[System]
*Organisation App*
Almost 130 years ago, a great meteorite struck the Earth in the southern lands of Alm'Zar. Across the world, prophets and mystics sensed a disturbance, and the followers of Trazyn claim that the lesser deities shook on their Earthly thrones. For within the falling star was a being, alien to this world, known only as Trazyn. Possessed of great magical power, it reached out into the minds of those nearby, the loyal guard of the Al'Nuk Empire, and asked for their aid. The guards that entered to investigate came out changed people, claiming to have found the only being worthy of their loyalty and unquestioning devotion. They were the First of Trazyn.

The might of the Extraterrestrial God expanded rapidly, as it promised gifts of arcane power and equality to those that would reject their political leaders, and swore fealty to Him alone. And he delivered, mysterious crystals implanted into the body granting magical power to those born without arcane potential. Great armies marched in His name, conquering those who did not come under His rule by their own will through brute force. These were known as the Infinity Crusades, and it was said that the legions of zealots were an unending sea, swarming across the country, twisted by the magic implanted into their souls.

However, the World is a big place. The Elves of Lysandor stood firm, proclaiming that Trazyn and the injection of His mysterious arcane power was an abomination. Great battles ensued, but to dislodge the Elves from their ancient forests was impossible. They allied with the remains of the Al'Nuk, as they pushed back, driving against the maddened armies, battling Eldritch powers, aiming to destroy Trazyn himself once and for all.

What happened in these wars is the work of many legends. The Al'Nuk were completely wiped out, their cities and holds part of the reformed Infinite Empire. Trazyn halted his great Crusades, having formed a peace treaty with the Elves of Lysandor. The tribes that had once dwelled the plains of Alm'Zar were incorporated into the belief, living in the cities or traveling to far off countries as missionaries, aiming to convert more cities to the world's most feared religion. Today, the Blessed of Trazyn, centered in the Infinite Empire, have spread across the globe, their religion seen in many places as being abominable and terrifying. However, they preach the equality of all under Trazyn, from commoner to noble to king, and have demonstrated this in their own empire. In many cases, the lower classes have rebelled in the name of Trazyn, forming their own city-states far from the Infinite Empire, loyal to Trazyn.

Beliefs of the Blessed of Trazyn:
 - Trazyn is the architect of the universe, the very first magical being. It was He who created the very existence of magic, and it is from this magic that all other beings are born.
 - All people are equal, for all intelligent beings are the same. To stand one above the other is blasphemy, and only Trazyn and his Prophets have any rights beyond those of normal men and women. This includes the equal division of magic beyond genetic heritage, granting arcane powers to all who wish to have them.
 - All of nature is owned by the sentient races, and it is theirs to do with as they will, provided they heed the words of Trazyn.
 - All belongings are equal, and all is to be shared among the entire population. There will be no rich, and there will be no poor, for all are equal in the eyes of Trazyn.

*Character App*
Name: Alice Nettlebrush, The Immortal Innocence.

Race: Elf

Gender: Female

Age: 12

Personality: While in many ways Alice acts as a typical 12-year-old, she has certainly been changed by Trazyn. She often knows things she should not have known, and possesses a strange, sly wisdom. She often displays dual personalities, and memories that don't belong to her lifetime. She is generally kind and caring, although she is devoted to Trazyn, seeing her God as part of herself. Due to the crystal implanted into her skull, this might be accurate.

History: Coming from the Nettlebrush family, a small family of elves who became a part of the Infinite Empire, Alice's parents opted to send their youngest daughter to become a Priest of Trazyn. She would learn the ways of Trazyn, and preach his name. They did this because they knew the Priests of Trazyn were well treated, and that it wasn't good for elves in the Infinite Empire to be opposed to the Will of Trazyn in any way. Little did they know what would follow.

Upon being implanted with her 'Gift', a synthetic crystal that implants some of Trzyn's magic into those born without when implanted into the body, Alice had a vision. It is said that she spoke many secrets, already knowing the 42 Names of Trazyn, and the greatest secrets of where and how Trazyn was kept. Alice was offered a choice by Trazyn Himself, and she chose to become His Prophet, to spread His will and to become a vessel for His power. As such, she became one of the 4 current Prophets of Trazyn.

Position: Alice lives in Areopolis, representing Trazyn in this great and powerful city. Here, she leads the Temple of the Infinite, which is both a religious institution, and the embassy for the Infinite Empire. She expresses her Empire and God's wills and stakes in the councils and meetings of the city, and oversees the trade relationships between the Empire and other people. This is an important task, because many are reluctant to deal with the Blessed of Trazyn.

*Character App*
Name: Ja'Lir Arian.

Gender: Male

Age: 47

Race: Human (mostly)

Personality: Stern and determined, Ja'Lir is only truly happy when he's doing the work of his Lord. He's an introvert, with a stern face that reveals nothing about him. He revels in doing what he considers the right thing, and places the importance of the 'greater good' far above his own life, happily sacrificing himself to save others.

History: Born in the Infinite Empire, Ja'Lir chose the life of the military when it became time for him to choose his occupation. He was trained as a warrior, to fight and die for the glory of Tazir. He became a master at what he did, both in his physical skills and his manipulation of the Gift. As such, he rose through the ranks, earning many medals in the field, fighting off those who would attempt to destroy Tazir. Eventually, through his valor and skill, he was chosen to be the personal guard for Alice, and to represent the Arm of Tazir in Areopolis. He accepted this post gladly.

Position: As Alice's Paladin, it is Ja'Lir's duty to ensure her safety, and to kill any who would take her life. He is also responsible for playing his part in the diplomatic relationships between the Infinite Empire and Areopolis, a physical representation of Trazin's armies, a threat through his very existence.

[User] "Mhm i think we should take our leave...i am sure they are looking for me or you..." Zazroia spoke sighing loudly before moving away form the group and the whorehouse back to his group's region,Although he was interested in the dragon he was not equipped to fight a dragon by himself he would need the help of his kin mainly Ultimana and Ruqa who are old but wise and are would probably talk the dragon down although he did not know if even that could work.

[Assistant]
It was like a storm blew through Giulia's. Everything happened all at once. Henna had just excused herself from the brawl downstairs, and had taken the elf with her to her room to enjoy their food there. She'd just finished and was looking for some nice dry clothes for her guest when the door was kicked in by a big thug clad in iron. The trollkins eyes had been darting to and fro for some kind of weapon to use if the man got violent, but he'd just told her to give the elf her glass and then left. As she was staring at him, dumbfounded, someone downstairs began shouting about a dragon.

This city was nuts, sometimes.

Henna turned to her guest.

"Do you have any idea what that man was talking about?" she asked, "Because I don't."

[User] Tex hurried along at the frog man's instruction, seemingly sharing his sentiments entirely. As he rushed alongside him, he spoke in brief spurts of conversation. "As for teaching you magic... it'd take quite a while for you to be as proficient as me, but... I'd be willing to give it a shot. Wish I knew where my staff went, though." He gestured for Zeetah to pause and turned to him. "You didn't happen to see it sitting around the alleyway, did you? It's not 100% necessary, but it does make spellcasting quicker and easier, which means a big deal when you've got a bunch of soldiers several inches away, staring you down with swords in their hands. If they were a little farther away, I could have flung a fireball at them before they got close, no problem."

[Assistant]
Most who were granted the Gift of magic chose to use it flashily. Having lived without magic, they wished to display their new capabilities at their fullest. A popular technique was to light your sword with eldritch flame. They didn't seem to realize that, on the whole, if you had stabbed something, the fire wasn't going to do much extra. Fireballs, beams of eldritch energy, grasping claws conjured from the darkness, or great bursts of burning light. Amusingly enough, the Infinite Empire's army had transformed into some form of terrifyingly lethal light show, with all the fire, lasers, and glowing orbs of wrath.

Few truly recognized the sheer power not of simply applying strength, but applying it where it was needed. To control one's Gift with subtle precision, to only do as much as was needed for the situation.

Alice closed her ink black eyes, focusing. She could feel the humming magic moving through her, a miracle delivered directly from Tazyn, to guide His followers. And as His scheme unfolded before her mind, she simply guided, placing the power where it was needed, with the precision and skill necessary for a Prophet. Even though even she could not yet see the end of this glorious plan, her faith was strong. For her God was with her, guiding her every action, her every thought.

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

Soaring through the clouds, propelled at seemingly impossible speeds for it's great mass, the wyvern observed the city below it. As a being born from magic, it could feel the magic far below, and even it's primitive animal instincts recognized the danger. There was, of course, far easier prey to hunt, the kind of prey that didn't throw fireballs, and whom's claws were not made of iron. And yet, even as it's great eyes flashed briefly black, it started angling downward. For below, it could suddenly smell the tastiest of prey. It knew that below was a buffet, something it had never tasted before.

With the promise of food on it's tongue, the beast descended on the Tall, townsfolk and soldier alike fleeing from the area, mothers carrying children, children carrying smaller children. Those who could not walk, and were not carried, simply crawled, or cried in terror, as they beheld the beast, the Wyvern.

A majestic beast, it's scales shining golden in the light of the afternoon sun, it's eyes of bright red glaring down, selecting it's prey, and identifying the dangerous ones. It's two wings even now were unfurled, a pair of long hooked claws at the end of each, aiding to hold it in place. It's tail extended fair backwards, growing thin, until it ended into a great barbed point, containing an arcane toxin unique to Wyvern-kind. Great talons crashed through the feeble wooden roof of the slum it had chosen to land on, as it beat it's wings to prevent itself from falling into the water.

The Wyvern threw it's head into the air, stretching it's neck, fanged jaws parting as it unleashed a call, like an abominable mixture between the howl of a wolf and the shriek of a banshee, a hundredfold louder. And yet, even as hundreds fled the area, a single figure came stalking towards the dragon, clad in great armor, and bearing one of the legendary Swords of the North. Turning it's great head, the beast observed the tall humanoid, teeth bared, turning to face this new threat.

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

Throughout the city, the word had spread, and with it a wind of terror, partly natural, and partly magical in nature. An enhanced panic, as people fled the area en masse, the Royal Guard retreating to guard the Noble Houses, the Mage Guild forming a great shield, the Priests of Ashyr activating the great metal golems that guarded their gates, massive bronze swords held at the ready. And yet, across the city, the doors to taverns are kicked over, many proceeding to skid over the floor.

