[System]
Age: 21

Gender: Female

Appearance:

Abilities:
Luna is one of the strongest warriors from her family. Part of that comes from her unwavering training in her youth and part is from an inherited power in her lineage. Long ago, a dying Elder Beast made her family, so long as they were honorable warriors, inherit the remnants of her strength throughout their line. It was an Elder Beast of Light and Honor, or so the stories told. Out of her two elder brothers, her and a younger brother and sister, it appeared as though she were the one to inherit most of the generations power though the family's heir was close behind her.

For that, she is able to use a variety of Light based Magics. Healing and creating weapons from that light based magic, hence the family name, as well coating her weapon with light energy to strengthen it (though this can become taxing). She also can create damaging beams of light from her hands that damage opponents. Among other things, of course.

In addition to her family's boon from an Elder Beast, there were stories that far before the Lightswords were even called such, they had mixings with giants and have a very small amount of giant blood in their veins. There isn't much to it. They have a small affinity for the giant's relation to fire which gives them a resistance to the cold. Luna won't be jumping in a freezing ocean but she can more easily resist the cold winds of the north. Their strength is also increased a small bit thanks to their giant ancestors.

History:
A long time ago, to the cold north, the Lightsword family was not known as such. It was a clan of warriors with no such name. Then one day, Lucilia, an Elder Beast, took them under her wing. She saw their honor in combat and taught them and blessed them with her power. From that day, the clan was blessed with Light Magic. They fought with Lucilia for years until one day, she lost in battle and was put on her death bed. As she lay, she told the clan that they would continue to receive her blessing in their lineage so long as they stayed honorable warriors. The clan wholeheartedly agreed and had their entire line blessed and given the name, Lightsword. So the story goes, skipping over a couple of specifics. Still, Lunalel goes by this story, proud of it. If one asked her to recite the tale, no matter how many times, she definitely wouldn't mind sharing it. She could recite the majority of the tale perfectly since even before she could hold a blade properly though that was earlier than a normal child, given the family's heritage. And when she could hold the blade, she trained with it the rest of her life, becoming one of the best swordsmen or women of her generation in Lightsword territory. After a time, she went on active patrols with the soldiers. They would patrol the land and made sure that there was no threat of robbers, brigands, bandits, monsters and many other things. From there she received a reputation of being fairly well liked among the soldiers for a couple of things. They trusted her strength and endurance, such as when she made every grown man seem like a small child when she won a drinking contest against some of the best!

In recent days, Lunalel was with a number of soldiers in a small patrol. While on patrol, they were beset by a large pack of feral, starving beasts. While they would be able to slay a number of the beasts on their own, there were too many of them as they were being surrounded. Some beasts lunged and were quickly dispatched by the squad as they started to back up trying to not get fully surrounded and soon they made a break for it. They knew the location of a chokepoint nearby so they could prevent being surrounded on all sides.

As they retreated, the beasts were on their heels trying to maul or bite them only to receive spear thrusts or sword swipes. One soldier was about to be pounced on by the beast! Quickly, Luna aimed her hand at the oncoming beast and shot it with a beam of light powerful enough to kill it's frail being. Soon, the group arrived in a cave, as defensible as one could get against beasts like this. They set up a position ready to strike down any beast that enters. Soon, a pile of haggard and starving corpses lay at their feet but there was no sign of them stopping. They wondered what could possibly push such beasts to attack without regard but there was little time to discuss it before they had to defend themselves. Soon, however, a loud crackle was heard outside the cave and a figure appeared before them…

The figure, a woman, then asked them if they belong to the Lightsword house, to which of course, Lunalel smiled and admitted that she was the first daughter of Lord Lightsword before thanking her for saving them. From there, she led the woman to the castle. Where she introduced the woman and reported the attack. The woman needed to talk to her father about something and he dismissed everyone in attendance aside his Heir. Sometime later that day, her Father came to her and told her that she had a month to get ready for she had somewhere to go for him.

Anything else:
-Has a High Tolerance for Alcohol. Particularly likes the taste of mead.
-Her family has her mother and father (though apparently she takes more after her father), her two elder brothers, a younger brother and a younger sister and many extended relatives aside.
-Insists others call her Luna, rather than Lunalel, if they're friends.
-Gets flustered if a woman starts to hit on her.

[User]
Od

It would seem that Reinhardt and Vyrell had arrived ahead of her. Alas, the other knights and the queen herself were yet to show. Until the queen arrives though it was no issue. She would not show the queen disrespect by appearing late to a summon such as this and she expected much the same out of the other knights.

"Ah, Od, you are here too."

Nod simply gave a short nod to Vyrell's greeting, her expression distant and thoughtful as always. She briefly wondered if the queen had sent summons for him as well to this meeting. There wasn't a chair set aside for him, was there? Did it matter?

"Good to see you in one piece as always. Question for you, Od. You've not seen or heard from lady Elnith, have you?"

The greeting, much like always, went over her head. A simple pleasantry, no reason to think deeply into it's nuances. The question however got her attention as her eyes locked on his.

"No. Is the queen asking for her?"

Her question for him was not unusual for her train of thought. If there was an issue her first and main concern was how it mattered to the queen first. Naturally she didn't find a reason for Lady Elnith to be absent as her first assumption, hence her path of thought leading her to believe that they were trying to find her at the queen's behest. If her absence were to cause the queen disquiet then it would be under Od's prerogative to immediately rectify this. She hoped it wouldn't come to that since her strengths were not in searching out missing personnel. That would be something better suited to others such as Lady Luna or Lady Fio.

Nonetheless Od would not hesitate to undertake such a task if she so much as even suspected that the queen would desire it so.

[Assistant]
"Y-you-...!"

The Queen had to know exactly how she'd sounded, and exactly how embarrassing the implication was! Not to mention how utterly inappropriate it was! Not to mention any of the other issues with the idea!

Regardless of her actual intent, there was no way that was an accident. She'd almost certainly sought to get an embarrassed reaction.

Unfortunately, Fio couldn't exactly help that.

With a huff, she looked away again, thankful that her Highness at least decided to change the subject to a more suitable topic.

The witch's eyes drifted to the injured elder beast for a few moments, travelling over its bulky form. It was strange to see it so docile after the fight, but perhaps that wasn't entirely surprising.

"Elder Beasts, hm?" Fio responded as she walked along with the Queen, "Well..."

She considered the question for a few moments. Elder Beasts...

They weren't exactly an entirely straightforward matter, were they? Not really.

"... They're a part of this world, I suppose," she began, "Some are like spirits of nature, who just want to safeguard their lands. Some just care about themselves and their own kind. Some are our enemies, who want to kill as many people as they can. So, we should respond to them accordingly. Antagonizing the ones who can be reasoned with something only a complete idiot would do, but the same goes for trying to talk to the ones who just want to kill us."

[User]
---

@A Lowly Wretch

Reinhardt followed behind Vyrell silently; his left canines firmly clenched on the soft flesh of his inner lip as he'd mull over the half-elf's intuitions. Nodding in acknowledgement of Vyrell's assertions, the Knight of House Reinhardt took his place at the strategy room's table; setting his helm down at the table's edge. The knight leaned forward over the map, his eyes scanning across it's varied details; his usual stoic expression betraying little of what was on his mind, as his plated fingertips rapped softly against the wooden surface.

Even as Od spoke with Vyrell, Reinhardt payed the two no mind; making only a single click of his tongue as he noted that the aforementioned villages that Elnith had been dispatched in aid of had yet to be marked.

The knight at last settled into his chair; his arms crossed and eyes drifting toward the ceiling. While it was certainly annoying that nothing had been marked ahead of the meeting, it was likely intentional; the Queen likely wanting to brief the entire Cadre of her elite knights all at once... Or she'd just been drinking too much and forgot.

Whatever the case, it didn't make much difference now.

Reinhardt sighed quietly as he stared up at the ceiling; his eyes closing as his hand idly seeking the gap in his armor once more. Armored fingers probed carefully between the plates; gently appraising the damage to the Aketon beneath. The Knight's tongue clicked once again-- assuming the next assignment would be related to Elnith's recent lack of communication, he would more than likely need to have the garment repaired before departing...

But for now?

He was content to await the meeting's start, the Aketon's repair would come later.

[Assistant]
Luna wouldn't admit to it, but she was rather people with the people here. At home, everyone was just very friendly and got along but... Here, well, it felt somewhat different. The people that crowded her felt a little more obssessed in a way. It wasn't bad, per se... But still. "Ladies, ladies. I'm doing just fine! See?" She flexed a small bit to show she wasn't hurting. Well, she was, but she didn't show it. But then, someone spoke up about her fighting a hundred bandits. "L-lugh! That's not quite right. It was more like twenty at the upper end..." Twenty was still a lot but she didn't want people to think she fought one hundred at once! It was impressive but Reinhardt and Od had fought the beast and it's rider, not to mention Ethelred who rode to meet the bowmen in the forest. All she did was distract the weak ones with a bit of support from Fio.

