[System]
Eyrie Schemacloves

Personal Dossier

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Age

18

Gender

Female

Origin

Boletus, Kepler System

Appearance

Usually, Eyrie's clothes consist of long-sleeved shirts that hide the skin up to her wrists, yet she doesn't attempt to conceal her legs in a similar manner, donning skirts when she's able to instead. Though her outfits commonly exhibit desaturated colors, mostly shades of grey and dark blues, the brightly red-framed glasses that sit upon her nose draw attention to her snow white hair and dull green eyes. The only significant features of her appearance.

Personality

Eyrie is an optimist. A gross overestimation, but the closest word to how she sees the world. It isn't confidence that drives her thinking, as her ability to argue is next to non-existent, nor is it an overestimation of the future, which would've been a symptom of pride. Rather, Eyrie merely believes that things will eventually sort themselves out, a baseless hope that allows her to get through each day. No matter what happens, no matter the struggles, the future is always capable of bringing light into her world. Any victory, no matter how small, is a victory, and she will treasure every single one.

Background Information

On Boletus, a world where a bigger population than most results in bigger problems, The Schemacloves family barely scraped by. Living day by day, paycheck to paycheck, the young Eyrie was merely happy to be alive. To her, they had everything they ever needed, no matter if she would sometimes have birthdays go by uncelebrated or merely acknowledged with a cupcake and a single candle. Her parents worked hard, she could understand that, and the discomfort of a usually empty household was worth the happy moments that lightly sprinkled her life.

She did not expect the sudden bomb dropped upon her a certain night, that she would be shipped to a different system to study in the most prestegious school in the known universe. Eyrie couldn't imagine a world outside of the city she lived in her entire life, yet she knew any sort of disagreement would be met with indignation, merely by the unsettling light within her parent's eyes. A desperate air that rolled around their home, an atmosphere she purposely ignored every time she heard the shouting in the middle of the night about bills and impossible future plans. Something she understood, deep down, was somehow her fault.

So when they asked, no, commanded her to excell at Taiyōtawa Academy, all Eyrie could do was bow her head in defference, no matter the emotions that swirled within her gut.
Attributes & Other Information

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Coordinator Type

Tactical Coordinator

Coordination Profile

Awareness | ■■■□□
Composure | ■■■■□
Endurance | ■■□□□
Instinct | ■■■■□
Intellect | ■■□□

[User]
---

"Ugh."

The sound came out unwillingly, the brunette holding a hand over her mouth as she squeezed her eyes shut. The first and last bite of these 'meals' were always the hardest in the girl's opinion, but at the very least she was able to stuff them down without throwing up at this point. She naively believed after a month she'd get used to it, but honestly, the tasteless meals just made her depressed whenever it was mealtime. The only silver lining was that she was probably thinner than ever, but she had to admit it came at a price too great. Would it really be too much to make this stuff have some kind of flavor?

Aurora placed down her utensils, more relieved that she was finished. The smart thing to do was to probably get started on her assignment; the science side of being a coordinator was definitely a weakness of hers. Sure, she was brilliant of course, but actually sitting down and writing out these assignments bored her to death. Not that she'd let that stop her, but it did require giving herself a pep talk anytime just to start. If only she was back in high school where she had droves of nerds willing to do her assignments for her again.

Clucking her tongue at the thought, the brunette decided to take her leave; there wasn't any point in dawdling in a sea of strangers. Maybe she should take some of her pent-up energy and actually try to get to know someone, but no one really caught her attention. Well, there was Erik Nyqvist-Åkerfeldt, the adopted son of Dr. Øystein Åkerfeldt, but it wasn't like she was familiar with him. The two had met in passing some time ago at a fundraiser but barely exchanged pleasantries. He was definitely cute, yes, and she would give him some credit in that he was certainly enthusiastic when it came to anything involving the Valkyries. But she wasn't looking for a lecture, she was looking for fun.

No sooner had she let out a tiny sigh of exasperation when she spotted a dark-haired boy staring down at something. That one was in her class, too, wasn't he? She wracked her brain for a name, eventually landing on Sirius. Not that she remembered his last name, but as far as she was aware, it wasn't relevant. What was relevant was that she was very much a fan of the tall, dark, and handsome type. He looked annoyed at something, but that could easily be remedied.

With her mind made up, Aurora disposed of her tray before confidently taking a seat across from the boy. Resting her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands, she put on her best smile. "No need to get so worked up, here I am. Don't worry, you still have two other wishes," She teased, holding back a giggle.

---

[Assistant]
Sirius Leverant

Sirius wasn't sure if the disbelief made his outrage better or worse, as he seethed in the second-hand embarrassment of having invested his emotional energy into a group of losers. It was a small consolation that he hadn't put money on the match; he would need his stipend from home to continue purchasing outside food, or his rage truly would have nothing holding it back. Still, his inquiring mind needed to know just how it was possible a team with such a track record managed to botch such a simple game, and as he frantically tapped his way across the screen to find just that out, he caught sight of something—someone—in his peripheral vision.

"No need to get so worked up, here I am. Don't worry, you still have two other wishes,"

He looked up just in time to hear that, and witness the bright, bubbly smile that accompanied it. The sweetness with which it was delivered might have softened the resolve of many a male cadet. Not so for Sirius. He had known this type before, even attracted them. The green stripes on her uniform at least separated her from the average harlot in his mind. Aurora de Realis-Donati, a fellow pilot-in-training. He had gone to the lengths of memorizing at least those who would be his competition in the rankings, something those of lesser colors did not have the privilege of. But acknowledgement wasn't a shield from his wrath. He affixed her with piercing silver eyes for a long moment, expressing both disdain and perplexity at her statement as he mowed over his response. Apart from her pedigree, there wasn't so very much that separated her from the others of her ilk.

Well, aside from one thing. The vexation of his gaze changed to a certain sharpness as he came to a decision.

"You aren't the kind of cow I was wishing for."

Another piece of jerky found itself between his lips after he deadpanned those words.

[User]
Erik Nyqvist-Åkerfeldt

At the highest level of the lecture hall, an engineering student resisted the urge to yawn into his hand.

"And that will end our brief lecture on the role of mecha preceding the Valkyrie Project."

The doctor had been sure to brief him on the general curriculum of the academy before his enrollment, but he'd hoped that by thirty days into his stay at Taiyōtawa they would've at least gotten past subjects he'd already read up on years prior. From the way the vids had described it, Taiyōtawa Academy was the highest institution of learning in the entire Confederacy; where the galaxy's brightest minds flocked to determine the future of all who lived in it. So far, other than the frankly uncomfortable amount of attention he'd gotten from his teachers and classmates alike, the experience had been singularly unengaging.

While his peers all but began stampeding out of the classroom the instant the clock hit 1200, Erik listlessly opened his datapad, cycling through a number of diligently organized screens before tapping a label simply marked 'Taiyōtawa Essay'. The words had hardly left his instructor's lips before Erik was submitting the assignment and turning his datapad off once again. He hoped he'd get his results sometime over the weekend, not that it particularly mattered.

As the last student to make his way out of the classroom, Erik bowed respectfully towards the instructor and took his leave.

---

If there was one thing Erik could appreciate about the academy, it was the food. Not only was it parsecs above the kind of barely edible gruel they called food on Gandvik, but there was an almost endless amount of it. He didn't understand why the rest of the student body turned their noses up at it. If they'd ever felt real hunger in their lives their tunes would change in a heartbeat. Nevertheless, unlike many others, lunch was the highlight of Erik's day. The slightest hint of a smile even crossed his lips when it was his turn in line.

If not for his concentrated effort to avoid doing it, the former orphan likely would've gotten his food all over his uniform after he found a seat on the outskirts of the cafeteria. Even then, he devoured his meal uncharacteristically swiftly when compared to most everyone else in attendance. Although he'd been one of if not the last people to enter the lunch line, he was certainly the first to make a second, and probably the only, to make a third trip. To think, Dr. Donati thought the meals would be his least favorite part of school life.

[Assistant]
---

A what?

Slowly blinking her eyes, Aurora was a little confused. For one, the comparison was less than flattering--cows weren't exactly cute or nice to look at. She opened her mouth to ask before the realization hit her: he was comparing her unfavorably. But why? Was he blind? No, he wasn't if he knew what a cow looked like, but why would he say that? Every hair of hers was perfectly in place, her skin was smooth, and while the uniform wasn't the best, she didn't think it was that bad. It must have been a misunderstanding of some sorts--unless he was from some backwater planet that revered cows?

Either way, the brunette wasn't amused. She tried not to show it, but it wasn't often that she was handed an insult right off the bat like this. Was there something she had done to unintentionally insult him? Considering this was the first time they were interacting, no. She supposed the best thing to do would be to take her leave, but that would be too boring, wouldn't it? The best thing to do would be to brush it off; his type probably reveled from the attention.

Pursing her lips, Aurora made a small hum as she closed her eyes. "I suppose missing real food can do that to anyone," She mused out loud, placing her hands on the table as she thought of a way to recover. "I hope you'll forgive the intrusion, I just couldn't help myself. I think it'd be nice if we got to know each other a little better."

