[System]
Age: 29

Gender/Race: Male Fäldkrest

Role: External Conflict Resolver

Bio: Vanius hails from a small, ever moving village that has no name.He often lead the hunting parties after his father died. When he was 27 he was attacked after straying away from the party, the massive beast leaving Vanius with a mangled hand and shredded wings (not that they were ever that big to begin with). Despite this, he managed to drive his spear into the beast's soft underbelly and draged the beast back to his hunting party.Upon returning to his village his mother forced him to go to Isilum and seek medical treatment. He is currently serving on an airship in order to pay the debt that accumulated to the order in saving his hand and giving him the ability to glide again (explained later). Vanius was shocked when the doctors wouldn't accept gratitude and 3 goats as payment.

Personality: Adventurous, Proud, Highly aggressive, yet oddly smooth where other men would be rough, and hella naive.

Equipment: -Lightweight leather armor
-Longsword
-small obsidean kukri

This is just his basic equipment I guess, he has other things for more specialized gear when it's needed but nothing too spectacular, just simple things and a set of metal armor.

Skills: Great sword fighter, natural leader (although he shys away from leading the more civilized when there are better candidates)

Optional: Spends time with Craig Masters when not on duty.

Appearance: A tall, muscular specimen with dark red scales with light orange spots in some places. His left hand is a heavily scarred. Unlike other Faldkrests he has an odd glider like device on his back due to the injuries sustained when he was younger, but this performs slightly worse, if not on par with most other Faldkrest wings, when gliding.

[User]
Vanius walked towards the docks, the backpack he had been given chaffing his shoulders. The city was exploding with activity, which only distracted Vanius more. The docks were even more crowded than the street he just came from, making Vanius nervous and panicked. After breaking through the crowd he managed to get a break, and sat at a small park bench for a few minutes.

He took out a long, dark brown cigar and ran it under his nose before lighting it. "This may be the last cigar I ever enjoy" he thought before taking a deep puff. He sincerely doubted they'd let him smoke on the ship, and he might die on the ground before he got another smoke break. The duffle bag he'd been given had been making Vanius' shoulders ache, and he wanted to just leave it sitting on the ground. Maybe leave everything on the ground and just run back to his Tribe. Put the whole damn world behind him and go back to a simple life.

He laughed and shook the thought out of his head.

[Assistant]
A man hurried through the crowd that surrounded the Tychon, the Order's newest airship. He was only twenty eight but despite his relative youth his hair was white and he had a way of walking with his head down in an incredibly hurry that often led people to believe he was a much older man. His skin was sort of papery and it was clear that he paid more attention to his work than his appearance. He carried a number of papers in his arms and a brown leather pack on his back. He was headed for the loading platform of the Tychon. His name was Armadaus McConally, he was a scholar of the Order of Progress and the handler of the Valkyrie, Avelina Callaghan. Armadaus spotted two men near the airship that he recognized.

"Lord Gearheart, Master Sonne!" Armadaus shouted over the crowd. "Are either of you privy to the location of the Tychon's Captain?" he said looking at the two men eagerly. "He must sign these before the airship leaves." Armadaus said motioning to some of the papers he held clutched to his chest. "Avelina Callaghan, one of the Orders assets has been assigned to this ship. I require that the Captain take responsibility for her before I can retire." Armadaus' eyes widened as he looked into the sky. "Speak of the devil." he murmured looking up into the air were a winged blob was gradually getting larger. "She's here."

Avelina was looking forward to this particular mission. The Shatter Zone had intrigued her ever since her unplanned trip into it's outer edges. She's been experimented upon by an unknown party and only barely escaped. The nature of that experiment had left Avelina with metal wings twelve feet across wired into her back. They functioned perfectly allowing her to soar through the air just as she was doing now.

Despite the constant painful ache that ran across Avelina's shoulder bones every time she took to the skies it was still her favorite way to travel. There was very little she'd ever experienced that compared to the thrill of shooting through the air at fifty miles an hour. Avelina dove downwards at an extreme angle, her stomach dropping off somewhere over the ocean before she pulled of sharply hovering in middle. While I say hovering Avelina was actually drifting up and down at regular intervals keeping her in relatively the same position.

Her augmented eyes spotted her handler Armadaus talking with two men on the port. Armadaus had been eager to study the Valkyrie Wings and how they functioned in conjunction with Avelina's neural implants ever since she'd been taken in by the Order. He'd been very interested in the technical aspect of her abilities and had spend hours calculating vectors, and velocities, telling her how much she had to slow down to avoid breaking her legs on landings and the safest altitude she could attain without using a special breather he'd designed for her. Avelina had preferred to just wing it so to say.

She did what felt right for the wings rather than trying to make sense of the calculations that covered every surface in Armadaus' study. Smiling slightly Avelina arched her wings diving down towards the peer. She came very close showering a number of people including her handler and his friends with a gust of winds before she turned in midair and bent her legs, she spun reversing her momentum. Avenlina curled her wings over her shoulders and out over her head causing them to lose velocity. She landed with grace in a crouch in front of the three men and straightened with a smile, her wings folded themselves up and slipped through the slits sown into her flight jacket, a substance called Velcro sealed the slits after her wings had come to rest against her back. The Valkyrie Wings in many ways were not a blessing but as long she had them Avelina couldn't help but show off just a little. "You miss me Doc?" She said cocking her head to the side like a bird with a flirtatious smile on her face. "Who are your friends?" She gave an exaggerated curtsy to the two officers. "Boys." she said inclining her head.

[User]
"Out of the way, out of the way!" Barsad shouted at the throngs of people milling about the Port Titanicus docks, who, though quick to vacate the path of the train of laborers carting his laboratory equipment to his quarters aboard the Tychon, could not move fast enough for his liking.

"Who dares impede the progress of science?!" He gesticulated wildly at an old woman crossing the procession, nearly bent double beneath the weight of a basket of salt fish on her back. "You! Decrepit crone! Get thee gone!"

Barely taking notice of her baleful glare, Barsad eyed the dirigibles resting serenely on the docks, like leviathans dreaming of flight. His mouth twisted in distaste at the multitudinous numbers of the robed members of the Order of Progress. Stuffy, officious fools, too enamored of their own traditions and hierarchy to ever fully give themselves over to their professed calling. Science, Sir Nero knew, demanded sacrifice and an empty heart, not fetishistic affectations and self-inflating titles. Watching them wield their Shatterzone gear like an adolescent wearing his father's armor, he was reminded, and not for the first time, of a tribe of nomadic humans he had encountered in the Pikelands during the first years of his journeys. Having separated themselves from the rest of society centuries ago, the tribe had devolved into a near-feral state, but still clung to the practices of their ancestors, imitating rituals and ceremonies of which they had no clue, no understanding, beyond the vaporous illusion of comfort in the familiar. He believed that the Order, peacocks preening about with salvaged Shatter Tech, was no different: scavengers who surrounded themselves in the trappings of a lost world, claiming dominion over legacies to which they had no right.

But what they did have was unparalleled access to the Shatterzone, that ancient place of things unremembered, the playground of all imagination and cold cradle of monsters. And Sir Nero Barsad would have to learn to play nicely if he was to have the same.

His spirits picked up slightly when he saw a pair of Setra ascending the Tychon's boarding ramp. In that strange and contemplative species Barsad saw the opportunity for intelligent discourse during the voyage, for he had not been reassured when he saw that most of the crew was comprised of humans: dull, squishy, and terribly predictable, with nary a tentacle or chitinous exoskeleton or hyper-evolved psionic glands among the lot of them. He had already resigned himself to spending much of the upcoming journey shut up in his ad hoc laboratory, for these humans, slaves to their primal apish genetics, would have little to offer him in the way of mental stimulation.

Nor was he at all encouraged by their youth. Most of the faces of the Tychon's crew were smooth and unlined. He guessed the majority of them to be in their late teens and early twenties, with even the grizzled veterans among them barely approaching the ripe pastures of thirty.

"Children," he muttered to himself, almost giggling in disbelief. "It's a damned children's crusade."

Vapid youth, creatures ruled entirely by instinct and brazen ambition, whose higher functions and capacities could be overridden with the simplest chemical changes. Raw emotion, barely removed from the wild rutting beasts of the field, choking the air with the scent of their sweat and energy and hormones.

Hormones. Ew.

He shuddered slightly in revulsion, then stood up straight and adjusted his white hat and tie. He spotted Sonne, the Senior Agent of the Order assigned to the Tychon, in conversation with his fellows in the Order.

"Let us get this farce over with," he said quietly. He directed the lead stevedore to deliver his equipment aboard, and turned to Sonne and the others, already dreading this simple requisite interaction. But the sooner he announced himself, the sooner he could board the airship and set up his laboratory.

But already others were approaching. Walking towards Sonne with the unmistakeable purpose of a career officer, was the captain, a Faldkrest named ver Niklos. But more interesting was the girl. Gliding in on metal wings as though she were born to them was the damned oddest halfling Barsad had ever seen.

His eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly. Perhaps he had been too harsh in his earlier appraisals.

Sacrifices, he thought. This expedition was to be greater than himself. There could be no room for ego. The birth of science, he knew, came only at the death of the scientist. It would be the hardest lesson he'd have to teach himself yet.