Figures of all races, scarred by a hundred battles, stepped out from the darkness. Men with armor forged from the bones of Manticors, Elves whom's bows had received the blessings of forgotten Gods, great mages wielding eldritch fires of pure might. Adventurers, those brave souls who had always been in abundance in a world of such dangers as Wyverns. Problem solvers, monster hunters, dungeon delvers, grave robbers, and thrill seekers, those who had seen the maw of the world, and survived it.

And as each reached for their blades, a wave of dark magic washed through them. Each would wish for the bounty on the dragon's head, and each would wish it for themselves. Greed, pride, wrath..... they burned freely in the eyes of those who only moments before had rallied in the face of danger. And as spells flew, and swords thrust, it was not the dragon that was their target. Yet, it was the most capable warriors of the land, slaying one another in cold blood. Those mages and priests who had felt the magic sweep through the city could only gaze on in abject horror as the bloodshed commenced.

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

Upon the Throne of Stars, sat a small girl, a smile on her face. Soon, the authorities of this city would be toppled, and the prophecies of her master would come to pass. For it took only the smallest push to set the world's end in motion, if only one knew where to press. And Areopolis, the commercial and religious center of most of the civilized world, was the perfect place to begin.


[System]
Character Concept: The straightforward musclehead who believes that anything can be solved with his fists.
Gender: Male

Background: Damien was a delinquent through and through. He often skipped school and picked fights with anyone foolish and/or strong enough to accept them. Surprisingly enough, on the occasions he did actually go to school, his grades were decent, although that was probably mainly to get his nagging parents off his case about his lifestyle. One day, though, as he was playing hooky as usual, he spotted a kid across the street playing with a ball. Thinking about how stupid the kid was, Damien was about to ignore him and go to an arcade he frequented when the kid kicked the ball into the street, and of course the kid would run into the street right into the path of a speeding car. Acting on instinct, Damien immediately rushed over and pushed the kid out of the way, though at the cost of putting himself in the car's path. It's easy to guess what happened next.

Level: 1

Class: Brawler

Race: Demon

Attribute: Focus

Martial Arts:
None

Thaumaturgy:
-Hellfire Salvo: Damien can envelop rocks or other small bits and pieces nearby with a black-and-red flame, then levitate them in the air and/or fire them at his target(s) at high velocity. The maximum amount of projectiles is currently at four.

Gift:
Curse of the Demon: Damien can will his arms and legs to transform from his hand to his elbow and his feet to his knees, forming a red rocky exterior covered with yellow markings, with pointy fingertips and toes as well. These limbs are much tougher than normal human limbs, and certainly much stronger as well. Very handy for both offense and defense when he needs to get somewhere fast and deliver powerful punches and kicks to whatever's in his way.

Equipment: Nothin'. Well, except for the clothes on him.

[User]
Dragon Rayo

 Tossing and turning, he was startled by the loud noises invading his ears. He was dazed and uncertain of the sounds he was hearing. Opening his eyes, he was immediately blinded by a sudden flash. His hands instinctively acted like a visor to adjust to the lighting of his environment. His body shifted slightly and there was confusion regarding the surface he was laying down on.

 Titling his head, he spat onto the floor. He had something weird in his mouth; they popped under his teeth and tasted foul. The sensation was familiar and helped him realize he was on a beach. The grains of sand in his mouth and the lukewarm floor was all too recognizing. The music he kept hearing was becoming more clear.

 Instead of hearing distorted sounds, it was shifting into recognizable beats and bashes. He could tell of the rhythm in the song. Touching his mask, he remembered his request. His wish was granted.

 "Dreams do come true," Dragon Rayo muttered. He took a few moments to bring himself to his feet. The luchador was still getting used to handling a body full of muscle mass. Overall, he felt groggy, but it did not look as if he was alone. He was taken by surprise of a crowd of people dancing sporadically to the music.

 It was a weird sight; men of different sizes and races were strutting along to the high-pitched sounds of techno music. Dragon Rayo stopped and took into account of everything. "Why am I here? Is this my purpose?" The luchador brainstormed questions and tried thinking of possible answers.

 He touched his forehead and was taken back by his mask. "Of course. I am a lucha-" His thought was interrupted by a short man offering an illegal substance of some kind. He watched other people begin consuming unknown chemicals. Rayo was not looking forward to be drunk in this new body. He already felt confused enough.

"No, senor. I can't right now."

Beach:

  Jemma was beginning to go through the process. Her vision was becoming crimson and her senses had been heightened. The techno music increased in volume and the voices of the passerby became increasingly loud. The sun might have shown a little more light. Everything that she was experiencing before hand became too excessive. After a quick moment, her vision went back to normal. The sounds she was hearing and the lightning went back to normal.

 Then her vision flashed into a blue filter. Her vision was a bit hazy and her eyes had cutaway to another view point. By her perspective, she could see herself be grabbed by a beast man. The beast man had said, "This is the place where bad decisions happen, where man, woman and whatever else, give in to their deeper desires and enjoy the life they have!" She could see the individual snatch a few drinks from other party-goers. Focusing on the party-goer who had the misfortune of his drink snatched, his expression turned sour.

"Let the future you worry about the future, this moment belongs to you and me and all of us! Now drink up and shake your stuff!" said the beast man. The other party-goer stepped forward. He was displeased to have his drink taken away and he aggressively pushed the beast folk. "Hey, buddy! You owe me a drink!"

The blue filter ended and Jemma felt a strong urge to throw up.

Effects:
Slight Motion Sickness
Able to see Moments into the Future
(All effects are Temporary)

 A blonde man had the misfortune of his drink taken away. He gritted his teeth and walked over to the beast man. Confronting him with a push, he demanded the beast man buy him another.

 The dwarf stepped a bit back. "This party is getting more wild!" The short man began screaming out loud and pumping his fist. "C'mon, muscle-bound. You should take pointers from that beast man!"

Farmhouse:

 The scarecrow stepped a bit back; he was taken back by the laughter. He began having second-thoughts about fighting. There was a slight feeling of danger surging through his body. From what he had heard, these two could be all-powerful. The scarecrow was not sure if he was ready to give up his life.

 He acknowledged one thing. He wasn't going to fight alone. There was no way he could that. "Ezekiel! They're here!" The scarecrow's yell rambled the other's ears. The beetle jumped off his eye socket due to the vibrations of his voice. Crows hidden inside the field had flew away in terror.

The scarecrow looked over to the farmhouse. The sound of wind chimes could be heard during the pause of silence. There was an outside screen door that could be seen on the farmhouse. The particular ones that creak every time they are opened. The particular ones that always slam against the wall from the wind if someone doesn't possible properly close them.

 This particular screen door slammed against the door as a man darted outside and through the fields. His feet moved quickly through the corn. The scarecrow turned over to the three. "...No matter what. I won't back down."

 A man in overalls popped out of the fields. He was your typical southern stereotype; Ezekiel, as the scarecrow called him, had black mutton chops and unruly hair style. His attire was simple stained overalls and a plaid shirt underneath. The farmer's boots were old and torn. In the farmer's hands was a Marlin 60 Rifle. He immediately pointed the firearm at the intruders. "I knew this day would come, damn it. Don't do this! I have kids! I said I'll have everything by next week! I need more time, damn it!"

 The farmer breathed heavily. "I don't want to to do this..."

[Assistant]
Egwene tightened her grip on the man's shoulder as he backed away from the Scarecrow, and said he would leave it alone. That, wasn't her problem. She wasn't in any way bothered how he treated the Scarecrow, but she was bothered by how he treated her. Still, before she could continute her count, the Scarecrow screamed for Ezekiel, and the scream was responded a few seconds later with a guy carrying a rifle.
"Huh, were's your chariot?" She asked, still gripping the other guy's shoulder. "And, I believe you have mistaken us for someone else. We were recently dropped off here from elsewhere by....something, we don't actually know. I think. And I can shoot fire out of my tail! So, we aren't here to do anything to you, your kids, or your scarecrow. And if this one-" She started, gesturing to the man of whom she had still grasped "-tries anything, we get to see what twenty seven thousand degrees of focused heat does to the pneumo-tissue" She finished, grinning broadly and happily even though she had threatened to punch a hole in a guy's lung just a second ago. "So, why don't you start at the start and tell us why a large rifle is your greeting for new people rather than a cup of tea?"

[User]
Aidan Diavol

@Eklispe@Damiann47

---

Aidan retracted the shinai (bamboo sword) and rested it over his shoulder while his second one dangled in his grip.

"You're finally awake," he greeted the feline girl.

I didn't expect to see anything else honestly…well do you have any idea where we're going? (Sonia)

Removing the sword from his shoulder, Aidan pointed with it at the blue-haired three-eyed person's back as he was walking away.

"We're following that guy and we're hoping he's taking us to a village," he explained to her before turning to follow him and Orion. "Come on. No cat left behind."

The swordsman caught up to Orion in time to hear him self-proclaim himself indirectly the leader of their little group. Whatever. Aiden didn't really care for his main concern was figuring out this foreign land and his new life.

"My name is…" Aidan Diavol. "Aidan…Diavol…"

It felt strange saying it as though it hadn't been his true name, but it had been the first name to enter his mind. "I'm a…swordsman and a mage…I think."

It was hard to sound certain when one could barely grasp the environment, but he knew he would have to learn to do so quick in order to survive.

[Assistant]
Jemma - The Beach

---

The young woman hardly noticed the massive figure who blocked her path. There were so many people jostling her about, and besides, most were probably far too intoxicated to pay her any mind. But when a sturdy hand cupped her backside, she gave a squeal, and realized that he was focused entirely on her. This was not another drunken fool who paused only to shove a cup in her face, though she did smell the heavy stink of alcohol on his breath. This man had taken interest in her, and under the blinding sun, with the music throbbing in her head, she struggled to figure out why.

Well, if man was the appropriate tone at all. Jemma's lips parted in awe, and she nearly lost the candy she sucked on as she gazed up at him. It. Whatever. There was so much hair, and the horns that protruded from his head could not possibly be fake. If this person was also dead, and had followed the same process that she had, he had been far more creative in selecting his appearance.