---


[System]
Gender: Female
Race: Hadrianite, although masquerading as a Chalcionese.
Age: 24
Outward appearance: Measuring at 5'5, Roze's figure is slim, curvy, and not much in the way of muscle – that the eye can see, that is; she's still got plenty of strength. Her face is younger than her years, being heart-shaped, with bright sapphire-like eyes, dimples, and delicate features, and even, mostly unmarred skin. Atop her comely face is an abundance of ebony black curls, reaching about her mid-back when she hasn't tied them up out of the way. Although slightly impractical in her line of work, she can't bring herself to cutting it short. Any scars she has retained through past battles have been on her body; most minor, but the biggest and most notable is a long, pale knife mark stretching from the base of her back, and curving around her body till it hits her mid-stomach on the left side.
Personality: Despite her somewhat dark background and hidden past, Rozalia tends to stay chipper in the line of fire. Retaining her humour, her optimism, and her wit, even in some of the darkest situations, it takes a damn lot to make her lose hope – because she is stubborn, determined, and will not go down without a fight. Not only that, but she keeps those that are dear to her safe. After the death of her entire family, she has become adamant that nothing like that would ever happen again. Almost obsessive when it comes to keeping others safe, she'll willingly throw herself into danger to prevent others getting harmed. Although this can be a definite weakness in the eyes of her enemies, she's quite happy retaining this way of thinking.
When not caught in a dire situation, she attempts to keep some form of professionalism among her betters - not that that works all the time. Speaking her mind is something common for her – a regrettable trait kept from when she was just young, not that she particularly cares. However, she is a pleasant companion to have. When not about her past, she tends to speak the truth, be it softly or harshly. It really depends on who she's talking to.

Biography: Rozalia was born as Lady Rosálie of the Jagaré family - one of seven children; the middle child, the youngest daughter. Kept safe within the empire of the Hadrianites, her family were rich, sheltered, and in good with the reigning family. In fact, Rosálie practically grew up in the palaces of the reigning family, being Hadrian VII's promised bride in the future. Things looked to be alright, for when she was young, she did not see the darkness surrounding that family, and was happy to be betrothed to a handsome man (despite the nearly 20 year age gap).
However, things turned sour rather quickly for young Rosa. As she grew, so did her knowledge of Hadrian's exploits - and she swiftly discovered traits within him that were fairly despicable and not all preferable for a future husband. Despite her pleadings, her parents kept the arranged marriage going for a good few years, up until she had reached 14 – at the point he had finished his conquering of Umeacha, and had turned his gaze to other lands; Chalcion. By this point, even Rosa's family were unsure of what sort of monster that they had affiliated themselves with, and broke off the marriage contract. Despite the fact that Rosa had obviously gone off the idea of being with him, Hadrian himself was still infatuated with her, and was enraged at the fact their marriage had been abandoned; for she was a most beautiful maiden, and he wanted her. Almost as much as his empire. To try and bring her back to him, willingly or not, he had her entire family slaughtered as traitors to the empire. Although horrified at the atrocity that he previously beloved had committed, she had been expecting something like this for a while; for years, she had privately honed her fighting skills. Unbecoming of a Lady, let alone a woman, but she was able to get the teachings she needed. She was able to escape Hadrian's guards, and flee the country in a mere fishing boat.
Once arriving at Chalcion, she continued her training with the money she had smuggled over with her. Eventually, the news of her family' slaughter became old, and was no longer talked about. Hadrian had bigger things to worry about, so attempts at finding her were abandoned in the first year of her escape. Lady Rosálie Jagaré was forgotten, and Rozalia Casador was born. As soon as Hadrian took Chalcion, she joined the ranks of Octavian, hoping to find her revenge, and return the homes of Hadrian's victims back to them.

Equipment: The standard leather armour of Octavian's army, although she's added a few small embellishments of her own. An extra strip of cloth here, something shortened there - just enough to not be obvious, but to make the armour her own. However, her weapons are far from normal; a sword and two matching daggers, both borne of the same mystical fires that exist in the furthest reaches of the lands. At least, that's what she truly believes - they are fairly unique. A stunning set of weapons, the blades and sharp, never needing to be tended to or sharpened, and the hilts are of a stunning gold colour; as strong as lead, but as light as feathers with the blades. Set into the hilt of the sword and each dagger is a gemstone. It sparkles almost unnaturally, so it is unsure of what gem it is, and where the weapons came from. All Roze knows is that she found them in a pirate's cove during one of her more rigorous training sessions, and they were supposedly able to kill anything; be it Elf or dragon. However, all she has killed is human, so she can't really put that to the test. Other than this, she has the standard bow and arrows kept with most soldiers, and various other steel daggers hidden about herself. In terms of personal items, she has nothing. She didn't want to risk anyone knowing who she was.

Skills: Is an all-round badass in terms of combat. Taking part in a grueling training since the age of 15, she's honed her skills with the blade and hand to hand. Although some way gain the upper hand over her, she has the tactical mind of a strategist to win a fight, no matter how big or strong the opponent.
She is also a keen diplomat, retained from her years as a Lady, probably. She manages to keep a cool head in most situations, managing to think of the more rational solution to a problem, as opposed to killing first, asking questions later.

Other: Enjoys singing in her spare – and alone – time; quite the lovely voice, but certainly not interested in sharing it with the world. She also has frequent nightmares, so either doesn't have much sleep, or just has more than a few drinks before laying down to sleep.

[User]
"Gods above, why are my legs so short? Go faster dammit!" Rozalia thought to herself angrily, brow furrowed in determination as she tore through the camp, arms pumping as her legs carried her as fast as they could go. Octavius needed to hear this information as soon as possible, but just as luck would have it, some bandits cut down her horse. Bastards. At the very least they wouldn't be bothering anyone else again, not if her swords had anything to say about it.
"Out of my way!" She practically bellowed at what she was certain was a superior officer as she barreled around the corner, wincing slightly at the angry yells from behind, but ignoring them anyway. There wasn't time. Lives could depend on this information.
After running full pelt for a good hour or so, she finally reached the commander's tent, in the centre of the camp. Legs trembling uncontrollably from the sudden stop, she approached the entrance, only to be pushed back by one of the soldiers positioned there.
"It's late, soldier. Why do you approach?" He began, looking down on this lower ranked woman with stern eyes.
"I have - information." She said between panting breaths. "And - I don't - give a damn - how late it is." She growled in response, momentarily forgetting herself - not that you could blame her. She was exhausted, having been at the city for a good few days, spying on the various different guard patrols in the city, practically running back without stopping, and was still suffering untended wounds from the run in she had had with the bandits. Cuts on the arms and side, they weren't particularly bad - unless you'd been sprinting a marathon with them, that was. Turning her gaze now to Octavius, still panting slightly, and blood still dribbling lazily from her light wounds, she stepped away from the guard. "It's in regards to the city, and the patrols. And your brother."

[Assistant]
After taking one more puff out of his pipe, Octavius lowered his pipe back into an ashtray he had put inside his tent after he witnessed the young woman arriving to report something. Obviously she was travelling on foot, and hence, she was very tired. Moreover, she was lightly wounded in the process. It was her duty to scout about Chalcivitas and report about the position of the guards on the walls of Chalcivitas, which would aid in the reclaiming of the city the day after this one. It seems that she succeeded, but without her horse. Nevertheless, Octavius had no time to bother with such things, and he listened to what she was saying, after she spoke to a soldier who was on the night watch. She explained herself by speaking about the Hadrianite security in Chalcivitas and how it could be dealt with, but also news which interested Octavius more personally, regarding Alexander, his brother, fellow prince of Chalcion...
"Alexander?" the young commander asked: "Tell me everything you know."

[User]
Pushing past the displeased guard, Roze saluted and bowed in front of her commander. This was the first time she'd even been close to Octavius, let alone talk to him. Although she had joined his troops ever since the beginning - ever since that bastard Hadrian had shown up with his masses of soldiers - she had never really expected to do anything worthwhile, other than kill as many of those motherless sons of whores that followed Hadrian as she could possibly manage, before wounds or exhaustion take her. And yet, here she was, talking to the Commander, with potentially game-changing information for their side. And, oh what information it was. It really paid off how she could pretty much disappear in the shadows.
"Commander. While spying in the city, I managed to overhear talk between the guards. They were being rather generous with spouting out information through boasting. After a few drinks, they'd pretty much spilled where the Prince was being kept. He's not in the prisons, like we first thought. Hadrian's keeping him in the palace – third floor." She began, beginning to regain her breathing as the adrenaline from the run died down slightly. Rozalia's legs practically screamed at her in pain, but she wasn't one to complain. Worse things could have happened to her.
"I was also able to mark down the guard patrols on the walls. The sewer entrance I used to come and go in is in a fairly deserted area – there's only four guards patrolling there, coming by every three hours; two for day, two for night. The idiots aren't even replaced for meal time." She added with a scoff, shaking her head slightly. Hadrian was being rather complacent with his win. It was as if he'd forgotten that an army led by Octavius himself lay just beyond the walls.