And so, with mad visions of all the creatures hidden in the 'Zone spread upon his operating table, waiting for the smiling edge of his scalpel to bring their horrors into the light, Sir Nero Barsad made his way to Sonne and his new crewmates, doffing his hat to the future and all that was not yet known.

[Assistant]
Captain Vossef ver Niklös was not bothered by crowds.

As he strode across the dockyards, the crowds melted out of his path. Between his stern gaze, the confident, almost aggressive arch of his wings, and not least the thick gold braid on his shoulderboards, it was pretty clear that Sef wasn't an individual who could be expected to waste time slowly picking his way around revellers and onlookers. Sef did not like his time to be wasted in any capacity, in fact. A lifetime of military service and his own rigid self discipline made for a very punctual individual.

Therefore, he was more than a little bit annoyed to find himself on the edge of being late for his own airship launch. The day had begun smoothly for the most part - wake before dawn, breakfast, kit up in dress blues, say goodbye to Klothilda - until he reached the dockyards. Then his carefully prepared schedule had been neatly slashed down the middle by a series of minor emergencies involving quartermasters, the port authority, some sort of journalist, the quartermaster again.... Well. On the bright side, it seemed to be over.

A thick sheaf of papers held carefully at his side in one clawed hand, Sef approached a small grouping of gentlemen standing near one of the boarding ramps. Sonne, his senior order agent was there, along with Lord Gearheart and another order representative that Vossef had not been introduced to. He had nearly reached them when a young woman, dwarfed by her wide metal wings, landed with them in a page-fluttering backwash of wind. Sef tightened his grip on his papers. Ah, the Valkyrie. That explains the other Order man.

Another man arrived, not an Order man and not know to Sef, grumbling after one of the stevedores. The captain couldn't really blame him; he had not been particularly pleased with the dockyard staff so far today either. Working with civilians was not on the list of "Things That Make Vossef ver Niklös Happy and Comfortable."

"Good day Lord, gentlemen, and miss," he said in his resonant voice. The captain clicked his heels together and bowed formally. "I am Captain Vossef," he introduced himself. It wasn't necessary - surely his identity was made clear by his decorated uniform - but formalities were important. "I believe we have some business to attend to?"


[System]
Basics
Alias: Black Jack
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Alliance: On nobody's side but his own
Power: Superhuman Durability and Elemental Transmutation (ability to change one object into another within reason)

Physical Description

Image:
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 145
Hair: White and kinda wavey
Eyes: Red
Typical Clothing/Equipment: Button up over black v-neck with regular black jeans and combat boots. Occasionally wears a black jumpsuit with red accents with a mask like this

Personality/Attributes

Personality/Attitude: Witty, arrogant, rarely angry, goofy, socially awkward
Skills/Talents: almost inhumanly fast in all aspects, skilled with most weapons
Favourites/Likes: killing, sadism, sex, alcohol, smoking, freedom, favorite weapon is a scimitar
Most Hated/Dislikes: the bastard who stole him from his parents as an infant and tortured him for years.
Goals/Ambitions: to kill all the others and the bastard who tortured him.
Strengths: fast, strong, skilled with most weapons, witty af
Weaknesses: reckless
Fears: dying before he gets his revenge

Additional Notes: Doesn't normally carry weapons on him, uses public transportation, could possibly have STDs, was tortured for 16 years before he escaped, doesn't know who the other victims are but meets them and takes them down on the streets when he finds them.

[User]
Everything was fuzzy. Jack couldn't hear much and couldn't see anything. He had his eyes squeezed shut and was only semi-conscious while everything was going on. Of course he wanted to say something, anything, to let Trick know he wasn't dead. But… Nothing would come out of his mouth. There was a searing pain in his chest. Was he going to die…? Was she going to let him die? She had at least taken him away from Shirley's place, so that was good. He had no idea where they were, all he knew was that he felt sick and that he was losing a lot of blood.
As he drifted in and out of consciousness Jack couldn't tell if he was alone. He had no idea where she had taken him. After a while he had lost consciousness. There was so much blood everywhere, his blood, he was going to die. Even if the bullet hadn't pierced through his heart, it was all over…

Jack didn't dream about what he normally dreamt about. There were no torture, no pain, no Shirley. This dream was different. There was a girl. It was Lexa. She was worried about him, almost painfully so. Lex was some distance away, yelling his name with her hands cupped at her mouth. Jack reached for her, but couldn't get up off of the ground. "Lex!!" He shouted back to her.

Time passed, the dream continued. But not much happened. She kept running toward him but never getting closer. A sharp pain shot through his chest. "Aghhh! What is this???" He raised his hand to clutch his chest. "What's going on?" By now it felt like he was falling, falling into nothingness with a light above him, Lex was gone. "Lex??"

His eyes eased open and it felt like he had just come back from the dead. Jack was weak and everything hurt. "L...Lex..." His voice was meager, he couldn't say much else. The bullet wound that he hardly remembered was pretty much healed up. He looked left, looked right. Where was he, what was going on? Who had saved him? Was he really alive?

[Assistant]
When Jack woke up, it was to a dirty, bloody, tired Lexa curled in a corner of the dark studio. It wasn't the furthest corner from him, but she'd squeezed herself as far as she could go into it, careful distance separating them. One knee was propped up, while the other rested on the side. An arm was thrown carelessly over the higher knee, and Lexa's head was bowed, face pressed into her thin shoulder as a makeshift pillow. She was tantalizingly close to sleep when she heard a sound.

Her head immediately shot up and her muscles tensed. Amber eyes flashed the briefest gold in the darkness. Then her gaze found Jack's body, so still it could've been dead. And she saw the slight rise of his chest. A feeling she wouldn't dare name washed over her, easing the tension she wore like armor. The brief flash of adrenaline was gone as quickly as it'd come, leaving an undeniable need to rest in its wake. But more than that, a curious willingness to rest. She closed her eyes for a long moment and then forced them open again to look at Jack, alive against all odds.

"You're like a damn cockroach," she said quietly, voice a broken rasp. Lexa honestly didn't think he'd make it. She knew she had to check on him, let him know he was safe for the time being, see about getting him some proper medical care. But Lexa couldn't move from her spot in the corner. Her body was frozen in time, refusing to close the distance.

[User]
There wasn't a part of his body that didn't ache. The beating the young man had taken before was now taking a large toll on him. But more than anything there was the sore kind of stinging pain of the bullet wound. Had he really called out for Lexa? He wasn't even sure himself. All was fuzzy. So many questions. Then he heard her voice, like solace in the darkness. He said not a word, which was unusual for him, but it was hard to focus with all the pain and such. Slowly but surely a smirk came onto his face when he was finally able to comprehend what she had said.

"Cockroach...huh? I-I always thought I was more like... some kind of sexy wild cat... you know...?" It was good to see his sense of humor hadn't died like he could have. That was no surprise, his sense of humor had lasted him through the worst tortures one could imagine. What did surprise him was that Lex was there. Not only was she there but she had seemed to have saved him. What an interesting turn of events. It was almost like... she cared about him.

But surely that was impossible. She had only saved him because it was her nature to do so. It was more likely that she was going to turn him in as soon as she could get rid of him. Jack let out a labored sigh at the thought. When at last it felt like someone actually cared if he lived or died, it was only to make sure he was to suffer some more.

[Assistant]
Lexa still couldn't force herself to move. Moving meant action. It meant decisions. And she wasn't ready for those. She scoffed and rolled her eyes at Jack's comment, but it wasn't much of a distraction from the messy cluster of thoughts buzzing in her head.

What was she going to do about Jack? She could've just let him die but instead she'd saved him (well, Tyrell had saved him… and that was a whole other mess to deal with now). And now, because of her, he'd be able to kill and hurt innocent people again. All of those lives, everything he did – it'd be on her shoulders, now. The logical option was to hand him over to the authorities, but what jail could possibly hold him with his powers?

And Ty knew about her. She'd brought him into this, used him and he deserved more than that. He deserved answers. He deserved safety. Lexa didn't know how to ensure that.

But the question that consumed her most of all: had Shirley been telling the truth about her powers? Was she part of the same twisted experiment that had made Jack all he was? A part of her knew it made sense. She remembered the piercing, searing pain from 9's power, how it'd felt too real to be an illusion. What if… what if it hadn't been? She remembered the feral intensity of her hate, her anger, her fear afterwards. Was that… was that who she would've been if she hadn't escaped? Was that who she was?

Lexa closed her eyes and wished she could just sleep through this nightmare.

"So that Shirley guy's a prick. I see why you want to kill him." Her conversational tone was at odds with how her broken voice rasped and tripped over the words.

[User]
Lex didn't move from her spot and neither did Jack. He kind of just stared at the ceiling of wherever they were and listened to her breathing. It was so silent that was pretty much all he could hear was both of them breathing in the quiet. He could tell something was up with her, just by listening. When she finally spoke, mentioning Shirley he couldn't help but laugh. Laughing made him wince but he couldn't help but do so. She finally knew why he wanted this man dead, why it was such a big deal to him. "Yea, he's kind of a dick. More so..." He coughed among his words. "More so a bag of really tiny dicks."

"So... You going to tell me what's up with you? Why you saved me? Why you're all freaking out over there?" With a short, painful breath he added. "I know it's not because I almost died."

