shows no reason for anybody to doubt her loyalties.

Equipment:

Narcissa holds a lance that ran in her family for many generations as her primary weapon. It is a thin spear made of a lightweight metal alloy that has, according to some smiths, since been lost to recent memory. It has a robust anti-magic enchantment that is able to temporarily disrupt any low to medium level magic that it touches, be it a magic shield, rune, or another magic enchantment on a weapon.

She also has a kite-shield, proudly adorned with her family crest. It has a similar enchantment as her lance, but is a mere facsimile of the original enchantment and only has a minor effect against magic.

Her sidearms of choice are an arming sword of good quality and a simple dirk hidden away, but they otherwise have no notable provenance or ability aside from their workmanship.

Given her smaller frame, her preferred armor is comparatively light compared to other knights for better speed and mobility, forgoing full torso and upper leg armor for a small breastplate over a gambeson and chainmail. This equipment is enchanted for durability and additional stopping power, providing a better approximation to full plate than it otherwise would.

She has additional, heavier armor to make up a full suit if the situation calls for it, but aside from respectable quality, is unremarkable in any respect.

She also has a horse, it's white and likes maple syrup crystals.

Skills:

Narcissa is a respectably trained knight, with reasonable skill in wielding both axes and swords of most variety. Her true skill lies in the polearm, however, learned with impeccable technique and footwork and with a small flair for the dramatic. She's a competent on a horseback, and while isn't particularly gifted at magic, has a keen sense of detecting when or where magic has been used. She also fancies herself a reasonable stateswoman, but really hasn't had much of a chance to put that to the test.

[User]
Fleuri Jodeau

Fleuri was startled by the abrupt ambush, with a bandit boldly attacking the captain at the wagon and more emerging from the woods. He wasn't shaken, however; the captain had a plan, and this ambush was not going to thwart it. Hearing Fanilly's rallying cry, he turned and cantered to the left flank. The terrain further in was too wooded for fighting on horseback, but his horse would be useful for getting him into position as quickly as possible, and the attackers had made the mistake of emerging from the thicket instead of taking shelter within it.

The knight reached a suitable location from which to attack from, slowing to a stop. Fleuri discarded his lance and dismounted as soon as he reached the edge of the flank, drew his greatsword from a scabbard tied to the saddle, and briefly adjusted the fit of his helmet. He was ready. As the other knights closed in on the enemy, Fleuri rushed in as well. He circled around into the edge of the forest and charged into the bandits' flank, sword held high. There was no better way to destroy a foe's carefully laid plan and sow panic in their ranks than by hitting them where they didn't expect it. And from the look of this ambush, the bandits' plan was certainly not carefully laid.

Fleuri targeted a bandit at the edge of the enemy band, a man in leather armor, wielding a handaxe and crude wooden shield. "For Reon! For the Order!" he shouted as he charged, both to frighten his foe and to amp himself up for the battle ahead.

His target appeared to panic when he saw and heard Fleuri closing in, instinctively ducking and raising his shield to block the assault. It didn't do any good- the poor angle of the shield enabled the knight's greatsword to cut through it, fatally striking the bandit in the head through his leather skullcap with a sickening noise. The man crumpled to the ground, his left arm held aloft by the shield that was still stuck in his assailant's sword.

Fleuri placed his boot on the shield and pulled on his blood-stained sword, wrenching it free and turning to another bandit. If they were all as poor warriors as the dead man in front of him, this would be less of a battle and more of a slaughter. It was going to be a bloody evening, but by Reon, none of these murderers would be allowed to escape.

[Assistant]
"Understood."

His dismount was immediate, swinging off of his steed with practiced ease and drawing his longsword upon landing. Sliding free of scabbard upon his back (hitched up in the transition from mounted to grounded to facilitate this), it glinted dangerously in the evening light, well-kept but otherwise... nondescript. He was neither the caliber nor pedigree of knight to name his blade.

However.

Seize the initiative. Take it and press it for all you're worth. Fight in The Before.

He surged forward, blade floating above his shoulder in a muted form of the High or Roof Guard, covering distance between the road and the nearest bandit who had appeared from the treeline that he had moments before been eyeing to enter as a scout within moments. The man was somewhat scrawny, wearing a patchwork armoring of layered hide and mail near his joints, and upon his countenance was an expression that suggested a note of trepidation at the idea of facing the Iron Rose Knights in open combat. Understandable.