[Assistant]
Flaming hope glimmered in Octavius' gaze, knowing where his brother is kept. Getting inside Chalcivitas itself via the sewer tunnel which Rozalia spoke of would mean that the Chalcionese knights had to perform an infantry assault, leaving their horses aside. This would demand a greater deal of stealth and light armor, so that they would not be so easily heard. With guard positions marked, they would have a clear idea of what pattern they would use to wipe out all the Hadrianites within the city walls. Octavius was more ready than ever to show Hadrian to assert a point: his armies were far from invincible. It has been proven thus far by the resistance shown to his attacks on the southern holds and Canonfire hold, to the north. Out of his own experience, and what Rozalia has told him just now, he learned that Hadrianites are truly devoid of any honor and that they did not value freedom of expression as a sacred right of every individual, if used well.

Rising to his feet, he could see that she was struggling to stay on her feet and that she was lightly wounded while making her return to Agaroth. With sympathy, Octavius responded to her: "I thank you for the trouble you have gone through to obtain this information. When we make the move to head to Chalcivitas, you will show us the carvings, but for now, go down to the medic's tent. You need to heal those wounds."
He then looked at the guard who was standing in front of the tent and said: "Guard, help this lady to the medic's tent. She is not at her strongest now."
"As you wish, general." the guard replied, then leading Rozalia to the tent where the wounded usually received proper treatment.
Pacing around his tent, Octavius decided that it would be best to speak to Marius, the other general of Chalcion's troops, about the possible methods of freeing Chalcivitas. He exited his tent and went to find general Marius' tent. Walking inside, he greeted him by laying a fist onto the right side of his chest: "General."


[System]
Nicknames: Mecha Musume, Titanium Teeth
Villain Name: Deiselpunk
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Appearance:

One detail of NOTE. There is a bear trap permanently fused to her jaws, so she actually kind of looks like this:

Kyouran doesn't have a villain costume since her mouth is a dead give-away, and use of her quirk, more often than not, destroys whatever she is wearing.
Weapons: N/A
Hero(Villain) Equipment:Varies, usually uses whatever mechanical equipment is at hand. May bring along a grey hooded sweater to cover herself up with after a fight.
Combat Section:Kyouran fights like a thug at a bar, with long, wide, telegraphed swings and little to no finesse.
Strength:Without her quirk, Kyouran is a bit stronger than she looks, able to handily beat up 'tough-guys' as long as they aren't using any quirk that enhances their strength or defense.
Endurance:Similar to her strength, Kyouran has a history of brawling. As long as quirks aren't involved, she can take quite a few good punches.
Willpower:Kyouran loves a good challenge. She is also not very smart and does not react to threat or danger the way a sane individual should. She has an almost-heroic can-do attitude that gets her in trouble more often than not.
Speed:Kyouran is not exactly fast. She can sucker punch someone if they aren't paying attention, but otherwise, she's a pretty stationary fighter, preferring to take a hit and let the opponent close the distance.
Reaction Speed:Kyouran isn't the sharpest tool in the shed. She easily gets tunnel-visioned in combat or when focused on a short-term goal. She is quite unaware and not very self-conscious.

---

Quirk Section:

Name of Quirk: Robots in Disguise

Ability of Quirk: Fusing her body with machines.

Qualities of Quirk:Kyouran has the ability to fuse mechanical or metallic objects into her body for fifteen minutes, after which intense pain will cause her to reject the 'implant'. Her jaw is a permanent example of what happens if a mechanical piece stays attached to her body past the time limit. This quirk doesn't give her enhanced strength, only enhanced durability for whatever part of her body has been temporarily replaced with a mechanical object. She has developed the ability to harness force-generating aspects of machines such as pneumatics, hydraulics, engines, motors, servos, etc. that do enhance her strength. She is also able to meld with electronic devices, which can give her the ability to tap into radio signals or hack other machines, if only she was actually smart enough to do so. The ultimate manifestation of this ability is if she takes on more machines than the actual volume of her body. This essentially allows her the transform into a giant humanoid mech that vaguely resembles an amalgam of the machine parts used to create her robot body.
Strengths of Quirk:She can augment her already fairly strong body with machine parts or turn into a giant robot entirely, given enough volume of machinery. She can be as tough or as strong as the machines she takes up, as well as gain whatever 'abilities' the machine has, be it headlights, missile pods, loudspeakers, bluetooth, etc.
Weaknesses of Quirk:Kyouran has a time limit of fifteen minutes in which a machine can be fused to her body, after which she experiences a refractory period of ten minutes during which she cannot use her ability. Staying fused to a machine for longer than fifteen minutes causes intense pain that forces her body to 'reject' the machine and return to her normal self. If a machine stays fused to her body for longer than that, it becomes a permanent part of her body. She also 'feels' damage that her machine parts sustain. Though her sense of pain is greatly muted, severe damage can cause her enough pain to initiate a 'rejection', after which she expels whatever machines she has fused with and starts her refractory period, regardless of how much time she had spent fused with the machine.
Limits of Quirk:Kyouran is only as strong or as durable as the machinery she fuses with. Since it's impractical to carry a tank with her everywhere, she usually has to just absorb whatever is in the vicinity, making her quirk slightly unreliable. She also has a time limit to her power, albeit a fairly long time limit, but she can also be 'knocked out' of her quirk. While fusing with electronics does grant her access to a plethora of new abilities, she lacks the intelligence to take full advantage of it, preferring to literally hit like a truck in most cases.

---

Biography:Born in Yokohama to rice-farming parents, Kyouran was an only child. Living in a rural area, the children grew up in a rough-and-tumble environment, forming small rival gangs, but their upbringing stressed a sense of honor among them. Though her neighbors mostly had sons, she was able to fight her way to the top, forcing them to make her leader and call her 'older sister' (Ane).

She dreamed of becoming a hero one day after discovering her quirk when she fused with the family tractor, becoming a giant mecha from the TV shows she enjoyed. However, due to her poor intellect, her grades at the hero academy that she went to were quite poor, and she had a bad habit of belligerence, insubordination, and underage drinking. One night sealed her fate forever. A bad dare and a drunken stupor later, she woke up groggy, with a bear trap permanently fused to her face. Apparently, she had done it as a joke, but then passed out from the alcohol. Unconscious, she exceeded the time limit of her quirk. For the school, this was the last straw as the trap was visual proof of her bad behaviors and poor self-control. Not only that, she was deemed too 'scary-looking' to be a hero, and having her lips turned into big metal teeth caused her to lose her ability to speak properly.

Expelled, she felt too ashamed to go back to her parents and eventually fell in with the wrong crowd in the big city, joining a biker gang. Life on the road suited Kyouran, hitting up bars and performing petty crimes. However, she wanted more. She needed purpose. Soon she found herself taking on shady jobs as a thug, offering protection services to more organized gangs and generally being an intimidation henchman. However, throughout this entire episode of her life, she never regained her ability to speak properly, her conversations were a slobbering mess with the consonants B, F, M, P, and V being impossible for her to pronounce. One day, someone from the Dark Tree approached her with a simple, small speaker. He had seen her work and wanted to recruit her to the organization. He had heard enough about her to want to try something. It was pretty crude really, he had Kyouran fuse the speaker into her throat and then he knocked her unconscious. When she woke up, she had regained the ability to speak, albeit in a slightly tinny voice. Grateful, Kyouran also realized that she wasn't smart enough to come up with this solution herself, and that the Dark Tree would be able to use her to her full potential. She has been with the Dark Tree for three years since.
Personality:Kyouran is chummy and honorable, with all the chivalry of a typical hot-blooded Japanese punk with none of the insecure aggression. She readily makes 'bonds of brotherhood' with people who have impressed her in any way. She is a tomboy who likes to get down and dirty and believes that physical contact is integral to 'brotherly' bonding. She has a tendency to joke and just let things roll off her shoulder so it's very difficult to know when something is actually bothering her. Kyouran has poor self-control when it comes to her emotions and indulgences, preferring to live life like a firework, to experience all she can and go out in a blaze of glory. She is level-headed enough to recognize when those smarter than her have well laid-out plans for her to follow, plans that are vital to self-preservation.

---

Other:Kyouran is a heavy drinker and a boisterous drunk. Due to her unfortunate mouth situation, she eats and drinks very messily.

Theme Songs:

[User]
VERDREHTE

"I can't fuckin fly, i can only contort my body so that would not be much use because i was too far form em" He shouted back but his voice sounding sadden and frustrated, Climbing up the hole still and finally grabbing the thug's hand being lifted out of the hole. "Sorry i didn't think this would happen, I thought i was gonna get some action fighting heroes and stuff not kids" He said sighing rubbing the dirt off of his costume.

"So did you see where the kids went? Is their any villains around that are around to help us?" He asked the thug fearing that he was failing as a villain. Again he was so going to enjoy fucking up those kids that put him in that hole, And he did not want to get East or the others angry at him for failing to do his part. In his head he was trying to plan something out for what he could do next to help on the mission.

[Assistant]
Aya wasn't impressed by Mori's insult and simply rolled her eyes in response. The wolf kid then kicked up some dust obscuring himself from Aya's view, she hissed a little and took a step back, this was a dangerous situation. Giving Aya little time to react Mori burst from the dust cloud, his claws poised to strike and her chest. But this kind of foolhardy rush-down strategy was exactly what Aya was expecting, so instead of shocked expression Aya wore a smug grin. "As expected of a brute like you, rushing forward without a second thought. Like a moth to a flame."