"It wasn't just me, however. The other knights fought valiantly as well. You could say I had the easy part, fighting the rabble that would dare attack our beloved city. I didn't have to fight the large beast that was to assail our gates, nor the archers that rained down upon our walls. Not to mention the support I did receive from our very own Sword Witch." Luna said, singing the praise of her comrades. Truly, she had no intention to hog glory for her lonesome. "If you see any of the other knights, please give them the same praise you all have shown me, I'm sure it would brighten their day as much as it did mine." Luna gave all the people that surrounded her. Now, she should make it for the castle... but...

First, she took the hand from the first girl that had offered her medical treatment and gave her a small kiss on the back of the hand. "Thank you for the first offer of medical aid, miss." After that, she gave her a smile before looking around to everyone. "Now, I need to go to the castle soon, but I might as well ask how things are. Any concerns from anyone that the queen might desire to hear?" It was good to know the thoughts of the people and... with all these people gathered up... Now would be a good time.


[System]
This is not so much a character sheet as a species template.
Age: Unknown
Gender: Unknown...and possibly irrelevent.
Species: Trygon
Height: 6-7 Feet in base form
Occupation: Mimetic Ambush Predator
Residence: Anywhere that is capable of sustaining complex life...and a few areas that are not.

Physical Description:

A lean species, by nature, the Trygon are taut in muscular development. Their high metabolism wastes nothing at all. They are humanoid in the sense of having two legs, two arms, and a head...and that's about it. Barely anything else could even be considered remotely human, including their posture, though they will stand upright as well as on all-fours.

The body of a Trygon is thus... A gray-purple body, standing with toe-claws and back-talons on the feet, while numerous other toes on either side of the foot may grip the ground. The legs are built for leaping, vaulting, and running, with double-jointed knees for flexibility, meaning that they can work on their own or along with the double-joined arms with equal efficiency. They would therefore be adept to multiple terrains, perhaps only struggling in a desert for traction, as they would easily swim in water. Their general muscular build leans more towards the athletic than in brute strength, although this can...change. The hands of a Trygon are an oddity, much like their feet. There is no true rhyme or reason as to how many claws they have in comparison to simply muscular digits. One could have five total toe-claws and the rest normal toes, but a hand full of razors on one hand and two on the other hand, say. And the next Trygon will be different. The reason for this has been determined to be a matter of maturity. A fully-matured Trygon will have a full set.

The head of a Trygon is a nightmare. They are named as they are for their trinocular vision (three eyes, two where most humanoids keep them and one in the forehead), and these slitted eyes change color. They don't seem to require blinking, and only do to protect their vision from damage, like if an object is coming right at their face...assuming they don't destroy said object. Still, this won't distract you from the mouth full of needle-like teeth that are geared for rapid chewing, flanks by two sets of mandibles. Trygon devour prey quickly, the mandibles pulling in their victim to the teeth like a conveyor belt pulling things towards a grinder. All of this is wound within a neat package of skin similar to that of a shark or a smooth-scaled reptile...though they are a warm-blooded species...and their blood is gray.

Trygon also change form, sometimes on a regular basis. More on this below.

Personality:

It's kind of hard to know their personality, sometiimes. They are intelligent, not merely animals. If you were to actually hold a conversation with one and asked what their species was like, as a whole, it would actually be hard to tell you for one very good reason. They don't know. Trygon have no past. As far as they can tell, they are born with a predatory instinct and commit to it for survival until they have absorbed enough 'echoes' from other species to begin thinking for themselves. This is apparently due to their mimetic nature. They are born an immature member of the species, consume other species to gain more insight, and eventually grow to become fully-functional beings.

An immature Trygon cannot be reasoned with. Even the ones who have reasoning power before full maturity can be considered belligerent and driven by the kind of rage or fear or other feelings that can drive a human to disaster. They are foreign and horrifying to any species that exists, ergo they find it hard to believe in a co-existence, only a predator-prey relationship. A mature Trygon can be considered far more reasonable, though they can still fall prey to personality quirks. Remember, their lines of reasoning are built upon the people and creatures of their surroundings. If y'all are paranoid and mistrusting, it seems unlikely that the Trygon will be better.

One curiosity of the species is that it approaches emotional reaction differently. A Trygon does not feel angry, or happy, or sad, per se. It holds elements of alot of this in a complicated manner. It can be apprehensive, wary, and intently focused without actually being afraid. All of its emotions are a utility, for which it must assemble to CREATE a raw emotional response, which can lead to even a conversation with them getting weird. A learner, a Trygon with a supernatural quick-learning ability, will process this alot faster and understand emotional responses much easier. What it does with these, however, is up in the air.

Magic/Abilities:

General Capabilities - What you can expect from a Trygon in general is speed and agility in primary, strength in secondary. They have great mobility, flexibility, and agility. Their strength in base form can overcome a human being, normally, without supreme effort. When faced with a physically powerful specimen, they're looking to take any advantage they can find. Remember that this is an ambush predator, which means that surprise and sneak tactics are better for it than bull-rushing into a situation. Their claws are dense bone and saber-like in nature, and they have enough technique to use them with as much surgical precision as gouging brutality in that area. The hearing of a Trygon is...reasonable. Eardrums are located in the head with no visible ears. Nevertheless, they hear alright. Their sight...is extremely detailed. Once they spot you...fog, darkness, and other passive obscuring methods probably won't work. Eye contact must be broken.

Metamorphosis - Each member of the species possesses the aability to create a new form for itself by devouring significant portions (usually the organs) of a complex creature. In the event of a creature being very small, multiple versions of it may be required before a transformation is initiated. The mimetic properties of a Trygon are such that it can become what it devours. It does not copy the personality of exact form of what it eats. It creates a new form based upon it. (The third eye is generally masked.) So, if a human is eaten, it creates a new human form. This eliminates the need for trying to pretend you're someone that you're not, even though some memories, instincts, and information will be passed on to the Trygon. From here, the Trygon looks like the creature it's eaten and can act like one properly. It will be stronger, though, especially if it goes hybrid-form, with the face and limbs of the Trygon adding to the shape it was once taking. Once a creature is devoured, it can switch back and forth from it as needed until the next devouring, where it settles into a new one. And speaking of which, it cannot shrink down tiny. If a Trygon swallows a beehive, you will be facing a gigantic bee, no question.

The Three Eyes - Kind of like a Beholder, Trygon carry power in their eyes. They're often changing from green to red to gold...when they're not using the color that their current form had. Regardless of the form, when a Trygon's eyes change color, you watch out. Results my vary on the form of the power involved, but their eyes have three basic 'elements' of power...which are death, chaos, and enlightenment. For instance, one might have the ability to cause disorientation in the senses when green, learn something of the physical nature of a being or object when yellow, and rip energy from organic substances (especially if the creature is dead) when red. On the other hand, another could enslave animals with insanity, cause a psychic burst of power with enlightenment, and cause necrotic damage with death. An inherently chaotic species, half the trouble of a Trygon is figuring them and their abilities out.

History:

Yes...this is a tricky one.

As far as anyone knows, and this includes the Trygon themselves, these beings fell right out of the sky. The exact truth of that statement is that they were all encased in meteors that failed to burn up or break up when plunging down towards the planet. They emerged and began hunting, and then half of their lives were thinking that they were the thing they devoured while the other half knew that they were not. It can be a little hard at times to realize what you are or are not, depending on what occurs in your life. The Trygon lived, therefore, as the sort of bogeyman of 'What if whom you speak to is not whom you think they are?'. For a while, they were thought as doppelgangers, shapeshifters, and other form-changing beasts. However, due to their unusual nature, it had to be accepted that they were their own species, their owm special kind of threat.

The Trygon live as both predatory and paranoid beings. They merge into whatever sort of culture their form is associated with and try their damnedest not to be outed as something they're not. This was hard since the blood changes to fit the species too. Of course, those who sometimes forget who they are have shocking moments upon discovery that they aren't what they thought they were. Inevitably, though, they all get over it. Other beings are merely a suit to wear and learn more about the world around them...and to hunt. Really, there isn't much to tell about their history because that's precisely what the more intelligent ones have been trying to figure out. It's a culture of creatures with no actual past to look in on, hence why they're taking so much from every other form they assume.

[User]
@Winter Star12

Gonad seemed to blissfully ignore the noises as he continued his story, finally getting to the good part.

"-and so then did Bjorl Thunderspunk reach into the arse of the Greatwolf of Farsnommel, and extract the mighty blade Keenloin from its resting place! When stuck in kidney with Keenloin, blood poisoning did King Splirnip die of, for still was shite of Greatwolf on the sword! This be how Bjorl Thunderspunk, cousin twice removed of Gonad, became royalty."