He held in his hands a sword. It was short and shoddily made, the type Gerard had seen and faced often in those seven years before knighthood. Chipping ran its length, and the knuckles squeezed white as the highwayman's grip attempted to strangle whatever wood was beneath the pommel's leather. The blade was covered in a brownness that suggested not rust— but blood. Recently dried, lining up with the attack they had stumbled into. Unforgivable.

The knight's eyes shone and his guard raised higher, now overhead. He had neither caliber nor pedigree to his name, true, and his sword had no title bestowed upon it— But when the order was given, neither he nor it would hesitate. The Before and The After were a wellspring to all skills, and he had learned to always seize The Before. When you have initiative, you control the fight, and your opponent wilts under having to defend himself from you.

The bandit stepped back, raising his sword high—

And Gerard was upon him.

From the Roof Guard, the brigand made a natural assumption: the knight was to strike upon his head like hammering an anvil. He had a decent chance of deflecting such a blow if his blade wouldn't break from the force— yet no such blow came. Instead the knight drew a glinting arc, stepping out to his right and bringing the blade around to bite into his skull, top hand now leading and thumb pressed against the flat of his blade. Driven by the full rotational chain of his legs and hips, this Thwarting Strike was one of the master cuts he had repeated thousands of times against any manner of foe, real or imagined.

The Bandit fell.

Onto the next. They were not far.

Now in the Ox Guard after that initial hew, Sir Segremors spotted the bandit's fellow charging him, before the first's corpse had even hit the ground. Trying to use his comrade as a sort of concealment or distraction, then. With his woodsman's hatchet held high, ready to split the knight's skull in two, the man let loose a war cry. He had merely one or two strides left to be in range for such a feat. Cunning, after a fashion.

Gerard's rear hand re-positioned, pushing against his pommel as he stepped into the man's advance with a thrust. Simply extending his lead arm and putting his weight into it was almost natural from Ox. Startled by the sudden shortening of the space between them, his foe wrenched his arms downward, trying to capitalize or even just react—

But fell short and limp, bouncing off of the crossguard of the sword he had run himself onto.

The young knight kicked the body free, taking in the battlefield that had emerged as he did so. Dame Larette had set to one flank, Sir Jodeau another. The Vanguard was engaging the bandit's in earnest. He spied Druncarde, Knight of The River, moving towards the rear of their group and caught up with what seemed to be a bunch of harassing crossbowmen. Too far now for Gerard to help without passing through most of the others.

Perhaps lend more strength to the front, then.

He set off again. It was as always.

Onto the next. They were not far.


[System]
Runan Isles Savior Corps

---

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

Character Info

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

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

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

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

Character Info

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

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

She had no idea.

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

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

Character Info

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

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

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

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

Character Info

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

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

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

Character Info

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

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

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

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

[User]
Follen never once pressured her to speak in these sessions. Sometimes Quinn came in ready to go, and would talk almost the entire time, in her own halting way. Others, they would for minutes, quiet, while she thought and he smiled, encouraging but not insistent. Now and then he would scratch something down on his folder, even when she didn't speak, as though he'd heard something anyway.

This time he didn't, though when she finally did break her silence, and mentioned the dream journal, the pen did move. "Oh, well that's alright," he said. "'Busy' is certainly an understatement. I don't think you could be faulted for forgetting your own name in all this, ah, excitement—to make an understatement of my own."

The light in the faux-window was still early-dawn, violets and bloody oranges. No birdsongs today—he sometimes forewent those when he had something that required his focus early in the morning.

"Dreams are important of course, and I'm very interested to hear about them, but I believe the waking world has taken precedence these past few days, wouldn't you say?" He smiled again, knowingly, comfortingly. He so rarely asked her to speak on a topic directly, but now and then it seemed necessary to offer a gentle nudge. "Perhaps you would like to talk about what happened at the duel. Or perhaps you've had quite enough talk about that. Tell me, Quinn, darling: what has been on your mind, really?"

[Assistant]
Of course Doctor Follen would know that she wasn't being forthcoming. Even if she didn't wear her heart on her face, he always seemed to figure it out. Sometimes it hurt, because he knew how to get to what she was trying to avoid. But there was a kind of happiness that came with unburdening herself to him, even if saying what it was made her feel awful. And...she really did have a lot to talk about. It was just hard.

"W—well," she began haltingly, nearly forcing herself to go past an almost inaudible murmur. She knew that Doctor Follen wouldn't blame her, just like Dahlia and Besca hadn't. And even though she'd told them, it was still burning a hole through her and she didn't quite know why.