Aya wasn't fast enough to dodge backwards out of Mori's reach but that wasn't her plan, instead she would tackle into him and get her quirk going. Doing so would mean she would only get hit with Mori's arm at worst, getting in too close for the extended arms savage looking claws. "I am very different to my compatriot Lord Zion. I am suited to taking down meat heads like yourself." Aya would then put her plan into action, throwing herself into Mori hoping that his fur wouldn't make his skin too hard to touch.

[User]
Lord Zion
& @LemonZest1337

Zion stood not incredibly far from the action between Mori and Aya. Words being exchanged falling on unfocused ears as the Lion stared somewhat blankly at the fire-villain. You see. Zion was about to head for the lazer-shooter. Yet froze when eyes landed at the palms of the fire-quirk user. Memories and visions of prior times, growing up in Africa, flashed through the lion's mind as he momentarily lost track of where he was. Shaking his head, regaining his bearings, Zion turns to narrow attention onto the dust cloud dissipating around Aya and Mori. Hopefully this didn't damage his allies too badly. Yet with Mori's likely high-level hearing. Zion had a feeling this could pack a punch for the wolf-kid.

Goal of this action was to, possibly, phase Mori long enough to give Aya the chance needed to take him down using her quirk. A bonus would be if the wannabe hero didn't manage to land an attack because of this idea. Deeply inhaling, staring into the sky, Zion performs a roar as loud as he could. Echoing through the area the loud noise boomed. Far higher in volume than any ordinarly animal could muster, at the stake of his voice. A grunt followed the Lion's action as vocal chords were heavily strained. A hand even going against his throat after performing the act.

[Assistant]
Hit by the 'Tokyo Special', Dieselpunk braced herself, widening her stance. Fortunately, she was heavy enough that the wind didn't send her flying away immediately, though she could still feel the air tugging against her. Little pops and hisses could be heard as the various fuses from the cars that she had consumed exploded from the electricity coursing through her. At least they were only non-essential, low-current fuses, like interior air or headlights. Though it was painful, the shock wasn't enough to knock her back into human form, nor was it strong enough to disable essential systems, which were mainly mechanical rather than electrical. Some of the batteries were getting strained, but it wasn't unbearable.

By widening her stance, she was making sure that she was grounding the electricity away from the most important thing beneath her, Midnight. She hoped to God that the rubble that she had serendipitously spread on the ground earlier was enough of a wind barrier that he didn't get sent flying too. But with the archer and the previously unknown wing girl revealed, Dieselpunk was sure that Midnight would disco-light the little brats out of the sky. As the 'tank', Dieselpunk was 'doing her job' by drawing fire and forcing the enemies to reveal themselves or otherwise abandon their advantageous positions so that her teammates could do some damage. Of course, that wasn't going to stop her from adding her own bit of fun into the mix. Instinctively using on arm to cover her face, she reached over with her other arm to the nearby, partially demolished building, morphed the metal plates in her hand into something of a shovel, and smashed the building. As it began to crumble, she again flung the debris into the sky towards the flyer carrying the archer. Dieselpunk was sure the girl could probably dodge it, if she wasn't carrying someone else while trying to avoid the hurricane beneath her. Or would she drop her friend a few stories down to save herself? As a hero, she probably wouldn't do the latter, so allowing both herself and him to get hit would be the dumb, but heroic thing to do.


[System]
Age (Prior):
19

Appearance (Former):
Sky stood at 5'8" on a rather average frame, considered neither skinny nor fat. She had long, curly black hair that reached down to the small of her back when straightened. Usually worn in curled pig tails or a sing pony tail. Her eyes were a deep green, usually hidden behind a pair of black glasses and turned down into the depths of a fantasy novel.

Appearance (Current):
The reinvented "Nova" stands a little taller than her original self, topping out at 5'11". Other differences include a much slender frame and much lighter hair. While the length remains the same, Skylar's dark hair turned completely white and her green eyes paled into a pair of crystal blue orbs. In addition, she also has swirled tattoos that appear when she is under great physical or emotional stress.

Race:
Elven

Personality:
Skylar has always been a bit of a dreamer, always sticking her nose into books while her mind flew through the clouds. She was never really one to get involved, lacking the confidence in her own abilities to try anything new. Forced into kindness by the troubles in her life, she has a lot of built up rage that never saw the light of day. Internally she cold, sarcastic and cynical while externally she smiled and wished everyone well. Despite having the ability to start anew, Skylar still remains a silent figure... However her demenour is much colder than she ever was at home.

Skills:
Skylar has a keen eye but an even sharper ear, making language and miscellaneous noise mimicry easy. She's also an extremely fast reader, and surprisingly enough, a decent athlete when it comes to running long distance. Other such odd skills include being able to balance three to five books(depending on size) on her head while walking.

History:
Skylar had always been an odd child, preferring to play the cops & robbers games with the boys than sit around with the girls. Bullied for her oddities from a young age, Skylar didn't grow up with many friends and by the time she hit high school she had absolutely no one to talk to. Sticking to herself, she didn't join any of the school clubs but instead spent her time at home reading books, watching movies and writing about fantastical worlds that only existed within her head. When she was old enough, Skylar got a job at a run down book store, spending most of her time reading due to a lack of customer flow. Choosing the early and late hours of the day, Skylar ran unseen through the town, jogging for hours to work off her personal frustrations rather than taking it out on the people who truly deserved it.
Living in a household with two loving parents and a pain in the butt, older brother, Skylar was the youngest and the most spoiled in the house. She adored her elder brother, following him around the house when she was younger. When he went away for college, Skylar found herself a little lost, turning to books to fill the hole that was left behind.

Other:
In an attempt to reinvent herself, Skylar has changed her name to Nova.
Nova also has a pet bird, and excells at the magical arts (once discovered).

[User]
The young priestess' eyes fluttered open in response to the shouting that came from all around her. Rae was still in a daze as she slowly sat up on the grass bed where she seemed to have fallen asleep. The grogginess of deep slumber left her, as her eyes properly adjusted to her surroundings that seemed just a little too surreal. The tall grass she was surrounded by reflected an unnatural light under the sun. Needless to say, she was in utter disbelief. She carefully scanned her surroundings and spotted three others who had woken up before her- whether there were more of them present, she couldn't tell. The vegetation had obscured most of what happened to lay close to the ground, and not only that, but it spread as far as the horizon.

The crimson grass continued to sway carelessly as the wind blew, with only her and a few other men scattered around the field, as they scoured the area for help. Rae-Ah decided to finally pick herself up, until she'd noticed a couple of things that struck her as absolutely peculiar. Standing up, she could feel a soft, feathery texture at the back of her ankles. Dark talons protruded from her nail beds instead of the well-polished keratin. Reaching a hand behind her, she grabbed a handful of fur. Examining further, she realized that the fur belonged to herself. A growth extended from her rump, in the form of a long, platinum tail. At that moment her stomach was in knots. Frustration, confusion and desperation hit her all at once. With too much to comprehend, she knelt on the unfamiliar terrain and proceeded to shove her head in her hands to relieve some of the stress and perhaps figure out what on earth was going on.

Two more unfamiliar growths of muscle covered in fur came in contact with her hands. As if Rae didn't have enough to worry about, she also knew that the body she once had was gone. She had no way of looking at her own face, but at that point she realized she probably didn't even want to. Priorities were non-existent; she didn't even know where to begin. There were much too many questions to ask, but time was running out as the sun fell closer to the horizon.

A perplexed Rae ran towards the hefty man who seemed to have been harvesting the grass; the closest out of the three. She could see the second man run towards another who was further off than the rest- perhaps they could rally together soon enough. Naturally, she didn't think being alone in this type of environment was the smartest thing.

"E-excuse me?" she called out as she ran towards him. For a moment she didn't realize that she had no questions prepared for him. There was too much for her to cycle through, so she acted on a whim. Covering her face, she continued, "Do you know exactly where we are? My name is Rae-Ah, and I live-- lived in Kijong-Dong, North Korea..."

[Assistant] was sharpening one of the spear heads when he he saw girl running towards him. Luke looked closely at the girl running towards him and noticed she was screaming something. All he got was she was Rae-Ah and she lived in North Korea. When she got closer he said in a cheerful and welcoming tone, "Well howdy there Miss Rae-Ah, names Luke, Luke Harrison. What can I do ya for?" As cheerful and upbeat as he wanted to sound he was honestly confused and not happy about his whole situation. But he had to keep a cool head. He towered over the girl but she seemed innocent enough. He tried to be as kind and approachable to this girl. Up to this point, it was the only person he had spoken too.

[User]
Marcus was pleased to hear the voice of another person in the area, but the man who it had come from didn't exactly calm him much, if at all. The tattoos patterned across his tall, muscular body made him hesitate for a moment, but the fact that it was English- clear English, no less- that let him let down his guard. maybe this simply WAS an elaborate prank, planned by his peers to cause him to freak the hell out.

That was most certainly not the case, though. In fact, it was more likely that this person, given his question, was caught in the same situation; why else would he be asking him for information?