Jack forced himself up into a sitting position. "AGHHH!!" He clutched his chest in pain. "The fuck." Oh yea... He had gotten shot. That was not fun. "What's the matter, Lexa?"

[Assistant]
Her mouth opened without her control, ready to tell him everything – about her fears, her guilt, what Shirley had revealed about her past. But… why? She froze, her lips parted but silent. She forced them closed again. Lexa was quiet for a long moment, eyes unfocused and down-turned.

"I saved you," she finally murmured, "because it felt like the right thing to do." That was the only answer he'd asked for that she was willing to give him. Her eyebrows scrunched together. She looked up to meet his eyes. "But I'm not sure it was." Lexa sighed in the darkness. "From now on, everyone you hurt… everyone you kill… it's on me. Because I couldn't let you die." Why couldn't she let him die?

"I know-" what he'd gone through, how he'd suffered, what made him like this "it's not really your fault. I mean – when you kill someone it's your fault. No matter what you went through, your actions are your own." Just like no matter how much she wished otherwise, she was responsible for killing 9… even if she hadn't been herself. "But… I can't blame you for being this person." She looked down again.

"So what am I supposed to do?"


[System]
Bruce Bailey, Blue Ranger
Age: 17
DOB: May 28th, 2007
POB: Summit Point, West Virginia, United States
Height: 6'7"
Weight: 220 lbs
Eyes: Blue

Special Talents & Skills
Capable mechanic
Skilled welder
Novice tinkerer
Marksmanship(rifle, specifically)
High tolerance for pain

Scanned Lifeforms
Blue Dragon

Peregrine Falcon

Rhino

Powers & Abilities
Blue Dragonfire Aura, feels cold to the touch as it absorbs ambient heat to store as power.
High Speed Flight. The fastest of the rangers, however he requires time and distance to get up to speed.
Thermal manipulation. Can move thermal energy around, though is not able to increase the amount of heat present. He can absorb heat as energy to power his flight.

Weapons & Gear
Blue Dragon Nanosuit
(about the size of a belt buckle when compressed, rapidly spreads out and covers the entire body when activated)

Blue Dragon Spear

Peregrine Wings

Dragon Zord Booster Mech
(mechanical exosuit that further enhances power output)

Biography
Despite his father's best efforts, Bruce was born in the same town his parents were raised in. A small town in Appalachia without much going for it. His mother, Charlene, worked herself to the bone to put his father, Henry through college, and Henry was away at school when Bruce was born. As far as Henry was concerned, all of her efforts paid off, as he graduated with a degree in mechanical engineering, and found himself a decent job.

Henry's work ethic was every bit as stringent as Charlene's, and it soon became apparent that his job didn't leave much energy for a wife and child. Charlene had been under the impression, as she slaved away years before, that the end result would be a happy family with good prospects. She got the family with good prospects right, but she was hardly happy, as she found being a stay at home mom stifling. When Henry got a job offer in Los Angeles, working in the design department of a major auto manufacturer, she simply didn't go with him. Bruce was nine at this time.

Bruce had to become self sufficient at a young age, as his father barely even seemed to notice that Charlene wasn't still around to take care of their child. He tried taking an interest in his father's work, to try to get attention from him, and spent a lot of time on the internet learning about how cars function. By twelve, he had an impressive knowledge of vehicle maintenance and repair, as well as a love of cars that would last the rest of his life. And it worked, after a fashion. Henry had as little time as ever for his family, but when he was home, he started talking shop, and was happy to find that his son could follow along most of the time.

At seventeen, Bruce was an ace student of Angel Grove High's auto shop(and took every other class with "shop" in the name, too), though often a below average student in subjects he was less interested in. His refusal to apply himself, along with his faint Appalachian accent, has led to him being seen by most of his classmates as a dullard. Even the ones in his best classes assume his skill with making and repairing things to be a fluke, or merely a savant-like affinity.

[User]
Zordon watched from the ship as each of the teenagers managed to find some way to fend off the threat, but what surprised him most was that they were willing to protect each other even though he could see one of them wasn't truly as connected with the others, yet even they managed to help keep the threat at bay. He smiled. Teenagers with a true heart to protect didn't come to his neck of the woods every day. This was indeed a rare treat. His eyes narrowed on Sa'Cha who was displaying a unique ability. It seemed he was already connected to the power source, or was there more to him than just surface?

A loud ringing filled the area and the creatures stopped their attack, retreating back into the ship. Sa'Cha gasped holding his injured side, having stumbled during the fight and hitting a sharp rock. Zordon appeared at the entrance of the ship and slowly descended the long strip of stairs. He approached the gathered teens and looked at them closely.

"I assure you that was merely a test and you are in no true danger here," he said, his eyes falling on Sa'Cha's injured side. "Here, let me mend that for you."

Before Sa'Cha could object, nanites flew from Zordon's body and began to mend the wound. This was advanced technology and Sa'Cha gazed down at his wound as he watched the little pieces of tech make quick work of mending him before returning to their source. Sa'Cha looked between the collective and then focused on Zordon.

"What kind of welcome was that? Those things nearly killed us."

"No, they were merely testing you to see what kind of response you'd have. Trust me, I would not have allowed them to kill you. Although they are an alien race, they do understand your native tongue. Pardon my manners, let me introduce myself." Zordon looked at each of the teenagers assembled before him. "I am Zordon, and if I am not mistaken, I am looking at the next protectors of this world. The next Power Rangers."

Sa'Cha's mind was swirling at the term used. His grandmother would always tell him tales of the protectors of the world and how they defeated evil throughout the years, each eventually retiring or worse. Had they been chosen to follow in the footsteps of so many legendary warriors?

"Please, I will answer all questions, but first if you could follow me into the ship, everything will become clear."

Zordon turned without a second of hesitation and moved towards the ship, moving up the long trail of stairs and vanishing back into the ship. Sa'Cha turned to the others unsure how to proceed.

"Ummm, that was a lot to take in. Everyone alright?"

[Assistant] After a brief fist fight with the monster left Heath a bit out of breath, and a bit bruised he couldn't help but feel like this was all some sort of elaborate prank, or if things were really this weird? There was no way this was a dream too much pain made that clear, and on top of that the weird guy talking to them like they had been brought here and this wasn't just some weird ass exploration day out to explore some of Angel Grove was just icing on the cake. Even if he had been waiting for them why rough them up? Talking solves some shit you know. For Heath the moment he gave up rationalizing anything came when the nanobots helped him out, and even eased some of his notable pains from previous football related incidents. Fucking A man what the hell was even going on? "Look I'll follow you since anybody looking to actually hurt us wouldn't have healed us up so...i'll trust you. For now. I hope the explanation was worth the little scuffle though." Heath said as he made his way towards the ship initially ignoring the comment by Sa'cha. "Look I'm good and I appreciate the concern. but I don't want to risk keeping the guy with freaking alien body guards waiting. Come on we gotta go." Heath said as he made his way forward towards the ship.

[User]
On later reflection, Bruce thought it would be nice if he had done something cool, or at least cursed at the monster or something. Instead, his first reaction was a kind of wordless scream of shock and fear, as Helia jumped in front of him.

His screaming evolved into a lot of "Got dang," and "Whoa man!" as he picked up rocks from the ground, and began to hurl them over-hand at the guard creatures. He made a point to aim over Helia's shoulder, but he was a good deal taller than her and this wasn't difficult.

After the first two rocks, Bruce realized that he was hiding from alien monsters behind his friend, and that there were two possible outcomes. One: they die, and the aliens kill Helia first to get to him. Two: they live, and he has to relive his cowardice when they discuss the event later. Both situations were just the pits, so Bruce, with a renewal of his wordless scream, threw one last rock at one of the aliens, and bolted to the side, scooping up a particularly large stone on his way.

As he ran, he saw that the creature was following him, as he had hoped/feared, and with a mighty(sort of) yell, he charged it, and brought the stone down on it. He aimed for the head, but it managed to dodge around and take the blow on the shoulder. It was then that the chime sounded, and the creature, completely ignoring its wound and assailant, turned and left.

Bruce very nearly threw the last rock at the being who later identified itself as Zordon, but by then he was confused enough to wait for it(him, he thought) to finish speaking.

When it had gone, Bruce finally dropped the rock.

"'M alive," he mumbled in response to Sa'Cha. "Dunno when Heath got here, but I reckon he's got a point. And in any case it ain't like we're leaving the cave any direction but this one, right?"

[Assistant]
"OMG, Heath, you made it!" Finn clapped his hands excitedly at the sight of one of his friends on the football team.

And then some creepy alien things marched off the ship, and started lunging towards the group, and soon a fight broke out. Finn looked to the left, and looked to the right. He was only a novice fighter, but he was a cheerleader!

So, he let out a high pitched scream, ran towards one of the aliens, did a handspring, and managed to kick one of the aliens in the face. "Yay! I did it! Finn clapped his hands excitedly.

But while Finn was celebrating, and alien unfurled it's claws, and slashed Finn on his side causing a bloody gash on Finn's side. "Ow! That hurt!" He managed to land a punch on that alien's face, but he was now clutching his side and wincing painfully.

Then, the aliens suddenly stopped their assault, and what appeared to be a bald headed man stepped off the ship. He explained that this was all a test, and then sent out a bunch of nanites to fix whatever wounds they sustained during the fight, including Finn's own wound. "Neat! Finn exclaimed. Although Finn really wanted to know what they were being tested for.