"When the swordsman Modir had the sword in the ground next to me, I—he—it—" She was stuttering now, struggling to get the words out. A part of her thought that he wouldn't believe her. That he'd call her crazy. She was half convinced that she was.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Doctor Follen would never do that. He'd never hurt her so deeply, she knew with the utmost conviction. If there was anyone she could tell outside of her family, it was him. Another deep breath. And finally, the inevitable third.

"...It s-spoke. To m—me.

"And—and you can ask Besca too!" She sounded almost frantic now. Despite everything, that feeling that he wouldn't believe her was still there. It still clung to her. And it just made it all that much more worse. "it joined the comms! She heard it too! You have to believe me!"

A moment passed. That sudden energy deserted her, and she pulled her legs up onto the chair, just like before. This would be the hard part. The really hard part. It was like picking at a scab. It wasn't that bad to start, but it would just hurt more and more, and once it was done it would bleed for who knows how much longer.

"It...it knew my name, Doctor Follen. It called me by name."

One final deep, deep breath. And then the scab came off.

"It said it—it was h—hunting me. That it had found me there. And that...that it had..." Her voice dropped to a whisper in earnest, hoarse and grating though it was. "That it had found me in Runa." She started shaking violently, more than usual, as the guilt tore back through her. "...It was at...at Hovvi." Her heart turned to lead in her chest and she squeezed her eye shut. Her voice steadily escalated, eventually building up to a pale imitation of a yell:

"It's my fault, Doctor Follen. It's all my fault. They all died because of me. Just because I was there! It's all my fault!"


[System]
Super Name: Arsenal (formerly Speedy and Red Arrow)

Powers: None. Roy is, however, trained in archery by Oliver Queen himself. In addition, Roy has become a skilled hand-to-hand combatant and adept at using a wide array of weapons both standard and improvised. Thanks to some of his previous... connections, Roy speaks fluent Japanese and can also understand Russian, though he still needs to work on speaking the latter. Thanks to his time spent along side both Green Arrow and various members of the Bat-family, Roy has developed a keen analytical sense and has since become quite a detective in his own right.

Technology: Compound bow capable of folding in on itself for portability, some diamond-tipped arrows as well as a few "trick arrows" capable of taking down opponents non-lethally. These generally include compressed nets, blunted tips (most think of the famous boxing glove arrow), taser arrows capable of discharging an electrical current to stun attackers, among others. Roy's other weapons include a pair of Glock 41's, two combat knives hidden in his boots, and finally a pair of titanium batons. Roy's prosthetic arm - made of a synthium alloy - can also be used as a makeshift weapon or shield but he prefers to avoid potentially damaging it if possible. His commonly used utilities include a Batman-inspired gas-powered grapple gun, smoke bombs, flash bombs, and a voice modulator worn under his hood to distort his voice and prevent someone from recognizing him.

Acquaintances:
Oliver Queen (Green Arrow) - Former mentor and surrogate father-figure.
Dick Grayson (Nightwing) - Fellow founding member of the former Teen Titans. Batman's former student adopted Ward.
Vic Stone (Cyborg) - Another former Titan, and was the one who built Roy's prosthetic arm.
Jade Nguyen (Cheshire) - An infamous assassin and Roy's ex-lover.

Personality: If one were to describe Roy in a single word, "stubborn" would likely be their first choice. Roy's stubbornness combined with his opinionated attitude - one he likely picked up from being around Ollie for so long - can and has made him difficult to work with in the past. In recent years, Roy appears to have to realized this flaw and finds himself actively trying to improve his attitude, with varying degrees of success. Despite this, Roy still has a few "berserk buttons", as it were. Chief among those being drugs, heroin in particular. Having had a history with heroin himself, seeing others letting themselves be dragged down by has a way of setting him off and making him more eager than usual to take down whoever selling the drug. Ever since Anarchy's takeover, Roy has found himself getting progressively angrier at the world in general, as if it somehow betrayed him for letting Anarchy take over so easily. None has earned his ire more than Oliver Queen though, whose insistence on continuing to support Anarchy's efforts may as well be like putting a knife in Roy's back.

Bio: Roy was born of Navajo descent, even bearing a tribal tattoo to represent that fact. In his early childhood, Roy was adopted and raised by Broken Bow, a Navajo medicine chief who taught the young Roy the basics of archery. Roy didn't know his biological father that well, but he knew the man was a forest ranger that died tragically in a forest fire. After Brave Bow's death, and thus having lost two fathers, a grief-stricken Roy found himself lost. He was falling in with the wrong kinds of crowds, even becoming a heroin addict in the process. Needless to say, Roy's life was at a low point. That changed when he met Oliver Queen.