"Nah, got no clue where the hell we are, nor when the heck we arrived here. Doesn't help that the place has absolutely zero landmarks to give us any indication of where we are." Marcus responded, walking closer to the man as more people around them seemed to making up around them. The older man, who, to Marcus, seemed to be some sort of rancher, was already at work making some sort of weapon. Through Marcus was about to ask where he obtained the shafts for the spears in the first place, the sight of the next person- if she could even be called that- caused him to check his eyes to see if they were working correctly.

"That... That is... A fox girl. Okay. I'm... Pretty sure this is some sort of joke. Gotta be, right?" he asked himself incredulously as he looked at her.
Moving animal ears. Check.
Moving fox tail. Check.
Well. Something was definitely weird here. Hopefully, he wasn't the only one seeing this; the ol' rancher-looking guy didn't seem too fazed by it at all.

[Assistant]
Well it wasn't too surprising that the other man seemed to hesitate once Adam was noticed. It wasn't too easy to tell from the distance, but he figured that he had at least a few inches over the other individual. Thankfully rather than turn away, the other man decided to approach by himself; frankly Adam wasn't sure what he would have done otherwise. "Can't say I expected much else," he muttered more to himself than anything. He might have introduced himself, but a rustling that wasn't simply just the light breeze made him turn around.

It'd been hard to see with the grasses' height and his own lack of attention, but there were a few others besides the two of them. 'The hell?' Given there was jack shit but grass as far as his eyes could see, it was somewhat of a surprise that an older man had somehow managed to scrounge up the wood to make spears. Beyond that was the corpse next to him and Adam's eyebrow rose questioningly. Did these things just drop out of the sky conveniently for them?

Naturally his attention shifted towards the latest person to approach and his previous questions were pushed aside as he took in her appearance. "Oh yeah… that's definitely a fox girl," he replied as he dug his fingers into his palm and blinked furiously. Pain aside, the girl's tail continued to sway side to side and hell even her ears twitched occasionally. "Ok, whatever I can roll with this." Hands thrown up as if giving up on trying to make sense of this world, Adam let them drop almost immediately afterwards with a heavy sigh. Between the three others here, he gave a small wave and briefly introduced himself with, "Name's Adam."

For now he'd make sure there wasn't anyone else still fast asleep in the sea of grass that surrounded the group of four. Taking note of where Marcus and Rae had run from, he marked those bearings as clear for the moment. Which, really, still left him with most of the circle to search. An annoyed click of the tongue aside, Adam stood to his full height and slowly began to walk forward away from the three, eyes scanning for any breaks amongst the sea of red and white that might have indicated a body.

[User] Luke looked around and noticed some other people up and looking his way. He tried to wave them over in a friendly way. He wanted to get a group together so that he could have company. He didn't like being alone. After he waved he looked down at the deer, he started to start cutting. Someones got to do it. It's a mighty gross job but if he is going to feed himself and now all these people, this deer has to be emptied out. When he opened up the deer his face cringed because the smell was so putrid but he kept going. He knew this was the only way. That he could think of. Blood was splashing all over his arms and shirt.

[Assistant]
Skylar sighed contently as she lay in a bed of soft grass, not bothering to open her eyes. It was comfortable, the most comfortable she had felt in a very long time. The world around her was relatively quiet, the only voice belonging to the wind brushing through the grass she lay in. Without opening her eyes, Sky could tell that a grass around her grew to a decent height, towering above her current lounging position. Movement nearby caught her attention, the grunts and moans of a person struggling to wake-up, increasing in numbers as more and more people registered their surroundings. "I guess this isn't a dream after all." She mumbled to herself, the increasing noise from voices disappointing her slightly. Sitting up, Skylar finally opened her eyes, taking in the bizarre sights. Crimson colored grass as far as the eye could see, people standing around her that didn't quite look like normal people. "What is going on?" She asked out loud to no one in particular.

Looking down at herself Skylar took in the strange outfit, obviously made of materials no longer used in the modern world. "Cool." She nodded her satisfaction, jumping a little as something white fell into her vision. Sitting in shock for a few moments, Skylar reached her hand up to touch the silky white strands, discovering that they were indeed a part of her own head. "Okay, white hair... I can deal with this. Odd clothing... A little creepy that I don't know who changed me but bearable." Closing her gaping mouth, Skylar scanned the area around her, slightly impressed by how clear everything looked to her... Certainly her vision had improved, as well as her hearing. She could have sworn the others sounded closer, but when she looked around, they were a fair distance away from her. Despite the odd appearances of a few others in the plain, as far as Sky could tell everything looked real. It certainly felt real and that was enough to bring a smile to the girl's face. Pushing herself to her feet, Skylar swayed slightly, unused to standing at such a height. "New hair, new clothes, new height... Guess I shouldn't be all that surprised." Slowly Skylar raised her hands to her face, gently brushing them over her skin to get a feel for her new appearance. Her face didn't feel too different, perhaps the bone structure was a little sharper, more defined than she remembered but nothing too inhuman. Next they ran through her hair, happy to find it to be the same length as she was used to. What caught her attention, however, was a large bulge around the side of her hair. Pulling all her hair to one side, Skylar investigated the side of her head nervously, almost jumping out of her skin when she reached her ear. Of all the things, her ear stood out the most to her. They felt thinner, longer than the average human ear. A realization dawning on her. "I-I'm an elf? She breathed excitedly, doing her best not to dance around with joy.

It was clear from the movements of the others that they weren't quite as excited as she was. More confused if anything and maybe a little frightened. Her excitement might be taken the wrong way if she expressed it. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Skylar removed her facial expressions and replaced them with an indifferent, calculating look. She had never worn it before but somehow it felt right on her, as if this new existence was exactly what she needed. This is an amazing opportunity. A new look means I can be a whole new me. No more shy, nice girl. You are an elf, a regal creature to be respected. Sky thought definitively, even considering a change in name to accompany her "transformation".


[System]
Age: 26
Appearance:
Personality: Aiduiin has a very high and mighty, holier-than-thou personality. He believes himself the walking definition of perfection, and his station in life has done nothing but enforced this belief. Is biggest pleasure comes from the control he has over others, and resistance is the bane of his existences.

[User]
It wasn't any surprise that the lights had awoken the creature that rested inside. Neither was the dramatic reaction that she displayed. To his right Ecaeris smirked as the being flailed around trying to resist the force the pulled her ever closer to entering the ship. A look of sick pleasure had plastered itself to her face. Aiduiin tried to share in her joy, knowing that he should having captured a specimen with such ease. Still, he couldn't find the whole ordeal to be anything more than lack-lustre. Despite this he continued to watch as the woman drew nearer to the cargo entrance until, eventually, he heard the hum of gears as the hatch closed beneath its newest shipment. Knowing that his captive was securely within the ship, Aiduiin sauntered from the console and back down the halls.

He was in no great hurry, and so, took his time to the hold. About halfway down the stretch there was a sharp jolt that caused him to use the wall for support. Turning to peer through a nearby window he saw the cause. Faster than the eyes could properly take in, mountains rushed by as the ship hurtled itself from the atmosphere. Why his sister opted for such a hasty retreat, Aiduiin could only wonder. It did however cause his mind to wander, as it so often did. This time to pitiful creature stuck in the cargo hold. Unlike where he stood, the cargo had very limited stabilisation. Most shipments, seeing as they weren't living, would be tied or bolted down. He doubted that the handlers would have done so to a person. If he had lost balance, he could only imagine the force felt down below.

Pushing his thoughts away he ventured further through the ship, stopping at the medical ward.

"Rhistel, is your team ready?" Aiduiin didn't wait for them to notice him, or announced his arrival. He just spoke. And though it took a moment, the doctor did turn to him a smile stuck to his face. Giving a curt bow before replying.

"Of course, ch'Tadous." Still smiling, almost unnervingly so, he turned to his staff and barked out instructions. Within minutes they had gathered, tools in hand. From restraints to needles. There was no denying that come what may, they were prepared. Leading the group Aiduiin finished his trek through the hall, until he reached the elevator to the cargo bay. Just before entering however he stopped and pushed the medical staff in front. In case this specimen was hostile, he preferred to have some obstacles between her and him.

Once they reached the bay the automatic door opened, revealing the girl standing in the center. Without a moment's hesitation the group launched towards her. Together they wasted no time in restraining her as Rhistel readied the sedative. From the doorway Aiduiin stood and watched, only approaching once the drug was administered and the woman began to drift off. He came in closer to get a proper look at her features, briefly wondering if she could see him through her now hazed vision. Grabbing a hold of her dainty chin he moved her to and fro, becoming familiar with her features. Most remarkably was the lightness in her eyes, to which Aiduiin couldn't help but stare at until they closed. With his curiosity sated he handed her off to the medics who, after strapping her to the gurney, sped back to the ward.

---

Several hours later, at the urging of his parents and sister, Aiduiin found himself seated in the corner of the woman's room waiting for her to awaken. More than once he had questioned if the dosage had been too for her small frame. He had also remarked on how her form was so like, and unlike, that of the Knurrians. From his father's warnings, he had expected to be wedding a monstrous beast. Which she was clearly not. Admittedly many aspects of her appearance were odd, they were not unpleasant to look upon.