As his other arm snaked around her small body to drag her closer, her hands went up in protest. Balled fists met the hard muscle of his midsection, and her heart leapt to her throat. He was saying something, but it sounded far away, and all she could manage was a soft, confused "mhmm." What in the world is going on?

Suddenly, her sense of sight felt off. Everything appeared brighter, but perhaps it was the strange blue filter that was to blame. Time seemed to speed up a bit, and she witnessed a man having his drink taken. But as quickly as the vision had come, it died away, and the blonde turned her head as she gagged. The candy was gone, and the sweet taste of strawberries had been replaced by something far more vile.

But what she found far more upsetting was the scene that played before her only seconds later. That same blonde man from before, raving about his cup being taken. "What the?" she murmured, before retching again.


[System]
Physical Description:
Sarah is a slender girl with bright green eyes and soft, shoulder-length pink hair and pale, almost alabaster skin. She stand at about 5'4" (162.6 cm) and weighs 100 lbs (45.3 kg). She has a curious glint in her eyes, and tends to see everything as though for the first time.

Class: Oracle

Personality:
Sarah is a warm, compassionate soul, always worried about other peoples' welfare and willing to go to any length to protect them. Despite her lack of social experience with the world, she can tell when people are being hurt or abused, and will try and ease their suffering any way she can.

Due to mostly being a blank state, the world around her entices her curiosity, and she will try to learn as much about it as possible. She will try and know more any new sensations or experiences she might encounter, giving her the feeling of a wide-eyed newborn child eagerly gawping at the beautiful world around them.

Her lack of experience with the world means she's also very naïve and clueless about current events or about certain social cues or behaviors that more worldly people would pick up easily. She does have a general sense of social decency and behavior, but the nuances or subtler plays are a bit beyond her experience, and a cunning operator can out-think her until she catches on.

However, despite this, one should not push her too far. She is still an Oracle, and programmed with combat skills and powerful abilities, and can end up fighting back rather tenaciously when she or those she cares about are threatened.

History:
Sarah recalls nothing of her past, practically having been 'born' to the world with the opening of her case.

Abilities:
* Enhanced physical attributes: As an Oracle and genetically engineered being, Sarah possesses a certain amount of enhanced strength, increased agility, and improved durability and stamina, as well as a small measure of enhanced senses. However, the emphasis are on stamina and agility, making her a poor choice for a heavy fighter.
* Healing: Aside from no small skill at normal healing, she possesses the ability to heal injuries and wounds almost instantly. Currently, she's still learning how to use this power, so she can heal mild injuries and cuts.
* Protective 'magic': Sarah can use her 'magic' to protect her allies by casting a small, protective halo to absorb some of the damage that hits them.

Equipment:
Sarah barely has anything beyond the shirt on her back and a few items and supplies given to her by her mysterious caretaker.

RP Notes:
Sarah is basically a blank slate, one with little to no knowledge of the outside world, and must learn more about it to survive and complete her destined mission. Fortunately, she does have a certain amount of combat skills programmed into her, allowing her to fight competently and survive long enough to get stronger.

Sarah's main virtues are compassion and empathy, the ability to feel for those around her, and a strong desire to reduce their suffering and help them find happiness.

Role-wise, Sarah would lean towards a mage-knight with an emphasis on magic and healing. While she is still an Oracle, she prefers to use magic and healing to support her allies in battle and help them out of battle.

[User] He roars in fury, seeing her blade charge up, and lunges for her, but stops and starts spinning his scythe like a shield, a thick black wall of metal. The lightning arches across it, and he howls as his arms are scorched, but he keeps up his defense untill the attack ends, his body vanishing into darkness.

[Assistant]
Srah

As the energy disspiated, Sarah stood there, breathing hard, barely able to stand up. She feels tired, exhausted, but waits to see if the attack got through. All she sees is a dark shadow dissipating.

Did... did she get him? She's afraid to hope, and struggles to hold up her sword. However, it's clear the stranger had disappeared, though he left no corpse. It's... eerie.

For now though, she can finally rest. It had been a long, exhausting, and stressful day, capped with the tragedy of Master Thunderfist's death. She staggers over to his body, and then drops the sword as she collapses to her knees, her body wracked with sobs as tears flowed from her eyes. Pip whimpers as he tries to comfort her.

"I'm s-sorry, M-Master Thunderfist," she sobs. "I c-couldn't help you... I'm sorry..."

Kensu was the first person she'd met when she came out of the capsule, the first person to break the solitude of her existence. He had the keys to finding out who she was and why she was here. And now he's dead, and she feels lost again.

[User]
Kensu's Island
Sarah and Jabberwocky

 The sky was clear, the sun was bright over head and a salty breeze blew in from the sea. For a few moments the only sounds were the cawing of the birds and the soft slapping of the waves as they broke against the beach and the docks. The ground of the beachhead was scorched and ruined, sand and rock were strewn about impact craters telling a violent story of the fight which seemed to come from no where. A young pink-haired girl, tired and weak, had fallen to her knees and was propping herself up with a blacked and smoking sword. A small, blue tinted dog was on his hind legs trying to lick her face, worry etched in his body language.

 Solemnly the people of the village began to pick up rubble and shuffle debris, beginning to form order out of all the chaos. It was not the first time one of Draygon's followers had attacked their village, though usually they were more prepared to fight. The incursion with the spider brood left them weak and open, and it was only bad luck that Jabberwocky, one of the worst of the lot, had been close enough to take advantage of the weakened town, and now they paid for it with the death of their strongest warrior, Kensu Thunderfist. The people mourned quietly, being familiar enough with grief to understand how to cope and begin to heal.

 Eight older members of the village walked to Kensu's body, one of them carrying a canvas sail taken from one of their boats. They lovingly brushed the dust off his face and cleaned what blood they could to help him look presentable in his passing. They wrapped him in the canvas and took him down into the village where he would be prepared for their burial ritual. A young man walked up to Sarah and offered his hand to help her up. He was shirtless and tan, wearing some loose fitting shorts with various belts and straps. His hair was long, black, and curled into ringlets; and his body was covered in various, nautical tattoos.

 "Hello Oracle," he said warmly, "My name is Steven. You've been through much, I'd much rather give you a proper introduction to our village," he smiled as he helped her to her feet. "First let's get you some food, hot water for bathing, and some rest. I'll take you to Kensu's hut, follow me." He felt tired, the effects of the spider venom and the gas, as well as the adrenaline of the attack from the monster was only going to last so long, but he needed to get her to the hut and then take care of his own family. She was first priority though, she was one of the Oracles. Her kinds were worshipped almost like living deities by the people of the village. She had shown that she had great strength, compassion, and goodwill, this confirmed in Steven that their worship had not been misplaced.

 Kensu's hut was directly on the water, it hadn't been damaged in the recent fights. Amara, Steven's aunt, had brought some bread, cheese, and salt cured fish and left them on a plate on the table. Moana, Steven's little sister, had already filled the bath with sea water and lit the fire underneath. The people of the village were of one mind, that they needed to take care of their new visitor, their new Savior. Steven led the pink haired girl over to cot opposite to the table with the food. "There's a pull cord with a bell, if you ring it someone will come to attend to you. Please, you are home here." Steven bowed and smiled and backed out of the door, leaving Sarah alone in the quiet, peaceful room that belonged to, or used to belong to, Master Kensu.

a young man led Sarah to Kensu's old room to bathe, eat, and recuperate her strength. The villagers are beginning to clean up and rebuild. SETTING: In Kensu's room there is an old computer that works! The use of the computer should come intuitively to Sarah, it doesn't have any complicated or difficult operating system, and it is touch screen. On the computer are the "Sacred Documents" that Kensu had of the island. The content of these documents we can hash out a little in the Discord so you'll have what background information you need to create your post.

[Assistant] He finishes spinning his blade, deep in a dence patch of trees, and his wings retract into his back. He takes in a deep gasp of air, sinking to one knee, trying to breathe. The old man packed a wallop, and that kid was no joke either. He grins with bloody teeth, and wipes at the split on his lip with his thumb. I wonder if Ruby will grow that powerful one day. He spits on the ground, clearing out his throat of the blood. He then drags his scythe along behind him, digging a groove into the soft earth as he heads for the location of Jub Jub's death.


[System]
Occupation: Bandit chief/Veteran legionnaire

Race: Nord

Class: Warlord

Gender: Male

Age: 33

Personality: A dour man, with little in the way of a sense of humor, and a determination that could break down walls just as easily as the many siege engines he used and repaired in the civil war. Often in ill humor, he sees life by loss and gain, the age old rule that all power demands sacrifice. Be it your time, the lives of your men, or an entire country, all power demands sacrifice.

Weapons: Steel Broadsword, Steel round shield, Steel Dagger.

General Appearance: (look above~)

Bio: Born into a military family, Brannus knew that he'd find himself in legion armor one day as well, he didn't expect to be wielding a legion sword against his own neighbors though. He spent much of the civil war siegeing and defending fortifications and camps, along the way gaining an appreciation for the bluntness and calculable nature of siege warfare. Brannus quickly found himself being promotoed to a Captain, and in a position of command over a fair number of soldiers, enough to occupy and defend one of the many smaller forts that dotted skyrim's landscape. For a time he and his men were on the front line, archers taking pot shots back and forth at each other from behind and outside of the fortress' walls, him and his men entrenched for months outside of the crumbling stormcloak bastion.

As with any man or mer, time spent breaking the wall could break a man of his spirit, just as easily as defending the wall could. The men grew tired, and little in the way of support or even correspondence was available to him and his men, while the stormcloaks where holed away, doing all they could to try the Captain's patience. Then, like a miracle, or a curse, the siege was broken in almost an instant; not by one of the catapults, a charge through the battered defenses, or any sort of surrender, but by a dragon. Fear ran through the ranks on both sides, but all Brannus could feel was unbridled anger, at his situation, at his superiors, at the enemy, and at the damnable wyrm who had reared its head.