Roy first met Ollie when the latter approached him as Green Arrow, convincing Roy not to go through with robbing a nearby convenient store. Oliver could have just left Roy's fate up to the system, but instead decided to help the young teen himself. He took Roy in, gave him a home and essentially adopted him as his ward. Noticing Roy's existing skill with a bow, Oliver decided to train him further. Before long, Roy was fighting alongside Green Arrow as Speedy.

Sometime later, Speedy met and became friends with a number of other teenage sidekicks. Robin, Kid Flash, Aqualad, Donna Troy and himself started a team of their own called the Teen Titans. While in the Titans, Roy had a brief relationship with Donna that, frankly, didn't last long. The Titans themselves didn't last forever either, due mostly their roster constantly changing with people coming in and out of the team. Soon even Robin, who by then had rebranded himself as Nightwing, left the team he had helped create along with his then-lover Starfire. The Titans disbanded shortly after, and Roy found himself turning to heroin once more.

It didn't take Oliver long to discover Roy's relapse, and angered, he threw Roy out. Roy wasn't on the streets for long, instead he was taken in by Black Canary, who helped him break the addiction once and for all. But by then his relationship with Oliver had become strained, so Roy borrowed a page from Dick's playbook and rebranded himself as Red Arrow.

As Red Arrow, Roy found himself once again among the ranks of the Titans. Vic Stone - aka Cyborg and a member of the former team before it disbanded - asked Roy to help him start a new Teen Titans, and even Nightwing approved the idea despite politely refusing the offer to join the new team. This new team of Titans lasted all the way until Superman's death, only disbanding because Anarchy forced them to. During this team's tenure, Roy met the assassin Cheshire during an undercover mission meant to take her down. Instead the two ended up falling deeply in love with each other, and so Roy couldn't bring himself to take her down when the time came, instead letting her go.

After Anarchy's takeover, the New Titans lost contact with each other. Roy at first tried take Anarchy down on his own, but found himself defeated and dismembered for his troubles. He was forced to go into hiding after that, but during that time he reached out to Vic and his former teammate built an advanced prosthetic arm for him, but advised Roy to stay hidden and to give up on taking Anarchy down. Ever stubborn, Roy's response was to sever all his previous ties, forever discarding both Speedy and Red Arrow. He donned a new mask and hood, started carrying and wielding more weapons than just his bow. With such a small arsenal of weapons he always seemed to have on him, it wasn't hard for Roy to earn a new name... Arsenal.

[User] As Toby sat there in the alley, seeing what just happened. He saw the group drop into the sewer, and he kind of wanted to follow them. But how can he trace a group of, he guessed "heroes", through an entire cities sewer system? Oh well, might as well try. He sneaked over to the man-hole and quietly dropped down. Then proceeded to follow the footprints as far as he could and heard people walking, so he slowed down and continued to follow. He found them, they weren't moving very quickly. But he could get the name "Wayne" out of his mind, it meant something to him, but he couldn't remember what. But he didn't think about it too much as he continued to follow the group as quietly as possible.

[Assistant]
"You know, I could just carry you. You don't weigh anything to me."

Roy shifted his gaze, ever-so-slightly glancing to their rear without actually turning his head to look. He knew they were being followed since before his episode. Unless one had League-of-Assassins-level training, then sneaking up on a trained combatant like Roy was nigh-impossible. As a response to Light, he said, "That wasn't why I stopped." Which certainly sounded like a cryptic answer. Of course, that was the point, it needed to sound generic so that their mysterious tail wouldn't be suspicious. Thankfully, that wouldn't be needed for much longer.

Without any kind of warning, Roy snatched a specific arrow from his quiver and - after quickly spinning around with his bow - fired it into the darkness behind them. The arrow stuck to the corner of a wall, only to suddenly light up like some kind of oversized roman candle. It was effectively a flare attached to an arrow that would light up that particular section of the sewer. Unfortunately for their follower, bright green hair and yellow eyes were difficult enough to keep hidden without a flare lighting up the room. His presence was now revealed for Light to see.