[Assistant] Shadow noticed the sounds and seemed to go on alert. She pulled her axe closer to her but was still showing a surprising amount of calmness. She even started humming a lullaby she was sung when a little girl. She was clearly trying to calm herself completely.

[User]
Wow, the loud one didn't even notice. It just kept on with its inane wordings while the other one seemed to remain still. For a moment, it considered just trying to weaken the big one from all the way over here. Maybe that was good for a second move... This first move needed to go as planned, about as planned as it could manage with these raging instincts. They needed to be channeled. They needed direction...

They needed blood in the teeth.

There would soon be a sound of running from all around, this distorted array of sound coming from all directions, though there was only one attacker. And where it was approaching was in the direction of where Gonad's head was pointed as he lay on the ground. With lupine speed, it darted forward, and leapt... We're not sure if Shadow noticed at this point, but since the large man had been lying on the ground, he would notice things differently.

From the top of his vision, he'd see what looked like a wolf at first, but the limbs seemed to lengthen and thicken, with the paws elongating and growing two saber-claws each, grown from different digits on each paw. He saw the wolfen body expand into something that was at least partially humanoid, but definitely not human. And he definitely saw this weird three-eyed wolf face expand its jaws, gain some needle-like teeth, and grow in some mandibles.

This would be shortly before the strike that was attempting to tear him apart.

Now, from Shadow's perspective... If she happened to notice where this thing was coming from, it had done that sudden transformation mid-leap. It had been a wolf just a second ago. A wolf with three glowing eyes, but a wolf, nonetheless. Now, it was this monster, and she could also see the two saber-talons on its feet with four or five side-toes on said feet. It was also bigger than a wolf, stronger than a wolf. And judging by the leap it had made, it was moving to tear into the prone Gonad and then leap away into the night, a cutthroat maneuver.

[Assistant]
@Winter Star12

The human was on his back, virtually unprotected, and judging from the way he acted, a few eggs short of an Easter basket.

*Yet...*

When the Trygon got close enough, the barbarian wouldn't be regarding him with either surprise or fear. The hulking berserker's single eye stood out like a beacon, flat and hard, almost melancholy in its calm inspection, following the creature like one of those trick paintings in a haunted mansion that always seem to stare at you. The look an ex-SAS officer may have when you push his drink over in a bar, and you can tell he almost feels bad about what he's about to do. Twin skeins of smoke steamed from the barbarian's nostrils. He still hadn't set his pipe down.
Could the creature feel it? Oily fingers running cold up the back, a premonition of death icing over spine-marrow. It wasn't too late, not just yet. He could change targets still, or veer off.

[User] Shadow held her axe. She was ready to attack the Trygon if it went for her. She was in flat out defense mode. "What the heck even is that thing?" Shadow asked, "It was a wolf a few minutes ago." These words made it clear she saw the transformation.

[Assistant]
Icy feeling of whatnow? Gonad had no special powers of intimidation. He was just naturally intimidating, and the predator wasn't having any of it. It was fast, its move had been carefully considered, and it was committed to it. You don't tell a monster 'Hey, buddy. I wouldn't do that if I were you' mid-leap and get any reaction worth mentioning, except...you know...the one it was going through with already. With Gonad not even moving, he left himself open and was unprepared for the attack. Even if he hadn't been ignoring it, the point of the noises was to disrupt the abiility to figure out where it was coming from by ears alone. So, without even taking a defensive posture, he was open.

All of this was just fine for the Trygon. The other was standing, wary, and taking no action to defend the big one, the big one whom its saber-claws would tear into. With not even a flinch from the prone figure, the hybrid beast's attack would carry through. The long, curved claws of its forepaw hands dug right into stomach, pushing its weight and velocity into the tear, blood flying free as Trygon came down upon him. The back legs came down swiftly, digging into the chest of the man, and pushing down hard as it then pulled free the claws with its next leap to return back to the gloom of the woods.

In the time that it took Shadow to ask what the heck the Trygon was, it was there and gone again. It had gone from a speedy wolf to a leaping horror, and was now loping itself out of range, letting out a screeching growl that echoed from all directions.


[System]
Age: 28 (assuming standard human lifespan)

Gender: Female

Race: Naga

Appearance:
 13 ft in total length, Mari's human half is 3 ft from her waist to the top of her head and her tail half is 10 ft in length. Mari has tanned skin, short black hair, golden eyes and pale olive green scales. When out of armor, Mari regularly wears a simple sleeveless tunic and belt over a sarashi-esque waist & chest wrap.

Personality:
 Mari is an odd duck. Half nomadic wild child, half daughter of the church, the Naga is as sophisticated & eloquent as she is blunt & plain-spoken. While she is a firm believer in the core tenets of the church, Mari will quite often interpret them through the harsh & pragmatic lens of a survivalist; frequently leading her to decisions that put her at odds with those who had more 'civilized' upbringings.

Brief Backstory:
 Born & raised as part of a nomadic tribe in the scrub-lands & savanna to the east of Thaln, Mari was kidnapped by slavers in her early-mid teens. After a short but brutal experience with slavery, the young demi-human was freed by Mayonite paladins. Taking pity on the young Naga, Mari was taken in by the church; an action that was met with mixed results. On one hand, Mari took to the core tenets of the dual church like a fish to water. On the other, she constantly fought with the rigidity of it's structure and by extension the structure of 'civilized' society.

 Naturally combative by nature, Mari began training with the resident Mayonite paladins as soon as she was able. When the War of the Red Flag broke out, Mari saw action on multiple battlefields, serving as the squire of a Mayonite paladin in the service of the Iron Rose Knights. Shortly after the conclusion of the war, Mari was granted her knighthood in which she swore her oath of loyalty to the Iron Rose Knights.

Equipment:
 - For armor Mari has a gambeson, partial steel plate covering her upper torso, arms & head and partial chain-mail over the rest of the exposed gambeson. For her helmet she has a sallet with a bevor. She currently has pair of heavy leather gloves as she currently can't afford a proper set of fully articulated steel gauntlets.
 - For weapons Mari has a quarterstaff with a small flanged mace head at either end. She carries a long knife and a hand axe balanced for throwing as backup weapons. In addition she has a long bow, though she usually doesn't carry it unless requested. Her weighted quarterstaff is also mildly enchanted for increased durability.

Skills:
 - A talented tracker, hunter and survivalist on account of her nomadic youth.
 - Skilled in combat with more utilitarian weapons; spears, staves, axes, bows and to a lesser extent hammers & knives. While she can use traditional blades, they are hands down the weapon that she's the least proficient with.

[User]
Gerard Segremors

@ghastlyInc

As the ranks dispersed through the field to begin a thorough examination of the corpses, a rough sound seeming caught at the halfway point between a growl and a sigh loosed from the rear, a somewhat miffed, deflated swordsman approaching the fore to investigate a corpse near the Captain. His face was still a more or less serious knot of furrowed brow and stern lines, especially near the jaw, but the inimical fire behind his eyes had receded greatly.

"Not to overstep rank and dole out orders, Captain," he grunted as he turned over the corpse of a fighter that had been blown aside by a force great enough to invert his elbow joints. "But it's best you just let it roll off your back for now. Mercenaries are all like that. Especially the leaders. Builds trust within the unit."

Alette the Shark. That recontextualized essentially their entire encounter. Hailing from the North, her band had campaigned multiple times in Velt and Estival as well as the nation the Roses called home— consequently, there was a significant overlap in "stomping grounds" between them and the company he'd been picked up by. He'd never had the dubious pleasure of seeing the Shark in person, but he knew her well from the perspective of a professional rival— or perhaps more accurately, as someone under the employ of one.

Wasn't like I was the leader out on recruitment drive or negotiating contracts against her, after all..

Just one of The Faceless.

It was clear enough that her reputation's preceding her was some measure of mark towards character— completely untrustworthy scum didn't last terribly long on the field, nor as a unit. Warfare was their business first and foremost: to join a band like hers or his meant that the enlisted troops trusted them to get food into their bellies. As such, leaders needed certain qualities to hope for any success in bolstering their ranks.

Martial prowess was always beneficial. One wouldn't be remiss to call it the rule in a mercenary band, and Alette had plenty at her disposal— the crimson lance she toted was almost as revelrous in battle as she, and her storied agility made delivering its (supposedly) accursed, lifestealing strike all too easy against a long, long list of enemy combatants. Clearly, she had strength covered, but it was a foolhardy soldier of fortune to ignore her aura as a leader.

Was she successful?
Was she dependable?
Was she on the side of her employers, or her soldiers?