Mostly during his wait though he stayed in the corner, curled up with a book. Just as he was when he heard the telltale stirring come from her bed. Slowly he looked over to where she lay,

"Good Morning," His tone was entirely neutral with neither animosity nor amity held within it. He wanted to make it clear that this was all just a formality. Though it wasn't entirely lost on him that she mightn't have clue to what he was saying. During his studies he had learned that 716 contained many, many languages and could only hope that he had chosen the right one to learn.

[Assistant]
Jaq managed a scream half way up and the sound did little to ease away the way there seemed an attraction to every part of her body. So when she was drawn through a large hole and deposited somewhat roughly against the …

Not an idiot and just because something was unlikely, didn't make it impossible. Highly improbable, no doubt, but never impossible. And if there was metal under her knees where she knelt, boneless, then someone had put it there. She sucked in breath, coughing past the pain in her throat, then looked around her.

The room was cavernous. Large, storage tanks sat against walls and stacked upon one another, tethered with some manner of thickened rope. Not military issue then. It was silly to think "military" just because she'd been sucked into a room in the sky, but she wasn't ready for what else could be doing the same thing. At that point of time, the probability index got so large and open-ended that anything was possible and she wasn't ready to deal with time travel, aliens, or heaven being a warehouse like space with what had been a very direct beam of light as an elevator.

Her body wracked with another choking cough, almost fell and she planted her hands down, one hand coming down on her magnum. She hadn't lost it. She laughed, lost a bit, then reached for it. If nothing else, she could make some damage for whomever thought it was a good idea to nab her.

Fingers closing around the gun, suddenly the entire floor juddered underneath her and a force, very similar to thrust (who was she kidding? She'd been flying long enough to know thrust – only she hadn't flown jet planes and this was less like her old Cessna and a bit more like a F-13 press), threw her headlong, skittering down the floor. Everything inclined (ascent, then) and she scrabbled at the smooth flooring, losing the gun, and tumbling hard into one of the large crates. Her head hit the side of the container hard and she held tightly to the rope (smooth, thin, like silk almost) as the entire warehouse (c'mon, you can call it a ship) inclined and then put on an extra burst of speed.

There was a knock through the entire space, like atmospheric interference, and then the ride smoothed out. She knew, intellectually, that they had to be going fast or there would have been some deceleration forces to contend with but she'd never thought anything could be so fast without some interaction with the air.

Unless they weren't in air any more.

Her head hurt. And the air smelled funny. She coughed again, pulled herself to her feet, and wobbled across the floor just as a door opened opposite of her.

Frozen at the sight before her, her mind spinning to wonder where in hell her gun had flown, she stared at the... They were strange, alien. With a burst of panic, she turned and bolted back toward where she'd been thrown. She had to find her weapon.

It wasn't like she'd learn any time soon, but it seemed to her that she might have thought of the whole resistance is futile bollocks when she'd been pulled in by their tractor beam. Still, she had to try and she knew the foregone conclusion of something sharp pricking the back of her shoulder was going to take her down. They were fast, too. Faster than she was. She was concussed and couldn't breathe from all the panic and they – well, they were weird alien thingies with alien technology. When she hit the ground, her cheek bloomed into pain and she rolled to one side, pushed weakly at hands that grasped her arms, and then went dark.

Nothing of the panic and all of the pain in cheek and head and back were present when she woke, however. Jaq reached up to touch her forehead. She blinked and instead of the usual white of a hospital room, she saw muted colors and rounded corners. She frowned. "How bad?" she groaned out around the musty feeling of her mouth. How bad had the crash been?

"Good morning," an unfamiliar voice with a strange accent intoned.

Turning her head toward the sound, she blinked and then rubbed her eyes. "Sorry, morning. My eyes are acting funny. What drugs you guys got me on?"

It didn't matter if she rubbed her eyes again or not. It was worth a try and she found it failed as miserably as the first time. A man sat there, undoubtedly a man. But he wasn't really a man. He looked like a Trekkie cos-player from her brother's geeky friends' facebook accounts. Only, there was something painfully different.

She'd been told they used color tints in movies to help the computer generated images work more smoothly with the real things around them, so that the eye saw movies from a distance, the colors not quite right. Maybe the tint, then, was wrong. This man looked decidedly orange and very much real, down to a slight twitch on his cheek under, was that scaling?

"My plane?" she grasped onto her first supposition that she'd been in a bad crash and fought to quell the sudden wash of bad memory from that awful dream. "Where's Papa Owen? How is my plane?" Her head hurt and she wasn't sure she could sit up, considering she was seeing things across the way.


[System]
Race: Human

Gender: Male

Age: 25

Background: Killjoy's past is a closely held secret that no one knows, not even those who've known him since he started his career seven years ago. One thing's for sure though, he's one damn effective gun-for-hire. He's known best for his record of more than 200 confirmed kills, something he shows proudly with the tally-marks on his armor, and of completing every contract ever assigned to him. His last contract got him indebted to Starfire Company causing him to have to work off the debt. He eagerly awaits for his ten-year contract to end so he can go back to working solo.

Personality: Killjoy's arrogant, but he's got a pretty good reason for it. There's no mistaking that he's one of the best at his job and that job is making sure his target is going six feet under. He isn't completely without morals though, refusing to do any job that involves slavery or the murder of innocents. He's also a bit of a pessimist, but he claims that that's only because he wants to be prepared for the worst.

Gear:
- Two .45 Caliber Handguns
- One Machete
- Various lethal and non-lethal hand grenades
- Body armor that can stop most non-sustained small arms fire
- Helmet with tactical display

Personal Ship:

The V-17 Cobra Dropship is a re-purposed troop carrier meant to quickly transport up to twelve. Killshot's since customized it for deep space travel, more maneuverability, and more firepower. There's also a small armory inside where he keeps his various weaponry (including assault rifles, sniper rifles, rocket launchers, etc.) for missions that may require something more than his handguns can handle. It's no bigger than a Black Hawk Helicopter of the 21st century.

[User]
Eight of Twelve - Aurora, Regeneration Alcove
Regeneration Cycle complete. All systems functioning within acceptable perimeters. Biological and Technological component sync complete.

Eight opened his eyes as the on board computer of the Aurora terminated his regeneration cycle. Because of his accident on the Pegasus station, the accident that had fused his higher brain functions with that of a computer and several of his limbs with cybernetic implants Eight no longer required sleep as it was thought of by most humanoid life. Instead Eight had constructed a special alcove on his ship which when activated put his body into a form of stasis while the computer realigned his implants with his organics.

He could go up to seventy two hours without it but to maintain peak efficiency he needed to regenerate for six hours every twenty four. His cycle complete Eight disabled his alcove on the Aurora. He did of course have his own Starfire quarters on the ship but given that he would have to build another of these chambers inside for it to be any use to him at all the quarters remained vacant.

Eight opened the doors from his craft's sickbay to the main bridge, which was in fact a small room with two chairs in front of piloting consoles that controlled the various systems of the ship. Behind the two consoles was a sealed tube big enough for one person to stand in. Because of Eight's unique cyborg physiology he could use this chamber to interact directly with the ships computer and use his own brain as the flight systems. However that was for long voyages or confrontations in which the ships computer could not adequately compensate for variables that Eight's brain could calculate.

At the moment the cyborg was simply running routine diagnostic and maintenance on his systems. The Aurora was a sleek black ship and one of a kind. When Eight had first started on her the Aurora had been the wreck of a long range tactical bomber. While it still bore definite resemblance to the original model almost all the systems had been rebuilt from scratch by Eight with whatever he could get his hands on. As a result the Aurora was completely unique in the galaxy.

Satisfied that his ship was running at peak efficiency. Eight was preparing to leave when a notice appeared on his console screen alerting him to the fact that Starfire had three new contracts that were being tasked out to this unit. Eight had no feelings one way or another about the contracts themselves however the probability of success, the compensation expected and the likely hood of casualties indicated that protecting the Babylon IV would grant the crew the highest monetary gain for the lowest risk assuming no anomalous components made themselves known.

Eight left the ship after presenting that as his preferred assignment. The contracts themselves also meant very little to Eight, the money was useful of course but the real reason Eight was here was to make use of Starfire's vast influence and resources, there was someone in the galaxy waiting for him. He just needed to find her.

Eight sealed the Aurora and scrambled the entrance command with a intuitive resequencer so that it could only be opened either by his biomechanical signature or a very skilled hacker. Eight didn't trust anyone, and so kept anything of value out of reach of anyone else.

Eight was always awake early because he only required six hours of regeneration compared to the rest of the crew's more demanding sleep schedules. Despite the early hour a good portion of the crew seemed to already be awake and inhabiting the ship's galley. Because Eight required nutritional supplements to maintain his organic systems this was where he was required to go.

When Eight opened the door several heads glanced in his direction and then quickly away. Eight had always got the impression that he unnerved the rest of the crew. Perhaps it was the precise way he spoke or the remains of the ocular implant curved around his eye socket and diode embedded next to his right ear. It may even have been that of most of the crew he was one of the few that didn't wear any sort of protective armaments. Whatever it was it wasn't important to Eight.