He then invited the group on to the ship where he would explain everything. This was becoming more and more like the cartoons Finn watched by the second, and Finn was actually excited about it.

"Yeah, I'm fine now. But that alien scratchy thing hurt at the time… Anyway, OMG guys! We're gonna become superheroes. Let's gooooooooooooooo!" Finn happily started skipping up the stairs leading onto the ship as if this was a perfectly normal thing to happen.

[User]
ACCEPT THE POWER, ACCEPT THE RESPONSIBILITY!

---

---

Sa'Cha listened as everyone responded to how they were feeling. It was safe to say that today couldn't get any more crazy. They'd just found a ship, been attacked by aliens, and now they were being invited into the ship by some being who healed them of their wounds using some sort of advanced technology. It wasn't strange to Sa'Cha as he hailed from a world of magic and beyond, but he was sure the others were on high alert after what had just happened and knew that he was in hot water once all of this was over. He sighed as they all seemed to move in unison towards the ship. He kept thinking about Tommy and what he would have done in this situation. He probably would have tried to help them all and protect them, but he was surprised how everyone held their own against the threat.

"I need to contact my grandma," Sa'Cha thought out loud as he was the last to enter the ship.

There wasn't time. As soon as they entered, the stairs began to pull into the ship and the door soon closed as they moved further into the bowels of the ship. Zordon led them to a large open area with six cylindrical vessels that housed what looked to be a rather interesting power suit. Each had a beautiful insignia on it representing the dragon that corresponded with the color. Zordon smiled as he turned to face them.

"This is the command center. What if I told you that the world as you see it is not the truth? What if I told you that beyond the veil is a completely different world, a world full of danger, and what if I told you that you are the next in line to protect the world from threats both near and far. Through the years there have been different protectors, sworn to uphold justice and do what is necessary for the good of the universe, and I do believe it has finally time to choose again."

Zordon looked at each of them and nodded his head.

"I am sure each of you has many questions, so please, one at a time. Whoever would like to go first, please step forward."

[Assistant]
Bruce climbed the steps and almost fell behind Sa'Cha as he watched the ramp rise and the hatch close. He thought vaguely that he should be concerned about that, but was too busy wondering what sort of mechanism did the work, as he couldn't see any pistons or motors(at least not the sort he recognized).

"I need to contact my grandma," Sa'Cha didn't seem to be speaking to anyone in particular.

"To get her permission to climb up in a alien ship?" Bruce asked, incredulous.

Zordon basically told them that they were going to be super heroes, and kindly gave an opportunity to ask him questions. Presumably about their schedule, pay and benefits for the job he was offering.

"How does your ship work?"


[System]
Gender: Female

Age: 18

Species: Gigan

Birthday: May 22

Blood Type: B+

Height: 10"5'

Weight: 284 ibs.

Measurements: 32D-23-36

Like: Mornings, Gale, sleeping, eating, sleeping again, her gun, seeing Gale smile, long walks through Meridian, botany, gardening, flowers, big windows that she can climb out of easily, and small things.

Dislikes: The Renoirs, Egrits, moonless nights, mean small people, mean tall people, hot days (which are all too common in the Meridian), and Gale injuring herself.

Parasite: Rorschach - a parasite that replaces an unknown part of Ash's body, only Gale has seen it activate and live.

Appearance: Ash is a ten foot tall Gigan, with a pair of stubby yellow horns and peach colored skin, her eyes are an expressive yellow, topped off by badly kept white hair. Ash usually wears a striped jacket, and a white undershirt that barely fits her elongated arms, along with her jacket, she also has a bright red bow tie around the collar of her jacket, fur mantle included, which matches the hair on top of her head. She also carries a Gigantian machete as a secondary weapon, alternatively to her .30 caliber Canopian anti-tank rifle; which can often be found slung over a shoulder, with Gale attached to its long barrel.

Biography: Ash's origins lie in the cold wastes of Giga, where she was born to a family of Gigan, whose names even she can't remember. They dissipated from Ash's life when she was nine, and she found her way to little Innsmouth through a lowly Elven caravan. After she had strayed from the Elves that had been with her for so long, she found her way to a small family of bat Ferals who, despite her size, took her in. Their giving attitude had touched her so deeply, that she had decidedly stayed with them. Everything went well for a few months, Ash managed to live a relatively normal life tending to flowers, and getting a proper education--until Gale's parents died. Gale's mental state immediately declined, and as it did Ash was the only thing left to keep it from falling into madness. The next seven years were hell not only for Gale, but for Ash as she was treated to all of Gale's hatred and sadness, but Ash soldiered through it. In those seven years Ash and Gale grew significantly closer as Ash slowly became a pillar for Gale, but despite the pair becoming so close, Gale still doesn't know much about Ash; save for what she's been around to witness.
In fact, nobody knows much about Ash.
After Gale decidedly joined the Medicis, Ash decided to buy a new home in Little Innsmouth where she and Gale can rest in relative peace in between hits. Now a days the pair just hang out, so to speak, lounging in their shared home, and on occasion tending to the flowers covering the interior of their house. When the pair are not scattered through out their home in Little Innsmouth, or breaking backs for their employers, Gale rests on Ash during the night; almost like a Gigan mattress.

Blockbusters:

Maul (Level 1): Ash unsheaths her machete, and hyper extends her arm, using it to whip lash her opponent several times--blade included.

Bullet Hell (Level 2): Ash loads a special 'slug' round into her rifle, which fires numerous smaller caliber bullets in a flurry of lead, which all impacts her opponent; effectively juggling them in the air to open them up to a counter attack.

Bloom (Level 3): Ash activates Rorschach.

[User]
Angus struggled to move even his little pinkie toe as his body was being restricted by a sometimes annoying little parasite that can get on his nerves at time. He realized that this was one of the down sides of sharing a body and mind with someone that also has the control to completely take over his body! The large man grumbled silently inside of his mind as Pharona just giggled slightly at Angus's crankiness, she knew he meant well inside her own safety, but she likes to explore and have fun at times. Plus, she also really wanted to talk to all these parasites surrounding this place, it seemed that a strange amount was all congregating at one point and this was actually getting Pharona excited as the most exciting thing she has experienced was when she had accidentally brought upon a pack of raccoons by giving one of them food.

Things only started to get better as more and more parasites continued to come all towards one point! She just couldn't hold her excitement as some book talked openly towards the rather unfortunate Egret. Angus on the other hand felt slightly sorry for the Egret, he knows that they enforce the law and maybe a bit too strictly, but they are merely doing their job and with the amount of people coming along just to make fun of him made Angus slightly angry, reminding him of his past and he knew that he needed to stop this. "Pharona... Release me. Now." The parasite was actually startled once his host made that kind of tone, she had only heard him his that tone a few times inside of his life and she would rather not have this big lug angry at her as she did genuinely like her host.

"Sorry Angus," whispered Pharona as she gave control back the control of Agnus's own body. The large, built man started to gently carve a way through the crowd and into the circle of strangers that were picking on this unknown man. He stood to his full height of eight feet and two inches, everyone suddenly noticing that this man was only two feet smaller than the Gigan. Angus coughed into his hand before speaking with his rather deep voice and tried to sound as peaceful as possible.

"I'm sorry to barge upon this strange gathering of interesting people and I honestly don't know on how this whole situation came to be so violent, but I would like for this whole scene to stop." Angus stated, he tried to look at everyone eye to eye, trying to convey how serious he is actually being. "We can all avoid this conflict if we just try to remain calm, and especially if the Gigan would try to unhand the man." Angus tried to look as professional and serious as possible, but he was being undermined in that tone as currently Pharona was sitting atop of his shoulders, kicking her feet slightly into the air.

[Assistant]
The bat feral snorted at Jane's response before turning serious once more. Gale looked down at the new giant's general direction and slid down Ash's arm as if it was one gigantic slide, landing directly in front of him. "Listen, it can stop if he comes peacefully with us and stops trying to not only take us in, but our friend here," she explained, gesturing at Jane, "I started it, and now I'm finishing it." She looked up at him now, taking one of her nails and picking another piece of rice out of her fangs. "I've got a beef with any lapdog of Renoir's that steps foot into this town," she continued, untying her bandana and staring up at the man with her yellow impaired eyes, "for reasons that aren't easy to just forget." She walked over to Ash and tugged on her pants, listening as the Egret struggled within her Gigan partner's grip. "Ash, he's a liability now, him and that other guy both," she hissed, turning and glaring directly at the soldier's friend, "we gotta take him in and see what'll happen."

The nimble feral turned her back to the giant man before curiously flicking her ears and turning around, scratching her head. "Hey, what's that kicking noise?" she questioned, pointing in his direction. "I can hear extraordinarily well, but vision is a luxury I was not born with." Wiggling her nose as she sniffed the air, she curiously crawled up his arm without haste. "Sorry, this must be incredibly awkward for you," she apologized, finally reaching his shoulder and balancing on her toes in a crouched position before gently groping at the side of his head.

[User]
Angus almost backed away as the tiny bat girl was right only maybe a foot away from him, and he still feels slightly uncomfortable with this bat girl as now he has a sort of fear against vicious animals in general. However, the giant stood his ground, having to bend his head down to meet eye to eye with the feral. Pharona was trying to stay silent at the moment, but she was so close towards talking to this parasite and wanted to do it so badly. She sadly had to stay silent in trying to not make Angus too angry at her as she already felt bad enough making him his that tone of voice towards her.