Though small, the dragon was enough to break the defenders, and those who were not burnt to a crisp by its flames, hid within the fort while it toppled ontop of them. Others ran from the fort, scrambling past the imperial troops for safety in the wilds. His own men on the verge of breaking, and the losses mounting past acceptable, Brennus slew the closest man to him, bashing his face in with his armored hand, and as the soldiers, imperial and stormcloak turned to him, awestruck, he roared. "This, is the price of cowardice! That wyrm may rip you apart, swallow you whole, or burn you ash, but that is NOTHING compared to what I will do to you lot, if you do not hold!" His speech echoed like a warsong through the trenches as his men rallied, turning their great siege weapons to the fledgling beast. It was a shot through the neck with a ballista that felled the creature, leaving its lifeless body on the ground. Silence washed over the decimated remains of the two forces, as they watched Brannus Krieg, his broadsword in hand, sever its head.

It was this battle that drove Brannus, and what remained of his men and the opposing army, nearly thirty men all together, to desert. Why should they fight this war, when the world itself seemed to be crumbling? Dragons, the Thalmor, and the assassination of the Emperor? He and his would have no part of it. Taking what they had with them, their horses, armaments, even the great ballista which ended the wyrm, they traveled, spending the remainder of the civil war moving from encampment to encampment, finally settling in a fort in the south of Falkreath hold. Strangely, the inhabitants, a band of orcs, were all dead,and in the basement, it seemed that someone had taken something precious from a pedestal. Luckily the stockpile of food, wines, and cheeses had yet to spoil, there was enough cheese for everyone. Brannus ordered his men to string the corpses from the walls of the keep, and to perch the ballista atop the small fortress. For the last ten years, Brannus "Wyrm's Bane" Krieg, and those few men who survived, have spent their time, raiding, stealing, ransoming, and fortifying, taking every chance they can to obtain resources, and slay the horrid dovah that now litter the skies of Tamriel.

[User] Tarja turned to the Nord next to her hearing him speak, a pinch of a wolfish gleam in her frosted eyes glancing toward him. He was wolfblood alright, but then so was she a creature of the moon, a newborn child of the Stag Prince. "Trust me. It isn't difficult pinpointing the mighty warriors of Jorrvaskr." Tarja replied with a small chuckle, the young barmaid having brought her another tankard of ale, mainly out of good faith though Tarja paid her a few septims in return. she took a drink, sighing gruffly and setting the iron tankard aside before resuming. "Tarja." She introduced herself with a curt nod. "And like you, I too am far from home, far from the steep hills and stones of The Reach. So Companion, what brings you towards these gods-forsaken lands of snow and peril? The only damnable reason one would travel to Winterhold is just for their esteemed College of mages....or to join those gods-damned Stormcloaks." Just mentioning their name, it left a bitter bite upon her tongue, and not that of the ale she swallowed down her gullet. Yet how strange the woman wasn't much for speaking, yet here she be carrying on a conversation with the brutish Nord beside her. Then again, she did feel at ease sensing the essence of wolf-blood within him.

[Assistant]
Chapter One: The Teeth in the Darkness

He remembered little of that night, some years ago. Just flashing, blurring images that played themselves over and over in his primitive, little brain. A warrior of steel and darkness, ambushing him as he dozed through another winter's night in the frozen north of Skyrim. It was a brief, but fierce battle. He could not remember clearly, how he had howled as the blade cut his flesh, and he could not remember with certainty the taste of his adversary's life blood on his fangs. The only thing he knew with certainty, was that he became afraid, and he fled. He abandoned his home, running like no creature ever should, from a warrior of steel and darkness.

And that memory was a pain that his simplistic mental mechanisms could not understand. Though, a more advanced creature, such as Man, would describe it simply as hurt pride. As it happened, hurt pride was a big issue for such a beast as Skharn.

As the bear reached the the summit of the icy peak, he paused briefly to take a much needed respite. The snow was pouring down in droves, and even his thick mane was a meagre defence against the bone cutting chill. But the cold did not trouble this bear, for primitive thoughts of revenge were means enough to keep him warm.

Skharn was a name given to the bear by the Forsworn, a peoples he had stalked for many days and nights as he continued his search for the warrior of steel and darkness. In their native tongue, it simply meant "Anger" - their only true means of summing up the monster that took more of their number with each passing day. It meant little to the bear, but enough to know the word was a warning of danger.

The name Skharn had spread, as tall tails of a seven headed dragon covered in fur made its way to all four corners of Skyrim. Indeed, famed hunters had pursued the beast, but with little luck. Despite no sightings, the stories never went away, and indeed, countless dozens of deaths on the country's remote roads and city outskirts were often attributed to Skharn.

So when the bear heard he name "Skharn", it knew someone had seen him. Knew someone was afraid. Knew someone was about to try and kill him.

The dim lights of Winterhold's ruined form were of little concern to Skharn. He hadn't travelled to the frozen north, covering three hundred miles in three days, to look upon another human settlement. Nor had he come to take note of the giant man made mountain behind it. No, he was following someone.

An Altmer - the Elderborn - had happened by the bear's temporary dwelling a week previous. Though Skharn lacked the mental capacity to reason well, he understood immediately that the Elf was someone of power. Someone, who if not attacked in the correct manner, could very well kill the bear. So as Skharn, not wanting to bite off more than he could chew, went to resume his slumber, he noticed something else. He didn't know what it was, but it agitated him, spreading unrest into his mind and limbs.

A man may have romantically referred to this as the hands of fate, pulling Skharn to his destiny.

Whatever it was, Skharn felt the urge to follow the Elf. And follow he did.

For days and nights, the bear shadowed the Elf, always keeping out of sight and using his nose to follow his quarry's trail. As the ground turned to ice, the further North they went, the scent became harder to follow, and for a time, Skharn lost his target. It was only the very brief memory of a settlement nearby, and a bear's natural talent for remembering pre-travelled routes, that he was able to find Winterhold.

And now Skharn would wait, watching from the blizzard for an Elf whose importance to him made little sense.

[User]
Brannus chuckled, the Argonian was no novice, nor was she a fool. "I can assure you, miss, everything here is as it should be, I've no use for trinkets and gems, and the wood provides us with more than enough fresh meat and water. Now, as you said, let us not stand here in the cold for too long, the chill must be much worse against your scales, and many beasts are fond of roaming the snow. So, let us talk of payment, what are you prepared to give in exchange for these goods?"

The snow and glacial winds battered against the large nord's armor ice crystals forming over colder steel. Snow began to cake the many pelts and furs Brannus wore draped over his shoulders, and the wyrm skull mounted upon his right shoulder-guard. The smell of the raw meat and decaying flesh were all that could be found amid sterile snow and ice, their decay and rot slowed by the cold, ice holding some of the mutilated bodies together, slowly cracking and shifting as the chill began to fill each and every crevice of necrotic flesh. Wolves could be heard, howling in the distance, as was common of the tundra, they seemed to join the great winds in song, crying out for blood, to take their prey together with claw and frost.

[Assistant]
Asuma overheard the conversation and lifted her head off of the counter, she almost fell asleep again, She leaned in a tiny bit and started listening, hearing something about "werewolfs" and the "champions" She also noticed that now pretty much everyone was Staring at her, even the list of "trustable" ones

She started to doubt she was in the right place again, might as well ask the bartender where she was, with a voice of worry she asked the Reptilian bartender excuse me uh, which city is this?

[User]
"Hmm. You don't seem like the type whose bartering in septims, and the fact that food is involved suggests you aren't looking for necessities. I have access to several armorers and are carrying a good load of steel in the hull, and perhaps you're interested in a more... high grade protection. I have access to materials which technically require Imperial shipping permits, but considering there are at least three separate standards in the places I travel that is not too much of a concern. I don't barter in crewmen or 'favors.' I'd be obliged to hear what you're looking for out of this," Walks-In-Light said with a ponderous tone.
Canis, managing to put aside the brief period of revulsion, sorted through the goods with a deft eye as the captain addressed Brannus, attempting to mentally price the jewels and furs for the purposes of ascertaining how much they could reasonably go for on the open market.

[Assistant]
the bartender replied saying Winterhold and Asuma realized her big mistake. She made a big wrong turn Ughh!, I knew I should've gone west! She gotten a bit angry, but not for long, it didn't matter now she'd found pretty much everyone.

muttering a curse she'd did a facepalm, the bartender left and started serving some other drunken nord customers

just my luck...

[User]
Tarja heard the girl hissing under her breath, having realized a most humorous folly, and snickered to herself standing up and approaching her. A strange weapon she had in her possession, a blade, slightly curved, but not as harsh as the scimitars of Hammerfell, those damn guards going on obsessively over them damn curved swords. No, this appeared more the blade style of Akavir, Tarja only knowing of the mysterious race through many a tale passed about a warm fire and a cold mug of ale.

"Lost are we?" She said. Gods..compared to the youth, she must appear as a giant looming over her, casting a shadow that could eclipse even Masser. And still, she had no recollection at all of where she had seen the girl last but was certain she knew of her. "What's your name lass?"

[Assistant]
A hardy laugh rang from behind the Nord's helmet at the merchant's words. "Oh, I understand, such 'favors' tend not to be worth what I'm giving in the first place. However if you were so inclined, after this transaction I wouldn't be opposed to the two of us exchanging one 'favor' for another." A couple of the other deserters joined their leader in a short laugh, before he spoke again.

"Either way, it sounds like a good trade, Falkreath provides for the men, but not for our forges. I'd also be very gracious to have some of those more... elusive goods that you spoke of. After all the Empire no longer holds this land under their regulation. I'm certain our collective company can handle the exchange and loading, your man there does seem to know a thing or two about the merchants trade. While they take care of that, why don't I buy you something to fend off the chill while you're still in port? We can celebrate the beginning of a hopefully long and beneficial partnership."

The four accompanying Brannus grumbled softly to themselves upon hearing Brannus' order, but a quick, silent glare from their leader silenced them. Once more the tarp was draped over the goods, protecting it from the flurry of snow and ice that assailed the entirety of that desolate Hold. Cargo secure, they lead the hourses back toward the town, and towards Walks-In-Light's ship.


[System]
Age: 24

Race: Orc

Appearance: All over his body he has ritualistic tattoos and large scare over his chest he received when he was younger.