Your life was on the line when you made that choice. You were no patriot, nor champion, nor revolutionary. The question was whether you would be risking your life for the sake of your comrades, or whether you would be reduced to a simple pawn. That she had enjoyed continual success over the years meant she definitely needed to be doing something right on that front, near as he could tell.

The smell of dried blood, the clanking of armor as his comrades shifted bodies to uncover boar tattoos similar to the one he found himself staring at, the air thickening with the gloom and tension of recent, massed death... His body knew it all well. Before Candaeln, this was the scene of home— the field of a battle, recently concluded. Many comrades dead at his feet, alongside many of the enemy, known or otherwise.

His intra-company unit was what they called a "forlorn hope" in Thaln— a corruption of the words for "lost troop" found in most military manuals. Those amongst the wider company who held the unenviable role in the battlefield of vanguard— on the front of the lines and the very first to clash with enemy ranks. Those that threw themselves into the meat grinder to gain a toehold the rest of the troops could utilize and fall in behind to reinforce. Increased pay for increased risk— so it usually went.

High mortality rates, even given the company captain's disciplined and measured leadership informing the tactics of their deployment. Legend amongst those that survived along side him, the veterans that had brought him up into their ranks, said that the black leather masks the company wore into battle originally were only issued to the Forlorn, then disseminating out into the entirety of the enlisted ranks as their Captain's career continued.

They said he meant to foster the boldness of the Forlorn into the whole of the company, increasing uniformity and cohesion within his troops. Emulating the archetypal Doppelsöldner en masse in this manner quickly became the calling card of The Black Regiment, leading to another moniker altogether being bestowed upon them.

And it always concluded that we actually became "Franz's Faceless" so we cared less about living and dying as a result.

At his end, he wasn't convinced he had been on the right side of the "loyal comrade" and "unwitting pawn" equation. Perhaps he would have been better served, if he had the luxury of shopping around, in a group like Alette's. If he remembered correctly, her band had a higher focus on singular, quality troops— in the league of a less scrupulous adventuring group as opposed to his company's larger masses of rank-and file, militaristic regimentation. It was entirely likely that she, for all her universally attested brutality, had built her band upon more personal connection than that.

Things may have been so.

They may also have not.

He couldn't take any of it back now, and as a Rose, he knew where he stood. The present served to be the morning he'd trudged through that hell in the past for. He was dwelling on the latter rather than focused on the former. Enough. The soldier he'd inspected had indeed bore the same tattoo the others had reported upon the fresher bodies— a boar with burning eyes, and gilded tusks growing from its jaw. That...

That could have been coincidental.

"Sir Gillian." he said in greeting as he approached after a moment, dropping to a knee to closer inspect the body the Reliquary had casually kicked aside while striking up conversation with Alette. "Marking on this one too? Ah. There it is. Swear I've seen it somewhere..."

He didn't wait for an answer— the ink was the same. Gold tusks and red eyes... The men around him all reported likewise. No mistaking it: these men were The Golden Boars. Among the most unscrupulous companies on the market today, they typically garbed themselves in purple and gold coloring as uniform, but even during covert operations, those tattoos served to brand their allegiance into their skin. A lifelong employment, where duties sank so low they reached the flames of hell. Unfortunately, there was no way out of facing the fire— deserters would get sent there personally by their brethren's swords.

"They're more mercenaries, Captain! I recognize the brand!" he barked immediately upon confirming the second brand upon the neck of the fallen sellsword, voice clipped and pointedly professional above his mounting confusion. "She's not lying about 'em."

His sword was still in hand as he did so, something he was sure any present wouldn't fail to notice, but so long as he'd not raised it to her he doubted Alette would quite take it as picking a fight. To enjoy and welcome battle was one thing, but he was hard pressed to imagine her to particularly appreciate her chances against this contingent of well-equipped knights by her lonesome.

She had a point in reminding her captain of that.

However, since they'd determined the cause was an enemy group of mercenaries, ones that had no qualms getting their hands as dirty as they needed, it raised its own share of questions.

"Now that we've figured that out," he intently into their conversation this time, releasing his left hand's grip upon the collar of the fallen body. His tension had not yet left him— the setting didn't allow for it. Nor did his trust in her. Now he knew who she was and who the men she had killed were, more or less. But the image was still woefully incomplete, especially if this would amount to the entirety of the answers they could get from the pigtailed spearwoman.

Firstly, this couldn't be the full battlefield. There were important people missing.

"Where'd you send the rest of your cohort? They dealing with whatever brought the Boars here further in while you greet us at the gates?"

His amber gaze searched her face openly, his speech reverted to the gruffer, direct tones of his former profession. The messenger making it here, the timing of this scene, the lack of a protracted siege to cause it, the older bodies of the soldiers suggesting them to have turned upon eachother with staggering uniformity— what on earth was this? Had they walked into a ritual suicide's aftermath? How had the Boars managed and infiltration of this scale? Had they done so under orders of some client? Were they deserters?

Did you really come here because things looked off, or because these men were marked for death by their Condottieri?

As much clarity as could be lent to the picture, the knights needed. Even if she didn't have the full scope of things, hers was still a damn sight more complete than theirs.

"I'd have figured you and that spear of yours to be at the center of the action."

[Assistant]
Tyaethe Radistirin

For her part, the vampire just glanced at the corpses--the smell of old blood was strong enough, annoyingly, that it was clear the violence had started yesterday. And yesterday, a mortally wounded man had come racing from this fortress to the capital to report that something was wrong. Obviously, whatever was going wrong had finished by the time they got here, unless the previous mercenary group had spent all night and most of the day slowly killing the soldiers stationed here. Though with the chaos here? That seemed unlikely.

As for other indications Alette couldn't have done it... well, they weren't necessary, but the gate was probably the biggest one. If she had been the one behind this distress signal, how would a slowly dying man have taken a horse and fled down the straight path towards the capital without being caught or pursued? Her group would have been waiting outside ready to grab anyone who tried to get past. Besides, if they outright broke in--whether by a mage or a half-giant or even a full giant--then it would have been obvious to the defenders and far more of bodies would be here, not to mention--again--the unlikely scenario of taking over a day to do it and then still being at the gate to meet them.

Not important, now, aside from what else it told them. This gate, and the road beyond it, went straight to the capital. You would have to be extremely unwise to traipse an armed band around the countryside here, let alone come past a supposedly-active fort where you could be detected. Since Alette had broken in from this side rather than further out, which would be more reasonable...

"You came from Aimlenn. Who sent you?" Because whoever was behind her presence must have known about this before the messenger came in.


[System]
Class: Troubadour

 Age: 19

 Sex: Female

 Appearance:

 Equipment: x1 Heal Staff, x2 Vulnerary

 Personality: Niya is not one to talk much, finding her words wasted on most people. Generally only speaking a few words at a time, sometimes far fewer than is appropriate, one could consider her bedside manner as a healer rather lacking. What little she speaks, is made up far more in actions, being a woman that prefers to let actions speak for her rather than hollow words. Coupled with a complete lack of a sense of self preservation, she is one who will have no problem riding her horse into a fusillade of arrows and magical spells to bring a comrade back up to their feet, because its her duty to do so. A sense of duty drives her actions, more so than anything else, although to whom this duty is sworn to is hazy, at best. But still, she will generally heal before harm when it matters, but one should not expect her to be nice about it.

 Biography: Born to Feroxian family, one would be surprised to hear this on first meeting the woman, but one word or action out of her casts any doubt of that aside. Both her parents were descendents of those who immigrated to Ferox after the wars over 70 years in the past, having progressively grown more adapted to the climate of the land, that much so with their own single daughter Niya. One would have expected a far more warlike occupation for a Feroxian, but her family had been apothecaries and healers prior to their immigration, and all the warriors in a war can only go as far as their wounds allow.

 Niya was trained in both apothecary and healing magics, usually acting as an attendant at arena battles and with bandit hunting patrols, ensuring battles did not end lethally (Without undue reason), and that the hunters and their quarry made it back alive (For the quarry, not necessarily alive AND well, just alive). Her quiet, harsh exterior was not unduly noticed by those she tended to, as the Feroxian woman provided far too vital of help to worry about her attitude. Spending much of her life either healing, or in the saddle, it was unsurprising that she would eventually not return home, just riding onwards with travelling supplies enough to get her to another land, and do more work there. Duty drove her on, as always.

 Niya had heard much about the Church of Naga, its teachings and plans for the world. A load of madness, lies, and hatred, the lady had decided quickly. This Champion of Naga, however, did not sound like the rest of the church, on a gut instinct's decision. That, and she suspected War would follow this Champion and whoever he ended up leading and siding with, and that meant the sick and injured would be there as well. So it was a natural fit for her to make her way for warmer climates, following the trail of this Champion of Naga as best as she could, the proud woman high on her horse taking time in each village to mend the injured and cure the sick, never giving a name or purpose, just asking one or two questions, seeing to the unwell, and moving on, earning a monicker of just "The White Lady" on the way.