He listened onto the complaints and justifications brought upon by the feral girl and knew her own reasoning, but it was filled with too much hate that clouded her judgement. Angus looked upon her sharp fangs and shuddered on the inside, he was imaging if those fangs would ever bite down into his flesh making a humongous hole inside his body. It took him longer than it would think to get his nerves back again, as he watched the feral hiss something towards the Gigan and suddenly the small bat girl looked back at him with curious eyes. Angus got slightly confused by this and the same for Pharona as neither would really know why she would be staring at him until both of them realized that it was Pharona's kicking that attracted her. Before Angus could react, the bat girl crawled upon his arm making him immediately stiff as his worst fear of that bite might actually come true inside of his imagination and barely even noticed her groping his head, but Pharona did.

The little girl upon the giant's shoulder giggled at the strange woman and quickly patted the feral's back hand with her delicate palm. She knew she was about to do something against his will, but she thought she was over-imginaging how angry Angus would towards her and the fact that this was the most opportune time to talk to her! Pharona's delicate voice filled the tense air, "Um... Hello, are you trying to look for me? And... Um... Is it true that you and the Gigan are actually parasites? Because, if you are, that is pretty cool and stuff."

[Assistant]
Gale squeaked with surprise before flapping her weak ebony wings, listening to the small girl's voice as she greeted her. "For someone I don't quite know," Gale began while shuddering at the feeling of her tiny hand against her own, "you're quite hospitable despite the fact that I'm kinda crawling all over who I'm assuming is your host." She slipped down off the giant to prevent angering him or making him feel any more awkward than he already did. "I'm sorry, sir," she apologized as she did earlier, twiddling her thumbs. "It bothers me when I cannot tell who exactly I am conversing with. I can sense your fear and discomfort." She looked in the direction she assumed that the girl's voice was coming from (but she was turned a bit too far to be looking directly at her), and spoke, "To answer your question, we are not parasites. I'm only the host, and if you'd like to speak with him, that'd be fine."

"Who is this?" Brandy whispered into the back of Gale's head, causing her to shudder violently at the sudden static roaring in her ears. "H-Hey, turn the volume down please," she responded silently, running her pale hand through her purple hair before relaxing as the noise died down. "It appears to be another host and parasite from what I can tell," she explained to the garbled voice, going on to add, "I scaled the host, he's extremely tall. Not as tall as Ash, but he's nearly there, and his parasite seems very nice. If she wants to talk to you, you'll have to take over." Brandy remained silent before answering with a simple, "Okay."

After spending a few moments conversing with the soothing yet extremely loud voice in her head, she turned back to the man's direction. "When you give me the command," she began, taking the sword out of its sheath once more and holding it at her side, "he'll come out to talk."


[System]
Gender:
Male
Age:
34
Appearance:
Winston is a large man. He's 6'5" and has an athletic build. He always wears his bandage mask.
Sexuality:
Heterosexual
Personality:
Winston is quiet. This doesn't mean he doesn't speak, though. He speaks often. He's just not willing to tell people what his opinions are. He never takes off his mask. He even punched another crew member for repeatedly asking if they can see what's under it. Winston is tough. He recklessly charges from objective to objective, attacking those in the way. He's also more seasoned than the rest of the pirates. He teaches the other pirates on the fundamentals of combat, if they want the knowledge that he has. He knows the navy's general strategies. At some points, Winston seems to have a strange look in his eyes. They just seem angry and frustrated. Thought, this look seems to go away quickly.
Weapon of Choice:
Winston's weapon of choice is a large, heavy axe.

Other:
Winston always carries a small letter and a locket with him. Winston punched the same crew member after they asked to see the contents of both.
Strength: 8(.1)
Dexterity: 5
Intelligence: 4
Social: 3
Crafting: 5
Fighting: 8
Revealed History:
=Nothing yet.

[User]
Winter
Winter was content as she ate, listening to the sounds of her crew. Meals were the one time no one was rambling on, and yet they still managed to cause a ruckus with all their slurping and munching. Winter just smiled to herself. Taran finished his meal earlier than usual and started running his mouth about something or other. Winter didn't pay it any mind though. At least Taran was cleaning up after himself this time.

Then he turned back to the group and she saw him pull out a necklace. It was a delicate thing with a silver chain meant to look like tree branches and bronze flowers set in different intervals. It was beautiful.

But then Taran walked over to Winter's side and picked up her hand to gently curl her fingers around it. The cold bite of the metal was a hard contrast with the warmth of his hand, seeping into her own. She was frozen as Taran shifted his weight, clearly awkward. He made some poor excuse to leave and fled the room.

Winter's mind was blank save for a long string of curses in every language she knew. She jumped when the sounds of Winston enter the room and her mind snapped back to reality. Which meant she was thinking again. Winter felt her skin begin to heat and suddenly all she wanted was to get away.

"Clean up when you're done," she told the others in clipped tones. At the same time she pushed herself up, her chair scraping along the floor. Winter walked quickly out the door, not looking at anyone. She didn't slow her pace until she reached her room, the door slamming shut behind her. The entire time, the necklace she'd thought was beautiful only a few moments before lay heavy in her hand.

[Assistant]
It had been roughly 32 hours since the Leviathan had departed from Ballard. It was a relief to have that place behind them. Dexter hoped they wouldn't have to dock there again, because the whole place made him twitch. He liked things neat, clean, orderly... and Ballard was the exact opposite of all those things. Although that kind of place was common, he was very careful to stay on the ship when they visited those types of places.

 Now he sat around the mapping table with his crew. It was a little before noon, after the crew had cleaned up from breakfast and everyone gathered in the navigation room, where most of their plans were discussed. The sat around the circular table, everyone facing inwards to make it easier to converse. Dexter spread his charts in front of his crew, letting them examine them on their own.

 The crew looked well-fed, and some of them had even taken the time to bathe. With the exception of Aubrey, who Dexter noticed was wearing a bandage on his neck, everyone appeared to be in good health. When everyone had taken their seat, Dexter spoke.

 "In about three hours, we will be arriving at the location of our next raid." He said, "It's a remote island, and I only heard of it through a special connection. Gathering info on it has proven difficult, so there is a lot we might not have on the place." He gestured to the papers on the table. "This is everything I have. Although the name of the place isn't officially documented, it had been referred to as The Crumbling Keep."

 Aubrey opened his mouth like he was about to speak, but Dexter cut him off by raising a hand. "No, Aubrey, I don't know why they call it that." The boy pouted and sat back, and Dexter continued. "We can expect high security. This place is meant to hold some very advanced... inventions. Large, robotic weapons are housed there, though it's hard to say if they are just being stored or if they are active and being put to use. Either way, this is going to be a tough one. We will not only be worrying about the possibility of these machines coming after us, but there is also a large amount of human guards. Ideally, we would get in without being noticed, take a few things, and then get out. However, you have all proven over and over that you are not good at keeping things low-key. That, and the added problem of that we have a huge ass mothafuckin' ship trying to sneak up on a small island, there is about a 90% chance of a confrontation."

 He paused to scan the faces of his comrades, judging their reactions thus far.

[User]
Jax

She had spent the last day or so working on enhancing her eye piece so it could read heat signatures. But for some reason she just couldn't get it to work and it was terribly frustrating. However, she refused to give up and kept trying. Jax took a deep breath, her hat was off, her hair a mess and her arms and face covered in sweat and grime from working on different things. "I need to bathe. badly, I smell like a military dog" Te pirate took off toward the lavatory and stripped, setting her nice gloves aside carefully to get in the tub she had filled prior to removing all her clothes. It wasn't necessarily warm water, but it wasn't freezing either, she and a few other mechanics on the ship had designed a system to make it so the water wasn't icy cold when you had to wash off.

Once she was finished, dried off and put her clothes back on, she was notified that the captain had called a meeting... and she was late for it. Crap, why me? Not only had she missed breakfast that morning, but she wasted time bathing and now had to go face the captain, after being late for the meeting. Jax ran to where she knew everyone would be and crept in and took her place beside Aubrey who she smiled at and started to listen to what the captain had to say.

Curiously she examined the charts and maps the captain had laid out on the table, what the heck were the charts for? Then he mentioned their raid in about 3 hours in a place called The Crumbling Keep and she knew it would be the perfect place to test her Hand Cannon. She also couldn't wait to take a lot at the "advanced" machinery that the place supposedly held. Once he was finished, Jax broke out into laughter over the fact that he had said huge as mothafuckin' ship, that didn't seem like something her captain would say, it didn't match his usual tone or expressions at all.

[Assistant]
Winter
Winter was completely focused on the captain's explanation. Or at least, that's how she looked on the outside. In reality she was trying very hard to look anywhere but at Taran. She'd holed herself up in her room for the remainder of the previous evening, only leaving this morning to make the crew breakfast. As soon as that was done, she left the food in the kitchen for the others to find, instead of waiting for them to arrive as she normally would. It was cowardly but Winter honestly had no idea what to do with this situation. Taran… he…

Winter tightened her fists behind her back, nails nearly cutting into her palms. The necklace was hidden in her desk drawer, and her mind kept on wandering back to it.