Equipment: Gormarr equipment consist of simple iron and leather armor. A two-handed iron battle axe along with two swords for back up weapons.

Personality: Gormarr is a brash, hard-head, and stubborn orc. With a short temper he is quick to resort to violence to solve his problem. Gormarr is a devout follower of orc tradition as well as Gorrmarok the god orcs and honorable combat. Because of this Gormarr has a strong sense of honor that guide his actions. He tends to be gregarious often proudly boosting of his feats and achievements.

History: Hailing from the harsh northern wastelands Gormarr was born into the Ironfrost clan. Under the guidance of his parents he learns the ways of his clan. At his 13th birthday he was sent out with the young orcs of the clan to kill a creature from the wastes alone. Then bring back a trophy from there hunt to the clan's shaman. While tracking a mammoth he was ambushed by a Ankhrav after an intense battle the wounded Gormarr dragged the Ankhrav corps to the shaman. He then spent the next couple of years honing his skill he heard rumors of the Infinity Bridge and the glory he could win inside the rifts. Gathering some supplies he traveled south. After a long journey to the town were the Infinity Bridge was Gormarr arriver. He made sure joined the adventures guild.

Guild Ranking: Wood

Misc: In addition to his orcish strength and endurance he along with the orcs of his clan have a strong resistance to the cold. But have a weakness to heat and fire.

Goals: Gormarr desires to gain glory and honor so he can forge himself a mighty legend.

[User]
Sylvia was prepared to engage in a bloody brawl against the vermin wielding a warpick, analyzing all manners of attack and how to minimize the injuries she would receive. However, the massive axe-wielding orc was wildly swinging nearby, causing chaos and confusion within the ranks of the rats.

The warpick rat staggered back along with the rest of the Skaven, driven back by the wildly swinging orc. Sylvia let out a breath. For now, at least, she was safe. She looked among the corpses of several fallen warriors beneath her feet.

Surely, they wouldn't need their things in the afterlife.

Among the first things she found was a few gold pieces, good to spend on shops after they got out of the rift.

A curiosity she had found on one of the Skaven corpses was a small, glass bottle topped with a cork. The inside was filled with a sick, nearly luminescent liquid. Just looking at it nearly made her retch. Certainly, this was the poison the Skaven coated their weapons with. To think that this stuff was inside of her body a few minutes ago.

Her wish for some better armor was fulfilled, as she found a set of plate gauntlets from a smaller dwarf, of course, dead as well. Surprisingly, as she slipped on the gauntlets, they fit surprisingly well around her slender forearms. They were a bit weighted, but at least her hands wouldn't be cut off.

Another curiosity was the hilt and a bit of blade of a former sword, now broken. She didn't know why, but she felt compelled to keep it with her, despite its initial perceived uselessness. Who knows, maybe someday it would turn out to be some hidden relic of a time long past. Or it could have just been junk.

The best thing she had found, in her opinion, was the last. As Sylvia picked through the remains of the dead Dwarves and Skaven alike, she found a flat, wide blade, the shortsword of a former Dwarf. As she picked it up, she almost cut herself, as the blade was surprisingly light, almost too light; a weight comparable to her dagger. She grinned, imagining the bloodshed she could wreak with such a special weapon. She had decided to name it the "Feathered Blade" for both its weight and its shape, which reminded her of a bird's feather.

To her right, she saw something peculiar: The party's guide, Siph, had disappeared into the Skaven breach, all by himself! The torchlight faded as he went deeper into the darkness. Like a true assassin, Sylvia stalked towards the breach, walking cat-like through the darkness. The absence of light wasn't much of a problem for her, as she only had to follow the light casted by Siph's torch.

Now, where could you be going?

[Assistant]
Marianne watched as her mantis did its work. The ordinary ratmen stood no chance at all against its fury. It easily decapitated them with just a single swipe of its scythes as the rats were too slow to dodge them. And if they somehow managed to dodge them, the orc's berserk rage would be the one to end them.

It was clear to her that the fight was now back to their favor once more.

Suddenly, she felt tired all of a sudden. So tired that she had to kneel over and prevent herself from falling with her knee and hand while panting. She then saw the mantis' huge form disappear from the battlefield.

She had ran out of mana, it seemed. She hadn't noticed it thanks to the adrenaline filling her entire blood system thanks to her fight with that rat-assasin. And now the tiredness hit her all at once like an elephant.

She ordered with her mind to the mantis and any bees of hers that still remained out there to return. She was thankful that the fight was pretty much over when she fell down as she doubted she could fight for much longer. As her insects returned, she could tell that they were tired too so she thanked them deeply from her heart for their valiant efforts in fighting her opponents. She made a mental note to give them double the amount of the food they used to receive.

It wasn't all joy however, as she sensed that some of her bees were missing. No doubt the rats had got to them. Not to mention the steel beetles that perished protecting her from the fatal blow of the Stormvermin. Once again, she thanked them for sacrificing their life for her.

After recovering her breath, she stood back up and checked upon her allies. She thanked the gods when she discovered that they were mostly fine and none had really fallen in battle. She didn't saw Sylvia though. Where she could've gone too? She knew if she were in a mortal injury, her stealth ability should turn off by their own and she would be able to see her.

Her thoughts were interrupted however by one of the dwarves approaching her, one of the dwarf king's aid, judging by his introduction, thanking her for her help in fending off the rat vermins. With him was an old rusty iron chest coated with dust. He opened it and gave her two items. The first was some sort of hammer, and he told her to give it to the werewolf. With his strength, Grendrick should be able to wield the heavy hammer easily, she thought, but she wasn't sure if he would like to fight with it over his claws like he had been doing all this time. The second one was for her, and it was a quiver. She thought it was an odd gift for her, since she wasn't an archer and she didn't even have a bow with her. And the rest was just gold to be shared with the group.

"Do not worry," Marianne replied with a smile, "We would make sure to remember the courage of the dwarves as well." She looked at the body of their dead king and continued with a respectful tone, "Especially the courage of your king, and how he fought valiantly with all his might. Without him, we would've lost this battle for sure." She walked slowly to him and kneeled before him, lowering her head with respect. She felt bad that they hadn't managed to save him, but she knew casualties were unavoidable in battle. She herself almost died and it could've been her instead of him if the gods decreed otherwise.

"Rest in peace, o mighty one..." she whispered.

---

After giving her respects to the fallen dwarf king, she began to think on what their next course of action should be. First of all, she decided she would use the ticket for the quiver, as she couldn't use it right now. She could feel magic flowing from it and she thought she would take it to the mages on the Emporeum to be examined. She would also use the ticket for the gold, as there were quite a lot of it and they would just encumber them if they had to carry them around.

As she looked around further to find either Grendrick or Slyvia, or Siph for that matter as she also couldn't find the man anywhere, she found a chainmail glove lying near the corpses of both dwarves and Skavens. She picked it up and deciphered that it gave its wearer bonus strength. That should work well with the axe she was holding, she thought, and she decided to wear it on her right hand, the same hand holding her dwarven axe. It certainly contrasted with the dress she was wearing, but this was neither the time nor the place to care about such things.

She also found a rusted dagger, a broken straight sword, and some more gold coins. Instead of throwing the former two away, she decided she would bring them to the mages as well just in case they were some magical weapons that could be fixed. The coins, she decided to ticket them as well since combined with the coins she had picked up earlier, they began to weight heavily on her dress. No need to carry them around in the realm. She wasn't going to go shopping here after all.

After all that was finished, she decided to go towards the hole where the skaven breach happened. She remembered Grendrick going there mid-battle after all.

[User]
As the climax of the battle drew to an end, Fariha decided to let the remaining dwarves and other combatants deal with the dwindling skaven numbers. She observed the bloodied arena, the scent of steel, blood, and death filled the air around her. Death was a normal sight to her from her experience in the Rift, before the guild's rules had changed. She looked upon the deceased dwarves, then to the dwarven king. She slowly walked over to the king, a warm smile on her face as she gazed upon him. His soul was long gone by now. Fariha sat beside him, dipping her finger into the fresh blood that seeped from him, before drawing a small circle upon his forehead. A circle that symbolised the completion of life, his cycle had ended. The crimson circle glowed slightly and soon faded away, as if it had evaporated off his skin.
"I will dance for you, your highness. I shall celebrate the life you and your fellow warriors lived." She whispered to him as she got to her feet.

Fariha looked around, her mind shifting from religion to looting. It was difficult to find anything of value among the corpses, as most of the armour and weapons were battered and broken. However, among the piles of damaged items, there were a few that looked unused. From a single Stormvermin, she took his longsword and armour, placing talismans upon them. She had no need for them, but perhaps they'd fetch a reasonable price due to their good condition. She also found a rat totem, which she tossed aside as she deemed it useless and of no value to anyone. She already had a Shaman symbol anyway.

The dirty leather armour that she found wasn't even her size, but after a little bit of cleaning, the leather could be crafted into something else. The gold began to pile up in her pouch, thus she slapped a talisman onto that as well. Finally, she found a pair of boots... which were strangely her size, if not slightly larger. She felt a magical energy flow through the material. The elf closed her eyes, focusing upon the boots. Images of wind magic flowed into her mind, however it was weak. Boots that increased the speed of her movements.. Would prove very useful to her. However, she needed to clean them before putting them on. Blood had been splattered upon them beforehand. Thus she placed a talisman upon it as well.

As she scouted around for items, she had been retrieving unbroken arrows from those she had shot. It became evident to her that the gash in her quiver had grown larger, making it completely unusable. Fariha sighed to herself as she undid the clasp, removing the quiver from her side. She thought it would've survived a little longer, but evidently not.

The archer noticed some of the others following behind Siph, which she decided to follow suit. She only had 3 arrows left, hanging between her fingers. But hopefully her magic would suffice if something was to happen. Into the darkness she followed, her eyes quickly adjusting to the low-light allowing her to see as if there was daylight.