[User]
Meline fell into a grassy patch, startling Jacob, he fell backwards onto the soft grass. "Uuumm, hi Meline what are you doing here?" Around them stood troops waiting for orders and placement. Jacob got up slowly shaking his head. "Welcome to Naga's gift, Robin had it when Chrom found the hero. We've made a couple copies of thanks to research done by Miriel but this is the original, it creates a field of battle and lets you place units before starting, then you lead them as the commander and try to defeat the opposition." He gave her a smile.

Outside Jacob simple stared at the board blankly, each piece moving along as if they were setting up for a epic match. "If you like you can fight with the enemy, or perhaps you would prefer to fight with me?" He smiled as continued to speak commands units simply moving there lifelessly. "Once the match is complete we can go back." He finished placing units and looked at the girl.

[Assistant]
Marianne's comment on helping with the inventory got a slow nod. Yea, lad champion had asked them to coral people and help, hadn't he? And it seemed like the royal certainly had the situation handled, and to be frank, Jerod wasn't a fan of hanging around bluebloods. His time in Ferox kind of settled that. So when Marianne waltzed off, Jerod smirked and chuckled, offering half a wave to the royal and knightess. "Ach, the dark spell spitter lass be right. Ye go coral th' rest o' the party, I'll go an' help Marianne an' the others with the inventory, aye? And have yer fun entertainin yer blueblood friend there, don't be makin' too much noise!"

Laughing loudly as he walked off after the Marianne, Jerod took his time catching up towards the direction the dark mage had gone. Ferox was not somewhere he ever wanted to return to. He supposed, looking at how others acted, that it was hardly surprising that each person here had their own secrets of some sort or another. Didn't mean he had to like it though, and he wouldn't, he would probably end up griping at Jacob for his own amusement and distraction. He would have to try and avoid any meetings or time spent in Ferox itself as much as possible. Get the job done, and get out. Less time he spent there, the better.

Lost in his own thoughts he nearly stumbled right into Marianne as she was hissing to herself. Oh, great, something else has got her stark raving mad, er, madder again. So he glanced into the hole as well, noting the dark magic charging in her hand, wondering what was pissing her off so much. The rude archer girl and the champion were sitting across some possessed chess board. That was odd, but their utterly blank and lifeless expressions were also very odd, and he muttered something to Marianne, quiet enough to make an honest attempt at being quiet. "Er, lass, wha' in the blazin' hells are ye up to? And what are they doin'? Strangest game o' chess I ever bloody well seen..."

[User]
_"Er, lass, wha' in the blazin' hells are ye up to? And what are they doin'? Strangest game o' chess I ever bloody well seen..."_

"Oh Jerod! You startled me," Marianne said, her tone reverting back to normal. The hex she was conjuring up was still dormant in her hand, though now it was of a much lower intensity than before. Raising a single finger, she brought it up to her cheek and tilted her head curiously.

"Me? Well I was simply minding my own business when the fearless leader fell under a seduction spell. I never would have imagined that Archer girl to be a Mage as well. That kind of thing seems next to impossible these days. Just look at the fearless leader's form! See how he's caught up in her spell?"

Whether or not she truly believed this or was just messing with Jerod had yet to be seen, though she sounded genuine enough. Actually, it was probably accurate to say that Marianne really believed Meline was some pervert who just wanted to ensnare her precious leader within her web. That couldn't really be the case of it, right? There was no proof of such personality traits or even a scientific analysis.

Then again, this _**was**_ Marianne. So whatever.

"Shouldn't we do something?" she asked, obvious concern in her voice for Jacob's sake.

[Assistant]
Meline was a tad confused at how she was outside until Jacob explained then she got somewhat annoyed but ultimately got more curious then anything so didn't really care to get annoyed.

"Hmm a place for training well would be nice to see how my cute leader fights so sure I'll fight beside you in this."

With that Meline got ready for whatever they were about to do wondering how it all worked but at the same time being extremely interested in it regardless.

"This should be interesting let's start this up!"

[User]
Jacob was about to to tell her how to escape the realm when she called him cute, he shut his mouth and looked away with a soft blush. "Alright then, units are set, here we go."

Suddenly the stone like soldiers began to move, a group of soldiers and mercenary's advanced first as enemy Calvary thundered forward. Jacob's face seemed stoic and prepared as he gave a sharp whistle, the mercenary's backpedaled and the soldiers hunkered down lances up shield in front. The horse's drove themselves onto the spears and the ones that managed to jump in time were meet with groups of mercenaries who put there skill to use engaging horse men mounted opponents pulling them down and finishing them off quickly.

The quickly fell back trying to regroup there army, to quick whistles and the archers let loose the siege weapons he had been holding back, Bastille's. The shots rained down on the poor unsuspecting troops, however the moment they were out of ammo the enemy struck back Wyverns swooped down upon them picking men up as other met an axe. Jacob rushed to his mages joining in as they unleashed wind tomes onto the enemies. The enemy in tatters he smiled at Meline. "It was an interesting fight, but I should get you back." With that the castle walls appeared before him, a king laying knocked over on the red side.

Outside Marianne and Jerod could see the the pieces moving by themselves at a astounding pace, pawns falling as knights moved forward, until finally the king opposite Jacob who had moves left simply toppled, as if the game itself had given in. Jacob had most of his board intact, a few pawns and both his rooks gone however.

[Assistant]
Meline was shocked at how short it was she thought her leader must be a genius and as good as they say though she soon saw he wasn't perfect and he did lose some troops but she felt she'd be safe under his command.

"Wow this is going well it's pretty fun too you learn alot by fighting with someone."

then Jacob told her he'd get her back Meline assumed he meant back to the room they had been in previously. It made her begin to wonder what was going on while they were in there it probably wasn't too long but the curiosity never left her mind. It was rather instant though the return one moment she was outside the next inside again and she noticed two people peeking into the room. They were two of the people she ran into before Isacc got her to walk away.

"Are you two spying on us? You didn't think we were in here together doing something naughty were you?"

she said that with a smiling face as if trying to hide the fact she was somewhat messing with the other girl having an odd feeling the girl wearing an eye patch had a thing for Jacob.


[System]
Age: 47
Gender: female

Earth/Metal bender

Physical description
Statuesque - that's the word one often hears when talking about Yun Song. Standing taller than most men, with an elegant bone structure and a prominent gaze, she is one of those who can draw up their height and bring it to bear in any conversation. With sheer presence alone, she has dominated numerous political maneuvering. Her eyes are a deep green and copious silver strands are beginning to show in her black hair.

But the first thing anyone ever notices upon meeting Yun Song is her metal arm. During the Transformation process that changed the authoritarian monarchical Earth nation into a union of autonomous states under a parliament, several towns revolted. There were too many skirmishes to call it a mere revolt, but none of the revolting states found a common leader to unite under, considering King Wu himself gave his blessings for the Transformation. But they went on for so long that even King Wu's successor has to still deal with them. Yun Song proved her worth first in these never-ending battles, and also lost her left arm to a Lava bender. She later used her metal bending to construct an arm for herself, one that was far more versatile than what nature had given her. She spent years training to bend with her metal arm. The arm can extend to longer than its normal length, and has a couple of nasty surprises.

Backstory
Yun Song was the only daughter of a wealthy merchant couple in Zaofu. She was quite the spoiled brat growing up, and her parents would only rush to please her, no matter the outrageous nature of her childish demands. While not exactly the lap of luxury, she had had a comfortable upbringing. As soon as it was discovered that she could metal bend, she enrolled in the Beifong Academy and was a middling student.

But all that changed when her father lost the shares to his company on a stupid Probending bet. Rather than renege on a bet and save his family, her father chose to save his honour. Right up to the point when he took his own life. The board was not cruel. Mother and daughter were given a modest stipend and a house to stay in. But Yun's demands were no longer being fulfilled. She grew adamant. She wanted more from life than a simple peasant's existence. Her thirst for finer things shaped her into a competitive and fierce young woman. She wanted a life untouched by the random vagaries of existence - one where her comfort was guaranteed.

She pushed herself to excel. She knew Bending would get her to the life she desired. She worked at it like a woman possessed. She became the youngest cadet in the Earth Union's prestigious Commando unit. During the Transformation, when the Union was beginning to consolidate rebel states, she lost her arm and gained a reputation. She was decorated as a War hero and was given a choice. A generous early retirement package owing to her injury, or a desk job in the fledgling Committee for Union Security. But Yun had not had enough. She needed more. She was 30, single, and did not like the prospect of settling down in a farm somewhere.