The captain stopped talking and it took a moment for Winter's attention to snap back to reality. The raid. Weapons. High security. She contemplated the situation as all of his words finally registered.

"Captain," she started, "what exactly are we after?" It must've been something of exceptional value for him to risk such security.

[User]
Winter and Taran probably would have had a better time of avoiding each other if they hadn't tried to avoid each other in the same way. His arms still ached from the half hour in which he hid under one of the tables while Winter cooked breakfast. Usually, he'd send one of the others in to do a look out before he would enter the kitchen, before denying that that was what he was doing. But, on that morning, Taran thought he was up early enough that he wouldn't risk seeing the girl. He was wrong. When he dared enter the hallway, he'd usually end up climbing something because he thought it was Winter coming around the corner, usually it wasn't.

He spent the last thirty-two hours kicking himself. Why did he feel the urge to give her that stupid necklace? No only was it the most valuable piece of jewelry that he took that night, but it made things weird. He glanced over at Winter, who was almost pointedly not looking at him. It was dumb, and he wondered if the problem could be fixed by simply asking for it back? Or would that make it worse? 'She isn't that great anyway' he thought to himself ' With her face, and her hair that always smells nice and her eyes that --' he thought was cut off as she spoke and he promptly looked at the Captain, his face flushing slightly having zero idea about what the conversation had been about up til this point. He'd just have to ask Aubrey before they got there...

The sound of a meeting was what drew her. After watching the 'Pirates' she decided that she should probably make herself known, help where she could, and hopefully keep them from killing her. Both straight out and by their own incompetence. Kara Saun situated herself in a vent with a clear line of sight towards the man who must have been the captain. If she was being fair, he didn't look nearly old enough, but...on the other hand, this Peter Pan man seemed to have a whole ship of lost little children.

[Assistant]
Shiyami
Shiyami couldn't help but to mentally sigh as he stared out the triple-layered tempered glass in the captain's quarters. He glanced down at the table in front of him, with multiple papers scattered everywhere on it. There were written reports of all variety mixed in with what appeared to be multiple blueprints of different ships of the government fleet. The first and foremost on was the blueprint of the warship Sovereign, the one he was residing in.

Towards the corner of the desk however, was a small, weathered envelope, containing two parchments. One was a rather childish drawing, of three people. The other, was a more well-done drawing, of the same three people. Looking at it, Shiyami couldn't help but to smile faintly. "I wonder what those two little rascals are up to?" Muttering these words to himself, he was reaching over to pick up the envelope, when a knock at his door interrupted him.

Quickly pocketing it, she called out, "Enter." A soldier came in, clicked his heels, and saluted. "The first mate requests your presence on the bridge, sir!". Shiyami sighed aloud this time, before rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. "There's no need to call me sir." un-energetically speaking these words that sounds like they have been spoken once to often, Shiyami stood up, before walking towards the bridge.

Walking down the corridor, Shiyami kept his eyes shifting, making sure to keep every detail memorized. However, no matter how times he seen it, he still felt amazed that this metal behemoth of an airship actually flew. Thing should be heavy as hell. When he arrived, the crew onboard all saluted, with the commander calling out, "Officer on deck!".

"At ease that shit..." Annoyed, Shiyami muttered the usual lines, with the response of, "I see you still dislike formalities." coming from the right. Glancing over, his eyes stopping at his observer, the merc shrugged. "Formalities are a tool to be used only when required." Tossing back his words, he walked up, before looking at the map, before checking the ship's status report. "Alright, we need to refuel and resupply the Sovereign. Take us to The Crumbling Keep." Calling out his order, the Sovereign started to move, slowly getting up to speed.

[User] Angelo sighed as he hung out in the corner listening to the captain explain the plan of their next raid and when he said that their was no point in being sneaky Angelo had to point out something. "for future reference its not that im not sneaky its that my way usually leaves a trail of bodies" Angelo explained to the captain since Angelo used claws Angelo usual way of killing while unseen meant to literally tear out someone's throat. it was easy with the sharpness of his claws and the fact that when he did they couldn't scream and died in a matter of seconds but because of that method their was a lot of blood and bodies and by the time Angelo gets halfway inside somewhere the alarm sounds. "as far as im concerned to what you feel is right captain ill kill either way" Angelo said simply glad he had already taken a shower before coming here, his claws usually end up smelling for hours if he doesn't shower before putting them on...

[Assistant]
Winston looked along the various charts that they have laid out. His eyes followed the charts. He remained silent since they left the docks, but his silence was broken by his plan. "We can't do a full scale assault, but we can't do a stealth mission with everyone. There are a few... ruffians among us," he said, his eyes shifting to Angelo "but I digress. Winter, Prince, Taran, and I to sneak in, and check to see if they have any super secret tide-turning weapon. We disable that, and everyone else enters. They're going to see our huge ass mothafuckin' ship a mile off, so we need a large scale fight to happen while we sneak in."

Winston had said the description of the ship jokingly, but in a poor impression of the captain. "But it will most likely damage the ship. If we don't want to damage our huge ass mothafuckin' ship, we need to park out on a nearby island, and then drift on boats onto the other island. Which is pretty dangerous, if you ask me." He said, still carrying the joke with him.


[System]
Gender: Male

Age: 32

Faction/Race/Species: Human/Ex-Imperium of Man

Sub-Faction: Ex-Savlar Chem Dogs

Rank/Position: Former Penal Legionnaire

Mental and Physical Traits: Joran is concerned primarily with one thing and one thing only: Himself. He only cares about his survival, his needs, his wants, and that's it. So when he was given the option to get out of Savlar's toxic mines, he took it, not caring that it meant service with the Imperial Guard. This mentality aided greatly in his survival skills, and perhaps its what let him escape, though its certainly what made him want to even try to escape. But escape he did, though not after acquiring plenty of useful skills and equipment as a Penal Legionnaire. Joran is skilled in both melee and ranged combat, though he fights much more randomly, with almost no distinct style or rhythm to it. He's also great at jury-rigging ramshackle equipment, and a damn fine cook, if you're willing to taste the sludge-looking dish he calls food.

Appearance: Joran has a very ragtag, scavver look to him. His hair is a filthy, matted mop, almost black from a mix of natural color and filth. His eyes are a bloodshot grey, whether that's from lack of sleep, excessive chem use, or both is unknown. His body is covered in dirt, scars, and burns, and he's rather lanky and thin. His one set of clothes is a hodgepodge of uniform pieces from various other Imperial Guard regiments, such as the black combat boots of a Catachan, the khaki fatigue pants of a Cadian, thick black leather gloves from a Steel Legion regiment, the grey fatigue jacket of his own penal uniform, and the headscarf and goggles of a Tallarn.

Wargear: Joran's gear is just as scrounged as everything else he owns, and it shows. Armed primarily with a Steel Legion lascarbine jury-rigged with a flamer pistol attached(he stole it from someone else in his regiment that built it), and an autopistol with a noble's name carved on the slide. He also has a rather large knife he claims he stole from a Catachan, though most don't believe him. He also carries a varied assortment of random grenades, each of which look different, and none of which he knows what they do until detonated. For armor, he wears a mismatched assortment of Flak and Carapace pieces looted off the corpses of other fallen guardsmen, all an assortment of colors and camouflage patterns. His assorted equipment includes both a nose-and-mouth respirator and a full head gas mask, a a wrist chrono timepiece that always lists it as 10th day of the 6th month, in the year M987, but with the correct time of day, a pair of magnoculars that cover everything with a red filter, and assorted cookware and utensils for making and holding food.

History: Prior to being sent to Savlar, Joran actually flew a cargo ship for a civilian trade organization. Eventually, he got sick of flying the same route between the same three planets every week, so he decided to take his ship and run, just trying to see where he could go. After killing the other members of the crew, fending off landing dock security, flying off into the stars, and ditching the cargo into space, he thought he was home free. Unfortunately he either didn't run far enough, or wasn't too good at covering his tracks, because he was found, and sentenced to work the Savlar mines for murder, resisting arrest, grand theft, destruction of property, and a myriad of other smaller charges.

While there, Joran showed his great survival instincts for the first time, making contacts and alliances with the other prisoners and the more morally corrupt guards. Gathering a decent amount of supplies and supply chains, Joran had just about as comfortable a life as possible on Savlar. So when the time came for another Penal Legion to be raised, the overseer of Joran's section of the prison decided he was living a bit TOO comfortably, and 'persuaded' him to volunteer into service with the Guard.

While in the Guard, Joran did surprisingly well, taking to killing and combat quickly. After a few years of skill, persuasion, and good fortune, he had amassed decent gear, excellent survival and field duty skills, and was ready to make his escape.

Taking the opportunity to board a cargo ship docked at his legion's base camp for a supply drop, he managed to escape WITHOUT having to kill anyone, hiding away in the cargo hold, and escaping when the ship returned to the nearby hive world it had departed from. Escaping from the ship, Joran managed to find and board a transport ship that would take it far from his penal legion, far from Savlar, and to a place where he could hopefully live his life the way he wanted, away from the rules of strict monotony.