[Assistant]
As the final skaven died Gorrmar let out a roar of victory along with the dwarven warriors around him. striding over to the fallen king given him the warriors salute and a silent prayer to Gormerrok to watch his honorable soul. The orc took a moment to check around the battlefield for loot. One of the corpse stormverim corps one caught his eye. Approaching the dead stormverim he carefully looked it over "Dat git has some flashy kit," Gormarr said to himself as he stared the stormvermin armor. The greenskin took a quick once over at the condition of his own armor and made a decisions.
With efficiency the stormverim was strip of its armor while the greenskin quickly replaced his ruined armor with stormverim's armor. The first bit of armor the greenskin equipped on the plate gauntlets. As the enchantment activated the magic flowed into strengthen the orc. Gorrmar swiftly fitted the skaven armor while stuffing the totems he found into his bag. Picking up a halberd he checked it over the condition polearm. The greenskin grinned as he came up with an idea as he holsters both of weapons. The orc made his way to the hole were Siph went. He saw the elf enter the tunnel. The orc decide to follow the elf and enter the tunnel.


[System]
Age:

22

Appearance:

 Subject stands 160 cm (5'2") in height. Subject also has light hazel eyes with short hair to match.

Abilities:

 Subject possesses an unobserved form of  Affinity with Pain*  (*Suffering?): Record has the Subject breaking a door off its hinges when it was accidentally closed on and injured her fingers. While it was evident there was damage – multiple broken phalanxes and torn skin – the injury seemed to have never happened, suggesting a Regenerative Healing Factor. The strength which she gained to break the door was hypothesized to come from her injury.

 The extent to which the two abilities are able to reach is unknown. Further insight is needed.

History:

 Subject is of Gaelic origin, raised in The United Kingdom. Parents show no obvious signs of empowerment, and have therefore the hypothesis that the Subject's abilities are of a spontaneous mutation is further supported. Parents are a non-factor.

 Subject is a student of Department of Law in the  London School of Economics and Political Science  – top of her class, with multiple intern experiences with many important figures. Many people know her.

 Her current residence is in the central London area, alone, supported with her position of Paralegal in Yip Tse & Chiang, a Chinese-based law firm.

[User]
"Our agent is well-disciplined, and will report back anything immediately."

The video conference had ended. One by one the faces disappeared from Maria's laptop and everyone resumed their operations of handling this shit-storm. There were now reports of people protesting outside the Turkmenistan government building - and some have resorted to violence with tipped-over cars, petrol bombs, and aggressive behaviour. The people are scared. At this point, people don't want to know why this creature came into existence, but more really they want to know that they can get rid of it.

However, there is a problem. The Russian respondent lied; Andjela is not well-disciplined. She is a ruthless loose cannon. She's armed to the teeth with the old wartime bases and bunkers littering old Soviet Russian lands. There's probably another shitstorm coming.

---

Andjela was in the hallway of an old house. Its brick walls provided reliable warmth for those inhabiting the place. She noted the door all the way to the back of the house, as well as the staircase leading to another floor upstairs, and the basement door in the far wall. The few people that had been staying in when Andjela entered had either scuffled back to their rooms, unable to escape through the front door. Let them handle their business, they must have thought. They wouldn't dare interrupt her, not when her blade was against the landowner's throat.

"Соседи сказали, что вы уже выходя из вашего пути, чтобы ухаживать за кем-то; вы пропустили собрание, ваши ежедневные прогулки ...

Где они? | The neighbours have said you've been going out of your way to care for someone; you missed a gathering, your daily walk...

Where are they? "

The landowner, who omitted a foul, drunken odour, cigarette bud fallen from his fingers, afraid to speak as his stubbly throat pressed against the sharp edge of the blade, replied carefully:

"Я не знаю, о чем вы говорите! | I don't know what you're talking about!"

Andjela smirked, knowing fully well he was lying. She dragged him to the kitchen, shoving him to the ground as she searched the area for clues. Her eyes caught the trash bin - and the blood-soaked gauze and bandages the landowner must have forgot about.

"Ушиблись, у нас сейчас? | Hurt yourself, have we now?"

His eyes were wide and scared, his body trembling with the chill of the harsh weather, and the nearing of the end of his life. He barely registered the blade flying toward him as it pierced his left eye and into his frontal lobe.

She slowly crept her way to the staircase to start scouring the rooms. Anyone smart now would have betrayed the three targets now. Fortunately, an old couple were perched on the top step, yelling at the top of their lungs:

"Они внизу! В подвале! Пожалуйста, не убивайте нас! | They're downstairs! In the basement! Please don't kill us!"

She kicked the basement door open, and chucked a flame grenade inside. Targets be damned.

---

Dara woke up and rolled to the empty side of her bed. Thy had woken up early and had probably gone outside. She climbed out of the bed, and took the twin's slippers. Really it should just be called her slippers, because Thy almost always goes barefoot anyway. She hadn't forgotten about her dad in the middle of the night, and as she walked to their living room she prepared herself to talk to him. Instead, she found that there was food prepared on the rickety table, and no dad to be seen. Used pans and cutlery was evidence that he had cooked and left early. They ought to discuss it tonight instead, for dad must be trying to find some way to solve their predicament.

The twins were about 11 years old but they were already very self-sufficient and mature for their age. Leaving them to stay at home alone and play outside in the neighbourhood wasn't uncommon, and their neighbours had gotten used to it. Dara walked to feel the bright sun baking on her dark skin. Her eyes adjusted to the dirt and mud-covered roads, the Cambodian infrastructure not very well-developed in Siem Reap, despite being a tourist spot. Only the inner city was urbanized, whereas the rural areas remained rural and will probably remain rural for quite a while. Potholes and cracks were present, and there were more motorcycles than cars for better manuveourability in these bumpy roads. Rubbish and wildlife littered the sides of the roads, no streets or pavements bordering the people from the vehicles. Everyone had the mind of minding where everything was, and it was fairly safe. Dara walked to the empty lot that the twins frequented, not surprised to see Thy there playing with himself in a dirt mount that was as tall as a man.

Dara reached out to Thy's mind and spoke telepathically:

"ដែលជាកន្លែងដែលឪពុកជាអ្វី? | Where is dad?"

Unlike Dara, Thy cannot speak telepathically, and spoke out loud:

"លោកថ្លែងថាលោកកំពុងតែស្វែងរកជំនួយមួយចំនួនដើម្បីជួសជុលរ៉ឺម៉កម៉ូតូកង់បី។ គាត់បានប្រាប់ខ្ញុំពីអ្វីដែលបានកើតឡើងនៅព្រឹកនេះ។ | He said he's looking for some help to fix the tuk-tuk. He told me what happened this morning."

Dara was just behind Thy when she saw him perform his gift from the Gods:

For a ripe young age, Thy possesses an incredibly powerful Earth manipulation - meaning he has control over the earth and any earthen material whatsoever. The twins found that Thy can only do this if he has contact with any earthen material, thus his accustomed state of going barefoot. It had first been slight: being able to shift the soil and sand under his feet, to being able to locate and manipulate metals touching the earth or buried within, to being able to manipulate actual bones and fossils. Many things have earthen materials in them, and Thy has shown that he can control them. What Thy was doing now was reanimating the fossil of a dog's skeleton, the gaps filled in with compacted soil, controlling this terra-reanimated animal.

There was no school today, so Dara and Thy looked to spend the afternoon looking at what else they could do. They feel great power within them, but they had to learn how to use it.

[Assistant]
Cody's wall reflected the grenade, and would protect them from the blast. He was up, and immediately he went over to Caits, gently taking her weight, he looked to Gerswhin, his eyes tragically understanding.

"You can go hide in a hole all you want, Gershwin, and live trapped by what they have done to you.

But whatever you decide, please help me get Caits to some sembalence of safety. We owe her that, at least"

He grabbed one of the bags, slinging it over his shoulder that wasn't supporting Caits, Cody was tired, and annoyed at having been found so quickly, after everything. Gathering light, he let it out in a small explosion ourside his walled box, careful not to damange the buildings foundation, hoping to take down whoever it was attacking them. Cody, while he didn't want to kill anyway, knew that he might have to, once more, to protect them all. He lowered the box, stepped out, and glancing about, shifting so that he was in front of Caits slightly, protect her from further harm.

---

Maria gave a sigh, and closed her eyes. She was more then certain that the Russian was lying, but she couldn't prove that until the agent screwed up. Which would of course blow everything out of proportion again. And that would somehow be her fault as well.

She picked at the files, at the new information coming through and sighed heavily.

[User]
Andjela rolled out of the way of the incendiary grenade. The blast caused enough damage to break through the walls bordering the hallway and the kitchen in which Andjela had rolled into. Furthermore, flames were now creeping, burning down the staircase above the lower stairway where the three targets were. Never-mind that Cody was being careful as to not bring down the building; it was already happening.

Andjela decided best to re-position herself outside of the house that was not slowly being consumed by fire from within. The residents who heard the initial blast were paralyzed with shock, debating whether to jump out of their windows albeit their rickety old age and weak bodies, or to accept their fate and be cremated.

Andjela is seated outside, waiting, admiring the fire from a distance, white clothes against the white snow. Perhaps she did not even need to break a sweat to take them out.

[Assistant]
Light whipped out from every cornor, every shadow, wrapping around the residents of the building, steadying their rooms, and creating stairs that wouldn't burn, for them to escape, almost like fire escapes, Cody seeming to act without thinking when he spied the flames. It was an incrediable display of power, and one he didn't stop to consider would blow her cover. it was already blown, he figured,when he did stop to think about it. Especially if the Agent survived. At least this would be a demonstration to the Agent that they should be so foolish. Cody shifted, so that he was in front of Gerswhin, well aware that pain was a trigger for her, and figuring for the moment, they didn't need the building to truly come down on them.

Shifting, he carefully moved Caits onto his back, seeming to bare her weight with ease, allowing himself to keep his hands free, as he approached the stairs, weaving light underneath his feet along the stairs, starting up them, hoping that Gerswhin was following, he weaved a light shield, placing it in front of him so it moved with his walk, protecting them, expecting another attack, and wanting to be ready for it.

Anytime the building appeared to be faling, he weaved a box around them, stopping a moment to make sure it was okay, before continuing. He used his heightened senses to listen for any sound of collapse, and for any sign of the Agent, he was soon panting, finding himself still slightly weak from the escape, he was straining under Caits's weight, and the power he was weidling.