He crossed the room to a food station. A scan of the coffee machine by Eight's ocular implant revealed that several of the regulator coils in the back were out of sync. Eight had fixed this problem twice in the last week. The logical conclusion would be to have the device either replaced or rebuilt. Eight turned to the food replicator the station was equipped with. Eight had design schematics for luxury cruisers that had replicators which were capable of creating the most exotic dishes in the known galaxy. This was not one of those replicators. The more complex the meal created the more power the replicator required and the more precisely it had to be designed. This unit appeared to be cobbled together from spare parts and as a result only produced the most basic food supplements. It could do gruel and some simple food in the a pinch but Eight wasn't interested in that.

"Nutritional supplement 46 Beta." He said to the system and it materialized a bowl of small green square objects a quarter of an inch on both sides. They had almost no taste but provided the most efficient form of nutrient assimilation into the body. He'd designed these specific for his physiology.

He took a seat at a table which had another occupant. This didn't bother Eight at all. The one sitting across from him was female, she was on the smaller side with blue hair. Interestingly enough her hair branched up into an extra set of ears. Eight scanned her up and down with his ocular implant. He wasn't exactly an expert on biological lifeforms the same as he was with machines so most of the data he receive made no sense to him. He deleted a good portion of it deeming it unnecessary, only retaining an imagine of her appearance for the sake of recognizing her and a note of the evident differences between her and other humans he'd come into contact with.

When his scan was complete he looked at her with unblinking storm grey eyes and said. "You appear to be a form of mutant. Please elaborate."

[Assistant]
Johanna gave John a nod, picking up her datapad and looking over the choices again. After about a minute of debating the pros and cons in her mind she finally decided to choose the second option, the escort mission. She figured the mission's rewards were on par with the risk in involved. The siege mission was a suicide attempt and not worth dying for, and the guard mission, well that just wouldn't pay enough to be worth their time, especially if they got into a gunfight.

Johanna thought that maybe not the group slowly assembling around the galley would start having conversation with each other, she liked to listen to other people talk. She didn't mind when other people were around, she just became really uncomfortable when people spoke to her directly, or god forbid being the center of everyone's attention.

She should have know better though, she was cursed with an appearance that automatically drew attention to her, at least from other humans. Other species hardly noticed the difference, but among her own kind she stood out like a sore thumb. It wasn't long before someone decided to sit at the same table as her. She briefly had the urge to get up and find a different table, but she didn't want to be seen as rude. Instead she looked the boy over, immediately noticing he wasn't entirely human himself, he appeared to have some mechanical implants.

The cyborg suddenly spoke, "You appear to be a form of mutant. Please elaborate." It caught her off guard, people usually weren't so blunt or direct about asking why she was different. He spoke with a precision that reminded her of an artificial intelligence. He wasn't like other humans either, he was different. They had that in common at the very least.

She realised she'd simply been gawking at him in silence for the past minute. With a blush she snapped out of her daze, she decided she had no choice but to answer his question, she reasoned it was better to get it over with now then put it off till later, she had a sick feeling though this wouldn't be the last time she'd have to do this.

"Well I...I was kidnapped and experimented on at a research facility that had been hidden inside an asteroid. I woke up in this strange cell, and that's when it began. Whoever they were, they never spoke to me, or revealed themselves. I don't think I was worthy of their attention...they simply began the...experiments." She couldn't help but shudder.

"I was unconscious for a lot of it. But sometimes when I was awake these mechanical arms would come down and inject me with strange substances, they made me feel sick. Sometimes they'd gas the room too. After what I think was weeks I sort of got used to it. Whatever they were doing...it made me stronger, faster...they were enhancing me for some unknown purpose. After a while the more...obvious changes appeared." She gestured to her ears and tail.

"My hair and eyes changed as well, but I didn't notice those as easily. Whatever they did it changed me down to my DNA. I-I'm not really sure I can even be considered human anymore, at least not entirely...it's like they wanted to create a new...species." She looked down at her coffee mug. "Starfire raided the research facility and rescued me and some others who were held there, and that's how I ended up here more or less." She took a long sip of her coffee, she needed to calm her nerves.

[User]
Space, the void between worlds.
The ancients may have foresaw this very age.
Where the planes were brought together.
The cosmos united as one world.
And there they would divide up the heavens.
Casting lots and waging wars.
The Skies, Seas and Underground.

Just outside of the cabin, past the precipice of metal and technology, was infinity. A view into the depths of the universe, onwards to the ends of visibility as far as the light could reach. Looking into the past as you journey into the future, a strange paradox, but the FTL drives had made the universe a much smaller place as the distant galaxies were suddenly neighbors. Beings suddenly awakened from their fugue state, contact made, species eradicated and information exchanged. Evolution took them far enough to becoming the dominant species on their own planets, now Revolutions shall see which alien race will control the universe. But certainly not these. For just outside the view of eternity, the bodies floated amongst the wreckage. Neither as countless as the stars, nor as a beautiful, but in the same swallowing void all the same. There they drifted past, cold and lifeless, expended.

In stark contrast to the grim and somber tragic waste of life, there was another which died upon this very vessel and caused great upheavals. The Coffee machine. To which someone was cursing at it and tinkering with it to produce some black liquid of some nutritional value for these organics. Was this black fluid so important to them? Could they not function without it? Such strange creatures who consume not what they need to survive, but need to perform. But who was Cy to judge them, he was made with everything he required to survive, an electrical yolk which would be consumed every moment of his existence. And when it was no more, he too would return to the universe and become like these organics nothing more than a victim of the void. One day this crew would join those floating outside, but today the coffee machine shall join them first, jettisoned in the lock as rubbish.

Looking around, they were an odd bunch. A human, an alien, and more humans or rather perhaps mostly humans. One asked of how the rest of them fared in these early moments, seemingly just woken from a deep slumber. Yet again Cy had no responses for this as the Valis do not sleep, nor eat, nor reproduce. Lacking a true biology, the physical needs for the cosmic energy being was simple: Energy. To infuse his core with additional electricity was to extend his existence from which he has maintained a stable working agreement with the Company. The extreme amounts of energy required to survive another hundred cycles was ludicrous and as such mercenary work footed the bill and kept the lights on at home. Both figuratively and literally.

Speaking of which, the assignments made their announcements known as the Valis continued to watch the organics in their affairs. He had gone unnoticed so far, sitting alone at the table, watching the celestial bodies move. A silent sentry who spoke as little as four words every few hours of the day. Actions however, spoke louder than words, and as such, Cy cast his vote for the second mission.

[Assistant]
John looked around the galley as more and more people arrived and made their presences known. Great. People. I hate people. Nine times out of ten, they start shooting at you as soon as they've got the chance. And I can't shoot these guys because I'm supposed to be working with them. When one of his new cyborg compatriots walked into the room to greet everyone, the mercenary replied with a short groan, acknowledging Valian's question but not putting in the effort to give a real response, which in itself sort of answered the question.

Having nothing else to do, John took a look at the datapad on his wrist to see if there had been a decision on which mission the team would do. He was a bit surprised at the outcome. Out of the nine people on the ship, seven had voted for the same mission. The one I picked at random must have been the escort mission as well. Two more people have yet to vote, but it doesn't really matter what they pick now does it? He took another sip from his coffee, only to find that he had finished it on his last sip. Just the start to another bad day. Escort missions always suck. At least Yamikov-Fujikawa ships are never armed, we don't want some gung-ho captain trying to help, only to get himself killed instead. The mercenary checked his datapad one last time to see what they're estimated time of arrival would be. One hour before we reach orbit, huh? Great, plenty of time for someone to try and annoy me further.


[System]
Identity
Age: Unknown (Appears mid-40's)

Height: 5ft 10"

Weight: 78kg

Physical Description: Ariad seems human at a glance, with short black hair and a black beard, both sprinkled with grey. His eyes are red-rimmed and somewhat sunken, but otherwise normal and brown in colouration. His other features aren't in anyway strange or unusual, and his general appearance is one that most would consider unremarkable. However, none of this can usually be seen beneath his white face-mask. With a build edging between average and athletic, he fits in well in any human crowd.

Psychological Description: Ariad feels a bitter-sweet melancholy at all times, and strange things can cause him to be overcome with grief, shedding tears unusually, especially over the bodies of those he has harmed.

Tier: 3-4

Powers/Abilities/Skills: Ariad is only gifted with one major power, which unsurprisingly taps into the emotions of his opponent's. Unlike what one may expect, they are not driven to depression or even sadness necessarily, but rather they feel a heightening of whatever emotional responses are most common for them (or whatever emotions can be tripped by events which unfold). This ability has only ever proven completely ineffective against foes which literally have no biological capacity to feel, primarily robots. Humans with psychological conditions have actually proven to be effected, often more strongly, due to an influx of chemical responses they're wholly unused to forcing them to feel for often the first time.

However, even in circumstances where he is unable to gain a major advantage from the emotional unbalancing of an opponent, Ariad is still gifted with a number of combat related skills.

His strength is pushed beyond the peak of a human being, though far from immense he can lift about 800kg with effort, still allowing him to lift and throw the average human with just one hand.