"Consider that your warning shot!" Roy barked, having already switched his voice modulator back on, his voice sounded like it had previously: deeper and distorted, "Since you already passed up a prime opportunity to attack us..." he said, indicating the two hours he'd spent riding out his episode, "...I'll just assume you don't work for Patterson, but whoever you are you've got about ten seconds to explain yourself, or this next one..." he'd already drawn one of his normal diamond-tipped arrows, "...goes through your heart!"

[User] As the arrow hit the wall near him, it made a loud snapping noise which scared Nuke. Then he slowly stood up and walked forwards with his hands in the air, "Calm down, I'm not one of them. I heard you say the name 'Wayne'. I know that name from somewhere, but I don't remember where." Then he walked into the light. "I want to help you. I'm tired of them pushing us around." He said as he stood there, afraid of how they may react. "I'm one of you. I have 'powers', I guess you could say. Just give me a chance."

[Assistant] Looking at the scene unfold, Light shrugged. She figured if the guy was there to attack them he would've done it already, but Roy's reaction was justified of course with most of the world unwillingly against the two of them. After listening to the newcomer trying to defend himself from Roy's threatening arrow, Light said "Hey buddy. If that were true, you would've said "Hey, wait up guys!" or something like that, right?" Shrugging again, she stuck her thumb out at Nuke. "So, if your one of us, why not prove it? Roy, you tell him what to do. If you let me do the proof thingy, I'll probably embarrass the poor guy." She said, ending with a mischievous toothy grin.


[System]
Age: 28

Species: Drell

Gender: Male

Occupation: Logistic and Tactical Expert, Mercenary

Class: Vanguard

Powers: Heavy Barrier, Lifting Shockwave, Biotic Charge, Heavy Warp, Carnage, Adrenaline Rush

Weapons: M96 Mattock, M-300 Claymore, M6 Carnifex, M-920 Cain

Armor: Blood Dragon Armor

Apparel: When not in his armor, Ekrom wears the standard garb of the Drell, a high collared and wide chest affair. The material is light so it the user is kept cool, but fits to the form. The sleeves end in gloves, making the shirt one seamless piece.

Equipment: Chameleon Omni-Tool (equipped with blade), Savant X, Omnigel, Medigel X(fully stocked), Shadow Sword (frigate)
S H A D O W . S W O R D

Turian- Valkyr
Batarian-Urg
Krogan- ???
Personality: Ekrom is fiercely spiritual, a characteristic falling out of the trend for the modern-day Drell. Even with such beliefs however, he never held the Hanar in high-esteem, leaving their service as soon as the Compact would permit. He approaches everything logically, but that has never detracted from a wry sense of humor and a familiar tone to any he would call comrade. Not one to suffer deception, especially self-deception, he is straightforward and will speak his opinion whether requested or not.

Ekrom was like any other drell for 21 years, being the Hanars' deadly hand in the galaxy. The drell was sent on missions most would never come back from, but Ekrom is a survivor. After nearly a decade and a half of active service in the Compact, Ekrom's luck finally ran out. His team of four other drells were sent into a hostile area of space, where batarian pirates had regularly intercepted and stolen hanar trade ships. After locating the pirates' ship frequency, the drell task force made their move.

As soon as they came out of the FTL jump, everything went to hell. A second pirate ship pulled out from the shadow of a nearby gas giant which had masked its signal. Ekrom's ship's engine were compromised with the first shot, cutting off any hope of escape. Before his men could get to the escape pods, a second shot tore a whole in the hull close to the air lock where his team had waited for infiltration. They never had a chance as the vacuum of space tore apart the ship's metal shell as easy as a wet piece of paper. Ekrom sprinted to the only workable space pod, struggling to pull himself by various beams and consoles. Finally, he managed to get strapped in and escaped, reaching an FTL jump with only a second to spare. He had the honor of watching his ship explode before his pod took him to safety.

Inconsolable, Ekrom cursed the hanar and their missions. He renounced his active status in the Compact and fled to Omega, putting his prodigious skills, upgrades, and talents to work. He'd not been the normal drell, trained instead for front-line and high risk fighting. Most were wetwork specialist, taking advantage of the eidetic memory common to all drell. Ekrom's genetic coding showed a high compatibility with body enhancement technology. With heavy skin upgrades and extensive heavy muscle weaves, his endurance and strength rivaling a male krogan in his prime. This allows him to use the devastating Claymore shotgun while keeping the bones in his shooting arm intact. Furthermore, the hanar bought the very best of biotic implants for Ekrom, their prodigy, allowing him to use the legendary biotic ability, Biotic Charge.