[System]
Age:17

Personality & Bio: Humorous and vivacious, along with being very nosy and somewhat laid back. He always tries to find interests in many new things that look to him as appealing, and shows favor and compassion to whoever needs it, whoever it may be. His parents live out of town so he stays with a close friend of his while attending high school, and off hours he makes what free time he has to do personal writing on his life and his encounters as a small hobby.

[User]
As Avery ran up to them, grabbing a tight hold onto Roland's arm, the three of them were ready to head inside. Though he could sense that Avery still felt anxious with everything happening so sudden, Roland wanted to make sure that she was eased away of agitation, and wanted her to feel more secure.

She had spoke up before they went inside, telling them of how scared she was of meeting Mrs. Noonan and continuously thinking of becoming a burdening problem with the family.

"You're worrying too much," said Roland, trying to keep her calm, "Nobody here is going to think of you as a problem. We did this because you deserve a better life than the one you were living."

"Exactly," said Mr. Noonan, following up to Roland's statement, smiling at the girl, "You won't be a hassle of any sort, I guarantee you. You are part of this family now, and you'll be treated just as good as Roland and Steven, I can promise you that."

As the door opened, they went indoors, finding that the main room was being occupied by Steven, sitting on the sofa playing a video game, and Mrs. Noonan going across with a basket full of laundry.

Once they were inside though, Roland felt the fear from Avery suddenly increasing as she grasped his arm tighter. She told him of how different it was from last time, stating how scared and nervous she was.

"I'll be back in here in a minute kids," said Mr. Noonan as he started walking off, "I'm going to talk to Mrs. Noonan real quick."

As he had left, Roland stood there with Avery, not wanting her to feel the need to panic and be worried. As she kept a grasp onto his arm, Steven looked away from the television and stared at the two of them just standing there.

"You guys do know that you can sit down, right?" said Steven, giggling as he thought how silly the two of them looked just standing awkwardly, "These couches aren't contaminated with anything, or are they?"

"Avery, do you want to take a seat," asked Roland, seeing if she would feel better if she would sit down.

"Yeah Avery, come on and join the party," said Steven, trying his best to be humorous, "There is plenty of love to go around."

As Roland rolled his eyes, thinking how much of an idiot Steven is, he awaited to see what Avery wanted to do, hoping that someway she could be less anxious and more relaxed whatever she chose to do.

[Assistant]
Avery just looked at Mrs. Noonan walked by with the laundry basket and that Steven was playing something off the TV which did not look familiar to her at all. She till kept a god grip on Roland as she analyzed her surroundings with the new people in it.

She did flinch a bit when Steven talked all of a sudden and he sounded different from the first time they ran into each other in the house. "um I guess we can sit down." She said to him after Mr. Noonan went off to go talk to his wife. She did settle down a bit but still had her hands on Roland's arm but it was not so tight anymore.

She walekd over and sat on the couch still feeling weird about how different things were now and how it was still going to be to adjust to her new life. Whn Roland sat with her she placed her head on his shoulder for she mainly felt comfortable with him since he has been there for her the longest and has helped her out more then anyone has ever done in her life.

After a few minutes her eyes closed and she was asleep again proving how mentally exhausted she was from all that has happened and being in a new enviorment.

Her head stayed on his shoulder as she slept peacfully after the long crazy day with being in a hospital, dealing with the paparazzi, and having the noonan sign the foster parents paper work so they can have custody of her instead of ehr having to move someplace else and be extremely overwhelmed.

[User]
Avery seemed a bit surprised, or at least that's how it felt as she kept her tight grip onto Roland's arm. Maybe it was because of Steven, actually being nice instead of having an ill-mannered attitude towards her that it seemed shockingly different to her, even though his sense of humor was still idiotically present.

She agreed to take the offer and sit down, though she held close to Roland still, though he could understand as to why of course.

"All right," said Roland to her as he took it upon himself to lead her to the couch. Her grip was still intact with his arm, but she followed and found her spot to seat herself upon and relax, him sitting next to her afterwards. Once they were both seated, she rested her head onto his shoulder, staying quiet.

"Good," said Steven as he was smiling, "Now that we are all settled, let's see what happens next."

"How about some television?" said Roland, "I know you've been gaming ever since you got back here after school. Besides, maybe Avery wants to watch something."

As soon as he said that, he looked next to him only to find that Avery had fell asleep. Knowing she has been having a rough time, and just getting out of a difficult situation, he understood that she was very tired, so he didn't say a word about it. Steven on the other hand…….

"Well would you look at that," said Steven, leaning frontward's to see that Avery fell asleep on Roland's shoulder, giving a goofy look, "Looks like she wanted to hit the hay a little early. You know what that means?"

"It means you're nerve-racking," said Roland, looking at Steven with a sarcastic smile, turning away afterwards rolling his eyes.

A couple of minutes afterwards, Mr. and Mrs. Noonan came into the main room to check if everything was ok, and of course for Mrs. Noonan to meet Avery.

"Is everything ok in here," asked Mrs. Noonan.

"Fine," said Steven, focusing on his game while replying, "Though it seems someone is becoming a bit tempered with me for no apparent reason."

"Steven is acting like usually does. An idiot," said Roland as he replied to Mrs. Noonan's question, "But the person I wanted you to meet is in dreamland right now."

"Oh," replied Mrs. Noonan, "Well let her rest for now. I don't want to wake her up. The poor girl."

"You should have seen the hospital," followed up Mr. Noonan, finding his way into the conversation, "It was nonstop. Photographers and cameramen all over the place. Reporters trying to get inside, pushing and shoving. All of that just to see one little girl about her abusive lifestyle."

"Oh my goodness," said Mrs. Noonan after hearing of the events near the emergency room, "It must have been a big deal if there was people shoving each other to get inside."

"Basically because it's the biggest thing to happen to happen in our boring town," said Steven.

"Avery?" said Roland, trying to wake up Avery once more so that she could meet Mrs. Noonan.

[Assistant]
Avery was not easy to wake at first for she was just to tired about what had happened and her body just wanted her to rest for a long period of time to help her body recover. But she was once again awoken by Roland and groaned whn he did that. "Why can't I just sleep I am tired." She said to him as she slowly opened her eyes but her head was still on his shoulder.

Once she looked up too see pretty much everyone was looking at her and she shrunk back a bit since she was still not that social and not used to having all eyes on her. "um.....hi." was all she said when she saw Mrs. Noonan was looking at her and it was Avery's first time meeting her in person.

"What am I suppose to do Roland?" She asked Roland in a whisper for sh had no clue at what to do or say. Avery was just sitting in the room in scrubs from the hospital, no real clothes, exhausted, and was just tired. But she was also scared about making a good first impression with Mrs. Noonan since its thier first meeting each other.

Avery's grip had retightened on his arm for she was just mainly scared and it was just going to take time for her to get back to normal well in societies eyes at least. She woulld still be mentally scared from what she went through and will hesitate around men (expect Roland and Mr. Noonan) due to what her s call father did to her.

[User]
As Avery awoke, her voice speaking in tiresome grievance as she complained about waking up, everyone in the room stood and watch as she opened her eyes and wondered of what her reaction was going to be. Once she looked around and noticed all eyes were on her, an expression of worry developed onto her as she nervously spoke to Mrs. Noonan, telling her hello.

"You must be Avery," said Mrs. Noonan with a sweet smile across her face, "I've heard many things about you. How are you feeling sweetheart?"

Roland had hoped that Mrs. Noonan's cheerful and bright personality would bring Avery a bit more comfort, but instead she was hesitant. She gripped Roland's arm very tight and asked what was she suppose to do next.

He knew that she was scared, mainly because of the gripping pain he was feeling in his arm, but he didn't want her to feel this way.

"Tell her whatever you feel," he said to her, "Just be honest with us so that we can help you. Nobody is here to hurt you Avery."

As Mr. Noonan kept quiet and Steven focusing back onto the television, Mrs. Noonan leaned down to lower herself into Avery's position. While on one knee, she reached out to grab Avery's hand gently, trying to comfort her and tell her that everything would be ok.

"I know you've been through a lot of pain," she said softly, "But nobody is going to bring harm to you sweetie. Everything you have been through can be forgotten because you've been giving a chance at a better life with us, and we are going help you in any possible way we can. It might take a while, and I can understand that, but just be open with us so that we can help you."

[Assistant]
Avery was still frighten wtih everything for she was mainly used to Roland not the Noonan family, except for Mr. Noonan a little. Steven she was still not at all sure about since he was well strange to her and for Mrs. Noonan she had mainly encountered problems from people that were her gender with her mom walking out and having all the female students torture her more mentally. But when Mrs Noonan grasped her hand she flinched a bit showing how badly she had been abused to be scared even of a gental touch. But it also showed Mrs. Noonan how skinny she truly was due to being malnourished.

"This all feels so weird I am not used to all this people caring and wanting to help it is all so new to me for I am still scared of the world having a mom who walked out on me and then a dad blame me for everything makes me scared of people except Roalnd and hi stubbornness in wanting to talk to me." Avery explained a little tense from everything."And it is also weird taht all I have for clothes are these scrubs now I miss my jeans and sweater I wore all the time, even my run down sneakers." She said for she had grown used to wearing those clothes all the time it was comfort but she knew that the hospital cut her clothes off so they could take her in for surgery.

The big thing that was going t take time was her trust in people. The only person she had truly trust was Roland. She had loosened her grip on him a bit after realizing that she had a tight squeeze on his arm. Avery mainly had no clue at what else to say or do now she felt tired, exhausted, scared, and a bunch of weird emotions that was just spining in her head. "I am sorry for being so skittish I never really grew up with great role models in my life." she apologized to them.


[System]
Crown Prince of Whitehaven

"I like long walks, especially when they are taken by people who annoy me."

Age:
20 years old

Personality
⚜ Arrogant ⚜ Brash ⚜ Proud ⚜ Conceited ⚜

Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, Adrian is spoiled and arrogant. He was raised with the knowledge that when the time comes, no one will inherit the throne but him. Because of this, he believes that no one else is as important as he is, except for the king and queen and his younger brother, Prince Adam. He treats the castle staff as nothing more than servants and almost rarely pay them any attention except when he needs something.