His agility and speed are his biggest advantages, owing to his lithe build, he can run at 60mph and dodge the melee attacks of any human on the planet on reflex alone. Though he reacts at thrice the speed of any human, he is not fast enough to see and then dodge a bullet, but certainly an arrow or other slightly slower moving projectile.

His skill-set is one that allows him to carry out pretty close to any physical feet any human being can carry out, with the added benefits of his above human abilities. Expect any forms of acrobatics, and the ability to launch any melee attack he so chooses with his body in the most efficient and powerful way possible. This is not a complete knowledge of every human martial art, but the ability to perform movements he decides upon effectively, by using his superhuman attributes.

His durability has never been a strong point for Ariad, known to become badly wounded by even a few rounds of an ordinary pistol. He accommodates for this by trying not to get shot or hit by anything hard enough to outright kill him.

Ariad has been shown to heal incredibly quickly provided he can escape a fight without being killed outright. When fighting however his strange power has to concentrate on the unbalancing of other's emotions, so he has no ability to heal in battle.

Ariad is not known to eat or drink, though he can still be effected by chemicals their effectiveness is fairly limited. He does still seem to be dependent upon air to breath however.

Equipment

The Weeping Blade (The Weeper)

A seemingly ordinary steel gladius (short-sword) of average length and diameter. Seems painted with red specks along both edges from the point till half-way to the hilt.

It's physically incredibly difficult to break or dull, and can be repaired by Ariad in some fashion he is unwilling to disclose. Unlike an ordinary steel sword its edge is sharp enough to sheer through steel plate and flesh with only the force of an ordinary man behind it. Ariad can –easily- cut through a brick without damaging the blade, making it a formidable and deadly weapon even to armoured opponents. Other than its sharpness and durability it has no other combat-applicable powers.

The Weeper, or The Weeping Blade, has a long and terrible history. Legend says it was once an ordinary sword, before it was plunged into the breast of a noblewoman either by her own hand or by her most loyal servant, none are sure. Most agree that the blade was cursed by a wrathful god, whose play-thing escaped his torment with its strike, ensuring that it would bring sadness to so many as to satisfy his hunger. That has yet to be done.

Flintlock pistol, four extra shots worth of additional mats.

Ordinary clothing/apparel.

A white face mask, seemingly made in operatic style (think phantom of the opera) made to display sadness.

History: Ariad, or the Weeper as he is known, is presumed to belong to a long line of cursed souls forced to wield the ancient blade of sorrow. Shedding the lives of innocents where the bitterest sadness will follow. It is a terrible life, but one in which he is inexplicably bound, many know the reputation of the weeper, but most only see the white mask of pain.

[User]
With a flourish of characteristic drama, the Weeper ripped the cloak from his shoulders with his free left hand just in time to drape it before him. The motion was practiced and quick beyond belief, the surprisingly tough fabric forming a barrier for the knife that allowed him, not unlike a matador, to turn his body from the threat. If not for the strange acceleration of the object he would have likely relied upon the fabric alone, instead, his body turned anti-clockwise and the knife pierced fabric and clattered to the ground behind him, leaving him unscathed. The second would have been caught in the same act, but a quick glance had told him it was not on target, and he was eager to be on. So very eager.

"Halt your progress?" He asked, simultaneous to his cloak fluttering to the ground rather breezily. His masked face fixed her, watching her as his left hand was obscured by the cloak, his right pointed the sword towards her in a common act of stage-craft. Time passed in a bubble of sorts as the cloak fell and the Weeper moved, the speed of his actions beyond that of a human, but not beyond the super-human perception of the Allomancer. All the better, she would see what he was capable of. Then she would know to fear him all the more.

The velvet cloak draped to the ground, leaving the Weeper in his off-white ruffled shirt. More importantly however, it also revealed the click of the hammer dropping on his pistol, as he fired it from the hip. As luck would have it, the powder ignited first time, the sudden crack of the explosion startling, though the Weeper was unperturbed. He had shot the deadly metal ball across the front of his own body, showing remarkable courage considering the unreliability of such a weapon. The projectile flew true, hurtling through the air towards the Allomancer's right hip.

"I suppose I mean to do just that."

The weapon was back in its holster almost as quickly as it had appeared, and the Weeper was moving. Advancing on the girl, giving her small chance to recover from the sudden assault by projectile, his sword was hungry. Twenty feet stood between them, but for how long?

[Assistant]
Her eyes caught the flamboyant scene with a sense of awe. The movements were well practiced an with such grace she had to appreciate the display. The first of her daggers clattering not a foot or two behind him the second to his right side about three feet off target, putting up a few desperate sparks before rolling to a stop.

The fabric dropped to ground in a near slow monition style as audible click of metal was heard. She had only a moment to allow her eyes to dart down to his other hand a weapon! Her eyes went wide as a deafening -CRACK- tore into her eardrum like a company of drummers on either side of her head struck in unison. She tensed unintentionally as a streak of blue came speeding towards her!

Should couldn't dodge this attack, her head still splitting from the explosion of the shot. She did what any coin shot would. Faring the steel in her stomach the heat increased in her stomach, the metal burning at a frenzied rate and pushed forward at the projectile. Her full weight multiplied by the expended metal slowed it, but the weapon had stopping power and she wasn't focused.

Pain erupted from her side as she let out an audible cry. The metal ball lodging its self slight upward from its intend target, making its way through the leather armor with little effort. Balling her fists she extinguished the Tin and was rewarded with a slight drop in feeling. Her legs wobble adjusting to the new numbness as she heard his threat.

He wanted to kill her.

The masked maniac was moving closer. She had to respond, before he attacked again. She ended the tap on her steel, nearly gone from the burst. Resolve flooded her as the pain in her side pulsed, she reverted back to her training. Find the Pewter in her stomach she mustered a grim smirk as she lit it aflame.

Should he notice her stance altered, her natural balance altering to the pinnacle of her being. Her muscles screamed with unused power, begging to be used as the slight fatigue of her travel washed away like dirt amid a thunderous downpour. Little could he see the healing that started to take place. She was no Steel Inquisitor, but Pewter could turn mortal wounds non-fatal. Refusing to allow the fear digging at the back of her mind purchase she instead flung herself forward in an eight foot leap that she normally would have had not business being capable of, much less with a wound.

"I am a survivor.." she muttered, almost more to herself than the masked man in the air.

Landing in a moment's notice she withdrew her hand. Her right hand opened as she flared the remaining steel in her stomach. As result a fist full of sharpened coins launched out like improvised grape shot with intents of tearing into the man like a ship's main mast. With the steel now gone she now had only iron, tin, and pewter in her system. At the same time she focused on the weapon that had harmed her with laser focus. Reaching out to its "metal line" she pulled with a vengeance, not so much as to destroy it, but pull with all her weight and some to throw of his gaunt. He might find that dodging with an additional one hundred and sixty pound to be troublesome as the coins shot forward.

Keeping her left hand in its pouch she watched on.

[User]
It was time for the harvest. The Weeper did relish it so when the unfortunates came to him.

Twenty feet separated the two as the masked swordsman had finished shooting and made his approach. Twenty feet was a pittance of distance to the Weeper, his stride was not so great, but he moved with an unnatural speed that belied that of a predatory cat. His measure was not so impressive with a short-sword in hand, but he would be upon her as she landed, darting leftward on his left foot with his left arm covering his body and face. He naturally stooped as he sent the Weeping blade plunging forward hungrily for her flesh just as her feet touched the ground. An ideal time to strike, in truth, for her options for evasion were terribly limited by her own airborne manoeuvre. She could even be carried into the point of his sword by her own momentum, which struck for her right shoulder.

He had expected some other form of long range assault from the girl, she had shown an aptitude for it already. However in truth had he not been upon her his options would have been limited for dealing with the coins. Fortunately, his blade would serve in that regard. She could not easily commit to throwing those objects at him if she wished to avoid feeling the blade of misery cut a neat path through her shoulder. If the point of his blade did not serve as sufficient obstacle to the launching of the coins, he would taste pain himself. Perhaps enough to stop him onslaught for the time being.

[Assistant]
"Foolish, never let your foe catch you in the air!" Clubs words ringed in her head, as a quick memory of that terrible hunk of wood swatting her in the chest.

The maniac was fast. Perhaps not a Pewter-arm, but damned quick. She hadn't anticipated such quick movements with that blade in his hand. They were on a collision course and she had coins, where he had a rather long and sharp looking blade. Her steel couldn't push the blade away, not with the small amount she had left.

Touchdown.

He was upon her, the blade ready to take her in the shoulder. What sweet hell did that blade contain to be able to resist allomancy? Doing the only option with her limited supply of metals, she instead diverted one coin downward into the ground let the others remain on their course, sharpened sides ready to dig into whatever presented itself in their path. Once the coin hit the ground with a ping it was no longer her body weight pushing on the coin, now it the world pushing against her. She kept the burn going until the steel was used up, sending her upward at an angle as she pushed off with pewter powered legs.

The blade was too close she knew it would strike, but now maybe she wouldn't be run through. Instead a long slice among her side or leg might be the result. Hand darting back the withdrew yet another vial and gulped it down before letting the glass tube drop. He prepared for the pain to tear into her once more, hoping that the blade didn't have a paralytic effect should she drop to the ground form her steel jump like a stack of bricks.