One-armed and ambitious, Yun chose the desk job. In retrospective, it turned out to be the right move. The Committee was woefully understaffed, and anyone with half a brain could get promoted. Within a couple of years, she found herself advising the Prime Minister on security matters. She single-handedly (literally) formed the Secret Service, a group of elite Lava and Metal benders who are responsible for the Prime Minister's security. Along the way, she also built herself a metal arm, with parts intricate enough to put a Futuron satomobile to shame.

She is now, officially, the Chief of Security - a position created for her, as the bureaucrats were finding it difficult to assign her a salary. Unofficially, she is called the Enforcer. No one dare call her that to her face, of course. But everyone knows she is the Prime Minister's muscle.

As the official protector of the man who led the Earth Union, which currently happened to be the detestable Lee Beifong, it was her job to make sure nothing happened to threaten that man. Recent reports, however, were beginning to trouble her. Korra's death put all plans out of whack. The White Lotus seemed to have gone underground, with no word as to whether they have any clue about the next Avatar's location. Considering Korra was a Water bender first, it made sense that the next Avatar would have already born somewhere in the vast Earth Union. And considering the White Lotus were there when Korra died, it was quite possible they knew exactly where. She had to find them, and figure out a way to use this to the Union's benefit. Surely, having the Avatar grow up under the watchful and protective eye of the Earth Union wouldn't be a bad thing!

It was because of this little side mission of hers that she found herself in Republic City, chasing down a very important lead. She had friends in high places here, making it easier for her to run this down rather than some underling. Staying at the fashionable Four Elements hotel, she now awaits her meeting with the Chief of Police of Republic City.

[User]
The young man in the cage took deep breaths as he drowned out the cheering crowd. Most contenders made a show of their victories, waving or egging the crowd on, or other such theatrics. But Shu wasn't here for theatrics. He wasn't here for the audience's sake, in fact he might even insist that he wasn't here for the glory either. He was here for the fight itself. Something about it was just... therapeutic to him. Being able to beat an opponent senseless, unleash all his pent up rage and frustration with the world and putting it all into strikes against poor unsuspecting opponents. His sharp, angry glare never left Shu's face even as he Earthbent a short pillar in front of himself.

The usual rules of the Cage was to fight until you drop, a sort of King-of-the-Hill competition where the Cage was the "hill" and whoever was left standing was it's current king. Right now, that meant Shu, and so he waited for whoever was going to come out next. He passed the time in his usual way, by striking at the pillar of earth he had erected for himself, using it as a training dummy. There was something to be said for someone who would, without hesitation, repeatedly punch rock and stone with their otherwise bare fists. And these were regular strikes. too, no Earthbending involved. That of course meant his knuckles, forearms, and legs were impacting the pillar no differently than those of a non-bender. Suddenly he heard someone calling him, and whatever trance-like state Shu had been in was broken. He stopped striking the pillar of rock and turned to the source of the voice.

"Some nutcase rookie wants to challenge you, offered good money for a chance to fight you on the spot. It's not our usual rules, but we can't ignore the money. It's your choice, but the boss has authorized me to offer you a cut of the bet if you make the rookie run home screaming. So what say you?"

The Master... he rarely left his post in the Red Room. So this had to be a pretty unusual circumstance. His words didn't mean much to Shu. The money would surely go to good use of course, but he also made it no secret that he didn't really do this for the money. He also wasn't as stupid as most people took him for either. Most arena fighters were thought to be brainless muscle, unable to figure out when something was suspicious. Well, Shu was far from that image. Whoever this challenger was he obviously had some other agenda. As for what that actually was, well, Shu would just have to ask him... using his fists of course.

"You should know me by now, Master." Shu responded, his tone even and without hesitation, "I'm here to fight, don't much care against who. If he wants to get hurt so bad, then let him. No skin off my back." he didn't say anything else, instead returning his focus to the pillar he had erected earlier. The Master must have walked away to inform the officials, because within moments the voice of Zhou thundered on the loudspeaker.

"Stop the presses, folks! Some newbie thinks he can conquer our beloved Beast!" the crowd seemed to be split on this, half of them cheering and the other half booing and hissing, "So let's bring him out see if he can walk the walk or if he's all bark!"

The more he waited, the more furiously Shu struck at his stone pillar. By the time his challenger would enter the Cage, Shu's pillar was starting to form cracks on it until he finally gave it one last mighty blow to shatter the pillar into pebbles and gravel. Then Shu's angry eyes, filled with rage and fury, shot a threatening glare at his next opponent.

[Assistant]
@Exit

"Kid wants to fight," the Master replied as he walked back from the Cage. "Don't know if that's good news or bad."

"It is good news for you," Shiban replied, checking the makeshift cloth bandage he had wrapped around his left forearm to hide his tattoo while he had waited. There was no point flaunting his allegiance in front of a large crowd. He then made a move towards the entrance to the cage, but stopped as the Master laid his hand on him. He turned irritably.

"Now, look here Mister whatever your name is," the Master began, his features hardening. "I don't know why you are doing this crazy thing. It's your life. But if you try anything funny in there, I will stop you. Provided the Beast doesn't finish you off first."

Shiban raised an eyebrow in amusement. This old Master threatening him was the funniest thing he had heard in recent times.

"So what do we call you anyway?" the Master continued. "The Destroyer or something?"

Shiban grinned. Something nudged his memory, and he remembered a name from long ago. Why not, he thought. He controlled his manic laughter as he said, "Call me Sparky Sparky Boom Man."

His shoulders were still shaking with mirth as he entered the cage, while the Master scratched his head in bewilderment.

Shiban stepped into the glare of the cage. He couldn't see few feet beyond the cage as the floodlights momentarily flashed in his eyes. He pulled his probending cap lower on his forehead and approached the lone fighter standing there, having just smashed a block of rock to pieces.

"And here he is, folks!" the announcer was screaming. "The craaaazy fighter who wants to take on the Beast! My, look at the size of him! Well, as they say, the bigger they are, the harder they fall. But let's not count our pig-chickens just yet. He might still pack a mean punch."

Shiban stared at Xun, the Beast. He was just a young man. But in the cage, he seemed much larger. Shiban nodded to himself. The prophecy seemed to be true. But he needed to test this kid to know his true mettle.

"Greetings, Beast," he called out from where he was standing. His legs were spread to imitate a solid stance. But he was light on his feet, ready to pounce away the moment the earth shifted under him. "It will be my honor to fight you."

He never broke eye contact with Xun as he stood his ground. Somewhere in the arena, a bell rang. It was time to fight.

[User]
Maika looked at him as if she was seeing a ghost. Or a miracle. Was this just an act he was putting on? But no, he seemed genuine. He sounded sincere. Maika turned around to face him.

"What gave it away was your kindness. No inhabitant of this city ever spared so much time for the poor and the weak. You know, if I had met you even a month earlier, I would have said you are a fake. Or I would have laughed in your face for your naivete. But... but something happened. Something that made faith meaningful. I wanted to see proof of the strength of hope. And now... I see you." She gave him one of her rare smiles. Not the flirty one she used on her marks. She felt genuine warmth emanating from him.

"The name is Maika," she said, offering her gloved hand to him. "And you and I are not all that different. I try to help the less fortunate. 'Try' being the operative word." She sighed. Why should good things be so difficult to do, while crime came easy?

"You know... there is a great ice cream place around the corner. The owner is a friend. She gives free ice creams to poor children once all the customers are gone. And she always needs more hands to help." She raised a questioning eyebrow at him. "There is a free raspberry smoothie in it for you. Or any other flavor really," she added with a small laugh.

[Assistant]
"The moon is brightest at night. And so are you," said Old Man Wu, chuckling to himself. If his dear Mili had been alive to hear him flirt with a girl his granddaughter's age, she would have chased him around the block, creaking knees and all.

"And don't you get me in trouble again, young lady," he wagged his finger at her. "Last time I told you probending stories, the boss man wanted to fire me for wasting your time. Hmph!"

He made sure to mop while he talked, taking care to get the dirt between the floor tiles. The gym could have long since fired him. Or let him go in a dignified manner. But his wife Mili's death changed everything. He did not want to spend his final years stuck in the lonely house full of memories of her. He wanted to work for as long as he could. The work was therapeutic to him, something to focus his mind. The owners of the gym were kind enough to let him stay.

"But... I do have something to tell." He was uncharacteristically subdued as he broached what was weighing his heart down. "Eska, I don't know why I want to tell it to you. But... it will help me if you listen."

He was a bit anxious. Eska had always been nice to him, consoling his grief in those rare moments he thought of his family. Sometimes, he would imagine his son alive, married to someone like Eska. But he didn't, anymore. There were too many dead people in his memories these days.

He motioned to a row of chairs set against the wall by the large windows. Moonlight was streaming in through the windows, giving the place an ethereal lighting.

"Perhaps we could sit down and chat?"