In truth, he lack of self confidence to rule a kingdom and compensate with a grand show of overconfidence. The only one aware of his self doubt and shortcomings is his brother.

He tries his best to be just to his subjects but his overconfidence gives the people mixed feelings about him as a future ruler.

Brief History:
Queen Anne had always wanted children. "Four or more," she always said. But when she married King Thomas, they tried to conceive time and again but all pregnancies ended in miscarriage. Consult with doctors always ended inconclusive. The queen had nothing wrong with her. She was the picture of perfect health. And so the royal couple tried again and again but the children all died before coming to term. Depressed and hopeless, the queen finally sought consult with a Mystic, who taught her meditation and gave her a concoction of herbs to take. On the fourth night after the full moon, she was to drink water from Whitehaven's holy river, Adria.

Following the Mystic's instructions, the Queen found herself with child a few months later. Trying not to be too excited, she made sure she did not exert herself too much, staying in bed most times. She feared that she would lose the baby the way she had the past pregnancies but miraculously, she gave birth to a healthy baby boy nine months later. She named the baby Adrian. King Thomas was overjoyed and the whole kingdom rejoiced through a festival that lasted for weeks.

Being a precious child after many miscarriages, Adrian was spoiled, given everything he desired and asked for. He was well educated and being the first born, it was ingrained in him that he will ascend to be King when the time came. Knowing how important he is to both his parents and the whole of Whitehaven, he became arrogant and brash. He thought of the lower class people as nothing more than slaves and servants, existing only to do as he wished. As a result, the people in the kingdom feared that he might end up being a tyrant, most only serving him because of fear and not of loyalty.

Two years after Adrian's birth, the queen and the king was blessed with another male child. This boy they named Adam.

Adam grew up the complete opposite of Adrian. He was humble and kind, never thinking himself above anyone else. But despite the difference in manner and opinion, Adrian was fond of his younger brother and spent most of his time with him by his side. The bond of brotherhood eventually mellowed down the crown prince by a bit. Adam became his confidant and advisor.

Soon the people of the kingdom became divided in their opinions. A big number of them wanted Adam to inherit the throne despite knowing that Adrian was the rightful heir, being the first born. A small number believed that Adrian would be able to rule well with his brother by his side. And those in the middle found themselves having mixed feelings about who would be the better king.

[User]
The queen looked at each girl as they spoke, a thoughtful look on her face as she observed how each spoke and what their mannerisms are. She was a good judge of character and had already decided as soon as each spoke their names. After a few seconds of silence, she spoke up once again. "Amelie would be my handmaiden." She looked towards Adrian. "Alessandra would be your handmaiden, my first born."

Adrian was tight lipped as he looked at his mother then at Alessandra. He didn't say anything.

"And finally, Emily to my second born," the queen finished. She looked at both Alessanda and Emily. "You shall both attend to my sons..."

"Surely you don't mean for her to wait on me while I bathe," Adrian interjected dryly, earning him a chuckle from his brother. But they both fell to silence when their mother turned her stern stare at them.

"Fine," Adrian sighed.

[Assistant]
Disappointment filled Alessandra as the Queen chose Amelie for herself. She took in a deep breath. There was still a chance she would be assigned to Adam-- The hope was also shattered as the Queen chose Alessandra for Adrian. She looked at Adrian, in what was obviously horror, but she quickly composed herself as Amelie moved closer to the Queen with also Emily walking to stand behind Adam greeting him with a smile and a bow.

At Adrian's comment, Alessandra felt her cheeks grow hot, especially when the Queen didn't exactly deny the absurd image. Alessandra stood a little far away from the royals although the other two girls had joined the Queen and Adam. Alessandra blinked and walked cloeer to Adrian, but she didn't bow nor smile again. The introductions had already been done. She stayed silent as she glanced in between the royalties.

[User]
Adrian looked at both his mother and his brother. Adam had started conversing pleasantly with Emily. The Queen had also started talking with Amelie. She introduced her new handmaiden to her old one and asked Amelie to be oriented by Alisa regarding her preferences.

At least, she's prettier than the two, Adrian thought idly as he finished his tea. He had no plans of chatting with her the way the queen and Adam did with their own handmaidens. What he wanted done will be commanded, there was no need to talk in between. He stood up, excused himself and made his way out of the balcony and into the castle's hallway.

[Assistant]
Alessandra had remained silent as she watched the conversation happening between Adam and Emily, as well as the Queen, Amelie, and Alisa. She felt only slightly jealous and uncomfortable as she stood there, towering over Adrian as he drank his tea. She tore her eyes away from Adam and the Queen with their friendly conversation as Adrian stood up.

Alessandra was slightly surprised, no one had told her the crown prince was that tall. He hadn't mentioned for her or anything, so she stood there unsure of what to do. Emily shooed her off discreetly to go follow him. Alessandra hesitated but then hurried behind Adrian as he walked through the hallways that must be so familiar to him, but still awed Alessandra.

She followed closely behind him, unsure of what to say.

"Excuse me your majesty. " She spoke out softly as they turned a corner. " I am a little new at this, so if you may just tell me if you need something, or- or what exactly shall I do, it would be greatly helpful." She added, hoping he wouldn't take offense of her request. It just that Alessandra couldn't function unless there were clear orders of what she should and shouldn't do-- Her duties.

[User]
Adrian stopped. It was annoying that she needed to ask. But it was more annoying that she was there when he really didn't need her at all. While he wanted nothing more than to send her back to her family or wherever it is she came from, he was not a cruel man. There's always a reason why these people serve us. Mostly it's to earn enough to feed their families. If these servants have as much as we do, they wouldn't choose to endure a lifetime of servitude, Adam had once said. While he didn't really care about any of their reasons, he had to admit that it was true.

"I don't need anything," he started. "...At least, for now," he added. "Take the time to get to know the castle so that you don't get lost. It'll be annoying to have to send someone to look for you." And with that, he continued walking, not bothering to turn back.

[Assistant]
Alessandra stared at his back as he spoke to her. How rude of him to not even turn back to speak to her. She blinked. So his order was to leave him alone and get to know the castle? 'It would be annoying to send someone to look for you.' She sighed softly as she hurriedly followed behind him once more.

"I am sorry, Prince Adrian. But are there certain places you would like me to get familiar to? How would you suggest I get to know the castle? Is there any of the other servants that you suggest for me?" She asked as she continued to follow behind him, losing her breath by the amount of times she had to hurry to catch up with him. She looked at him as he continued to walk.

[User]
Adrian didn't stop nor did he speak this time. It was precisely the reason why he didn't want some new servant tagging along behind him. Did she actually expect him to show her around himself? He inwardly shook his head as he headed out of the castle and into the stables.

The stable keeper was a middle aged man with hair that was already streaked with silver strands. He immediately bowed at the sight of Adrian. "Your horse is saddled and ready, Your Highness," he said as the tall prince walked past. He sighed in relief when Adrian gave him an approving nod. He glanced towards Alessandra as soon as the Prince disappeared into the stable. "You're Prince Adrian's handmaiden," he stated, his words laced with pity.

[Assistant]
Alessandra continued following the Prince silently, slowly falling behind at how determind and fast his steps were. She took the time to scan the hallways and try to remember directions as to how they got outside the castle and to the stable. She waited for him to speak to her again-- Instruct her with a little more words, so she would understand where exactly did he stay-- Who could help her figure out what to and how.

She stood by the stable keeper as Adrian walked into the stable. She nodded with a smile, disregarding the pity obvious in his voice. "They say the first day is always te toughest, hm?" She said as she peeked into the stable.

Although they never had a horse of their own, Alessandra had a love for horses, but she didn't step into the stable. It was quite evident to her by then that he was going to ride away on his horse.

[User]
The stable keeper reached out and pulled Alessandra out of the way. "You may want to stay out of the way, young miss," he said. And sure enough, the stable doors bursted open as Adrian led his beautiful golden coated horse out into a gallop.

Adrian noticed Alessandra standing beside the stable master, irritation stabbing through him again at the thought of being a stuck with a servant that had no idea what to do with her time. He ignored her and rode away.

The stable keeper watched the crown prince ride for a moment before turning to Alessandra again. "My name is Rean, miss," he introduced himself politely. "Will you be staying here until the Prince comes back? I'm afraid you would have a long wait ahead of you if that's the case. This is Prince Adrian's favored hobby and he can ride for hours," he explained.

[Assistant]
Alessandra abruptly stepped out of the way as the door brusted open, and Adrian rode away on his horse. She gasped at the beauty as Adrian glanced at her-- She wasn't aware that he was actually annoyed with her presence, and so she continued to watch the horse for as far as her eyes could see.

She turned to Raen with a smile. "My name is Alessandra." She introduced as she extended her hand to shake his. At his next question, her confusion grew. "Is that what a handmaiden would do? She would wait here for his majesty to return?" She genuinely asked with confusion. "If so, will you teach me a thing or two about horses? I have always been fond of them." She suggested with a friendly smile. Might as well make use of the time.

[User]
Rean shrugged. "I am only a stable keep, miss Alessandra. I'm afraid I do not know what it is a handmaiden does," he looked thoughtful. "But I believe it would be prudent of you to wait for his return...unless he gave you some other order," he shrugged again. He lowered his voice. "The crown prince has a terrible temper. It would be very unfortunate if you become the focus of his ire." He glanced towards the direction the prince disappeared into as if expecting him to be there to overhear what he had just said. When he had ascertained that the prince was out of hearing distance, he turned back to Alessandra.

"Come then, let me show you the horses," he hobbled slowly towards the stables, his right foot dragging slightly behind him.

[Assistant]
Alessandra blinked and nodded. She agreed, it seemed like the right thing a handmaiden would do. She giggled slightly at the older man's actions-- He seemed kind and gentle. She already liked him as he spoke of the Prince's temper. Alessandra nodded as she looked over to where he looked with another soft giggle. " Thank you, Sir." She said as she turned to follow him.

She frowned a little as she noticed his unstable walk. She hesitated but in no time, walked in his pace, offering him her arm for help. "How many horses are here?" She asked as if helping him was a casual, day to day task she had, and she didn't intrude enough to ask him what had happened.