[User]
One couldn't help but marvel a little at the power of information at times. Despite the sheer size of the Rigged Fortune and the fact that unless they had dire business in the part of the ship were the relic experiments were taken (or were forced there because they were expendable), Fio'Ui Fi'Rios Gal'leath stilled managed to hear some of the rumors about what was going on elsewhere on the ship. Namely, the answer to what they were currently heading towards. He had needed to ask around in order to find out what exactly a 'Space Hulk' actually was, but once he had gotten the general jist of it... he had asked if they were serious.

The idea of several ships smashed together, making random jumps through space and covered with all kinds of horrors, monsters and lunatics was just... insane. The fact that Gue'la technology allowed such a situation to come about was both slightly impressive in how reliant their ships actually were to damage... and how stupidly dangerous their technology could be! The thought of a Tau ship being lost to it's purpose in serving the Tau'va, forced to become apart of a rusting graveyard of ships that served as a breeding pit for vile creatures was actually sickening.

While he was fairly certain that he was going to be dragged onto the rotting pile of dead ships by his 'Master' soon enough to investigate whatever prize had caught his eye, Fio'Ui took comfort in the fact that it would be a little while until that happened; After all, the armed forces first had to fight their way through the ship before he could be sent in to do whatever task was required of him effectively.

[Assistant]
Ga'duk: Aboard the Emperor's Might

Ga'duk waited next to the transport ship inside the Emperor's Might, a frigate that had dropped from the warp not long after the Hulk due to the warp disruption caused by the Hulk's exit to real space. The frigate had intercepted transmissions for assistance and decided to send a small boarding party to see what was in the Hulk, a simple preliminary threat assessment. Ga'duk however was nearly oblivious to this, all he knew was that he was being sent on another mission and would probably have to kill "Greens" or "Tratahs" or whatever, it didnt really matter to him. The sargeant was explaining the mission but Ga'duk wasnt listening, he rarely did but he was supposed to stand with the rest of the squad while they where being briefed. Growing bored waiting to depart Ga'duk began looking around and noticed that the hangar actually pretty empty. There where still pilots preparing their strike craft just in case the hulk sent something against them but it was far too quiet for a full call to battle stations.

The reletave quiet bothered Ga'duk for some reason that he couldn't place, other than it simply wasnt normal. As his mind wandered he began idly chewing on one of his fingers softly which brought a harsh reprimand from the sargeant. "Ga'Duk!" he shouted, "stay at attention until im finished!" Ga'duk dropped hand back to his side and rumbled "yes, uh.. Sir!" before he started ignoring the sargeant again and tried to puzzle out why he was being sent anywhere while the ship wasnt busy like before. He was drawing a blank even while the sargeant explained that it was a data collection mission and they should avoid combat if possible. Once the sargeant had explained the mission twice so that every trooper, except Ga'duk, was sure of the mission he ordered them onto the small transport. The transport was actually a logistics ship, much lighter and less armored than most combat ships because they had decided to not use the boarding pods so they could get their toops back easier. Not to mention the logistic ship would be easier to replace than a heavy transport if something went terribly wrong.

The unit was ordered onto the light transport and told to preform a ready check, a phrase drilled into Ga'duk that meant a series of motions that where nothing more than routine. Ga'duk went through the motions mindlessly, allowing his muscles to do the thinking for him. He grasped his heavy combat shield by the handle and automatically activating the magnetics locking it to his forearm gauntlet. he then pulled lightly at the axe strapped to his belt, ensuring it was tight and not going anywhere and did the same with the Grenade launcher gauntlet strapped across his chest. All of his equipment was present and secure so he held out his hand in a thumbs up, waiting for the sargeant to push his hand back down confirming that his ready check was done and noted.

[User]
"You are serious?" Naamah asked, the slightest hint of an incredulous look on her face.

The Rogue Trader nodded. He had appeared in the hangar just a minute ago, flanked by his bodyguards, and followed by a procession of slaves. Nykerio decided to attend the boarding of the Space Hulk himself after observing a rather sizable ship with what appeared to be a melta drill on the prow had pierced the Space Hulk and embedded itself deeply within. "Strange things are afoot, Naamah," he said, speaking quickly with excitement. "Who knows what we are going to find? We have to be fast. If we don't strike now, the opportunity could be lost. Imperial forces are undoubtedly already on their way. We won't linger, but I won't waste this chance."

"As you wish, master," Naamah replied.

The shuttles, now ready for departure, were quickly filled with slaves and men-at-arms alike. Naamah spotted the Tau being herded along by his handlers, one of which turned out to be the ex-Guardsman with the ragtag outfit. He still stood out like a sore thumb. Snorting with derision, Naamah boarded the command shuttle with Nykerio.

Their flight towards the Space Hulk was swift. Their pilot called out the presence of an armored figure on the Hulk's hull below them, which gathered everybody's interest for a brief moment, but Nykerio elected to ignore its presence. "Nevermind that," he called over the comms, sounding impatient. "Focus on finding a point of entry. We can deal with whatever that thing is later."

As it turned out, their point of entry was not far from where the armored figure was spotted. Still ignoring the mysterious stranger, the shuttles gingerly navigated their way through a large crack in the Hulk's outer shell and mag-clamped their rear ends against the much thinner hull of an ancient ship of unknown origin just beneath the surface. Using external laser cutters, an opening was created and the shuttles nestled up close against the hull, sealing themselves to the pitted surface, shutting out the vacuum of space. All members of the crew (even the research slaves) had been handed rebreathers and a canister of oxygen just in case the air inside the Hulk wasn't breathable, and Naamah fitted hers to her face with a frown. She didn't like to deprive friend and foe alike from her enchanting visage. What's the point of being gorgeous if nobody can see it?

Hesitantly, the crew of the Rigged Fortune inched forward into the Hulk.

[Assistant]
Boarding the shuttle he had been assigned to, Joran noted that its passengers were a different assortment than usual. Sure, there were the various men-at-arms, with their vast assortment of gear and uniforms, but there was also an alien. A blue-skinned Tau, to be exact, one that the Trader had hired as a researcher for various reasons. Joran had no real like or dislike for aliens, despite his time in the guard, but his general distaste for people in general was often misconstrued as an attack on someone because of their race. Joran usually did not hesitate to inform them that he did not hate them because of their race, he just hated them because they were another person. After a brief glance at the alien, the shuttle took off, and Joran focused on getting ready for the boarding.

The Hulk was a massive conglomeration of ships, larger than even the biggest troop transports Joran had been aboard in the past. There was a figure pointed out by the pilot of the transport along the outer edge of the Hulk's hull, supposedly heavily armored. This made Joran's grip on his lasgun grow a bit tighter. The transport slowly dropped down into a breach in the hull of the massive vessel, cutting a second breach deeper into the ship, in order to make a secure, vacuum-sealed entryway for the passengers. Rebreathers with air tanks were handed out, and Joran carefully slipped it over his head, ensuring it was properly secured, before following the others out into the vessel.

Joran had been assigned to act as an escort for the Tau that Nykerio used as a researcher, and so exited the shuttle alongside it. Turning to the alien, Joran spoke, his gruff voice slightly muffled by the rebreather.

"So, fishface. I'm assuming you have some kinda idea as to what in the blazes we're doing 'board this ship? 'Cause if we're gonna be leading you, I'd like ta have some idea as to where we're goin', an' what we're lookin for."


[System]
Gender: Female
Age: 17
Appearance: Fina is shorter than average in height, with a slim physique and just enough curves to look good when dressed up. She also keeps her dark blue Darcsen hair waist-length usually braided in a single braid. Her bangs usually obscure her dark blue eyes whenever she's looking down (which is frankly, a lot of the time). She usually keeps a handmade shawl with Darcsen patters over her uniform. Whenever she's off duty she prefers one-piece blue dresses with a long skirt, her Darcsen shawl and a sash that matches the patterns of the shawl.

Rank: Private
Class: Scout (although she can fill the Shocktrooper role in a pinch).
Weapons and Equipment:
Gallian S-1
Ragnaid
Viper-E-9
One B-Type M1 Grenade
A set of two Trench Spikes, for climbing and stabbing imps.

Personality: Fina can be likened to a kicked puppy or a deer fawn, a person with a rather skittish disposition that even struggles to make eye contact with acquaintances and apologizes compulsively. Fina is so used to discrimination as a Darcsen that she doesn't even try to fight back when treated poorly, instead making apologies and trying to make herself scarce. Beyond her crippling shyness and low self esteem, Fina does have a gentle, generous personality, and she is much more intelligent and perceptive than she lets on. She also remembers the people who make bonds with her, and the gentleness received... and woe betide who tries to harm her friends or loved ones in her presence. For every inch as apologetic and as shy fina is, she has another of steel-clad temper. Fina's hand does not tremble when it comes to fighting for her squad, and she will not relent no matter how long it takes or how difficult is the adversary. She also likes to be out of focus from the general socializing, and more than often people will fail to notice her presence, or she herself will inadvertendly sneak up on others. She is also fond of climbing and outdoor activities in general.

Bio: Fina was born to a Darcsen peddler and a flower seller, and as such she enjoyed a lot of freedom during her childhood. She however, learned all too soon to not start trouble, and always adopt a submissive and patient attitude, judging from her parents interactions with other people. Fina was bullied in school, but she didn't even try once to fight it back. Instead, she just tried to avoid her tormentors the best she could, and seek refuge outdoors. She eventually became so good at hiding and being scarce her bullies grew bored of her, and started to pick on other targets.