Ekrom found that his particular talents were in high demand and that he could not handle the amount of work without his own personal spacecraft. He bought a state of the art frigate at a fraction of the price in a C-sec auction. He installed a frequency jamming unit and with a risky trade with the Collectors for a newly made human colony's security plans, installed an advanced Thanix Cannon. Burying his morals, he went through with the deal, after heavy negotiations. The mysterious race agreed to his terms, apparently finding the terms agreeable. After hiring a crew of fifteen, Ekrom began his career as a mercenary band leader. His outfit was named Amonkira's Hand and his ship the Shadow Sword. Now, he's looking for new contracts and contracts to fund his ambitious enterprises.

[User]
Jason made sure to take note of where everyone took a stance for a tactical appraisal. Lysia took a position with much better cover, but she had a longer distance to run to the ship. He couldn't help but return the courteous yet slightly flirtatious smile. Jason's worries were relieved when Icarus commanded that no C-sec officers were to be killed, now the only casualties they'd have to avoid were their own. She then headed straight into the ship, which at first would have seemed like a cowardice thing to do. But looking at it from a tactical approach, 3 would be enough to cover the entrance while providing the minimal amount of people they'd need to evacuate. Had she stayed out they would have only slightly more fire power but an evac extension of about 10 seconds minimum plus another body they would have to cover for. Overall it was better she stay out of the fight.

Not even a second after Icarus closed the airlock, a squad of C-sec plain clothes officers appeared from the hallway. One of them screamed for them to lay down their arms and surrender, this was followed by the Turian opening fire sending the officers into hiding.

"I had a clear shot on that guy and I had to fire over his head. This no killing thing is bullshit!" The merc yelled over the rapid gun fire.

"Hey, think of this like a game! See how close you can get to the target without hitting it." Jason said back as he jumped from cover to start his round of suppressing fire. "If it's too hard for you, you can head back into the ship and get that other Turian out here. I mean, it was her order, plus she's probably a better shot anyway." The Turian gave him a low growl but didn't retort.

Jason kept up the pressure but soon his gun overheated forcing him back into cover. As he ducked he peared to the side to keep an eye on the officers. Just as luck would have it an actually armored and ready squad was making their way to aid the plain clothes. "Shit we got enemy reinforcements incoming. Your boss better hurry up with those locks!"

[Assistant]
Most of the time, his officer duties were never easy. Yet, that mission had just gotten a lot more complicated. Aaron ducked behind a cargo container as soon as the shooting begun, trying to appear as harmless as possible accordingly to his superior's orders.

"Good grief" he found himself thinking, changing ammo to the only weapon he had. "At least they've got suits to protect them. This ain't easy." Take down a small smuggling team: the report never talked about experienced biotics and marksmen. Just because that wasn't enough, he had to cope with all that while trying to keep at ease that hot-head he had for a sister through short and evasive messages on his datapad.

He had already arrived at the designed location fifteen minutes before his fellow officers, had the time to scout the zone, and even take a close look at the mercenaries and the ship they were trying to stop. Hell! He was hiding just beside it: he was checking on the outer hull conditions when the C-Sec stormed in. Those unrelated with the matter had fled, or hid behind what nearer cover they could find, exactly like he did.

He took a rapid glance at the enemy line of defense. Barricaded over the dock. An asari, an human, a krogan and a turian. It almost felt like one of those old-human stereotyped puns. "... they each enter the same bar, one after another." reminded himself absent-mindedly. "The krogan beats the crap out of everyone, yet falls victim of the same alcohol which allowed him to survive the free-for all. Thus the winner is the salarian bartender and..." he stopped, noticing two things. Firstly, how bad he was at telling jokes, but that was public knowledge already; second, someone was missing to the count. Could it be-

A wild bullet hit his hiding spot, interrupting his thread of thought. He snapped back behind the box, utterly shocked by the close shot. Near a mercenary ship, the containers could contain all sorts of trinkets, some of which extremely dangerous and inflammable. No hissing sounds. He was greatly relieved to note he hadn't yet blown up, and that the cargo was most likely not hazardous. "Still" he thought "better take a cover closer to the squad". If he happened to find himself in trouble, he preferred to have the guns of his comrades close by, and not those of the mercenaries. Aaron quietly moved backwards from his position, sneaking a peek at the battle ground from time to time as he quietly reached the secondary access point to the walkway. It was then that he saw the drell fumbling over the magnetic locks of the cruise.