[System]
Age: 18
Birthday: 21st of May
Year level: 12
Sexuality: Hetero
Club (if any): Student Council

Disabilities (if any): Burns to the right side of his face, although skin grafts have made them almost unnoticeable. His right eye is completely ruined, and he chooses to wear an eyepatch to make up for it. He is also missing his little finger and ring finger on his right hand, This doesn't faze him very much. He learned to write with his left anyway. He has a slight limp in his left leg as well. They don't affect his daily life much, although they do cause him to be quite clumsy at times. He doesn't particularly care about that either.

Job/occupation (if any): N/A (although hes looking to change that)

Appearance: A boy of approximately 6'2, with jet black hair that is cropped short. His remaining eye is a vivid purple colour. The skin grafts on the right side of his face are ever so slightly paler than the rest of his face, although they are not visible unless they are observed closely. He also has several small scars on the right side of is face, but they, again, are hard to distinguish. He wears a black eyepatch over his ruined eye. His right arm and hand have skin grafts too, although the scarring is considerably more prominent there. He is fairly thin and dounst have a great deal of muscle on his body, with his features being somewhat sharp.

Personality: Katsuro is the sort of person you just cant dislike. He is always cheerful, polite and helpful to just about anyone he meets. Unfortunately, he isn't very good at the being helpful part. He has only been at the school for about a year and a half, but he has already gained a reputation as someone as someone who you should not share your problems with, as he will end up making them worse with his "Help". He is secretly and painfully aware of this, but puts on a normal face to hide it. Hes also quite a avid shipper in the school, which, with the aforementioned skills, goes about as well as you expect. He is cheerfully oblivious to the fact that people might not want to end up together, having a very black and white view of romance. Despite this, most people consider him a delight to be around, despite the fact he doesn't have any good friends.
Hes never had a girlfriend either, although he does have a fair few admirers for his cheerfulness and the fact that he wears an eyepatch for actual medical reasons instead of just wanting to look mysterious.

 His main hobbies include reading, playing video games and eating sweet things. He also likes to write short stories, although he keeps the last hobby secret from other people due to being slightly embarrassed about their quality. Hes also quite a good cook, despite only bothering to make desserts. His diet composes of sugar, meat and not much else.
He also has a extreme dislike of hospitals and other medical environments. He can go inside them, but he quickly becomes jumpy and generally starts to make stupid excuses for leaving within the first ten minutes. After thirty, he becomes rather stressed and even snappish.

Backstory: Katsuro's backstory...is not a happy one.

He was born to a turbulent household, with his mother and father in an unhappy marriage even before his birth, of which his arrival into the world did not help. His first four years of life are remembered as little more than a unpleasant haze. He has no idea what they argued about, and has decided that it is best if he never does find out. The only happy memories he can remember was when he learned to read at age three.

Two weeks before his sixth birthday, his mother left, allowing custody to pass to his father without any opposition. He distinctly remembers his father breaking the news to him over a round of chocolate milkshakes. His father then raised him on his own despite having a low paying job. It was this time that he devloped a taste for sweet things, as treats were a luxury that he could rarely afford. However, his father managed to get a higher paying job at an insurance firm, and things began to look up.

Unfortunately, it didn't. When he was thirteen, a gas leak in his housing block resulted in an explosion, killing four people, his father included. Katsuro was burned over his face and torso, with a splinter damaging his right eye and two of his fingers being burned very badly. When he finally woke up in hospital, the medics had removed his damaged fingers and eye after infection began to set in, leaving him alone, half blind and scared.

Since then, he has been passed between foster families and orphanages, with several families looking to adopt him, but none following through. His mother remarried and doesn't want anything to do with him.

He was sent to the academy a year and a half ago once it was decided he needed a good education, and has loved every minute of it. He cant understand why some people might not like being at the academy. He hasnt got any good friends, but most of the people he knows like him anyway for his cheerful attitude.

Notes: He is completely fine with people mentioning his missing eye and scars, and actively encourages people to say whatever they like about them. However, mention the limp in his leg makes him go extremely quiet, and can even get incredibly angry if the subject is pressed. When hes sad, he eats ice cream. Lots of it.

[User]
A light beat played in the background of Kiyoshi's mind as he slowly woke up and his eyes began to flutter open. Where was that sound coming from? "...Ah, the speakers." Looking over he saw one of several speakers that adorned his room, this one was specifically on his night stand, his phone attached to it via auxiliary cable. The song protruding from it was Riders on the Storm not the original, but still just as good. Picking up the phone and quickly pressing a button, the screen lit up causing Kiyoshi to squint his eyes as he looked at the time; just after 6.

Pressing the lock button again on his phone, he rubbed his eyes and returned his attention back to the ceiling, much darker now since the light assaulted his eyes. Allowing the music to fill his mind, he went over the day's itinerary. "First day back to class...haven't received the roster yet...I think we're supposed to be getting those at this morning's assembly...yea, like I'm really going to that." Yawning he slowly propped his body upward, running a hand through his shaggy brown hair and clicked on the lamp next to him.

Squinting from the second assault, he allowed his eyes to adjust this time as he scanned his room. Kiyoshi's room was always fairly neat and organized, clothing put away, carpet cleaned, furniture dusted, even the posters hanging on the wall felt 'neat'. Only one spot in his room contrasted this almost oppressive order; his desk. Sitting atop it was his computer monitor and dozens of other technological bits and bobs, including, but not limited to, circuit boards, wires, casings, screws, tools and a soldering tool he really should have put away last night. Among this mess also laid papers, both homework and music sheets, a few empty cans, and a box of mostly finished pizza. Next to this mess of a desk sat his PC tower, his keyboard, set up next to the desk at a 90 degree angle and his guitar gently resting in its stand.

Pulling the covers off of himself, Kiyoshi made his way over to his closet to start gathering his school clothing and prepping himself for the day. Next was the restroom, in the shower he could take as much time as he needed in order to think, think on what exactly? Everything and Anything, but there were some pretty important matters to deal with, such as, how was he going to get his class roster without attending the morning assembly.

He made his way into the showers, starting up the water and allowing the steaming heat to run down his back as Kiyoshi's eyes closed and his thoughts began to gear up. "Now how can I get a hold of that roster? I doubt the principal himself would be handing them out and I doubt he'd want the staff to deal with tedious work like that...that just leaves the student council." If there was one thing he learned about school, the staff always gives the student council the crap paperwork that they don't want to deal with, meaning, they're probably tasked with handing out the class rosters towards the end of the ceremony. "hm...Takuma is on the council...maybe I can convince him to give it to me somehow...probably not, but its better than nothing, I already tried faking being deaf last year and that didn't go over so well..."

Kiyoshi opened his eyes, Takuma's room was just a few doors down the hall from his own, perhaps after his shower he'd pay him a visit.

[Assistant]
Katsumi stared at the ceiling. She'd been staring for an hour already.
beep-beep-beep
Her alarm was finally going off, and a wave of relief and dread mixed together washed through her body. But still, she stared. The alarm grew louder, crescendo-ing into it's most annoying pitch as she had programmed it to the day earlier. She knew she needed to turn it off, if only out of common courtesy to the person in the room next to her, but her arms felt like heavy concrete blocks under the blanket she was smothered in. In her half awake state, a panicky thought darted through her mind.
"What if these blankets are trapping me here?!"
But reason soon returned to her sleepy mind, and to prove herself wrong she moved her ghost-like arm out beneath the blankets and turned off the alarm.
And then stared.
Another panicky thought entered her brain, but this one was logical. The ever present, all important question to Katsumi.
"What did I eat last night?"
Night time was binge time, it was when the little buggers inside her brain that thought they were keeping her alive took over. Way back when she was eating 300 calories a day, these late night snacks probably WERE keeping her alive. Now that she was eating 1700, these were terrifying. Did she gain weight? How much, and what of it was water weight? WHAT DID SHE EAT LAST NIGHT?
 Her panic rose higher, rising like the beeping of her alarm minutes earlier, but her brain, hindered by sleep and now panic, was blank to the answer. Flinging the sheets off herself when only a little before she thought she'd never get up, Katsumi raced over to the mirror and scale that sat in the corner of her dorm. Her skin crawled, her stomach felt sick, her muscles jumped around in her skin like crazy little tic tacs being shaken inside their box. She paused in front of the square that ruled her life.
 She entered an eerie calm, the kind you can only achieve on the edge of panic.
She stripped every article of clothing.
She lifted her foot.
She placed it on the scale.
She stepped on.
Plus one.
Crouching down slowly, she wrapped her translucent arms around her knees. Why was this happening? She'd done this.
"Failure. Disgusting. Friendless. Dying. Broken."
...
FAT.