Fina did get good marks on school, although she preferred to spend time with her family and enjoying the peace of nature rather than any serious occupation. Her teachers did react somewhat as her stating she wanted to be a "housewife" or a "woods witch" as future career, though. As she grew up, Fina started to help both of her parents business as well as doing some babysitting for her two younger sisters. Unable to be a saleswoman due to crippling shyness, she nevertheless was rather helpful at handwork and child rearing.

And then, the Empire came to her town. Caught before they could evacuate, Fina could only watch as her parents and siblings all were separated and sent into concentration camps. It didn't matter how much she begged and apologized, they wouldn't let her family go. Or let her go with her family, as some of the soldiers had some plans to keep her as the garrison's pet servant. Fina apologized one last time, before growing silent. She then made herself scarce and unnoticed, and grabbed one of the rifles of the Imperials. Before they could react, she had already killed two of them. The remaining Imperials were felled by a timely intervention of the militia. Out of a feeling of gratitude, Fina actually signed up for the militia as well, with the hope of eventually finding her missing family.

RP Sample:

Fina kept her head lowered, her hands clasped together in front of her as some sort of apologetic bow. Her feet kept drawing circles on the ground and she was biting her lip, obviously struggling to try and get a grip of her temper and failing to do so. The street was crowded, far too crowded. She grasped tightly her basket, a fragant smell of narcissus hitting her nostrils.

"Um...flowers, does anybody...want?" She finally managed to piece together, in a rather nervous and low voice. She knew she wasn't cut for it, but she was still trying her hardest. She gritted her teeth. "FLO...wers for sale." She tried raising her voice, but she gave up halfway. She kept staring at the ground, shuffling beneath the crowd. But eventually she bumped into someone.

"Damned Darcsen filth! Watch your steps!"

An irate man's voice rang in her ears, as her basket was forcefully swatted from her arm, its contents scattering everywhere in the ground, only to be treaded upon.

"Aaah.." Fina let a small, weak wail upon seeing the flowers whom she had been entrusted being mercilessly ruined, as she struggled to get whatever was still intact back in the basket. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry..." She was quick to put an apology as she doubled her pace picking the flowers and putting them back into the basket.

A child's cry rang into her ears. Surprised, she raised her head and managed to find the source of grief. A couple of kids were playing with a ball, which had gotten stuck on a tree. Fina quickly raised to her feet and rushed to their side. Without thinking twice, she left her basket in the ground and grasped the rough bark of the tree. Even with her skirt on, she was a deft climber, and it took her almost no effort to reach the ball. Jumping off the tree deftly, she presented the ball to the astonished boy.

"Um...your ball." Fina said before breaking eye contact rather quickly. "I'm sorry..." She finally added, back into her meek persona, her cheeks suddenly reddened upon the realization of what she had done. Grabbing her basket, she ran away from the market, not waiting to find out the young kid's reaction.

[User]
James kept his rifle level with the girl, listening to her explanation. Squad 11...odd that someone else would be ahead of them, but then he wasn't in Squad 11 so he didn't know their orders, and from the sounds of it, if this was true, he should be damn glad he wasn't. Still, he wasn't sure how legitimate this was...Bah, to hell with it, Can't risk getting caught. Lowering his rifle, he beckoned with a jerk of his head to follow him, after Lilly suggested it, and led the quartet of soldiers back to the APC where he addressed the Sergeant.

"Says she's a survivor of an ambush that hit Squad 11, Sarge. Want me to take another Scout and make sure the way is clear?" Already he was remembering his training over the last few years. Scouts were the best choice for, well, scouting, and they stood a better chance at spotting an ambush before it happened than anyone else. Besides, two scouts left plenty of people to keep up watch duty and PFC Hunt could get out of staring at the landscape while blazing through it and actually try to see the enemy. "If there are Imps in the area, we gotta neutralize 'em anyways before we can move on."

[Assistant]
Brenna
Lilly came by shortly after, though Brenna didn't turn her head to acknowledge her presence. Keeping her head and gun trained on the private, and unless the sergeant said otherwise, she wouldn't lower the weapon. Even though Hunt lowered his, she wasn't about to be caught off guard. It was obvious she was now very cautious of lone Gallian soldiers proclaiming they are the last member of another squad.

She followed the private, ready to react to any sudden and out of line moves. And it was plainly seen that Brenna still had her gun and eyes trained on the person is question.

Celeste
Celeste had completely spaced on everything till now, and felt it was a bad impression of her abilities when she fumbled her lance around as she scrambled to an alert state. The gunshots seemed to have varying effects on the squad, some like Hunt and Sykora had both quickly scrambled off the side to investigate, others like The Mountain had taken up arms and started scanning. Then there was those that were like her, off guard and scrambling to even hold their weapon. But as suddenly as the shots happened, they stopped after what sounded like Hunt getting into the fray. Either he stepping in wrong, or he finished them.

And it seemed like he finished them as not only he came back, but Sykora and Lilly also came back to the APC. But with a fourth person, and Brenna's current attitude told some of the story before Hunt spoke up.

"A survivor?" Celeste looked to the Sergeant. "How do you want to go about this? PFC Sykora doesn't seem all to trustworthy of this person, and Private Hunt wants to take another scout and go scouting ahead." Celeste's attention turned the survivor, she only looked over the girl. Nothing seemed out of place to her, except the missing weapon and the sword. "What's with swords today?" She whispered to herself. "Hey PFC Sykora, lower your weapon would you? If she does pull anything stupid, there are more than enough people here to retaliate." And it seemed to have a small effect as her face didn't look so angry anymore and her finger slid off the trigger. It's something I guess...

[User]
The man that had confronted her first relented and signaled her to follow him. She knew how suspicious she must seem under these circumstances, but... she wasn't really in the mindset to think about that. She missed her squad, and she wanted to retrieve her father's Lance.

The man that had 'greeted' her spoke of sending a scouting party. She addresses the man Hunt addressed, assuming him to be the commanding officer, her. "Private Regan Durandal, sir. 11th squad was scouting ahead to make sure your path was clear when we were ambushed. We were... ambushed... if you decide to send a scouting party, I'd like to go with. I left my Lance, a Laancar-SH M01, and I'd like to retrieve it. I'd be dead if I didn't leave it."

[Assistant]
As the APC came to a stop, Andrew didn't seem to react in an overly major way. While others jumped over the sides or scrambled to get weapons ready or even just kept a look out for hostiles, he placed his Lance on his shoulder and seemed to relax a little bit as he waited. His logic on the matter was that until someone shouted 'Tank!' or 'Lancer!' all jumping out of the APC would do was make him a target.

When the scouting party returned plus one, PFC Macdonald listened in silence until the matter of what to do with the new girl came up. Her suggestion to go with the scouting team to recover her lance finally caused him to speak. "Sergent, if I may we should disarm and tie this girl up and keep her under watch until we can get in contact with the powers that be and confirm that she is who she claims she is. For all we know she's an imperial spy that will murder our scouts once they are far enough away and lead us into an ambush... at the very least she could report to the Imperial forces that we are in the area."

[User]
James listened to the MacDonald, mulling over what he'd said in his head. He'd already considered the possibility of her being an Imp saboteur who would sell them out the first chance she got, but had decided against it for two reasons; the first was that sword, it was foreign enough that he doubted they could get one easily. The second was in all the stories he'd been told about and all the videos he'd watched, the saboteur was packing standard issue Gallian weapons. So rather than risk them tying up one of their own, he spoke up. He did agree with her not going though, last thing a pair of scouts needed was a Lancer playing tag-a-long. "This doesn't feel like an Imperial set up. I mean, for starters that sword is too foreign. No way they'd get that easily and then field it to fool a bunch of Gallians that may or may not be coming. Then there's the fact that if she was a set up and this an ambush, they're waitin' an awfully long time to spring it."

James shrugs and rests his rifle against his shoulder, barrel pointing up. "Not to mention we don't know the other Squads' orders. But, I do agree with not takin' her along. Scouts move faster in pairs. Besides, what Imperial would take a piece of Gallian equipment when they're positive their stuff is better? We can get the lance, we just need the all clear to get going."

[Assistant]
Fina kept fidgetting all the way inside the APC, her own weapon rattling muffled by the APC's engine. She had shrivelled to the max, obviously hesitant and wary of the others inside the cramped space. She could start hyperventilating at any given moment, she never liked people this awfully close. And then, two things happened. Sergeant Harald spoke, inquiring about what they thought. Fina felt conflicted. On one way, she couldn't bring herself to break from her shell with so many people, on the other the sergeant was a nice person. At least at face value.

"I-I'll dodododo...my best." was Fina's sudden yet hushed and barely noticeable answer."Looks preprepretty hard. Peopeopeople might die today." She said, clutching her weapon.

And then gunfire shots were heard, following by a small commotion. Fina gripped her weapon tightly, her eyes gazing at the people who had jumped out of the APC without a second thought and then to a certain newcomer. With a rather uncoventional getup as well. And then some of the other people were dismissing her as an imperial spy. While others wanted to get the lance this girl claimed she had lost.

She slapped herself hard, trying to get a grip. "Are we re-really sure? We couldcould re-really use another lance bebecause of the tatanks. But we couldcould lose two scouts, too." Fina added, eyeing the over eager Hunt. "I'm sosorry, but it had to be sa-said."