She looked up, still crouched down into the mirror. Folds, fat, imperfections and lines made before her time. She straightened up, went to her dresser and found her pressed uniform hanging next to it. She pulled the shirt on and stepped into the skirt.
This needed a hoodie. She found her baggiest one laying on the floor and pulled it on. If anyone asked, she was cold. They couldn't yell at her for being cold, could they? Not with her medical history at least.
Pulling her hair into a sloppy ponytail, she gave one last worrying glance into the mirror, put her head down and hurried out the door and headed to the cafeteria. She was significantly late and if she saw anyone, she didn't pay attention.
She never did.


[System]
Age: 18

Gender: Female

Appearance: Standing at a height of a metre eighty, Sonoda Yuka is surprisingly tall for a woman of Japanese descent, and combined with her powerful, athletic build, she cuts a figure of great intimidation. Indeed, her expressions merely serve to reinforce this image, with the taut muscles, unimpressed thin mouth and scowling golden eyes proving that she is very willing to fight anyone who dares to obstruct her path of justice. Her hair is cut short, the fuzzy brown-black locks flowing down towards her neck, fringe hiding away her forehead. In all, she exudes an aura of power but also reliability, her very appearance seeming to tell others that she is one to always keep her promises, and one that messing with would be unwise.

When not fighting crime in her identity of Metallica Weapon, Yuka works as part-time intern at an office building, and is dressed in garb fitting of her occupation; a combination of a light blue dress shirt and either a dark pencil skirt or trousers is her standard clothing, though when performing leisurely activities, her outfits can change far dramatically and will depend upon the weather. However, her grey combat boots, a permanent fixture of her outfit, show that she is always prepared for conflict, along with the leather motorcycle gloves that she for some reason dons frequently despite not actually owning a motorbike. She is also especially fond of a tattered yellow scarf that she has owned since her youth.

As the powerful hero of justice, Metallica Weapon, the "suit" that completely envelops her body is grey and nondescript, exuding sleek professionalism and power through its androgynous form. Nothing on the "armour" can be considered especially defining or revealing, as if its wearer is not truly a human but a mere copy of one. It is a threatening visage to ponder upon, as the only major aspects of the suit are the four emerald lines that run down her arms, and simple black v-fin that sits between its ominous, pale-red eyes.

Powers: A partially cybernetic human, the experiments that were performed on Sonoda Yuka to unlock her true potential have converted much of her bones, muscles and ligaments to "Solid Photonic Energy" equivalents that provide her with immense durability and strength, and the two miniaturised cold fusion reactors that are safely encapsulated within the area where she once possessed lungs replace her need for respiration, giving her near-limitless stamina and the ability to function in locations usually impossible for the normal human. However, her ultimate ability is to transform into a steely heroic warrior, a state that provides her with the ability to manipulate gases.

Weapons: Though a competent hand-to-hand fighter, Yuka possesses remarkable skill with a glaive, which she utilises to its maximum effect when transformed into the Metallica Weapon.

Personality: A seemingly stoic figure upon first glance, the superheroic Yuka is quite calm in the face of danger, dealing with whatever problem that befouls her with nary an emotion and supreme grace. Her comments usually show little spirit, though at times it seems there is a certain grandness to her words. However, underneath the surface is her boiling blood, fiery emotions that fuel her every action. She is relentless and driven, absolutely devoted to bringing about justice wherever she goes, even if from a skin-deep view she seems almost bored of her duties. Indeed, she will stubbornly fight for what she believes in what's right, and will crush all in her path to saving others.

She has her own eccentricities as well (though not incredibly obvious to others), the most prominent being her tendency to narrate in her own head, frequently delving into inner monologues about whatever crosses her mind at the time. These monologues are quite eloquent and poetic in comparison to her usual succinct (though nevertheless still sophisticated) speech. She is also a literary fan, and will make reference to notable works from time to time.

As Metallica Weapon, she is brutal and quick in her fights, aiming to incapacitate as rapidly as possible. She is also somewhat wordier than usual when in the midst of combat, but they usually simply carry through the zeal that envelops her as she fights to serve justice.

History: A native of Neo-Tokyo, Yuka was once a normal Japanese high school student in a normal Japanese high school, sharing a class with a group of supernatural warrior hunters fighting a secret guerilla war against the forces of evil. It was a rather peaceful life, albeit a life filled with higher school fees in order to repair the collateral damage brought about the powerful entities that resided at her facility of education, but it was not one filled with superheroics and drama for her.

Then came Cerebral Intelligentsia.

A shadowy organisation responsible for a spate of monster attacks, it kidnapped her and many others to be experimented on to create an ultimate army that would conquer Japan and then the world. Through these horrific tortures, in which her body was converted with cybernetics, her latent powers were activated, influencing Cerebral Intelligentsia to craft her into the first of their elite shock troopers, the "Weapons". Under their scientific machinations, she became a transforming cyborg warrior completely devoted to the mysterious cause, fighting in the shadows under the banner of CI.

However, sympathetic scientists would break her free of the reprogramming at the cost of her memories, faking her death and throwing her out of the secretive CI facilities and into the relative safety of the world. Lost and confused, with only the name "Weapon" to guide her, the teenage girl found her way back to Neo-Tokyo, subconsciously avoiding Cerebral Intelligentsia's forces as she tried to find her place. It would be during these struggling journeys that she met the original Sonoda Yuka, an ill, hospitalised girl whose dreams inspired her to become the hero "Metallica Weapon".

And when the original Yuka died of illness, the cyborg warrior took upon the name in tribute, using it in her secret civilian identity at a local high school until she would finally recover her own memories.

Weakness: Despite her superior physical prowess, Yuka is utterly lacking in range and mobility, having been described as a "masked runner" whose ability to achieve her ends is limited by her lack of vehicular transport (thereby preventing her from moving distances), nonexistent access to weapons or powers that could provide her the ability to consistently strike at aerial opponents (for any manoeuvres performed above solid ground are temporary at best), and in essence the mobile capabilities of the average human (she can walk, run, and float a bit with gas manipulation, but that's about it). Her fighting style is also quite rough and unorthodox, belying the fact that she isn't exactly the most skilled at martial arts.

Other:
* Theme Song: Hagane no Messiah
* Voice Actor: Romi Paku (JP); Michelle Ruff (ENG)

[User]
Bright Elementary School

The storm of bloody droplets rang out across the quadrangle, going wide and covering a large amount of area with a miniscule amount of paradoxically-sharp droplets of blood. As it turns out, it takes a lot more than a few dozen liters of liquid to cover the span of a city block in precipitation. The end result was a short, sharp shower of needles scattered across a mostly-uninhabited expanse of concrete. A number of hits were scored, to some effect.

 One of the officers suffered an extremely-painful injury from a droplet falling through his shoulder. A cop car's chassis and front seat was imperceptibly damaged, and would annoy the driver for weeks to come. Far off on the other end of the quadrangle, an eleven-year-old child was skewered from crown to groin by a droplet, and immediately went into shock, to the horror of her classmates.

---

Thoroughly nonplussed, Kenji watched as Yukoshi fled the area. Hundreds of witnesses, from policemen to students to SDF soldiers, had seen what she did, what she looks like, and what direction she was headed towards. Now that they had several confirmed murders instead of a number of assaults on police officers, they had all the justification needed to assault Yukoshi and her extreme burden. How they would respond was currently unknown, but one thing was certain: it would not be pleasant for anybody.

The police, apparently occupied by the sight of this unbelievable murderer attempting to make an escape, rushed into their cars and started them up. Sirens blaring and engines roaring, the police were off on hot pursuit, leaving only six officers, a firetruck, and two ambulances hastily offloading stretchers and paramedics.

When the sound of the stricken eleven-year-old reached Kenji, he reacted quickly. He gripped Hachirou by the shoulder, and teleported into the of the quadrangle. Taking care not to step on the dessicated corpses of the innocent police officers Yukoshi and her cohort had so blithely murdered, he took his hand off Hachirou and calmly jogged over to the group of children and teachers.

Kenji spoke slowly, calmly, and loudly. He hadn't had much time to recover from seeing Yukoshi and Friend's pitiless slaughter and the destruction of the Stock Exchange, but, as a Yakuza, he was fully prepared to put on a brave facade. Kenji smiled nervously, and did his level best to block the view of Sakura's unabashed butchery from the children present.

"Please come with me, everyone-- it should be safe now. The terrorists have fled. Hachirou and I have come to help you all out!"

[Assistant]
Tomoyuki Harushima

Deflected! Tomo's palm blast were deflected off the metal body's leg as it swung the blast away like a bat to a baseball. A pretty cool feat of skill for one person to have. The Sentry then floats several meters away from the standing figure as he holds his left arm at it.

"Sir, I do not wish to hurt you!" he calls to the person, "But you did not heed to my calls for you to stop. Who are you and what is your goal here? If you don't answer, I'll be forced to take you in."